The Black Bottle

by Vikster

Disclaimer: See Owlet's Disclaimer Page.

Mrs. Vecchio was dusting the front hallway when she heard a gentle tap on the front door. She looked out the window and saw Fraser standing on the front stoop, his hat in his hand and Diefenbaker at his side. With a gentle smile she opened the front door and stepped aside to let the Mountie and his wolf enter her home. "Benton? I'm surprised to see you. Please come in."

"I'm sorry for dropping by unannounced. I was in the neighborhood and decided to see..."

Mrs. Vecchio's skeptical frown had its intended effect and stopped Fraser from continuing. Hanging his head in defeat, he confessed. "Actually I've come to talk to you. Do you have a few minutes?"

She smiled at the young man and squeezed his arm gently. "I have as much time as you need, Benton. Raymondo and Francesca left for work over an hour ago. I don't expect either of them until dinner time." She paused for a moment to watch the man. He looked uncomfortable and, for him, jittery. "Why don't I make us a nice cup of coffee."

"Don't go to any trouble for me, Mrs. Vecchio." Fraser said quietly as she ushered him into the kitchen."

"Don't be silly Benton. You are family," she said as she pointed to a chair at the kitchen table. "Sit. Make yourself comfortable." With that comment she walked over to the counter, busy making coffee, dispensing cookies and putting together a special treat for Diefenbaker. At that same time she watched her son's friend from the corner of her eye. He sat quietly scratching the wolf behind his ears. His face was pale and his usually alert eyes, dull and withdrawn.

"Benton, do me a favor and reach into that top cabinet there and take down the black bottle."

"Oh course ma'am." he says enthusiastically. He reached into the cabinet and carefully lifted the bottle from the shelf. "This is a beautiful bottle, quite old."

"Yes my mother gave it to me when Raymondo's father and I were married." She said as she took the bottle from the man and handed him a plate filled with cooked hamburger and a cookie. "Here. Give this to your wolf."

"You spoil him, Mrs. Vecchio," Fraser complained but obeyed her request. Diefenbaker yelped his appreciation and gulps down the treat.

"Of course I do Benton. He's a beautiful animal and deserves to be spoiled," she said sternly but with a hint of humor. Uncorking the bottle, she poured a generous amount of dark liquid into one of the coffee cups.

"What is that?" Fraser asked, pointing to the black bottle.

"This? A special liqueur I use to flavor the coffee."

"I don't normally drink alcohol…"

"Don't be ridiculous, Benton." Mrs. Vecchio interrupted. "This small amount will not affect a young man like you." She silently prayed to the Virgin Mother for forgiveness as she poured a generous amount of homemade Kailua into the second mug. Is it a mortal or venial sin to lie to a Mountie she wondered? I'll have to ask Father Beyan after mass on Sunday.

She placed both cups on the table and sat down. "You must be chilled to the bone. It's a long walk. Here, this will warm you up." She sipped her coffee and motioned for him to do the same.

Fraser sat down at the table and took a cautious sip. "Mmmm. This is delicious. What is it?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Mrs. Vecchio responded vaguely. "A secret ingredient from the old country. But never mind that. Tell me about work, Benton. Is your inspector treating you better?"

They spent the next thirty minutes chatting quietly and drinking coffee. She watched with satisfaction as the tension in the Mountie's shoulders and face eased and he grew more relaxed. Her momma's secret ingredient was working its magic one more time.

"Would you like another cup of coffee?"

"Yes, if it's no trouble."

Mrs. Vecchio patted the young man's arm and walked over to the counter to make more coffee.

"I do feel very warm, Mrs. Vecchio. Would you mind if I took off my jacket?"

"Where are my manners. Of course Benton and please call me Sylvia." She smiled and watched him remove his jacket and drape it on the back of the chair. To be 30 years younger she sighed and then poured a small amount of coffee into the generous portion of liqueur. She returned to the table to see Benton staring at her.

"I love your kitchen, Mrs. ah Sylvia. It's always so warm and inviting. It smells of garlic and pastry."

Ray's mom smiled with delight at his comment and then handed the mug to Fraser. "You are such a polite young man but you looked very troubled when you arrived earlier. What can I do to help?"

