Title: March Snow
Author: Seana Renay.
Rating: Slash, PG-13.
Summary: Wherein Ray muses about the weather, how pretty he is and Fraser.
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money. Don't sue.
Feedback: Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.
Date: March 2001.
I can't get to sleep. It's not that late, not much past one, so at least I'm not totally resigned to thinking that I'm gonna be up all night. I'll probably sleep like a baby, soon as Fraser comes back to bed.
It started snowing earlier, sometime between us making out on the couch after dinner and us falling into bed and doing our thing. That time's always a little hazy, if you know what I mean. All I know's that when I was getting all snuggly with him afterwards, I looked up at the window, and it was snowing. Not hard or anything, roads are gonna be all right in the morning. Just flurrying a little, I guess. Pretty as all hell.
I told him so, and he made this really nice, sort of contented sound against my back. That's the time I like him best, I think, when he's all tired out and real agreeable. He's not like that a lot, and don't I know it, so I make the most of it when I can. Those are the times when I can really get into his head, you know? Maybe I'm taking advantage. But he lets me, so I'm not gonna start guilt tripping about it. I can't start that kind of stuff with Fraser, or I'll never be able to stop.
He's sitting by the window now, in a chair that I know isn't very comfortable, but he doesn't seem to mind. He has his boxers back on, but the sight of Fraser all pale and dreamy-looking in the moonlight is definitely good enough for me. He's watching the snow fall in the light from the lamp posts, I know he is. Probably getting a little homesick or something. I wish I could get him thinking that this is home. I wonder how long it's gonna take.
I don't tell him that it gets to me, you know, him missing Canada. I don't want to make him feel bad. But I figure he gets it, at least a little. I mean, you've got this guy telling you all this great stuff about how much he loves you and you're his whole world and everything, and even though you believe him, you know there's this little part of him you're never gonna get into, this part that wishes he was somewhere else, that thinks he belongs somewhere else. It's enough to make anybody a little insecure, and me, I've always had problems with that kind of stuff anyway.
Sure, the snow in the light is pretty and all, but I bet I could get him away from that window real quick if I tried. Just gotta give him something a little prettier to look at.
Hell. He's got me thinking like that. It kills me, it really does. Thinking that I'm prettier than anything, pretty at all in the first place. I always knew I wasn't much to look at, but you try being down on yourself all the time when you got this...this...
"What's that word, Fraser? That word, when someone talks real nice? Sounds like elegant."
His eyes don't leave the window, but he smiles a little bit. "Eloquent, Ray."
Eloquent, right. Shit, how did I know that word at all? Must have been on that stupid calendar. Contrary to what Stella would tell you, I did look at it every now and then.
Anyway, you try being down on yourself all the time when you got this eloquent Mountie telling you every hour on the hour that you're more beautiful than anything under the sun. Sure, it sounds like a joke, and you laugh, but after a while you gotta start believing him a little. I know Fraser's probably the last person on the planet to care about looks, but when he says something, he means it, so I know I'm beautiful to him at least. And that's fine by me.
Stella never said anything like that to me. She'd probably choke on laughter if she found out that anyone did, and especially if she found out that I liked it. The closest thing I ever got from her was like this little "hmmph" sound of not-total-disapproval, usually when she had me dressed up for some swanky shindig. I hated those things like a bitch. "Good evening, Mrs. So-and-So," and "Nice to see you again, Mr. So-and-So," and "I wonder if anyone would notice if I just stuck this dinner fork in my eye right now ..." Okay, I never said that, but I could have. Not like anyone ever paid attention to what I was actually saying. The most anyone ever considered me at all was to whisper, "Poor Stella," after we walked away, I'm sure. And I gotta say that now, for the most part, I agree with them. I love her, I'm always gonna have residual Stella in my heart somewhere, but I can see it all a little clearer now, and I see what everyone else saw, her parents, her parents' friends, and my buddies, who never understood how I could put up with a rich bitch. It was a bad match from the start, and I know it.
It scares me a little though, to tell you the truth, when I think about me and Fraser. I don't know a soul on the planet who thinks we're right for each other. Well, except for him and me, and that's at least one more vote than me and Stella had.
It hurts that he can't let me in all the way. Fraser comes off as real wide-eyed and innocent and trusting, and he is, you know, to a certain point, but the man has depths like you wouldn't believe. Crazy-scary depths. And I want figure them out, I want to figure him out. Like right now, for example, he's looking out the window and I've got no freaking idea what he's thinking. Could be pondering quantum physics, could be trying to remember what Diefenbaker had for dinner last night. I'm never gonna know. But I bet you ten to one that he knows exactly what's on my mind. I'm easy like that. What you see is what you get, and if you don't see it, just listen because odds are I'm telling you anyway.
I know Fraser loves the snow, and it's real nice to look at and everything when it's falling new like this, before it gets all gray and slushy, but I'm glad that spring is coming soon. It's been a long winter, and I'm sick of cold and damp and white and gray. I'm ready for some warmer colors. Some warmth, period. Fraser still gets uncomfortable when it gets too hot, but at least he's not all melancholy and he doesn't remind me of that damn Barbra Streisand song. Stella made me watch that movie; she had a thing for Robert Redford. I didn't see it. Still don't. But then, no one ever said Stella had good taste, huh? Fraser's isn't great either, but I gotta think that I'm an improvement over the psycho bitch. Mine's better than both of theirs.
Enough of this. It's a cycle I get in sometimes; depress myself with Stella, make myself feel better with Fraser. I'm not in the mood for that tennis match tonight, I tell you what. It's been a long day, and all I want to do is sleep with this guy that thinks I'm beautiful.
"The snow will be there in the morning. Come back over here and keep me warm."