Ray wondered how he'd gotten here--which was dancing with Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, one of the last people in the world he'd figure would suggest dancing and with another guy--but let it slide. If Frase felt bad for him over the whole thing with Stella, that was just fine for leading here. Whys and hows could wait a bit until the sheer pleasure he felt now faded or wore out its welcome. The former would happen first, he knew, so he wanted to hold on as long as he could. All night would be nice; a few days would be better.

It felt good to move, to have a direction, to have a surprisingly hot //He's prince of ice and snow, untouched by mortal concerns, ain't he?// hand clasped in his own as he reeled Frase out and back in, to have the Mountie following *his* lead with no protests. Moving, breathing, let you know you were alive. The dance cleared his mind and wiped away the dragging heaviness of fatigue, while the music vibrated through his body. He only occasionally let his hand stroke the red serge at the small of that oh so straight back.

Fraser had started out stiff and uncertain but finally loosened up a little, letting the natural grace he showed in chasing down suspects come out in his movements now. He would never be mistaken for Swivel-hips Kowalski, but he did well. Spooky how he kept anticipating the next move, but that was okay too. He had a dreamy, inward look in his blue, blue eyes now, but he could just be listening to something happening four blocks away or something.

Ray almost snorted at the sudden thought of trying to dip Fraser. If the Mountie didn't save them first, they'd end up on the floor for sure. With Ray on top, straddling that large body, like mountain climbing but with--

Enough. Way too far. Just because dancing with Stella again had almost led to sex didn't mean that Frase had any such intentions. Maybe men danced together every day for no reason with the Inuits. And he wasn't going to think about Stella again, still. She always said he could never let go of the past, and she had very definitely said she was his past. No present, no future, not ever again. She could dance and fall into bed with him, but she didn't want him enough to see him in the morning. Not anymore.

And he was doing a great job not thinking about Stella, wasn't he? Against all expectations, he had a Mountie in his arms, right here, right now, and he would let himself enjoy it. Even if it seemed so unreal.

Hell, his new life seemed unreal. He remembered when he finally found out just what he'd signed on for, way after it had been too late to back out. Lieutenant Welsh was like, Oh yeah, as Vecchio, your partner is a Mountie. That whole sentence had been so wrong that Ray had been forced to attack it in pieces. "Vecchio"? He got to see a picture of a guy he didn't look anything like. Guess that made him Ray Vecchio of the northern Italian Vecchios. No, further north. No, further. No...

Then, pitch two: Mountie? Like Dudley Do Right? Yeah, exactly. The picture showed a hunky but bland looking guy in bright red. Ray had a sudden odd flash from grade school history that mentioned how the American guerilla fighters during the Revolutionary War used to just pick off the British due to the bright red coats of the uniforms. With the coat, Constable Fraser might as well have had a bulls-eye painted on him.

Oh, and the Mountie has a wolf. Well, actually it was a half-wolf, as if that made it better. And it was deaf, but it could read lips in, like, five different languages supposedly.

Once Welsh convinced him that it all wasn't a game of "haze the new guy," Ray knew damned well why nobody had bothered to tell him word one before he signed on. They couldn't have known that his own life was such a mess that he would have jumped on to anything just to get away from it. They should have figured that out just from his eagerness to get into something they wouldn't tell him anything about.

A little colorful bizarreness would go down smooth in comparison. Ray could handle his inheritance of Mountie, deaf half-wolf, giant family, Riviera, and bizarre case file just fine.

When Ray studied the files on Vecchio and Fraser, he immediately saw a bond between them that made him deeply jealous. People didn't risk so much for other people, they just didn't. But these two would go to the ends of the earth, or to the wilds of Canada fresh out of a hospital bed in one case, to help one another. Ray didn't know anyone who'd cross the street to save *his* skinny neck, not even Stella now. Maybe she never would have.

Ray wanted that bond, or something like it, so desperately he thought it might kill him. Useless. He would never get it. He was just a cheap stand-in for the man it belonged to. He always would be. He would just see if he could get a shadow of that, and he would be content.

