Work Text:
Ray Vecchio gripped the wheel with quiet determination. Benton Fraser watched the scenery roll past as the Buick Riviera sped down the highway and into the night. They had somehow made it through Orlando without saying more than a couple of words to each other.
The car never used to be silent, in the old days. Fraser wanted to turn back to Ray, to see the unique shape of his hands, his long fingers with their protruding knuckles, the unmistakable profile and forehead; to simply enjoy the simple fact of his presence. This was what he'd wanted, after all, and for so long.
But Ray needed this space, and Fraser was willing to wait.
*
They pulled the car over at a roadside motel around 2 pm. "Jesus," said Ray, breaking the long silence, his face washed in the pulsating light of the pink and yellow flamingo sign. "It's as if Norman Bates went into business with a brothel and decided to downgrade the services."
The motel was a run-down, multi-storied, greasy-looking thing, but it would have to do. They had a long stretch of road ahead on the following day, and there were no guarantees they'd find another motel soon, or that it wouldn't be worse still. "I'll book a room," Fraser said, and got out of the car, leaving Ray to navigate the parking lot for a free square.
Fifteen minutes later Fraser dropped the keys on the nightstand in a room with yellow wallpaper and blue curtains, in the middle of which stood a single pink-covered bed. A sign declared it would vibrate with the insertion of a five dollar bill. Ray followed him in in his shirtsleeves, his coat under his arm. It was 2 am, but the heat had barely let up. Ray switched on the ceiling fan, only to find it didn't work.
"Jesus fucking Christ, what a piece of shit," Ray swore, pressing his fists to his temples. "What the hell have you got me into this time, Fraser?"
"It's only one night," Fraser said.
"Yeah, and then what?" Ray's shoulders were tense, his body rigid. Fraser could see the tightening of his jaw, the near breaking in his voice, which, more than anything, revealed the pressure that was pushing at him, the terror under his skin.
Fraser took a step forward and opened his arms. "No, Benny," Ray said, turning away and into himself. Fraser let his arms drop.
Ray paced the room. Fraser sat down on the bed, took off his hat and laid it carefully on the nightstand.
"I can't believe I left Stella like that," Ray murmured.
"She had already moved out, Ray. That was her choice."
"I should've stuck with her. I should've made it work. I really loved her, Benny."
"I should have stuck with you," Fraser said quietly.
"No, you don't get it," Ray snapped. "You should've married the dragon lady. That's how these things end. And I should've been happy with Stella, and Kowalski could've made an honest woman out of Frannie. I know he liked her. That was the happy ending, our happy ending, for all of us. What the hell is this?"
"This is honesty."
Ray stood speechless by the bright blue curtains, under the weak yellow light, half in shadow. His entire body seemed to be asking for something he couldn't voice; something he had never been able to get past his own guard.
Fraser didn't hesitate any longer. He stood up, crossed over to Ray in two strong strides, and folded the him in an embrace. Ray's hands closed over his waist and pushed for about three seconds before relenting. Even so he remained stiff and unresponsive.
Fraser kissed Ray's neck, and felt him twitch, though he didn't pull back. Fraser's hands found the back of Ray's neck and massaged it softly, gently. When he spoke, he kept his voice low, Ray's head to his shoulder, like holding a child. "This is us." He kissed Ray's forehead, his hand slowly moving up and down Ray's spine. "This is what no-one told us to be."
Ray didn't move, but Fraser could feel his heartbeat at his temple, slowing down from its fever pitch, little by little.
Fraser tugged Ray's shirt out from the waistband of his silk trousers, and, meeting no resistance, placed his palm on Ray's back, moving it in slow circles.
"Fraser, I don't know." Ray sighed.
"You don't have to make any more decisions tonight," Fraser told him, dropping his other hand to push it, too, under Ray's shirt, feeling the bumps of his spine, the musculature of his thin back, gently rubbing the tension away, inch by inch. "Everything is still possible. All you need to do now is rest."
Ray opened his mouth, as if to say something, to protest, to swear, but instead he grabbed Fraser's head between his hands and kissed him, open-mouthed and violent at first, then slower, slower, and Fraser felt him fit against his body, thigh to thigh - slower. Calmer. Soft.
Ray held the kiss as he pushed Fraser down on to the bed, almost as if to break it would be to break a spell. "Benny," he moaned against Fraser's mouth as he struggled out of his shirt. "Oh god."
In his voice there was pain and need and love, all mixed up and raw. Fraser wanted him so badly he almost didn't care, but--
"Ray, do this only if you want to."
"I want to make it so I can't go back again," Ray said, and slipped Fraser's belt out of its loop.
Fraser fell back against the bed as Ray's fingers closed over his cock, stroked it, just once, a delicious pull that Fraser could feel all the way at the back of his head. When he opened his eyes he saw a look on Ray's face that was half desperation and half bliss.
He had barely believed it was possible to love someone this much.
"Ray," he croaked.
"Shh," said Ray, and bent over, taking Fraser's cock in his mouth.
Ray was hesitant and careful, as if he was afraid of hurting him, nothing at all like Kowalski's violent enthusiasm. Fraser resisted the urge to put his hand at the back of Ray's head, to guide him downwards, but it wasn't easy, and he dug his fingers into the mattress to keep them still. The eroticism of the hesitation itself nearly undid him then and there. "Ray," he gasped.
Ray rolled his tongue around the tip of Fraser's cock, and then sucked the tip in tightly. Swallowed him.
The room was lost to the sensation, the light outside pulsing to the rhythm of sex.
*
Fraser emerged from the shower at 6 am to find Ray curled up in bed with the pillow wrapped around his ears.
"Jesus, Fraser, do you know what time it is?"
"Yes," said Fraser, but didn't state it, as it was shown quite plainly in the digital clock radio on the nightstand, so he assumed the question was rhetorical.
"And you're seriously getting up? Get back in bed right now. I'm not kidding."
Amused, Fraser slipped back under the covers and wrapped himself naked around Ray's half-clad shape.
"Fuck, Fraser, you're wet!"
"I'm sorry, Ray, but you did say--"
"You bet I did." Ray twisted around and pulled Fraser up to him, kissing him, long limbs tangling around him. When he pulled back, the thin light of day outside drew his face in the half-light, the smile on his face that rarest of the rare, that special one Fraser remembered from years and years ago.
"Happy?"
Yes.