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Author's Notes: Not a Dog story.

Story Notes:

Fissure

They had been lying there, a little trepidatious, a little awkward, but mostly okay--neither of them too body-shy that it was torture to be naked there with each other like that; just a little goofy-smirk, hey-guess-we-are-guys, aren't we? Proof's kinda right there. Chuckle, snort. Those expressions and gestures and feelings. Casual, yes--but the kind you never got in a locker room because that was just something everybody had to do, and nobody really wanted a look at anybody else's. Didn't hate it, just didn't want it especially. You kinda went on around somebody while you were doing your own thing, and you forgot about what you saw up close and personal without any real effort, unless it was entertaining or something. "Man, you got tattooed there?" "Shut up, asshole." Mutual grin, immediately forget it, the end.

This was getting naked and in bed, though, after some kissing and some touching and petting of faces and arms and necks, and the deciding that closer, and maybe some more of this soft skin, and having it there lying down so they could rub it all along the length of them, would all be good. But still, they could just do whatever they felt like, no need to push, not like they were on a schedule.

But the touching, that sounded good to both of them. When Fraser asked him quietly what kind of thing he had in mind for firsts, damn, Fraser just lit up when Ray used the word--then lit up more when he used it again; "...touching, I'd like...to touch you, I always thought you looked...you know. Uh...touchable. Just touch, I mean, it never got as far as...you know. I liked..." He'd reached over and gently run a finger up Fraser's wrist to his forearm, then back down to his knuckles. "...thinking of that, doing that." Okay, his inner poet was staying in watching the tube today, but Fraser sure had seemed to appreciate the sentiment. "Pretty skin. Pretty all of you. God, I'm an idiot."

They'd both grinned and Ray'd laughed while Fraser smiled softly at him, shaking his head, saying he wasn't an idiot, he was just kind and honest, and real.

He'd been wanting touch, and this kinda confirmed Fraser had too, while they'd been flirting--flirting for a while, weeks or maybe only days that seemed like weeks--and then right out open looks, with open, I'm-liking-this-a-bunch smiles, for a while...finally Ray's sudden, right-in-the-middle-of-the-postgame-highlights caress of Fraser's soft, soft hair and leaning over to kiss the curl he'd slipped his fingers under, the big goofy smile, eventually the nervous, giggling kiss goodnight...

And the next night, this--tonight, dinner at Ray's because screw "special occasion"; they liked making burgers and salads, and fries in Ray's Fry Baby, so they'd done that, with Ray adding stuff that Fraser kept taking out and adding different stuff (especially the frying substance from the Fry Baby, and Fraser feinted from the left with arterial plaque and Ray countered with poutine), and bumping hips and shoulders gently and smiling whenever they did.

And now pulling clothes off, mostly their own, helping each other as a little nice gesture here or there--like, "I wanna help get you naked all neat, help fold your clothes and stuff, 'cause it's friendly-respectful, shows you I don't wanna seem like a guy who'd just wait here looking at my watch while you get for godssakes naked and then maul you."

And now lying down in Ray's bed, the cream sheets a gold color in the dim bedside light, almost Ray's skin color, and the universal air-feeling for this was "Hi; you're really here, and I am too, and...you look nice, look really nice--like it, really. I hope you like the way I look. I mean, I think it's okay, no big stud muffin but I'm not so bad, but still I hope you like it, me I mean, really hope so. Y'know I feel a little weird, how 'bout you?" All communicated just as clearly with looks and a repertoire of smiles and other expressions as with words. Awkward, but okay. Snickery, but still easy. Like a "Let's not go to Camelot, 'tis a silly place" joke would be good, if one came up, or "I like looking at your eyes, the way they change color in the light, or when you're thinking" comment, made a little shyly, would be nice, too.