None of it prepared him to actually meet Fraser the first time. That day he came walking up fast and hugged the Mountie just to stop thinking what he was thinking. The picture hadn't captured the man at all. Ray's instincts instantly shouted, Trust him! What else those instincts shouted were things Ray would never share with Fraser, though it might be worth it for the inevitable blush and stammer.

Goodness *poured* off Fraser, so obviously that it colored his native good looks--which would have verged on prettiness if he hadn't been so masculine and just fucking *huge*--and made them magnetic. He seemed so damned pure that Ray's hug might... dirty him, and Ray had been forced to do an immediate mental "down, boy!" at that thought.

Ray had been paired with a man who was some combination of Superman and Snow White.

Worse, Fraser seemed confused as all hell and had the look of someone who'd been full of happy anticipation and was only just starting to see that he was about to be shafted, like Santa had skipped his house after all. Even worse than that, it told Ray that no one had taken the Mountie aside and told him what was going on like they were supposed to have. He was looking for best friend Vecchio but gets this Mirror Universe guy instead, and he wants his friend back right *now*.

And Ray couldn't say anything about what had happened, because he was under orders, stupid orders, not to. It wasn't his place; the brass was supposed to do it. And he definitely wasn't supposed to say a word in public.

Screwed again, Kowalski, but screwed worse, Constable Fraser.

Under different circumstances, it would have been hilarious, like a practical joke, with the whole precinct treating him like Vecchio when he so obviously wasn't and everyone in on it but Fraser, with Fraser getting as upset as a Mountie could allow himself to. But buried deep under the look that said, You are *not* Ray Vecchio, was another that asked, Am I going crazy?

Ray knew he'd had the same look when Stella had told him it was over, like he wasn't sure if it was reality or his own mind that had flip-flopped into insanity, because what was going on was just so *wrong*.

So he'd tolerated the nose measurement, the sneaky fingerprinting, and the window putty sandwich, because Fraser was hurt and good and deserved better. Deserved the truth; deserved his real partner.

When all that had flashed through Ray's mind, he knew for certain that he'd been hooked. Actually, he'd been hooked from the first moment he saw the Mountie wander into the precinct, but it had only grown deeper and deeper as time went on. The loyalty, that purity that verged on innocence, that goodness //better than you deserve, you punk//, the concern for him and his well being had hit Ray hard.

But Ray wanted to crack the reserve the Mountie wore like armor. Show him it was safe, at least here. //With me. I understand.// Ray also wanted to do a number of other things that Fraser probably wouldn't go for. The man was... what was the word? Oh yeah. Asexual. Beautiful women and a few men flung themselves at him, and he never noticed. What were the odds of him making an exception for one scrawny partner who wasn't the man he wanted at his side anyway?

Not even worth thinking about.

Dancing with the man was a sweet torment, as close as Ray would ever get to him physically. Fraser wasn't really the touching type, which explained the looks Ray got from him for feeling the need to touch everything. It was part of being "blind," as the Mountie put it, but it calmed him too. It made things real if they had a known physical presence: texture, weight, edges, dimensions. Seeming to sense a little of how it was for Ray, Fraser let himself be touched, but he didn't do it himself often and then rarely for a long touch. Leaning close now and then and patting Ray's thigh while checking for bombs didn't count. This dance was a different thing and precious for it.

They were flying across the Consulate's floor, and Ray was surprised by how well Fraser kept up with the speed and footwork. Thank God for a fast song. A slow dance would have been awkward, and this gave him touch plus exercise, the pleasure of pushing himself a bit. The fast pumping of muscle and air anchored him. Forward and back, side to side, with Fraser linked to him by heated flesh and warm serge. The hand that sometimes slid on his back made his mind flutter. Eyes half-closed, he could feel himself grinning as the dance worked its usual magic, taking him away from his problems and the past into a hot now, like really good sex. Sometimes it was better than sex, because you could make it go on and on. He wanted to kiss Fraser...

And opened his eyes to see Fraser staring at him. More precisely, staring at his neck like the Mountie intended to rip it out with his teeth. He'd never seen Fraser look like that before, reserve cast aside to reveal... rage? //Oh, God, what did I do that was bad enough to upset *him*?//

The dance's spell shattered, Ray stopped moving completely, heartsick. He cursed himself when it jerked Fraser off balance.

