Author's Notes: Thanks to Belmanoir for a fantastic beta!

Story Notes: For Meresy! F/V/K, established relationship fic.

Likes Games

It was Sunday, and there was snow. A lot of snow. A fuck-ton of snow, Kowalski had said, when Ray'd asked him how much they'd gotten. Like it was an actual number or measurement they'd use on the news. Good morning, Chicago, we have a record fuck-ton of snow in some areas...

"It's Chicago," Kowalski had muttered, shrugging. "You never know." And there really was a lot of snow, enough to shut down business and schools all over the city, and it would have caused headaches getting to work if Ray and Kowalski hadn't had the day off.

Even Fraser was home, because he didn't work on Sundays anymore ("Is Canada closed on Sundays now?" Kowalski had asked suspiciously when Fraser told them, and Fraser had looked guilty and said something about labor laws, like he felt bad that he didn't have to work seven days a week), and that meant they were all home while the worst blizzard in Chicago's history dumped a rapidly increasing amount of snow outside their apartment.

The nice part was that they were all home for the day, with nothing to do.

The somewhat less-than-nice part was that they had nothing to do. And they had Kowalski, who was pacing like he was going crazy, acting like someone was bricking him up in a wall like that Edgar Allen Poe story. And that was really starting to sound like a nice fine plan to Ray, who was going to punch Kowalski in the face if he didn't stop it with the pacing and the incessant picking things up and putting them down in the wrong place.

The obvious answer of what they could do had already been done that morning, with the odd snow-reflected light drifting in the bedroom window. Ray realized they should have waited, because Kowalski didn't reach his critical-energy levels until after three cups of coffee, and he had been languid and slow that morning in bed where he was all energy and sharp angles the rest of the time. Not that Ray wasn't feeling good and relaxed himself after a nice round of morning sex, and he'd been hoping that may make dealing with Kowalski-in-a-mood easier. He'd been wrong.

Right now, Kowalski was all energy and sharp angles on speed, bouncing on his feet like he did sometimes, before he started being random and hitting things, usually Ray. ("Fraser just looks at me, what the fuck, that's no fun. You hit back." Pause. "Like a girl, but at least you try." There was just no way to win with that guy, sometimes). This time, Ray was worried he was going to hit Kowalski back in a way that would start breaking things, and Fraser got--disappointed--when they did that. Fraser disappointed was Ray's least favorite thing in the world, because Fraser did disappointed like the Pope did Catholic, and there was only so much guilt Ray could handle in any given day.

"Kowalski," Ray said, exasperated, because Kowalski was staring outside at the snow like he was on the freaking Titanic, muttering about how the walls were fucking closing in even though they had a pretty nice, spacious apartment for downtown Chicago. "We sometimes spend the day in here with all three of us. Remember last month, we had that whole weekend where we didn't even leave and you spent the entire time in your pajama pants?"

"But we could have left," Kowalski said, pointing at him, his hair sticking up in ten thousand spikes, glasses perched on his nose. Kowalski was dressed weirder than usual, in blue plaid pajama pants and a long-sleeved black shirt with another, shorter-sleeved t-shirt over it, fingerless gloves and a pair of fuzzy socks that Ray would have sworn were for girls, and kept causing Kowalski to nearly fall over on the hardwood floors every time he moved.

"How did you grow up in Chicago if this freaks you out so much? We've had snow before."

"Did you not see the news, Vecchio? This is serious. What if I had something to do?"

"Do you?"

Kowalski glared at him. "No."

"Then why are you worrying so much?" Ray sipped his coffee, totally aware he was being an ass and unable to stop himself from doing it. Kowalski just made it so easy sometimes.

"I just don't want to be snowed in, okay?"

He must have been fun in Canada. Fraser was looking sharply at Kowalski, and Kowalski was studiously watching the floor, so that must be a thing, and Ray didn't want to get in the middle of it. "Kowalski, we live four stories up, I think we're gonna be okay. But if not, we'll carry you to safety. Or you can ride Dief."

Dief, who was curled up in front of sofa, raised his head and made a noise at that that clearly said, I don't think so.

Thank God they had garage parking, Ray thought wryly, because Kowalski would be losing it if he thought his car was getting covered by snow. Then again, Ray would have probably been out there with him. The GTO wasn't the Riv, but fuck if Ray didn't like that car almost as much as he liked Kowalski. Some days, actually, he liked the car more.