Ray was stroking Fraser's hair, moved in close, with a final smile into Fraser's eyes while they were still far enough apart to focus on each other's faces before they got too close with the pressing-together for a second. And, oh, God--

Ray had rolled over on Fraser, intending to kind of tent up on him, kind of a chick pose, knees pulled up, uglies pressing, legs tucked under Fraser's sides, arms under his back, kissing around on his face--but Fraser had spread his legs a little and instead he had Ray, cradled in his thighs and knees, while Ray held him around the back, hands on his shoulderblades, supporting some weight with his elbows, Fraser supporting the rest, and Fraser's arms were around him too, and one hand had it's fingers sunk in Ray's hair spikes, trapped in there by the glued-together ends in a couple of places, but Fraser's hands were gentle, and Fraser was looking at him like he was a baby, that same tenderness in the eyes, and Ray was smiling, not really knowing what to say--

--and then it happened, and Fraser's limbs all went tight and squashed Ray to him so hard Ray had to gasp for a second, and Fraser was hiding his face in Ray's neck, and he was shaking with tension, shaking only a little but the tension went right to the bones.

"Fraser?" Oh, geez-- "Frase, baby--" watch the mouth, Kowalski, the horses are scared enough, the horses are lunging in their traces, the horses are screaming--but he couldn't help it, that stuff kept coming out. "Baby, what's the matter? You got me, I'm here--" And boy did Fraser ever have him, each limb would have to be pried off one at a time if Ray wanted loose, and Ray knew Fraser would let it happen if Ray did it, but Fraser sure couldn't do it--Fraser couldn't even lift his head and meet Ray's eyes, when he'd been just looking so soft a minute ago...

"Baby, you--I guess I didn't think to ask, you didn't seem like...you ever done this with guys?"

Fraser could only shake with tension that made even Ray's bones hurt and didn't answer, though he made some noises in his throat like he might be trying to swallow.

Oh, jeez, knowing Frase-- "Look, Fraser, it's okay, whatever it is, it's okay. You don't have to talk. You don't have to do anything. If you just need to lie there and hang on, you got me, I'm here. Hey, I'm not even doing the work, you got me in like Flynn here." In like Flynn? Well, keep babbling, maybe something a little more helpful would come out. "I don't think you're having a seizure, cause there's no--"

"Mng," Fraser managed, in a voice about an octave higher than his usual, and Ray managed to get his head backed up enough to see that Fraser was trying to shake his head, but he couldn't, plus his eyes were all crinkled at the corners like when he smiled real big, except he wasn't smiling, he was grimacing, and it hurt just to look at, he looked like a scared little kid who happened to be a thirty-eight-year-old man. But his face was back in Ray's neck in about a picosecond, just long enough that Ray could see he'd been trying to say no, no seizure.

"You know what's happening?"

"Mng," the same desperate sound again, except a little quieter and more desperate and with a reversed, painful-sounding sob noise in it.

"I think I know what's happening, Frase. I think it's a panic attack. There's lots of kinds--ow--I understand, you don't think so, you can stop shaking your head, I get you. Frase--baby, you're not scared of anything, anything at all. Except maybe this. Except maybe someone you...really like, gettin' close to you, and gettin' close to them, and...that never works for you. Maybe that's partly because--"

"Mmmeeeng!" Fraser's noise was desperate and he clenched tighter than ever, rocking back and forth a little.

Okay, no more babbling, this guy didn't need to think, didn't want to think, the poor bastard probably couldn't think and that was scaring him to death. He couldn't have any idea what was happening to him, why he was feeling this way. Ray'd had this shit, it always sucked, but eventually, if it happened enough, in whatever way, you got to where you at least knew what it was, you could wait it out, though it always left you feeling like something that was starting to stink on the highway shoulder. Poor Fraser was close to forty and hadn't ever had the slightest clue about this.

"Baby, you're gonna be okay. I'm not telling you nothing's wrong and I'm not trying to blow it off, but whatever's wrong, we'll find out when you can, okay, and I'm right here, even if you let go of me I won't leave, and you don't have to let go of me if you don't want. I won't leave. I won't leave." Ray remembered how important it was not to feel like you were going to be abandoned and alone when this happened, that it was half the fear, sometimes the trigger for the whole thing, but even if not, it was at least always a big issue.

"I love you, Fraser. Baby. Shh--I don't care how, let's not worry about how right now, but I look at you and whenever I look at you I'm loving the guy I'm looking at, who cares whether I want his untarnished virtue or whatever. I love you. Fucking, that's around somewhere, let's not worry about it yet, it'll roll around again if we want. Meantime I'm not going anywhere. Forget the fucking and what have you for now. We'll figure this out. Frase...Fraser. Frase. I like your name. It's a soft name, you leave off the 'ur' part. Sounds like air, like a wing beating through air. 'frasssefrasssefrassse...'" Ray rapid-whispered a wingbeat and felt a tiny fraction of tension in Fraser's body ease, though Fraser couldn't manage a chuckle for him.