Fraser looked like Fraser again, with the mild expression of confusion he sometimes showed. "Ray, what--"

A million despairing questions floated to the top of Ray's head, but the one that squeezed through the lump in his throat was, "Why are ya doin' that, Frase?" //Oh good, Ray. He'll know exactly what you mean from that.//

"Doing what?"

"Starin' at me like that."

Fraser hesitated then, to Ray's complete surprise, had this sudden look of relief on his face. "I wanted to get closer to you. You're... beautiful to me, Ray."

Chaos. It was total chaos in Ray's head as thoughts flipped and scattered like a dropped deck of cards. Thoughts, emotions, and instincts fought one another in fast forward. But above it all, Ray knew the Mountie was lying. Maybe not lying exactly, but not telling the truth. Fraser could do that if he thought the truth might hurt someone too badly.

It had to be a pity thing. Had to be. Fraser saw him hurting over Stella and wanted to be kind. Some dark part of Ray's soul asked how that could be so wrong and if they could push the Mountie to see how far his kindness would go. Maybe it would go all the way?

Ray bitchslapped that voice. He would never take advantage of Fraser that way, never.

Ray thought he might be saying something to Fraser but wasn't sure; his tongue didn't seem to be attached to the rest of him. The only thing he did know for sure was that he had to get the hell out of here, away from deep blue eyes that stripped his skin off and left him a jangling mess of raw nerves. He felt naked, completely exposed. He needed time to think. Fraser meant well--he always did--but he couldn't possibly realize what he'd done.

But as Ray tensed to run, Fraser's hand closed tighter on his wrist, anticipating his next move the same as when they'd been dancing. He tried to wrench away in panic, but Fraser didn't budge. He'd have better luck pushing a mountain. He had to get away! He turned to attack--not to hurt his partner, just to get himself loose-- but this action had been anticipated too. Fraser grabbed his other wrist. It hurt a bit, especially where strong fingers pressed his bracelet hard into the skin and delicate bones of his wrist. Trapped, cranking himself up into a frenzy, Ray rocked and pulled, confused and barely coherent. //What is he gonna do? Why is he doin' this? Lemme go!//

"Ray. Ray," Ben said in a calming tone. "Ray, I'm sorry. I'll let you go if you--"

Ray stilled. //This is Fraser, idiot. He wouldn't hurt you. Not on purpose. At least not that way.// Wasn't letting go either, though. //What are you doing to me? Can't you see how--// Breathing hard, Ray asked softly, "Why d'ya have to say that shit, Frase?"

"I meant it."

"You couldn't've-- Is this about Stella? Some kind of pity thing?"

"I don't lie," Ben replied, confused.

"Yeah, but yer polite, and polite can be lying. In a way."

Fraser looked horrified. "I'm polite, Ray, but I don't take it that far."

As the adrenaline drained away, Ray felt tired and worn. If he could pretend to be calm, maybe Fraser would let him go home where he could lick his wounds in peace. Alone, as it looked like he would be for the rest of his life.

Ray just started throwing words out in the hopes something would stick and make Frase release him. "I know what I am. I'm not beautiful. You couldn't possibly have any interest in me as-- No."

Fraser's eyes just about lit up. That really was the only way to describe it. Ray watched in helpless fascination, unable to believe the man could glow any more than he usually did. Ray also realized that the Mountie was gently stroking his wrists. The combination of soft touch and slightly callused fingertips against his skin fascinated Ray and started to calm him a bit.

"You are. I do. Let me show you."

Ray knew where this sounded like it was going, but the kiss still shocked the hell out of him. Frase seemed to loom toward him in slow motion until they had contact, mouth to mouth, and it was hot and good and exactly what he needed to live. Too deeply into it to even describe to himself what Fraser tasted like, Ray could only think that it felt like the film reel of his life had started to burn and dissolve, making the image run, until it melted away and left only a pulsing white light. Too tired to think but not to feel, he parted his lips as soon as he felt his partner's tongue begging for entrance. //Inside, inside, and I wanna feel you from the...// He felt their hearts pound together, and he couldn't tell if he was receiving the breath of life or getting it vacuumed out of him. When Fraser let his wrists go to hold him--which was a very good thing, since his knees felt so weak--he brought his arms up to hold Fraser too.

