due South fic!
Aug. 4th, 2007 12:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
r_vecchioTitle: Untitled!
Fandom: due South
Pairing: RayV/Dewey. They got a hold on me!
Rating: PG
Notes: These two? I love writing. Love love love love love. And I have no idea why! XD
Fandom: due South
Pairing: RayV/Dewey. They got a hold on me!
Rating: PG
Notes: These two? I love writing. Love love love love love. And I have no idea why! XD
“Hair.”
“Cologne.”
“You were attracted to my smell?”
“Yeah!” Dewey got that grin on his face, ear to ear and all the way back again and Ray watched his eyes flicker unfocussed, the way he knew it always did when Dewey was remembering some weird fact. “Hey, did you know that many lepidopterans can detect a potential mate from as far as 6.2 miles away? All ‘cause of their pheromones? Can you imagine that? You could be here, I could be at the station and I’d still be able to ‘detect’ you.”
“Cologne doesn’t count,” Ray grumbled, ignoring his inanity and passing the soapy dish to Dewey for him to dry. “That’s something I put on, not something about me.”
“Kryton to Vecchio, Krypton to Veeecchioooo,” Dewey crooned, leaning towards him and taking a big whiff. “You practically live in it.” His eyelids slipped closed when the smell hit him full force, a sweet-spicy odor that reminded him of autumn. “It’s you.”
“It doesn’t count!” Ray insisted, shooting Dewey a curious look at the effect of the cologne. He hadn’t even put any on today, he’d gotten up so late he hadn’t had time. But apparently - Ray lifted an elbow and sniffed himself - he still smelled of it. “Choose something else,” he demanded, trying his hardest not to sound like he was pouting.
Dewey shifted round so he was leaning back on the counter, making a great show of deep contemplation. “Alright, let me think.”
Ray blinked and Dewey let out a yelp and jumped back, nearly tripping over his own feet when Ray flung a wet hand out to whack him on the arm, soap duds flying everywhere. Good job they were at Dewey’s apartment; Ray couldn’t stand mess like that in his own kitchen. Dewey, however, didn’t seem to mind. It had taken everything inside Ray just to get him to agree to help with his own washing up in the first place, and that was only after he’d promised to make it worth Dewey’s while.
“The second thing that attracted you to me,” Ray prompted impatiently, plunging his hands back into the now lukewarm dishwater.
Dewey lowered his arms slowly, poking his head out to see if the attack was over. “The fact that I’m funnier than you.”
Ray gaped, turning his gaze slowly to the side and looking at Dewey like he’d grown another four or five hundred heads.
“Wha-? It’s a legitimate reason!” Dewey’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead in an effort to feign innocence. “I couldn’t be with someone who was funnier than me,” he added, earnestly.
“I’m funny! I’m very funny!” Ray exclaimed, wondering whether he had ever actually felt more affronted before in his life. Man, the rate Dewey was going, he’d be getting more than a whack on the shoulder. “What d’you mean, “the fact that I’m funnier than you,”” end air quote.
“Well, it’s just…” Dewey shrugged a shoulder, tossing the dishtowel on the side. “I gotta be the funny one, you know?” Ray noticed that Dewey had kept his back to him. “If there’s two funny guys, it- it just doesn’t work, no matter how much you want it to.” And suddenly he knew why.
They’d never really spoken about Jack or the New One Liner and what had happened after he and Huey had left the district yet again to have another go on the comedy carousal. He’d brought it up a couple of times, in his patented (and oh so subtle) Ray Vecchio way but Dewey had always shut off and slid his own patented (and not so subtle) sunny beam on his face and told him there was no tale to tell. Nine times out of ten, he’d instantly change the subject and start chatting on and on about the amount of money he could make if he invented a self-cleaning car or a portable castle so all the men and women who were thinking of marrying into royalty could try before they buy.
Ray pulled the plug and the sink belched, the water gurgling and draining away. He grabbed the spare towel on the counter (the fact Dewey owned two was enough to make him Hail Mary in his head because it had to mean the end of the world or something), and dried his hands, careful to take his time before he replied. It was easy to feel the change in the atmosphere, from their usual mocking to something more real.
Thing was, real wasn’t so easy with Dewey, ‘cause if he didn’t know what the other cop was going to do next when he was happy and normal, he sure as hell didn’t have the first clue when things turned more serious.
With no pearls of wisdom with which to break the silence, Ray settled for snapping the towel in his hands and whipping Dewey gently on the backside to get him to turn around. Dewey complied, but not before he’d plastered the smile back in place. It tore at something in Ray that Dewey felt the need to do that. Sure, things between them weren’t serious serious, they were having fun, but Ray still couldn’t stop himself from feeling like that. The reason why was a question he didn’t want to answer yet.
“You never did dance with me,” Ray said quietly, taking hold of Dewey’s hands and pulling him closer.