Fraser rubbed his left eyebrow with his palm and sipped from the steaming mug. "It's all quite silly. I really don't know where to begin," he said quietly.

"Take your time, Benton," she urged. "Does this have anything to do with Raymondo?"

The Mountie looked at her in surprise. "How'd you know?"

Sylvia chuckled softly. "My Raymondo is a good son and a wonderful man but he can be very trying at times."

Fraser smiled and then looked away in embarrassment. "He's angry at me for proving that Zuko did not kill Detective Guardino. I think he blames me for Irene's death."

"My son has a sharp tongue and a short fuse but he usually recovers his senses quickly. Have you spoken to him about all this?"

"No. He's barely spoken two words to me since it happened. I can deal with his moods and his fits of temper. I can't deal with his silence." Fraser sighed and then drained his cup. "I've caused him so much pain."

Mrs. Vecchio shook her head and sighed. "This is getting us nowhere," she mumbled to herself as she reached over and grabbed the black bottle from the counter. "Are Canadian policemen usually this dense?" She asked as she filled Fraser's cup and then her own with the liqueur.

"I don't understand. How am I being dense?" Fraser asked defensively, stung by her remark.

"Drink," she ordered. Fraser sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. She gave him her most stern look and wagged her finger at him. Sighing in defeat he picked up the mug and drained it in one gulp. Only then did she continue.

"You are dense because you don't realize the effect you've had on my son. You are the best thing that has happened to him and to my family in a long time. Sure he grumbles a lot but he's never been happier."

Fraser's warm smile convinced her that the young man heard and appreciated her words. "Ray does grumble a lot," he whispered, "but his remarks are usually quite amusing." Fraser smiled and gestured for her to move closer. "I make believe I don't understand him half the time just to get him going. He's quite fun to tease." Fraser pressed his index finger to his lips. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell him that though."

Mrs. Vecchio laughed as she gently slapped the Mountie's arm. "You sly devil," she said admiringly. Sitting back in her chair and raising her right arm she vowed, "I give you my word as an Italian momma. I will never tell my son how cunning and wicked you are."

They both burst into giggles as Mrs. Vecchio refilled their mugs. "You should talk to Raymondo, give him an opportunity to explain. I think you might find that he's more angry at himself than he is at you."

"I never thought of that." He shook his head and sipped from his mug. "I think your assessment of me is quite accurate. I am dense."

Smug was the only word that could describe how Sylvia Vecchio felt. The secret ingredient won the battle now let's see if it would win the war.

Sylvia was aware of her son's tendencies. He had quietly admitted them to her one evening after he moved back home, two days after Ray's wife filed for divorce. She should have been shocked at the news but the pain in her son's eyes convinced her that a negative comment from her would break his heart and most probably his spirit. Instead, she held her son as he spoke of his regrets and his fears.

Benton's tendencies, on the other hand, were a little less clear.

"Are you in love with my son, Benton?"

Fraser sputtered and spilled the liquid on his chin. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand and stared at her blankly for a moment. "Wha…what do you mean?"

"I am a woman and I am Italian. I know about these things. You and my son are very close. What are your intentions?"

Fraser grabbed the bottle, poured himself a generous amount, slammed the bottle down on the table and gulped his drink greedily. He looked at her for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. "How would you react if I said that I had intentions?"

Smiling, she reached over and pinched his cheek. "I'd react very favorably, Benton. I would even be quite pleased."

Fraser leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you for understanding, Mrs. Vecchio."

Sylvia returned his kiss and then smiled contentedly. "I guess you should call me momma then."

Fraser giggled at her remark and then looked worried. "I'm not sure Ray feels the same way about me."

"Don't be silly son. I'm Raymondo's momma. I know what he thinks and how he feels, even before he does. He's in love with you."

"Then how do I show him how I feel?"

Folding her arms across her ample bussom she considered the problem carefully. "I've got an idea. The best way to any man's heart and mind is through his stomach." She stood up and walked over to the counter, clearly energized by this idea. "I'm going to do something that I've never done before. I'm going to give you my secret recipe for marinara sauce. One taste of this sauce over freshly made pasta and some nice garlic bread...Raymondo will be yours forever."

