#ray did you REALLY want fraser to do that?

[variousqueerthings]

ray straight-up offering to let fraser kill gerrard vs fraser alienating everyone to make sure ray doesn't go after frank zuko.....

there's something...................

[sammaggs]

4x02 Easy Money // 3x01 Burning Down the House // 3x02 Eclipse | Rift

Something that always strikes me about Ray's moment of reconciliation with his father (in a show that might as well be subtitled Fathers Kinda Suck Huh???????) is the way this scene in particular is shot.

They focus especially on Ray's bracelet as he extends his hand:

Which isn't the only time they've focused on Ray's bracelet during Important Character Building. There's of course, his intro in Burning Down the House,

The close-up on the similarity with Marcus Ellory's bracelet in Eclipse,

And a bunch of other moments over seasons 3 and 4 that basically use the bracelet as a quick visual stand-in for "Ray Kowalski's a little bit different."

It’s something Ray Vecchio would never wear; hell, it's something most cops would never wear. It's a little bit, as Ray Kowalski would say, queer.

And so is Ray Kowalski.

The decision to focus on this bracelet during the exact moment he offers his hand to Damian as a peace offering is therefore, to me, worth considering. I personally read this as an indicator that part of the reason for Ray's rift with his father was his queerness.

And the first thing Damian says to Ray after they shake hands?

He compliments Ray’s experimental hair! He mentions another “queer” element of Ray’s physical appearance—one his father has likely given him a lot of grief for—and accepts it. Metaphor!!

It is, of course, understandable that Damian would have wanted better for his son than to be a cop, and this isn't to say that there isn't a world where that might have been enough to cause Damian to lose meaningful touch with his son for a decade. It certainly made sense for Ray Vecchio's father, who was likely involved with low-level mob business. But it does seem pretty extreme for Damian!

There's also the beautiful scene where Ray tells Fraser about his family in the precinct mess. At the very end, it really does look like he has something else he wants to say... but then Huey interrupts.

Now I am, of course, aware that Ray was dating or engaged to Stella at the time he graduated Academy. So what could his queerness possibly have to do with anything?

Well, as much as many of us wish it would, your queerness does not disappear when you enter a straight-passing relationship. I've even seen interesting ruminations in fic that some of the early hardship in Ray and Stella's relationship—remember, they broke up for a while during her college tenure—might have been due to the fact that Ray was interested in (or even caught) experimenting with men.

A personal anecdote, if you'll indulge me: I was in my mid-twenties, four years into a relationship with a man I thought I was going to marry, and tormented constantly by the idea that I was, probably, queer. I had no way of finding out while I was in a committed monogamous relationship. When I told my own mother that I thought I was bisexual, she told me it was all right—but also to never, ever tell my father. Even though I was in a relationship with a man, the knowledge of my queerness would have been enough to potentially cause a rift between my father and I that I don't know if we ever could have repaired. [editor's note: i'm a lesbian now and my dad and I have a stellar relationship ftr but i did have to marry a whole man first so] [editor's note: i am also the editor]

Ray gets caught with a man while Stella is in college? Or Stella knows and tells Ray's mother while they're drunk on wine one night? Or Ray's parents find a magazine... or a photo... or a stamp from the wrong club... anything. There's a million reasons why Ray's queerness could and may have come up even while he was with Stella, even while he was monogamous. Because he was still queer.

I know there's a certain element of "sometimes the curtains are just blue, dude, chill” to all of my meta, but when it comes to this show in particular I very much operate in my analyses from a place of "everything is intentional." Small details really do matter; the way scenes are shot matter, the words that are used matter, there's intentionality behind it all. We can't know or understand authorial intent, of course, but we can read our own interpretation of that intent into it. (The author is dead but Paul Gross thought Callum Keith Rennie was hot, so)

This is, after all, another episode directed by George Bloomfield, who also did Burning Down the House and is responsible for that "love at first sight" moment in Say Amen, so the direction here is in the hands of someone who is clearly in lock-step with Gross around the inclusion of queerness in the latter seasons of the show.

This moment is interesting to me in particular when considering intent because I actually would prefer to see Ray and Damian's faces in this moment! I want to know what Damian is thinking, or if he frowns. I want to know if Ray looks nervous or concerned. We don't see that at all.

Instead of seeing them over the GTO, we get the close-up on the hands and the bracelet over the rebuilt engine.

Rebuilding!! They're doing it.

And that makes my little queer heart pretty happy.

[petymology]

A Guy On Fire (11297 words) by Resonant Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: due South Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski Characters: Benton Fraser, Ray Kowalski Additional Tags: Romance, First Time, Sex Pollen, Dubious Consent, Sort Of, because sex pollen, Aphrodisiacs, Post-Canon, Back to Chicago, Pining while fucking Summary:

“It’s a flashback. I took the drug voluntarily.”

“No you didn’t,” Ray said instantly, because sure he did, suuuuure he did, somebody just went, hey, goody snowshoes, wanna come till you pass out and then come till you pass out in ten years too? just for kicks, just because I asked you pretty please? – and then he got it: “Victoria.”

I just happened to notice that a lot of sex pollen stories didn't really have a lot of sex scenes in them. What was I to do? This story is more like a sex sampler from my ancestor in smut. I want you to picture the figures picked out with her best backstitch and every i dotted with a French knot. Thanks the Escapade Discord, especially Greenygal, for thoughts on Dief, which inspired some stuff that may not be very visible in the final draft but was highly significant as underpinning. Thanks to the DueSouthBound Discord's NC17 crowd for encouragement in the very early stage. Very grateful beta thanks to Juniperberry, Flownwrong, mific, and especially Fox for so many suggestions.

[gayvecchio]

I was inspired by this great post by @pigtailedgirl to share moments that cemented my love for the Fraser/Vecchio pairing.

I really do enjoy watching basically every interaction these two have, no matter how small, so choosing key moments is difficult. But here are a few moments that are never far from my mind and make me want to climb the walls whenever i think about them.

In no particular order...

The diner scene in the pilot where they both talk about their respective fathers. Also, how did Ray know Fraser was there? Was the diner near the consulate? Did Ray just wander around looking for him???

OMGGGG!!! Ray's smile after Fraser tells him he doesn't want him to go. He's so happy that Fraser wants him stay, especially since Fraser has been so depressed (understandably so) and distant in the hospital. The cracks are mending. Their relationship is healing. (So many MOMENTS in this ep -- Ray taking a bullet for Fraser anyone??? Even Stevens?)

This scene. THIS SCENE in Pizza and Promises. Fraser's quiet desperation throughout when the car is sinking and Ray is in the trunk. I think it's the first time we see Fraser really ruffled, scared for someone else, for Ray. He is usually so composed no matter the danger of the situation, but I think that's when he feels in control of it to some degree, which he doesn't here. This time Ray is in danger and it wasn't a part of Fraser's plan. For the first time Fraser is confronted with the idea of losing Ray and realizing that Ray is someone he is terrified to lose.

The way he grips his arm arm here, the intense expression asking if Ray's okay. And then Ray's dazed, smitten little smile when he says "yes." He's used to Fraser being the hero, but this time he is Ray's hero. Maybe he sees a bit of what I do in Fraser's expression, sees just how important he really is to Fraser.

This was the moment that made me whisper "oh, no!" to myself because I knew I'd never be the same. I knew I was becoming lost to the Fraser/Vecchio void and there was no way back.

This one is not strictly a F/V scene, but yes it is. Because I still not and will never be convinced that this whole conversation in Heaven & Earth isn't about Ray being in love with Fraser. And the fact that Fraser is there eavesdropping!!! (never getting that merit badge back now, Benny).

I've ranted about this before and I'm sure I will again, but Ray's behavior in this whole episode just make no sense to me unless he is jealous. The whole speech about Ray being afraid to dream and reach out for what he wants and FRASER'S RIGHT THERE, so close but impossible to touch.

Fraser running after Ray in the style of many classic romantic heroes before him. COME ON!

North is like god-tier F/V goodness from start to finish, but this moment with Ray carrying Fraser over his shoulder while SINGING AND DANCING is an absolute highlight. Insane behavior, 10/10. Perhaps, Ray is just thrilled to be so close to Fraser's butt despite the circumstances.

Fraser and Ray doing their grocery shopping together is so special to me.

I'll end this with the scene from bdth. I have nothing to say. I'm sobbing too hard. Anyway, I think it speaks for itself. Even my mother could see that they were in love.

I have to cut myself off here otherwise this post will be a mile long. Even now I am thinking of so many other moments that I adore. I guess that's how I know how much I love them, every moment seems special. I didn't pick any of the smaller, sillier moments, like Fraser being offended by Ray running stop signs or running over saplings, or 'She shot you in the hat?' but I love those infinitely as well. That's the thing about Fraser and Vecchio, they work on every level, from the absurd to the devastating. Paul Gross and David Marciano's acting and chemistry carry every interaction and facet of the Fraser/Vecchio relationship so well that I can't help but enjoy every moment they're on screen together.

[flownwrong]

release, revolve, renew (due South fic)

Fraser/Kowalski + Vecchio/Stella, rated G; 3396 words

Summary: "You see someone every day for long enough, you think they never change. And then it's just—glimpses, and when you get a chance to look, they're a different person."

A/N: Written for @feroxargentea as part of @duesouthseekritsanta 2024. Thanks to @gueule for second opinion and support on this one!

read on AO3

About half an hour into their second date, Stella's eyebrows draw together and her eyes narrow for just a moment, but it's enough for Ray to swallow the rest of what he was saying. "I—Sorry. Was it something I said?"

"What?" she asks, distracted despite staring right at him.

"You looked—nevermind." He puts his fork down and reaches for his drink. The restaurant he picked is classy, but not obnoxiously so. He's had enough of lavish rooms used as extra muscle, of reaching for obscene bills to prove you're the one in control. It's easy to tell work stories here, Fraser stories. Like slowly shaking off a shell until he can recognize himself.

She recovers quickly and gracefully, mirrors him and picks up her wine, gives him the kind of smile that makes it clear he's not in on the joke. He wants to see it again and again, a hundred times.

