This story is slash, containing characters who (sadly) do not belong to me and both happen to be men who want to have sex with each other. I'm not writing this for any gain other than my own personal amusement. This story is rated NC-17-RK for sex involving Ray #2.

What follows is the second installment in the "One Ray, Two Ray, Old Ray, New Ray" (with all due deference to Dr. Suess) which will have something in it to please or offend everyone, including Fraser/Kowalski pairings, Fraser/Vecchio, and even Vecchio/Kowalski. You have been warned.

This story begins right after the ending of the third season episode "Spy vs. Spy," and is a sequel to "Not the Real Ray."

any comments, suggestions, or complaints can be sent to me at magik@socketis.net

"No Ship Like Partnership" by Barbara J. Webb

"Hell of a day, huh Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray. Yes it was."

Ray Kowalski couldn't help giving the rear tire of his car a frustrated kick. "I can't believe she shot out my window. What kind of person tries to shoot the driver?"

Fraser looked up from where he was kneeling on the ground, scratching Dief. "You'll want to be sure to collect all the glass that's in the car. Even safety glass, when shattered by gunfire, can develop sharp-"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be sure an' do that." Ray gave the seat a couple quick swipes with his hand. "You coming?"

The ride back to the precinct fell into one of the strained silences that had been cropping up more and more often of late. Ever since -

"I'm scheduled to look at another apartment tonight."

The comment was simple, direct, to the point - completely lacking the usual verbosity of the Mountie's conversation. Lately, especially in these moments alone, he had become like this: terse in his speech, as if he were afraid of saying too much.

"So you want me along?"

"Only if it's convenient for you, Ray."

"No problem." It had been days since the night they had slept together, and for all they'd spoken of it, it might as well have never happened. Fraser had been gone when Ray had woken up the next morning, and while Ray had meant to say something about it that day, he'd gotten busy with a case and the right moment had never come up. From then, it just got more and more difficult, until Ray felt really weird about bringing it up. At work, it looked to the outside world as though nothing had changed between them. With a case in hand, or some other scheduled activity, they still interacted as well as they ever had. There was, perhaps, a touch of tension behind the words, but nothing that couldn't easily be attributed to a lack of sleep or bad coffee.

No, it was moments like these where the mood changed - when they were completely alone together with nothing that needed to be discussed. By an unspoken agreement, their habits hadn't changed; Ray still drove Fraser where he needed to be, was still helping him in the never-ending apartment search, still had dinner with him. To stop doing those things would have been an admission of guilt, a silent declaration that something had actually happened between them.

But the feel of it all was different. The time was either spent in protracted silences, broken only by the occasional short comment of Fraser's and equally curt reply from Ray, or the fell into a high-energy, constant chatter, as though afraid of what they other might say if they stopped speaking even for a moment.

Personally, Ray was terrified of what Fraser would say when the discussion of the other night finally happened. He was so afraid Fraser would pronounce it all a mistake, a moment of weakness. He might even reiterate the fact that he was in love with Vecchio and explain that while Stan was his friend, he would never be -

"If I might recommend returning to our lane of traffic...."

The tires screeched as Ray jerked the wheel over. He needed to pay more attention to the road and spend less time obsessing over his partner.

And then Fraser said the words Ray had been fearing for days. "Ray, I think we need to talk."

Caught off guard by it, Ray panicked. "I don't think now is a good time, Fraser. We've got reports to fill out on this Russian thing, and then that apartment to look at - we're gonna be awfully busy as it is."

"As you, yourself stressed not twenty minutes ago, partners means sharing, Ray. How can we do that if we don't talk?"

Ray shrugged. "I don't know. Why don't you think about that, and let me know what you come up with."

Fraser shook his head. "I don't think you understand-"

"No, you don't understand, Fraser. Look, I realize this situation isn't ideal for you, that you'd rather be with Vecchio-" Ray broke off abruptly, but not soon enough. Fraser had heard.

"Back to this."

"We never left it." Fraser had to fight for balance as Ray swung into the 27^th precinct parking lot at a completely unsafe speed. Storming out of the car, Ray caused a few more shards of the shattered window to fall as he slammed the door shut. He didn't even look back to see if Fraser was following.

As ever, once he'd cooled down a bit, Ray regretted having yelled at Fraser. It was Ray's problem, and he didn't need to be taking it out on the Mountie who was, after all, his friend. Even if Ray wanted more, he had no right to be mad at Fraser for being unable to give it.

