For JS Cavalcante by miss_zedem

In hindsight, Ray should have known something was queer the moment he felt Fraser tense up next to him. He'd gotten used to all the little tics and gestures that told him how Fraser was feeling, even when Fraser's mouth was saying something completely different. And when they'd walked into the club, Fraser's body had been screaming 'oh fuck', even as his mouth was saying 'good afternoon, Mr Smith, my name is Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian whatevers.' Ray had felt him tense, had given him a 'everything okay?' look, but Fraser had just ignored him, banging on about his lias-, lesion-, work and pointedly not looking at the guy draped over the end of the bar.

Yeah, Ray should have known something was up. And he had known, he really had. He'd just figured Fraser would tell him later. So really, he had no-one to blame but himself that he was standing in the shadows of an upstairs corridor, watching Fraser getting intimate with said guy.

"What are you doing here?" Fraser was murmuring, and jeez, that voice. Ray shivered and pressed deeper into the shadows, trying not to make too much noise. Not that they were paying any attention to him.

"I told you. Visiting Morgan." The guy's voice was breathless, and yeah, okay, Ray figured he'd be pretty breathless if he had two hundred pounds of Mountie pinning him to the wall as well. Not that he'd thought about that, of course.

"You're not supposed to - no-one knows, Sam. They can't know. I'm -"

"- a Mountie. Yeah, I got that from the outfit, Ben." Sam laughed. "Fuck me, I'm screwing Dudley Do-Right."

Fraser growled and crowded closer to the guy - Sam - lowering his head to whisper something Ray couldn't hear. Whatever it was made Sam laugh again, and Fraser grinned back before leaning in and kissing him.

Ray closed his eyes, his pulse racing as the word tilted around him. Fraser was gay. Fraser did guys. Fraser did guys named Sam who ran gay bars and were friends with guys named Morgan who also ran gay bars. Fraser lied to these guys, or at least didn't tell them what he did, which meant he was going out and meeting these people in their bars, and not in his uniform, not until now at least.

But Fraser didn't drink, so what the hell was he going to gay bars for? Ray wanted to punch himself in the head for that one, 'cause seriously, it didn't take a genius to work out why someone who didn't drink might go to a bar.

Or maybe he did drink. Maybe the gayness and the drinking were like, linked or something, and Fraser didn't trust himself to drink around Ray 'cause then he might let slip that actually he wasn't as straight as you might think.

Ray snorted. Projecting much, Kowalski? He wished Fraser had those problems around him. It felt like a long time since Ray had decided that staying sober around his new partner was probably the best plan for all concerned, although it had really only been a few weeks. There'd been nothing in that time to suggest that Fraser was anything less than one hundred per cent, card-carrying heterosexual, and Ray had been watching. Oh yeah. He'd have seen it if there'd been even the slightest fucking hint. The fact that Fraser was currently making out with a guy just showed what a good liar he was. Ray would have been pissed had he not been so damn impressed.

It took longer than it probably should have for Ray to look away. He was intruding, spying, and Fraser would hate that. Always assuming he acknowledged what he'd been doing and didn't try to fob Ray off with some goddamn Inuit story or something.

Sighing slightly, Ray turned and walked back towards the main club. Whatever Fraser's, um, personal involvement here, he still had a smashed up business to investigate.

*****

It was getting dark by the time forensics had arrived and started doing their thing, and Ray had had enough. He caught Fraser's eye, nodding towards the door, then said his goodbyes to Morgan Smith and got the hell out of there. No point hanging around getting under the crime scene guys' feet. Their job was going to be hard enough without him sticking his beak in.  Besides, Ray was pretty sure he knew why the place had been targeted.  Some folks just didn't like the, uh, clientele.  It sucked, but there wasn't much he could do, other than request that uniform increase patrols round the neighborhood.

Fraser followed a couple of minutes later, and Dief a minute after him, licking his lips and looking very much like the wolf that got the cupcake. Ray smiled as Fraser started in on a lecture about begging for baked goods from strangers.

"Leave Dief alone. It's only fair someone got something out of this afternoon." He started the car, letting the warmth seep through his fingers for a moment before pulling away from the kerb. "Anyway, you and your bar guy buddy back there didn't look much like strangers to me."

Fraser's fingers tightened on the brim of his hat and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. Ray could practically hear the shutters slamming into place.

"I... you... he..." Fraser shook his head and sighed. "Sam is an old friend."

Ray grinned. "Wish I had some old friends who did that with me." He could feel Fraser glaring at him, but the look lacked its usual heat. Ray glanced over at him worriedly. There was something else behind it, something deeper... Crap. Fraser was scared. He thought Ray was gonna... aww, jeez.

"Frase, you know we don't got a problem here, don't you? I mean, I'm not a..." Ray waved his hand, but for once Fraser didn't leap in with the word he was looking for. "Um, that is, I don't care. I mean I care, of course I care, but uh, it doesn't matter to me who you do. See!" he corrected himself immediately, "Who you see." Ray could feel himself blushing, and cursed himself under his breath. Way to make the guy uncomfortable, Kowalski. "Christ, Fraser. Say something, will you?"

"I didn't think you were, ah, homophobic, Ray." Fraser released his hat finally, raising his hand to scratch his eyebrow. "I merely hadn't intended for you to find out in quite this, ah, fashion."

Ray narrowed his eyes at that, shooting him a sideways look, but Fraser seemed serious. Maybe in Fraser-world corridors were private places.

"Okay..." he said, slowly. He hesitated at the intersection for a second before turning towards the consulate. "Look, how about you go back to Canada for a bit, get cleaned up, get changed, whatever. I'll go finish up at the 2-7 then come back and pick you up. Shouldn't take me more than an hour and a half, two tops. Then we'll head over to my place, order food, watch the game..." Dief growled his approval from the backseat, and Ray smiled. "Furball's up for it. How about you, Frase? Sound good?" He parked the car right in front of the consulate, ignoring the chorus of horns from the cars he'd just cut off. "You can tell me all about Sam. If you want to, I mean. Don't feel you have to or nothing..."

Fraser nodded. "That would be wonderful, Ray." His smile seemed genuine enough, even if there was still that weird look in his eyes. "Diefenbaker and I would be delighted to join you this evening."

"That's great. Greatness." Ray forced a smile as Fraser clambered out of the car. "Come on, furface, vamoosh. I'll type a lot quicker without you snoring under my desk." His smile widened as Dief moaned and hopped out of the car, the picture of offended goddamn dignity. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad.

***** 

"...So then Turnbull says, 'But isn't that a type of chocolate, Sir?', and Inspector Thatcher..."

