I think this should be rated 'R'. :)

SECOND BANANA FLAMBE

by Pam Rush and James Walkswithwind
because a good slash story will fight germs

	Ray gazed into Don's limpid brown eyes and shuddered deliciously.  "If
they only knew...." he smiled tenderly at the Toronto detective.
	"Oh, pul-eeze.  They're much too angst-ridden and introspective
to get a clue."
	"True.  Forget *them* -- we're here *now*."
	Don smiled, and leaned forward.  He felt strong hands on his 
shoulders, supporting him as he moved.  He had never felt such a sense
of rightness, than he did now, here in this huge house, empty but for
the two.  He smiled as he felt the man beside him fall into what might
have been a dancer's rhythm, and he spared a quick glance at the other's
face and smiled as they moved beside, and around each other.
	The smile was returned, Ray's eyes alight with the sheer pleasure of
the moment.  He opened his mouth to speak, say something which would
strengthen the connection they had found, formed today, but then he said
nothing for nothing, really, needed to be said.  Centuries of like couples
could have told him that, there are times when words distract, fail to
shed light on what is already so clear, felt through the fingertips and
tasted on the tongue, seen and heard and voices are not necessary beyond
the involuntary sighs and other wordless expressions of delight.  Don
broke the gaze first, turning his attention to other things, knowing
that the communication would not end.
	Ray waited patiently, watching as Don's eyes closed.  His 
expression was one of sheer contentment, as if knowing that although
so much more remained to be done, it was already known that nothing less
that perfection would be acheived tonight.  Ray felt a moment of astonishment;
he had never thought something like this was possible, every time he'd
done this in times past he'd only found a pale, lifeless imitation of
the 
absolute.. ecstasy of the real thing.  He was amased and grateful that
he'd been able to be here, share this, be a part of what he knew he could
never explain.  Those who could understand would know already, and those
who did not know could never understand.
	Don motioned to him, bringing him out- a bit, of his reverie.  
"Ok, Ray.  Do it now."
	Feeling only totally relaxed, completely confident, ignoring the disasters
and botched attempts they had endured all week, Ray reached out and took
what was waiting for him, poised on the edge of enternity.  Carefully,
mindlessly he took ahold, letting the needs of the moment dictate his
moves.  He watched his hands, moving in ancient paths; he heard a gentle
sigh from his partner- not at work, but here, at play, at life, he glanced
up only briefly and was reassured by the expression he saw there.  
	Don's face was melted into what could only be called rapture, with anticipation
and an assurity that this time it would happen.  His gaze was fixed on
the motions of Ray's hands, his fingers twitching as if he might himself
be making those motions, but without any urgency or fear that he might
have to do anything other than watch, and wait, and feel. One of the
several moments of certainty passed and Don spared a moment to share
a wide, triumphant grin with Ray.
	"I think we've got it this time, I think we've really got it." 
His voice barely a whisper, as if volume would disturb what was happening
below.. and all around.  
	Ray could only nod, and then he looked back down, keeping his hand moving
in slow easy circles, fascinated by the gentle rising and falling of
his hand.  He heard in the back of his mind, a whisper of thanks that
the house was empty for another day, had been all week, for otherwise
this never would have happened.  Hampered by the presence of, well, of
*anyone* he never would have dreamt of making the suggestion, never would
have imagined it would be accepted-- and even if, by stretch of what
was believeable and understandable, had they found themselves here anyway,
it would never have been like this.  He knew, from so many times he'd
had to hurry, or simply restrain his passions from knowing that just
beyond the door *anyone* could be standing, listening, wondering... 

	"I think.. almost.. almost there.."  Don's hushed voice crept 
into his consciousness, the strain of excitement pressing against them
both.  Ray felt the other man tense, and smiled, feeling the tension
in himself as well and knowing that yes, today it was going to happen.
"Pour the sauce!"  
	Ray swiftly and carefully moved, lifting the pan and tilting it, letting
the sauce run into the bowl Don now held below it.  The red sauce covered
the soften pasta; Ray gave the pan a slight shake to encourage the rest.
Then he laid the pan aside and watched as Don took over the task, gently
shaking the sauce down into the folds of the heated dough.  Ray swallowed,
nervous now that the moment of truth was upon them.  Five times before
they had tried this and five times before something had gone wrong- pasta
over- or undercooked, sauce burnt or mushrooms gone bad.  He said nothing
as Don placed the bowl on the counter, and handed them both forks.
	Ray waited for Don to taste first.  He watched as the other man speared
a noodle, covered in sauce, and raised it to his mouth.  For a moment
there was nothing, no sounds, no motions other than slow chewing. Then
he relaxed, and smiled.
	"Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a winner!"  Don nodded at the
bowl, and as Ray jumped forward to try his own bite, Don began moving
quickly.  He gathered plates and bowls, moving things which both had
forgotten were there in their concentration on the pasta dish.  Now salad
and bread found their way to the table, along with the long-opened wine
and celebrated pasta.
	When the table was set, ready for feasting, Don and Ray took a 
moment and simply stared.  
	"I can't believe it.. we did it.  It actually worked!"  Ray shook his
head.  "I can't believe Benny and Nick didn't want to be here for this."
"Hey, it just means more for us."  Don told him, as he sat down. "Besides,
they wouldn't understand."
	"And we won't tell them what they're missing, either."  Ray sat as well,
and soon all conversation fell away again, once again caught up in the
ecstasy of the moments.  Food was consumed with great and passionate
care, wine was imbibed and somewhere, out across the darkened city, a
wolf whimpered.  In his plate was a pile of what could only be called
dog food and he knew that elsewhere italian sauages had been carved up
into sauce.  He also knew he could have been there for the event had
only *some* humans (ok, human and other) realised that eating was more
important than.. well, whatever it was Fraser and Knight were doing.

	Later that night dishes were piled in the sink and left for 
morning, wine glasses and a second bottle carried upstairs, laughter
and soft spoken words dancing in the air.  

the end