"No, go on," she says, watching him over the rim of her glass, not quite assessing. "You have a good voice."

He preens, unable to hide it. Just two weeks back, he wouldn't have guessed any of it. He feels good, hopeful, for the first time in—too long to remember.

It's only later, unpacking at the new apartment, that he learns what that was all about.

"When are you gonna tell Kowalski?" he asks, carefully fishing out wine glasses from between packing chips.

Stella snorts. "You're good at delegating, aren't you?"

Ray shrugs. "I know squat about him, you've spent a decade married to the guy."

"Exactly. You know, the way you talk about Fraser—put some things into perspective for me," Stella says, gathering her hair up. "You talked about him a lot, back when you took me out the first couple times."

"You don't like him much, do you?" he asks, and she looks surprised. Hey, not like she's the only sharp one here. She hums in a way he's learned means let's get back to this later. "He was—he's my best friend," he says. Now that she's pointed it out, it's suddenly urgent to him that she knows it, the way Fraser gets under your skin, the way he just happens to you until you're changed by it. The way you don't want to let go.

"I know. It wasn't about Fraser. Or you, really," she says, and he doesn't know whether to be offended. She stares thoughtfully into the open cupboard. "I just don't think Ray—Ray Kowalski—anyway, it's not important. Write Fraser a letter." She elbows him out of the way, picks up the glasses and starts carefully arranging them on the shelves. "Bet you a hundred Ray's gonna read it too."

Ray feels like he's missing something here, but he also knows there's no danger in conceding this. She isn't gonna keep whatever she means from him for long. She takes her time taking things apart in her head; Ray likes it about her, that thoughtful focus, the need to get it right. She gets Vegas right, and that's more than he'd thought to ask for.

*

It's a lucky thing, really, that when the call comes at the Vecchio house, Ray is the one to pick up.

"Hello, Ray," Fraser says, so antsy the wire does nothing to hide it, and Ray did not expect this at all.

"Benny! It's good to hear your voice," he says, with a vague sense of déjà vu, hearing the confusion in his own words.

"And yours, Ray. I, well—"

"Raimundo!" Ma calls from the table, so loud he can barely hear Fraser over it. "Who is it?"

"Hang on a minute," to Fraser. "Fraser!" to Ma, covering the phone with his hand.

"Oh! Oh, how is he doing? When does he get back? Ask him—"

"I don't know," he yells, louder, "and I won't know unless you let me talk to him!"

"Well, tell him to come to dinner! Both of them!"

"Jesus! I will! Now let me talk!" He takes his hand off the phone. "Sorry, Fraser. You know how it is."

He hears loud snickering, clearly not Fraser's. Fraser makes a vague shushing noise. "Please tell Mrs Vecchio I'm very grateful for her rather, ah, enthusiastic invitation"—Ray snorts—"and that we'll be looking forward to that dinner."

It takes a few seconds for it to sink in: Fraser is coming back. With Kowalski. He was almost ready to bet on the opposite, on not seeing either of them for at least a few years, and now the presumption feels awkward.

"So," he says, "who did you want to talk to?"

"Well, you, Ray. I did call your house, didn't I?"

Shit, Fraser didn't really keep up to date up there. "You didn't get my letter, did you?"

"Oh—well, I suppose we did have to make some swift changes in our route near the end, and given the short notice, it's only natural that the post offices could not keep up, really—"

"Yeah, yeah," Ray waves him off. "I'll tell you when you get here. When do you get here, anyway?"

"Friday at four." An awkward pause. "I was actually calling to ask if you can pick us up, at the airport."

Ray is confused for a minute. Kowalski can drive—that much he has evidence of, what with his car being pretty successfully driven into a lake—and would probably insist on driving. Then he places the feeling of déjà vu, of talking to Fraser about airports and trains from far away, and feels so relieved he could break into song. "Jesus. Of course. I'll be there."

*

He finds a spot to park, pops his sunglasses on against the May sun glare and heads inside. He's early, and he's nervous. This feels like a do-over, and it's the first time he lets himself consider where he and Fraser stand now. He's not very successful. But hey, after all, he's here because Fraser asked.

It's Kowalski he sees first at the baggage claim, though, and Kowalski spots him right back, his shoulders squared defensively, a sight so oddly familiar it's impossible to miss. Fraser bends his head close to Kowalski's to be heard over the hum of the crowd and the loudspeakers, and he can practically hear the be reasonable tone Fraser uses that only makes you want to become more unreasonable. He shakes his head and gets up to meet them.

Fraser gives him a bear hug, and Kowalski doesn't bite his head off on the spot, actually thanks him for coming.

"Where can I drop you off?" he asks, starting the car.

"My place," Kowalski says, short, and throws a quick sideways glance at Fraser where he's crammed next to him in the backseat.

Ray nods and meets Fraser's eyes in the mirror. "Benny?"

"Oh, well," Fraser says and trails off, playing with the hem of the Stetson.

"I meant both of us," Kowalski says in a tone he probably thinks sounds gruff and holds Ray's gaze, expectant.

Ray shrugs, makes a mental note to tell Stella and pulls out of the parking lot. He feels like a gossiping schoolgirl and finds he doesn't mind. "Cool. Now if you're done shooting lasers outta your eyes, some directions would be nice."

*

"How is he?" Stella calls from the bathroom. Ray puts down the thin stack of house listings she printed out for him and looks at her in the mirror, watches her fingers as she swipes some cream on the tender skin under her eyes.

"Which one?" he asks, partly because he doesn't know, partly to get a rise out of her.

"Well, which one were you so wound up about?"

He gives it a serious thought. "Fine, I guess. Good. Both of them." It's unpleasant to admit he can't quite tell more than that. Fraser has never been too easy to read, but with Kowalski nearby and the whole world rearranging itself since they were actually close, Ray is less than fluent. "Why don't you come with? To Ma's dinner. You can judge for yourself."

Stella snorts and screws the lid back on the jar. "Like I can get out of it. No, I like knowing what you think."

"I think you need to come to bed. Gonna complain about not getting enough sleep tomorrow anyway."

"Shut up," she mumbles, warm and already halfway to asleep as she rests her head in the crook of his elbow.

*

Next time he sees Fraser, Ray's sitting on Welsh's couch, waiting for Stella to get out of whatever fiasco Fraser must've created to warrant her presence at the station in the first place.

"So, uh, does this mean Fraser's back to work?" he asks, when the i's are mostly dotted in his own retirement plans and Welsh gives him a hearty handshake.

Welsh sits back and stares at him like he's an idiot. "I would imagine so. Otherwise I have a vigilante running around with one of my detectives and a demotion coming. Don't you two talk?"

That stings a bit. "We, uh, haven't had a chance to catch up lately."

Welsh gives him a look that clearly says cut the crap and get on it.

He shrugs. "It's been a busy few months."

That's when he sees Fraser and Kowalski walk in, and he can't hear them through the door and the noise of the bullpen, but it's obvious Kowalski's worked up, hands flailing, getting right in Fraser's face. Fraser's playing the long-suffering card, and whatever they're arguing about, Ray definitely gets Kowalski here. But then Kowalski's face is white, not flushed from all the ranting, and he puts his hand on Fraser's shoulder and keeps it there even after he's given him a good shake, so maybe Ray doesn't get all of it.

"What did he do this time?" he asks Welsh, eyes still following them around the room.

"If I had to bet, I'd say our fair Constable either apprehended someone he shouldn't have, or ignored someone he should."

Ray nods. "And he still doesn't carry a gun."

"And he still doesn't carry a gun."

The door opens unceremoniously, and Stella walks in, tired and annoyed. "Lieutenant," she says, "I'd be grateful if next time you try to explain to Ray that not everything Constable Fraser says or does should be immediately followed by an arrest".

Ray chooses the monologue as cover to slip out of the office and find Fraser. Kowalski's wandered off, so he jumps at the opportunity. "Hey Benny," he says, "got any plans for tomorrow evening?"

"Not that I can recall," Fraser says, beaming. "What did you have in mind?"

Ray hesitates. "Whatever you're up for. Can't remember the last time you hung around for more than ten minutes at a time."

Fraser opens his mouth and closes it a couple times before he finds his words. "I'm sorry if I've given you the impression—that is—"

Ray has mercy on him. "Yeah, yeah, Kowalski couldn't spare you, could he? I get it."

Fraser looks genuinely offended, but Ray suspects it's not directed at him. "Well, he can definitely 'spare me' tomorrow. And he'll have Diefenbaker to keep him company."

"What, the wolf too good to hang out with the old gang now?" Ray laughs.

"Well, no, but he and Ray are going to see—a car exhibit."

"A car show? How come you aren't invited?"

"Oh," Fraser says, pursing his lips, "apparently, Diefenbaker appreciates it more."

Ray snickers. "Kowalski said that?"

Fraser actually sighs. "Well, Diefenbaker didn't deem it important to tell me himself, did he now?"

Ray shakes his head. "Never change, Benny."

He sees Stella emerge from the office and raise her eyebrows at him.

"Look, I gotta head out. I'll call you about tomorrow, okay?"

"I'm looking forward to it, Ray," Fraser says with genuine pleasure.

Ray watches him cross the room to Kowalski's desk, place a hand on Kowalski's neck, sees Kowalski close his eyes for a moment and roll his head, working out a kink Ray knows you get after about five minutes of staring at the papers. The gesture is familiar—he does that with Stella all the time.

"Home," Stella demands, "come on, stop gawking," and drags him out by the elbow.

"Home," he agrees.

*

He and Fraser end up stuffing their faces with burgers and shooting some pool. Fraser downs a beer, too, and Ray imagines him and Kowalski doing this up north, in some homey place in a city of several hundred, on their way back from the tundra—how else would he get Fraser to relax this much?