Ray closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the sofa, the sound of Fraser's voice washing over him. He'd known that getting the other man to talk wasn't going to be easy, but they were getting to the part of the evening where Fraser was going to break out the Inuit stories if Ray wasn't careful, and there wasn't enough beer in the world to make those interesting. Not when he'd rather be talking about Fraser's new boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Jesus, what were they, in grade school? But partner didn't seem quite right somehow, and lover was just all wrong for Fraser. Although not for Sam - he looked like the kind of guy who'd had a string of lovers, and maybe even still did. If he'd thought about it - and he hadn't at all, obviously, 'cause thinking shit like that about your partner just wasn't on, even if your partner was the hottest thing you'd laid eyes on in months if not years - Ray would have expected Fraser to date a park ranger or something. Someone outdoorsy, into clean living and getting back to nature and all that kind of stuff. They'd drink bark tea together and go camping and hiking and running and they'd screw each other's brains out in every log cabin from here to the North fucking Pole.

Sam hadn't looked like that. Admittedly, Ray had only caught a few short glimpses of him, but he'd looked like a man better acquainted with a beer bottle than a teapot, and while his tight t-shirt had shown a body that was obviously used to exercise, Ray doubted he got it from chasing scumbags across wide open spaces. More likely he got it from lifting weights down at the Y and dancing to that goddamn awful blippy dance crap most clubs seemed to play these days.

"Is everything all right, Ray?"

Ray blinked, realizing simultaneously that Fraser'd stopped talking and that he hadn't listened to a damned word, and now had no freaking clue what he was supposed to say.

"Um," he said, quick off the conversational mark as ever. "Yeah, sorry Frase. Guess I just zoned out for a minute there. Been a long day, y'know?"

Fraser nodded solemnly, then went to stand up. "Of course, Ray. Diefenbaker and I should be getting back to the Consulate anyway. It was very kind -"

"Jesus, Fraser, would you relax?" Ray grabbed his arm and dragged him back down onto the couch. "I wasn't asking you to leave. In fact, I got no problem if you wanna stay over. You know that. I just meant I've had enough of my own boring work without listening to stories about yours." He paused, wincing as he replayed that last bit. "Um. That sounded less insulting in my head."

But Fraser was smiling, so Ray couldn't have fucked up too badly. Well. His eyes were twinkling, and there was this little crease in the corner of his mouth that meant he was amused rather than upset, which was as good as a smile where Fraser was concerned.

"That's quite all right, Ray. I do realize that the convoluted politics of the Canadian Consulate are hardly what most would term entertaining." He raised his hand, scratching his eyebrow before shooting Ray a guilty look. "I'm sorry, Ray. I fear I have been more than usually unforthcoming on the subject you wished us to discuss when you initially extended this kind invitation for us to join you this evening."

Ray frowned, running that through his internal Fraser-English translator a couple of times before getting it. "You ready to talk about him now, huh?"

Fraser looked away again, his fingers working at some invisible speck of thread on the pumpkin pants. "My grandmother taught me that a gentleman never discusses these matters."

"Yeah?" Ray reached over and nudged Fraser's arm to get him to look up. "'These matters' being you making out with some hot guy in a club in Boystown?" He grinned. "'Cause I gotta tell you, Frase, my grandma's book of etiquette didn't cover that one."

Fraser's face turned redder than his uniform, and for a split second Ray wondered if he was gonna get punched. Then he realized Fraser was laughing - no, giggling was a better word, something Ray had never seen him do and which was actually pretty cool. Ray grinned, shaking his head. Grade A Canadian freak, every step of the way.

***** 

Ray hated flying. It wasn't a long flight from Chicago to Toronto, but it was a flight nonetheless, and it didn't help that Fraser kept fucking fidgeting in his seat.

"Fraser, do me a favour. Next time you're gonna have to sit for any period of time, don't spend the previous night having sex, okay? Or at least bring a cushion with you if you do." Fraser's ears turned pink and Ray grinned. Busted.

"That's not -" Fraser swallowed heavily, glancing at the stewardess - sorry, flight attendant - who'd been hovering nearby, and Ray started to feel like a jerk. "That's not what's wrong." Ooh, touched a nerve.

"Sam working last night?" Ray lowered his voice so the stewardess couldn't hear as easily. It was nice that Fraser had someone, and Sam seemed like a nice guy. After the whole coming out thing, Fraser had taken Ray out for a drink in Sam's bar, and Ray had started to think he'd maybe got the other guy wrong. He'd seemed really into Fraser, if anything more so than Fraser was into him. Ray hadn't wanted to think about what that might mean, and had been fervently not thinking about it ever since.

Fraser was shaking his head. "Yes. No. I don't know." He sighed. "I don't keep track of his schedule."

Huh. "So what's up then? If it's not discomfort," and Ray made that word sound as filthy as possible, grinning when Fraser blushed again, "what is it?"

Fraser scratched his eyebrow, and Ray had to fight the urge to slap his hand away. Jesus, how many annoying tics could one man have?

"I'm just not looking forward to visiting the, ah - " He paused, cracking his neck. Ray dug his nails into his palms. "Suffice it to say the last time I had cause to visit Toronto, the outcome was less than favorable for me on a professional level."

Ray considered that. Less than - oh. "You're saying you don't wanna meet with the people who busted your ass down to Chicago, right?"

"Well, I wouldn't have phrased it exactly like that, Ray, but in essence that is correct, yes."

"Gotcha." Ray looked up as a steward appeared carrying a drinks tray and smiling brightly. Seemed like the waitress in the sky had heard anyway. "Hey Frase - if the stewardesses are flight attendants in Canadian, what does that make the stewards?"

"Remarkably attentive," Fraser muttered as a second steward appeared, this one clutching a basket of hot towels. Ray watched as the pair of them practically elbowed each other out of the way to get to Fraser, then turned to stare out of the window. God, he hated flying.

***** 

"So let me get this straight." Ray crossed his arms and glared at Fraser. He could feel the receptionist watching them, but he didn't care. "We gotta stay here? The capital goddamn city, and they don't got no same day flights home?"

"Actually, Ray, it's a common misconception that Toronto is the -"

"Fraser." Wonder of wonders, Fraser actually shut the hell up for once. Ray glared at him a moment longer, then flopped down on a nearby seat. "I guess the apartment will wait another day. Not like it's gonna matter to our stewardess, is it." He looked up in time to see Fraser frowning, and hurried on before he got a lecture on appropriate fucking language. Again. "Okay, okay, so we're stuck here. What do people do for fun in Toronto?"

"Well, Ray, there are numerous diversions, as one might expect for a city this size. If I could impose on Claudia here to book us accommodation for the night, it would be my honor to show you around." He smiled at the receptionist, who nodded and lifted the phone. "If we're very lucky, we may be able to get some of those hockey tickets you seemed so interested in earlier."

Ray opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. Fraser was messing with him. Bastard. "Har-de-har, Fraser. You're a real riot." But Fraser was twinkling at him, and God help him, Ray had no defenses against that. "Guess we could find a bar and watch the game over dinner, though. That might be okay." Just nowhere that might get smashed up for being a gay bar, he added silently, then wondered if Canadians even had gay bars.

Fraser flat out beamed at him. "Excellent suggestion, Ray. I'll just get the details of our lodgings from Claudia, then we'll go look for somewhere suitable."

