Disclaimer: The guyz don't belong to me, but the ideas do.

Author's Notes: Thanks to Anita and karen/s - they're will me every step of the way.

Story Notes: No spoilers that I'm aware of.

It'll Get Better April, 2004
By Bridget Cochran

(dS, F/K, PG-13 for bad words and adult situations)

Authors note: I started this story years ago. Yep, years. I was twitchy Sunday, too much rain, too much introspection, so I was in the mood again for Angry!Ray. For Anita and Karen/s, who stick with me, no matter what. Any mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: AA owns everything, but the ideas. They're mine.

>>><<<

Ray was angry. Not just "you-took-my-parking-space-butt-plate" angry, but bone rattling, soul shaking angry. He didn't remember the last time anger bounced around the inside of his skull like this, wanting to get out. Definitely a good thing he left his pistol locked in the bottom drawer of his desk. Or else he'd been giving new meaning to the phrase 'gone postal'.

He was outside the Consulate, hands gripped on the wheel like rigor mortis, vaguely aware that he'd driven there from the precinct. He'd come there without thinking, like it was the only place to go.

"Fraser, you got enough stuff to make two bedrolls?" Nope. No small talk tonight.

Fraser scratched his ear, not hiding his confusion very well, looking up into the night sky. "Why, yes. However, I have no tent nor-"

"Don't need a tent. Don't want one. Just the bedrolls and the sky." Ray squinted at Fraser. "You don't want to go, say the word. I'm good. I'll go by myself."

That was the right button to push. Fraser straightened, a frown marring his brow. "No need to go by yourself. If you'd care to walk Diefenbaker, I'll be only a moment."

That's what he wanted to hear. Dief was sliding by him as he moved the seat back forward.

"Shall I put together some provisions?"

"Nah." Didn't want to waste the time. "We'll pick something up on the way out of town."

He was leaning against the GTO when his partner emerged from the big double doors with two rolls, one with a leather strap, the other with a knotted piece of rope.

They picked up Italian grinders, no onions, sweet peppers in Fraser's, hot peppers in Ray's. A six pack of cold ones. And a couple of waters when Fraser gave him the look.

"What about breakfast, Ray?" he'd asked, all quiet and concerned.

Ray pushed air out through pursed lips. Like he gave a shit about tomorrow. "Not going to think about that."

Fraser stared at him as they walked back to the car. Then he stood staring at Ray over the roof of his car, compelling Ray to meet his eyes. "Understood," he said and got in.

That wasn't exactly sympathy, but he wasn't in the mood for it, whatever it was. He gunned the engine and shot off like a rocket, squealing tires, swerving rear end. The whole macho nine yards. Like that was going to make him feel better.

They headed up the North Shore and out of town toward the wide open spaces. As wide open as Ray got in Metro Chicago. In March. On a Friday night. When life sucked dog shit.

The music was on loud. Ear bleeding music, bass beating deep in his head, down his spine. They had the windows open. Sticky and humid for March. Air hard to breathe. Seemed about right for his mood.

Pulling into the park, he headed straight for the lake and a deserted parking lot that took them right to lake side. A boat ramp shown in the headlights, the black, sparkling water just beyond.

The car in park, keys on the dash board, Ray was out of the car with the six pack and the bag of sandwiches. Ben joined him after letting Diefenbaker out to explore. Setting the torn paper bag between them, creating a drop cloth on the hood, Ray bit into his sandwich. Might as well be window putty for all he tasted it. The brews tasted better, they had a bitterness he could really understand right now. He chewed and sipped his way through most of the sandwich before he fed what was left in the heel of the roll to Dief.

Then the rain began. Big, fat drops of ice cold rain. "God - fucking - damn it," Ray swore viciously, launching him off the hood of the car. "Damn it." The rain started hard and got harder by the minute. Ray grabbed the beer. As an after thought, he brought the water, too.

"Nah. You stay in the front, mutt." When Dief whined, Ray narrowed his eyes. "Maybe you want out under the car?" The wolf lowered his head to his paws.

"Ray?"

"We're getting in the back. We can lay out in the back." Ray didn't look at Fraser. He didn't want to see any questions in the guy's eyes. He just didn't want to go back to life right now. He wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. If it was in his car in the rain in the middle of no where, so what?

He was chilled by the time they got the car door shut. Now he had to look at Fraser's eyes to ask if this was okay, but the questions were there. Two grown men in the backseat of an old GM product on a rainy Friday night. Yeah, he could see how Fraser might have questions.

"You want to open one of those rolls?"

Without a word, Fraser did just that. Reaching for the one with the leather strap, he undid with the skill of someone who'd done this a lot. Opened up a bedroll to sleep out in the wilderness, or tundra or somewhere. Ray watched him unfurl the blankets, discarding the small tarp that probably got spread on the damp ground. With the blankets open, Fraser looked at him again, wondering what to do next.

"Lay back," he told him. Fraser wasn't usually this good about following orders. That, and Ray was never much for giving orders. But tonight was different. Way different.

Ray waited while Fraser settle back against the side of the car. Taking the blankets from his friend, he turned and eased himself back against Fraser. Spreading his legs to accommodate Ray's body, Fraser dropped a booted foot to the floor board.

