Benton Fraser + Mark Smithbauer = HOT!
I love The Blue Line, there is just so much pretty! Fraser in jeans. Fraser in the brown uniform. Fraser skating. Fraser and Mark having a "sleepover"!! Mark, shirtless, on Ben's bed; the way he casually flings his arm around Ben, nrghh! And he is definitely "Ben" in this episode. We get to see a glimpse of his past, his childhood.
There's also Fraser dealing with equanimity with his friend being a dick, and being loyal without being a doormat. And maybe the reason Smithbauer's such a jerk in canon is that we see him at his worst, and he's defensive in the face of Fraser's fraseriness.
So it's no surprise writers have been attracted to the Ben/Mark relationship, and to exploring the different sides each brings out in the other.
On A Frozen Pond by Otsoko. For me 'The Blue Line' is, among other things, about the traces of who you were lying beneath who you've become. Otsoko has woven a beautifully evocative and anguished tale around the episode.Fraser suddenly regretted going into that liquor store and then going to his apartment and seeing him again and seeing what he had become and feeling the pain of the bottle to the chin, and the deeper pain of the manner in which Mark had treated him, like a lackey, like someone he'd never met, like a nobody. Because maybe Fraser had been nobody in Mark's life.
Like Otsoko's story, Kalena's Line of Sight beautifully discloses an intimate past which makes the betrayal of friendship that much more poignant. Fraser is torn between memories of young love and lust, and the realities of the world they now live in."That's good, baby, you're doing great." Those hoarse, gentle words melt him completely. He's never been anyone's 'baby,' doesn't remember an endearment from anyone's lips, never got praise for no reason. It's as unlooked-for as the warm touch of Mark's soft kiss on his belly, and just as sweet. It starts an odd glow in his heart that's like a twin of the heat lower down. And it's Mark. He's with the hard-bodied man who is the boy he loves.
And of course we love to speculate about young Ben and Mark, back in Inuvik! Try these:
Fundamentals, by justbreathe80It turned out that Ben was a great skater. Fast and technically perfect, whereas Mark got by on instinct and force, always had, since he was five and his dad tried to teach him the right way. Ben handled a hockey stick like he handled Mrs. Sandler's questions in math class, serious and focused and not making any stupid mistakes. Mark nudged Billy Smith out of the way, and gestured for Ben to take up the right wing.
With Ben at his wing, they outclassed everyone out there - even the older teenagers who had played for years on this same lake. It was like Ben knew exactly where he was going and what he was going to do, every time, and they were getting the pucks past Jimmy one after another, lighting it up.
Or Practise, by luzula
Mark continued on the subject of panties. Benton had mostly tuned him out, and so he almost missed it when Mark said, "You know, maybe we need to practise."
Huh? "Practise what?"
"Um, you know," Mark said, making a vague gesture. "So you know what to do when you get a girl."
"How do you mean? Practise how?" Benton asked, intrigued despite himself.
"We could do it on each other." Mark shot a glance at Benton to see how he would take this, then added quickly, "It doesn't really count, of course, but we get practise."
That's right, boys. It doesn't really count. *pets them*
And then there's after the episode, after the show, even. A whole other world to explore. Like I Remember You, by Colleen. Mark grins at the expression of pure shock on his friend's face when the door is opened, shock quickly converted into delight. It's perfect. It's exactly what he wanted.
"Hey. Remember me?"
Ben puts on a frown of mock concentration. "You look very much like a young man I once knew..."
"Really, eh. Nice guy?"
"Not especially."
"Hey!" Playing over, Mark pulls Ben into a bear hug, which is returned enthusiastically.
Or Interlude, by china_shop Mark put his hands on the steering wheel. "You drag me all the way up here and keep me at arm's length." He tried to keep his tone light. "The least you can do is dish the dirt."
"I'm sorry." Ben looked him square in the eye. "It's not that I don't want to."
"It's okay," Mark told him, and wondered when he'd started playing the saint. It must be Ben's influence.
Ben's mouth twisted ruefully, and Mark let go of the steering wheel and pulled him into a tight hug. "You should tell him. Whoever he is, he'd be an idiot to pass up the chance."
