Author's website: http://www.mindspring.com/~bluecham/

Disclaimer: I see nothing. I know nothing.

Author's Notes: I blurped this in a couple of hours; I hope you like it. The rating is entirely for language.

Story Notes: Er, maybe vague spoilers for psychoVik, but that's it, I think.

Talking to the Dog

"You're talking to me? You did a freaking handicapped drinking fountain on thirtieth in front of God and everybody!"

"It was coming on to me." Diefenbaker tossed his tail and, as the bus came to a halt with a hush of brakes, he stepped into it ahead of Ray. "Fraser, on the other hand, was just standing there. You could've waited until you'd actually left the crime scene before you started groping him."

"I wasn't groping--" he came face to face with the stony stare of the bus driver. "Service dog," he said automatically, flashing his badge before dropping tokens into the till. Dief had already found a cute girl to sit next to by the time Ray had turned around.

"Freakin' horndog," Ray muttered at him. "Not to mention a miscegenationist or whatever you call that."

The girl eyed him.

"Talking to the dog," Ray explained offhandedly, suddenly finding the view out the window across from them fascinating, though right now it consisted of a mural-sized poster, hung there courtesy of the American Cancer Society, featuring a photographed scattering of grisly-looking cigarette butts.

"Oh, smooth," Dief snorted. "Look, I know you're a little freaked out, but I suggest you shut your yap until we get off the bus, okay?"

"So stop provoking me," Ray muttered.

"It won't do any good to face the other way and mutter. I can't read your lips that way, and all I just heard sounded like a cross between your voice and a carp burping underwater, complete with wave sounds. My eardrums are only back up to about half-mast, which frankly is more than I'd expected without surgical intervention, but--"

"Shut up, will you? Uh, sorry. Talking to the..."

"To the dog," the girl said, nodding. "Goes a long way toward explaining why they assigned you your own K-9 in the first place."

"Cute," Ray said, sinking down in the seat and planting one heel on the edge so he could hide behind his knee, resting his folded arms on top of it. "Been a long day, all right?"

"Of course," the girl said, and continued fluffing Dief's fur and caressing his ears.

"Mmmmmm," Dief sighed

"I will kill the fucking dog," Ray groaned inaudibly, letting his brow thunk tiredly against his forearm.

They got out too soon, a few blocks from the Consulate, because Ray couldn't take it any more. Dief followed him off the bus, glowering and bitching "Hey, it's no skin off your nose--"

"I don't need it in my face, all right?! Especially not right now. God, I am gonna haveta apologize to Frase for callin' him a freak because anybody would be a freak if they had to listen to you all the freaking time!"

"Ray, for God's sake, get a grip. I think your horniness level has burned out whatever functioning brain cells you usually operate on."

"You fucked a drinking fountain! Do not talk to me about my horniness! We are not going to discuss my horniness or lack thereof ever again and especially not in front of Fraser, and by the way, if you even hint around to him with your disgusting ideas about my horniness for him, which would be none of your business even if I had it, which I'm not saying I do--"

"Breathe, Ray, breathe--"

"--I will buy a dozen homemade Sugar Shack doughnuts with chocolate-and-ground-almond filling and stuff eleven of 'em up your ass while eating the last one and not giving you any."

"Been wanting to play with my ass long, Ray?"

"DIEF!"

At this Dief nearly collapsed, staggering around the sidewalk--laughing, appropriately enough, his ass off. "Calm DOWN, For fuck's sake! Do you think I was serious? Look at yourself, here. You don't want to talk to Fraser like this, do you? You think he'll be just happy if you blow in there like 'Portrait of a Nervous Breakdown' on Movie of the Week and implode right there in the foyer? If he touched you now you'd end up in Low Earth Orbit. Plus those winos are looking at you funny."

Ray turned automatically. Damn wolf was right. "What are you lookin' at!?" he demanded. "You wanna piece a me? Huh? That what you want? Christ," he groaned as the winos shuffled fearfully away down the alley, abandoning the shelter of their dumpster. "I can't take this. I can't do this. The wolf is talking, the first thing he says is I wanna jump the Mountie, and now I'm threatening winos."

"Ray..." Dief sighed. "I'd tell you to think calmly, but you might sock me."

Ray eyed him. "Told you about that?"

"In detail. Cried a little, too."

Ray felt the blood draining from his face. "He cried? Fraser?"