Dropping his pen, Ray went over to the table Fraser was using to fill out his observation log. "Hey, look, Fraser, I'm sorry I snapped at you."

Fraser looked up at Ray, that beautiful soft smile flitting briefly across his lips. "That's all right. Actually, there's a very funny story this all reminds me of. You see, there was a man-"

"Fraser! Don't make me have to yell at you again."

"Of course. I merely thought-"

"Yeah, well, don't." Stan caught himself fidgeting with the strap of his shoulder holster, realized just how jumpy standing this close to Fraser was making him feel. "Look, I'm almost done, then we can go grab a bite then look at this place of yours."

Fraser's eyes flickered to Ray's hand; he had apparently also noticed Ray's fidgeting. "Oh, the apartment isn't mine yet, Ray. That outcome is what this interview is meant to determine."

"I know that." Ray rolled his eyes. "Okay, then. Still friends, right?"

It was meant to be a casual comment, just tossed into the air, but there was a pleading note in Ray's voice that he was sure Fraser could hear as clearly as he could. "Of course we are, Ray." Fraser's tone was somehow intimate, sincere, reassuring. The look he gave Ray almost melted the detective, and he had to flee back to his desk before he did something crazy like kiss the Mountie in front of the entire 27^th precinct.

* * * * *

The apartment was in such shabby condition that even Fraser, after taking one look at it, couldn't stand the thought of living there. Disappointed, the two officers dragged out of the building, Dief trotting ahead of them, and back to the rental car Ray had on loan while his was in the shop.

"So where to? Back to the consulate?"

Fraser shook his head in answer to Ray's question. "I still believe the two of us need to talk. About the other night," he amended helpfully.

"Yeah, I figured." Ray leaned down over the steering wheel, hitting his head against his folded arms. "Why do we gotta talk?"

Hesitantly, Fraser reached out and lay a hand on Ray's arm. "Please, Ray."

The desperate, pleading note in Fraser's voice seemed to affect Ray; even his shoulders relaxed. "Okay, Fraser. You wanna go back to my place?" Ray's head snapped up, his eyes widening. "I'm sorry, that came out -- I mean, unless you wanna go someplace else - cause we could go anywhere."

"Your apartment would be fine."

Fraser withdrew his hand, and they drove in silence to Ray's apartment. Fraser wished he could tell what was going on inside Ray's head. He couldn't remember the last time Ray had gone this long without speaking, without breaking into one of his oh-so-endearing, rambling non-sequiturs. More than anything else, he just wanted to reach out and touch Ray's face, his shoulder, his chest, to offer comfort for the storm that he knew was raging inside Ray's head, but he was certain that Ray wouldn't react well to such an intimate gesture.

The climb to Ray's apartment was similarly quiet. Ray was starting to fidget - a bad sign for this being a constructive conversation. Before they spoke, Fraser would have to get him to relax - and Fraser had no idea how he was going to manage that.

"You want something to drink?" Ray tossed his keys on the counter as he went to the refrigerator, snagging a beer.

"I'm fine, but thank you."

"Yeah, no problem." Ray pulled a chair around facing the couch where Fraser had taken a seat. "So. How 'bout those Russians?"

The last thing Fraser wanted now was to be drawn into a case discussion. "I didn't come here to talk about the Russians. I thought we might...." This was more difficult than Fraser had thought it would be: he had never been comfortable discussing his feelings with anyone. But he'd already lost one partner because he hadn't been able to tell him how he felt, and he wasn't going to let his friendship with Stan be destroyed for the same reason. "I thought we might talk about the other night."

"Why? Why do we gotta? Okay, so we both know what happened, and it did, and now it's over, and why do we gotta bring it up?"

"Why are you afraid, Ray?" Leaning forward, Fraser tried to keep his voice low, his face open and unthreatening. "Is it because you are afraid of our friendship being hurt, or because you don't want to be compared with Detective Vecchio?"

"Look Fraser!" Ray's hands were waving; Fraser had noticed long ago Ray's tendency to get more animated the more on edge he became. "I'm not scared of anything. And I'm not-" his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I'm not straight."

Fraser wasn't sure he'd heard Ray correctly. "What?"

"You heard me. I lied, okay? I like men - I like to fuck men, or I did, back in high school, but then I stopped - well, okay, except for once - but we're not going to talk about it, in fact, we're not going to talk about any of this. But I'm not afraid, so don't think I am." Ray fell quiet, his face relaxing into the sullen, strong look that meant he was going be stubborn.