"Perhaps we could do something to entertain ourselves!" Fraser's voice, bright and chipper, and he kept looking out the window and smiling happily, as if the snowfall was some kind of present just for him. He'd been so happy that morning after they'd gotten out of bed, that he'd stood naked at the window in their bedroom, looked outside, and beamed. That's when Kowalski and Ray knew it was bad; Fraser always looked disappointed at the snowfalls in Chicago, like it was an appetizer before a meal that never came. If he was actually beaming, then they had a problem. The steak dinner had arrived, complete with baked potato.

Kowalski's eyes brightened at Fraser's suggestion--Kowalski was insatiable, God--and he grinned that slow, ruthless grin of his. "Yeah?" he asked, tilting his head, and Fraser smiled back, but when Kowalski tried to walk over to where Fraser was standing, his stupid socks slid on the hardwood and he stumbled, flailing madly, barely managing to catch himself on the sofa. "Fuck."

Ray's laughter pretty much ruined the mood.

"What we need, gentlemen, is something to occupy our minds, keep our senses sharp as we weather the storm. You know, my grandmother used to tell a story--" Fraser began, segueing into one of his Inuit stories, as sincere and faintly unbelievable as always. This one was about playing "find the Caribou nose" or something equally fantastic in a cabin the size of their bathroom.

"That'd be real hard," Ray said, casting his eyes upwards. "What'd that take you, six minutes?" Kowalski snorted in agreement. But Fraser was getting that look, so Ray said quickly, "We do have some board games." Why they had board games, he wasn't sure, but they were in the bottom of the closet in the guest room, beneath a box filled with some of Kowalski's "stupid records" and one box of Ray's "prissy shoes." They were probably there for the kids when they came to visit, though Kowalski entertained children far better than board games, probably because he acted like one half the time.

"I'm not playing Perfection," Kowalski said adamantly.

"It does tend to make you nervous," Fraser agreed.

"Everything makes Kowalski nervous." Ray rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "And we're not playing Trouble, that one just makes him mad."

"Because your niece cheats, Vecchio--"

"She's seven, Kowalski. And double-no to Sorry, not after we tried playing it on that stakeout when we were in that hotel room for sixteen hours."

"That one was all you, Vecchio," Kowalski interrupted, and then started smirking. "I can't believe you drew your gun--"

Ray shot him a look--that was one of the Things That Happened At Work That We Skim Over When We Tell Our Mutual Boyfriend About Our Day--and the penalty for divulging those things was steep. "Dishes for a week," Ray snapped, but Kowalski was grinning in that way he had, the one that suggested he didn't care because getting Ray in trouble was worth a week of dishes. "And Dewey could have won, he didn't need to knock my guy all the way back to home just to be an asshole. Fucker." Just remembering that made Ray want to punch someone. Preferably Kowalski for bringing it up.

Fraser went into the guest room-slash-office and came back out with two games stacked on top of each other, "We have two, once we've eliminated the games that make Ray nervous and angry, and Ray want to draw his firearm in a way that is completely morally wrong, in a way that is counter to everything his shield stands for." He gave Ray a serious look, teetering just on the edge of disappointed, and Ray vowed to kick Kowalski's ass at whatever game it was they ended up playing and then do it for real, later. "Trivial Pursuit and Monopoly."

"Uh-uh." Kowalski said darkly. "Not Trivial Pursuit. I fucking hate that game. No way."

"Ray," Fraser said, a small frown between his brows, "The pursuit of trivial knowledge can, at times, be the very thing that saves you in circumstances beyond your control. For example, that time in Canada when we found ourselves on thinning ice with those enraged mother seals, I knew what to do only because the answer to our problem was a clue in a crossword puzzle I once filled out while--"

"Fraser, the less we say about that, the better," Kowalski interrupted, pulling off his gloves and tossing the pair to the floor in the corner, vaguely near the bedroom, and that earned him the somewhat-disapproving look. Kowalski wasn't nearly as messy as Ray'd thought he'd be, but Kowalski had problems with clothing and putting it places where clothing was supposed to go. Ray, finally tired of trying to find his clothes amidst the sea of Kowalski's t-shirts shoved on the top shelf of the closet, raining down in a parade of cheap cotton and garish screen-printed designs, moved his stuff to the guest room and pretended not to notice when some of Fraser's things began appearing on hangers, seeking refuge.