"Yes. Just a little. Sniffs and eyewiping, trying to make like he wasn't." Dief had pretty much gotten his hilarity under control by this time and was able to impart a note of gentle commiseration to his reply. "He hasn't done much crying in his life, but he's got as much right as anybody."

"He never told me that he cried about..." Ray felt lost, and about two inches high, and ready to combust all at once.

Dief just said "I'm not surprised. Okay, we're going to attract attention out here in a minute, so listen. You don't want to tell him you're hot for him, fine, don't tell him you're hot for him. But--"

"But don't you either tell him I'm hot for him, which I'm not anyway. Don't you do that. Don't be tellin' him that. I don't wanna hear from him that you told him that or I'll--"

"Doughnut colonic, I got it. He won't hear it from me. But you're going to have to tell him you can hear me."

"Uh. Can't we just let him kinda find that out? I mean, we gotta make a big point of it?"

"Well, he will in about ten seconds, even if you don't make a point of it, but what I meant was, you're going to have to be calm for it. Just forget the horniness thing--"

"There. Is. No. HORNINESS!"

"Which is why you're yelling words like 'horniness' on a public street, loud enough that Fraser could probably hear it from here if he were paying attention."

"You know, this is like that thing in grade school where your cohorts yank your chain by telling you you're pissed when you aren't until you actually do get pissed, at which point you have to beat the shit out of them. I'm freaking out because I can hear a wolf talking to me and you're trying to make it about a hardon I supposedly have over Fraser and the more pissed I get about that, the more you try to make out like it's because I'm horny. Do you wanna get the shit beat out of you? Is that it?"

"Ray, as far as I'm concerned, you're a monk who gropes Mounties for fun, okay?"

"I did not grope him! When did I grope him? I did not grope him."

"Right on the scene, like I said. When he came up to you with the evidence bags."

"I touched his arm. That is not a grope, you oversexed, fountain-humping dog-wolf creature. That is a touch, a friendly touch."

"Ray..." Dief sighed. "You stroked his arm, making it look like you were taking his elbow, and then you stroked his back a few times, and then you let your hand rest right at the top of his ass for a few moments before you pulled away."

"I did not do that."

"You did, Ray."

"Even if I did, which I'm not saying anything about, so what? I stroked his back, oooo, call Mike Wallace. What is it with you, anyway? What is your problem that you see me get anywhere near Frase and I've automatically got the hots for him? I've stroked you, too, you freaking furface, and I didn't wanna do your hot little quadrupedal body, all right? What do you care? What do you care about a stroke? You've gotta fuck inanimate objects so everybody must be that bad off? Yeah, yeah--" Ray was rolling now. "I think this is about you, Dief, I think we've stumbled over a real goldmine of doggie transferal, here. Call Frannie and her travelling couch. But if she's wearin' a short skirt, remember you're only supposed to drool when she rings the bell." He folded his arms and glared.

Dief sighed again. "Ray, it's not just today. I know how you feel about him, all right? I know! So take a pill and live with it. If I were going to interfere, I would have told him a long time ago." He was silent after that, just meeting Ray's eyes, while the human absorbed that.

Even the panting didn't make that gaze any less intense, Ray noticed; then he dropped his eyes to the pavement and exhaled in a whoosh. "Okay. Yeah, okay." He was shoving his thumbs into belt loops, sliding his fingers into his front pockets. He rocked back and forth on his feet a couple of times, still looking down, then said "So, you know, all right, fine. You got dog instincts or something, whatever. So why the big interest, anyway? Why is it the first thing you say to me nearly, as soon as I can understand anything you say to me?"

"I can't believe you're asking that, or that you asked me why I care, even if you were just trying to throw me off the trail. You think I'd be down here in this godawful hole of a human warren, where I can't even use most of my skills or instincts halfway effectively, for anybody but him? Especially when one of my senses is half shot? Do you think I'd stay with him like this if he didn't matter to me more than anything? He's my...hell, I dunno, he's my Fraser. You fuck with him, you fuck with me. That's just the way we are. You can get that much, can't you?"

Ray was quiet a bit, then nodded. "Um, yeah. I get that. I mean, he's always sayin'...how you're not a pet or anything, that you stay with him 'cause you want to. Guess he wasn't just kidding himself."

