Author's Website: http://www.kitsworks.com/stories/index.htm

Disclaimer: Not my guys, not even my wolf. (I'd bid on the sleeping bag, if I could.)

Author's Notes: Thanks to Beth H. for beta. And to Carla, for her patience and her marvelous hot tub. This is for both of them.

Story Notes: Pure sillyness. Fluff. Lightshows. Rabbits. Wishes.

Blue ribboning into sweet bright green, curling overhead, hissing at the edges. Oh, so beautiful. This had to be one of the best things about the cold Northwest Areas. Who needed three hundred channels of golf, cooking and bad wrestling when he could have the biggest light show in the world for free?

"Hey, Frase, you ever think about happily ever after?"

Fraser chuckled, a sound Ray could feel against his chest as much as hear. "Isn't that where we are?"

"Oh, so now you have to be difficult." Ray snaked a hand down along Fraser's ribs and traced his fingertips over the third floating rib. It had taken the entire Franklin trip for him to figure out just which spot was the most ticklish, but the wait had been worth it as much as the exploration. Fraser wriggled up, laughing, and rolled over to pin Ray down with his weight.

"That's not fair, Ray."

"Fair. Now, you want fair. Where was fair when --"

Ray abandoned the rib momentarily for the pleasure of pulling Fraser down into a long, sweet kiss. "No, you're right."

"I'm right.'"

"Yes. You've always been difficult, not just now."

"That." Kiss "Is." Kiss. "True." Kiss.

"Difficult Mountie, you're blocking my view of the light show."

"Oh, I do beg your pardon." They rearranged themselves in, or, rather, on, the sleeping bags, with Fraser's head on Ray's shoulder. "You were saying something about happily ever after?"

"Yeah." The green streak metamorphosed into hot pink, deepened into a rose red. "Ever imagine them for other people? Outside your Inuit stories, I mean?"

"Not until recently. It's easier now."

"I can dance to that."

"I thought you could. Anyone in particular that you'd want to wish happiness for?"

"Oh, everyone. Except the bad guys. Well, no. Even some of the bad guys should be happy now and then, just so's they know what they're screwing up for the rest of us when they're being bad guys."

"Mm-hmm." Fraser kissed the side of Ray's neck above the flannel collar; he tasted sweet, a little salty, and belovedly familiar. "What would you imagine for your friends in Chicago?"

"I'd give Huey and Dewey that comedy club they keep saying they want. You know they'll never do it on their own, just wear everyone out talking about it. Don't know if it'd be any good, but it'd make them happy."

"And it would get them out of the squadroom."

"Did I say that, Ben? Did I say that?"

"You didn't have to." Fraser sighed. "I've thought for a long time that Dewey would be much happier in another profession."

"Yeah, and so would the rest of the 2-7, if he were in that other profession. Happy endings all around, there." Ray rested his cheek against Fraser's hair, listening to Dief's feet running across the grass. Dief thought rabbit chasing beat out chasing deadbeats in old Plymouths by a mile, and Ray couldn't say he disagreed. The deadbeats weren't likely to feed you when you caught them. "What kind of happy ending would you give Lt. Welsh?"

"Hmm. That's a hard one. Let's leave him for later." Fraser adjusted the sleeping bag so its snap didn't rub against his thigh. "You know, I'd really like Francesca to be happy, but I'm not certain what would make her happiest."

"A baby."

"A baby?"

Ray nodded with certainty. "A baby. Sure, she wants a man -- that's no surprise -- but I think she'd really like a baby or two."

"Wouldn't she have to have the man to have the baby?"

"Yeah, but you and I know she's never going to find someone who meets all her expectations. I mean, give that woman the angel Gabriel or whoever, she's still not going to be satisfied."

"You have a point there, Ray. All right." Fraser waved a hand as if it held a magic wand trailing stardust, and blew the imaginary stardust in the general direction of Chicago. "I hereby decree that Francesca Vecchio should have as many babies as she wants -- by immaculate conception."

"Huh? Like in church?"

"Exactly. No human man would be involved, so she'd never have to be disappointed by one."

Ray nodded, a smile curling on his lips. "I like that. You're a smart guy."

"Thank you." Fraser paused a second. "I'd like to give Ray Vecchio his heart's desire, too, but I'm not sure what that is any more."

"Yeah. I know what you mean. That's how I feel about the Stella." Ray's smile changed to something a little sadder. "I just want her to be happy all the time, the way we are."

Fraser reached up with two fingers to turn Ray's chin so they could kiss. "They're both good people, intelligent, dedicated to their work. Very much alike, in many ways."

"All right. I'm feeling magnanimous -- see, I did say that without messing it up --"

"Yes, you did." Kiss.