"Lemme just tell you how this is gonna go," Kowalski said, standing sock-footed and pedantic in the living room, and Ray was torn between thinking he looked ridiculous and kind of oddly adorable. "Fraser will get all the questions right, but then piss us off"--here, he indicated Ray and himself--"when he finds wrong answers on the questions, like he did when we tried to play the last time--"

"--I just do not see how fact checking should be that hard," Fraser said, a bit stuffily. "And that's not really why ospreys do that with fish when they catch them. In point of fact, the aerodynamic--"

"Okay, see?" Kowalski demanded, pointing at Fraser. "You'll do that, and somehow you'll get all the little--whassit, those things, what d'you call them?" He looked at Ray, impatient, a ball of anxious energy. "The things you put in the whatchamacallit, the game piece you move around?"

"Pie pieces," Ray answered, pretending to cough, because Fraser still looked a little miffed about the osprey thing--he was muttering about reversible front toes, whatever that meant--and Ray couldn't believe Kowalski had just forgotten the phrase pie pieces, honestly, what the hell was wrong with those two?

"Right. That. So, Fraser gets them because he knows more useless shit than...the President of the Knowing Useless Shit Club, or whatever, and then he gets in the center with all the pie piece things and we have to pick the question he has to answer to win, and what happens next?"

"We give him Sports and Leisure questions," Ray answered immediately, hiding a grin in another cough. "And hope they're about baseball."

"We have baseball in Canada, Ray," Fraser said, and he looked annoyed again, but at least it wasn't about the fishing habits of birds.

"That's debatable, Fraser, but that's not my point. You'll luck out and get the hockey question, and win. Or, you know, Vecchio here'll get lucky and get questions like, who sang Billy Jean or something, and then, you two will battle it out for who's the biggest nerd and you know what I'll be doing while you're doing that?"

"You'll keep landing on People and Places and won't get a pie piece because you're shit with maps, Stanley," Ray said, gleeful.

"Right!" Kowalski exclaimed, punching his fist in the air, like Ray had just won him a million bucks in poker or something. His celebratory hand-gesture turned rapidly into a glare. "Fuck you, Vecchio," he muttered, but it was half-hearted at best. "So, you know, no thanks. I can feel dumb some other time, it's my day off."

For a moment Ray tensed and saw Fraser do the same, because sometimes Kowalski had a thing about that, about not feeling smart, even though he was a fucking brilliant detective and had the knack for it, had skills you couldn't learn in books. Still, it was a sore spot, and Kowalski was in a mood. Ray relaxed as Kowalski continued to rant, and the moment passed.

"And, you know, if we play that, I'll just get mad and start throwing things, and Vecchio'll get pissed at me, and then we'll get in a fight and prolly break something that belongs to Vecchio's great-grandma since he had to move all that sissy china in here--"

"It's not--they're crystal wine glasses, Kowalski, I'm sorry you don't have any class and drink everything out of a bottle."

"Monopoly it is, then," Fraser interrupted them, talking loudly, placing the box on the table and hustling back into the guest room with Trivial Pursuit beneath his arm, Kowalski staring at it like it was a nest of snakes about to strike.

Ray walked over and put his hands on Kowalski's shirt. Kowalski, in his typical fashion, batted at Vecchio's hands with a petulant scowl, but Ray just pulled him close and kissed him soundly. "You're such a moron, Stanley," he said, but it was entirely affectionate. "You could have just said you wanted to play Monopoly and saved the theatrics. You think I wanted to play Trivial Pursuit with Benton Fraser? C'mon. That was a nice performance, though."

Kowalski grinned at him. "Most of it was true," he said, hands resting on Ray's waist, fingers warm.

"I know. I wasn't kidding about the maps, Kowalski."

Kowalski pretended to sock him in the gut, and then Fraser came back out with the game, and they all three adjourned to the table in the kitchen. First they had to clean it off, because they were guys and they didn't eat at the table, and most of it was Kowalski's shit anyway, which meant he just picked it up and moved it to the counter. Finally, they were ready, and Fraser opened the box and began setting up the game.

He looked up at them both and smiled. "My best wishes to you both as we embark on this exercise in capitalism," he said, and Kowalski and Ray just stared at him, and Ray wondered if Fraser had a book with those kind of sentences in them, or if it was just because he was Canadian, or if it were just because it was him.

Kowalski said, "I'm gonna kick your asses, losers," which was totally uncalled for, but was at the very least American, so that was okay.

Fraser insisted on being the banker, which meant Ray nearly fell asleep while Fraser counted all the money out before handing it over in the required amounts, in case they were missing some of the improbably colored money. "If some amount were lost, we'll have to recalibrate using a few simple statistics. I want to make sure we're prepared."

"What, like there's someone running around stealing Monopoly money?" Kowalski asked. "Where the hell can you go that'll take pink and blue cash?"