When Fraser finally broke the kiss off, Ray put his head against the shoulder and gasped, "God, you..." That was all he got out before Fraser licked his neck in one long, slow, short-circuiting stroke. //Ahhhhh. Practice makes perfect.// Rough, hot, hard... Ray closed his eyes and hummed in happiness. He opened his eyes again when Fraser started to stroke his hair.

Ray didn't like the faraway look on Fraser's face, wanting the Mountie in the here and now, which was with him. Was his partner regretting it already? It would figure. Fraser said, "Ray, you don't have to--"

If they stopped now, Ray knew Fraser would obsess over it overnight and come to the well-reasoned conclusion that this must never happen again. In the morning he'd be his usual reserved self and tell some Inuit story about why the moose didn't lie down with the caribou that would supposedly explain why they could never touch one another. Stick with your own kind; stay with your own kind...

//I have to make you regret regrettin' it.// Ray stopped the unwanted words with a fevered kiss and said, "I know."

"It would be taking advantage."

"Do you want me? You said you did."

"Yes."

"Then let me take advantage of you, would ya?"

One last try. "Ray, you're tired, you're--"

Ray drove Fraser back against the wall and pinned him there. "This look tired to you?" Ray moved in close. "You really weren't just teasing, were ya?"

"No, I would never tease you about something like that."

"Good."

Ray's hands roamed Fraser's body in hummingbird touches, too impatient and desperate to take things any slower when he might not get another chance. They sent him signals of warm, soft, hard, starched, hot, smooth, leather... Ray smelled soap, starch, and the sharp tang of an iron but also leather, wind, and a spiciness he connected with Diefenbaker. It underlined the way Fraser was part civilized, part wild, just like his half-wolf companion, his... damn, what was the... oh yeah, familiar.

Looked like Fraser was letting his wild side out to play, as he made low, almost growling, sounds deep in his throat, and his surprisingly sharp teeth nipped at Ray's neck. They would leave marks, but Ray couldn't care. As strong hands pulled his T-shirt out of his jeans and traced his spine, he knew this man could easily break him in half. That didn't matter either. He trusted Fraser, and that almost made him feel as drunk as knowing that Fraser wanted him.

As Fraser untucked and rumpled Ray, it seemed only fair to return the favor. Ray tried to figure out how to undo that odd string thing--What was it called? A land lawn? Couldn't be--around the Mountie's neck. The uniform had so damned many straps and buckles and buttons and snaps, with all of them connected to one another, that it would be damned near impossible to remove with any speed. Were Mounties professional fetishists, or what?

Ray stopped when Fraser stiffened. The first thought that went through his mind was that maybe the Queen had some kind of strange decree about Mounties having to remove their own uniforms or something--who knew with Brits and Canadians?--but the guilt and frustration on Fraser's face said something different. "Ray. Ray, we can't. We can't. Not..."

That had to be a new speed record. //I should have expected as much. Stupid, stupid me. You were dreamin', Ray.// Ray stepped back and out from under Fraser's motionless arms. "Sher, I understand." He knew that he was hugging himself in a really pathetic and obvious way but couldn't help himself. It hurt too much. It brought to mind standing outside Stella's closed door with her scent on his skin and taste on his lips, the return to Eden she'd dangled in front of him lost. Now he was marked by Fraser too, and it would end in exactly the same way, with hope and arousal turned dead and bitter. Only the stupid, hopeless, unrequited love remained.

"I'll let myself out. See ya in the mornin', right?" Even Ray's voice, gone thick and low, gave him away, left him without any dignity.

But Fraser pulled him back into a tight embrace that left him swimming in heat and bright red. "No, Ray, don't go. It's not like that at all. We're in the Consulate."

Lost in the warm, shining feeling of Fraser wanting him after all, the last sentence made no sense at first. Ray's thoughts of the Consulate involved dark wood, the scent of polish, safety, Fraser. Right now, it also meant golden light--completely unlike the cheap, hard fluorescent so many places had--holding back the darkness. Then the sentence made too much sense, and Ray groaned. For Fraser, fooling around in the Consulate would be like having sex in a church. No wonder Fraser hadn't spelled it out any further, not when it was self-explanatory to anyone who really knew him.