"Side effect of falling in love with a Mountie who learned to read from the Encyclopedia Britannica."

"Not exactly. It was the Twentieth-Century Encyclopedia, published in 1902 --"

Kiss. "Same difference. You want to hear what I was feeling magnanimous enough to do?"

"I am all ears."

"The hell you are. That's not an ear poking my leg."

"Ray. Ray. Ray."

"Put 'em together."

"Ray. Ray?"

"You heard me. Okay, I'll make it official." Ray waved a hand across the bright sky. "I hereby decree that your ex-partner, the original Ray Vecchio, shall fall in love with my ex-wife, the one and only Stella, and she shall fall in love with him, and they shall move to Florida and ..."

"And?"

"I lost track. What's there to do in Florida? Okay. Got it. Stella's been up in arms for years about how her parents run her life, how she wants to quit being a D.A. and do something different. And, from what you've told me, Vecchio'd love to quit being a cop and go someplace warm. So, they move to Florida, which is warm for him and different for her. She can go lie on the beach all day and get more beautiful, and he can, oh, run a pool hall. Or a bowling alley."

"A bowling alley?"

"Yeah. Some place where he can hang out with the guys."

"All right." Fraser nodded. It wasn't exactly what he would have chosen for his ex-partner, but perhaps Ray Kowalski had a better view of the matter, since he knew Stella so well. And certainly Ray Vecchio would have been happy to be near a woman as beautiful, intelligent and accomplished as Stella Kowalski.

"Your turn. What about the Consulate?"

"The consulate. Well, you know, Turnbull has been following your American political wrangles with avid attention. I wouldn't be surprised if he were to consider running for public office, once he's posted back in Canada."

"Turnbull? Yeah. You know, that's not a bad idea. He's good at talking to people, and he's sure enthusiastic about Canada. Though, I've got to tell you, the man's clumsy. I mean, I look at him and think of public life, and the first thing that comes into my mind is that this is a man who is destined to be run over by his own campaign bus."

"You have a point, Ray. Hmm. All right. I think I have a solution."

"Lay it on me, Frase."

"Later, Ray." Kiss. "He could become the Canadian Commissioner of Curling."

"You have a Commissioner of Curling?"

"You have a Commissioner of Baseball."

"That's true. Do you really have a Commissioner of Curling?"

"I don't think so, but this is happily ever after, is it not?"

"It'd certainly make Turnbull happy."

"Well, there you have it."

"What about the Ice Queen, er, Thatcher?"

Fraser sighed. "I'd like to think that she could find a position more suited to her considerable talents. She really was wasted on Consular duties."

"Such as what? International intelligence?"

"Yes. That's it. I'd make her a confidential agent, entrusted with the overthrow of unjust regimes."

"Y'know, that's right up her alley." Ray waved his hand again. "So be it. The Ice Queen becomes a spy."

"A good spy, Ray. A worthy spy, one who can make a positive contribution to world peace and stability."

"Okay, I got it already."

"Sorry." Kiss.

"No problem." Kiss.

"So that leaves Welsh."

"Yes, it does."

A small yip of triumph came from the edge of the bushes, where Fraser could just see a white shape that appeared to be acting as if it had found a cache of jelly donuts, or the local equivalent. A few moments later, Diefenbaker tipped his head back and started to sing.

"Y'know, there's a problem with Welsh."

"Which is?"

"I can't really imagine him doing anything except what he does already. I mean, he's pretty happy where he is, being the lieutenant, sorting things out, keeping the rest of us going."

"I see your point."

Ray took Fraser's hand in his. "I think we're both going to have to wish this one to get it to come out right."

"Yes." They kissed for a long time, the flickering curtains of light hissing softly overhead. When Fraser moved back, a scant inch or so, they raised their hands together and waved them as if combing the sky for magic to point toward the south. "I wish Lieutenant Welsh all the happiness he can have."

"And I wish Welsh whatever he wants to do that makes him happiest."

"You realize, Ray, he's never going to move from behind his desk."

"That's okay, if it makes him happy. And if it doesn't, he'll go find something that will make him happier. That's the way good wishes work."

"And happy endings."

"And happy endings. Speaking of endings, is that what you're packing down there, an ending?"

"I sincerely hope it's not an ending, Ray, but it's very happy at the moment."

"Hmm. I seem to have something that's happy too. Think we can make them happier together?"

"I believe it's worth the endeavor. As the poet says --"

"Shut up and kiss me, annoying Mountie."

"The poet didn't say that, Ray."

"Am I, or am I not, a poet, Fraser?"

"You did say, some time back, that you were a poet on the inside."

"Then the poet said it, Fraser. Let's get happy."