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ds_team_romance2007-09-20 12:21 am
slidellra.livejournal.com) wrote in ds_team_romance2007-09-20 12:21 am
If a tree grows in this post, how many hearts will be carved in its bark?
The prompts will be available on Monday, so we have a nice little handful of days left to play around and get ourselves in fighting/loving trim. How's about we start off with one of those drabble trees, eh?
1. I'll kick it off with a little bit o' writing.
2. You guys can reply to that with your own little bit o' writing that plays with something from the first (a line, a phrase, a scene, mood).
3. The next drabblers can reply to any of the above comments, and so on. Until we have a lovely, sturdy, romantic tree, with many ficcish branches all growing out of the first comment.
Have fun! Despite the name, for this drabble tree any length goes. Comment two, four, as many times as you like. Feel the romance, baby.
1. I'll kick it off with a little bit o' writing.
2. You guys can reply to that with your own little bit o' writing that plays with something from the first (a line, a phrase, a scene, mood).
3. The next drabblers can reply to any of the above comments, and so on. Until we have a lovely, sturdy, romantic tree, with many ficcish branches all growing out of the first comment.
Have fun! Despite the name, for this drabble tree any length goes. Comment two, four, as many times as you like. Feel the romance, baby.
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But he wasn't turned on by himself. He was turned on by Vecchio, by Vecchio's sunny grin, by the way he rasped out Ray's name during sex, by the way he sleepily smashed his face into the pillow in the morning. He was turned on by the way Vecchio studies his jackets in the morning, picking the best one out then shaking his head and swapping it for another. He was turned on by Vecchio's bitching when chasing a suspect led them through a dumpster or a snowback or -- once, memorably -- a pig wallow. He was turned on my Vecchio's attention to detail and his brilliant leaps of logic, by Vecchio's protective love for his family and the way he held each of Frannie's babies like they were the most precious thing in the world, by his tangible sensual delight as he devoured a well-made meal. He was, most of all, turned on by the way Vecchio held him, touched him, moved him him, tasted him, knew him, turned him inside out and put him back together again, leaving them both worn out and gasping, leaving Vecchio fucking glowing in the post-coital haze.
And if that meant Ray had to learn to be turned on by his own body, now that Vecchio was in it and he was in Vecchio's? Well, he could do that.
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But the thing Ray realized--and it was on stakeout when he finally caught on, after Vecchio bitched about Ray's BBQ-flavor potato chip dinner before stealing the bag and tilting it up and pouring the crumbs down his throat--the thing was, Vecchio liked Ray's car and his hair and his attitude, was comfortable with them, with him.
Vecchio would lean against the passenger door while Ray yelled at him or ignored him or went over the case with him, and Vecchio's mouth would say bag lady and what are you, twelve? but his eyes, his body, and the way he forgot to check over his shoulder all said different stuff, warm stuff, right-there-with-him stuff.
Lucky for both of them, too, because when Vecchio caught Ray looking at his throat as he swallowed, at the salt and dark orange on his upper lip, things could have gotten things real ugly, real fast if Ray'd just listened to the words coming out of Vecchio's mouth.
He knew better, though, and so he leaned back against his own car door, insulting Vecchio right back, and let his eyes and body say different.
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With Ray, Fraser's body does the very opposite. He finds himself leaning in for no discernible reason, hovering too close, being too quick to welcome a helping hand on his elbow, an encouraging pat on his shoulder, an emphatic poke to his chest. He leans into each of Ray's gestures, as much a punch as a pat, as if all his fight-or-flight were used up by Frannie, leaving him stripped and defenseless and far, far too obvious. Ray is an observant man, is a detective, for God's sake. He is certain to notice eventually the clear and constant signal Fraser is broadcasting his way, and when he does...
"Frase?" Ray is looking at him oddly, his wide blue eyes concerned.
Fraser's body betrays him yet again with a blush. He looks down, away from Ray's too-observant eyes, but he finds his gaze suddenly caught by the hollow of Ray's throat peeking out from his shirt, the skin delicate and golden. Fraser swallows, an entirely unvoluntary gesture.
But Ray just tilts his head to favor Fraser with a long, reading look, then leans into Fraser with that gracefully expressive body.
And starts talking.
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Eeeee! I love that. :)
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"Leave Fraser alone," she kept saying. "He's Canadian. He doesn't get you."
Ray was pretty sure she was wrong about that. He really hoped she was wrong about that. Because if Benny didn't get him then the sky wasn't blue and the sun set in the east and Fraser would've said something if the world had turned upside down.
So. Fraser got him and Ray got Fraser. But Benny was too damn polite to explore what that meant and Ray? Ray was too chicken. Too worried about Ma and the guys at the precinct and the vague irritation of a god he didn't really believe in.
That left him where? On Benny's excuse for a couch, his mouth flapping open and closed like some stunned goldfish. If you can't say something nice then don't say anything at all.
Eureka! Ray smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand but before Benny could respond Ray grabbed his shoulder and drew him in, two pairs of warm lips coming together in sweet collision. He felt Fraser's eager response and smiled into his mouth.
If you can't say something nice ...