In the end of course, Fraser really was just messing with him. They took a quick walk around downtown, Fraser bought Ray some coffee and a cake with his funny money, and stopped off for dinner at a little Portuguese restaurant Fraser recommended. It was... nice. Now the meeting with the Mountie bigwigs was done Fraser had relaxed, and Ray had to admit that they were actually having a good time. He wondered vaguely if this was the kind of thing Fraser and Sam did - dinner, talking, just chilling out - before remembering that no, actually, this was the kind of thing Fraser and Ray did. Fucking typical. Ray did all the hard work dating the guy, while Sam got all the sex. That didn't seem fair.

He scowled at his rice pudding thing, pushing it around the plate with his spoon. It wasn't Fraser's fault Ray was too chickenshit to tell him how he felt, and fuck, didn't that right there show how much time he and Stella had spent in goddamn couple's counselling. But it was true - Fraser had taken one hell of a risk telling Ray he was queer. Why hadn't Ray just told him the truth right back? Ray snorted to himself. Yeah right, like he was ever gonna have that conversation. 'Hey Fraser, thanks for confiding in me that you got a boyfriend, and by the by, I been wanting to nail your ass since that first time you walked into the squad room.'

"Is there something wrong with your food, Ray?"

Ray blinked, dragging his gaze back up to meet Fraser's. "What?" He ran the last few minutes through his mind again. "Oh, no, sorry Frase. Just thinking about the case is all. What we gotta do when we get back."

"I see." Fraser didn't look convinced, and Ray didn't blame him. "Ray, may I be blunt for a moment, please?"

Ray stared at him, then nodded when he realized Fraser was waiting for an actual answer.

"Thank you." Fraser took a deep breath. "I know that you said you had no problem with my being, ah..." He waved his hand, and Ray frowned for a moment before getting it. Apparently 'blunt' meant something different in Canadian. "But you seem... on edge about spending the night with me."

Ray grinned. "Spending the night?  I'm not that easy, Frase. Gonna take more than a work trip and a nice meal to make me put out."

Fraser blushed further and yeah, okay, Ray was a jerk. "I didn't mean it like that, Ray, as you well know. I simply meant that you seem... uncomfortable. Ill at ease. Not quite -"

"Yeah, I got it, I got it." Ray shook his head. Now was as good a time as any. "Look, Frase. Here's the deal with the thing." He paused, taking a slug of his beer and watching Fraser carefully. "I haven't been completely, uh, honest with you. See, the thing is, I'm uh... I'm kinda that way too." Ray cleared his throat, staring down at his dessert and trying to figure out what the fuck he thought he was playing at.

"'That way', Ray?"

Ray looked at him sharply, trying to decide if he was pulling the innocent Mountie schtick or if he genuinely hadn't understood what Ray was saying. He'd gotten pretty good at knowing the difference, but now he was completely stumped. Ray was suddenly very aware that they were in a restaurant with people, and yeah, okay, they were Canadians, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to get his ass kicked if he just came out and said it. Heh. Came out.

He glanced round, satisfying himself that there was no-one nearby paying attention, then leaned across the table. "You know what I mean, Frase." He sighed. "I'm a, uh, switch-hitter. AC/DC. Dance both sides of the ballroom."

Fraser blinked slowly. "We're not in a ballroom."

Ray opened his mouth to reply before realizing Fraser was smirking. Just a little crinkle round his eyes, but it was enough. Ray threw his napkin at him. "I hate you, you know that, right?"

"Understood, Ray."

*****

There were a lot of Very Good Reasons why Ray shouldn't have agreed to go and watch curling or whatever the fuck was on television in Fraser's room. It hadn't been late when they'd got back to the hotel, and there were lots of other things they could have done - caught a late night movie maybe, or found a bar with a pool table so Fraser could kick his ass at that just like he did most other games they'd played.

But no. Ray just wasn't that smart, apparently, so when Fraser had looked at him and asked if he wanted to see if there was a game on the box, Ray had said yes and followed him into his room like the idiot that he was.

Which was why, half an hour later, he was sitting on Fraser's bed, Fraser's side warm against his, desperately trying to remember even one of those Very Good Reasons Why They Weren't Doing This. The fact that Fraser smelled amazing, even after a flight and a day spent tramping round Toronto, really wasn't helping.

He glanced sideways, wondering if Fraser had noticed he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to whatever they were watching, and realized Fraser looked as freaked out as he felt. That made it better, somehow, that Fraser had noticed this, this... thing between them and was weirded out about it as well. He should have known Fraser would get it. Fraser always got it, that was why they worked so well as partners.

Which was, Ray remembered, reason numero fucking uno on the list of Reasons Why Ray Kowalski Was Not Getting Naked Right Now. Partners didn't do that stuff, didn't fantasize about their partner, didn't spec - spic - think about what said partner might look like underneath all that itchy wool. Didn't sulk over the fact that their partner had a boyfriend, which was reason b on the list of Reasons Benton Fraser Was So Off Limits He Might as Well Not Be There.

"You have a boyfriend," Ray murmured, mostly to himself, but of course bat ears heard him and turned to face him. Close, he was so fucking close. It would be so easy to lean in, to kiss... Ray closed his eyes. "I should go." He swallowed heavily. "Sam -"

"Is a friend." Fraser's voice was low and rough, and fuck, he wasn't moving away. "I... I like him. A great deal. But you appear to be laboring under a misapprehension.  We're not... that is, he and I are not -"

"I don't cheat." Ray wasn't sure why, but that was important somehow. "I've never done it, never got involved with someone who's, y'know, taken, and I'm not about to-"

"I'm not." Fraser's hand was on his cheek now, his thumb brushing Ray's lips, and Christ this was so not what what was supposed to happen, so not what he'd intended when he came here tonight. Except for the part where it was exactly what he'd hoped might happen, what he'd been hoping for ever since he first realized Fraser had, uh, leanings. "We... it ended. A long time ago. Sam knows he's not who I want."

Ray shook his head. "He's a good guy."

"Yes. Yes, he is. And he deserves to be with someone who -" Fraser's voice cracked, and Ray didn't need to look to know that there was some lip licking going on. Possibly even some neck cracking. Yeah, definitely a neck cracking situation. "Someone who loves him."

Wow. Ray opened his eyes at last, gazing up at Fraser. The blush was expected, but the look in his eyes...

Then Fraser was leaning in, his gaze fixed on Ray's mouth, so close Ray could feel his warm breath on his face, could smell the sweetness of the dessert they'd both had. And Ray... Ray had to be somewhere else.

"I have to go," he gasped, pushing Fraser away and struggling off the bed. "You and me, this can't happen, okay?" Ray pushed his hand through his hair, pacing the floor at the foot of the bed and trying not to look at Fraser. "We're a duet. A partnership. Buddies." He stopped pacing and finally turned to face him. "This? This is not buddies."

Fraser looked... lost. Confused. Hurt. Just like he'd looked when he'd found out that bounty hunter chick was married. Then the shutters slammed back into place, and just like that it was like the last couple of minutes hadn't happened. Ray honestly wasn't sure which was worse.