Dewey let out a snort of laughter but let himself be moved. “Maybe that was because you were drunk as a chipmunk? And you broke my lamp.”
“Drunk as a hunk,” Ray corrected, his voice purring as he dipped Dewey with a dramatic flourish. He felt fingers digging into his shoulders as Dewey clung on and his stomach flipped over. He ruined the hot, sultry effect though when he wiggled his eyebrows like Dewey was prone to do.
Dewey kicked him in the shin and Ray grunted, pulling him back upright. “Whatever you say, Vecchio.” He sounded less than convinced. After a moment, when he’d settled into their languid swaying back and forth, he spoke up again. “What was your second thing? That you liked about me, I mean.”
“Other than this?“ He asked, raking a finger through Dewey’s hair. “The fact that I’m taller than you,” Ray grinned, just a touch of childish retribution in his voice.
“Oh, that’d be right. Pick on someone smaller than you.” His glare was only half-genuine, Ray guessed.
“Hey, you’re an easy target, Dewser. You know what they say about short guys, right?” He paused, managed to stop the smirk threatening to escape when he saw the glare become a real one. “Short guys, small feet. Small feet, tiny…” Dewey’s eyes flashed a warning but the dare was also there, pushing Ray to finish it. And Ray wasn't one to back down. He leant a little closer, tilted his head so Dewey would smell the cologne on his neck. “Package. Pint-size.”
“I don’t like your mouth,” Dewey bit back before he got a waft of Ray’s smell.
“I like yours,” Ray hummed, finally letting the smirk out and making as if to press it to Dewey’s lips. At the last moment, he turned his face and landed it on Dewey’s cheek.
Dewey made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and settled his head on Ray’s shoulder, face turned in so he could still smell his neck. Ray could feel the warm gentle puffs of air as Dewey breathed, the steady regularity of it lulling and relaxing him and he let his eyes slip shut, revelling, for once, in the unusual peace and quiet.
“Do you miss it?” Dewey asked suddenly, rubbing a thumb back and forth just under Ray’s ear.
Ray stifled a weary yawn and dipped his head, feeling the clamminess of their palms cool, as they turned lazily on the spot. “Do I miss what?”
Dewey’s thumb swiped higher, over the prickles of his peach fuzz. “Your hair.”
There was just enough cheek in his voice for Ray not to take offence and actually laugh. He felt a similar huff against the pulse point in his throat and buried his nose in Dewey’s own messy hair to hide the shiver that ran down his spine. “You got enough for the both of us,” he mumbled, pulling away to blow a stray strand off Dewey’s forehead.
Dewey looked up at him, his face lit on one side, casting hollows across his face. He raised his eyebrows and Ray mimicked him.
“You’re not having mine. I worked hard for this. This is well cultivated, uh…” His brow furrowed for a moment as he searched for the right word and Ray felt the almost uncomfortable urge to kiss the frown away. He did prefer it when Dewey smiled, if it was a real smile; he always had done, no matter how annoying it got or how much he complained about his over-zealous behavior sometimes. Dewey’s eyes soon lit up again and instantly found Ray’s staring back. “Cultivation!”
Ray had to pull out every trick in his little black Book of Langoustini to keep a straight face.
“Is that a yes?”
It was Ray’s turn to frown at the question, until he realised Dewey had jumped back a page. Sometimes it was hard to keep up the guy. They’d be talking about their respective cases, or a funny story about Kowalski before Ray met him, and then Dewey would make a random comment about the pizza boy the other night and how he thought Ray had tipped too much. Of course, he would almost always forget that the reason Ray tipped at all was because he was in a good mood, mostly down to the simple equation of Ray, Dewey, bedroom and working up an appetite.
“That’s a yes,” Ray finally conceded, unthreading their fingers and bringing his hand to Dewey’s jaw, thumb and forefinger tilting his head back. “But what I lack in hair follicles, I make up in…” He leant down and Dewey unconsciously lifted himself a little, bringing their mouths closer together. His hold on Ray’s shoulder tightened. “Taste,” Ray murmured, finally touching his lips to Dewey’s. He felt more than heard Dewey’s reply, an amused, “Smooth, real smooth,” before the words got lost in the kiss.
“And height,” Ray added satisfactorily, the corner of his mouth turning into a smirk when he pulled away, shoulders pushed back to emphasize their vertically-sized difference. Dewey didn’t take the bait however, much to Ray’s surprise. He just sunk down to the balls of his feet and very deliberately ran a hand through his hair, watching Ray watching him. Then he hooked an arm around the back of Ray’s neck and pulled him down towards him, to prove to him once and for all that the best things really do come in small packages.
“Cologne.”
“You were attracted to my smell?”