That's it, let him know you're interested in him, focused on him, that you're not leaving him even to go distract yourself in some other part of your mind. It made Fraser sound like he was terrified of not being the center of attention, but that wasn't it--he was terrified of vanishing from Ray's radar entirely. "Like the feather in the dreamcatcher. I like the little beads you put in on the strings, the glass ones, obsidian? Early in the morning, they glow in the light." Ray had enough room to kiss Fraser's temple and cheekbone, and did so, a soft little line of kisses peppering gently along the crinkles in his fear-crumpled face. "Gonna get maudlin, take your loved ones and move to higher ground, but the blue one goes with your eyes. Kinda blue-grey, dark like that. Didn't know they had so many colors of obsidian. I mean, I know some sand is obsidian, you told me that, and that it can come in lots of colors. Like the blue-green Volcanic stuff. Mt. St. Helen's obsidian, that really bright clear blue-green. Or black, or smokey. Smokey obsidian. Not the same as smokey quartz, that's a stone, you said, a crystal, not a real viscous liquid like obsidian, which is glass." Ray paused and kissed on Fraser's hair for a while. "You told me all that. See, I listen sometimes. I listen more often than I really let you guess, I guess, you know?"

He was nuzzling in Fraser's hair, sniffing and rubbing his cheek in the sheeny softness of it. "Hair is horny stuff," he said, once again telling Fraser back some of the stuff Fraser, at some point, had told him. "Not like it's got horns, but it's a 'horn epidermal outgrowth' or something like that, you said...um, fingernails are like it. So are antlers. I guess antlery stuff is what I meant, because you said when moose shed, they shed antlers. Animals with horns keep 'em, they're bone, part of the animal's skull. But things that shed are like hair, antlers, feathers, feathers in the air, frasssefrassefrassse--they make that sound, they separate on the way up, the featherlets, pinions? The tiny hairfeathers that make up a whole feather--and air goes through them. They close on the way down, and make a solid planing surface. Owls and night hunters have built-in mufflers so their feathers don't say frasssefrasssefrassse, I saw 'em make an owl bait on Mutual of Omaha--that's what they call it, you said that, baiting, when the bird doesn't fly, just flaps its wings like it's going to or it wants to get rebalanced. When they mantle is when they get all shouldery, shufflin' back and forth, and bob their heads, like they're pissed or they're gonna take off and fly any second."

Fraser was still clinging tight, he still couldn't take his face out of Ray's neck, and Ray understood that Fraser was *embarrassed--some part of him suddenly couldn't understand how he had gotten here, and had no idea what he was gonna do about it, he'd just imploded in there someplace and now he was mortified. If he kept Ray still and tight and his face hidden in Ray's neck, it might all just go away, eventually he'd get too tired, Ray would get too tired, they'd both just fall asleep or the light bulb would explode and it would be dark and he could get away, or it would--anything, something, just anything, Fraser was trapped down there, trapped under Ray with no way out past him. And the only reason he was so scared, the only reason he needed out at all, was because he was afraid Ray wouldn't like what he saw. Or felt, or heard, or whatever.