Part I (I fail at snippets)
Ray leaned over, hands on his knees, let his head hang between his shoulders and tried to breathe. Only they weren't his hands, weren't his knees, and somewhere over to his left, where he definitely was not looking, he could hear Kowalski pacing, and that was fucking weird enough, hearing Kowalski's twitchy movements marked by Ray's own shoes, Ray's own feet. This was not right. He'd worked with Fraser for years and he'd seen compulsive liars and pissy Christmas elves and his own father's ghost, and Kowalski had told him about that funky voodoo thing, but this... he'd never seen anything like this.
"Fraser, you ever seen anything like this before?" Kowalski asked, only it was in Ray's voice, and God, if Ray didn't stop thinking about this, he was going to go insane.
"No, Ray," Fraser answered, sounding sort of calmly concerned, like this was any other problem he was going to solve with Inuit stories and sheer Mountie stubbornness. Which Ray normally kind of wanted to kick him for, because nothing fazed Fraser--not even, apparently, his partners somehow ending up in each other's bodies and not in the good way--but somebody had to be calm, Ray guessed, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be him or Kowalski, so.
"This is not good," Kowalski was saying, "this is not good. I mean, what the fuck? How the fuck does this happen?"
"Ray, please. I know how upsetting this must be for you, but I'm sure there's a solution somewhere, and we will find it. And in the meantime, just--"
"Just what? Calm down? Fraser, I am not in my own fucking body, and I would say that on the list of situations in which it is physically possible to calm down, that has got to be pretty fucking low!" The last word was punctuated by a thud as his fist hit the wall.
"Hey!" Ray's head snapped up. "That's my knuckles you're putting through the drywall, asshole."
"Sorry," Kowalski muttered, massaging his hand in a mix of post-punching-ache and caress, and Ray almost started laughing hysterically. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. This was going to drive him nuts, he knew it.
Fraser's hand came down on the back of his neck, thumb rubbing gently just underneath his ear, just like they both knew Kowalski liked. Ray could feel his muscles relaxing a little, and that was more strangeness, more dislocation, until Fraser said, "Ray," and he said it like he always said it, completely different than how he said Kowalski's name, and Ray took a deep breath and held on.
"I'm OK, Benny. I'm OK. It's just--" I can't not be me, can't look in the mirror and see someone else...
"I know," Fraser said, and it was the kind of bullshit line people gave when they didn't know what else to say, but this was Fraser, and he never missed anything except when it came to himself, so Ray believed him. Fraser knelt down in front of him, tipped Ray's face up and kissed him. Slow, deliberate, his hands cupping Ray's jaw just like Ray liked. Ray locked both his hands around Fraser's wrists and kissed him back, feeling the jittering panic in his stomach gradually soothe and settle for the first time in hours.
He broke the kiss when Kowalski made a sound, looked up to see him leaning against the wall with a kind of hesitant want on his face. Ray's face, actually, and his stomach jumped again, but he felt Fraser's hands solid on him and he managed a grin somehow. "See something you like, Kowalski?"
Re: Part II (I fail at snippets)
"C'mere," Ray told him, holding out his own hand.
Kowalski did grin at that, a half-shy, ducked-head grin that was pure Kowalski even on Ray's face, and he came a few steps closer so he could kneel in front of Fraser. Fraser smiled at him, put one hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in to kiss him, too, while Ray watched. It was like seeing himself somehow superimposed over Kowalski, seeing both Kowalski and Fraser kissing and himself and Fraser kissing, all at once, Kowalski's hunger and Fraser's eager response, Fraser's thumb gliding slowly over Ray's neck. Ray found himself leaning closer without realizing it. Weird was definitely an understatement, and maybe he shouldn't be getting turned on by this, but then again, if he didn't get turned on by weird, he never would've been with either of these guys in the first place, so he figured maybe it was par for the course.
When Fraser and Kowalski pulled apart, Kowalski's eyes were wide, his mouth wet, and he was breathing hard. Fraser nudged him a little, turning him the slightest bit toward Ray.
"Hey," Kowalski said, looking up at Ray, mouth quirking again, "whaddaya say, Vecchio?" He winked. "I never pass up the opportunity to kiss a good-looking guy."
Ray rolled his eyes, but he laughed, and this was insane and they'd probably all be in years of therapy because of it, but right now, he was going to go with the flow. "Nice to know you're still a smartass, no matter whose face you're wearing."
"Funny," Kowalski said, "smartass seems to fit pretty well in here. Must already know the territory."
Fraser smiled at both of them, slid one hand onto Ray's knee and one hand on Kowalski's shoulder. Linking them. Grounding them. Just like he always had. Kowalski was still smiling, too, nervous but willing, and he knew what it was like to be Ray and then come back again, so all of a sudden Ray just figured, what the hell. He knew who he was, mostly, and the parts he couldn't figure out, well, that was why he had Fraser and Kowalski, right? To help him find his way back.
"OK," Ray said, "but if masturbation is a sin, I don't even want to think about how many Hail Marys I'm gonna have to say for this," and Kowalski laughed as Ray leaned forward and kissed him.
Re: Part II (I fail at snippets)
*flails incoherently*
Yeah, that was okay. ♥
Re: Part II (I fail at snippets)
*ADOOOOOOOOORES*
OMG, you wrote FKV bodyswap! I LOVE YOUUUU!
Re: Part II (I fail at snippets)
Eh heh heh! Yay for kink!
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or -- once, memorably -- a pig wallow.
*snorts*