Fraser talks some about going back to work, a lot about Canada, and an uncomfortable amount about Kowalski. Not directly, but the guy is ever-present in the background of every anecdote, every plan Fraser mentions. It finally hits Ray, what Stella was getting at. He makes a mental note to ask if he sounded like this to her—but no, the clue was the fact that he didn't. It wasn't about you, really. Fraser doesn't just mention Kowalski a lot. He talks like he has never not known him, never been alone, which Ray knows couldn't be further from the truth. He talks about Kowalski like that's where he belongs. And he's back in Chicago. Ray guesses that's that and returns the favor.

"So, uh, about that letter."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ray. If it was in my power—"

"Benny, shut up and let me finish." He drains the rest of his second bottle. "So, Stella and I are getting married in August. And, uh, we're looking at houses. In Florida."

Fraser doesn't miss a beat. "Well, Ray, that's wonderful! Congratulations to you and Ms Kowalski—or, ah, I suppose that's not the appropriate address anymore."

Ray narrows his eyes. "You don't like her much, do you?"

Fraser tugs on his ear. "Ms Kowalski is a woman worthy of great respect and admiration, and I'm sure you're well-suited for each other." Which is a very roundabout way of saying I'm happy for you, but I don't get it at all. Ray kind of gets the sentiment. He's always found Stella's coldness towards Fraser curious, but now, when he knows it's returned, the common denominator is obvious.

"Hey, same to you and Kowalski. Jury's still out on admiration, though." Fraser doesn't blush, but his eyes go wide. Ray shrugs. "C'mon, Benny. It's not a state secret," he says, like the pieces didn't fall into place for him two minutes ago.

Fraser clears his throat, twice, but the corners of his mouth curl up. "Are you planning to join the department in Florida, then?" he asks and reaches for the check, clearly for something to do with his hands. Ray relaxes into his seat and lets him get it, figures Fraser owes him for not doing this whole hanging out thing sooner.

"Nah," Ray says, shrugging. "I think I've paid my dues with the force. It's been great. Some parts more than others." He gives Fraser a meaningful look, watches him smile.

"In that case—it's been a pleasure, Ray," he says and reaches his hand out for an actual handshake. Jesus. Ray rolls his eyes.

"Come on, I'm not saying goodbye. You'd better come see us down in Miami. We'll have enough room for two more."

Fraser grins, like he can't help it, then frowns immediately. "Should I, ah, tell Ray, or..." He trails off, awkward as ever when it comes to navigating tempers and touchy subjects. Ray has to admit he isn't feeling any more confident.

"Nah, Benny. Leave it to Stella. It's their business more than yours—or mine, you know?"

Fraser nods solemnly. Ray gives him a wink.

*

"It was good. He's good." Ray says, chopping the carrots. "It's weird, you know. Not that I don't know him anymore, just"— he shrugs—"different."

Stella hums absently and reaches across the kitchen island to pick up a piece of carrot. "You see someone every day for long enough, you think they never change," she says between bites. "And then it's just—glimpses, and when you get a chance to look, they're a different person."

He looks at her, head bent, reading glasses sliding down her nose, papers spread in a wide half-circle in front of her. Bare legs under the hem of her skirt, one crossed over the other, right foot swinging mindlessly. He's only been seeing her every day for a couple of months, and he does kind of think she will never change, not in a way where one day he looks up and doesn't recognize her.

"Not completely different," he says, adding the carrots to the pan.

Stella looks at him sharply over her glasses. "No, not completely."

*

Dinner is dinner. Doesn't matter what they're celebrating, it's always loud, and Ray doesn't know what half of the guests are doing there, and it takes two wine glasses to get the pinched expression off Stella's face.

When it gets too stuffy for him to handle the table anymore, he comes out on the back porch, and there Kowalski is, sitting on the steps, beer in hand, shoulders down and relaxed for once.

Ray sits down next to him. Kowalski gives him a look he can't quite read. Nowhere near hostile, though. "So," he says. "Florida, huh?"

"Chicago, huh?" Ray returns, smiling.

Kowalski looks down and is silent for a long time, long enough for Ray to groan internally and write the conversation off as a failure. But Kowalski says, "It's queer, you know. We didn't—have a whole thing about it. Just got two tickets, and that was that."

Ray nods. He already got how whipped Fraser is, but it still comes as a bit of a surprise that it was that easy, with Kowalski wound tighter than a spring when the Muldoon case went down.

"It's harder being friends with him when you're not running around trying to protect his ass, you know," Ray offers.

Kowalski snickers. "You say it like it's easy when you are."

"Well," Ray says, takes a second to think, "he can't be anything else, can he? At least when you're there all the time, you know. You know each other."

"Yeah," Kowalski says. "Guess so." He's staring into space, chewing on his nail, and Ray guesses it took way longer than it should have for him and Fraser to get where they stood.

"Oh, hey." Kowalski perks up, reaches into his back pocket. He gives Ray a slip of paper with some numbers in wonky block capitals.

"This better not be a shrink," Ray says, unfolding it, and Kowalski snorts, then suddenly looks down and scratches the back of his neck, bashful.

"Nah. At the show the other week, this guy—anyway, since I crashed your ride and all... well, call it. And, uh, call me if you need a hand with it."

Ray blinks in disbelief. At this point, he figured keeping a Riv was more trouble than it's worth. "Well, shit. Never expected you to be this sentimental."

Kowalski starts to smile, slow and delighted. "That's because you're not running around trying to protect my ass all day."

And then there's Fraser's voice calling out from somewhere in the house—"Ray!"—and when Kowalski turns his whole body instinctively at the sound, eyes bright, there can be no mistake whose name it is.

When it's finally dusk, and the air is getting too cold for lingering in the yard, Ray goes back in. The house is mostly empty and it's just Ma and him and a couple of late guests he isn't sure he recognizes passing him by in the hallway with goodbyes. The radio is on in the kitchen, slow notes, quiet strumming, and he can hear Stella hum softly over the quiet clinking of dishes and water splashing.

In the dark, finally empty living room to his left, he catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and when he turns to look, there's Benny, shuffling around slowly in an approximation of a dance, Kowalski's blond head on his shoulder, arms around each other.

He watches them for a moment, barely illuminated by the hallway light, then turns away and goes to help Stella with the dishes. He figures they've all got nothing but time.

[marley-manson]

Fraser: Does it hurt?  Vecchio: Of course it hurts.  Fraser: Thanks.  Vecchio: For what. getting shot?  Fraser: Yeah.  Vecchio: Yeah I figured you'd like that.  Fraser: Well I'm not proud about that but I'll admit I did get a certain perverse pleasure out of it.  Vecchio: Ah you see you were mad at me.  Fraser: Well you shot me in the back.  Vecchio: But that was an ACCIDENT!  Fraser: Well I know, so was yours. ...It was an accident wasn't it Ray?  Vecchio: Yes. Of course it was.  Fraser: Ah well there you go. Enough said. Even Steven.

@pigtailedgirl basically I think this scene highlights the unevenness of Ray and Fraser's relationship, because Fraser says they're 'even steven' under the willfully blind assumption that Ray accidentally got shot for him rather than full on taking the bullet.

Ray is lying when he says "of course it was" because, I figure, he wants to maintain the tentative sense of normalcy between them, something Ray's been desperate for all episode.

We know he's lying because we watched him take that bullet, and because Ray doesn't say anything in response until Fraser turns it into a question thereby narratively showing us that Fraser is wrong in his assumption because that's how this kind of dialogue works, and because of the delivery of this exchange. And arguably because of the parallel in what Fraser says right before Ray takes the bullet: "Sometimes you can love someone so much that you are willing to do almost anything for them."

And essentially, by framing the shootings in terms of being "even" (or not), the narrative is deliberately pointing out that their relationship is uneven here because Fraser has been resenting Ray over an accident that Ray feels incredibly guilty about (because deep down he really he resents him for preventing him from running away with Victoria, imo, not for the shot itself, that's just an externalization of more complicated feelings), and then pointedly avoids acknowledging Ray's self-sacrifice. And I think this is deliberate writing because the next couple episodes, North and Vault, thoroughly explore this unevenness in the ways Fraser takes Ray's willingness to sacrifice himself for him for granted, and the ways Fraser can be selfish, hidden behind devotion to duty.

Not acknowledged in Letting Go as far as I remember (which is also telling of their relationship imo) but also worth pointing out is that by running away with Victoria Fraser was fucking over the Vecchio family enormously after Ray mortgaged the house for Fraser's bail. So yk, if we're counting moral debts like tallies the way Fraser does in this ending tag lol, that's another point to Ray.

Basically: this exchange is ironic because by these standards they're definitely not even, the show knows it, and it sets up the ways the next two episodes explore that unneveness.

[pigtailedgirl]

Expanding on Good For The Soul, and the question of what Fraser's motive is.

I said elsewhere before, but what strikes me as difficult to reconcile in the episode is the idea that Fraser suddenly can't stand to see the injustice of the busboy getting slapped and it being ignored by both public and system. By Warfield himself.

Fraser is not that naive.

And he normally operates in understanding that not everyone follows the same tenets or ideals he does. And that when he pushes, it’s usually to help.

But not here.

He judges and tries to shame Warfield. He tries to shame the public. He judges the 27th for not thinking this is big enough to pursue. He judges everyone subtly for their fear or their letting this mob power win. On pure principle alone.

Did he believe the obligation to get what would've amounted to fake apology without the unintended escalation was actually justice? Or is it, as he says, about a first pillar of not letting that enemy's belief system win? As he was down with the 27th going hard in the club to support him finally at end, no matter the skirting of legality in that part, it seems Fraser is looking for a fight for Christmas.

He wanted more than justice; He wanted to beat back the idea of intimidation of the mobster.

He doggedly pursues not to right the wrong, to really tackle the actual offence, and not to champion the busboy or restore the old man's desire to stand, but his own.

It's interesting in context of: Why now Fraser? Why this one for you?

A mobster he didn’t see coming.

Why, when in an episode that this one heavily references The Deal , he understood and sympathized with the nuance of and fear of inability. Or the grief of in Juliet is Bleeding.

And I think that comparison keys into the answer.

Because Fraser no longer wants to accept inability or fear of or not being a hero who stands against that mob power. Or imagine himself or someone having to do it alone.