This was getting off to a bad start. "You're right, Ray-"

"And stop-"

"Stan. I'm sorry, Stan. You're right, and I understand. Whatever you want to do is fine."

Ray popped the top of his beer can. "What do you want me to say, Fraser?"

A moment's pause as Fraser considered his words. He was struggling between honesty, telling Ray how he really felt, what he really wanted to hear from Ray, or politeness, respecting Ray's wishes to stop talking about it and letting the conversation drop. But Fraser was hurt by Ray's reluctance, and desperate for Ray to touch him again, and on top of everything else, Fraser was afraid, even if Ray wasn't. He was afraid they might never gain back the easy camaraderie, the closeness, the trust that had characterized their relationship almost from the start. He opened his mouth to speak...and then shut it again. No, he couldn't tell Ray what to say. Either he felt it or he didn't, and Fraser couldn't feed him lines.

"Ray - Stan, I can't tell you what to say. I trust you, and know if there were anything it were important I knew, you would tell me. If you don't want to talk, then that's fine."

"Fraser, I can't - I don't, you know, just talk like that. I can't - even if I did have anything to say, which I don't."

"Try, Ray."

Slamming his can down on the coffee table, Ray ricocheted to his feet. "This is stupid, Fraser. I'm not going to -"

Fraser grabbed Ray by the shoulder as he started to stalk off. "Look at me, Ray."

"No."

"Please."

Ray wheeled around, his face inches from Fraser's, his posture belligerent. "Leave me alone, Fraser. I'm not going to let you hurt me!"

The words - the attack - was so unexpected Fraser's hand dropped from Ray's shoulder, and he stood unmoving as Ray jerked away, pounded into his bedroom, and slammed the door behind him.

Dazed, Fraser stumbled over to Ray's door, placing his fingers lightly on the wood and leaning his forehead against it. "Ray," he whispered, his voice unexpectedly hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Ray."

"Go 'way, Fraser."

Dief trotted over to the door, whined and scratched at it. Fraser heard a mumbled "Stupid dog" come from within, and the groan of springs as Ray flopped down onto his bed.

"I'm not leaving." Fraser's voice was calm and steady - utterly devoid of the churning emotions Fraser was actually feeling. There was no immediate reply from the other side of the door. "Did you hear me, Ray? I'm not leaving."

There were more creaking sounds from the other side of the door, then it swung open under Fraser's fingers. "Do I have to shoot you to get you out of my-"

That was as far as he got. Fraser grabbed Ray by the shoulder of his shirt and dragged him close to kiss him. Ray's hands came up to push at Fraser's chest, but he tilted his head into the kiss. The moment stretched on; Ray's tongue struggled against Fraser's, his lips locked against the Mountie's. As the exchange became more desperate, Ray's hands stopped pushing and began to rub up and down Fraser's brown jacket.

"I'm sorry, Ray, you had been saying something," Fraser murmured against Ray's lips.

Immediately, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Ray tensed under his hands, tearing himself away. But he didn't close the door again, merely turned his back to Fraser, leaning his head against the bedroom wall, seeming to hunch in on himself. "Ya know, Fraser, I always figured you for a one true love kinda guy. Doesn't this cheap sex thing kinda bother you?"

Fraser wanted so much to reach out to Ray, to bridge the short distance between them, to take Ray back into his arms and try to sooth away the tension. But the detective seemed a bit more relaxed with some space between himself and Fraser, and the Mountie didn't want to do anything at this point to startle him.

"First of all, Stan, I think the pursuit of mutual happiness between two consenting adults can be a wonderful thing, so long as there is honesty, trust, and respect. Love is a rare and special thing, naturally adding depth and even more meaning to the experience, but I think simple affection can be enough to create a very meaningful, special interchange. And in fact, it was one of your founding American Fathers, Thomas Jefferson, who said that we all have, as one of our inalienable rights, the right to pursue happiness-"

"You're losing focus, Fraser."

"My apologies, Ray." Fraser hurried on to his second point, not wanting to lose Ray's attention now. "What I'd like to say is that in no way do I consider what we did to be cheap sex."

Stan turned, took a step forward, till his face was barely an inch from Fraser's. His green eyes bored into Fraser's with all the intensity that Fraser had come to expect from Ray Kowalski - he had to suppress a smile as his mind flickered back to Ray saying "shake, bad guy, shake" after explaining how on the inside he was really a poet. That duality of nature was one of the things Fraser adored must about the detective. Yes, he was intense, brave, tough, but he was also gentle, caring, and willing to throw himself on a hot poker to spare someone else pain.