"You can make me stay here all night like a bug in a whattayacallit, a flytrap, trapped squished in a sticky Venus' flytrap, and I'm still gonna love you, Fraser, I'm sorry, there's nothing you can do about it. You could even look me in the face and I'd love you. You could cry like a baby and I'd love you. You could shit the bed and I'd love you. I'd hate how bad you'd feel and I'd wanna help, do anything at all to help, but I'd love you. You're my friend for always, man, always. That doesn't ask for anything back. That just is." Ray put his face in Fraser's hair and breathed in, listened to Fraser's pained little breath-noises for a moment--god, he was so tense he could hear all the muscles in Fraser's throat fighting each other, the weird clicking wet noises, tiny unh-unh-unh noises even he could barely hear and he was as close as you could get to them, they sounded like pushing, like when you were trying to take a dump that wasn't really there or bear down so hard against a pain that was worse than all the other pain you'd had because the other pain was longer but spread out and this was all right here right now, like--like Fraser was gonna hurt himself, like a person really having a seizure, he was that messed up, that tensed up strange and so hard and bad, and tears came to Ray's eyes and he said "I love you, Fraser, I'm sorry," and faster than he could blink he grabbed the glass of water on the bedside table and dashed it hard into Fraser's face, up from the chin so it'd go up his nose and everything. Harder tense and Ray felt it and Ray bit Fraser on the shoulder right after the water and Fraser's body contorted and he made a high-pitched tiny choke and his eyes opened all crushed tight at the corners and Ray smacked him hard across the face and flipped him and threw him off the bed, bam, hard bodyslam onto the floor, just not hitting his head, didn't let go of his shoulders and slammed him into the floor again twice more bam-bam so hard and so fast it was only a blur and then Fraser was twitching, a big convulsion, and he threw up hard, harder than Ray had ever seen a guy heave, it just blew, probably didn't even touch the inside of his mouth on the way out, one long hard arc of whatever had made it last into the Fry Baby and whatever else, to smack in an almost perfectly symmetrical splash-out against the wood floor.

Fraser was making tiny noises and shaking his head real fast but oh thank God he was starting to sag, twitching really ugly and weird, spasms, strange ones, and Ray leaped up with his arms wrapped around Fraser's chest from behind and dragged him into the bathroom and turned the water on in the tub, and the thundering noise seemed to scare Fraser, he struggled like a little kid, just thrashing, and Ray yelled "it's okay, baby, it'll be warm, I'll be with you, it's okay, it's okay--here, it's warm, come on--"

And Fraser let out a howl, like an abandoned puppy only grown up and powerful and scared and violent, and Ray knew he could be in some seriously bad shit here when Fraser grabbed at Ray, but he clung to Ray, he was trying to climb into Ray, trying to get right in and hang on, and that was good, that was better, much better. Ray was hauling them into the water now, the tub was filling but he got them in first, and he reassured Fraser that this thing he was doing right now, bending him down with his face near the flow of water with a hard grip on his shoulders, was a good thing, by saying, while he did it, "Don't stick your face in, get just a mouthful, only a mouthful, some water to rinse with, right? There you go, that's right, that's good, rinse around, spit it out over the side, there you go. Do it again, good baby, that's good, rinse rinse, that's good, spit it on the floor, that's good, good baby, good baby, good baby, just right, you're doing everything just right, you are perfect, sweetheart, that's perfect, that's so perfect. I love you, Frase. Come here, hold on to me and shake, I'm gonna make the water warmer, it'll keep us nice and warm, and you just squeeze me hard and shake. That's right, that's just right. That's perfect. You're good at this. You're so good at this. You've got it down, you've got it perfect. Ah, Frase, I love you so much. You feel good to me. You feel good against me, right here, holding on to me. More water? Oh, gotta--good, good, that's just right, an' you got up there all on your own," Ray praised him in a voice so full of sincerity he wondered whose it was as Fraser threw up again, and again, into the toilet, which was just close enough for it if he got up on his knees in the tub and leaned on the edge of it. "That's just right. You're battin' a thousand, here, buddy, you got it down. You just puke it all up there, keep it up 'til you feel done. When you feel like it, you can tell me what to do, when you want, okay? You know just what you're doing, you got it so good and I'm so proud of you, I'm not kidding here, this is so hard what you're doing and I won't tell you anything to do any more unless you want me to. You can tell me now, you tell me what you need next, what you need me to do. You don't have to say it, just do it, just show me, I'll pay attention, don't worry. I'll be watching. Man, I am so fucking proud of you. You are so brave and so strong and you do it for me so big time. God. I love you. I love you, Fraser. Please stay with me. Don't get mad at me for being here and go away. I wanna be with you, I want to be here. Stay in the warm with me...here, yeah, more water, rinse some more...I'm not going anywhere, you just rinse, I'm coming right back--"

He'd never moved so fast in his life; frankly, the puke all over the three towels now on the fire escape hadn't even had time in Fraser's stomach to start smelling too much like puke, plus it'd been the stuff on the top, it still smelled mostly like dinner, so the smell in the bedroom wasn't bad at all, and Ray'd opened the bedroom window on his lightspeed way back into the bathroom, where he just dropped another towel where Fraser had been rinsing and spitting before he'd got the reaching-the-toilet thing down, rubbed it a few swipes, then flung it out into the hall and slammed the door and was back in the tub with Fraser. The tub was nearly full now with both of them in it, but he could keep the water running hot for a while longer anyway; it'd stay warm longer if there was more of it and Fraser needed the thundery noise to beat the rocks in his poor head into gravel and wash them away.