"I gotta go," he repeated, more quietly. He couldn't do this. Couldn't risk losing Fraser like he'd lost Stella. If Ray had learned one thing from that whole fucked up situation, it was that getting involved with your best friend was a bad idea. 'Cause when they left you, you wound up with nothing. Nada. Zilch. "You'll thank me in the morning. Trust me."

Fraser nodded. "I do, Ray."

"Good. That's... that's good." Ray bounced on his toes for a moment, then turned to leave. "See you at breakfast." The door closed behind him with a soft click, and Ray rested his head against it for a full five minutes before slowly walking away.

*****

Another day, another busted up shop. Ray was starting to get sick of hearing about break-ins where nothing was taken but the business was smashed up good.

He shot Fraser a look as he parked the car. "This has gotta be what, the fifth smashed up business we seen in as many months, Frase?"

Fraser nodded. "I must confess, Ray, there does seem to have been more than the usual number of this type of break-in of late." He scratched his eyebrow, and Ray definitely did not watch the movement of his hand. "Do you think there may be some kind of connection?"

Ray shook his head slightly, more to try and clear it than in answer to Fraser's question. "If there is, I can't see what it is." He started ticking them off on his fingers. "Gay club was the first one. Then what's his name, the florist guy. Third one was that bookshop over on Franklin. And last month that gym round the corner from the consulate." He glared at his hands as though they held the answers. "It don't make no sense. If it was a mob thing, there'd have been more threats, more whaddyacallit, intimidation."

"It is quite odd," Fraser murmured, sounding distracted.

"You think there's a link?"

Fraser paused, then nodded again. "I think there could be, Ray. As do you, clearly, since you've tied the cases together in your mind." A low growl from the back seat made Fraser twist round. "Diefenbaker! These people have been the victims of a crime, and it would behoove you to remember that rather than thinking of your stomach." He turned back to look at Ray. "I knew I should have left him with Constable Turnbull. But as soon as he heard the word 'bakery' there was simply no reasoning with him."

Ray snorted. "I'll buy you a donut on the way back to the station if you promise to behave, Dief." It probably said something about how much time he'd been spending with the furball that he took Dief's answering whuffle as agreement. "Y'know, Fraser, I'm not convinced this wolf is deaf."

Fraser pursed his lips and shot Dief a look as he climbed out of the car. "Nor am I, Ray. Nor am I."

*****

Ray leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up on his desk and ignoring the look of disapproval from Fraser.

"There's a connection, Fraser, I know there is. What the hell am I missing?" He reached in his pocket for another cocktail stick, wishing, not for the first time, that Vecchio had been a smoker.

Fraser sighed and dropped his hat on Ray's desk, taking a seat opposite. "I don't know, Ray. They can't all have disgruntled ex-wives, surely." That had been a pet theory of Ray's for a while, but they both knew it didn't really add up. "Mr DiFranco didn't mention anything of that sort, did he?"

"Mr DiFranco? As in Big Tony, the guy who owns the bakery down on Jackson?" Frannie sashayed into view, all but draping herself over Fraser as she leaned over to drop a file on Ray's desk. "Hey Fraser."

Fraser blushed. "Good afternoon, Francesca." He shot Ray a nervous look, and it was all Ray could do to stop himself leaning over and pulling Frannie off of him.

"Frannie." Ray snapped his fingers to get her to focus. Preferably on something other than Fraser. "What do you know about Mr DiFranco?"

Frannie turned to face him finally. "Only that if you're looking for an ex-wife, you're gonna be looking a long time, bro."

Ray pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. "He's single?"

"Nah. He's a, y'know. Friend of Martha."

Ray blinked. "Who the hell's Martha?"

Frannie sighed. "You know," she hissed. "Like the movie. With the red shoes and the little dog and the -"

"Friend of Dorothy?" Ray glanced around the bull pen, but apparently he hadn't said that as loud as he thought.

"Dorothy. Martha. Susan. Who cares? I'm just saying, Big Tony ain't the marrying kind. You get me?"

Worryingly, Ray thought he did. Fraser was still looking puzzled though, so Ray stood and started pulling on his jacket before Fraser could ask any questions. "C'mon Fraser, daylight's wasting. I'll catch you up over lunch."

*****

"Hey, isn't that Sam?" Ray nudged Fraser and pointed to the hunched figure making his way past the diner. "What the hell happened to him?"

Fraser peered out the window, his forehead creasing into a frown. "I - I'm afraid I don't know." He stood up quickly, his chair scraping loudly on the tiled floor. "Would you excuse me, please, Ray? I just have to -" And then he was gone, hurrying down the street the direction Sam had gone.

Ray groaned loudly and let his head fall forward on the counter. Fraser'd been spending more time with him lately, and after Toronto, he's almost let himself think that maybe, just maybe this... whatever it was might be going somewhere. Maybe him and Fraser could make it work in the way Fraser and Stella hadn't been able to. Both being guys had to help, right? Plus Fraser had said it was over with Sam, hadn't he? And Fraser didn't lie. Well, not much.

But that hadn't just been friendship style worry there. That had been proper, all-out, full on concern. Like he felt for Stella.

Huh. Okay, so maybe it was just an ex- thing. But the way Fraser told it - or rather, the bits that Ray had managed to fucking drag out of him - they had never been that serious. More like a fuck-buddies arrangement, although Ray could never see Fraser going for something like that on purpose. That was just how it was.

Ray jumped as a warm hand landed on the back of his neck, almost falling off his high seat as he turned to see who it was. Not that he needed to. Only one person ever touched him like that.

"Are you all right, Ray?" Fraser was looking at him like he might be about to god damn explode or something.

"Yeah, Fraser, I'm good. Just warn a guy when you're gonna do that, will you?" It took him a second to realize Fraser wasn't alone. Jesus. Sam looked even worse close up. "What the fuck happened to you?"

"Ray!"

Sam grinned weakly. "S'okay, Ben, I know how I look."

Fraser frowned. "You look like someone in need of medical attention."

"Nah." Sam waved off Fraser's fussing, and headed for a booth on the far wall. "Some coffee wouldn't go amiss though."

Ray waved at the waitress for three coffees, then went over to join Fraser and and Sam, trying not to be too obvious about watching them. Fraser's hand was on Sam's arm where he rested it on the table, and Sam was leaning into him a bit, but that didn't mean anything, right? Not when you were as beaten up as he was.

"So I repeat. What. The fuck. Happened. To you?" Ray slouched back on the seat and waited for an answer, ignoring Fraser's glare.

Sam sighed, then flinched, and Ray wondered if he had some busted ribs under there. Maybe Fraser was right about taking him to the hospital.

"I got into it with a couple of guys last night." He grinned at Ray's raised eyebrow. "Not like that, pervert. I'm not into the rough stuff." His face grew serious again. "Look, it happens sometimes, okay? Occupational hazard. You work in a gay bar, sometimes you meet people who got issues. It's happened before and it'll happen again. No biggie."

Fraser's face had gone white. "Are you saying someone did this to you because you're -"

"Queer? Yeah, Ben, that's exactly what I'm saying." Sam went to nudge him with his shoulder, then stopped, a flash of pain crossing his face. "Don't tell me you don't got queer-bashers up north, 'cause I'm telling you, I'm a bit old to be believing fairytales."

