Hot Tub
by lamardeuse
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Warnings (highlight to view): explicit sex
due South Flashfiction challenge: water
Fraser came back to himself in stages. He was not immediately aware of his own consciousness, or the details of his surroundings; instead, he recognized the slow, loping progress of his blood through his veins, and the screaming protests of the nerve endings in his skin as they were drowned in fire.
Hurts hurts hurts, they chanted, in time with his pulse.
"C'mon, c'mon...goddammit..."
The soft, urgent voice dimly registered at the edges of Fraser's hearing. Had he been more alert, the quietly agitated tone would have triggered the release of adrenaline and shifted his mind and his everpresent sense of duty into full gear.
As it was, he made an effort to strain toward the voice, to pull himself free of the weights which seemed to hold him trapped, but even he could tell the attempt was ineffectual and weak.
Suddenly, sensation ripped through his upper arm, pain and vibration and pressure, and he jerked violently. The voice was back, this time contrite and soothing.
"Sorry, sorry, I know it hurts, but they told--they told me to..." The voice broke off suddenly on an indrawn breath. "Shit, Fraser, please, just--"
Inside his head, neurons fired in automatic response to that desperate whisper.
Ray. Ray. Ray.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Okay, the trick was to stay calm. No time to freak out now, not now that he'd come through who knew how many miles of blizzard with not so much as a twitch.
The trick was to stay calm, and not to give in to wanting to scream and cry and hit him for not fucking saying that bits of him were slowly turning into Popsicles, for putting up the Brave Mountie Front and being all self-sacrificing. If one of the dogs hadn't keeled over when it did, causing the big pile-up that toppled Ray out of the sled, he might never have found out, and they'd have gotten to Norman Wells with Fraser frozen in place, standing on guard for thee right behind him.
Ray was damned grateful to that dead dog.
Now was not the time to freak out, not now that they were finally safe, in a warm cabin, four solid walls and a roof separating them from the howling wind and driving snow. By the time they reached the first building, Ray hadn't been too clear himself on the chain of events. He remembered people pouring out to help him, drag them inside, sled and all; he could only imagine how stupid they must've looked, two nearly-frozen white guys and a few worn-out dogs. He didn't even know what had happened to Dief and the others, which he supposed made him a heel considering they'd saved his and Fraser's life, but at the moment his only concern had been Fraser.
Was still Fraser. Who was finally starting to look some colours other than blue and stark white, though angry red and hot pink wasn't much of an improvement.
Rubbing on his arm had been a really dumb idea; the doctor they radioed had told him to do that, but only when he was sure the pain had abated. Ray'd only succeeded in hurting him more, and that tore at him, fed the storm of emotion whirling around inside him.
It was all his fault. This never would've happened if Fraser hadn't had him along as dead weight--
He shook himself angrily. Fuck the pity trip. Focus. Focus on him.
"Okay, buddy, I'm just gonna pour a little water over your arms this time." Ray picked up the tin cup where it lay beside the tub and dipped it. "Let me know if it hurts." He trickled the water slowly over Fraser's bare shoulder, and Ray watched for a reaction.
Nothing.
Trying not to think about whether or not this was a good thing, Ray repeated the action, this time on Fraser's other shoulder. The water ran down his upper arm into the tub, and Ray kept going, dousing neck, collarbone, shoulders, the only parts of him not immersed in the hot water.
Still nothing.
Fraser had to be at least partially conscious, because he was holding himself upright in the tub. Once they'd got him stripped and submerged, the Mountie at the post had offered to stay with Ray and Fraser, helping a fellow officer, etcetera, but Ray had gotten rid of him somehow. He couldn't remember how he'd managed it, but he suspected it involved a large amount of snapping and snarling.
It was his job to cover Fraser's back. His and no one else's.
Even though he hadn't done such a great job of it so far.
The water he was scooping up was starting to get tepid; he'd have to drain a couple of inches from the tub and add some more hot.
Hell. Would there be any hot water left in that tank? There was a big kettle heating on the stove in the other room, but he didn't want to leave Fraser alone...