“Yeah!” Dewey got that grin on his face, ear to ear and all the way back again and Ray watched his eyes flicker unfocussed, the way he knew it always did when Dewey was remembering some weird fact. “Hey, did you know that many lepidopterans can detect a potential mate from as far as 6.2 miles away? All ‘cause of their pheromones? Can you imagine that? You could be here, I could be at the station and I’d still be able to ‘detect’ you.”
“Cologne doesn’t count,” Ray grumbled, ignoring his inanity and passing the soapy dish to Dewey for him to dry. “That’s something I put on, not something about me.”
“Kryton to Vecchio, Krypton to Veeecchioooo,” Dewey crooned, leaning towards him and taking a big whiff. “You practically live in it.” His eyelids slipped closed when the smell hit him full force, a sweet-spicy odor that reminded him of autumn. “It’s you.”
“It doesn’t count!” Ray insisted, shooting Dewey a curious look at the effect of the cologne. He hadn’t even put any on today, he’d gotten up so late he hadn’t had time. But apparently - Ray lifted an elbow and sniffed himself - he still smelled of it. “Choose something else,” he demanded, trying his hardest not to sound like he was pouting.
Dewey shifted round so he was leaning back on the counter, making a great show of deep contemplation. “Alright, let me think.”
Ray blinked and Dewey let out a yelp and jumped back, nearly tripping over his own feet when Ray flung a wet hand out to whack him on the arm, soap duds flying everywhere. Good job they were at Dewey’s apartment; Ray couldn’t stand mess like that in his own kitchen. Dewey, however, didn’t seem to mind. It had taken everything inside Ray just to get him to agree to help with his own washing up in the first place, and that was only after he’d promised to make it worth Dewey’s while.
“The second thing that attracted you to me,” Ray prompted impatiently, plunging his hands back into the now lukewarm dishwater.
Dewey lowered his arms slowly, poking his head out to see if the attack was over. “The fact that I’m funnier than you.”
Ray gaped, turning his gaze slowly to the side and looking at Dewey like he’d grown another four or five hundred heads.
“Wha-? It’s a legitimate reason!” Dewey’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead in an effort to feign innocence. “I couldn’t be with someone who was funnier than me,” he added, earnestly.
“I’m funny! I’m very funny!” Ray exclaimed, wondering whether he had ever actually felt more affronted before in his life. Man, the rate Dewey was going, he’d be getting more than a whack on the shoulder. “What d’you mean, “the fact that I’m funnier than you,”” end air quote.
“Well, it’s just…” Dewey shrugged a shoulder, tossing the dishtowel on the side. “I gotta be the funny one, you know?” Ray noticed that Dewey had kept his back to him. “If there’s two funny guys, it- it just doesn’t work, no matter how much you want it to.” And suddenly he knew why.
They’d never really spoken about Jack or the New One Liner and what had happened after he and Huey had left the district yet again to have another go on the comedy carousal. He’d brought it up a couple of times, in his patented (and oh so subtle) Ray Vecchio way but Dewey had always shut off and slid his own patented (and not so subtle) sunny beam on his face and told him there was no tale to tell. Nine times out of ten, he’d instantly change the subject and start chatting on and on about the amount of money he could make if he invented a self-cleaning car or a portable castle so all the men and women who were thinking of marrying into royalty could try before they buy.
Ray pulled the plug and the sink belched, the water gurgling and draining away. He grabbed the spare towel on the counter (the fact Dewey owned two was enough to make him Hail Mary in his head because it had to mean the end of the world or something), and dried his hands, careful to take his time before he replied. It was easy to feel the change in the atmosphere, from their usual mocking to something more real.
Thing was, real wasn’t so easy with Dewey, ‘cause if he didn’t know what the other cop was going to do next when he was happy and normal, he sure as hell didn’t have the first clue when things turned more serious.
With no pearls of wisdom with which to break the silence, Ray settled for snapping the towel in his hands and whipping Dewey gently on the backside to get him to turn around. Dewey complied, but not before he’d plastered the smile back in place. It tore at something in Ray that Dewey felt the need to do that. Sure, things between them weren’t serious serious, they were having fun, but Ray still couldn’t stop himself from feeling like that. The reason why was a question he didn’t want to answer yet.
“You never did dance with me,” Ray said quietly, taking hold of Dewey’s hands and pulling him closer.
Dewey let out a snort of laughter but let himself be moved. “Maybe that was because you were drunk as a chipmunk? And you broke my lamp.”
“Drunk as a hunk,” Ray corrected, his voice purring as he dipped Dewey with a dramatic flourish. He felt fingers digging into his shoulders as Dewey clung on and his stomach flipped over. He ruined the hot, sultry effect though when he wiggled his eyebrows like Dewey was prone to do.
Dewey kicked him in the shin and Ray grunted, pulling him back upright. “Whatever you say, Vecchio.” He sounded less than convinced. After a moment, when he’d settled into their languid swaying back and forth, he spoke up again. “What was your second thing? That you liked about me, I mean.”