Ray nodded sympathetically. He'd seen enough hate crime to know Sam was right - however liberal somewhere seemed, there were always folks that had a problem, and who let you know about that problem with their fists.   

"Coulda been worse," he murmured, flinching as Fraser glared at him. "Don't look at me like that. At least he's sitting here talking to us. Some guys don't get off that lightly."

Fraser shook his head. "I can't believe you're being so laissez-faire about this, Ray. A crime has been committed, regardless of the justification. I-"

"Hey." Ray leaned forward, pointing his finger in Fraser's face. "You know that's not what I'm saying. What kind of jerk do you think I am?"

"Guys, guys." Sam held a hand up between the two of them. "I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself." He grinned. "Not that I don't appreciate the alpha male display. But you don't grow up where I grew up without learning how to fight."

Ray looked at him properly for what felt like the first time. "You're from a tough part of town, huh?"

Sam laughed bitterly. "Tough? You have no idea, Ray." He shook his head. "I knew how to fire a gun before I knew how to do fractions."

Ray nodded. "Same here. Although that could be 'cause I never learned how to do fractions..."

Fraser was watching them both, wide-eyed gaze shifting from one to the other. He tilted his head. "You don't know how to do fractions?" he said eventually, and Ray laughed.

"No, I don't, you freak. Gonna teach me?"

"Well, it's really quite simple. This number here is known as the -" And he was off. Ray caught Sam's eye and nodded. They needed a talk, and soon; but Fraser didn't need to know about it. He'd only worry that Sam was mixed up in something he shouldn't be. For all Ray knew, he might be right. Much as Ray liked the guy, there was something hinky about his story, and Ray was gonna find out what. Right after his goddamn math lesson.

***** 

The last few days had been a fucking weird trip, in more ways than one, and Ray was doneski. Had it not been for the bone deep aches, and the still noticeable smell of salt on his skin, Ray would have thought he'd dreamed the whole thing. Except for the fact that even on drugs he didn't think his brain could come up with pirates, a ghost ship, and oh yeah, being kissed by his partner.

Jesus. Ray still couldn't believe Fraser had done that. 'Buddy breathing' he'd called it, but Ray had scoped out a few of the other Mounties on the way back to shore, and while they'd all agreed that such a proc - pre -, thing existed, not one of them had said anything about the use of tongue. Ray was pretty sure Fraser had free-styled that one.

Ray slanted him a look, but Fraser was sacked out against the door of the car, his face all smushed against the window and a string of drool hanging down to his shoulder. He smiled. Mr Goddamn Perfect Mountie. Ray wondered what Frannie would say if she could see him now.

They hadn't had time to pack much clothing when they set off, so Ray had made them stop off and pick up some stuff before leaving Sault Sainte Marie. He picked at the shirt he'd ended up with. Last fucking time he let Fraser go shopping for him. Still, it was big, and it was warm, and it looked so much like something Fraser would wear that Ray kinda felt like he was wearing his boyfriend's letterman jacket. Not that Fraser was his boyfriend or nothing, but... yeah. Ray liked it anyway.

He reached over, letting the backs of his fingers graze Fraser's cheek for a second before shifting his hand down and shaking his shoulder instead. Fraser made a snuffling noise that Ray would never admit to finding cute, then lifted his head to blink sleepily at him.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You wanna stop and get something to eat? There's a diner just up ahead."

Fraser shook his head, and it took Ray a second to realize he was trying to clear it, not saying no.

"That sounds -" Fraser's voice sounded like he'd been gargling with razor blades - all scratchy and rough and sexy as fuck. Ray bit his lip and gripped the wheel a little tighter. "That sounds wonderful, Ray. If it won't add too much time to our journey."

Ray shrugged. He was in no hurry to get back. Chicago meant Sam and cases he didn't wanna think about and Fraser being off-limits and Stella being round every fucking corner and just... Jesus. Why was he still living there?

The diner was exactly what he'd expected. Ray ordered a stack of pancakes he could hardly see over, and a mug of coffee that required both hands to lift. Fraser was more restrained, but he still looked a bit frightened when the plate of pancakes turned up, and that was one big-ass glass of juice he had there.

"Maybe we should have opted to share, Ray," he whispered as the waitress trailed back to the kitchen.

Ray stared at him. "You're kidding, right?" he mumbled, taking a gulp of his coffee. "This right here, Frase? Food of the gods."

Fraser pursed his lips, but picked up his knife and fork anyway. Ray 2, Logic 0. Comfort food was what they both needed right now, and comfort food was exactly what this was. And despite Fraser's protests, it wasn't taking him long to get through those pancakes.

Ray grinned and shovelled some of his own food across onto Fraser's plate. "Good, huh?"

"I'm sorry, Ray. I suddenly find myself quite -"

"Jesus, Fraser, don't apologize for being hungry. Been a tough couple of days." Ray winked, letting his grin fade into a cheeky smile. "You gotta get your strength back, right?"

Fraser stopped eating and looked up, his eyes bright with something Ray hadn't seen in way too long. "Oh yes? And what am I going to need my strength for, exactly?"

Ray choked on his coffee, tears stinging at his eyes as he tried to compose himself. So that was what a Canadian come-on sounded like - or at least a Fraser come-on, 'cause Ray had met enough Canadians in the last few days to know that Fraser's brand of weirdness wasn't just to do with where he was from.

"You have got to warn a guy when you're gonna say stuff like that, Frase."

Fraser tried for the big-eyed Mountie look, but ruined it a second later by giggling. "I'm sorry, Ray," he gasped, not sounding sorry at all; and how much did Ray love it that Fraser didn't even pretend that he didn't know what Ray was talking about? Nothing stale about this partnership, even if it took almost drowning to figure that out.

*****

"Maybe we ought to stop, Ray."

Ray shook his head sharply and blinked a couple of times. He hated to admit it, but Fraser was right: he was gonna be asleep at the wheel if he wasn't careful.

"I could drive if you like." Fraser's voice was quiet, and Ray glanced over at him. Jeez, he must really look like shit if Fraser was being this careful with him. "In fact, I ought to have offered sooner. I meant to, only you seemed like you... needed it."

Ray half-smiled, slowing the car and letting it bump to a stop on the side of the road. "I'd rather get home in one piece, and if that means letting you take the wheel for a while, so be it." He unbuckled his seatbelt and went to slide across, stopping when he realized Fraser wasn't moving. "While we're young, Frase, while we're young." Christ, he was going to end up in Fraser's lap if he didn't move soon.

"My apologies, Ray." He could feel Fraser shifting behind him, and okay, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Ray was suddenly very aware of their nearness, of the heat of Fraser's body, of his scent - and seriously, how was he managing to smell daisy fucking fresh when Ray knew full well he'd been dunked in water as much as Ray had?

After what felt like hours, Ray dropped into the passenger seat, turning to face Fraser and finding him staring right back. The little spots of color in his cheeks were no way from that minor bit of exercise, and Ray could feel his own face heating in response.

