[ficlet: radio chatter, kowalski/vecchio, due South]
One more today, for the Porn Battle!
| radio chatter|| due South|| kowalski/vecchio || rated r |
Radio Chatter
Kowalski's been out on a stakeout for sixteen hours, trapped in his car with two federal agents who've been throwing their weight around ever since they got called in to help out with this latest double-murder. Ray can tell when Kowalski comes stomping through the bullpen that he's in a pissy mood. His hair is all messed up, face shadowed by a day's growth of a beard, eyes tired but glowing manic-bright. And he's scowling, tense and narrow-eyed, all that energy bottled up and thrumming through his lean, wiry body.
Kowalski and Ray have been partners for a little over a year. Ray knows Kowalski's moods like he knows the Sox's bullpen, and while they don't get in fights over Stella or certain Mounties of their acquaintance anymore, they still bicker because Kowalski is impossible and acts like a cranky toddler when he's tired, and okay--maybe Ray has a temper and a tendency to complain just a little.
But Ray knows Kowalski, and right now, Kowalski's mood is in triple-A dangerous bad territory. Which is why Ray doesn't say anything about Kowalski's clothes--even more wrinkled than usual--or the fact one of his boots is unlaced, or that he has something that looks kind of like wing sauce in his hair.
"Mother fucking assholes," Kowalski mutters, falling into his seat. He rubs a hand over his face, fixes Ray with a look. "Why weren't you there, anyway? You're my fucking partner. These feds just mess shit up and one of them spilled an Icee in my car, Vecchio, who the fuck drinks an Icee?"
"You did," Ray can't help but point out. "Few weeks ago. You got one at the QuickTrip."
Kowalski stares at him and then growls, "Not buddies, you're supposed to just agree that they suck. And besides, I didn't spill it in your car, did I?"
"No. But you did--"
"If you say drive my car in a lake I am going to kick you in the head," Kowalski threatens, and that had been what Ray was going to say, actually.
"Kowalski, at some point? You're gonna actually have to kick me in the head, because you say that a lot and you've never actually done it. I don't even think you can." Ray stands up, grabbing his jacket. "Come on. You look like shit. Let's go get something to eat."
Kowalski follows him, and they go to a diner a few blocks from Kowalski's apartment. And Kowalski rants and rants, waving his hands around, his voice loud and brash. And Ray just sits there and makes non-committal noises, "Mmm," and "Yeah," and some placating, committal ones. "Yes, Stanley, anyone who says Gretzky is their favorite hockey player is definitely a poser."
And usually this works, all the venting, but when they leave Kowalski is still wound tighter than a cheap watch. So Ray drives Kowalski home 'cause he drove to the diner, and goes upstairs, idly flipping through a four month old Sports Illustrated while Kowalski takes a shower. He figures he'll drive Kowalski back to the station so Kowalski can get his car. Ray knows that no matter how tired he gets, he never wants to leave his car at the 2-7. You'd think a police station would be a safe place to leave a car, but you'd be wrong about that.
What Ray does not figure Kowalski will do is get out of the shower, come out to the living room wearing nothing but a faded blue towel around his lean hips, and shove Ray against the wall. For half a second, Ray thinks Kowalski is going to try and fight him, or maybe kick him in the head to prove that he can.
Except that Kowalski starts kissing him, so maybe not.
Kowalski is still all wet from the shower, his wiry body pressing up against Ray, and the fabric of Ray's shirt is growing damp beneath the assault. And Ray is barely aware of how Kowalski's body is practically shaking against him, because all the kissing is making it hard to think. Ray opens his mouth and Kowalski must assume he wants to say something (which, yes, he does), because Kowalski makes a noise like a growl and his tongue is suddenly halfway down Ray's throat.
"What?" Kowalski mutters a few heated seconds later, and the towel has slipped and Kowalski is now pinning him to the wall, naked. His hands are tugging at Ray's shirt, damp fingers sliding beneath to curl around the leather of Ray's belt. "You got something to say?" He is mouthing Ray's neck now, hitting that perfect spot that makes Ray shiver, and Kowalski is pushing up against him, his cock hard, rubbing it against Ray's still-clothed hip. "Do you? Got something to say to me?" Kowalski kisses him before Ray can answer, so Ray just grabs the back of Kowalski's neck and nods.
Kowalski's fingers are working at his belt. "Yeah?" he pants, struggling with the buttons, easing the zipper down slowly. "What is it? Go on. What?" Kowalski looks up, face defiant, as if he's ready for Ray to shout at him or sock him or try and kick him in the head.