Ray had looked at him and said, all innocently, "Candyland?" and Fraser waited patiently while they both cracked up, then went right back to counting out the money.

Ray was thinking maybe a nap sounded better than Monopoly and Kowalski had lost his his focus entirely, getting up and pacing and going into the kitchen, coming back with a handful of leftover Halloween candy that Ray didn't even know they still had, considering it was January, when Fraser passed out the cash to each of them and they were ready to go.

"I think I should get to be the Racecar, because my car is so much better than yours," Kowalski said, sliding his hand across the table and plucking two pieces out of the box. "Here, I found one for you, Vecchio." Kowalski smirked. "This is kinda like the Riv, compared to my GTO." With a flourish, Kowalski handed him the Shoe token. "Because your car is so slow next to mine, you might as well walk."

"I prefer to think it's symbolic of how I'm going to put my foot in your ass when we're done with this," Vecchio said sweetly, and Kowalski started laughing and Ray hit him upside the head, and Fraser looked at them both sternly.

"My father had a very good entry in his diary, about the importance of respect when engaged in a game of chance." He paused, settling the cards in the middle and picking up the dice. "If you two don't play nice, I'll read it it you."

Ray laughed. "Touché, Benny. You can go first for that."

"Here," Kowalski said, handing Fraser the top hat. "I figured you'd want this one."

"I am quite sure it doesn't matter which piece I am, as that can't possibly affect the outcome of play, but thank you, Ray." Fraser smiled and turned his attention to the board.

Fraser considered each potential purchase of property with thorough deliberation, as if his actions affected hundreds or thousands of people. "One has to consider the residents, of course, and if they will be able to afford the housing fees given the rather exorbitant pricing around the St. James district," for example. Or, wondering if it would be impolite to actually own all four railroads regardless of that being the point of the game, because "Competition is vital for any thriving economy, Ray. Besides, I wouldn't want a monopoly in what appears to be the only method of reliable public transportation to result in less than ideal working conditions for my employees, or astronomical ticket prices."

Fraser also insisted on telling them bits of trivia about the game, how it was invented by a Quaker woman in the early twentieth century as an exercise about Henry George's single tax theory, and about how all the properties in the modern edition were actually named after locations in Atlantic City, New Jersey.

'oeSo New Jersey gave us Monopoly and Bruce Springsteen, huh? Not bad,' Ray said, whistling.

"Yeah, but Springsteen's kind of a pussy now," Kowalski said, advancing his token around the board. His method of play was completely sporadic--he'd buy one of one property, but not the second one he landed on even if they happened to be the same color. It didn't make any sense. Ray was pretty sure Kowalski had some kind of strategy, but whatever it was remained a mystery. His money was, predictably, strewn messily about and mixed up in an array of colorful paper. Fraser kept looking at it and sighing.

Ray kept his money hidden beneath the board. Once a mob boss...

"Nah, it sounds like that at first, sometimes, but--he really gets it, boils it down and makes it sound real, and it's better than half the shit they play on the radio." Ray rolled for his turn and landed on the Income Tax square. Fuck. He counted out the money and put it in the center of the board. "Sure, it's not Tunnel of Love, that was his best work. Totally under-appreciated. But it's...you know. I can relate to it, I guess. I like it."

Kowalski was actually listening to him--he liked music, and Ray's explanation of Springsteen's recent musical offerings might have been awkward, but Kowalski understood. "Maybe, but I still think that it don't get any better than Born to Run. When it's right, it's right," Kowalski said simply. "I just think maybe he forgot it don't have to be so fucking hard all the time, y'know?" He smiled at Ray and ducked his head, his expression startlingly unguarded, and Ray remembered why it was he'd fallen for Kowalski in the first place, that it wasn't just the GTO and the really talented things Kowalski could do with his mouth.

"Yeah," Ray said, and smiled back. "I know."

Fraser was looking at them both, pleased, and suddenly it was a nice afternoon, doing something as lame as playing a board game, and maybe this had been a good idea after all.

An hour later, however, Ray was not smiling; not at Kowalski, not at Fraser, and not at the goddamn fucking Monopoly game, either. Kowalski's "strategy" finally became apparent, which was "buy only one of every property you land on, so you can be a dick about it later when people want to buy it from you." He actually tried to demand twelve hundred dollars--most of Ray's cash--and a blow job for Atlantic Avenue.