Ben hugged back. His face was warm and smooth against Mark's cheek, and he smelled of fresh air and warm male skin. Mark started to respond despite himself, cock hardening, lips tingling in anticipation, but when Ben pulled away, he didn't resist.
Mark sat back and raked his fingers through his hair, glad of the early evening chill.
Ben rested his hand lightly on Mark's thigh, and Mark glanced down at the strong blunt fingers. He knew an apology when he saw one. "Well," he croaked, and cleared his throat. He put his hands back on the wheel. "If you're not going to indulge me like that, it's your loss. At least we can strap on some skates and play some hockey, eh?"
Ben smiled. "It would be my pleasure."
And then there's the writers who give Mark a future with someone else, like Kit Mason, who tries to find a happy ending for both him and Dan Rydell from Sports Night in Ice. The man's eyes flicked toward him over cheekbones an architect would have loved to steal, though the nose between those eyes had seen its share of contact with hard surfaces. He lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. Dan nodded; the crowd had thickened since the late theatre crowd arrived, and his table was the only one with an empty seat.
"Thanks," the man said. "Didn't feel like standing up to drink it."
"I can understand that." Dan watched him curiously. "Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar."
Something like panic, and five more emotions after that, crossed the man's face in a flash. "My name's Mark. What's yours?"
"Dan. Dan Rydell." Dan put out a hand to shake. The newcomer's hand carried old calluses on the palm and fingers, and his grip felt strong through the brief contact.
"Dan Rydell. Oh, shit." All at once Mark picked up his coffee and started to push himself to his feet. "I'm sorry."
"Wait a minute. Did I say something wrong?"
A rueful smile twisted Mark's lips. "No. You're fine. Thanks anyway."
Dan put out a hand that didn't quite touch Mark, and the man stopped. "Look, I'm not at work right now. This is just coffee. If I dissed your favorite team, I'll apologize. But I really don't want you to feel you have to leave because of what I do for a living."
Mark stood for what felt like a long moment, thinking, looking at the table. When his eyes rose to meet Dan's, he nodded. "Good point. I'm sorry." He sat down again.
Or how about with Tim Bayliss from Homicide: Life on the Streets? Then you need to read Unionville and it's companion piece Compassion, by shell.
Viciouscat has a master list of Smithbauer fic. Check it out.
There's also Fraser dealing with equanimity with his friend being a dick, and being loyal without being a doormat. And maybe the reason Smithbauer's such a jerk in canon is that we see him at his worst, and he's defensive in the face of Fraser's fraseriness.
So it's no surprise writers have been attracted to the Ben/Mark relationship, and to exploring the different sides each brings out in the other.
On A Frozen Pond by Otsoko. For me 'The Blue Line' is, among other things, about the traces of who you were lying beneath who you've become. Otsoko has woven a beautifully evocative and anguished tale around the episode.Fraser suddenly regretted going into that liquor store and then going to his apartment and seeing him again and seeing what he had become and feeling the pain of the bottle to the chin, and the deeper pain of the manner in which Mark had treated him, like a lackey, like someone he'd never met, like a nobody. Because maybe Fraser had been nobody in Mark's life.
Like Otsoko's story, Kalena's Line of Sight beautifully discloses an intimate past which makes the betrayal of friendship that much more poignant. Fraser is torn between memories of young love and lust, and the realities of the world they now live in."That's good, baby, you're doing great." Those hoarse, gentle words melt him completely. He's never been anyone's 'baby,' doesn't remember an endearment from anyone's lips, never got praise for no reason. It's as unlooked-for as the warm touch of Mark's soft kiss on his belly, and just as sweet. It starts an odd glow in his heart that's like a twin of the heat lower down. And it's Mark. He's with the hard-bodied man who is the boy he loves.
And of course we love to speculate about young Ben and Mark, back in Inuvik! Try these:
Fundamentals, by justbreathe80It turned out that Ben was a great skater. Fast and technically perfect, whereas Mark got by on instinct and force, always had, since he was five and his dad tried to teach him the right way. Ben handled a hockey stick like he handled Mrs. Sandler's questions in math class, serious and focused and not making any stupid mistakes. Mark nudged Billy Smith out of the way, and gestured for Ben to take up the right wing.