"Fraser. Don't."

Fraser's gaze dropped to Ray's mouth for a second before raking its way back up to meet his eyes. "Don't what, Ray?"

Don't do this. Don't let it be okay for me to fall for you. Don't act like this could work. Don't look at me like you want me back. "Just... don't."

Fraser's tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip, and Ray couldn't help but follow the movement. A heavy silence hung between them, enough to make Ray wish he hadn't said anything, hadn't drawn attention to this thing. Then Fraser nodded.

"Understood, Ray."

And just this one time, Ray hoped it was.

*****

Coffee. Coffee was the answer. Ray wasn't one hundred per cent sure what the question was yet, but he was certain that coffee would help.

"Vecchio!"

Ray flinched and held up his hand in acknowledgement of Welsh's shout. His head didn't quite make it off the desk, but he was quite proud of the way he managed to move his arm without falling off the chair or puking his guts up. That last whisky had been a bad idea. Or maybe it had been the seven that went before it.

He hadn't meant to get drunk last night, just like he hadn't meant to contaminate evidence from a murder scene all those years ago. But he had, despite Fraser's attempts to tell him otherwise, and once he'd finished getting snot and tears all over Fraser's jacket, he'd just dropped him off without another word at Sam's and had gone home to drink himself into oblivion. This morning, Beth Botrelle had still spent ten years on death row, only now Ray had a headache the size of the fucking lake they called Michigan to go with his feelings of guilt.

"Good morning, Ray." Ray heard the creak of boots at the same time he smelled the coffee, and lifted his head to see Fraser crouching next to him looking all kinds of worried, and only a little bit like a guy who probably got laid last night. Ray made a noise that sounded embarrassingly like a whimper and reached his hand out for the cup. Oh God. Fraser had added chocolate. It was probably for the best that Ray couldn't move, because otherwise there was a very real possibility that he'd have climbed into his lap and kissed him, right there in the bull pen, boyfriend or no boyfriend. He settled for gazing at him adoringly, which must have worked because Fraser blushed and straightened up. "I believe Lieutenant Welsh would like to speak with you."

"Yeah, I got that memo." Ray peeled himself off his desk, still clutching the coffee Fraser had brought him like a lifeline. Fraser followed him slowly, and Ray wondered just how bad he looked that Fraser was holding back on the evils of alcohol lecture.

"Ah, Vecchio, so glad you could join us. In body, if not entirely in mind." Welsh nodded at Fraser. "Constable."

"Good morning, Lieutenant."

"If you'd be so kind to close the door, Constable, I'll get right to it." Welsh scrubbed a hand across his face before leaning back against his desk. "Detective Vecchio. It is my understanding that you have been investigating, of late, a number of crimes against small, local businesses. Is that correct?"

Ray nodded, regretting it instantly as the world swam slightly. "That's right, sir."

"And it is also my understanding that you believe there to be some kind of link between these crimes. Is that also correct?"

"Well..." Ray stared at the cup in his hand, wondering what to do with it, and feeling almost pathetically grateful when Fraser reached over and took it from him. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to get his brain in gear.

"Any time today, Detective."

Ray showed his teeth, then thought better of it. Welsh could kick his ass at the best of times, let alone when he was feeling this rough.

"Here's the thing, sir. I'm sure they're connected, I just don't know how yet." That wasn't quite true, but it was as far as he was willing to go just now. He wondered if he'd be able to get any actual evidence any time soon.

"You don't know how. Well, that's disappointing, Detective. Maybe this will help." Welsh passed him a file, and Ray stared at it stupidly for a moment before opening it.

"Fuck," he breathed. Another bar, another trashing. Only this time they had something: prints. And a name.  Sam.

Fraser was reading over his shoulder, close enough that Ray could feel warm breath on his neck. He shivered, then remembered where he was and slammed the file shut, feeling suddenly sober.

"Thanks, Lieu. I'll get right on that. C'mon Fraser, let's get at 'er." He didn't wait for Fraser to answer, just steered him out of the office and out of the bullpen, not stopping until they reached the observation room.

*****

Fraser was silent for a long time when he finished reading, long enough to freak Ray out. Then suddenly he... well, he giggled. Ray usually loved that sound, but this one was all wrong, like Fraser was this close to crying.

Ray frowned, shoving down the impulse to reach out and just fucking hug the guy. Getting caught with your arms round your partner was pretty much a no-no in this place.

"You okay there, Frase?" His voice sounded strained even to his own ears.

Fraser nodded. "Oh yes, Ray. Never better. My..." he waved his hand, "friend is a violent criminal, implicated in several of our cases, and I'm only just finding out about it." He laughed bitterly. "May I ask you a question, Ray? You've known me for some time now. Have you ever known me have what could be termed a 'healthy relationship'?"

What could he say to that? Ray hadn't seriously thought that Fraser thought of Sam in those terms anymore, although it suited him to think of them as being together, and the only other relationships he knew about were random infa -, info -, obsessions with women they met through work. He guessed that was Fraser's point.

Fraser didn't seem to need an answer though. "There's only one that I can think of, and I let him go because I was too caught up in trying to become the perfect Mountie." And yeah, Ray was gonna have to ask about that one later. "Suffice it to say my woefully limited romantic past is littered with criminals, emotionally damaged loners, and a whole host of otherwise unsuitable candidates for my affections. And that's just since coming to Chicago! I ask you Ray - is there something wrong with me?"

Ray blinked. "You mean apart from being a freak?"

Fraser stared at him for a long moment, then laughed for real. Ray shook his head, reaching out and wrapping his arms around him, letting Fraser lean on him for a few seconds. Fuck what anyone might or might not think.

"I should have known." Fraser broke contact first, pulling away and moving across the room.

Ray shook his head. "How could you have known, Frase? Did he have a sign on his back saying 'I smash up queer-owned businesses in my spare time' or something?" He winced. "Please tell me he wasn't -"

"No!" And wow, a blush that fierce had to hurt. "Nothing like that, Ray. I promise." Fraser sighed. "I ought not break his confidence, but since this pertains to our current..." He stopped, and Ray could see the anger in his eyes. "Sam served time in a juvenile detention center when he was younger."

"He was in juvie?"

Fraser nodded. "He grew up in one of the less salubrious neighborhoods in Los Angeles. Most of his friends were involved in crime in one way or another, some quite serious from what Sam said. The way he saw it, he had two choices." His voice faltered, and Ray reached over, squeezing his hand.

"It can't have been easy for him." Ray knew all about growing up in tough neighborhoods. While his hadn't been the worst, it definitely hadn't been the best, and it was all too easy for him to imagine having made the same choice that Sam had.

Fraser shrugged. "Is it for any of us? We still have choices."

"Hey." Ray nudged him sharply. "I'm not defending him. I'm just saying it's a wonder he turned out as good as he did given the whaddyacallit, circumstances."

"Good?" Fraser picked up the file, waving it in Ray's face. "He's committed a crime! Most likely more than one!"