"You guess right. Listen, the reason I brought it up right off the bat is that he's...he's not stupid, never that, and he's not inexperienced, and he's not nearly as big an innocent as he fakes--God, if he decides to fuck with your head, it's all over, you know what I mean? You'll never know what hit you. And you'll probably love him after it's all over."

"Yeah. I know that."

"Great, you know that. What I was getting to was that he's...a romantic, right? Not just flowers and candles, not just great loves. I mean in general. You know, '...nothing better than the hardworking life, close to the earth' and 'Yeah, of course you're supposed to believe me just because I don't lie' and 'I go through the trenches every day, dealing with the scum of the earth, to make it possible for good people to put their children to bed each night in the knowledge they'll be safe--yeah, I believe that, don't you?' and 'No, helping you is my pleasure. Really. My pleasure...' Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Are you getting me, here?"

Ray brought himself back from the melancholy longings for his impossibly wonderful Fraser that Dief's words were bringing out in him. "Yeah. A romantic, he's a romantic. He's a believer. I got you, Dief. I know that about him, I do."

"Right," Dief continued, his tone softening. "The last time someone supposedly loved him the way you're thinking about, he nearly ended up with his life and all his ideals ripped away from him, because he had no defense against the way that kind of love made him feel--that's just who he is. That's why he's so standoffish, I think. Some part of him knows that he can't handle that like most people, that his perspective goes straight down the crapper when that element comes into things, and it's all the romantic ideal, anything for your partner, or anything for your lover, loyalty, devotion to the end..."

"I get that." Ray exhaled softly, and finished almost inaudibly "Believe me."

Dief slumped, with a soft moan. "You don't know what it was like while he was in the hospital, after the shock of that bullet threw the perspective back into him and he saw, for the first time, what he'd almost done, and way too much of what he had done."

Ray wrapped his arms around himself, tugging on his jacket sleeves with both hands. "Yeah, now that you put it that way. That...that really must've rocked him. Who he was to himself, I mean. Who he'd always thought he was."

"Ray, if he were anyone else, and he'd had his identity ripped apart like that--and realized he hadn't even known it until his partner accidentally shot him because of...what he was doing, instead of what Ray insisted in the report that he was doing...he likely wouldn't have made it. A lot of things could have gone wrong, and the will not to make it could have done some scary things if he'd let it. If he'd let the idea that he didn't deserve to live take over...I mean, if he wouldn't have considered not fighting to survive with everything he had to be a compounding of the things he'd already done, he might--"

"Dief, I get you. You're killing me here, all right? I get you, I do. So what are you saying to me? Are you saying you think it's always gonna be like that for him, always gonna be bad? That he can't ever have anyone...like her, except not a fucking vindictive psycho who tried to wreck his life so bad he'd have no choice but to go with her?"

Dief glanced up and yawned, jaws closing with a snap. Ray figured that meant something in dog besides any of the rude things it might have meant in human, and just waited; Dief said "That's one way of looking at it. She was using him to cover herself, of course. Maybe the fact that it would cut every tie he had to his old life and his old identity was more than just icing."

"I kinda think."

"So you've thought about it. The Victoria thing."

"Yeah, I've thought about it, Dief, and I don't wanna hurt him, you gotta know that. I'd never do any of that shit to him."

"For pete's sake. If I thought you might, I'd have told him so by now, and you'd be on a Thorazine drip someplace nice and secure."

"Okay, I'm stating the obvious. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I guess I do. You mean you'd take care of him, good care, wouldn't pull anything on him, wouldn't use the kind of loyalty he'd have to you under those circumstances, even for relatively small shit."

"That's what I mean." Ray spoke with quiet conviction. "I...fuck, you know. I love him."

"I know. But you see why I'm concerned, here? You see why I thought you oughtta know what I'm thinking, and why I'm thinking it, about this?"

Ray nodded. "And this is why it's nearly the first thing you said as soon as you knew I could hear what you said."

"That's right."

Ray sighed. "I'm sorry I screamed at you."

"It's okay. You've got plenty of reason to be falling apart, right at the moment. At least for a human."

"Fraser would be pissed if he heard you talkin' down your nose about another species. He probably thinks all humans should be your brothers or something."

"Or sisters. Something like that, yeah. Well, come on; we've entertained the neighbors enough."

Ray glanced around. "I didn't notice anyone paying that much attention..."

