A Little Steve McQueen
Written because this picture and this idea wouldn't leave my head. Blame it on the cock. It had to happen. Un-beta'ed.
Fraser knocked on Ray's door with a certain air of anticipation. He had managed to buy what he considered to be the perfect gift for Ray on his birthday, and felt somewhat like a giddy child in front of a carnival.
"Fraser! Buddy! C'mon in, I'm almost done here." Ray waved him in, his arms halfway into his outer shirt. They were to go out to Ray's favorite restaurant ("It's a dive, but it's my dive, and I get to pick, 'cause it's my birthday"), and Ray had the same air of anticipation as Fraser.
Fraser walked in and rubbed his eyebrow before extending the arm with the package. "Happy Birthday, Ray."
"What's that? Hey, you didn't have to do that!" Ray grinned even as he tore into the package and undid the careful half hour Fraser had spent wrapping it in under five seconds. "Holy shit, Frase!"
"Do you like it?" Fraser locked his hands behind his back and attempted to stand still.
"It's fantastic! Where'd you get it?" Ray was already flipping through the many photos of Steve McQueen, his mouth agape at all the colorful and black and white pictures gracing the pages.
"Well, Ray, any bookstore you go into does, generally, have an assortment of various unexpected --"
"What the fuck." Ray's tone had gone from excited to severely surprised in a very small amount of time. Fraser stopped his flow of words.
Ray pushed the book into Fraser's hands, holding the page open with a finger. "Fraser, what am I seeing?"
Fraser looked down. The picture was black and white, and to his eye, there was nothing out of the ordinary about it, apart from the slightly alarming angle of the camera, making Steve McQueen's handsome face look ten times as large as the rest of his body.
"Well, Ray, I believe that Steve McQueen is standing by a stream, wearing a cardigan and- oh. Oh, I see. He isn't holding a cigarette."
"No. What is that in his hands?"
"I believe, uh--" Fraser scratched a sudden itch underneath his collar. "I believe that would be his, um, penis."
"He's holding his dick out."
"He's walking the dog."
"If you wish."
"He's smoking his own cock."
"As it were."
"He's letting it air out."
"Yes, it would appear so."
"I'm looking at Steve McQueen's cock."
"Yes, Ray, in fact, we both are."
"It's right there, Fraser."
Fraser was beginning to sense that something other than surprise was coloring Ray's words. "Do you- is there a particular problem with that, Ray?" he asked carefully, trying not to wake up anything out of the ordinary.
"No! It's just-- that's Steve McQueen." Ray's finger pointed towards the man's torso. "And that is his cock." Ray's finger ghosted over the image. "It's in his hands, and he's just-- standing there. With his dick out."
Fraser looked at Ray carefully. Something was not right, and he was certain he was missing the very heart of Ray's conundrum. He opted for agreement once more. "Yes, he is."
"Huh." Ray's gaze never wavered from the page. He cleared his throat, he scratched his face, and he stepped minutely away from Fraser. "I just- never thought- I... well, anyway. Thanks, Frase." Ray snapped the book shut and proceeded to walk into the living room, laying the book down on the coffee table with extra care.
"You're- you're welcome, Ray." Fraser furrowed his eyebrows and licked his drying lips. "I- Ray, I sense that there's something bothering you about that picture, and I was just-"
"Nope, nothing at all. C'mon, let's get going." Ray grabbed his keys and his cell phone and was almost out the door, when he stopped with his hand on the door knob. "It's just that-- it's Steve McQueen, you know, Frase?"
Fraser nodded, even though Ray had his back to him.
"He's- he was- well, I--" Ray's hand lifted to scratch at the back of his head again, the short hairs there bristling at the touch. "He's my hero, you know? I had this whole- this whole hero worship thing goin' on when I was a kid, right?"
He was still facing away from Fraser, which Fraser sensed to be Ray's defense mechanism of the moment. Fraser made an encouraging sound, and Ray continued.
"I- I guess I kinda maybe had a crush on him, and-"
Something suddenly lodged inside Fraser's throat and the only way to get rid of it seemed to be coughing up half of his lung. His sides heaved as he attempted to right himself, and he only came to when Ray's hand landed on his back in a series of well-timed thumps.
"Hey, Fraser! You all right?" Ray was a little too close now, and Fraser made himself look up and, blinking away the tears accumulated in his eyes, nodded. He was wheezing too hard to talk, but Ray seemed reassured enough to stop beating his back. However, not enough to move away. Fraser blinked, and then Ray's lips transformed into a sly grin and he winked.
"Come on, Frase. We can talk all about my childhood crushes in the car. It's my birthday, and I miss my dive. Up for it?"
Fraser straightened up and cracked his neck. "Oh, yes, Ray. Very much so."