"So your game strategy is be a fucking douchebag?" Ray asked, staring at Kowalski across the table, drumming his fingers in annoyance. Thanks to Kowalski's brilliant "plan", only Fraser had any monopolies--Baltic and Boardwalk, the least-and-most expensive pieces of property--and Kowalski owned random properties everywhere else, including the only other yellow that Ray really, really needed to start setting up houses and hotels and make some money back.

Kowalski ate a handful of M&Ms and shrugged, looking unconcerned. "No, I gave you the terms of my deal, Vecchio. Not my problem you won't take me up on it."

"You can't ask for blowjobs for properties," Ray said, rubbing his temples, but he was fighting back a grin. 'oeBesides, you give them for free, you know.'

Kowalski winked at him.

Fraser cleared his throat. "Actually, Ray, the rules do state quite clearly that each player may negotiate as they see fit--"

"With cocksucking?" Ray asked Fraser, who was fumbling with the page of rules, looking over the tiny print as if it that was actually going to be in there, right under the bit about Free Parking and rolling too many doubles.

"Well, no--not--not exactly that, Ray, but it is very clear that players are free to--arrange ah, a trade, for whatever the holder of the deed finds most desirable from the other player who is interested in the property."

"In other words, Shoe, the Racecar wants you to suck his exhaust pipe," Kowalski said, touching the tip of his tongue to his upper lip, his eyes all hot and heavy lidded. "All the way to Atlantic City." And with that, Kowalski started singing, low and growly like he could ever sound like Springsteen (Kowalski could dance, sure, but carrying a tune was something else ) "Put your make-up on and fix your hair up pretty, and meet me tonight in Atlantic City..."

Ray was ignoring the fact he was as much turned on by that look on Kowalski's face as he was annoyed by the terrible, terrible things coming out of Kowalski's mouth. "I'll fix your face up pretty, Kowalski," he muttered, giving up.

Kowalski was leaning back in his chair in his usual sprawl, chewing on what remained of his lollipop, grinning at him. Kowalski sucking on things when he really wanted a smoke was almost indecent and very, very distracting. You were distracted by his tongue and knowing exactly what else he could do with it, and then the son-of-a-bitch stole things, like pens or french fries or the remote or the last beer out of the fridge. Ray made himself look back down at his money and the property cards, just to make sure Kowalski wasn't trying anything.

Even though Fraser had a hotel on Park Place, when Kowalski landed on it and would have had to cough up fifteen hundred dollars--which would have bankrupted Kowalski and made him quit the game or finally mortgage Atlantic Fucking Avenue--Fraser waved magnanimously and said, "Don't worry about it, Ray. The denizens of this particular neighborhood are certainly in a high enough tax bracket that they don't need you to support them with your rent money. That would be benefiting the very wealthy at the cost of the impoverished, and that's just not right. Carry on."

"Thanks, Fraser," Kowalski said, and smirked over at Ray. "That's real nice of you."

"Think nothing of it, Ray. I'm sure, if the situation were reversed, you wouldn't ask me to bankrupt myself, either." Fraser smiled beatifically at Kowalski, who just grinned and sucked on his lollipop and didn't answer. Ray wondered if Fraser realized Kowalski totally would bankrupt Fraser if he had the chance, because at least Kowalski realized this was a fucking board game and not actual community planning, for the love of Christ.

Of course, when Ray landed on Baltic Avenue, on which Fraser had a hotel, (Kowalski had called Fraser a "slum lord" for that, which ended in Fraser pausing the game for a ten-minute lecture about economic development and how the residents would not be thrown out of their homes, because he had provided leases, unlike some other landlord he could name), which would cost Ray three-hundred and sixty dollars for landing on it.

Fraser insisted Ray had to pay the full amount of the rent even though he'd just given Kowalski a free pass, because, "These people live in the poorest section of town, Ray, are you really going to deny them a chance to improve infrastructure and education? Don't you know that education and community resources are arguably the only way in which people can improve their station in life, for themselves and whatever descendants they may have?"

Ray handed over the money without a word. He didn't even know what to say to that, and he was pretty sure that anything he tried to say would involve a lot of cussing, or else he'd start laughing. Possibly both.

When Kowalski landed on Boardwalk twenty minutes later, Ray pointed at Fraser and said, "If you don't make him pay this, you realize this game will go on until the end of time--Fraser, someone has to lose. And it should be Kowalski because he's an asshole who doesn't play fair," he added, because it made him feel better to say it, still miffed as he was over Atlantic Avenue.