Ray Vecchio spent the entire morning and some of the afternoon completing paperwork. He hated paperwork more than he hated climbing in and out of dumpsters. His phone rang and he answered it gruffly. "27th. This is Vecchio."

"Ray! Can you hear me?"

"Frannie. Is that you? Why are you whispering?"

"Never mind that. You have to come home right away."

"Frannie? What's wrong? I can't hear you"

"Just get home now!" Frannie's shout was followed by a dial tone.

Grabbing his jacked from the back of the chair, he shouted for the civilian aid. "Elaine. Something's going on at home. I've got to go. I'll call you."

Ten minutes later his car screeched to halt in front of the Vecchio home. Leaping out of the car, he was half way up the stairs when he saw his sister standing in the front doorway. "Frannie. What the hell is going on?"

"This is all your fault. How could you allow this to happen?"

"Allow what to happen? Frannie what..." Ray's question was interrupted by a loud crash, a pitiful yelp and hysterical laughter.

Before either sibling could respond, they heard another yelp and the scratching of claws on the kitchen floor. They saw Diefenbaker push the kitchen door open with his nose and run down the hallway barking. The wolf sat down next to Ray, still standing on the front porch, and growled.

Ray knelt down next to the distressed animal and patted him on the head. The wolf's head and how Ray's hand was covered with a white powdery residue. "Hey, Dief. What's all over you?"

With a whine and a growl, Diefenbacker turned to show Ray his side and his back. Ray touched the wolf's back to discover that the animal was covered, from head to tail, with flour. "How in the hell…." Again, his question was interrupted with a loud bang originating from the kitchen.

With a snort and a bark Dief pushed away from Ray, ran down the front stairs and hid behind the bushes in the front yard.

Rubbing his hands together in an attempt to remove the flour, he stood up and glared at his sister. "Why is a deaf wolf running out of my house doing a real good impersonation of the Pillsbury Dough Boy?"

Instead of answering his question, his sister punched him in the chest. Hard. She picked up her pocketbook from the table in the hallway and burst past the very confused man. "I'm not cleaning up that mess. It's your problem. You deal with it." She rushed down the stairs, climbed into her car and sped away.

Another crash propelled the cop down the hallway. Swinging open the kitchen door, he stopped short at the site before him, his mouth hanging open in astonishment. His mother and his best friend were kneeling on the floor, scooping up flour with a small dustpan. They were giggling.

"Ma?" asked the stunned detective.

"Raymondo. You're home," his mother exclaimed as she struggled to stand. Fraser, seeing her difficulty, put his hands in her armpits and lifted her to her feet. She kissed his cheek in thanks, turned, and crushed her son in a bear hug.

Ray embraced his mother, not taking his eyes off of the flushed and clearly drunken Mountie, leaning against the counter, grinning.

"I'm so happy to see you," she squealed delightedly as she untangled herself from Ray. "Although you naughty boy. You ruined our surprise." Ray's mother pinched his cheek and walked over to stand next to his friend. She nudged Fraser's arm and howled with laughter. Benny giggled.

Ray was mesmerized by the bizarre display. He could count on two fingers the number of times he witnessed Benny laugh, let alone giggle. His mother winked at him and turned to look at Fraser. She caressed his cheek tenderly and shoved him across the kitchen and into Ray's arms.

Fraser wrapped his arms around Ray's torso and squeezed. "I'm very happy to see you too," Fraser whispered in his ear.

"I'm happy to see you too, Benny," Ray replied quietly as he untangled himself from the intoxicating embrace. He looked over at his mother, now sitting at the kitchen table in front of THE black bottle. "Grandma's recipe. You let him drink grandma's recipe?"

His mother laughed at his indignant tone. Fraser raised his hand to his mouth and giggled. Oh yeah, this was bizarre.

"Come on Benny. Why don't you sit down before you fall down." Placing his hands on the giggling Mountie's shoulder, Ray pushed him into a chair.

Before Ray could pull away, Fraser clutched Ray's tie and yanked until their faces are inches apart. He kissed Ray on the tip of his nose, grinned delightedly, and flipped the tie over the very confused man's shoulder.