"Frase, Fraser, you still with me, buddy? Give me a sign, willya? Let me know you're thawing out, 'cause you're starting to scare me." He was babbling, he knew he was babbling, but he didn't care. His own skin felt prickly and painful, like he wanted to shed it, leave it behind for a newer wrapping.
"Please," Ray whispered.
Fraser's eyes snapped open.
Ray sucked in a breath as the pupils dilated, then focused. Fraser's pinkening lips parted and his eyes swiveled, trying to take in everything, catalogue it, understand it.
Ray wanted to dance around the bathroom.
"Ray," Fraser said, his voice as scratchy as an old 78.
"I'm here," he answered, voice not much better. "And so are you."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It was all his fault.
"No, it isn't." Ray's voice was impatient, strained.
"Yes, it was," Fraser insisted. "I should have anticipated the severity of the storm--"
"Nobody anticipated the severity of the storm!" Ray exploded, knees cracking as he pushed to his feet. "The other Mountie guy said it was a freak thing, totally unpredictable."
"Still, I--"
"Goddammit, will you please stop arguing?" growled Ray, his tone low and dangerous. "I am not going to argue with you now. You nearly became a human Tater Tot, all right? And now you're alive, you're gonna be okay, and I am just so fucking--" Ray cut himself off abruptly . "I think the kettle's ready again," he said, turning abruptly on his heel and leaving the room.
Fraser frowned, shifting in the tub. He could flex his fingers without pain now, but they were still hypersensitive to the slightest motion of the water. And they were rapidly becoming waterlogged. Experimentally, he gripped the edges of the claw-foot tub and tried pushing up--
"What the hell are you doing? You shouldn't be getting out yet!"
He looked up at Ray, who was standing there with the kettle clutched in one hand, the other clenched at his side, the fingers white and trembling--
Fraser's gaze raked over the other man's form appraisingly, and cursed his muddled brain for not noticing it sooner.
"Ray."
"What?"
Fraser attempted a reasonable tone. "Thanks to your care, I'm past any danger from frostbite. However, I believe you're suffering from chills yourself, and you're risking a host of--"
"English, Fraser," Ray spat, moving forward to pour the hot water carefully into the tub.
"You need this tub more than I do right now."
Ray shook his head vehemently as he stirred the water with his left hand. "No. Uh-uh. Doc said to keep you here until I was sure you were okay. And I am still not sure."
"Ray. I know my body."
Ray's eyes were fixed on the edge of the tub. "Whatever, Frase. You're not leaving this tub until I say."
Fraser took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Then get in with me."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This was a really dumb idea.
Crazy as it sounded, he hadn't thought of Fraser as naked until this moment. Ray and the other Mountie had stripped him out of necessity; it was like a doctor-patient thing, no emotion in it, no, Hey, those are damned fine pecs-type wisecracks. It had been serious, deadly serious.
But now that Ray was peeling off his longjohns, and Fraser was sitting there, eyes contemplating his pink toes as they wiggled under the water...
Ray thought about digging his briefs out of his knapsack, but that would make it weirder, since there hadn't been time to make Fraser presentable, and it would make it seem like Ray was uncomfortable with--well, he was, but no point in making it obvious.
He wrestled his arms out of the longjohns, and they slid down his body, bunching around his knees. As he bent to free himself, a flood of memories washed over him, as if his life was flashing before his eyes. Only it was a specific part of his life, edited for your viewing pleasure. And all the scenes featured the guy in front of him.
This was not the time to think about the fact he didn't want to face life without Fraser. He'd already done enough thinking on that score in the last twenty-four hours.
Ray stepped out of the puddle of his long underwear and tried to control his shuddering. "Where you want me?" he asked.
That was a really dumb question.
Fraser's eyes flicked upwards to Ray's face, then darted back to the tub. "Ah--" eyebrow rub, the first one he'd seen in a while "--in front, perhaps?"
Great. Right up close and personal with Fraser's dick. But at least that meant his own wouldn't be plastered up against Fraser's--
Okay. Let's not think about his ass right this second.
He lifted one leg over the edge of the tub and winced as his foot hit water that felt this close to boiling. Obviously, his body was a lot colder than he'd wanted to acknowledge; his priority had been thawing out Fraser, not himself. Fraser scooted back, making room, and spread his legs wider.
