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Silent Hopes and Dreams
//Absolutely fucking beautiful//, I think, staring at Fraser covertly
over the accumulated folders on my overflowing desk. Beautiful, yes, handsome,
attractive, no, gorgeous... running out of ad--ahem--adjectives (hey, I
bet you thought I didn't know that word!), I look away quickly when he
moves, putting down the files in his hands. 'Cause if he catches me following
his every move again (for the fifth time this week, thank you very much),
he might start getting suspicious, and I don't want that--
Dief yips quietly and raises his head hopefully, clearly expecting a walk. Eight hours of constant paperwork, phone calls, a meeting with Welsh and some bad jokes by Huey and Dewey are too much to be overcome by a simple donut, handed down to him secretly while Fraser had been to the can ('urinating', good Lord!). Fine by me. God knows, I'd love to walk a little; I can't feel my butt any longer, and besides, my head hurts and my eyes are burning. Had nothing for lunch, not even a damn burger or something; there just wasn't time. Idiotic. Just what my stomach needs - new reasons to develop an ulcer or whatever you get from too much coffee and nothing substantial apart from a handful of M&Ms (and the earlier donut), but...
//Kissing Fraser would be even better than dinner, Kowalski. Lord, better than dinner, lunch and breakfast combined//, I think, looking at Fraser's moving lips, trying in vain to understand what he's saying. //My God, I'm doing it again!// Needless to say, I blush like a damn fucking teenager and look away as fast as possible. //Oo-hoo, Frase caught me starin' again.// Pushing away the embarrassing turn my thoughts have taken -- again --, I get the Mountie to repeat his question.
Quietly, politely, Fraser tries again. "Ray, would you like to have dinner with me?" So I nod, like the pathetic fool I am, and hope that I'll survive a late night dinner in a crowded little restaurant, with him sitting close enough to touch, only-- That's something I can't do. Unless I finally take heart and tell him how I feel. Valiantly hoping he wouldn't get that embarrassed, uncomfortable look I know so well, from each and every time Frannie or another one of those woman who fall all over him tries to corner him. Wouldn't hit me (okay, Frase couldn't do that, ever), wouldn't leave... hell, wouldn't break my heart like Stella did. 'xcept my heart's already his, more his than Stella's ever was mine. You know, she never trusted me enough to give me such a great part of herself -- but the Mountie did, crazy guy that he is, the very day we met.
Zonked and staring stupidly at Fraser's face like I am, it takes me almost a minute to react to the feel of his soft lips touching mine, and a husky voice whispering of love as I drown in Ben's warm blue eyes.
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