Title: Scent of a Woman

Fandom: Due South

Pairing: Benton Fraser/Ray Vecchio

Author: gayvecchio

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1,477 

Content notes: None

Summary: Ray smells flowers, Fraser is suspicious. 

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. 

Written for Challenge 517 - Flower

Ray smelled like flowers. 

Fraser noticed it as soon as he slid into the Riv one afternoon. His nostrils flared at the unexpected fragrance – Ray typically smelled of sandalwood and citrus, the subtle peppery notes of his expensive cologne. 

It wasn't Francesca's perfume, nor Maria's, nor his mother's. He was well acquainted enough with the women in Ray's life to know their signature scents. This was not one of them. 

But… it was familiar. Fraser had smelled it before. But where? And who was this mystery woman Ray had gotten close enough to to be branded so strongly with her scent? 

“Everything okay, Benny?”

Fraser jerked his head toward Ray. “Yes. Why do you ask?” 

“That's some grip you got there.” Ray nodded to Fraser's lap, where his fingers were wrapped tightly around the brim of his Stetson. “Better be careful, or we'll have to go back for your spare.” His lips twitched. 

Fraser's chest fluttered; the way it always did when Ray smiled at him. But then a wave of gardenia wafted toward him, and he frowned. 

“Did you do anything special for lunch?” Fraser asked. Usually, they would’ve had lunch together, but Fraser had been tied up with work at the Consulate. 

Ray shrugged. “Grabbed a sandwich.” 

“From where?” 

“Some new place in the mall.”

“The mall?” Fraser arched his brows. Ray hated the mall. 

“I had to pick up something for Ma.”

“Oh?” 

“Birthday gift for her friend, Alice.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. A package wrapped in pink paper with gold ribbon sat on the backseat. A small pink bag was next to it. “Had to special order the right size or something.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I got attacked by a trigger-happy perfume lady for my troubles.” 

“Oh.” Fraser brightened. Oh. Well. That explained everything. It wasn’t a secret rendezvous with a mystery woman that left Ray smelling this way, but a good deed for his mother. “You’re a good son, Ray.” 

Ray looked at him sideways, a somewhat bemused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Fraser beamed, shoulders relaxing. He would hate to think that Ray might’ve felt the need to conceal a relationship from him. That’s why it was a relief to know that wasn’t the case after all. Otherwise, of course, he would be perfectly happy for Ray to find someone. Absolutely. 

It was about their friendship. Plain and simple. 

* 

A couple of weeks later, Ray came over with a pizza and plans to listen to a game on Fraser’s radio. 

“Hey, Benny,” Ray greeted, walking in after a perfunctory knock. 

Looking up from where he was tuning the radio, Fraser smiled. “Hello, Ray!” 

His brow pinched as Ray walked by him to set the pizza on the table. Cocking his head, Fraser sniffed the air. There, under the vibrant aroma of garlic, herbs, and tomato, was the scent of flowers. 

Abandoning the radio, Fraser drifted behind Ray, the frown pulling deeper between his brows. 

“Hey, paws off!” Ray said to Diefenbaker, who had jumped up to the table, nose edging at the pizza box. 

While Ray was distracted trying to keep the food out of Dief’s reach, Fraser leaned in close, taking a deep breath at the back of Ray’s neck. 

Gardenias. 

It wasn’t the first time since that day in the car that Fraser had detected the scent on Ray, but he had reasoned that the perfume had just lingered; its strong aroma perhaps spreading to some of Ray’s other clothes. 

But surely it would’ve faded by now. No, this was fresh.

He closed his eyes, a scene unfolding before him – Ray returning to the mall and chatting up the perfume lady, turning up the charm and giving her that special smile of his, as Fraser had witnessed him do before with women. They would have exchanged phone numbers, made a date, perhaps they – 

“Whoa, Benny! You can’t wait either?” 

Eyes snapping open, Fraser jerked back. “Hm?” 

Ray smirked. “I’m used to getting mauled by the wolf when I’m carrying food, but you usually have a bit more manners.” 

Fraser tried to smile, but it felt brittle. 

“What’s wrong?” Ray frowned, dropping his guard from the pizza box. Dief took full advantage, snatching up a slice. 

Fraser cleared his throat and took a breath. “Have you been back to the mall recently?” 