As Ray Vecchio did for Joey Paducci outside in The Deal. As Fraser did outside in Juliet is Bleeding. Here is the third turn. Here is a bully mobster and a lonely Christmas Fraser who wants to believe you don’t have to be alone in believing the ideal is worth it.

This scenario is playing on a fear of his commitment to the ideal hurts worse than the slap to the face taken or beat down encore.

That say, someone out there alone facing down the mob might also lose or break to that system or have justice fail to keep good too.

Ahhhhh as they say.

So Fraser faces this stand-in in place.

Fraser’s unfortunately having to do it sans Ray Vecchio who would have never let Fraser take on Warfield himself or left him alone at that club.

Though Fraser finally gets a measure of comfort and closure as Ray Kowalski and the 27th pick up the support by end, closing what the 27th couldn’t do in Juliet is Bleeding in it’s own griefs and cop justice vices. Here they apologize and come to support him and we close that family loop like he finds some comfort in Bob's Christmas gift.

[thefancyspin]

Writing Asks Meme

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

188

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

533, 435

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Too many to name but mainly hawaii five 0, eastenders, emmerdale, skam and due south.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

the blind side (mcdanno)

breathe for two (mcdanno)

outside the lines (mcdanno)

safe at anchor (mcdanno)

tell me with your body (skam)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! Even though I don't always have anything worthwhile to say, I try and reply to them all to say thank you and let people know how much I appreciate it. Sometimes I forget or I miss a few but I try!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

There is here at the wayside which is ben/callum in an imagined affair era. My soaps fandoms are probably the only ones I've written angsty endings for haha

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

There are so many, too many to mention. I much prefer happier endings haha.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nah, only some dumb comments from the infamous 'ds anon'who doesn't like ray kowalski.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have more recently, and a few PWPs but I fail at writing anything without feelings.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, I've never done any crossovers. But I don't read them very much either so. Not really my thing.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't believe so?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I've had a few translated into Chinese, Russian, and Italian. I think that's all?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I did co-write a story in the jongens fandom, called Count on Me. It was a very strange but lovely experience!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

It's difficult to choose between mcdanno, and fraser/ray k. I love ballum and robron, too, but the others endure through so much. definitely my otps.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't have any WIPS that I've posted but I have a ton of unfinished stories in my documents. a due south au, a midsomer murder futurefic and an sga fic that I particularly like all of but I just can't write any more. hopefully it will come back one day.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and turns of phrase.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptive passages and setting up scenes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but usually only a word here and there, not big blocks. I'd have to talk to a native speaker about it, and get a good beta, if I was doing that.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I think it was Harry Potter.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I'm a fan of outside the lines and like to reread it now and then!

I just tagged myself in this meme haha and welcome any one to do the same if you feel like it

[bylightofdawn]

Fanfic Rec: Chicago's Most Wanted

So I started to re-read Chicago's Most Wanted and I forgot how HILARIOUS this fic is. It opens in media res with Fraser and Ray K in an interogation room and from there jumps back in time to where Fraser is undercover in a prison, gets konked on the head and forgets he's a Mountie etc. He buys his cover identity and just...goes with it. Becoming a unholy terror to the CPD and a modern day robin hood who wins the hearts and support of the people because he gives huge chunks of his burgled loot to those in need. Because even an amensiac Fraser is still a do gooder at heart.

Meanwhile poor Ray is losing his mind over the whole thing.

So it's pretty much the plot of a really ridiculous and totally believable due South episode. In point of fact, Fraser did lose his memory in one episode from a similar konk to the head.

Even if you don't know this fandom I highly recommend it because it's hilarious, a fun romp, well-written and just the right amount of spicy.

[variousqueerthings]

fraser and ray and hospitals

pilot (ray gets caught in an explosion by pushing fraser to safety)

ray: "i, uh... i think this was a big mistake." fraser: "yeah." ray: "i screwed up, i'm sorry." fraser: "don't." ray (tears in his eyes): "yeah."

manhunt (s1ep3) (fraser gets stabbed in the thigh while fighting a mass-murderer)

(in the hallway, ray speaks to buck frobisher) ray : "you- you know i can't believe it, i mean it's like... fraser he was invisible i mean..." frobisher: "yeah. happens to the best of us." ray: "... yeah." (ray then enters fraser's hospital room) ray (chipper): "how's it going?" fraser: they tried to cut off my boots." ray: "no!"

letting go (s1ep22) (ray accidentally shoots fraser in the back while aiming for fraser's sort-of-not-girlfriend/big time criminal and fraser has to go through a long recuperation)

ray: (handing him a present): "it's a power saw." fraser: "so it is." ray: "top of the line, guaranteed not to rust, with a lifetime warranty." fraser: "hm. What's it for?" ray: "your dad's cabin. I thought we'd go up there together and I'd help you rebuild it." fraser: "oh, Ray, you hated that cabin." ray: "ah, no, I didn't, I just hated leaving it to go to the can. Which brings me to this. (hands Fraser a binder) Pick one. My treat." (The binder is open to "bathroom fixtures.") fraser (smiling): "you know, you really don't have to do this."

ray: "okay, wait, wait. Wait, wait. (He gets the gift box and the binder out of the way and lifts Fraser's legs into the bed. Fraser exhales roughly.) You want me to go?" fraser: "no." ray: (smiles, sits in the wheelchair): "hey, this is pretty cool. You know, I think it'll be good. That, uh, we go up there for a while." [...]

ray: "hey. where do you buy lumber up there?" fraser: "you cut it." ray (laughing): "what like from the forest?" fraser (smiling): "ye-ap." ray (still laughing): "you're kidding me right?" fraser (still smiling): "nope." ray: "wow. you know how to do that? fraser: [makes knocking noises as if with an axe] "tok - tok." ray: "well... i don't have an axe." fraser: "I have an axe." ray: i'll have to go buy an axe. you got an axe for me?" fraser: "yeah. ive got two axes... two."

letting go pt2 (s1ep22) (ray gets shot while pushing fraser out of the way of a bullet)

ray: "all right, be caref— stop jerking it. Be careful. Okay, okay, okay. (Fraser wheels himself around to sit next to him.) fraser: "does it hurt?" ray: "of course it hurts." fraser: "thanks." ray: "for what, getting shot?" fraser: "yeah. ray: "yeah, I figured you'd like that." fraser: "well, I'm not proud about that, but I'll admit I did get a certain perverse pleasure out of it."

juliet is bleeding (s2ep7) (ray's first serious girlfriend is shot and killed in his arms)

(ray is about to head into a hallway with press everywhere) fraser: "I don't think you want to go in there." (He steers ray back into the waiting area and sits down next to him). ray (tears in his eyes): "you know . . . the first time I ever asked her to dance was in PE class. She kept trying to lead. Finally had to ask her to- to relax. That it would be okay. "Just put your head on my shoulder and close your eyes. Everything's going to be okay.""

flashback s2ep18 (fraser gets a concussion and loses his memory)

fraser: "and then we, um..." ray: "bonded." fraser: "bonded. We bonded?" ray (tears in his eyes): "yeah, you could say that."

call of the wild pt1 (s4ep12) (ray gets shot saving fraser from a bullet again, mimicking both the pilot and the s1 finale)

ray: "it's just a flesh wound. You know, I've been waiting all my life to say that. It's not as much fun as I thought it would be. Just like old times, huh?" fraser: "unhappily, yes." ray: "do you Mounties still always get your man?" fraser: "we try to."

[...]

hon. mentions a little to the left: hawk and a handsaw: fraser goes undercover as a patient at a mental health hospital that's testing an illegal drug on its inmates and ray goes to visit him for information north: fraser gets a concussion and goes blind/eventually loses the ability to walk, so ray has to carry him through the wilderness witness: ray is put in prison for contempt of a judge and fraser goes undercover as a prisoner to save his life after he sees he's been beaten up during a prison visit

[sammaggs]

3x02 Eclipse | Nightmare

Stay with me on this one: I don’t think Marcus Ellory ever shows up to his mother's grave in Eclipse.

As truepenny points out in her typically-brilliant meta, Eclipse is written in the style of the Greek theatre's katabasis, a journey to the Underworld (followed by anabasis, the return to the world of the living). You've seen Hadestown? You've seen a katabasis.

This is another playwright John Krizanc joint, and as other people smarter than me have meta’d, Ray’s katabasis sees our hero venturing to the Underworld (a literal graveyard/crypt/grave); solving the riddle presented by the Underworld's guardian ("There. Now it's broken and it's working." "Good man."); learning a fundamental truth about the cyclical nature of life or undergoing a symbolic death of the past self; and then returning to the land of the living as a new or newly-knowledgeable person.

Ray Kowalski is tormented by Marcus Ellory as a symbol of his life up until this point. The two defining features of Ray Kowalski's life up until he meets Fraser are 1) Stella, and B) being a cop. "The point is, I mean, my whole life, it all starts and ends with this one guy."

But that part of Ray's life is over.

To make this a metaphor for queerness (as someone who personally married a man before coming out as a lesbian around Ray's age), in our mid-30s we're often forced to deconstruct the narratives of our lives that we've been so devoted to until this point. Have we been living for ourselves, or for other people? Has doing what society expects of us made us happy?

If you're closeted, the answer is usually going to be no. And that means you have to burn down your entire life to start fresh (the house, if you will). It means you have to grieve your past self—the one who had a heterosexual spouse and a house in the suburbs and did what society expected of you—in order to make room to rebirth your authentic self.

In the Underworld, and in the graveyard, Ray buries the man who wanted a wife; the man who wanted revenge on Ellory; the man who was a con job.

He's revived a man with a new partner, no longer motivated by vengeance, and who knows he's a damn good cop because he is.

So now that we've established all of that, let's get back to Ellory.

Ellory doesn't show up for his mother's funeral; by the time the mourners are leaving, he's still not there. "You know, Ray, I'm pretty sure he'll come," says Fraser, at 4:30PM. "We have time." But after Fraser gives Ray his own history back to him, Ellory still hasn't showed. They decide to leave, and Ray throws his dream catcher to the wind... where it's caught by Marcus Ellory.