He was all weak and sweaty with the puking, the poor thing, he was huddled in the water and shaking, too weak, now, finally, finally too weak to tense up so hard he'd hurt himself. Ray, rather than trying to move him, got around him, arranged his body around Fraser's with Fraser inside his knees, and sitting up on his heels so he kind of arched over Fraser, holding him in a gentle grip with both arms around him in the position Fraser'd picked for himself, Ray not trying to move him.

"You are so brave," Ray kept whispering. "You are so brave."

"Mng--" Fraser made another sound, and his face contorted, and Ray nearly panicked, but then Fraser began to cry for real, and a rush of relief came all around Ray as he reached up to slap the water knob off and pulled Fraser in close as Fraser collapsed for him, right into him, and hid in Ray's chest and neck, but just hiding this time, trusting that Ray would let him stay there, not thinking that he was all by himself in that neck.

"All out of the blue," Ray whispered. "That must've scared you so bad. Oh, Frase, I wish I'd known. I would have helped."

"I wish too," Fraser managed, loud and snotty, still into Ray's neck, still with aimless climbing motions, clutching and then pulling away, like he couldn't bear to be where he was and he couldn't bear to let go, he couldn't bear to let Ray see him and he couldn't--he couldn't--

"Why?" he demanded finally, still crying, still not looking.

"Why what's happening? I dunno exactly, buddy, but I bet you were starting to really feel some way you're scared to feel. Maybe it's been building up with us and finally it just cracked. And I dunno why you'd be scared to feel it, I'm sorry, I'd like to be able to tell you all that."

"No, why...you? Why this? Ray--" he drew in a ragged breath and wiped his face with a long swipe of his arm, which works better when you're in the water, and said "I puked on your floor! I--couldn't--Ray, I--I just--"

"I know what just happened. I told you, I--"

"Why are you...you can't..."

Oh, okay. Fraser was scared this was all pity and once he had his shit together enough to leave, Ray would be donesky, or at least they'd never be supposed to be mention it again. That he had gotten close and Ray had seen this, and that this would be the end of close for Ray, and the horrible thing was, Ray could see his point, because if their positions were reversed Ray would have felt the same way.

"I know how you feel, that I'm not gonna want you now, not as close as we were getting, maybe not even as close as we've been before, but you're wrong. I don't blame you if you don't believe me now. I won't be mad if you don't believe me now. I wouldn't believe me now, either. I'm gonna have to prove to you that I'm not wanting you any less now than I did. I don't know what happened, baby, not exactly, but I'm willing to help you try to find out. I could never leave you alone with that. I'm not leaving you alone with it tonight, for one thing. You're staying here, and we're calling in with the vicious food poisoning runs tomorrow. I screwed up the burgers or something, I lie just fine, you do too, you can do it so you aren't even lying. And you're going to rest and I'm going to stay with you and bring you stuff to eat you won't eat 'cause it's bad for you, and make you watch TV that you think is an insult to your intelligence, and Turnbull will bring Dief over and I will get the door, looking appropriately green, and Turnbull will give me a bad-food remedy his sainted aunt always made for him, and I'll thank him and look big-eyed and like I gotta go, and he'll say bye and run, and I'll shut the door--"

Fraser had to know that Ray was trying to make him smile, but he didn't seem to mind. He didn't let go of Ray, and he was still crying, but it wasn't as loud and desperate. That was okay with Ray. Fraser could cry all night if that was what Fraser wanted, because Fraser had just as much fucking right as anybody. And Ray would soak up all the snot, and that was fine too. But they'd have to get out of the tub now, because Fraser's shaking had calmed a fair amount, and Ray thought he could keep him good and warm fine in the bed; and besides, if Ray wasn't mistaken, at some point, Fraser had kinda peed the water a little, Ray was pretty sure. Fraser didn't seem to be aware of it, so it couldn't've been much, or maybe it'd happened while he was puking. You lost fucking sweat and tears and snot from puking, too; pee was a new one on Ray, but it sounded plausible. Ordinarily there'd be no chance of keeping it from Fraser, but it was dim in the bathroom, only one of the bulbs in the fixture was working, and Fraser was still clinging to Ray and hiding, both in Ray and deep inside himself, and he was probably more stuffed up right now than he'd ever been in his life.

