The whole peanut gallery lifted their glasses and chanted, "Speech! Speech! Speech!" Even Welsh took up the demand, damn him. The natives were smashed.

I'd been nursin' my one Guinness all night. Since Ben would be leavin' sober, so would I. Well, I'd be mostly sober. "I never would've taken that operation down if I knew I had to make a speech about it," I answered, but I couldn't turn off my grin.

"Speech!"

"Ya can all go--"

"Ray," Ben said quietly, smiling. It stopped me like nothing else would've.

I looked at my Mountie. He sat there kinda twinklin' at me as he raised his club soda for another sip. Diefenbaker sat at his side and gave me a doggy grin. We'd never take him anywhere Dief wasn't welcome.

I grinned, then almost choked as Ben licked his bottom lip. Torturing me in public... "--all go stick it up yer noses. What I meant to say from the beginnin'."

"Of course, Ray."

"Speech!"

"No!"

"Aw!"

"People, it is 3 a.m. My speech-givin' skills are not at their best."

That seemed to wake them up a little, and everybody finally started makin' noises about gettin' home. Thank God. It was rude leavin' the party early if it was kinda in yer honor.

I had the bartender call cabs for everyone. Ben was usually automatic designated driver just 'cause he never drank. He didn't seem to mind, but I hated seein' people take him fer granted like that. I mean, they could *ask* and not just assume, right?

Besides, I wanted to walk home with him.

Everybody split up at the door, most of 'em congratulatin' me before they left. I told 'em it was nothin', a team effort all the way, and I was right, but I also couldn't help puffin' up a little more at all the compliments. It looked like Huey and Dewey were goin' home together again; it sure made thing easier fer Ben and me bein' together while those two were around.

It was a cold night, but I felt warm. Ben's hand in mine helped. I almost thought I could see the stars, the air was so damned clear and crisp. Diefenbaker rubbed against my leg and barked joyously before trotting off to walk ahead of us.

I couldn't stop smilin'. Ben smiled back and pulled me in closer, with his hand settlin' on my hip and arm draped across my back. "You were splendid today, Ray."

"You helped; everybody did. And are ya sayin' I'm not always splendid?"

"More splendid today."

"That's more like it."

After weeks of work, we'd taken the whole Petrenko drug operation down today. All of it in a clean bust. They might find some way to wiggle out a bit once the lawyers got involved, but I didn't think they'd get too far. And a lot of the credit went to me. The research, the footwork, most of it was mine. Then we arrested the bastards without that much trouble. Me and Ben were a good team, but I got tired sometimes of bein' the one who threw himself at the bad guys as a distraction while he figures out what he'd have to do to save the day.

Ben started off tonight's celebratin' drunk with a toast to Justice. Cornball, but ya had to love the guy.

I did.

The last month had me floatin' on air. We played it cool at the precinct and the Consulate, though I still touched him as much as I ever did, which is one of the great advantages of bein' the type who has to stroke everything. I think everyone pretty much knows anyway, but I've never been the big, mushy public display type, and Ben's not either.

Who'da known that you could spend so much time with a guy and *still* have more stuff to find out about him? I mean, aside from the lover stuff, ya know. Fer instance, Ben has a *rude* sense of humor in private. Watching that mouth snow wouldn't melt in talk like that was almost as big a kick as watchin' that mouth take in-- Later on that.

But he got hot listenin' to me use big, five-dollar words. I swear I almost made him come once just from sayin' some Latin law terms at him. Just as he proved that he wasn't as innocent as he pretended, he forced me to stop actin' dumb around him. He knows that my brain and my tongue don't always have a love connection. He always knows what I mean even when the right word's shoved somewhere down my throat.

Look at me gettin' choked up. And I called *him* a cornball.

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray!"

"Yeah, Ben?" I always answered on the last, slightly exasperated "Ray" because I loved to hear him do that fast, machine gun thing. Ya know: same tone, same tone, same tone, same tone, same tone, same tone, HEY!

I'm sure he knows I do that.

"It's a beautiful night."

Just in case I didn't appreciate the wonders of nature, even if they'd been reshaped into the city of Chicago. I couldn't disagree. I was about to end one great day of putting scum behind bars and celebratin' with friends by goin' home with the love of my life. With both of us sober, so whiskey dick wouldn't be a problem.

I smiled and leaned against his shoulder. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

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

More Viridian5 stories can be found in The Green Room at http://members.tripod.com/~drovar/viridian/

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