"Would you like some of momma's special recycle?" The Mountie paused for a moment in confusion and then tried again. "No I mean reciprocal...no that's not right...special recipe." He laughed and then beamed with accomplishment.

"No that's OK Benny. I'm on duty." Ray glared at his mother and then looked back at his friend. "What are you and Ma doing?" he inquired quietly.

"Can't tell you. It's a surprise." The Mountie hiccuped and giggled again.

"You can tell me Benny. I promise I won't tell anyone."

Fraser leaned closer to his friend. "We're making pasta and sauce." Pressing his index finger against his lips, Fraser whispered, "Shh. Don't tell anyone. It's Momma's secret recipe."

Ray was shocked. His mother never gave out her recipe, even to his sisters. He was just about to ask her why when he realized something else. "Wait a minute. Why is Benny calling you momma?"

His question caused another round of very annoying laughter.

"He's so glueless," Fraser whispered to the woman.

"I think you mean clueless," the woman corrected him sternly which of course caused them to laugh even harder.

"Ma?"

His mother looked at him for a moment and then banged the tabletop with her hand. "He's a good boy. It was necessary." She declared as if her answer was in fact an answer.

"All right, that's it. Go upstairs and go to bed. I'll be up to check on you as soon as I get Benny settled." Shaking his head in amusement Ray watched as his mother, without saying a word, stood, straightened her dress and staggered out of the kitchen.

Satisfied when he heard the stairs creak, Ray turned his attention to his drunken friend. "You, my friend, are going to sleep this off." He tugged on the Mountie's arms and pushed him into the living room.

"I love you, Ray." Fraser mumbled as they walked down the hallway.

"I love you too, Benny," Ray replied quietly as he maneuvered his friend into the living room and onto the sofa. "Let's get these boots off." He stared at Fraser's boots for a moment, took the right foot in his hands and pulled.

Fraser slipped off the sofa and fell and on the floor.

"Okay, that's not going to work," Ray grumbled as he pushed the drunken man back onto the sofa. "Let's try this, Benny. I'm going to straddle your legs like this. Okay?" As he spoke, Ray faced away from Fraser and lifted his leg between his own. "Why don't you put your hands on my legs so that you can get leverage, ya know?" Ray waited for his friend to obey before he pulled the boot. He tugged a few more times before the boot slipped off. He tossed the boot onto the floor and lifted Fraser's left leg. "This looks a lot easier in the movies," he grumbled and paused to catch his breath.

He heard Fraser whisper "heaven" and the hands that were once pressed against the back of his thighs were caressing his buttocks. "Benny!" Ray yelped and jumped away from the man. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"Have I ever told you that I think you have a great backside?" Fraser asked as he fell against the back of the sofa.

"No, Benny. I don't think that's ever come up before," Ray said distractedly as he helped the Mountie lay down. He cautiously tugged the boot off his friend's left foot and tossed it onto the floor. He slipped the afghan from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around his seemingly unconscious friend.

Without warning, Fraser clutched Ray's shirt. Ray lost his balance and fell on top of Fraser. "You've got a wonderful front-side too," purred the Mountie as he lifted his hips in obvious need and cupped his buttocks. "I need you so much."

Bizarre no longer applied to this situation. Ray, both stunned and mesmerized by the look of love and desperate need in his friend's eyes, groaned at the wonderful sensation. Fraser's hard cock was pressed against his thigh and his talented hands were caressing his ass and his lower back. Making love to this remarkable man was something that plagued and entertained Ray's thoughts for many months.

But not under these circumstances.

Ray pushed away from Benny and sat down on the coffee table. "I don't think that's a very good idea right now, Fraz."

"Why not?" asks Fraser, making sure to curl his lips in the same pout that he saw Francesca use on a number of occasions.

"Ah. Don't do this to me, Benny." Ray sighed and rubbed his hands across his face in frustration. "I don't think it's a good idea for two very good reasons. Number 1," he held up his index finger to reinforce the point, "I'm a gentlemen. Number 2," holding up his second finger, "you're stinking drunk."

"I'm a Mountie. Mounties don't get drunk." Fraser protested.

