hackthis_archive | dS

"Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for the truth." -Benjamin Disraeli

Dedicated to

nifra_idril.
Not dedicated to

lyra_sena. Not even a little bit. No. Okay, maybe a little bit.

due South
Epiphanies

Sick people shouldn't sit outside without a coat on -– Ray knows this.

He knows what with the chills and the sniffles and the pain in his chest that refuses to just go away, sitting out on the fire escape is about as stupid as it gets –- but he never claimed to be the shiniest car in the showroom.

The metal underneath his ass is really cold, and it's making him numb. Every time he sniffles, he can feel the snot in his nose.

It's really gross.

And only an idiot, or a freak, would be sitting on the fire escape outside if he had a cold, but Ray's not the most rational person when he's sick, and plus, being ill tends to turn him into an asshole -- he knows this.

He knows that when his sinuses are clogged, and he can't breath right through his nose, that he yells louder than normal; Stella used to tell him so all the time.

He knows that when his head hurts, and his throat's all scratchy like he swallowed a broken bottle, he tends to be more sarcastic than usual, which is saying a lot. He's not the most pleasant person to be around most of the time -- according to Frannie -– and being sick just makes him even more unpleasant than normal.

Again, according to Frannie.

But that's no excuse for being rude to Fraser. He knows that too. It's just that when Ray's miserable, he wants everybody to be miserable too –- or maybe it's got nothing to do with the sick thing at all.

He's been yelling a lot recently -– even when he's not sick –- and he's not sure why. It's not Fraser's fault that the GTO's fuel line is fucked or that Ezra Donetti got away. It's not Fraser's fault that the microwave is all fucked up either. Fraser doesn't even know how to use the microwave -– at least Ray doesn't think he does, and he could really use a tissue right now, but the back of his hand is just going to have to do.

Yeah, being sick is gross.

Snot is gross.

Yelling at Fraser isn't gross –- it's just wrong.

And Ray's been doing it a lot recently –- not because he's sick, well, maybe a little 'cause he's sick, but more because it's Fraser and he takes it, and Ray, Ray doesn't know what to do with people who just take shit from him.

Stella never did.

But she left –- and eventually Vecchio's gonna come back and take Fraser away, and it'd be so much easier if Ray didn't care at all.

But he does.

And that hacking cough just ain't helping Ray to think right at all.

His brain is sliding around in his skull, and the coughing is making him dizzy, and he jumps about a foot in the air when he feels a hand on his shoulder. "You shouldn't be out here without a coat, Ray, it's cold. You'll get sick."

Ray turns slightly to see Fraser with a blanket under his arm, but he can't talk real good while he's trying to hack up lung. "In case you hadn't noticed *cough* I'm already *cough* sick *cough*, Fraser."

He shudders when Fraser's hand moves from his shoulder to his forehead –- Fraser's hand isn't really that cold, but it feels good. It feels comforting –- which Ray doesn't think he deserves at this point, but he's sick, and he'll take it where he can get it.

He's really selfish when he's sick.

"Duly noted, Ray, but I don't think you want to make it worse," Fraser says pulling his hand away and draping the blanket from the sofa over Ray's shoulders.

"It's already worse, Fraser, trust me."

Ray busies himself with pulling the blanket around his shoulders, not looking back at Fraser and not focusing on what he's said. He knows what he said –- and he knows that Fraser knows what he said –- and he knows that Fraser knows that he knows –- and he thought his head hurt *before*.

It would be greatness if Fraser would just go away -– but that wouldn't be Fraser, and Ray sighs loudly when Fraser's feet plant themselves on either side of his hips, and the step behind him creaks under Fraser's weight.

It would be real nice to just lean back and let Fraser hold him and comfort him and make him feel better -– but he doesn't deserve it. He's an asshole -– a sick asshole –- who yells at his partner when the microwave doesn't work because he's hungry, except he's not -- and everything about him aches -– and the bed is too big alone -– and Ray's just waiting for Fraser to leave him –- because everybody always leaves.

There's no over-the-counter remedy for that.

Ray's hands are dry and rough when he runs them over the three-day old stubble on his face, and the blanket helps a little with the cold, but it's not enough. It'll never be enough, and Ray tenses up when Fraser's hands pull him back slightly.

It would be so easy to fight this like he fights everything else –- like he fights Fraser and them and being together –- but he's tired. And he's sick, and it's warm where Fraser is.

Fraser's voice is soft in Ray's ear, but it rings in his brain like an announcement over a PA. "It's never as bad as you think it is," he says.

"Yeah, is it, Fraser. Yeah, it is. Do you they teach you all that fake happy stuff in Mountie school or something? If I was you, I'd tell'em I want a refund."

"Ray." Fraser's using that tone -– the 'let's humor the scrawny, divorced flatfoot Yankee' tone.

Ray hates that tone.

"You don't gotta humor me," Ray snaps without turning around. His words are white puffs of air that slip from his diseased mouth. "My name ain't Vecchio. You don't gotta pretend –- you don't have to pretend with me."

"Is that what you think I'm doing, Ray, pretending?" Fraser's voice is sharp in Ray's ear, like he's angry or something, and Ray's just turning his head to look for himself, when there are fingers in his hair and a sharp tug yanks his head back until he bangs his head against Fraser's thigh.

Even through all the cold drugs, Ray can feel the tendons in his neck protesting this angle, and it's strange looking at Fraser upside down -– but upside down, right-side up, inside out, Ray would know that pissy look anywhere. Especially when it's so close to his face.

Ray's never kissed anybody upside down, and he's not sure if he gets dizzy from the meds or the angle or the fever or the way that Fraser's mouth is stealing all the air in his lungs, but he shuts his eyes and hangs on the best he can considering the death grip Fraser has on his hair.

Fraser's tongue is hot and wet, and Ray's already got the hot thing covered with his fever, but he'll worry about that later.

Everything -- he can think about everything later.

The world is completely upside down when Fraser pulls away, and Ray finds himself gasping for air as he opens his eyes in a place where the sky is the ground and Fraser is the world. "Would you call that pretending, Ray?"

"Uh, no," is about all Ray's got. He licks his lips under Fraser's appraising stare.

"So there's not going to be any more of this delusional shouting at the microwave or accusing me of using you for your electrical appliances, is there?"

It's hard for Ray to shake his head at this angle. "No. Nope. No, siree."

"And you'll stay in bed and let me look after you?"

"I dunno, Fraser, I mean I'm a pretty bad patient, you have to admit. Maybe it would be better if you just --"

Fraser looks almost sad from this weird upside down angle, and when his hold on Ray's hair finally loosens, Ray rolls his shoulders and his neck as he sits up. "I've told you I'm not leaving you, Ray, when are you going to accept that?"

"When I'm better?" Ray asks rubbing the inseam of Fraser's jeans with his thumb and cracking a small smile.

Fraser frowns. "Then hurry up and get better -– you're insufferable when you're sick."

Ray smirks. "So I've heard."

-end-

Read-through-while-medicated by

serialkarma. Feel better soon, chicken!

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nifra_idril feels the Friday Night Lights love too! Don/Mike. It's Nifra, fools, read it!