Hawks and Hands, The Bodyguard

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My table

Claim: due South, Fraser/Kowalski
Title: Hawks and Hands
Author: Dira Sudis, on LJ dsudis
Characters: Fraser, Ray, the NHL
Prompt: 33. Crossover
Rating: NC-17
Length: epic
Brief summary: This is the Hockey AU. I'm not sure if that really counts as a crossover, but I generally hate crossovers, so sue me *g* If you are a due South type of person, and you typically shy away from AUs, you must immediately devote several days of your life to this story. It’s amazingly complex, huge in scope, and about two very excellent things in the world, due South and HOCKEY. Basically, Ray is a journeyman forward who thinks his career is over, and Fraser is a solid defenseman just traded to Chicago from Edmonton. Much drama ensues, Smithbauer makes a number appearances, Ray and Fraser have lots and lots of really amazing sex. I avoided this fic for a long time because the premise kind of scared me off, but I couldn’t stop reading for about three days once I started. You will not be disappointed. This is one of the essential stories of the fandom.


"--Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, New York, Quebec, Boston. And then home to Chicago again afterward, obviously."

Ray blinked, staring at Fraser. His eyes had opened again on Philadelphia, and they were really dark blue, and holy hell, he'd remembered Pittsburgh, which Ray didn't even always. He'd only played a couple of games there, while they were getting the paperwork done to send him on to Philly and complete the three-way deal. The warmth of Fraser's hand pressing down on his knuckles spread all through him, and he could feel himself smiling stupidly.

"Jesus," he said after a second, "I mean--Edmonton, Chicago, I got you too, but..."

Fraser's eyebrow arched, so what the hell, not like he had any pride left in front of this guy anyway. Ray looked down at his split knuckles, though he couldn't actually see them under Fraser's fingers pressing down and the blood seeping up through the Kleenex on his fucked-up useless hand. He shrugged and said, "Dunno why you remember where a washed-up old scrapper used to play."

Fraser laid a little shoulder on him without letting go of his hand. Ray automatically pushed back, but Fraser wouldn't quit and then they were going at it, hips and shoulders, all clean hits here aside from the totally illegal hold Fraser had on his hand, until finally Fraser slammed him solidly up against the wall and there was a throat-clearing noise from down the hall.

Link to the story: Hawks and Hands

Claim: due South, Fraser/Kowalski
Title: The Bodyguard
Author: Speranza, on LJ cesperanza
Characters: Fraser, Ray, Olga, the usual suspects
Prompt: 45. Trapped
Rating: NC-17
Length: long
Brief summary: Woohoo, another Speranza! I had forgotten how good this story was until I was rereading everything by Speranza last month, and read this again. Wow. Pretty much blows me away. Anyway, the basic premise is that Fraser is responsible for guarding a Russian-born Canadian ballerina named Olga, who wants to get in his pants. Fraser pleads for Ray’s help, and in the midst of the chaos they discover secrets about each other and their own feelings. This story is wonderful, and the final sex scene is so scorchingly hot, it might possibly ignite your computer screen. Guh.


It's harassment, Fraser. It's illegal, it stinks --"

"It's embarrassing." Fraser's eyes were locked on the floor at his feet. "It's mainly just embarrassing, and I can live with that. No one's ever actually died of embarrassment, Ray, despite what they say."

"She's got no right to touch you," Ray said with quiet vehemence. "She's got no right to put you in that kind of position--"

Fraser's eyes flicked up at him and then away again. "Yes, I know. They never do. But they do, and unless one is prepared to make a scene about it..." He trailed off and then gave an oddly un-Fraserish shrug. "Which I'm not. I think it's best to keep quiet about certain things, don't you?"

Fraser wasn't even looking at him, but still Ray felt the question like a loaded gun to the head. Fraser knew--Ray was sure that Fraser knew all about him, in the same quiet, perceptive way that Fraser seemed to know about everything. Not that Fraser'd ever said, or even insinuated--but it was there, sometimes, in the occasional strained look that passed between them, particularly when things got rough, or when somebody said something stupid like, "Ray, are you seeing anybody?" or "Fraser, I know the perfect girl for you." Then, sometimes, they would catch each other's eyes and look away, and Ray would start searching his desk for he didn't even know what, or Fraser would sit down and start furiously typing at a keyboard, spine stiff and fingers flying.

But this, though--this was as explicit as Fraser'd probably ever get on the subject. You know why I can't, Fraser was saying, in his own Fraser-evasive way. You of all people know why I can't make a fuss, Ray, so please, don't make this harder than it is.

Link to the story:The Bodyguard