Refers to mature sexual situations.

Falling/Fallen

by MaryReilly

Disclaimer: Children, what are you doing in here? Get out of here! It features angst, about two men in love with the same man. If you don’t like that sort of stuff, or know you are too young for it, please go away. Oh, and I don’t claim to own Ray (Vecchio or Kowalski), Diefenbaker, or Benton Fraser, or any of the other recognizable characters; I’m just borrowing them for a little storytelling. They are all owned by Alliance Productions, and they can have them back when I’m done. In the meantime, I promise to provide a reasonable amount of entertainment for the private enjoyment of my fellow fans.

Send comments to address above. A “Call of the Wild” story.


Falling

I can’t believe I’m going to do this. I can’t believe I’m going to take a bullet for the Mountie. Benny. My Mountie. My Benny.

I saw the look in that imposter’s eyes. I know that look. I used to wake up with it every morning. The look that only someone who worshiped Benton Fraser, only someone who could put up with his endless, irritating blend of perfection and madness could have. That look.

I’ve been Armando Langustini for so long, I almost forgot how beautiful Benny is. But I never lost that look. I did forget how annoying he could be, but I never forgot how good he smelled. How good he felt under me, over me, near me. How could I forget that?

But I didn’t realize that anyone else could see it. How could I have been so stupid? Everyone can see it. But Benny loves me. Me, not some shoddy knockoff assigned to play me in the Chicago PD school play.

So I’m going to do it. Of course I’m going to do it. He would do the same for me. He loves me, just as much as I love him. My Mountie. My Benny.

Fallen

I’ve never seen him look at anybody that way. He adores him, it was written on his face. All over it. I half expected Fraser to jump that sleazeball right there, and lick his face. Or at least his lips. Was I imagining it, or did my straight-as-a-ruler, freeze-at-the-first-mention-of-sex partner not look at that greasy Italian’s lips like a starving man?

He never looks at me that way. Not that I’m jealous; how could I be? I parade my hormones in front of Fraser every day. He must think I’m the most well-laid guy in Chicago, the way I act. But what else can I do? Throw myself at his feet and beg for it? Nah, I’ll leave the hysterics to Turnbull.

He called him “Benny.” How ridiculous. Fraser, as a “Benny?” I can’t see it. But maybe I’m not looking hard enough. Why should I? You look too hard, you find out things you don’t really want to know.

Like, did I really want to know that Fraser looked at his old partner like a hunk of Grade A roast chuck? No, but I looked at Fraser, not believing that he would ever do anything like that and I saw it. And did I really want to know how that made me feel? No, but I looked and discovered that I was jealous. Did I need to know that? No, but I found that out about myself, and I made an idiot out of myself in the squadroom.

And now, I’m sitting outside a hospital room, watching Fraser’s heart break because his best friend is inside, dying. And I’m sitting here, watching my best friend go through hell. This is love? I don’t want to have anything to do with it.

My phone rings; Turnbull comes through, and Fraser is at my side again. I’m back in the pack, running on the trail with my best friend and partner. If this is all I can get, I’ll take it. Until he says it’s over, I’ll take it all, I’ll take every scrap I can get, snatching them up like a starving man.