“Other than this?“ He asked, raking a finger through Dewey’s hair. “The fact that I’m taller than you,” Ray grinned, just a touch of childish retribution in his voice.
“Oh, that’d be right. Pick on someone smaller than you.” His glare was only half-genuine, Ray guessed.
“Hey, you’re an easy target, Dewser. You know what they say about short guys, right?” He paused, managed to stop the smirk threatening to escape when he saw the glare become a real one. “Short guys, small feet. Small feet, tiny…” Dewey’s eyes flashed a warning but the dare was also there, pushing Ray to finish it. And Ray wasn't one to back down. He leant a little closer, tilted his head so Dewey would smell the cologne on his neck. “Package. Pint-size.”
“I don’t like your mouth,” Dewey bit back before he got a waft of Ray’s smell.
“I like yours,” Ray hummed, finally letting the smirk out and making as if to press it to Dewey’s lips. At the last moment, he turned his face and landed it on Dewey’s cheek.
Dewey made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and settled his head on Ray’s shoulder, face turned in so he could still smell his neck. Ray could feel the warm gentle puffs of air as Dewey breathed, the steady regularity of it lulling and relaxing him and he let his eyes slip shut, revelling, for once, in the unusual peace and quiet.
“Do you miss it?” Dewey asked suddenly, rubbing a thumb back and forth just under Ray’s ear.
Ray stifled a weary yawn and dipped his head, feeling the clamminess of their palms cool, as they turned lazily on the spot. “Do I miss what?”
Dewey’s thumb swiped higher, over the prickles of his peach fuzz. “Your hair.”
There was just enough cheek in his voice for Ray not to take offence and actually laugh. He felt a similar huff against the pulse point in his throat and buried his nose in Dewey’s own messy hair to hide the shiver that ran down his spine. “You got enough for the both of us,” he mumbled, pulling away to blow a stray strand off Dewey’s forehead.
Dewey looked up at him, his face lit on one side, casting hollows across his face. He raised his eyebrows and Ray mimicked him.
“You’re not having mine. I worked hard for this. This is well cultivated, uh…” His brow furrowed for a moment as he searched for the right word and Ray felt the almost uncomfortable urge to kiss the frown away. He did prefer it when Dewey smiled, if it was a real smile; he always had done, no matter how annoying it got or how much he complained about his over-zealous behavior sometimes. Dewey’s eyes soon lit up again and instantly found Ray’s staring back. “Cultivation!”
Ray had to pull out every trick in his little black Book of Langoustini to keep a straight face.
“Is that a yes?”
It was Ray’s turn to frown at the question, until he realised Dewey had jumped back a page. Sometimes it was hard to keep up the guy. They’d be talking about their respective cases, or a funny story about Kowalski before Ray met him, and then Dewey would make a random comment about the pizza boy the other night and how he thought Ray had tipped too much. Of course, he would almost always forget that the reason Ray tipped at all was because he was in a good mood, mostly down to the simple equation of Ray, Dewey, bedroom and working up an appetite.
“That’s a yes,” Ray finally conceded, unthreading their fingers and bringing his hand to Dewey’s jaw, thumb and forefinger tilting his head back. “But what I lack in hair follicles, I make up in…” He leant down and Dewey unconsciously lifted himself a little, bringing their mouths closer together. His hold on Ray’s shoulder tightened. “Taste,” Ray murmured, finally touching his lips to Dewey’s. He felt more than heard Dewey’s reply, an amused, “Smooth, real smooth,” before the words got lost in the kiss.
“And height,” Ray added satisfactorily, the corner of his mouth turning into a smirk when he pulled away, shoulders pushed back to emphasize their vertically-sized difference. Dewey didn’t take the bait however, much to Ray’s surprise. He just sunk down to the balls of his feet and very deliberately ran a hand through his hair, watching Ray watching him. Then he hooked an arm around the back of Ray’s neck and pulled him down towards him, to prove to him once and for all that the best things really do come in small packages.
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no subject
Date: 2007-08-04 02:19 pm (UTC)Dewey made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and settled his head on Ray’s shoulder, face turned in so he could still smell his neck. Ray could feel the warm gentle puffs of air as Dewey breathed, the steady regularity of it lulling and relaxing him and he let his eyes slip shut, revelling, for once, in the unusual peace and quiet.
“Do you miss it?” Dewey asked suddenly, rubbing a thumb back and forth just under Ray’s ear.
and then I left it 'til the next day, came back to read it and suddenly had the idea to make it into this fic. It was really weird writing it backwards though but it all fit into place in the end.
Heee! History with Jack, yes. That surprised me too. I still don't know what happened though so you'll have to remain curious for a while! :D
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Date: 2007-08-08 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-08 06:18 pm (UTC)