"They weren't, not really. Besides, the people in this neighborhood are used to you and your constant weird shit." Dief stood up and shook all over, then set off, trotting down the walk toward the Consulate.

Ray, frozen at the comment, had to catch up. "Weird shit? What are you talking about? Fraser's the weird-shit proprietor around here."

"They're used to him, too. But they like him better."

"Well of course they do," Ray snorted, muttering. "How can you not like the sunrise shining right up your ass like it probably feels like whenever he says Good morning or Nice outfit or Thank you kindly. Dief--hey, Dief. You ever notice Fraser's really not an in-between kinda guy? You gotta either love him or kill him."

"Ray, if you don't mind my saying, that's a shockingly insensitive thing to say under the circumstances," Dief told him.

"Okay, I mean love him or hate him, then."

"Or love him but want to strangle him, yeah, I've noticed that," Dief said, with a vulpine smirk.

"Or love him and kinda fear him," Ray added, very quietly.

Dief stopped on the sidewalk and turned around, making Ray nearly run him over. "Fear him?"

They locked eyes a moment.

"He's so...good, you know?" Ray moaned helplessly, letting his hands flop at his sides in aggravation. "Even if he can be a buttwipe, everybody can be a buttwipe, so Mr. Perfect ain't perfect, that only means he's human. He's still just so good. So good, maybe even more good that he manages not to fall on his face at being good more--because he's human, and it's so hard to be good. What the hell have I ever done to deserve anything that good? I'm a monumental fuckup in some ways, y'know, at least on paper. Who the hell am I, that I can even stand in front of him and look him in the face?"

Dief considered a moment. "Someone who loves Fraser like he deserves. Which is why I haven't torn your hamstrings out for having designs on him." Dief turned and started for the Consulate again.

Ray was still a moment, then began to smile slowly. He laughed softly, and followed again. "Uh, Dief, when you talk to Fraser, do you swear so much?"

"I'm not speaking English, Ray."

Ray blinked. "Huh?"

"I can't actually speak English," Dief barked and whined. "My vocal apparatus isn't designed to produce what humans think of as spoken language. If you're hearing me in English, well, that's your deal, I suppose." They had reached the front door; Dief stood up against it and scratched.

It opened almost at once. "Hello, Diefenbaker," Turnbull said brightly. "Ah, and Detective Vecchio. Constable Fraser told me to expect you."

"Hi, Turnbull," Diefenbaker said, butting the man affectionately in the leg on his way by; Dief apparently didn't limit his conversation only to those who could hear him clearly. Ray remembered Dief liked Turnbull because Turnbull could cook, and he shared. "I smell something tasty," Dief added.

Ray rolled his eyes. "He says--ulp." He backed off and rerouted. "I think he's panhandling for some of whatever that is I smell."

"I'm sure he is," Turnbull said, smiling, as Ray came in past him; he shut the door behind them. "Beef bourguignon, with baby russet potatoes."

"Holy shit. Who died?"

Turnbull looked blank a moment, then smiled. "Oh. I see. Yes, I suppose it might be considered a bit over the top for a regular workday, but my mother sent me a new recipe and I wanted to try it out before I made it for anyone in particular."

"So open season on the beef?" Diefenbaker asked.

"Dief," came a warning voice from the end of the corridor. Fraser emerged from under the "exit" sign. He was carrying his tunic over one arm instead of wearing it, and tossing a brass button in his other hand. He smiled. "Hello, Ray."

Sometimes Ray would look up and see Fraser, and it was almost like the first time he'd set eyes on this God-lovely man. Even his voice was beautiful--lush, warm, rich when he spoke; and clear and bright, a powerful lyric tenor, when he sang.

"Huh, um, hi, Fraser." Ray made what he thought was a decent shot at a smile back.

Fraser came up to him, tossing the tunic back a little on his arm to reveal Ray's keys in that hand. "Here you are. Thank you again for the loan of your car; I know how important it is to you."

"Hey, no problem. The way you drive, you'd pretty much have to get run over by an eighteen-wheeler while you're sitting at a stop light before it'd even get scratched."

Fraser gave him a lopsided smile, eyes twinkling with amusement. "I suppose you expect me to take that as a compliment?"

Ray smiled back. "Take it anywhere you want to, Frase. But preferably into the kitchen."