Ray nodded.  He wasn't completely sure they were still talking about just Sam. "I know that, Frase." He sighed. Something about this whole thing was queer, and not just the three of them. "But... does this not seem a bit weird to you? I mean, you know Sam better than I do, obviously. Is this something he'd just up and do?" Ray took a step closer, backing Fraser up against the wall and forcing him to meet his gaze.

"He knows a lot of people," Fraser said slowly. "A lot of the, ah, community."

"Right." Ray bit his lip, suddenly very aware how close they were. "The community, uh -" Fraser's hand was heavy on his hip, and fuck, when had he put that there? "I mean, that's important, right? Moving to a new city -"

"Ray."

"-finding new friends -"

"Ray."

"- getting a new job -"

"Ray!" Fraser's other hand came up, his fingers resting on Ray's lips. "You're blithering."

"Yeah." Ray couldn't resist moving that little bit closer, couldn't resist bringing his own hand up to move Fraser's hand away from his mouth. "I guess I am." He heard the slight hitch in Fraser's breath as he leaned closer still, brushing his lips oh-so-softly against Fraser's.

For a moment he thought he'd got it wrong, thought he'd waited too long, that Fraser had changed his mind. But then Fraser's arms were around him, Fraser's lips were moving against his, Fraser's hand was sliding up his back, tangling in his hair and tilting his head to a better angle and - fuck. Ray jumped back as a loud noise in the corridor reminded him where he was. He looked over at Fraser, ready to apologize, and found him... smiling. The fuck?

"Um," he said intelligently.

"Indeed." The smile hadn't shifted from Fraser's face. "I must say, your timing is exceptional. It would never have occurred to me that the most appropriate venue for this was the station. I must thank you for your -"

"Fraser." Ray tried to sound pissed off, but knew he'd failed when Fraser just grinned wider. "Do me a favor?"

"Certainly, Ray."

"Shut the hell up."

Fraser nodded. "Understood."

*****

Ray's headache was back, and this time it had bought reinforcements. He squinted through the windshield, trying to remember why this seemed like a good idea.

"Tell me again why we can't just go in, Frase?"

Fraser slanted him a look, then shifted in his seat, rummaging through that purse thing he kept on his belt before producing some Advil. "Here."

Ray took them, swallowing with difficulty, then smiling when Fraser produced a bottle of water from the glovebox. "When did you pick that up?"

"Back at the station. I thought you might need it." Fraser's hand had drifted down to cover Ray's on the seat between them, and his thumb was stroking over the back of Ray's knuckles. It was... nice, if a little distracting. Ray dragged his thoughts away from what else Fraser could potentially stroke, and back to the problem in, uh, hand.

"Thanks. Look, you're sure Sam's gonna be there, right?" Fraser nodded, and Ray tried to ignore the surge of jealousy. They'd been through this. Ray had no right to get all possessive.

The corner of Fraser's mouth twitched, and Ray got the weird feeling that Fraser knew what he was thinking.

"I called him from the station, Ray. He said he'd be home. I just wanted to make sure he didn't have, ah, company."

Ray frowned. "Company?"

Fraser nodded, the light fading from his eyes. "If your hunch is correct, Ray, and I have every reason to believe it might well be, then Sam's apartment may well be being watched. I don't want to place him in any unnecessary danger."

"Right." Ray blinked, running all that through his Fraser translator. "Hey, you think I'm right? That he's being used?"

"Of course, Ray. You're remarkably perceptive when it comes to picking up on behavioral clues - things which I myself frequently miss, I might add."

Ray grinned. "That difficult to say?"

"Not at all, Ray."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, Fraser's hand never leaving Ray's, until Fraser nodded.

"Okay. Let's get at 'er." Ray jumped out of the car, forgetting for a second that his head hurt. When the world stopped spinning, he grinned at Fraser. "Lead on, McDuff."

*****

"Oh my God, you finally fucking did it." Sam grinned broadly, punching Fraser on the arm. "Way to go, Ben!"

Fraser blushed, shooting Ray a guilty look. "Ah, that's not quite -"

"Leave it, Fraser." Ray folded his arms, eyeing Sam warily. They'd only kissed, for fuck's sake.  "Did what?"

Sam shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. "Oh come on, it's obvious.  Only way to make it more obvious woulda been to take out an ad in Gay Chicago."

"You told him?" Ray turned to look at Fraser, who blushed deeper and cleared his throat.

"Actually, no he didn't. Know why not? 'Cause I got eyes." Sam shrugged. "All I did was point out that it wasn't as one sided as Ben here thought."

And Jesus, wasn't that a kick in the head. Fraser thought that it was one sided. Ray shook his head, glad that the Advil was starting to work.

"That's not why we're here, Sam." Fraser's voice was gentle, and Ray tensed. This could all go horribly wrong. "We know that you're connected with the criminal damage of several businesses in the area." Ray saw Sam flinch, and automatically checked his shoulder holster. Not that he thought Sam would hurt Fraser, but then, he hadn't thought Sam had it in him to smash up six businesses. "What we don't know is why." Fraser took a step towards Sam, his eyes never leaving the other man's. "I know you're not a bad person. If someone's pressuring you..."

Sam covered his face with his hands, shaking his head slowly. "You won't understand."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Then explain it to us, numb nuts. 'Cause from where I'm standing, I see a guy with a juvenile record getting sucked back into something he shouldn't."

"That's not it!" Sam dropped his hands, shooting Ray a desperate look. "I swear that's not what it is."

"What is it, Sam?" Fraser's voice was still calm, but Ray could see he was starting to lose patience as well. If Sam didn't wise up real soon, Ray was gonna have to bring him in, and Fraser knew that. "Tell us."

Sam closed his eyes, his face crumpling as he sank to the floor. "You're going to hate me," he murmured.

*****

Ray watched as Fraser loosened his tunic and sank back on the couch. It had been a long-ass day, even longer since that kiss had been hanging between them like a fucking ghost or something.

"You think he's gonna be okay?" Ray lowered his gaze, staring at the movement of his hand on his own leg as he picked at the denim. "Sam, I mean." They'd taken him down to the 2-7 as soon as he got through sobbing out his story on the floor of his kitchen, and spent the rest of the afternoon making it official. Stella had agreed to go easy on him, in a fit of generosity that Ray was still trying to wrap his head around, and it was all over bar the shouting.

"He'll be fine, Ray." Fraser smiled warmly, and yeah, okay, Ray was man enough to admit now that that smile did things to him. He shifted on the couch, bringing his knee up and twisting so he was facing Fraser.

"Pretty fucked up," he murmured. Turned out Sam was being leaned on by some smalltime Mob guy, name of Vito Baglioni, who took exception to the fact Sam had been screwing his son. Leaving aside the fact said son was well over the age of consent, and was hardly an innocent fucking party, Baglioni had screamed rape and threatened to see to it that Sam and his friends were never heard from again.