Ray adjusted himself against his warm back rest. "Unbutton your jacket," he said, moving up while Fraser opened his wool buffalo plaid jacket. Ray pulled his leather off and draped it over himself. He was shivering now. Holding his jacket in place, he covered them with the blankets. A stuttering sigh that held more than the shivering came from deep in Ray's gut. The torrents of rain buffeted the Goat, pounding into the metal like a hammer on Ray's head.

Shared body heat was his excuse - he needed it to get warm again. It was bullshit. Ray needed to be close to someone, to touch and feel. Plain and simple. And the only one he was close to, close enough to trust was Fraser.

Obviously, the guy had no idea what the deal was. He was sitting stiffly, his hands held rigid on his own thighs. Fuck that, Ray thought, pulling them further under the covers onto his t-shirt covered belly. "This okay?" he asked, not sure what he'd do if Fraser said no.

"Whatever you like, Ray."

Right. Ray rested his head back on Fraser's collar bone and gave into the pain, anger and grief. He wasn't ready to cry, not yet, but he let out another deep, pained sigh. He turned his head until his forehead came into contact with Fraser's chin.

Today sucked worse than most. "How can people do that to kids?" It was rhetorical and Fraser stayed quiet. "They were just little kids, they needed love, not that freak." Okay. He couldn't talk about this anymore. It made the beer and sub in his stomach want to come right back up.

"Drugs ruin people's lives." Yep, that was Fraser: the walking public service announcement.

"No shit," Ray muttered.

"None," Fraser whispered pretty close to Ray's ear.

Ray was quiet for a while, feeling his bones relax into Fraser. He raised his head to raise a little to rub his stubbled cheek against his partner's face. "You freaking out here, Fraser?" he asked quietly.

"Possibly," Fraser said. Ray tried to pull away from Fraser, but wasn't allowed. The hand around his waist tightened, making him stay put. "But I'm here to stay."

Ray settled again and felt the well of pain begin to bubble up. A tear squeezed out of the side of his eye, then another. The sobs were great gusts of agony pulled from the bottom of his heart. Dead bodies always effected Ray - a reason he could never have been a meat packer like his dad. But dead kids, little kids, that ate Ray's soul like fucking battery acid.

Fraser grasped his hand, turning it over to clasp it. Ray liked that and let him lace their fingers together. "I hate feeling like this," Ray sniffed. Fraser jostled him a little in an effort to get Ray a handkerchief. Ray blew his nose loud and long. Resting back on Fraser, he rootched until he was comfortable again.

"Ray."

"Yeah, Fraser?"

"Will you be still soon?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Good."

Their fingers were still entwined and Fraser had started rubbing soothing circles on his abdomen. That felt nice. Felt nice when the fingers moved past his t-shirt and onto his belly. Ray raised his cheek to Fraser's again. "You okay with this."

"Quite."

"Quite?"

Fraser nodded against his face. It felt good and Ray nudged it back. "Will you sleep now?" Fraser asked.

"Yeah," Ray realized, "I could sleep." The tears were gone; the memories were fresh, but the tears were gone.

"Do they get to you, too?" Ray asked after several silent moments staring at rain drops trail down the car windows.

"Who, Ray?"

"Dead kids."

"Ah."

What 'ah'? "Do they?"

"They do." Fraser squeezed Ray's hand.

"But you don't freak out like me. Why's that?"

"Oh, I freak out, Ray. Don't ever doubt it."

Huh. "But you don't show it."

"No, I don't."

Ray frowned. "So, are you freaking out now?"

"Not about the children."

"No?" Ray craned his head around to look at Fraser. Fraser was flushed and no longer was looking at Ray. "What's the matter?"

A small twitch behind him made Ray focus lower. Oh. Oh. "Oh. Shit. Sorry." That was a boner sliding along Ray's butt. He eased up off it, but didn't move out of Fraser's arms, he didn't let go of the warm hand still clasping his.

"Ray, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Ray turned in his arms to get a good look at his partner. "Looks like I made you uncomfortable." He paused, "you know, with the space invasion."

"I - I, " Fraser stuttered and Ray had to smile. It felt good to smile. "No problem, Benton buddy, normal physical reaction. Mr. PeePee likes a little friction. I get that."

Fraser blushed deeper. "Really, Ray, I must apo-"

"Nah, nah, you don't, Fraser." Ray was more than willing to let him off the hook dick-wise, but he wasn't letting go of Fraser's hand. "If you're not comfortable with me laying in your arms, you just have to tell me."

They stared at each other in silence. Ray didn't have clue one what was going through the Mountie's mind, but his color was still high. After a pretty severe crack of the neck, Fraser said, "I'm not uncomfortable at all with you in my arms." Fraser couldn't possibly see outside of the car, the windows were all fogged up, yet he continued to avoid Ray's eyes.

But he'd said it. Ray heard it. Something just happened. A declaration was just made. A line was just crossed. "Good," Ray said. "Good." He left go of Fraser's hand to pull the blankets from where they landed on the floor board. Resettling back against Fraser, Ray felt all his pent up anger and adrenaline drain out of him.

Fraser's arms came around him easily now, and Ray let bone and muscle melt into the strong, warm wall that held him safe. "We good?" Ray murmured.

"Always. All ways," Fraser said. Ray felt lips in his hair, then at his temple.

Yeah, they were good. A slow smile crossed Ray's face as he closed his eyes. Very good.

The end.

End It'll Get Better by BJCochran: bjcochran@epix.net

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