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DS Story, Emergency Contact 3
Apr. 10th, 2024 11:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grey853Title: Emergency Contact 3
Author: Grey/Grey853
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Six weeks after Ray's rescue, he and Fraser are still under threat. They move to Whitehorse, Canada and find that it's no safer there, not yet.
Warnings: Male Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 60,090
AO3 Link:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/55106899
Snippet:
″What time is my appointment with Ezra?″
″It’s at one, but we should leave by noon. There’s a considerable amount of traffic this time of day.″ Ray glanced over to see Fraser looking all hot and tasty in the bedroom doorway. He was buttoning up his freshly pressed flannel shirt over his Henley. It was the blue and gray plaid number that Ray liked so much. Ray enjoyed ripping it off even better than watching his partner put it back on. It was a good thing Fraser was so handy with a needle and replacing flyaway buttons.
Ray teased his partner. ″Jeez, Fraser. Who the hell irons a flannel shirt?″
Fraser’s blue eyes flashed with amusement at the familiar dig about his persistent need for neatness. ″I do, obviously. I’ve found that the dryer downstairs doesn’t take out the wrinkles to my satisfaction despite its promise to do so.″
Ray dropped the stack of letters he’d just collected on the table and walked across the room. Using his good right arm, he hugged Fraser around his waist and drew his partner closer. ″Can’t have that.″
″No, we can’t.″
″Might get a Mountie demerit or something.″ Ray kissed him, pushed his tongue inside the hot interior of his mouth. He tasted the earthy tea Fraser drank earlier, felt the uneven lower teeth and took his time exploring before he pulled back. ″I love you. Iron like crazy if that makes you happy.″
Fraser chuckled and then returned a quick kiss on the lips before he answered, ″Thank you kindly.″ Then he pulled away and stepped over to the table. ″Did we get anything interesting in the mail?″
″Don’t know yet.″ Ray adjusted the black sling and strap securing his left arm in place against his chest. The thing tended to make his neck sore if he didn’t get it situated just right. ″Didn’t get a chance to see.″ Ray didn’t mention that it was hard to sort mail one-handed. It was just easier to bring it back upstairs and go through it while sitting at the table.
Fraser flipped through the pile and then suddenly stopped. He frowned and held a letter out toward Ray. ″It’s from your father.″
Stunned didn’t quite cover it. Ray couldn’t remember his dad ever sending even a card much less writing a letter. ″You sure?″
″The postmark is from Arizona, but it’s not your mother’s handwriting.″
Ray stepped closer, but didn’t take the letter. ″You open it.″
″It’s your letter, Ray.″
″Why didn’t he just call? Why write a letter?″
Still holding the envelop out to Ray, Fraser hesitated before he asked, ″Would you like me to open it for you?″
Unsure and a bit anxious, Ray thought about it, but then snatched the letter before he lost his nerve. It was just a fucking letter for godsakes. ″Thanks, but I’ll do it. How bad could it be?″
″Perhaps he’s just wishing you a full recovery.″
Like that would ever happen, but Ray would let Fraser go on thinking the best about his dad for as long as possible. No reason to pop the good thoughts bubble just yet.
″Yeah, maybe.″
Ray delayed telling his parents about his injury. His left arm was broken and his shoulder severely dislocated when he’d been held captive and tortured by some maniac named Larssen. Ray hadn’t given them the gory details, only that he’d been hurt badly enough that he was taking an early retirement from the force. He also hadn’t told them about his move to Canada to be with Fraser. He figured one shock at a time was enough.
Opening a letter one-handed was a pain, but Ray finally managed. He dropped the crumbled envelop back on the table and awkwardly unfolded the handwritten page. As he read his father’s words, Ray’s face heated with anger. ″Son of a bitch.″
″What is it?″
Instead of explaining, Ray held it out. ″Read it yourself.″
Author: Grey/Grey853
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Six weeks after Ray's rescue, he and Fraser are still under threat. They move to Whitehorse, Canada and find that it's no safer there, not yet.
Warnings: Male Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 60,090
AO3 Link:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/55106899
Snippet:
″What time is my appointment with Ezra?″
″It’s at one, but we should leave by noon. There’s a considerable amount of traffic this time of day.″ Ray glanced over to see Fraser looking all hot and tasty in the bedroom doorway. He was buttoning up his freshly pressed flannel shirt over his Henley. It was the blue and gray plaid number that Ray liked so much. Ray enjoyed ripping it off even better than watching his partner put it back on. It was a good thing Fraser was so handy with a needle and replacing flyaway buttons.
Ray teased his partner. ″Jeez, Fraser. Who the hell irons a flannel shirt?″
Fraser’s blue eyes flashed with amusement at the familiar dig about his persistent need for neatness. ″I do, obviously. I’ve found that the dryer downstairs doesn’t take out the wrinkles to my satisfaction despite its promise to do so.″
Ray dropped the stack of letters he’d just collected on the table and walked across the room. Using his good right arm, he hugged Fraser around his waist and drew his partner closer. ″Can’t have that.″
″No, we can’t.″
″Might get a Mountie demerit or something.″ Ray kissed him, pushed his tongue inside the hot interior of his mouth. He tasted the earthy tea Fraser drank earlier, felt the uneven lower teeth and took his time exploring before he pulled back. ″I love you. Iron like crazy if that makes you happy.″
Fraser chuckled and then returned a quick kiss on the lips before he answered, ″Thank you kindly.″ Then he pulled away and stepped over to the table. ″Did we get anything interesting in the mail?″
″Don’t know yet.″ Ray adjusted the black sling and strap securing his left arm in place against his chest. The thing tended to make his neck sore if he didn’t get it situated just right. ″Didn’t get a chance to see.″ Ray didn’t mention that it was hard to sort mail one-handed. It was just easier to bring it back upstairs and go through it while sitting at the table.
Fraser flipped through the pile and then suddenly stopped. He frowned and held a letter out toward Ray. ″It’s from your father.″
Stunned didn’t quite cover it. Ray couldn’t remember his dad ever sending even a card much less writing a letter. ″You sure?″
″The postmark is from Arizona, but it’s not your mother’s handwriting.″
Ray stepped closer, but didn’t take the letter. ″You open it.″
″It’s your letter, Ray.″
″Why didn’t he just call? Why write a letter?″
Still holding the envelop out to Ray, Fraser hesitated before he asked, ″Would you like me to open it for you?″
Unsure and a bit anxious, Ray thought about it, but then snatched the letter before he lost his nerve. It was just a fucking letter for godsakes. ″Thanks, but I’ll do it. How bad could it be?″
″Perhaps he’s just wishing you a full recovery.″
Like that would ever happen, but Ray would let Fraser go on thinking the best about his dad for as long as possible. No reason to pop the good thoughts bubble just yet.
″Yeah, maybe.″
Ray delayed telling his parents about his injury. His left arm was broken and his shoulder severely dislocated when he’d been held captive and tortured by some maniac named Larssen. Ray hadn’t given them the gory details, only that he’d been hurt badly enough that he was taking an early retirement from the force. He also hadn’t told them about his move to Canada to be with Fraser. He figured one shock at a time was enough.
Opening a letter one-handed was a pain, but Ray finally managed. He dropped the crumbled envelop back on the table and awkwardly unfolded the handwritten page. As he read his father’s words, Ray’s face heated with anger. ″Son of a bitch.″
″What is it?″
Instead of explaining, Ray held it out. ″Read it yourself.″