Fraser blushed. "I didn't set out to--"

Ray grinned. "Seduce me? Hey, I know that if ya did, you'd plan it better."

"Thank you, Ray."

Ray felt so safe and secure. //Wants me, wants me...// He also felt his eyes start to close and fought against it, but three nights without much sleep finally began to take their toll. //Not now, dammit.//

"Let me take you home, Ray." And could Fraser's voice sound any gentler, any fonder? Ray didn't think so.

Home and Fraser sounded really good together. "Yeah, sounds good, but I drive."

"But, Ray, you're exhausted."

"I drive. You can keep me awake, right?"

Fraser's arm at the small of Ray's back half guided, half propelled him, but he could make it to the door and out without it. Sight wasn't his primary sense. But hell if he would complain about that caring touch. The open night air revived him a little, lightened the weight on his eyes.

"See, Frase? Good as new." His yawn ruined the effect though.

"Of course, Ray."

"Damned right."

The heated, weighted presence in the passenger seat, combined with fresh air from the open window, kept Ray alert enough to get them to his apartment in one piece without breaking any traffic laws. Well, any major ones. All the way, Fraser talked about his usual odd subjects, and Ray vaguely made out something about cabbages and sextons, but he was listening more to the sounds than the content anyway. Fraser no doubt knew that and just spoke to help keep Ray awake.

Ray didn't bother turning the light on in his apartment and winced as he heard Fraser bump into something hard. "Switch on the wall near the door, Frase," Ray said, hoping having it on might help wake him up. He had Fraser in his apartment after they'd already been all over one another, and sleeping wasn't what he wanted to do now.

It didn't help. Damn it.

Ray stood in one place staring vaguely into space until Fraser guided him to the bedroom. It kind of bothered Ray that his landlady had let Fraser in while he was out at the crypt that day. People shouldn't ever see your apartment for the first time while you weren't around to lead them. It just wasn't right. They could see anything and draw their own, wrong, conclusions without you around. The only thing that disturbed him more was finding out from Fraser that his landlady listened to him dance. And found it mesmerizing. That was shudder-worthy for sure.

Ray felt even sleepier now; that association thing of bedroom equaling sleep finally working the way it hadn't for the last three nights. Left to himself, he would have flopped onto the bed and passed out, but Fraser sat him down on it and supported him. Fraser knelt on the floor and took off Ray's boots and ankle holster. As Ray leaned over that dark head, he couldn't help smiling at some of the filthier thoughts that flashed through his dazed mind. //While yer down there and on yer knees, would ya-- No, I think that one's impossible. Ooooh, that one isn't, though. It's a bitch bein' this tired.// Fraser took off his black leather coat, then started to unbuckle his shoulder harness with efficient but still caressing touches.

"Mmmm. It's sweet of ya to strip me. Don' stop." It all felt so good, Ray thought it was a damned shame a person couldn't sleep and have sex at the same time. They were two great tastes, so why couldn't they taste great together? "Ya sher ya don't wanna take advantage of me? I'd make it worth yer while." He flashed his most charming smile at his partner. Fraser probably wouldn't see it in the dark, but effort counted.

Ray could feel Fraser's answering smile. "Another time." Fraser gently pushed him, still mostly dressed, onto the bed and settled his head on the pillow.

//Another time. There's gonna be a--// Ray's grin would devour his face, and then where would he be? Besides utterly happy, that was. "No stories about the moose and the caribou tomorrow, right?" Ray mumbled.

"If you insist, Ray."

Then it got even better as Fraser nestled next to him, breathing lightly on the back of his neck. Ray realized that he wasn't getting any tonight, but that was okay because Fraser had promised another time. "Another time" was more precious than sex, more precious than anything, and Fraser wouldn't lie.

Besides, "another time" meant sex later; maybe lots of sex later. Ray smirked and curled up closer to his partner. "Ya sher *you* don' wanna strip, buddy? All those straps and buckles and buttons and snaps can't be comfy."

"I'm fine and exactly where I want to be."

Ray felt Fraser's heart start to slow down to keep time with his own. "Yeah. Me too." Finally.

**********************THE END***********************

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