Just as Kowalski's fingers slip inside his boxers to find his cock, Ray grins, tugs Kowalski forward, and kisses him back. "About fucking time, Stanley," he says, and sees Kowalski's slow, pleased smile before Ray kisses him.
| radio chatter|| due South|| kowalski/vecchio || rated r |
Radio Chatter
Kowalski's been out on a stakeout for sixteen hours, trapped in his car with two federal agents who've been throwing their weight around ever since they got called in to help out with this latest double-murder. Ray can tell when Kowalski comes stomping through the bullpen that he's in a pissy mood. His hair is all messed up, face shadowed by a day's growth of a beard, eyes tired but glowing manic-bright. And he's scowling, tense and narrow-eyed, all that energy bottled up and thrumming through his lean, wiry body.
Kowalski and Ray have been partners for a little over a year. Ray knows Kowalski's moods like he knows the Sox's bullpen, and while they don't get in fights over Stella or certain Mounties of their acquaintance anymore, they still bicker because Kowalski is impossible and acts like a cranky toddler when he's tired, and okay--maybe Ray has a temper and a tendency to complain just a little.
But Ray knows Kowalski, and right now, Kowalski's mood is in triple-A dangerous bad territory. Which is why Ray doesn't say anything about Kowalski's clothes--even more wrinkled than usual--or the fact one of his boots is unlaced, or that he has something that looks kind of like wing sauce in his hair.
"Mother fucking assholes," Kowalski mutters, falling into his seat. He rubs a hand over his face, fixes Ray with a look. "Why weren't you there, anyway? You're my fucking partner. These feds just mess shit up and one of them spilled an Icee in my car, Vecchio, who the fuck drinks an Icee?"
"You did," Ray can't help but point out. "Few weeks ago. You got one at the QuickTrip."
Kowalski stares at him and then growls, "Not buddies, you're supposed to just agree that they suck. And besides, I didn't spill it in your car, did I?"
"No. But you did--"
"If you say drive my car in a lake I am going to kick you in the head," Kowalski threatens, and that had been what Ray was going to say, actually.
"Kowalski, at some point? You're gonna actually have to kick me in the head, because you say that a lot and you've never actually done it. I don't even think you can." Ray stands up, grabbing his jacket. "Come on. You look like shit. Let's go get something to eat."
Kowalski follows him, and they go to a diner a few blocks from Kowalski's apartment. And Kowalski rants and rants, waving his hands around, his voice loud and brash. And Ray just sits there and makes non-committal noises, "Mmm," and "Yeah," and some placating, committal ones. "Yes, Stanley, anyone who says Gretzky is their favorite hockey player is definitely a poser."
And usually this works, all the venting, but when they leave Kowalski is still wound tighter than a cheap watch. So Ray drives Kowalski home 'cause he drove to the diner, and goes upstairs, idly flipping through a four month old Sports Illustrated while Kowalski takes a shower. He figures he'll drive Kowalski back to the station so Kowalski can get his car. Ray knows that no matter how tired he gets, he never wants to leave his car at the 2-7. You'd think a police station would be a safe place to leave a car, but you'd be wrong about that.
What Ray does not figure Kowalski will do is get out of the shower, come out to the living room wearing nothing but a faded blue towel around his lean hips, and shove Ray against the wall. For half a second, Ray thinks Kowalski is going to try and fight him, or maybe kick him in the head to prove that he can.
Except that Kowalski starts kissing him, so maybe not.
Kowalski is still all wet from the shower, his wiry body pressing up against Ray, and the fabric of Ray's shirt is growing damp beneath the assault. And Ray is barely aware of how Kowalski's body is practically shaking against him, because all the kissing is making it hard to think. Ray opens his mouth and Kowalski must assume he wants to say something (which, yes, he does), because Kowalski makes a noise like a growl and his tongue is suddenly halfway down Ray's throat.
"What?" Kowalski mutters a few heated seconds later, and the towel has slipped and Kowalski is now pinning him to the wall, naked. His hands are tugging at Ray's shirt, damp fingers sliding beneath to curl around the leather of Ray's belt. "You got something to say?" He is mouthing Ray's neck now, hitting that perfect spot that makes Ray shiver, and Kowalski is pushing up against him, his cock hard, rubbing it against Ray's still-clothed hip. "Do you? Got something to say to me?" Kowalski kisses him before Ray can answer, so Ray just grabs the back of Kowalski's neck and nods.
Kowalski's fingers are working at his belt. "Yeah?" he pants, struggling with the buttons, easing the zipper down slowly. "What is it? Go on. What?" Kowalski looks up, face defiant, as if he's ready for Ray to shout at him or sock him or try and kick him in the head.
Just as Kowalski's fingers slip inside his boxers to find his cock, Ray grins, tugs Kowalski forward, and kisses him back. "About fucking time, Stanley," he says, and sees Kowalski's slow, pleased smile before Ray kisses him.