Work Text:
Time passing in a car, classic or otherwise, in the service of fighting crime, or at least enduring a stakeout, was proof that temporal physics was not an exact science. By Ben's watch only two hours had passed, but it would seem from Ray's behavior that they had been sitting here for days, not precisely 124 minutes and 57 seconds. 58 seconds. 59.
125 minutes.
"Jeez."
Ray tilted his head back to the seat rest, then dropped it forward onto the steering wheel and rubbed his neck. "Jeez," he said again, finishing his remarks with a tremendous sigh.
Ben tried to resist the manipulation to interact, but found himself capitulating. "You seem tired."
A slitted eye opened in his direction and Ben felt the stirrings of alarm. "Duh, Fraser. Stakeouts suck." Ray sighed again and leaned back in the seat, now favoring him with an annoyed glare. "Do not tell me you don't agree stakeouts suck, because you'd be lying."
A caged Ray Kowalski was a volatile Ray Kowalski. "I wouldn't think of disagreeing with you, Ray." Ben's gaze dropped to the seat, where the sports section lay folded between them. "Interesting hockey game last night, wasn’t it? I must say the Blackhawks acquitted themselves well, despite that injury to the goalie. Ah – heh, here's a story that might amuse you, Ray. My friend Bryce Allgood used to play junior hockey in Manitoba with Ed Belfour, the Hawk's goalie. It was for the Winkler Flyers, I believe, and—"
"Not."
"Not what, Ray?"
"Not amusing."
"Well, if you'll let me get to the amusing part…"
Ray sighed. Loudly.
"Never mind," said Ben.
156 minutes, 24 seconds
"Say it."
"Say what, Ray?"
"Say, 'stakeouts suck.'"
"Ray."
"C'mon. 'Stakeouts suck,' Fraser."
Now it was Ben's turn to sigh. "Are you deliberately trying to provoke an argument?"
"Me?" Ray's leaned across the seat and bared his teeth. "You're the one arguing."
"No I'm not–"
"Sure you are."
"No. Ray, I'm not."
"Are too."
"I am not!"
"See? Say it."
Not for the first time in his life Benton Fraser felt an urge to commit violence. He suppressed it. "All right, Ray. Stakeouts are, in fact, trying."
"They suck."
"Fine. Stakeouts suck. Are you happy now?"
"Yeah," said Ray, not looking happy at all. "Deliriously."
6:52 pm. Three hours exactly.
"Aaahh."
"Are you in pain?"
Ray bent his head and banged it on the wheel. "Yes, Fraser. I am in pain. This stakeout…which sucks, is a royal pain in the keister."
The tendons were standing out on Ray's neck. Without thinking, Ben reached out a hand and rubbed the back of his partner's neck, which was warm and slightly damp. He squeezed and rubbed and felt Ray relax slightly under his touch.
"Mmm." Ray rolled his shoulders and flashed a tired grin in his direction. "Feels good."
"Ah, you're welcome," Ben mumbled, blinking. He returned his hand to his lap.
200 minutes, 32 seconds
"Ray. Ray. Ray–"
"Shaddup, Fraser, I'm sleeping."
"You're feigning sleep to ignore me."
“I can’t ignore you. You keep talking to me.” Ray folded his arms on the wheel and buried his face.
Ben looked to the heavens but no help was forthcoming. When he looked back at Ray all he saw was spiky hair sticking out of a nest of leather jacket.
He resisted the urge to pat his partner on the back, or to run his fingers through that hair—
Ben took in a sharp breath and let it out slowly through his nose.
Time passed. An unsettling sensation remained.
235 minutes and 18 seconds
Ray twitched. Sighed. Flopped. Murmured. Twitched again. Looked out the window at the gray rain sheeting down. Cleaned the inside of the window. Breathed on the window to fog it up. Stretched. Cracked his back. Climbed into the back seat after something. Climbed back. Twitched. Sighed–
"Ray," Ben said, taking pity.
"Mm?"
"Shall I tell you a story?"
"Not if you expect me to stay awake."
"Ah."
Ray closed his eyes. "Sorry. It's this rain, I guess. Sorry."
Ben knew better than to blame the weather. Still, he nodded and smiled. "No, no apology needed."
"It's just that those Eskimo stories are so, so–"
"Dull?"
"Yeah. Well no, not dull. I don't mean... C'mon, Frase, you know what I mean."
"Yes, Ray."
"Long. They're long."
"Yes, Ray."
Twitch. Crack neck. Sigh. Sigh deeper. Tap fingers. Scratch a thigh. A muscular, denim-clad thigh.
Ben looked away from Ray's thigh. "I wasn't thinking of an Inuit story."
Ray nodded slowly, ran a hand over his face. "Okay, then. Shoot."
"All right," Ben said, stretching. "When I was a woman–"
"Fraser!"
"Yes, Ray?"
"You did not just say that."
"I…believe I did."
"You were a woman. You said when you were a woman. You mean to say that?"
"Yes."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Are you nuts?"
"There has been some discussion of that matter, and— Well, if what you mean is, do I really believe I am a woman, or ever was a woman, the answer is no. But I have disguised myself as a woman."
"Couldn't you just say that? Say, 'Ray, old buddy, once when I was in disguise as a woman,' and then say the rest of it?"
Ben stared at his partner, torn between the desire to placate him and an even stronger urge to commit mayhem. "Ray, old buddy," he said evenly, "once when I was in disguise as a woman I had to stand out in the rain in high heels and panty hose for four hours straight waiting for the suspect to arrive."
"So what you're actually saying," Ray interrupted, still sounding combative, "is that you were undercover as a hooker, not a woman."
