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butterflyTitle: The Band Played On (Strange Bedfellows)
Summary: Ray's getting tired of waking up lonely.
Pairing: Ray/Stella, mostly
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Fourth part in a twenty-four part series. They are, in essence, post-episode ficlets from RayK's perspective.
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Well, there's the computer I'm writing on. I also have a moderate collection of books. And... ah, yes, I own none of the characters mentioned in this story. That would be Alliance Atlantis and the Pauls.
It's supposed to get better. That is what everyone says, that is what everyone knows. After a while, he'll just... get over it. He'll stop waking up in the middle of the night wondering why Stella isn't tucked up next to him. He won't pull out two mugs for coffee in the morning. He won't put skim milk into the cart when he goes to the store.
He'll adjust and his body'll get used to being cold.
Yeah, right.
Just because people say something don't mean they mean it.
He'd been two decisions away from spending last night with Stella. With a vulnerable, needy Stella.
And it would've been wrong, because she'd have been fucking him to keep her failure away. At the end, when it got really bad, he'd always been able to tell when Stella was having sex with him and when she was using him to work out... fear and anger and need. It hadn't felt like sleeping with his wife -- he'd felt like he was a mail clerk or something, someone that the hot attorney fucked for fun and laughs and no commitment. Cheap and easy, that was Ray Kowalski.
But he hadn't been, and here he was, awake and alone and cold.
It sucked.
Maybe if they hadn't danced, hadn't kissed, hadn't been so close to falling right back to where they'd been two years ago...
Two years ago, yeah -- when it hadn't been about love, hadn't been about forever, it'd just been about Stella wanting someone safe to get off with. Because she knew, she knew that no matter how tough and dangerous a rebel Ray played, he'd cut out his own heart before he'd hurt her.
When he thought about it, two years ago had sucked, too. Had to go further back, further than he'd realized. Maybe four years ago, when they'd actually tried couples therapy, which had lasted all of two months before Stella... before they'd realized that it was just stupid.
Okay, go back seven years, when Stella still thought it was hot to be married to a cop. Fuck, had it really been seven years since she'd said that? He could still remember it like yesterday -- her licking his thumb and telling him that she swore she could taste gunpowder.
She'd been bullshitting him, he knew that. For one thing, she'd tried that on days when he'd ridden desk. For another, no way in hell could Stella taste that -- she couldn't even tell quality chocolate from Hershey's. Refined palate, his ass.
Fraser, though... Ray was willing to bet that Fraser could tell. Fraser could probably lick Ray's palm and figure when the gun had been fired, plus remind him what he'd had for lunch.
Of course, from how things had been so far, that would probably partly be because Fraser would have been at lunch with him. When had he ever made a friend so fast? And it wasn't like Fraser was the friendliest guy -- oh, he was polite, but that ain't the same thing. Not by a long shot.
Maybe he should've let Fraser do the friends-thing last night. At then, he'd have woken up with good memories.
He'd just have to say yes next time. Still, not like there was a rush.
Not like Fraser was going anywhere.
~fade to black~
Summary: Ray's getting tired of waking up lonely.
Pairing: Ray/Stella, mostly
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Fourth part in a twenty-four part series. They are, in essence, post-episode ficlets from RayK's perspective.
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Well, there's the computer I'm writing on. I also have a moderate collection of books. And... ah, yes, I own none of the characters mentioned in this story. That would be Alliance Atlantis and the Pauls.
It's supposed to get better. That is what everyone says, that is what everyone knows. After a while, he'll just... get over it. He'll stop waking up in the middle of the night wondering why Stella isn't tucked up next to him. He won't pull out two mugs for coffee in the morning. He won't put skim milk into the cart when he goes to the store.
He'll adjust and his body'll get used to being cold.
Yeah, right.
Just because people say something don't mean they mean it.
He'd been two decisions away from spending last night with Stella. With a vulnerable, needy Stella.
And it would've been wrong, because she'd have been fucking him to keep her failure away. At the end, when it got really bad, he'd always been able to tell when Stella was having sex with him and when she was using him to work out... fear and anger and need. It hadn't felt like sleeping with his wife -- he'd felt like he was a mail clerk or something, someone that the hot attorney fucked for fun and laughs and no commitment. Cheap and easy, that was Ray Kowalski.
But he hadn't been, and here he was, awake and alone and cold.
It sucked.
Maybe if they hadn't danced, hadn't kissed, hadn't been so close to falling right back to where they'd been two years ago...
Two years ago, yeah -- when it hadn't been about love, hadn't been about forever, it'd just been about Stella wanting someone safe to get off with. Because she knew, she knew that no matter how tough and dangerous a rebel Ray played, he'd cut out his own heart before he'd hurt her.
When he thought about it, two years ago had sucked, too. Had to go further back, further than he'd realized. Maybe four years ago, when they'd actually tried couples therapy, which had lasted all of two months before Stella... before they'd realized that it was just stupid.
Okay, go back seven years, when Stella still thought it was hot to be married to a cop. Fuck, had it really been seven years since she'd said that? He could still remember it like yesterday -- her licking his thumb and telling him that she swore she could taste gunpowder.
She'd been bullshitting him, he knew that. For one thing, she'd tried that on days when he'd ridden desk. For another, no way in hell could Stella taste that -- she couldn't even tell quality chocolate from Hershey's. Refined palate, his ass.
Fraser, though... Ray was willing to bet that Fraser could tell. Fraser could probably lick Ray's palm and figure when the gun had been fired, plus remind him what he'd had for lunch.
Of course, from how things had been so far, that would probably partly be because Fraser would have been at lunch with him. When had he ever made a friend so fast? And it wasn't like Fraser was the friendliest guy -- oh, he was polite, but that ain't the same thing. Not by a long shot.
Maybe he should've let Fraser do the friends-thing last night. At then, he'd have woken up with good memories.
He'd just have to say yes next time. Still, not like there was a rush.
Not like Fraser was going anywhere.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2004-04-13 01:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-04-14 01:05 am (UTC)And thank you kindly for the reply.