video;

[dogsled]

[ The face that comes on screen is handsome, warm and charming, if a little knotted with some kind of concern. There's a point to all this, but right now he's just going to get on and talk, after kneading his eyebrow for a moment. ]

I was wondering if... I realize things have been quite terrible, recently, and therefore this question is perhaps not in the current mood of things, but I want to ask an, I suppose, unrelated question. No, I mean, I don't suppose. It is unrelated. [ He's waffling, and obviously nervous. ]

Traditions are important to all of us. I don't have many of my own. I suppose in my case it would be kinder to call them neuroses. Everything must be in its place, and if there are rules then they are there for a reason, and ought to be followed. In the case of tradition there is a certain degree of choice. You can abandon the traditions of home, or those of your parents, if you so choose, or perhaps adopt those of other cultures...

[ He's not really off topic. This is, surprisingly, what he's trying to talk about. ]

The Inuit don't really have a traditional marriage celebration, for example. Some absorbed the traditions of Christianity, over the years, but certainly there wasn't much. I suppose the kidnap of the bride could be considered a tradition but it's hardly appropriate, nor so widespread as...never mind.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is...so long as two people love each other, the traditions shouldn't matter, should they? Love doesn't come from gold rings, after all, it's only resembled by them. Although I do agree that the exchange is a beautiful tradition, it's no more correct than--an exchange of furs, for example, or the exchange of bird of paradise feathers by the tribes of Papua New Guinea.

Perhaps--perhaps it would be more comforting to know a little more about your own traditions, whatever they may be. Not necessarily in terms of the act of matrimony but...anything that would qualify, I suppose, as a relic of home. Are there things you simply have to do? Even such simple a thing as a bedtime ritual would count, I suppose.

Comments

[cuff]

[ He's trying. Adaptation is a two way street after all, and he's trying, trying to bear out this conversation for as long as humanely possible, but his insides are already bouncing off the walls, heart rate at a fever pitch, heel starting to bounce against the couch cushion like a rocket ready to take off. This is giving him the jitters and he's already a hot minute away from imagining himself taking a brisk walk through the kitchen and back again, knocking his head against the wall on his way. ]

You mean like a thing? Organizing a thing? Or organizing us? Cause I'm good with just us, you know that, right?

[dogsled]

A thing, Ray. A...An element of our marriage. I want it to mean something to both of us. I'll handle the exchange, but there's also the ceremony, if we have one at all, and the reception. People have expectations of some kind of party, I suspect, which isn't really my kind of thing.

[ Not to say they shouldn't have one, though. He looks at Ray imploringly. Fix this for him? ]

[cuff]

[ It's at that that Ray finally pops up back onto his feet - not out of anger but out of repressed nerves, running rampant through the whole of him. There's nothing he can do but bounce it out and walk back towards the kitchen, stalking around and shaking out his shoulders before diving into the fridge and pulling out a beer, which he promptly sets on the table, no actual inclination to open it. ]

Sure, sure- I can organize a thing. Because there's always a thing. Food, toasts, dancing, icing on the cake. But Ben, who the hell'd we even invite?

[dogsled]

Well...friends, I suppose. We do have friends, Ray. That nice young man Felix, for example. Jeff, Winry. I'm sure we could think of a few if we put our minds to it.

[ He watched Ray move, relieved at least that he was expelling some of his energy. It was a good thing. Stuck to the chair, he'd been beginning to look like he might explode. He tried to look encouraging, sitting slightly forward. ]

And I'm not asking you to ice the cake yourself.

[cuff]

[ At the mention of Felix, Ray lifts a suspicious eyebrow, though doesn't yet provide commentary on that particular conversation. And while he can think of a few more names off the top of his head, Ray still manages to wave a hand around. ] You really want Jeff there? Really? I mean c'mon, think about that one. He's a disaster waiting to happen and then some. He'll get you wasted again and then, we-

[ Stop the presses for a momentary lascivious grin. ]

Maybe it wouldn't be all bad but Ben, I can't even frost a cake to save my life. Or yours for that matter.

[dogsled]

[ Fraser looks uncertain at that grin. Why would he grin at the thought of getting him... Oh. He frowned at Ray. ]

Well perhaps not the cake then. And I don't think I'd appreciate getting so inebriated that I can't remember our wedding, no matter how you feel about my...capacity.

[cuff]

[ Oh. Great. He went and made Ben all distressed, that wasn't his intent. Feeling sufficiently dampened with guilt, Ray glanced back to crack open his beer, soaking in accidental silence while he tried to backpedal into something else. ]

Kidding, Ben. Kidding. I wouldn't let you get plastered. Look, it- we'll figure it out. Even if it's just a fuckin pot luck in the front yard.

[dogsled]

[ Got him. That was Canadian trolling, Ray, sorry. He smiles into his shirt collar, then reaches across, patting the chair beside him again. ]

Come back?

[cuff]

[ Sometimes Ray doesn't know if he likes it more when you're being a dick or not, Fraser. But now he's just stringing the moment along, taking a sip of beer, strumming his fingers on the countertop as he narrows his gaze. ]

Keep grinnin like that and maybe I will.

[dogsled]

[ He cocked his head, looking hopeful, shyly, back up at the other man. ]

Please, Ray?

[cuff]

Try me again, but hey, maybe- [ Ray picked up his beer by the neck of the bottle, dangling it between his fingers as he meandered his way back over to the couch, slinging one leg onto the cushion and then dropping gently down the rest of the way. ]

Maybe next time a little more emphasis on the please.

[dogsled]

[ The moment Ray is with him on the couch, Fraser bends into him, looping his arm around his back and laying his head down on his shoulder. He sighs, softly, and closes his eyes. ]

Please, [ He repeated, emphasizing the word. ]

[cuff]

[ Ray'd be lying if he said he didn't like the cuddles, the closeness. Shifting only a little to make sure Fraser's got the room to curl into him like an overly large cat, his cheek brushed Fraser's bangs while he moved his beer out of the way. ]

You got me. [ His free hand curled around Fraser's back, curling possessively into his hair, a minute grin curling Ray's lips.