Fraser nodded, half-smiling. "Yes, Constable Turnbull has graciously invited us both to join him for dinner, as he'll be eating beef every day for two weeks unless he gets some help with his latest creation."

"Very bad for the arteries," Turnbull stage-whispered; the phone rang and he picked it up. "Canadian Consulate..."

Fraser gestured, and Ray followed him back into the kitchen, Diefenbaker hard on their heels. "So, like, open season or not?"

"Dief! Jeez, let it get done, at least," Ray said. Then he banged into Fraser, who had stopped dead and was staring at him.

"Yeah, he gets me," Dief said to Fraser.

"I wouldn't go that far," Ray pointed out. "Just because I can understand you doesn't mean I necessarily get--"

"For how long?" Fraser demanded in a deceptively soft voice.

"Just today," Ray said, in, rather, a small voice.

Turnbull came around the corner and they all went down in a mass of flailing serge-covered limbs and motorcycle boots and poofy pants and wolf hair.

"I'm terribly sorry," Turnbull said. He had somehow managed to end up on his face underneath everybody else. Probably he'd tried to catch everyone.

"Quite all right, Turnbull," Fraser sighed. Ray would have sworn he heard a note of affection in the long-suffering sound.

"Someone's heel is in my back," said Dief.

"I think it's Ray's," Fraser said.

"Well. Certainly a remarkable success, even if I do say so," Turnbull said, from his spot by the sink, drying while Fraser washed. He had on his pink apron, but at least he'd taken the tunic off first this time.

"Except you've killed Ray," Fraser pointed out. "Oh, not to belittle your accomplishment, Turnbull. It takes great skill to find something of a comestible nature that can kill Ray. His system has developed truly profound defenses, what with his diet over time."

"I don't think I can take the credit in this case," Turnbull said shyly. "It seems to be a matter of sheer, gluttonous overconsumption, so anything would have done as well. Though I suppose if--"

"I feel too good to kick you both in the head right now, but I'm making mental notes," Ray said. He was lying on the kitchen table, where he had crawled as soon as Fraser and Turnbull got it all cleared. "Turnbull, marry me."

Turnbull actually looked alarmed for a brief moment, and Fraser was forced to hide an explosive guffaw in a dishtowel. He got his Turnbullness back together and answered "Much as that prospect pleases, Detective--"

"I told you. It's Ray."

"Much as that prospect pleases, Ray, I find myself forced to point out that you might find *your*self feeling a bit tied down once dinner was over every night."

"Good point." Ray belched a belch that was more than a belch and Fraser winced, reaching to open the window over the sink. "Sorry."

"Well, I suppose you could hardly be expected to, er...that is--"

"What Turnbull means to say is that these things happen to the best of us, right, Turnbull?"

"Oh, yes sir. Indubitably."

Diefenbaker yawned. "So what's for pudding?"

"Dief, don't be obscene," Ray managed. Turnbull took no more notice of this than he did when Fraser talked to Dief. Apparently Fraser's partner could understand Diefenbaker by extension or something. Or else Turnbull just figured it for more nutty American behavior. But then, Turnbull seemed to be able to have reasonably coherent conversations with Dief just by guesswork. Which was interesting, when you thought about it.

Not that Ray wanted to think about it. He just wanted to go to sleep right here on the Consulate kitchen table. And Fraser and Turnbull were helping, what with their making those soothing homey noises in the background, and the room being warm and golden-dimly lit with the sun's going down, and Turnbull putting cinnamon-smelling apple cider on to heat, and somebody coming over and pushing a thick, folded kitchen towel under his head, pillowlike. Since that was kind of sweet, he figured Turnbull, but it was definitely Fraser's voice whispering in his ear, "There you go. You may now feel free to drool all you want."

"I will kill you, Fraser."

"I'm sure," Fraser said offhandedly, moving away again with a pat between Ray's shoulderblades.

"Uh...hi."

Fraser smiled. "Hello there." He was sitting in a chair near the end of the divan Ray was lying on, in the front parlor of the Consulate. He had a mug of cider in one hand. He was in a loose, dark blue pullover and jeans, and thick white socks. Hm, Fraser in Comfort Socks. Very cute.

"Was I out long?"

"No. Just about long enough for Turnbull to carry you out here and finish his cider. Yours is probably cooling a bit by now. Do you have an uncle Frank?"

Ray spurbled his cider a bit, quickly checking to see that he hadn't befouled the carpet or anything. "Yeah, I do, why?"