Jesus.
It took him a couple of minutes to get settled, because the water felt like liquid fire on his skin. He shuddered at the thought that Fraser had gone through this, only ten times worse.
Suddenly Ray felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"
"Mm?" Ray murmured, distracted by the unexpected touch. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You're shivering so hard I can hear your teeth rattling."
Ray clenched his jaw. "Mfine."
The hand curled around his shoulder, pulling at him.
"Wh--"
"Lean back." Fraser's husky tone shot the fire straight into his bones. "You're not deep enough."
"I'm as deep as I wanna go," Ray answered, screwing his eyes shut, putting all his energy into ignoring those long legs brushing against his hips, his thighs.
Ray heard a sigh, and then Fraser was leaning sideways. A hand appeared in front of him, holding the tin cup. Ray tried to snatch it from him.
"I can do it."
"Ray." A pause, a deep breath. "Let me do this."
"Stop feeling guilty," Ray growled.
The hand hovered over the water. "I swore to myself that I wouldn't let anything happen to you."
"Nothing did," Ray said quietly, knowing it was a lie. Something happened, all right. Something that would break Ray into a thousand pieces when he finally left this place, left Fraser behind.
"I'm--sorry."
"You got nothing to be sorry about, except--" He cut himself off, ashamed at what he'd been about to say.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Please, Ray."
"Except--not letting me--" He searched for words, but could only think of one. "Share."
Ray listened to the sound of Fraser breathing behind him, could practically hear the gears turning inside his brain. Finally, the other man cleared his throat. "You see, the trouble is that even after all this time, I have no idea why you would want to do that."
Adrenaline surged through Ray's body, instinctively, the words tripping his fight response into overdrive. Only there was no one here to fight, just the ghosts of Fraser's past, murdered mum, useless dad, distant grandparents, lovers who hadn't loved him enough. Nobody but ghosts.
And the two of them.
Without any real idea of what he was about to say or do, he yanked the cup from Fraser's hand and threw it on the floor. Fraser jerked at the metallic clatter, and then Ray was twisting around, until he was on his knees in the tub, his face inches from Fraser's wide-eyed, startled one.
"You got no idea?" Ray demanded. "You sure about that?"
Fraser shook his head, but it wasn't a "no" shake, it was an "I can't believe this" shake. He looked stunned. Fine. Ray had nothing left to lose anyway, sitting here naked and wet and shivering at the edge of the world, waiting for the day when he'd get on that goddamned plane and his life would end.
So be it.
He took Fraser's stubbled face between his palms and kissed him, long and hard and deep, suddenly determined that the only way to go out was with a bang. None of this frozen-popsicle shit for him; it was top o' the world, ma, get up on top of the damned oil rig and light the fire.
And after a minute or an hour, he realized that he was feeling a lot warmer, because Fraser's arms were around his shoulders, and then he was being pulled up against a hot, wet chest. Ray's hands left Fraser's face, one moving to cup the back of his head, the other splaying over his strongly beating heart.
Alive. Alive. Alive.
"God, Ray," Fraser gasped against his mouth.
Ray pulled back, inspecting Fraser's swollen lips, parted as he gulped in lungfuls of air; his eyes, glazed with want and need. He dared a glance downward, and saw Fraser hard and straining.
Ray's hand trailed from Fraser's heart to his cock, wrapping around it in a possessive, hungry grip. Fraser groaned and arched into the pressure. After only a few tight, perfect strokes, Ray paused, watching that beautiful face crumple in ecstatic agony as he circled his thumb over the reddened tip. Then he pulled him close while Fraser bucked and shuddered against him, whispering Ray's name over and over as he came.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Ray?"
"Mm." The warm, hair-roughened body shifted against his back as they lay together in the narrow bed near the stove. The hand over his heart pressed closer, as though it were trying to find its way inside.
"Don't leave. Don't ever leave."
Ray's chuckle startled him. "Couldn't if I tried," he murmured sleepily. "But I don't wanna try. So be it."
Fraser smiled into the pillow.
"Top o' the world, ma," Ray whispered.
End
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December 2003