"The game's about capitalism, ain't it? That's always who wins," Kowalski said, unperturbed. "The asshole who don't play fair." Ray almost pointed out to Kowalski that was one of his rare moments of brilliance that proved he wasn't an idiot at all, because, well...when you're right, you're right, but Kowalski looked smug enough, so Ray filed it away to mention later.

"But you don't have to worry, kids. You can just say I won all nice and fair and we can wrap this up and go do something else." Kowalski had a look on his face that suggested he had some very good ideas about what something else could be.

"Stanley, you did not win," Ray said, waving towards Kowalski's meager pile of deeds and money. "You have one railroad, sixteen dollars, and seven mortgaged properties. How's that winning?"

Kowalski grinned. "Because I'm the Racecar. And because Fraser likes me better because I didn't have to pay any rent on Park Place or Boardwalk--"

"Now, Ray, I told you exactly what the reasons behind my leniency were in that particular matter, and I assure you, my affection towards you or Ray has nothing to do with economic justice--"

Kowalski continued on, as if Fraser hadn't spoken. "--And you landed on Baltic Avenue four times in a row and now Fraser thinks you hate poor people because you didn't want to help build schools or whatever by paying the rent, aaaand--" here Kowalski picked up his last, final piece of un-mortgaged property, the only thing he had besides his sixteen dollars that wasn't in hock. "I have this." He wagged the card in Ray's face. It was Atlantic Avenue, because Kowalski was just that much of a dick.

Ray tried his best not to laugh, but it didn't work. Kowalski was wearing his glasses and his hair was crazy, and Fraser still had all his money in neat, careful piles with his cards perfectly aligned and in order, and was trying to surreptitiously straighten Kowalski's mess while Kowalski wasn't looking. Ray could hear a half-wolf snoring in the corner while he, Ray Vecchio, was playing Monopoly during a snowstorm with his two boyfriends, both of whom he kind of wanted to punch in the face. Christ, his life was weird. "You two are fucked up. C'mon, let's put this game away. Whatever Kowalski's thinking in that dirty mind of his is probably more fun than your theory of socially responsible economics, Fraser, no offense."

"None taken, Ray," Fraser said, grinning, and started cleaning up the table. He only made one comment under his breath about how if some people would just keep their things organized during the game, clean-up would be a lot easier. Then Ray was distracted because Kowalski started kissing him, his hands everywhere at once, all pent-up energy and grabbing hands, and Fraser moved around behind him, his hands warm on Ray's shoulders and his mouth on Ray's neck, and...

The things Kowalski had in mind were definitely better than Monopoly.

When they were finished, when Fraser was lying on his back with his eyes half-closed and his hands behind his head, Kowalski, who was on Ray's other side, leaned over to get something off of the bedside table. Ray took a moment to appreciate the long, lean lines of Kowalski's body as Kowalski shifted on the bed. That made him feel kind of like a chick, but whatever, he was too fucked out to care.

"Here," Kowalski said, turning over. He slapped his hand down on Ray's chest, and when he pulled it way, the card for Atlantic Avenue was lying there, face up. "You earned it, buddy."

"Stanley, that was your mouth on my cock, remember? See, this is why you suck with maps, you don't even know which way is up and which way is down."

"What can I say, Vecchio. I'm a generous guy." Kowalski stretched, which looked indecent but also hot, so Ray stopped arguing and just shook his head. Kowalski yawned and flung one arm up over his eyes, nearly hitting Ray in the face. He slept in the strangest positions, none of which looked comfortable. "M'tired. I'm gonna have a nap. Wake me up when the fucking snow melts."

A nap actually sounded like a pretty good idea, but when Ray moved over to look at Fraser, he was surprised to see Fraser climbing out of bed. He raised a brow, because Fraser had looked very sleepy a moment ago--in fact, he pretty much always fell asleep after sex unless he had somewhere to be. Which, given the blizzard, they didn't. "What's up, Benny?"

Fraser cleared his throat, then leaned down to take the card away from where it was lying, forgotten, on Ray's chest. "Ah, yes. I just--you know, this should be put away," he said, very seriously. "If we want to play again, we won't be able to find it unless it's stored properly with the others."

Kowalski snorted next to him. "I don't think we're ever going to get Vecchio to play Monopoly with us again, Fraser," he said sleepily.

"I don't know about that," Fraser said, amused. "You do offer good incentives.' Kowalski grinned in response but didn't open his eyes.

When Fraser left, Ray lay back down and looked at Kowalski, who cracked an eye open and said, "You can be the Racecar next time," and Ray said, "I don't think that's what Fraser meant by incentives," and Kowalski just laughed and closed his eyes again.