With Ben at his wing, they outclassed everyone out there - even the older teenagers who had played for years on this same lake. It was like Ben knew exactly where he was going and what he was going to do, every time, and they were getting the pucks past Jimmy one after another, lighting it up.
Or Practise, by luzula
Mark continued on the subject of panties. Benton had mostly tuned him out, and so he almost missed it when Mark said, "You know, maybe we need to practise."
Huh? "Practise what?"
"Um, you know," Mark said, making a vague gesture. "So you know what to do when you get a girl."
"How do you mean? Practise how?" Benton asked, intrigued despite himself.
"We could do it on each other." Mark shot a glance at Benton to see how he would take this, then added quickly, "It doesn't really count, of course, but we get practise."
That's right, boys. It doesn't really count. *pets them*
And then there's after the episode, after the show, even. A whole other world to explore. Like I Remember You, by Colleen. Mark grins at the expression of pure shock on his friend's face when the door is opened, shock quickly converted into delight. It's perfect. It's exactly what he wanted.
"Hey. Remember me?"
Ben puts on a frown of mock concentration. "You look very much like a young man I once knew..."
"Really, eh. Nice guy?"
"Not especially."
"Hey!" Playing over, Mark pulls Ben into a bear hug, which is returned enthusiastically.
Or Interlude, by china_shop Mark put his hands on the steering wheel. "You drag me all the way up here and keep me at arm's length." He tried to keep his tone light. "The least you can do is dish the dirt."
"I'm sorry." Ben looked him square in the eye. "It's not that I don't want to."
"It's okay," Mark told him, and wondered when he'd started playing the saint. It must be Ben's influence.
Ben's mouth twisted ruefully, and Mark let go of the steering wheel and pulled him into a tight hug. "You should tell him. Whoever he is, he'd be an idiot to pass up the chance."
Ben hugged back. His face was warm and smooth against Mark's cheek, and he smelled of fresh air and warm male skin. Mark started to respond despite himself, cock hardening, lips tingling in anticipation, but when Ben pulled away, he didn't resist.
Mark sat back and raked his fingers through his hair, glad of the early evening chill.
Ben rested his hand lightly on Mark's thigh, and Mark glanced down at the strong blunt fingers. He knew an apology when he saw one. "Well," he croaked, and cleared his throat. He put his hands back on the wheel. "If you're not going to indulge me like that, it's your loss. At least we can strap on some skates and play some hockey, eh?"
Ben smiled. "It would be my pleasure."
And then there's the writers who give Mark a future with someone else, like Kit Mason, who tries to find a happy ending for both him and Dan Rydell from Sports Night in Ice. The man's eyes flicked toward him over cheekbones an architect would have loved to steal, though the nose between those eyes had seen its share of contact with hard surfaces. He lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. Dan nodded; the crowd had thickened since the late theatre crowd arrived, and his table was the only one with an empty seat.
"Thanks," the man said. "Didn't feel like standing up to drink it."
"I can understand that." Dan watched him curiously. "Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar."
Something like panic, and five more emotions after that, crossed the man's face in a flash. "My name's Mark. What's yours?"
"Dan. Dan Rydell." Dan put out a hand to shake. The newcomer's hand carried old calluses on the palm and fingers, and his grip felt strong through the brief contact.
"Dan Rydell. Oh, shit." All at once Mark picked up his coffee and started to push himself to his feet. "I'm sorry."
"Wait a minute. Did I say something wrong?"
A rueful smile twisted Mark's lips. "No. You're fine. Thanks anyway."
Dan put out a hand that didn't quite touch Mark, and the man stopped. "Look, I'm not at work right now. This is just coffee. If I dissed your favorite team, I'll apologize. But I really don't want you to feel you have to leave because of what I do for a living."
Mark stood for what felt like a long moment, thinking, looking at the table. When his eyes rose to meet Dan's, he nodded. "Good point. I'm sorry." He sat down again.
Or how about with Tim Bayliss from Homicide: Life on the Streets? Then you need to read Unionville and it's companion piece Compassion, by shell.
Viciouscat has a master list of Smithbauer fic. Check it out.