"You seemed pretty convinced that Turnbull was him."

Ray choked laughing. "Did I lick him?"

Fraser's brows went up, but he answered "Yes. Want to explain?"

"Just a gross-out thing my brother and I had going on with him. You know, somebody puts their hand over your mouth, lick it to get 'em to let go, or lick their face to make 'em let you up, that kinda thing. Just got a little out of hand sometimes. Used to gag Mum and Dad pretty bad. What did he do? Turnbull, I mean."

Fraser smirked. "Nothing. I think that by the time he decided to say something, he could no longer be sure there was anything remarkable about it, since I'd seen it and I hadn't said anything."

"And you bitch at me when I yank him," Dief muttered, yawned and then closed his jaws with a snap. "Least I don't fuck with his mind like you do."

"I happen to be very fond of Turnbull."

"Hate to see how you treat your enemies."

"Put a cork in it, Dief. You just ate better than most of the humans in this world do on any kind of regular basis, so stop sniping."

"It's that it's Turnbull," Fraser explained. "Dief would like to see the two of us cultivate a closer relationship." He sipped cider.

Ray only barely controlled a full-bore cider spew. "Cultivate a closer--you and Turnbull?" Ray shot Dief a look full of alarm.

"Ray! I didn't mean that. He just knows that if Turnbull and I socialized more, he'd get more choice begging time."

Diefenbaker was laughing now. "Do you really think I'd try to get him--" he tossed his head in Fraser's direction, "--in bed with anyone he didn't want to be there with? It's not exactly a task fated for success."

"You've got a point." Ray sighed. Then he shot Diefenbaker a look, wondering if there'd been any message intended in that last statement. Dief winked and gave him a wolf grin.

"Frase, um...look, I still feel like I got lead weights tied to my eyelids, and if I get any more relaxed I'll be a puddle, and maybe I'm not so coherent right now, but maybe that's kind of good under the circumstances."

Fraser's brow knit slightly. "What circumstances are those?"

"Uh, I gotta...there's something I kinda wanted to...run past you, sort of." Ah, shit, now it sounded like he wanted to take a road trip or something. "Except it's complicated. Oh, it's not bad or anything...'least I don't think it's bad..."

Dief lifted his head.

"Nothing outta you! In fact, take yourself off, there, this is personal. Shoo, scram, beat it." Ray made shooing motions.

Dief grumbled, on his way out, "Give a human your blessing and you pay, and pay, and pay..."

Fraser was giving Dief a sour look, but then evidently heard the rest of the comment and looked at Ray. "Blessing?"

Apparently they'd heard that one worded the same way, at least, Ray thought. "Kinda," Ray said, scooting down a little on the divan to be nearer Fraser. It felt weird to try to say something like this from across the room. "I just...um, I wanted to say that...oh, fuck...just that you're important to me, Frase, like...more important than anybody's managed to get for a while...long while, long time. And...shit." Ray sighed, with a helpless smirk at himself. "I get a feeling it could take a while for me to get this out. Might wanna grab some reading material or something." Great, he had just compared telling Fraser how he felt about him with taking a marathon dump. He was suddenly glad he was so sedated by food and general atmosphere, or he'd probably be in a real screaming tizzy by this time.

Fraser, fortunately, didn't seem to have noticed the unintentional double entendre. He set down his cider on the table next to him, and then leaned over toward Ray, holding his hands out. Ray, uncertain, didn't move to take them until Fraser gave him a "What, you need an engraved invitation?" sort of expression, then smiled; Ray smiled back as his fingers closed around Fraser's warm, slightly dishsoap-dried ones.

"It's all right, Ray," Fraser murmured. His skin shone softly golden in the low lamplight, slight highlights across his cheekbone, the line of his forearm, the smooth hollow of his throat...Ray realized a small sound had just come out of his chest, and, more importantly, that Fraser had heard it, and, while it could not have been called anything but an adoring whimper, Fraser wasn't looking at all displeased. Caressing Ray's knuckles with his thumbs, Fraser added softly "There's plenty of time."

"Really?" Ray whispered. He didn't know what he meant by that, but he had a feeling Fraser would.

Apparently, Fraser did. He smiled and squeezed Ray's hands again. "Really," he murmured.

End Talking to the Dog by Blue Champagne: bluecham@mindspring.com

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