If you're depressed or in a bad mood or just had a bad day, go
here. You won't regret it.
Also? I've found Fraser's favourite radio station.
Go
here and click on 'Inuvik'. I mean, really. They broadcast the
weather in Inuktitut. And play
hokey country songs. And have a spot featuring an Inuit woman storyteller talking about cooking moose and
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But Fraser can tell because when he gets back he finds Ray knows exactly what the weather was like where he'd been on his trip, and sometimes there's something new for dinner he's never tasted before.
He lets Ray go on denying all he wants, even though he teases, because it means that Ray thinks he's turning Canadian himself, and that makes Fraser happy.
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Ray rubs his cheek. 'Huh. Guess it was.'
'It was, ah, beautifully expressed, and very relevant.'
'Uh, thanks.' Fraser's still staring at him, starry-eyed and half-smiling. 'Hey, Fraser? I didn't... you know, hypnotise you or something, did I?'
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'Oh. Oh, well, good, then.'
Fraser hasn't moved, and Ray still doesn't get it, but he's used to Fraser being, well, Fraser, so he figures he'll wait for the explanation. If there is one. Anyway, it's not like looking at Fraser looking like that is exactly a chore or anything.
He sits back in his chair and sips his tea. It doesn't happen very often, but for now, Ray can be patient.
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It's pretty late by the time Ray remembers, late enough that he's curled around a half-asleep Fraser in the soft glow from the stove, and Fraser hmms for a moment before he's awake enough to answer.
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'You told an Inuit story.'
Ray feels Fraser's smile, the soft kiss on his hair. 'What, you never heard that one before? Thought I reminded you to renew your subscription to Inuit Stories Weekly.' He presses closer, because Fraser's warm and because he can and because he never wants to take either one of those things for a given. 'Maybe next time you oughta listen to your partner, y'know?'
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But then he smiles, and continues briskly, 'Perhaps you should think about contributing, Ray. Your story really was remarkably moving.'
'Moving, huh? I'll give you moving.'
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Something close to joy is starting inside of Ray, and as he lifts his eyes to Fraser's he sees it reflected right back at him, and fuck if he doesn't finally figure it out. This is the look he saw today, changed only a little by warmth and soft light.
Fraser catches Ray's hand in his own, threading their fingers together. Ray catches Fraser's mouth, a brief, warm dusting of lips. Fair trade, Ray thinks.
'So, partner, are you gonna still love me when I turn completely Canadian?' He smiles, quicksilver, does the mouth thing again. Addictive Mountie.
'What if Inuit stories are just the beginning? What if I start saying "eh" and "zed" and go around licking things?'
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'Oh, I think it began a long time ago, Ray. You like hockey, after all. And maple syrup.' He leans down and kisses Ray, dry and quick, but his eyes flutter shut as he does it.
'What if I start saying "sorey"?'
'I'll buy you a hat.'
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Ray makes a token attempt to free his hands, but Fraser clasps them tighter and pushes harder against them like Ray knew he would. Ray laughs and does it again. He wonders when love became this easy, this good.
'And anyway, one Inuit story doesn't mean I'm gonna, like, take up curling or anything.'
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Fraser's breath on his ear is distracting enough that all Ray can say to that is 'Uh.'
'And I'm almost certain I heard you making tactical suggestions to the television last week.'
He can't get words out any more, can't do anything except thrust up against the warm pressure of Fraser's hips, because apparently part of being Canadian is having extra - well, Fraser would call it stamina. Must be all that healthy living.
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The rest of it was just a bonus, all the more precious for being unexpected, and as they push away the cold with fire and blankets and hands and nearness, Ray can't imagine being anywhere else.
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The unbelievable, unexpected gift of Fraser saying, yes, yes, Ray, I choose you, too, come live with me.
Fraser releases pressure on Ray's hands for a brief second, just long enough for Ray to break free of his clasp. He slides his fingers through Fraser's hair, tangling them in soft curls grown longer by necessity in winter (one of the good things about the cold, Ray never hesitates to mention). Fraser lets go a breathless sigh. Ray finds Fraser's mouth and breathes it back to him.
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