So Ray was able to get them stood up and hit the tub drain, then just stood there rocking Fraser for a minute, telling him they were gonna have a shower, to make sure Fraser was warmed up all the way and besides, they were here and it'd make them feel better--all of which was true--while most of the peed-in water drained away. Pee could give you a nasty itch, obviously, but it was sterile; a healthy person's pee wasn't dangerous to get on you in any way but the ick factor.

Then he started the shower low enough that the water would still drain faster than the tub filled, and rather than try to make poor Fraser set the lead even for how they were gonna shower, he just calmly took the soap and started to bathe Fraser, like he'd have bathed a scared kid that the evidence people had finally allowed to be cleaned up--gentle but neutral, just a careful, considerate wash here, nothing else. Fraser didn't meet his eyes, but he didn't try to stop him, nor did he make any move to leave the shower after Ray rinsed him and said "I'll just be a second here" and soaped up and rinsed off, glad, in terms of saving time, that he no longer shaved some of the stuff he used to shave, and leaving off most of the time he spent on his hair to keep it from looking like a dandelion puff. Fraser just kind of stood leaning with his head against the tile, arms folded, where he was still in the warm spray but not in Ray's way much, waiting.

There were still a couple of clean towels--Ray would have grabbed dirty ones for the puke but he'd been aiming to get back into that tub without ever having actually left it and there was no time for niceties--and Ray gently helped Fraser rub himself down; he then started to scrub off quickly, but paused and slowed down, following the lead, when Fraser hesitantly began to stroke his own damp towel over Ray's drippy back. Ray smiled very briefly at Fraser but didn't hold his eyes long enough to make him nervous, and they dried Ray, and Ray carefully hung up the towels to dry. If said towels had to, they'd last for a few days, if he couldn't get any laundry done, before they started to smell like old towel, as long as he was careful to let them dry hung-up in the open-doored bathroom.

He said "C'mon, I got some stuff for you," before they'd even turned for the door, then took Fraser's hand and turned him, and they went back in the bedroom, where Ray pulled some old shorts and sweats, clean because he never wore them because they were stretched out, from his dresser, and found an oversized t-shirt, of which he had plenty, and some one-size-fits-all socks--hey, he was really better prepared for this sleepover shit than he'd thought, he noted with some pride--which amused him--and got dressed in the same sort of things while kind of helping Fraser dress, but not really. That was, not putting the clothes on him, but tugging the side of the sweats up over the shorts, stroking the t-shirt down over his back a little, that kind of thing. Touches that said "everything is still okay with you and me and I like you wearing my clothes" rather than "you're a basket case who can't dress himself".

"Hm." Ray made the sound as he jerked his head toward the bed and went to it, lifting the covers to invite Fraser in--then dropping them again; the sweat stains were visible. "And I got no clean ones. But what I do got--no, baby, c'mere--" he reached for Fraser with both arms and sat down with him on the foot of the bed, turning to tuck one leg up so he could wrap himself warmly around the still-lightly-trembling Fraser. "I do got plenty of soft extra blankets. We'll be snug as bugs. Just lemme go get 'em from the trunk in the front room, okay? Or do you wanna come with me, maybe? I just thought I might wrap the top blanket around you here and you could stay all warm from the shower, right?"

Fraser managed to look up at him...then seemed to be looking past him. His eyes widened, and Ray turned, but there was nothing back there but the dreamcatcher Ray had hung above the bed over near the window.

Fraser's eyes turned back to Ray and he took a deep breath, and sniffed, and said "I'll be fine. Go ahead."

"You won't be thinking any weird things like that maybe I'm just being nice with all this or anything if I leave you alone, will you?"