"It's a dream catcher," says Fraser. "It tangles up bad dreams."

It tangles up bad dreams.

Ray puts on his glasses; he can't really see Ellory clearly. Then, once they end up together in the grave, no one else ever sees them. Fraser never sees Ellory. By the time Ray is reborn anew after the eclipse (literal darkness into light!), Ellory is nowhere to be seen. Suspicious!

I think the casting choice here, too, is deliberately made to make Ellory an allegorical figure as opposed to a literal one. Peter Bray, the actor, is 6'7". He's huge, and lying in the grave next to him, Ray looks even smaller than usual.

That's because we are seeing Marcus Ellory the way twelve-year-old Stan Kowalski would have. Huge, imposing, feet taller than him; essentially a cartoon villain. Ellory is exactly the same here as he is in Ray's memory, unchanged but for a little grey, even though twenty-three years have passed.

And then he disappears.

Ellory is the final boss of Ray's katabasis, his eclipse-fueled nightmare, tangled up in and cleansed by the dreamcatcher Fraser made him—just like Fraser's recitation of Ray's citations tangles up and cleanses Ray's own poor consideration of himself.

But it’s not about Ellory, y’know?? It has nothing to do with Ellory, not really, and everything to do with Ray’s own perception of himself and the story he tells himself about his own life. In this way, I think it’s more powerful a read if Ellory is not there; it’s all Ray. Just Ray, letting go of the man he thought he was and choosing to become the man he wants to be.

For me, Ellory’s just a bad dream. He’s a larger-than-life demon of Ray’s own making. He’s probably in hiding or dead, but Ray doesn’t actually need the real Ellory to exorcise that demon. He just needs the right angel.

Ray Kowalski dies and is reborn (like due South!), at the end of what I consider to be the two-part opener of Season 3.

Happy 27th birthday, Eclipse (Sept. 21, 1997)! You're one of the all-timer episodes of TV.

[oldfangirl81]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

@sugdenlovesdingle this seemed to fun to pass up.

And I'm procrastinating writing.

How many works do you have on AO3? 50

What's your total AO3 word count? 115,555 (lots of wips)

What Fandom do you write for? Marvel, 9-1-1, 9-1-1 LS, Teen Wolf, Top Gun, DC comics, RWRB, Prodigal Son, Doctor Who, BtVS, Eureka, Due South and some SPN.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? High Flying Adventures in LA (Top Gun/911), 5 Times Tony Stark Did Not Want The Evil Person To Flirt With Him and 1 Time He Did Not Mind (Marvel/SPN/Doctor Who/True Blue), Walk Me Home (911/Eureka), Buster The Gay Dog (911), In The City (Top Gun/911/SWAT)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try but sometimes it does feel silly to just keep saying Thank you if there isn't anything else I can respond too.

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? If I Fall (BtVS/Doctor Who). Look I was reading a lot of a certain kind of BtVS fic so this one has Xander deciding to join The Master.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Maybe Buster the Gay Dog (911) or A Thousand Good Stories (Top Gun/911 Lone Star). The first Eddie & Buck get together at the end. And the second Bradley & Jake are engaged by the end.

Do you get hate on fics? Rarely. But the funniest one to me was on the 5 Times Tony Stark fic. I was called both a misogynist and homophobic.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? I very rarely write true smut. I do fade to black often. I did write a fic once where Starfire gave Jason a blowjob in an alley. And I swear it isn't exactly what it sounds like but it is at the same time. She was trying to make him stop risking his life by giving him something to live for. Look there is a reason I don't write much smut in over a decade.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Yes, I write crossovers. It's kinda my thing really. As for the craziest one? I honestly don't know because a bunch are probably considered odd. Maybe the Marvel crossover with Red White & Royal Blue. Or maybe 9-1-1 and Eureka. Or maybe 9-1-1 Lone Star & Marvel. Or 9-1-1 Lone Star & DC comics. Or maybe my recent Danny Phantom and 9-1-1.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yup. It was copied word for word. But it was so long ago I couldn't actually tell which of my fics it was. It might even be one of the ones I orphaned in the years to follow because I don't touch that fandom anymore, nor do I want it associated with me.

Have you ever had a fic translated? I don't think so. I'm not against it.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nope. The closest I've come was Tumblr RP over a decade ago now.

What's your all time favorite ship? I can't really pick. I rarely abandon ships for good. I still love Benton Fraser/Ray K, Blair Sandburg/Jim Ellison, Xander Harris/Spike, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, Stiles/Derek Hale, Steve McGarret/Danny Williams, Danny Messer/Mac Taylor, Danny Messer/Don Flack, Kaylee Fyre/Simon Tam and most of those have been off the air for years and years now.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Something About That Boy (Marvel/BtVS) or Where Me Demons Hide? (Marvel/BtVS)

What are your writing strengths? I'd like to say my dialogue. And ridiculous chaotic plots in a fun way.

What are your writing weaknesses? Finishing a story before starting ten more. The non dialogue parts.

Thoughts on writing dialouge in another language in a fic? Be careful there be dragons there. I know I've done it in some fics. And a sentence here or there isn't the worst if you aren't fluent. But be open if someone ever corrects you. And more than that maybe find a beta that is fluent in whatever language you are hoping to add to the fic. I know google translate can be rough.

First fandom you wrote in? Ugh, I don't want to answer but if googling my penname is accurate it would have been May '05 so it appears to have been a Harry Potter and BtVs crossover.

Favorite fic you've written? Toss up between Won't You Come See About Me (Top Gun/Marvel) or Wild Angels (9-1-1 Lone Star/DC Comics). Both are WIPs that are NOT abandoned in the slightest.

If you read all this thanks for supporting my procrastination. And feel free to answer these questions yourself.

[sammaggs]

Oh, well, yeah, I mean, this is one of due South's less subtle metaphors, honestly, but Frannie's lines about Eloise are actually about Fraser. Let's look:

FRANCESCA: You know, she is such a nice kid. I feel really sorry for her. FRASER: Why? FRANCESCA: Well, she never goes out, she's never been to school. Her parents keep her locked up in that church all the time. What kind of life is that for a kid? I mean, really, what kind of parents would do that?

That's Fraser's childhood in a nutshell, right?

Never goes out (raised in the bush)

Never been to school (homeschooled)

Kept locked up (homeschooled, the bush, wherever his grandparents library was at any given moment, I mean god ALERT doesn't even have any other children and Fraser was eight)

What kind of life is that for a kid?

Well, it's the life Fraser was given. It was the childhood he had. Frannie looks at that and sees something unconscionable. What does that say about Fraser? What must he think Frannie thinks of him? What does he think of himself?

And what kind of parents would do that?

due South reprimands Bob Fraser again and again and again for his negligent parenting (as it should), but this really puts the screws to Fraser's grandparents, too. They probably should have moved the kid to Inuvik or Dawson City when his mother died, but they didn't.

Like most episodes of due South, Say Amen is inviting you to compare Fraser and Ray with the guest stars of the episode. In this case, Fraser maps on to Eloise and Ray maps on to Davy, and

There's the above and the most obvious (sheltered saintly child from another culture meets South-side Chicago troublemaker kid). Then there's the love at first sight element to this (Fraser says he fell in love with Ray at first sight the same way Eloise did with Davy).

But there's also the magic of it. Eloise can heal people, that's her power; Fraser has his particular and bizarre brand of magic. They're both people who could use their magic for the greater good and have been manipulated into doing so by less-than-angelic agents (Eloise's criminal kidnapper parents; the Royal Canadian Mounted P*lice). Eloise's "father" says he wants to make her gift available to the world (enriching himself in the process, of course). The Mounties want to use Fraser's powers to their benefit (but only until he uses them to take down one of their own).

In actuality, Fraser and Eloise are neither of them obligated to use their gifts for anyone but themselves. Eloise's best use of her gift is healing Davy, the boy she loves. Fraser's best use of his gift is building a cabin for Ray (the boy he loves) in the wilderness.

Anyways, I'm getting off the point here, but, yeah, it's a metaphor!!

In the episode Say Amen, Fraser clearly responds to Eloise and her story of being locked away from the world for a seemingly greater purpose - it seems to make him pensive, even sad. Why do you think that is?

Remember, kids: there are no wrong answers except "bad writing lol" and "Fraser is imagining things". At least one person (me) will find your idea interesting, though I'm willing to gamble (not with money, mind you) that I won't be the only one. If you're shy, try sending your response as an anonymous ask for me to publish!

[flownwrong]

perpetuum mobile (due South fic)

Fraser/Kowalski, 5k words, tags: first kiss, post-canon, 5+1 things

Summary: Nothing's permanent.

Written for @duesouthseekritsanta as a treat for @feroxargentea. Thanks to @wicked3659 for running dSSS this year, and happy 20th birthday to the exchange!

read on ao3

1999, 22:37, Yukon

"Three bags. How is it three bags? I'm not even doing souvenirs." Ray ran his hands through his hair, said, "Ow, ow, fucking ow," as the edge of his sleeve produced a visible spark of static electricity.

Dief nosed his way under Ray's elbow and stuck his face deep into a bag. Probably the one half-full with dirty laundry, seeing as Ray had spent a truly impressive amount of time putting the packing off.

Ray grabbed Dief's muzzle firmly in two hands and gave it an impatient shake. "Hey, eyes up here. How is it three bags, Dief?"

Dief snorted with enough derision to make the cabin walls wilt and nudged his way to the fireplace.

"Right, right. I thought we borrowed most of this stuff, how did..."

He crouched down and reached up a blind hand over his shoulder. Fraser put Ray's green scarf into the waiting palm. He wanted desperately to ask Ray why he was taking his winter gear back home in the first place.

"You're welcome to store any clothing or, ah, personal items here, between your visits." The words felt as presumptuous as they did inevitable.

Ray spun quickly on his knees and squinted at him, ever good at hearing the unsaid.

Fraser's neck was itching under the collar of his flannel. Days were getting hotter fast. "I can mail them to you at your request. The postal service here is really remarkably fast, considering."