Ray still wasn't sure why Sam hadn't just run, but hey, whatever. Once word got round that Sam had been arrested, a whole bunch of Vito's associates had started crawling out of the woodwork, singing like goddamn canaries. Ray had made sure Sam had some place safe to go, then happily handed the lowlifes over to Huey and Dewey to deal with, dragging Fraser out of the station with barely a backwards glance.

Now they were here, at his apartment, and Ray was starting to feel like a fucking teenager again.

Fraser shifted against him. "You really want to talk about Sam?" he asked, and no, Ray really, really didn't, except for the part where he did because talking was safer than silence and silence was safer than whatever else Fraser might have planned, and Ray was thinking about this way too much 'cause it had been too long in getting to this stage and now it was gonna be awful and -

Fraser kissed him. Just leaned over and cupped Ray's face with that big, rough, Mountie hand and goddamn kissed him.

Ray moaned softly, wrapping his arms round Fraser's shoulders and easing him back until Ray was stretched out on top of him. And Jesus, Fraser just let him like it was nothing, like they'd been doing this for years instead of seconds, like there was no place else he'd rather be.

"It wasn't you," Ray mumbled, pulling away to press kisses to Fraser's jaw and throat. He wasn't making any sense, but Fraser had to know. "I couldn't trust myself, couldn't risk losing you, didn't wanna -"

"Shh." Fraser tilted his head back up, drawing him into another kiss, then another, then another. "It doesn't matter."

Ray shook his head. "It matters to me." He eased back again, gazing down Fraser, taking in the flushed cheeks and the mussed hair and... fuck it. Maybe it didn't matter as much as he thought. "Hey there."

Fraser's smile was like a fucking sunrise, and Ray just had to lean down and kiss it. And yeah, he wasn't going to win any awards for smoothness, but Fraser didn't seem to care, and yeah, they were on the same page here, the same line, the same goddamn word. Fraser's hands were sliding down his back, fingers dipping inside the waistband of his jeans, hips moving minutely against Ray's.

Ray groaned, deepening the kiss, letting Fraser pull them tighter together.

"Maybe we should -"

"Yeah." Ray nodded, leaning back in for another kiss, feeling Fraser's arms wrap around him once more. They probably should move to the bedroom, 'cause he was a grown up now and he didn't need to worry about his mom walking in, but that would mean moving and just... yeah. Ray really didn't want to. Not with Fraser so warm and soft under him.

"Or we could stay here." There was laughter in Fraser's voice, but Ray didn't care. Laughter was good. Laughter he could definitely work with.

Then Fraser's hands were inside his shirt, pushing it up and stroking his back, his side, anywhere they could fucking reach, and Ray was all over that, especially when Fraser spread his legs so that Ray could lie between them. Ray was dimly aware of the sound of traffic on the street below, of music drifting from one of the other apartments, of Dief's nails tapping on the kitchen - shit. "Dief," he gasped, trying to pull away and failing.

"Diefenbaker knows when to be discreet, surprisingly. He just frequently chooses not to be."

And yeah, okay, Ray could go with that, only -

"Roll over," Ray murmured, turning on his side and sending silent thanks to anyone who was listening that he'd ordered the world's biggest goddamn couch. Fraser stared at him for a second before getting it, 'cause Fraser was smart like that, and now that was better, now Ray could get his hands on that perfect ass he'd been thinking about since forever. "Lose the tunic."

Fraser pulled away, sitting up just long enough to ditch the red and push his suspenders off his shoulders - and hadn't he just said Fraser was smart? - before lying back down and pulling Ray back against him.

"Better?"

"Much." And it was - acres and acres of broad shoulders under his hands, nicely muscled back, firm chest... Ray had seen Fraser without the serge before, but he'd never let himself look before, and sure as hell never let himself touch. Now he could and it was, like, greatness squared or something, and Ray really couldn't remember why he'd waited so fucking long.

Ray pushed forward, pressing his thigh between Fraser's and grabbing his ass, encouraging him to rock up against him. Fraser moaned into his mouth, nails scraping down Ray's back as he pulled him back on top, and okay, Ray could do that if that's how Fraser liked it. He let himself relax, feeling Fraser's body just fucking absorbing his weight. Fraser's hands were inside Ray's pants now, fingers venturing further as Ray shifted to give him better access. So much he wanted to do, but Fraser was like an all you can eat buffet, and Ray just didn't know where to start.

Clothing. Clothing had to go but -

"Bed." Wow, his voice was rough. This time Ray dragged himself up from the couch and held his hand out to help Fraser up. "There is no way I'm getting naked in front of the wolf. Don't care how fucking discreet he is."

Fraser nodded, wrapping his arms round Ray's waist and pulling him into another kiss. They made it to the bedroom without injury and with minimum damage - Ray had never liked that lamp - shedding clothes as they went. Ray hardly had time to appreciate Fraser naked before he was tackled to the bed, Frase landing on top of him with a quiet 'oof'. And God, this was so much better than the couch, 'cause Fraser's skin was just ridiculously smooth and warm and Ray just couldn't stop touching it, making a little noise of complaint when Fraser pulled away and sat back on his heels, fucking studying him. Ray had a split second to wonder just what the hell was going on before Fraser slid down his body, dragging hands and lips over sensitive nipples and stomach, stroking Ray's hips and licking the crease of his thigh.

Ray's body was way ahead of him, apparently, 'cause he didn't remember telling his legs to fall open, didn't remember asking his hips to move, thrusting up into Fraser's willing mouth. Then it was just hot and wet and good and oh Christ, and Ray was shaking, biting his lip and just trying not to stroke out or something 'cause seriously, this was too good to not have it happen again.

He flopped back on the bed, gasping and shaking and trying to remember his own fucking name.

"Jesus, Fraser."

Fraser just smirked and crawled back up to kiss him, and Ray kissed him back, tasting himself and Fraser and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of hope.

*****

In the end, they didn't prosecute. Stella argued for and got leniency, the business owners didn't want to press charges, and Welsh was happy 'cause they'd managed to nail a real bad guy, even if it was by accident.

"Where will you go?" asked Ray, leaning against Sam's car and watching Fraser load the last of the boxes.

Sam shrugged. "New York, I guess. Always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty."

Ray snorted. "You know anyone there?"

"Yeah." Sam smiled. "You remember Morgan? Morgan Smith?"

Ray thought for a moment, then remembered where he'd first laid eyes on Sam. "Yeah, I remember," he said, ignoring the twinge of jealousy.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You know that me and Ben weren't together even back then, don't you? That was just a kiss. Didn't mean nothing." He glanced at Fraser, his eyes going distant for a moment before he looked back at Ray. "Anyway, me and Morgan gonna get a place, maybe see if we can buy a bar or a cafe or something."

"After you -" A glare from Fraser made him snap his mouth shut, but Sam got it anyway.

"Yeah, after I. Turns out Morgan and I got some stuff in common. More than we knew about." Sam smiled. "It might not work out, but we don't know if we don't try, huh?"

Ray nodded, smiling as Fraser came over and bumped his shoulder. Dief barked at a pigeon, and somewhere in the distance a police siren started up. Ray closed his eyes and smiled. It was a brand new day.

END