This time there was actually a tiny smile, as Fraser's eyes seemed to focus somewhere, half-focus, at least, in the middle distance off toward the window again. "I won't think any weird things. Not like that, at least."

Ray got up, lifting the blanket loose from the bedclothes and draping it over Fraser, then wrapping it around him, making a little show of getting it all tidy--"sorry no hospital corners"--which didn't get another smile, but Fraser did nod a little, like "I would like to smile at that, but I'm afraid I can't smile at all at the moment, really".

Ray got that, completely.

He went out in the front room and rummaged for the blankets in question, which were indeed soft and quite suitable for sleeping on all on their own--they'd been expensive, part of a set he and Stella'd been putting together for a guest bed that lay in the future they'd never had; he got the blankets because they didn't go with anything, the ensemble never having been completed.

When he came back he could have sworn he'd heard Fraser whispering--the words "I know" and "thank you" stood out, but he hadn't been able to make out any of the rest. He figured he'd misheard, that it was just Fraser peptalking himself, which he did when he thought nobody could hear him, Ray knew.

"Okay, move over here for just a minute..." he stripped the bed with a few rough yanks, then settled the first blanket over it after a few misfired lift-and-snaps; on the last one, Fraser released his hold on the blanket still wrapped around him with one hand, to catch a corner as it settled and guide it a little, gently, to where Ray was trying to aim it.

"Thanks." Ray smiled and began to tuck; the mattress pad was soon covered by a fuzzy sky-blue blanket that still, when Ray checked, smelled like fabric softener. He'd been afraid dust would assail Fraser's slowly-clearing nose, but it looked like they'd be okay.

He got the other blanket on top--this one a forest green, the spread they'd been going to use being a blend of the two colors--and tucked it in at the foot. The pillows were all right, and he pulled them out of their nest of sheet at the foot of the bed, then went to stuff the sheets in the hamper. The towels on the fire escape could stay there. He could not seriously imagine anybody at all wanting them, and if they were that desperate, they could have them with Ray's compliments.

Fraser was sitting on the bed, on the side near the window, when Ray came back, his head hanging. He looked up, when Ray sat next to him, and barely whispered "Do you want me to talk?"

"Not right now, no, if you don't fee like it, and you make it pretty obvious you don't, so don't worry about that. You just did a really hard thing and you deserve some rest. We'll do talking later. But really, it wasn't about me at all, Fraser. This is your business, and I'm your friend, and I love you, and I won't leave you alone with it, no matter what, even if you try to run from me I'll chase you. But I'll let you handle it how you want to. The only thing I gotta insist on is that you let me be here. Just here. Just around. It ain't my place to run the show. Okay, not after tonight and tomorrow, you need a little looking after. You're gonna be weak. But I won't make you do anything you really don't want to do. Ever."

Fraser's eyes dropped to the floor again. "I don't see how you can say that it isn't about you. I...you...we were...and...then I...Ray, I'm a grown man, past grown and quickly entering the hill-cresting stage. How in the world could I have done that to you? You, of all people?"

"Fraser! Baby, you didn't do anything to me. Something really nasty happened, but it happened to you, you didn't do it. I was only involved 'cause I was, well, there, the catalyst, maybe, out of a lot of things that probably matter about it, about the whole thing. I am not some asshole who gets pissy if he doesn't get his jism call when he gets in bed with somebody, and I am not some selfish shit who gets bored if he actually has to do the caring parts of being a friend, the parts that take some involvement by your heart, as well as the easy parts. And maybe I should warn you that there is a lot of involvement by my heart here, Frase. No, no, baby--c'mere--" Ray pulled him close again, then began to get them both under the covers, Fraser still in his extra blanket as well as his sweats-and-tee outfit.

When they were there, Ray finished "Don't look like that when I say I care about you a lot, okay, Fraser? I'm not saying that to put an obligation on you. I'm saying that so you'll know you have a place to come with this thing, whatever it is, so you'll know how much I want to be your place to come, if you'll let me be. I can't fix anything for you. I can't even fix my own shit. But I'm here and I want to keep being here if you'll just let me. I'm really here. You're not alone in this room, in your head, in your self, with just another warm body."