"A prostitute and a woman, yes," Ben corrected, annoyed. "The two are not mutually exclusive." He turned to look out his side window. "Perhaps it would be best if I just dropped the subject."
"Testy." Ray peered out his own side window and let out a disgusted breath. "Come on, Farley, come on. Get your crooked ass out here so I can go home." For a moment Ben thought Ray was about to bang on the horn. "Fucking rain."
"It's actually not raining that hard any more, Ray. And it's warm rain. Good for the plants. A sign that–"
"What plants? This is fucking Chicago, Fraser. No plants allowed. And why do you always have to be right? You know, sometimes I’m right!" Ray glared darkly across the seat.
“I stand corrected,” Ben answered snippily. He turned toward the side window and drew mountains in the fogged glass.
Time stretched, like the ice shelf on the Bering Sea.
"So?"
"So, what, Ray?"
"So what's the end of the story?"
"Oh, I thought you didn't—" Ben turned to his partner, who was watching him intently. "You want to hear it?"
"Sure." Ray nodded sharply. "Wanna hear how it came out, you being a woman and all."
How incredibly frustrating he found it, trying to assess Ray Kowalski's moods! Perhaps this was what it was like for Ray, constantly perplexed by the behavior of his ex-wife.
"So let's hear it, Fraser."
"There's really not much more, Ray, other than the fact that when the suspect appeared I chased him half a mile through the rain until he went to ground at Ned Brown’s Easy Does It Inn, ironically on the precise night they were having their annual cross-dresser's dance. Suffice to say, with my wig askew and ladders in my hose and my muddy heels, I was lucky to place third in their ‘Miss Understood in Yellowknife’ pageant. But at least I had my hands on the suspect when reinforcements arrived."
Ray narrowed his eyes. "You are making that up."
"I assure you, Ray, I caught him."
"Not that. The other stuff. The pageant."
"Oh. Well, perhaps I may have been less than truthful there, Ray."
"Hah! Knew it. You made the whole thing up, didn't you?"
"On the contrary, Ray. The chase, the dance, the pageant – that's all quite true. But…I confess I didn't come in third."
"Don’t take it too hard, Frase. There’s always next year."
"The truth is, I won."
"Oh. Didn't want to brag, huh?"
"To be honest," admitted Ben, "I wasn't sure how you'd feel about having a partner who won a trophy for looking like a woman."
"Was it a big trophy?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, it was."
"Then I'm okay with it."
"Good."
"Actually," Ray said, sounding oddly dreamy, "I kinda wish I'd seen that. You as a woman, I mean."
"Don’t take it too hard, Ray. There's always next year."
Ray snuffled a laugh.
4 hours, 22 minutes, 0 seconds.
“D’jya ever wonder what it would be like, having a different life?”
Ben turned his head. “In what way?”
Ray shrugged. “I mean, what if you weren’t, well, you. Or you never met the people you met, or the person you fell in love with, or you met someone else instead. D’jya ever wonder what you’d be like then?”
“You mean…for example, if you hadn’t—“
“Yeah,” Ray said. He looked out his side mirror. “Like if she and I, we never met. Sometimes I wonder, you know?”
And if I’d never met Victoria, Ben thought. Or Eric. Or Steve. Or—
“Crazy, right?” Ray was looking at him, eyes piercing. “Sometimes I wonder about that. Who would I be? What if I made different choices? What if I did something that made me another kind of guy. What if—" He swallowed. "What about you?”
“I—“
”Attention all units: suspect seen in vicinity of Third and—“
“That’s us!” Ray bellowed, hurtling out of the driver’s door. "Hey, that's him!"
Ben slid out of the car and put out his foot. Dingo Farley made an oofing sound as he tripped and fell with a thud to the sidewalk.
4 hours, 37 minutes, 44 seconds
“That was fun,” Ray said, slamming the door.
Ben closed his door carefully. “I’m glad Detectives Huey and Dewey were there to take him in. I confess I’m too tired to face paperwork.”
“Yeah. But we got him first. Man, what a sleazebag that Farley is.”
“Agreed.”
There was a pause, and then a long, drawn out sigh from the driver’s side. “Sorry I was such a pain in the ass today, Fraser.”
“Well, stakeouts are…well, they suck, Ray,” Ben said, turning to him.
Ray grinned, and his hand moved to pat Ben’s thigh. “Yeah, they do.”
“They do indeed.”
“It’s because they’re so, you know, boring,” Ray said. His hand remained where it was.
“Yes, yes, they are,” Ben agreed, clearing his throat. He was aware of warmth radiating up his leg. “Boring, I mean.” He looked up from Ray’s hand and Ray smiled at him sideways. The hand didn’t move. In fact, it squeezed Ben’s thigh, just a little. “Ah,” Ben said, his face heating.
He should be exhausted, and in a way he was, but the air itself crackled between them and he felt incredibly alive. Their eyes held for a moment. Time stretched, but it wasn’t frozen, not like the icy sea.
"Fraser," Ray said hoarsely. His hand remained where it was.
"Yes, Ray." It was not a query. "Yes.”
Ray blinked. "Oh," he said, still blinking rapidly, and his hand started to withdraw.
Ben reached out to grab Ray's wrist. "Don't."
“Okay,” Ray said. His face changed from gold to white to red from the cars driving past. “Yeah. Good. Okay.”
Time passing in a car, classic or otherwise, in the service of fighting crime, or at least enduring a stakeout, was proof that temporal physics was not an exact science.
It was the time it took for Ray to incline his head, that slow smile spreading over his face, for Ben to smile as well, and for his heart to speed up; it was the time it took for both to lean towards each other, for the glimmer in Ray’s eyes to set off a fire in Ben’s belly.
Perhaps it was an instant. Perhaps it was a lifetime.