“No.” His brow crinkled. “Why?” 

Moving to the window, Fraser cracked it open. The cloying scent was starting to give him a headache. “I’m sorry, Ray. You’re entitled to your privacy, of course. I have no right to ask.” 

“Ask what?” Ray said, arms flinging out. “I need to actually hear a question before I decide if you have a right to ask it or not.”

Fraser briefly stuck his head out the window and took in a noseful of the not-so-fresh Chicago air. “All right.” He turned to Ray. “A question: what’s her name?” 

Ray looked at him with a blank expression. “Whose name?” 

Letting out a huff, Fraser raked his hand through his hair. “The woman, Ray.” 

“There’s a woman?” Ray glanced around as if looking for this said woman. “What woman?” 

Fraser crossed his arms over his chest. “The one who evidently wears gardenia perfume.” 

Ray froze, eyes going wide. He turned his head, pressing his nose against his own shoulder. “Oh, jeez.” He sighed, eyes squeezing closed, head dipping – the expression of a man who had clearly been exposed. 

Fraser shifted, shoulders pulling back, standing up straighter against the caving feeling in his stomach. So there was someone after all. “As I said, you’re entitled to your privacy. If you don’t wish to share the identity of the woman you’re seeing, that is your right. But as your friend, I –” 

Ray began to laugh, and Fraser’s mouth snapped closed with a frown. “Ray?” 

His shoulders were shaking, face turning a bit red. “Oh man,” he muttered, shaking his head. Shining green eyes looked up at Fraser. “You want to know who the woman is, Benny? The woman who wears gardenia perfume?” 

Fraser stroked his brow. “Well… only if you feel comfortable telling me, Ray.” 

Ray stared at him for a beat. “It’s you.” 

Fraser blinked, lips parting. “Pardon?” 

He sucked in a surprised breath as Ray took a deep stride forward, leaning in close. “Go ahead, get a good whiff. Maybe it’ll spark your memory.” 

Heart racing suddenly, Fraser tried to steady himself as his head dipped toward Ray, nose brushing against his neck. He gasped, flooded with the vision of himself walking into the fine mist as it left the bottle, shaking out the long, red hair over his shoulders, the swoosh of the skirt against his legs. 

Oh. He should’ve remembered, but he just hadn’t been quite able to place where he’d smelled it before.

Ms. Fraser. 

Fraser peered up to look into Ray’s eyes, but they were closed. 

“As soon as that woman sprayed the stuff into my face, it was like I was right back there in that gym – disco ball blinding me, Blondie blaring in my ears…dancing with you,” Ray murmured. 

Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow, Ray continued, “So, I grabbed a bottle. Didn’t really think about it. And every time I get a whiff of the stuff, I’m right back there. And I like it. I like thinking about dancing with you.” Ray’s shoulders hunched as if shielding himself from the confession. He opened his eyes, but his gaze skirted away from Fraser immediately, lips pressing into a hard line. 

Fraser watched the muscles twitch in Ray's jaw, the tension in his body. It was a stark contrast from the loose-limbed movements he'd shown on the dance floor. A smile edged at the corner of Fraser's lips, thinking of the spinning and twirling with Ray, moving together in easy harmony. It had felt so natural. And for a brief moment, even in the midst of an investigation, it had been fun.

Reaching out, he placed his hand on Ray's shoulder. “I like thinking about dancing with you, too, Ray,” Fraser said. “It’s a fond memory.” 

Ray’s eyes flicked to Fraser, filled with a guarded hope. “Yeah?” 

Fraser held his smile and walked over to the radio, twisting the dial. The low murmur of sports commentators shifted into static before the swell of slow, dreamy music filtered from the speaker; the sound of Glen Miller’s Moonlight Serenade. 

Fraser looked back over to Ray and held out his hand. “Would you dance with me, Ray?” 

Ray chuckled. “Well, it’s not Blondie, but it’ll do.” 

Fraser curled his fingers around Ray’s hand as it settled into his palm and pulled him close. 

Their bodies pressed together, hands clasped. Head resting on Ray’s shoulder, Fraser said, “It really is a lovely scent.” 

Ray’s laugh vibrated against Fraser’s chest. “Yeah. I like it too.”