Fraser smiled again, his gaze drifting toward the windows. He whispered "I know that. I...realized that, in the bathtub. That you were...here with me, the way you mean. I just...hope I can keep believing it. It's so hard to believe, Ray," he said, and whimpered softly as his eyes closed. "So hard to believe, in you, in this..."

"I know, you don't have much luck with believing, though you do it every day--as long as it ain't your own heart under discussion. Fraser, you gotta understand something, I don't care what else you believe, you gotta believe this. What I was saying to you, while you were doing what you were doing, was true. That was the fucking bravest thing I've ever seen you do. I mean, jumping onto cars and getting knives thrown at you and stuff is basically just stupid, though it's stupidity I kinda have to respect. And it's part of you, part of what makes you Fraser. But this...this took more balls than I would ever, ever have. I know you well enough to know you could have run from that. But you didn't. You went through it. And you are so brave for it. There might even be more of it, and I know you won't run from it then either."

Fraser shook his head slowly on the pillow. "I don't understand..." there was a pause, and, to Ray's puzzlement but pleasure, he smiled again, a very little one. "But maybe I will, someday. Yes. Thank you. Whenever...whenever he's not, yes. I believe you."

"Frase...whenever who's not? Not what?"

"Diefenbaker. When he's not with me. You'll...you'll care as unconditionally as that. Someday, I hope I'll believe that."

"I hope you will too, 'cause it's true already. Can I move this on top?" Ray lightly grasped the edge of Fraser's extra blanket, Ray's normal summerweight one. "I wanna snuggle up and keep you warm myself."

Fraser's head turned on the pillow, and he smiled again, this one almost looking like one of the soft smiles he'd given Ray before that horrible big freeze hit him. Except his eyes hadn't been bloodshot and he hadn't been puffy and red-nosed and otherwise looking cried-out and shower-damp and human. "I'd like that very much."

Ray rearranged the blankets, then the two of them, Fraser taking enough initiative to help, getting them settled; Ray'd tried to spoon them up with himself in back, but Fraser wanted to do it the other way, holding on to Ray, his face in the back of Ray's neck this time, with Ray in front of him, and the window and the dreamcatcher and whatnot at his own back.

"I love you, Fraser," Ray whispered. "Frasssefrasssefrassse...I know it's early, but you're beat, and I'm beat for you. We'll get a nap, maybe, or you might even sleep through. Whatever. Anything's cool, baby."

"Do...have you often called people that?"

Ray paused, thinking, then said "Oh, uh...I'm kind of mushy that way. No, I haven't really, 'cause most people I've been close enough with to do it don't care much for it, but...I like to do it. It bug you? It bugs a lot of people."

"It doesn't bug me. I like it. Ray Vecchio has a nickname for me, though not as intimate, and I enjoy it."

"I can call you 'baby'? Really?"

"I wouldn't recommend it in company. I doubt either of us would hear the end of it."

"Oh hell no. Bad idea, with a capital bad. But I think I can keep it separated, y'know?" He squeezed Fraser's arms where they were wrapped around his middle. "Baby. Love you, baby. And don't think you have to say that back. You might not feel ready, or you might not like to say it--some people just don't, lots of reasons why--so--"

"I do love you, Ray. I think I've said so."

"Oh. I mean...I know. I just kinda started meaning it the mushy way too in there somewhere. The 'you know' way. If you say you love me, I won't automatically--"

"I'm in love with you, Ray."

"Don't jump in right now, baby, all right? Let it settle. You're blown apart and scared. I am going absolutely nowhere, gonna be sticking with you like glue, so no hurry, take your time, okay? Hm? Okay?"

"Okay, sweetheart."

Ray grinned. "Well, okay, then."

"Maybe someday...you can explain to me why. All this...thinking I'm...and I'll understand."

"You will. You said you would."

"Yes. I did say that." Fraser sighed, then fell quiet a while. It didn't take long for his breathing to regulate, his body to begin to relax, muscle by aching muscle.

"Love you," Ray whispered again, contentedly, almost asleep himself, as he squeezed Fraser's hand a little.

He felt a pat on his shoulder. "See that you do."

"Hnm?" A gruff, older man's voice. He got one eye almost open, but forgot what he was supposed to be looking for, let it close again, and slept.

End Fissure by Blue Champagne: bluecham@mindspring.com

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