"Yeah well the RCMP never had to contend with Ma's black bottle. Go to sleep Fraz. We'll talk later."

Ray waited for his friend's eyes to close and his breathing to even out in sleep. He tucked the afghan under his chin and tiptoed out of the living room. "You're going to pay for this, Ma," Ray grumbled under his breath as he climbed the stairs to check on his mother. She was sprawled across her bed, snoring loudly. He sat on the edge of her bed and watched her for a moment. "How many times have a asked you not to meddle in my affairs?" Ray asked quietly to the sleeping figure. He lifted the comforter from the end of the bed and draped it over her. "I love you Ma but I hope you have one hell of a hangover for what you did to Benny." Ray kissed her forehead and walked out of the room.

He opened the front door and sat on the front steps for a moment, watching the afternoon traffic. His cell phone rang, startling him. "Yeah, Vecchio. Hey, Elaine. No, I'm sorry. It's been crazy here. No, nothing serious. But hey look, could you tell Welsh that I'm taking the afternoon off. Yeah, Fraser's involved. No, no don't come over. Listen. I'll tell you all about it in the morning. Okay? Thanks."

A wolfy whine and rustling branches reminded Ray that someone else needed his help. "Hey, Dief. The coast is clear." The wolf poked his head out between the branches, barked once and ran up the stairs to sit next to the cop.

Ray patted the wolf on the head and smiled. "They're asleep. You want to help me eat some of that marinara sauce that Benny made?" Dief jumped up, yelped once and stood in front of the door, waiting for Ray to let him in the house. "Okay, okay. Give me a minute, huh?"

The pair spent the rest of the afternoon eating the delicious sauce and cleaning up the kitchen. To his surprise and begrudging enjoyment, Dief even allowed Ray to give him a bath in the back yard.

Hours later, Dief was asleep in the kitchen. Ray was reading a book in the living room when he heard a desperate moan escape the Mountie's lips. Ray rushed into the kitchen for his mother's washing bucket, a wet wash cloth and a glass of hangover juice.

"Ray?"

"I'm here Benny." Ray whispered and sat down on the coffee table.

"I don't feel well," Fraser moaned as he turned a very interesting shade of green. "Oh dear."

"Shit," Ray exclaimed as he rolled the man on his side and positioned the bucket under his head. He gently stroked his friend's back as he threw up in the bucket. When it looked like Fraser was finished, Ray washed his face with the damp cloth and eased him back onto the sofa. "Here Benny. Drink this. It'll make you feel better."

Fraser looked suspiciously at the glass. "I seem to remember another Vecchio telling me the same thing this morning."

"You're not the first person to drink from the black bottle, " Ray chuckled and then helped Fraser lift his head. "This will make you feel better."

"It tastes terrible," Fraser complained and collapsed onto the sofa.

"With the stuff I've seen you put in your mouth..."

"Do you have your gun, Ray?" Fraser interrupted, clearly not in the mood for Ray's teasing.

"Yeah sure. It's locked upstairs. Why?"

"If you loved me; you'd shoot me."

"I love you Fraz but I'm not going to shoot you." Ray stroked his friend's forehead. "Close you eyes, Benny," he said as he ran his hands through the thick and luscious hair. "You'll feel better once you've detoxed."

"Very funny Ray."

"Yeah well it serves you right. Why'd you drink that stuff anyway?"

Fraser opened his eyes and sighed. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. I didn't want to disappoint your mother."

"Benny. You couldn't disappoint my mother. She and the entire family think you walk on water." Ray continued to stroke Fraser's face and head, deep in thought. "I guess in a way you should be honored."

"Whatever for?" asked Fraser incredulously.

"Ma doesn't bring out the black bottle for just anybody. Besides she gave you her actual recipe for marinara sauce, the real one not the fake one she hands out at parties."

"Please don't mention food in my presence ever again." Fraser moaned and he closed his eyes in an attempt to keep the sofa from spinning. "Was it any good?"

"Yeah, Benny. It was even better than Ma's." Ray said softly as he pulled the afghan up around his friend's neck. "Sleep tight."

The end

Feedback welcome. Email me at Vikster@mediaone.net.