"What would you call it then, Fraser?" Ray's breath was warm against Fraser's face as he spoke, sending a shiver running down Fraser's chest. "What would you call it?" Ray repeated; his gaze never left Fraser's.

"You're my partner, Stan." It was that simple. That one word, inadequate for the amount of meaning it contained, but there was no better word to express all they were to each other.

"Your partner, Frase? What does that mean?"

For a moment, Fraser hardly dared breathe. Everything - his life, his future, his friendship - seemed to hinge on the next thing he said. "It means everything, Stanley Raymond Kowalski." He closed the brief space between them, gently settling his lips against Ray's.

Ever so slowly, Ray's hands came up Fraser's sides, moved around his back, until Ray was embracing Fraser tightly. "Dammit, Fraser, why you gotta do this to me?"

"Do which, Ray?" Fraser's hands were resting lightly on Ray's biceps; they were breathing the same air.

Ray gave a deep sigh, and all the tension seemed to leave his body. "Nothing. Never mind. Not important."

"If you say so." Fraser raised his hand, brushing his thumb along the bottom edge of Ray's jaw, enjoying the feel of Ray's rough stubble against his skin. He could read the plea in Ray's eyes - not to hurt him the way everyone else close to Ray had. Fraser knew how painful Ray's loss of Stella still was to him, and suspect there were other hurts, buried deeply, that only careful nurturing would bring to light. Fraser silently vowed never to cause that kind of harm to this beautiful, trusting, oddly vulnerable young man.

"Yeah, I say so." Ray leaned in for another kiss, grinding his groin against Fraser's as he did so. "But can I say one thing here?"

Fraser's brain was already reeling from the feel of Ray's body against his. Before he'd met Detective Kowalski, he would never have believed anyone could have such an effect on him - even Ray Vecchio hadn't been able to set him so completely on fire with just a touch and the sound of his voice. But there was no denying the heat that Ray Kowalski could summon in Fraser, calling it up from some deep source Fraser hadn't even known existed. It took his brain a moment to register Ray's words. "Of course, Ray, anything."

"Okay. Fraser, we're friends - partners, if you want - and we're doing this because sometimes this is what friends do, right?"

"Well-"

"Don't interrupt me."

"But you asked me a question."

"No, I didn't. Well, okay, but it was one of those thingies...."

Fraser took hold of Ray's hands that were suddenly waving in the air as he searched for the words. "Rhetorical, Ray?"

"Yeah, right. You know what rhetorical means?"

"Of course. It's a question that - oh, I see. Understood."

"Geez, Fraser, for someone as smart as you...." Ray shook his head, returning back to his point. "Like I was saying, we're doing this sex thing because we're friends and we like it. That's the only reason. If either of us have any other reasons, I don't want to hear about it."

Now, Fraser was confused. "What other reasons?"

"Never mind. It doesn't matter, cause we don't. So you gonna stand there all night, or you gonna come to bed?"

And there it was. Yet another conversation with Ray that might have given a slower man mental whiplash, but Fraser was capable of keeping up with Ray's sudden directional shifts. Or at least, he understood the last question perfectly well. "Bed will be just fine."

Tonight, Ray seemed to lack the feverishness of the first time. Despite his ultimatum, he seemed perfectly content to press Fraser back against the doorframe where they stood, moving his hands exploringly over Fraser's body. The touch was tantalizing over the thick fabric of Fraser's uniform, not even close to the level of contact Fraser wanted. But he stood still, giving Ray whatever he needed to be happy.

Ray's fingers found the hardness at Fraser's groin, and the Mountie couldn't keep from pressing against Ray's hand, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the doorframe as he did so. Ray chuckled, rubbing his palm gently in a vaguely circular pattern. This was almost enough to overwhelm even Fraser's iron control. It was even worse with his eyes closed - he was more aware than ever of the scent of Ray's arousal, of the sound of his lust-deepened breathing, of every place along his body that was touching Ray's.

"God, you're hot, Fraser." Fraser couldn't hold back a moan at the caress of Ray's voice. "Come to bed." The words were almost enough to drive Fraser over the edge. He fumbled for the switch to turn out the living room lights; Ray was sitting on the bed when he turned around, all but bouncing with energy as he kicked off his shoes.

Fraser crossed to the bed, crouched down, and hooked an arm around Ray's legs. Scooping them onto the bed, he pushed Ray back with his other hand. Glancing up at Ray's face, he glimpsed Ray's "I dare ya" grin, and couldn't keep from smiling back.