Ray fingered the little hole in the scarf where a stitch had come undone. "No, no, you hang onto them."

His mouth was downturned, but his laugh lines were clearer now than Fraser has ever seen them. Between the windburn and the sun, Ray's skin was darker, eager to reveal the expressive motions of his face. Fraser looked his fill, already missing it fiercely.

Ray ducked his head. "Shit, when I was moving out, Stella looked like she'd nuke everything I didn't carry on my back." He linked his fingers behind his neck and shivered without moving, somehow. When he looked back up, his smile was a jolt of radiance. "Imagine how much shit I'd hoard around here in another ten years."

His throat felt tight as he reached for the thick mittens Ray'd hated so much on the trail. Feel like the T-Rex, he'd said, staring at the steaming snow where his cocoa mug landed, mouth downturned and quivering like a child's. Can't do a damn thing without you.

He'd been exhausted, one of those first days out, searching desperately for something that Fraser could never seem to get into focus, like looking through a dirty lens, or maybe from too close a distance. By the time they got back and Ray held the cabin door open for Fraser, he was—serene. A Ray he hoped nobody else had gotten to see.

Fraser came back with no serenity in sight, which was confusing and bitter and made him helplessly afraid of the four walls around him, of going back into the vastness beyond.

He turned the mittens over, traced the creases where they'd molded themselves to Ray's hands with his thumb. He could feel Ray's eyes following the motion.

Ray shook his head, his mouth a tight line. "Here, gimme a hand," he said and yanked hard at the duffel's zipper, once, twice, watching it catch on the green weave.

They took Maggie's kindly offered pickup to the airstrip. It was almost summer, the terrain free of snow. Diefenbaker refused to get out, sounding torn between whining and snarling. Ray climbed halfway up the seat and leaned into the back.

"Hey, mutt, you take that back," he said, hand pressed firmly into the thick fur at Dief's nape, "sure I'm coming back. Every chance I get, and—I'm not leaving, okay?" Ray's voice dropped, raw and frantic. "I can do it. You—I can do it." Fraser watched him lower his head, hands going slack on Dief, and hoped against all hope Ray knew who he was talking to.

Halfway through dinner—the last of Ray's artless stew made in a bout of either inspiration or procrastination—he put the spoon down and picked up the mittens he'd discarded on the windowsill. Can't do a damn thing without you, he thought, and felt like his chest was breaking open.

2000, 09:07, the 2-7

Huey was on Ray's phone as he walked up to his desk, which was nothing unusual, what with him being less than ten minutes late and probably not expected for another thirty, and Frannie was practically jumping up to peek over his shoulder, gesturing wildly as he spun around and around until she was practically growling.

He snapped his fingers at Ray, mouthing Fraser, and Ray ducked under Frannie's arm, snatching the phone from his hand.

"Ray?" the receiver asked in a tinny Fraser-voice.

"Hey. Couldn't wait to get me at home?" He was smiling like a sap, so loud it was kind of embarrassing. Two days since they last spoke. A real hair-trigger.

Someone called Fraser's name faintly on the other end of the line.

"Thank you kindly, Maggie, that won't be necessary, and Ray, I'm calling to give you my new address, actually," Fraser said without pausing for breath.

"At how much AM on a Monday? Wait, Maggie's there?"

"Ah, yes, Ray. She insisted on driving me from the airport."

Frannie nudged his shoulder and swerved him bodily until he could see Welsh tapping his left wrist and motioning for Ray to shake a leg. Ray made like Dief and shook his head instead, earning himself some dizziness. "Say again?"

"Ah, I should've mentioned it sooner, but—I took a posting at Whitehorse, as of tomorrow."

"You what? Wait, wait, your cabin didn't burn down or anything? Is Maggie—what?"

Frannie sure knew an opening when she saw one, so that was when she did a solid Michael Jordan impression and snatched the phone from Ray's hands.

"Frase! It's so good to hear you! You sound really, and I mean really—oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize"—she gave Ray a major stink-eye for no apparent reason—"yeah, yeah, I'll bring your highest regards, I'm printing them out as we speak. Yes, yes, I'm doing good, just, really good, I had this great date last night—well, not so great, kind of a douche, so it's not like it's going anywhere, and, HEY!"

"This," Ray brandished the recaptured receiver over his head, "is now a pay phone. Come back with a quarter, or, you know, don't."

That got him a shrug and a seriously dangerous-looking eye roll, but that was par for the course.

"Yeah, Fraser. So, what?"

Fraser cleared his throat twice, and wow, there must've been something really awkward he was going to drop on Ray's head.

"Well, Ray, the fact of it is, I found myself somewhat... unmoored."

"Unmoored."

"Yes, Ray. Unmoored. Out of my depth."

"In the Territories?" Ray's brow was gonna fall off if he frowned any harder.

"Yes—that is, no. It occurred to me that I have grown—possibly—too accustomed to the state of being, as you would put it, 'a capella'."

Ray swallowed and nodded, then blinked and realized he'd probably do better sitting down for this conversation.

"A capella, huh." He elbowed yesterday's paperwork aside and dropped into his chair. "Fraser, you do realize you get to choose now? If you wanna hide from the world, you go, convene with the caribou. You earned it."

He could hear Fraser rubbing his brow. "I don't want to hide from the world, Ray."

Ray opened his mouth to say, yes, 'course you do, I get it, but then—Fraser probably had fifty words for lonely, like the Inuit and their thing for snow. Maybe lonely has lost some of its appeal. Maybe lonely changed meaning, hopped across the dictionary, and, in a truly bizarre way, landed near "home". Well, shit. Trust Fraser to not act in Fraser's best interests.

"Okay," he heard himself say, raising a placating hand. "That's, um, good to hear."

"You know, Ray, John Keats noted in one of his odes that solitude is easier borne where one has the freedom to be expressly and unmistakably alone with nature rather than 'among the jumbled heap of murky buildings'. My time in Chicago was certainly proof enough. But the more I return to his words, the more I look at another passage—"

Huey caught his eye and mimed something vaguely threatening.

"—poem, which—"

Ray groaned and dragged a hand over his face. "Jesus, Fraser. Now is not the time to be quoting poetry at me."

"Oh. Ray, I realise I sound somewhat maudlin—"

Ray waved his hand at the phone, annoyed at having his attention torn—never a good tactic with Fraser. "No, no, no, I don't mean it like—listen, Welsh will have my hide if I keep this up much longer. I'll get back to you when I'm home—or, um, when you're home, I guess. Gimme the number, will you?"

"Ah. Certainly, Ray."

Ray grabbed a post-it and wrote the digits down hastily.

"Be safe," Fraser said.

"Right. I will."

He dropped the handset back and stood up before he realized that, a) Fraser could easily call him after getting home, unless he planned to catch Ray with his hands tied and, b) with Fraser across the border and a zillion miles away, the murky buildings did suck massive balls.

He chewed on his thumbnail on his way to Welsh's office.

He chewed on it again after asking the kid behind the counter at the book spot near his place what the poem with the buildings was.

2003, 14:21, N. Octavia Ave

"This is ass-backwards, Fraser," Ray said, balancing seven shoeboxes between two arms and a knee, as Francesca said, "I'll nail your ass backwards to my door if you drop those pumps, bro," and Fraser said, "How so, Ray?"

"It's two weeks in Chicago. There's squat to do. What's not ass-backwards about this?"

Ray was being a hypocrite, really.

"Seeing as you have been spending much of your leave in Canada, I don't think you have a leg to stand on."

"Hell yes I don't, I'm holding shoes on my knee. Which, why are we hauling my ex-fake-sister's schmutter on our backs through the whole city on my day off?"

"It's three blocks, geez!" Francesca said.

"I'm sure you would appreciate the help were your positions reversed, Ray," Fraser added.

"Hey, casa de Ray is not going anywhere anytime soon," Ray said, defensive.

Francesca snorted and looked over her shoulder. "I bet."

Ray bared his teeth at her. "What's that supposed to mean?" He glanced longingly at a passing truck. "Jesus, Frannie, why don't you at least use those rolling rack things?"

Francesca sighed a sigh of the horribly wronged. "I'll roll your rack if—"

"I got it, I got it, you can pipe down now." Ray's hands twitched on the boxes, but he settled for a scowl, thankfully.

"Ray, it's only a short trip on foot—"

"Fraser, you're carrying dresses—"

"Yeah, Ray, and with you hogging the Fraser—"

"Me what?"

"Although, perhaps, in your condition, Francesca—"

"It's not a bug, Fraser, it's called pregnancy—"

"Me what?"

Francesca threw her hands up and stopped, turning on her heel. "Alright, alright." She closed her eyes and counted to ten under her breath, then jabbed a finger at Ray and kept talking to Fraser. "I know you came to see Ray, but it is two weeks. Forgive me for not realizing some time together that isn't yelling at each other over lasagna is too much to ask."

His hands grew cold so fast he wanted to push them against his rapidly warming face. "Francesca, I'm sorry I have given you the impression I don't enjoy my time together with you and your family."

She sighed wearily and looked skyward. "Impression. Right."

"There is a lot in this city for me to come back to," Fraser said, meeting Ray's eyes, wide and wounded.

Francesca's face softened into something like pity. Ray ducked his head and put the revered pumps down slowly.

"Hey," he said, and nudged Francesca's right boot gently with his left. "Whadda you say we get you settled and, um, you can make tea—or I can make tea, just not Fraser, I'm not drinking tree juice—and then we veg out? It's my day off. Got nowhere to be."

Francesca looked confused, primed for an explosion that never happened. Ray sent him a flash of a wink.

Ray was wrong: two weeks, even confined to city limits, was not nearly enough.

By the time Francesca let them go, it was getting dark. Ray scuffed the toe of his boot against the asphalt. "So, uh. Wanna catch a show? Or, or we could just get some grub—"

"I would love that, Ray."

Ray smiled, endearingly lopsided, then not, then snorted helplessly and started laughing, flinging an arm around Fraser's shoulders.

