(no subject)

[not_that_ray]

He's already moved the stack once. It doesn't stop him from moving it again. From one side of the desk to the other. This time though he takes the time to rifle through the layers, looking not just under but between the loose sheets of paper. The stack hemorrhages paper clips and scraps of small scribblings as he does so. Some land on his lap. Others fall onto the floor or into the trash can.

"Gotta..."

The whole thing teeters. Ray is, of course, oblivious. It's abandoned in favor of the top drawer of his desk. He yanks it open and thrusts his hand in, moving the mess inside around with no rhyme or reason. The contents haven't changed since the last time he looked five minutes ago.

"... be here..."

He slams it home, causing the entire desk to stagger. The vibration in turn causes the precariously perched collection of papers to slide in every direction. His eyes grow to the size of saucers as he dives for the unwieldy monster.

"Shit!"

The paperwork just seems to glide right past his hands, his efforts mocked.

From one small mess to one gigantic mess. Nice, Ray. Nice.

"... somewhere," he breathes out in defeat.

Comments

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

Which seems to be an uncanny cue for Fraser to make his customary morning appearance, stopping just shy of the paper blizzard that's now fluttering down around him near his Strathcona-booted feet. He says nothing as he glances down, then looks back up at his partner, but the slight lift of his eyebrows asks the inevitable question anyway.

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

He throws up his hand, his fingers straight and palm faced out. The jerky motion screams 'stop'.

"I got it. S'under control," he insists. The tone of his voice says it's anything but.

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

Fraser can't take a hint. "Ray--"

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"No."

He kicks his foot out suddenly. The unfortunate victims of his temper go flying.

"Okay?"

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

There's no arguing with him when he's like this. The Mountie simply looks at him, with an expression that hints that he'll regret asking him to shut up in approximately three minutes' time. "Understood."

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

A deep breath is drawn in. And let out slowly. When there's no more air left in his lungs, he throws his head to the side and there's an audible 'crack'. He spends another minute or so staring down at the papers without movement or comment.

"Fraser, you haven't -"

He cuts himself off, sounding a little on the sheepish side.

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

He studies him for a moment, as if debating whether those words negate his earlier beratement for him to shut up. He ventures the query anyway. "I haven't what, Ray?"

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"You haven't seen my glasses anywhere, have ya?"

A more miserable creature there never was.

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

"They're in the glove compartment of your car, where you put them yesterday morning." That said, he places his Stetson on the chair opposing Ray's desk, and crouches to start picking the scattered papers from the floor.

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

A brief nod; then he gets to his feet, replacing the hat on his head in anticipation of their departure. Then he looks around for Diefenbaker, who seems conspicuous by his absence. "Diefenbaker," he says sharply-- even though they both know he's deaf as a post. He hopes he's not attempting to work his lupine charms on Francesca in order to obtain a doughnut again.

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"Fraser," he ventures to remind, a small smirk cracking the rather sour looking expression. "Hate to state the obvious, buddy-"

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

It's his turn to hold up a finger, forcing his friend to halt. He takes a few steps past Ray's desk, takes an abrupt right turn, then pokes his head around the corner.

The suspect is sitting there, attempting to look innocent-- if that's even possible for a wolf-- but instead looking exceedingly pleased with himself.

Fraser narrows his eyes at him. Diefenbaker tilts his head, then barks, perhaps in protest. "Your story might have a little more validity to it if you didn't have chocolate frosting all over your muzzle."

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray raises a loosely fisted hand to his mouth. No, that's not chuckling he's trying to suppress. No, not at all.

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

"Whuf," comes the retort. He didn't ASK for it, really. The nice lady gave it to him! That totally makes it not his fault! It was just ... there!

Fraser raises a hand, not taken in for a moment. "I won't have to be the one explaining your gaining another five pounds to the veterinarian next week." He turns away from his lupine companion, then looks back over his shoulder. "Are you coming?"

Is it possible for a wolf to glare? Diefenbaker contemplates this seriously for a moment.

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray rounds the table and steps in line with the wolf, seemingly oblivious to Fraser's tone of voice. "Hey Dief, you didn't save me any. What's up with that?"

Two peas in a pod.

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

Diefenbaker's staunch look turns into an unmistakable grin, his tongue lolling from his mouth. Well, his replying bark says. You weren't there. You'll just have to be faster next time.

Fraser's eyes lift ceilingward ever so briefly, hidden under the Stetson's broad brim.

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"Hey. Was pushin' paper." As if that explains it all.

"Next time, keep your ol' pal in mind. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

Conversation thoroughly diverted.

Painfully.

Fraser almost slams his head on the GTO's dashboard, spared only by his quick reflexes. Diefenbaker ends up between them in the front seat. Behind, annoyed Chicago motorists slam their hands on the horn. He adjusts his red uniform, and looks across at his partner, not appearing perturbed in the least. "The girl in Human Resources, Ray." As if he should have been paying attention and following this inexplicable tangent all along.

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Furious to deflated in four point five seconds. Ray just stares at him for a moment, oblivious to the protesting going on behind him.

"Right. I knew that."

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

Ray's anger can be a dangerous thing; explosive and unpredictable. Fraser settles back into the seat, pushing Diefenbaker's face out of his. Diefenbaker isn't to be denied, and he turns his sloppy attentions on Ray instead. "Of course you did, Ray."

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

Ray half turns, trying to evade the suddenly affectionate tongue. "Yeah, yeah, I love you too, Dief."

The cacophony of sound finally break in on his little world. "I guess I should actually drive the car."

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

Fraser seems oblivious to the noise. He's very good at that. "Well, unless you'd prefer to walk."

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

"You know what-"

Sounds like a damn good idea all of a sudden. Not more than a mile from the precinct, Ray pulls the GTO out of traffic and up to the curb.

"Lets do it."

Impulsiveness has a name. And that name is Ray.

[chicagomountie.livejournal.com]

"The range is sixteen blocks from here, Ray," Fraser notes, as he plucks his Stetson from the dash. It's not a hike that bothers him, as someone used to trekking across the glacial plains, but Ray's idea of working out usually involves lifting the car hood to check the oil.

[not-vecchio.livejournal.com]

The comment doesn't stop him from exiting the car. "And Anthony's is three blocks from here," he adds.