He crawled halfway up Ray, then stopped to look down at the bulge in Ray's pants. Someday, he wanted the chance to make long, slow love to Ray, worshiping his body and slowly driving him as crazy with lust as Fraser himself felt this very minute. This was not to be the day, however.

Instead, his nimble fingers undid the button and zipper of Ray's jeans, pulling them down over Ray's slim hips. The underwear followed, leaving only Ray's cock, glistening with pre-cum.

Leaning over it, Fraser swirled his tongue around the head, then slid his mouth down the length of Ray's shaft. Ray's fingers were in Fraser's hair, his lips spread wide, and his feet flat against Fraser's sides. Fraser applied suction, moving his head slowly up and down. Ray's hips jerked, and Fraser pressed down on them with his hands, rubbing soothingly. The nervous energy that was a part of Ray was still there, and Fraser wondered if Ray would ever be truly relaxed with this - with him.

"Fraser!" His name, coming from those beautiful lips, spoken with the inflection that was so uniquely Ray Kowalski, calling out his desperation. He ran his tongue in a line up the underside of Ray's cock, then wrapped a hand around the base, stroking firmly as he circled his tongue again around the head.

This was too much for Ray. He made a half strangled noise, and came into Fraser's mouth. The taste was so completely 'Ray', Fraser wanted to make it a part of himself. He swallowed most of it, licking up the rest from Ray's thighs and balls.

"God, Fraser, where'd you learn to do that?"

"Actually, Ray -"

"No, stop. I don't really want to know." Fraser could hear the grin in Ray's voice as he spoke, the simple happiness, the passion simmering just below the surface. "Between mooses and Vecchio, I just don't want to know."

Fraser placed a gentle kiss against the tender skin on the inside of Ray's thigh. "Moose," he corrected gently.

"Aw, jeez, Fraser. I told you, I really didn't want to know."

"No, no, Ray, I'm only informing you that the plural of moose is moose."

"Well, that's stupid. How are you supposed to know how many you're talking about?" Ray's fingers were still running lightly through Fraser's hair, a deeply relaxing gesture, but Fraser wasn't quite ready to relax. His own body was still demanding release.

Sticking a finger in his mouth, he licked it up and down to make it slick. Then, gently, he pressed it against the opening to Ray's body.

Instantly, there was tension Fraser could feel radiating off the slender form beneath him. "Ray?"

"Stop it, Fraser."

"What-"

"Just stop it." He pulled away from Fraser's hand. "I don't like that." There was a reserved flatness to Ray's voice, and Fraser slowly rubbed his hand over Ray's stomach, trying to gain back the harmony of a moment ago.

"I'm sorry, Ray. I don't want to do anything you won't like."

Ray's expression was apologetic as he wriggled down even with Fraser, but there was a stubbornness in his eyes that Fraser recognized as a wall that couldn't be crossed - at least, not right now. Instead, the detective leaned forward to kiss Fraser lightly, then moved further down, until half of him was hanging off the bed ad his face was next to Fraser's crotch.

Ray's mouth was so very warm as he took Fraser in, and the Mountie groaned with pleasure. He could feel Ray's lips twitch into a smile at the sound, and then returned to applying suction. Ray's arms encircled Fraser's waist, pulling Fraser's hips against Ray as he deep-throated the Mountie. Overwhelmed by the sensations, Fraser let go in an explosive orgasm.

Ray sat up, wiping off his chin with his hand. "I-umm-do you-uh-or not?"

Even Fraser couldn't make sense of that question. "Do I what, Ray?"

"Do you wanna stay here tonight?" Ray was looking at the floor, his feet shuffling, looking for all the world like a teenager admitting to his father he'd wrecked the car.

"I would like that very much." Fraser pulled Ray down beside him, moving them both up so they were sharing a pillow. He wrapped his arms around his beautiful detective, reveling in the way Ray molded himself against Fraser like a cat.

"G'night, Fraser."

Fraser brushed his lips against Ray's forehead. "Pleasant dreams, Ray."

"You gonna be here in the morning?" The words were soft, tentative. Don't hurt me, they said.

Squeezing Ray against himself, Fraser kissed him once more, deeply. "Any morning you want me to be," he whispered into Ray's ear.

The rest of the night passed with the two men nestled against each other, as devoted to each other asleep as they were when awake.

Friends. Lovers. PArtners.