"Come on," he said, giving him a brief but firm shake. He piled Fraser into the GTO, put his glasses on without complaining—for once—about how he could drive just fine asleep with his hands tied, tossed him the cell phone and turned the keys in the ignition. "Chinese okay with you?"

Fraser dialed the number from memory and recited their order, which hadn't changed in years.

Ray's place was largely unchanged, too, and he felt a hot prick of shame for hoping that it was so. Ray'd swapped the television set for a newer, bigger one, and the plumbing seemed to have improved, the metallic smell of tap water less noticeable. The one toothbrush was perched precariously on the edge of the bathroom sink, near the empty cup.

The kitchen counter was still covered in junk mail. The photograph Maggie took of them, two days before Ray had to go, was pinned high on the fridge with a Leafs magnet he didn't expect to see here. He hoped Ray didn't look too hard at the picture—he thought he could see the cornered quality of his own gaze from where he was standing.

"Stay the night?" Ray said, folding back the flaps of his takeout bag and peering inside like he was waiting for something to jump out of it.

Fraser picked up the chopsticks—the nice ones Ray had bought for him and never commented on while snapping apart his own and rolling them between his palms to smooth out any splinters, every time for months and months of takeout dinners—and inhaled the fragrant steam, keeping his breathing even.

The hotel was a safety catch, as was, he supposed, the careful timing of their respective vacations so that they never overlapped fully. Ray had always held up his part of the unspoken deal. If this was a trust fall, he was willing to take it.

"Alright."

Ray's lips curved into a smile, unguarded and relieved, and Fraser's ribs felt tight.

2005, 23:49, apt. 309

Ray unbuckled the holster, his shoulder throbbing sharply.

He was slower than Elaine this time—equal parts pathetic and unnerving. Forty three was not it. He was not gonna croak at forty three, courtesy of some crook with sharp elbows. Fraser would laugh at him. Well, no, Fraser would frown at him. Dief would totally laugh at him.

He grabbed a Miller out of the fridge and picked up the phone.

"Hello, Ray," Fraser said, muffled.

"Hey yourself. Whatcha eating?"

"Oh—pizza."

"You got mushrooms on there?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do."

"Right," Ray said and looked at the mess of dishes in the sink. "Your funeral." He picked up the brush and stared at it before dropping it back into a dirty bowl and popping the beer open.

"How did the housewarming go?"

Elaine's building was nice, newer than his, a little further uptown, her apartment uncluttered but lived-in already. He'd stuck to people-watching in the corner, mostly, and wallowed in being too old to go anywhere now. It was kind of a good wallow, not sad or anything, just—content. Eight years on, he still liked his digs. Not like there was any need for a second bedroom—Fraser had always been cool with the couch.

"Uh, great, great. Got herself a good guy, Tony. A lawyer, no less. Wedding's next April."

Fraser was somehow smiling politely into his ear.

"What? What?"

"Oh, nothing, Ray. I got reminded of—that's not important."

Ray groaned. "God, Fraser. Elaine is way prettier—and sharper—than I ever was. And Tony—let's just say Stella he ain't. They'll knock it out of the park, you just wait."

"You've never not been sharp, Ray. Or, ah—eye-catching," Fraser said in this soft voice reserved for late night, before-bed calls. Ray had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second.

"Yeah, right, I'm a regular James Dean. Oh, and, speaking of—Vecchio was there. He's back, him and Stella."

"So I've heard."

There was a shrill whistle of the kettle in the background, and the clutter of Fraser putting the phone down to deal with it. Ray frowned at the mysterious stain on his sleeve and swallowed another mouthful of beer.

Stella wasn't at Elaine's, which was just as well, but Vecchio was, and they'd chatted about cars—Vecchio got zip right—and Frannie's youngest, and it was fine, none of the edgy shit Ray'd come to expect from himself.

Fraser picked up the phone with a click. "Sorry, Ray. Please go on."

"Um, yeah. We're all co-pathetic now. He's got this whole private dick deal—hey, why am I telling you this? You two must gossip like fishwives."

"Well, yes, we did talk not so long ago. But that's beside the point." There was a smile in Fraser's voice. Beside the point, huh.

Ray kind of drifted into the bedroom, shrugged out of his beat-up flannel, yanked the t-shirt up, got the phone tangled in it and gave up, flopping sideways onto the bed.

The shoulder was sore as hell. The glasses were starting to hurt, too, jammed between the phone and his ear, and he flung them onto the nightstand with a bit too much force, picked up the beer instead.

"How's the mutt?"

A gruff Dief-noise was reassuringly loud on the line. Last time he heard it there was an unpleasant wheeze tucked onto the end; not this time. He huffed back. Never let it be said he wasn't a great conversationalist. When it came to aging half-wolves who couldn't see or hear him, anyway.

"Hey, I know, I know. Took one today myself."

Dief sneezed. He knew it, he knew he'd never live it down.

"Diefenbaker, that was uncalled for." A grumble. "Are you alright, Ray?"

"Peachy. Bastard dislocated my shoulder. Elaine got him cuffed before I could whack him."

"I'm glad to hear that. You two make a good team."

"That we do, Fraser, that we do."

He got kinda lucky when Elaine made detective. He'd worked alone, mostly, a fact he knew Fraser knew and didn't seem too happy about. So when he'd finally partnered up with her, Fraser seemed to unclench, and she could hold her own, didn't chafe, didn't bring up any Fraser-memories.

Then again, his Fraser-memories were now as much snowball fights and Chicago museums he didn't even know existed and the flannel Fraser'd left on the couch that first night Ray got over himself and asked him to stay—because really, the whole hotel thing was chicken—as they were burning cars and ice crevasses and Vecchio's crappy fake mustache signaling his personal apocalypse.

"Hey," he said, as it clicked, not a hunch but a stone cold truth, "we made it."

There was a long pause, and Ray swore he could hear Fraser thinking. "Yes, Ray, so you've said."

"No, no, not me and Elaine. I meant, um, you and me." He willed Fraser to know, because he didn't have the right words to mean six years of calls and emails and goddamn visits—and here they were, off the clock and on the phone, pizza and beer, and the two zillion kilometers (zillion miles was around two zillion kilometers, he remembered) mattered fuck all.

"I suppose so, Ray," Fraser said, low, and Ray couldn't stop imagining his stupid dimples and his stupid graying temples and the passing months he'll get to see on his face, next visit, next coming back, soon, soon.

2006, 09:02, Whitehorse

He signed at the last line and set the turtle paperweight down on the forms, like a lock. Immediately thought better of it, picked the pile up and evened the edges out against the table, lengthwise first.

He was lucky to get so much—his job, the only one that mattered; his home, not a long trip away; the kindness the city has extended to him, of not having to be alone and not having to be lost. Ray, highly irregular, always coming back.

It gave him courage. Made it easier to think, I want this, even if I have to leave, I want it, and pick up the pen, the phone, the bags, start moving.

"Hi, Frase," Ray said on the phone, hoarse with sleep.

"Ray."

"Mm-hmm?"

"I'm putting in for a transfer. I thought you would appreciate a, ah, a heads-up this time."

"Oh, hey, right! The promotion—you going back up there to hug the trees, or, or, the lichens?"

Fraser knew Ray could name most of the trees and the lichens and the bird species to boot, but that was neither here nor there. He resisted the urge to straighten out his uniform, seeing as he wasn't wearing one, on a Saturday morning in his own kitchen.

"No, Ray. As a matter of fact, there is an administrative position open at the consulate." He rubbed his eyebrow. "In Chicago."

There was a rustle of sheets—Ray sitting up in bed. "Admini—what, a desk job? Oh God, a Thatcher job?"

"Well, if you mean international espionage, then, no." He thought briefly on the oxymoronic quality of them discussing something they should have had no knowledge of in the first place.

"Don't—no." Ray sighed unevenly, then was silent for a long time.

He worried at the corner of the paper right next to his signature. The whole form would probably need redoing. "It's rather more restrictive than I would prefer, given the choice—then again, my duties as a sergeant would be less than ideal concerning the time I'd spend in my office, so it wouldn't be a big change. And, while we wouldn't be able to partner on cases like we used to—"

"You want to partner up with me?" Ray sounded—dangerous.

"It's hardly news to you, Ray."

Ray was gaining momentum as he spoke, louder and faster and more desperate. "Given the choice, what, given the choice?"

He stopped abruptly. Fraser imagined him running a hand through his hair, mussed with sleep and yesterday's helping of product.

"Listen, Frase. Can't you, dunno, wait until Monday?"

"I certainly could, Ray, but—oh." He had to put his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. The emptiness at his feet where Dief would curl up before still hurt acutely. "You don't want me back?" He sounded all of five years old and couldn't do a thing about it.

"No!" Ray's voice was a snarl, and it tore at Fraser's throat like it was his own. "God, Fraser, it's not back. Back is out there, back is away from that fucking desk, not Chicago."

It isn't Chicago, he wanted to say. You must know that much.

Ray's breathing came fast and uneven, like back in the GTO, when he shook apart after—and God, Fraser should have been smarter than this by now.

More rustling, the sound of Ray's open palm connecting with something solid once, twice. He wanted desperately to be standing there, to put his hand on the back of Ray's neck, rub circles against it like he didn't, hadn't dared to in that car.

"Ray—of all people, you know the most about what I can call home." It felt like a déjà vu. I don't want to hide from the world, Ray. He'd meant it more than anything, the choice of being alone where he'd been with Ray an unimaginable punishment.

There was a creak, like Ray was putting too much pressure on the receiver. "Yeah. Alright." He sniffled. "But, it's bad luck to paper shuffle on a Saturday morning, right?"

That was such a Ray non-sequitur it made him giggle recklessly. "Who said that, Ray?"

"Someone, I remember—they say it, okay? Just, go with me on this. Sleep on it. Forty-eight hours, and you do what you need to do. I have a hunch."

He opened his mouth to ask. Ray cut him off like he'd seen it.

"Uh-uh. Monday, okay? So we don't jinx it."

"So we don't jinx it," he repeated, willing to go with anything that got Ray saying sentences with the subject we.

The shrill ring of a doorbell almost knocked the phone out of Fraser's hand.

"Shit, should've left it broken," Ray mumbled. "Look, I have a, a thing here. I'll call you back, or, whatever, you know the drill. Just, forty-eight hours, okay? I'm counting."

"Forty-eight hours, Ray."

"Good."

He hung up, stared at the papers some more. Forty-eight hours had nothing on seven years.

Forty-eight hours, and Ray hadn't called, hadn't called it off, so Fraser walked into the RCMP building, up the stairs, turned left and—Ray was leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his beaten-up brown jacket, the same one he had on when he was leaving that first, most painful time. The slump of his shoulders screamed belligerent.

Ray pushed himself off the wall, jittery and graceful. "I've figured it out," he said, breathless. His hair was growing out, going half-heartedly for an unfamiliar slicked back look, and his eyes looked feverish. He looked younger than Fraser had ever known him, and older than he remembered. "I've figured it the fuck out. I quit, okay, I don't want to—" He kicked at the lone backpack at his feet. "Asked Stella to mail me what I need and nuke the rest."

Fraser couldn't take his eyes off him, three steps away, tried to think of something to say before he would inevitably move and knew the first thing out of his mouth would be a curse or a vow, no stopping it.

Ray crossed the distance and took the key from his limp hands, jammed it into the lock with too much force, said, c'mon, c'mon, and they were inside, door locked.

And then Ray was on Fraser, fists curled on his chest, forehead rubbing restlessly against his shoulder. "I figured it out, why didn't you say it, Fraser, Jesus, fucking desk job, fucking—poems, why didn't you just," and then Ray kissed him, or he kissed Ray, and someone was saying, "Fuck, I didn't know, I didn't know how, I didn't know, I swear," and they made it. They made it.

2023, 17:29, Yukon

"Ow, ow, fucking ow!"

He dropped the box and gave it a kick, and fuck, "Fuck, it better not be dishes in there."

Fraser picked the box up and stared at Ray's handwriting upside-down, frowned like he didn't get it, because of course he didn't, it was Ray's hand upside-down. "I don't believe so, Ray, if the weight and the sound are any indication."

He loaded the box into the back of the ancient pickup. If Ray was sentimental when he took it off Maggie's hands and rigged it up better than new, then it was a surprise to just about nobody.

"Good, good. I, uh, I really like Charlie's one."

Fraser hummed his agreement. "You know, she would make you another one if you asked."

"She's going to Vancouver, Frase."

"There are pottery wheels in Vancouver, Ray. In fact, Maggie said she had to argue with her for almost an hour about setting one up in the dormitory room."

Ray smiled and just knew he was gonna choke up, any second now. "Shit. Charlie's picking out prom dresses and we're—shit, Ben."

Fraser looked at him, and Ray was turned inside out not by the look itself, the same one Fraser had given him in the hallway at the ass-crack of dawn—seventeen, Jesus, years ago, the same one Fraser had given him many times before, if only Ray'd known how to—but it wasn't that, it was that they were both fucking retired and hauling their asses back into the great white only-two-of-us-here nowhere, and Fraser still had enough wonder in him, enough hesitance to look at Ray like he was an honest-to-god miracle.

Then he had the gall to look concerned. "We don't have to go, Ray. You like it here."

And, okay, that was it.

He picked the boxes up first, stacked the remaining ones neatly in the back. His back complained a little, which was okay, considering.

"C'mere," he said then, grabbed Fraser's hand impatiently and felt Fraser link their fingers together, easy as anything. Pulled some courage out of nowhere—which, hey, just how much longer would they have to do this courage thing?—and said, "Almost the highest bliss of human-kind, when to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee. Or, uh, however that goes."

Fraser's head snapped up, eyebrows quirking, mouth reaching for a grin, but kind of a wobbly one.

Ray shrugged and didn't look away. "So. You say that again to me and count the fucks I give."

Fraser took a few big, heaving breaths and reached for Ray's right hand, brought it up to his cheek, soft with the beard he'd been growing out for the past few weeks.

"Hey." Ray turned their linked fingers so Fraser could see. "Look."

Fraser stared at Ray's ring finger, which, by the way, still hurt like a bitch.

"That box caught on my damn wedding band."

Fraser's crow's feet gave him away before a smile broke over his face, a bright and hopeful thing. Ray kissed the corner of it, kissed his eyelids, and his jaw, and his temple, and thought of home.

[marley-manson]

getting to know mutuals!

tagged by @nimuetheseawitch, thank you!

what's the origin of your blog title?

Lyric from the song that my URL is also obliquely from, which had the right vibes for a blog about an obsession

otp(s) + shipname(s):

I'm not sure I understand the phrasing of this, why are otps and shipnames separate? But here's a list of some of my current favourite ships, like if I've sought out fic or thought about them much in the last few months:

hawktrap, hawnk, beejhawk, griffguts, Xena/Gabrielle, Dan/Herbert, Fraser/Ray V, Shauna/Melissa, wangxian, xuexiao, xiyao, and Cassie/Aftran because I did read a couple fics and chatted about them recently lol.

favourite colour:

Green!

song stuck in your head:

Drive by Melissa Ferrick lol, idk why, I just woke up with it in my head today

weirdest habit/trait:

Weirdness is in the eye of the beholder, I really don't know what's most weird about me lol. Probably the fact that I write and read fanfic honestly.

hobbies:

Writing, vidding, thinking too much about movies and tv, embroidery

if you work, what's your profession?

Taping, aka interior finishing, a stage of construction

if you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

Cashier but I make $50 an hour

something you're good at:

Analyzing gay subtext.

something you hate:

Mentally throwing a dart at a big list: sanding (as part of my job.) I used to not mind it, but ever since my sinuses started acting up the dust has become a trigger. I wear a mask ofc but even breathing in the little bit left in the air during breaks will fuck me up for a day or two.

something you collect:

Nothing really, I pretty much only buy useful things.

something you forget:

I feel like I generally have a pretty good memory, but forgetting past conversations probably bugs me the most. Like, did I mention this to you or someone else? Have I told this story before? Have I asked you this before? Was there something you mentioned last time we talked that I was going to follow up on and forgot? I try to be an active listener as much as I can but it's inevitable that some things fall through the cracks I guess.

what's your love language:

I'm not a fan of treating it as a psychologically valid sorting hat thing lol, but out of the options my fave is quality time. I like to go out and do things with people, it's a big reason idt I could be in a long distance relationship.

favourite movie/show:

Velvet Goldmine

favourite food:

Turkey dinner. Turkey, gravy, stuffing, mashed potatoes, various sides, etc. But only home cooked.

favourite animal:

Idk, maybe snakes.

what were you like as a child:

Stubborn, argumentative, confident, physical. I played with the boys at recess a lot for the first few years of elementary school, followed a kid I had a crush on around in kindergarten lol, got into arguments about things like girl colours vs boy colours eg, etc. I was awesome as a kid.

favourite subject at school:

English.

least favourite subject:

If we're talking grade school, high school biology. I thought I'd love it but then found myself preferring chemistry and physics, idk. If we're talking uni, fucking Latin and French, both of which I tried for the language requirement and failed >:(

what's your best character trait?

Honestly I like most things about myself, I feel like I have a healthy ego and that's a good character trait itself. But as for something I've had feedback on: according to multiple friends I'm chill and non-judgemental in a way that lets people relax and feel comfortable around me.

what's your worst character trait?

I'm too passive, and therefore bad at pursuing positive life changes and staying in touch with people.

if you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

Living in Vancouver instead of here.

if you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

No idea, this isn't something I've ever thought about or have any interest in lol, I'm not a history person or someone who wants to talk to famous people.

tagging: @beansterpie @majorbaby @bisexualdawnsummers @hetakiba @ducksoup1933 @pigtailedgirl @professormcguire @caddyxjellyby @shiveringsoldier @captainofthedefiant @the-cinnamontography-is-amazing @windmillcrusader @quordleona03 @coffee-rack @redcheekdays

and anyone else who wants to do it pls do and say I tagged you!

[pigtailedgirl]

Frannie, and/or Gift of the Wheelman

I didn't forget you @marley-manson I just wanted to do it justice.

Frannie is Heaven and Earth. That scene. 1) She's beautiful. 2) Ramona kills it with this moment, this one moment in the whole series they really took her seriously I think, and it's like Frannie comes alive in understanding her desperation and want not as the funny but as so human. Her chasing potentials and dreaming of great love. And how this ties into her relationship with Ray of big bro and little sis, family dynamics, backstories unsaid. It's cause they have it in common that they butt heads and worry over another and tease and fight.

And yeah, you know she's not right for Fraser. You don't want her with Fraser. I think you can argue she knows she doesn't go with him even. But god, in this moment, you sympathize. Suddenly she's 3D.

I love it.

Frannie: Hi. Where's the Mountie. 

Vecchio: Come here. We gotta talk. 

[Ray hauls her into an interrogation room. Fraser steps into the observation area and watches them] 

Vecchio: Stay away from him, okay? 

Francesca: Excuse me? 

Vecchio: Look, Frannie. You heard what I said. Just stay away from him, okay? 

Francesca: Ray. 

Vecchio: Frannie. You are in over your head. 

Francesca: Meaning? 

Vecchio: Meaning guys like him don't marry girls like you. That's fairy tale. And girls like you get hurt and guys like him don't even know it and that's life. 

Francesca: Oh yeah? You know this? 

Vecchio: Why do you do this? You always do this to yourself? 

Francesca: Yeah, I do. You know what your problem is, Ray? 

Vecchio: No, Frannie, why don't you tell me? 

Francesca: Yeah, I'll tell you. Your problem is that you are so afraid to dream. You are so afraid to reach out for something that you really want. You know what happens to people like you? They get old. They get alone. and they die. And they never know. Well, that's not me. 

Vecchio: Hey, hey, hey. Come here... Come here. Did you sleep with him? 

Francesca: Oh god. Why? Why? Would it matter to you if I did? 

Vecchio: Yes, it would. You're my sister... I care about you.