Author's Website: http://trinity.slashcity.net

Disclaimer: dueSouth belongs to Alliance.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes:

"You hungry Fraser?" Ray asked the question softly, but Fraser had no trouble hearing him over the shouting and ringing phones and general din of the squad room

"Yes, Ray. Would you like to..."

"Vecchio, in my office, now!"

Ray turned, instantly reacting to Lieutenant Welsh's booming voice. Fraser began to follow, but was immediately warned off. "No, not you Constable, just Vecchio."

"Yes, sir," answered Fraser, feeling a twinge of guilt for having to let his partner face the lieutenant alone.

A discreet glance into Welsh's office assured Fraser that the lieutenant wasn't - what was the colorful phrase? ripping Ray a new one. He settled down in Ray's chair and started sifting through the inbox on his desk, which was well past the point of being full and had begun to spill over onto other piles of paper on the desk. After a few minutes of efficient sorting, Fraser had thrown away the junk mail, expired coupons, and notices for last month's retirement parties, and was left with a neat pile of case notes, half finished reports, and a few pages of stuff he couldn't identify but didn't feel comfortable throwing out.

He was about to start cleaning out the desk drawers when Ray emerged from Welsh's office. Tossing a single piece of paper into his now empty inbox, Ray dropped into the guest chair on the other side of his desk, and leaned forward, shoulders hunched. Fraser took a quick look at the paper - it was a letter of commendation written to Ray Vecchio. Lieutenant Welsh hadn't been reprimanding Ray, he'd been praising him, yet Ray still looked edgy and aggravated.

"So, uh, you still up for dinner?" asked Ray, nervously tapping his foot.

"Yes, Ray, did you want to order a pizza?" asked Fraser, holding up one of the few pizza coupons that had not yet expired.

"Pizza... how about Chinese? You've been wanting to try that new place on Adelaide and Duncan."

"Perhaps another time, Ray." He'd been looking forward to pizza all afternoon and Chinese food sounded rather... unsatisfying. "If we order the pizza now," he continued, "Sandor will have it at your apartment by the time we get there."

Ray's shoulders relaxed as the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "Ok, you want pizza, we'll order pizza," he said, reaching for the phone.

"Oh, by the way, Ray," said Fraser, settling into to passenger seat of the GTO. "Congratulations on your commendation."

"What? Oh, yeah, that." Ray jerked the car into gear and pulled out of the station parking lot. "It's no big deal."

"But, Ray, it was..." Fraser bit his tongue when he suddenly realized the letter would be going into Ray Vecchio's file, not Ray Kowalski's. "I'm sorry, Ray."

"Sorry?" replied Ray, with a half-laugh, half-snort. "You got nothing to be sorry for, Benton-buddy."

"Ray, I..." He stopped. Ray was looking at him in... that way. Fraser wished he hadn't brought it up at all.

He'd already taken too many liberties today. He'd dragged Ray into a domestic squabble with which they had no business interfering. He had driven Ray's GTO three full blocks without permission. He'd sat in Ray's chair, sorted through his mail, and practically invited himself to have dinner in Ray's apartment. It was rude. Rude and dangerous, and every time he intruded on Ray's life, he took the risk that Ray would withdraw, that Ray would tell Fraser to leave, or worse yet, would simply leave himself. Just because Ray had thus far accepted...

"Fraser! What is it? Fraser? Earth to Fraser."

"Ah, yes," said Fraser quickly. The silence seemed to contribute to Ray's edginess, so Fraser continued. "I was just concerned that the letter of commendation was going to be sent to Ray Vecchio's file, not yours."

"Oh? Oh, that, yeah, well, that's ok. We did good work on that case, Fraser."

"Yes, Ray, but a very dangerous man was caught and sent to prison because of your efforts. You deserve the recognition, not Ray Vecchio."

"Fraser, I've seen Vecchio's file - he could use that letter."

"True enough."

"Besides," Ray continued, "aren't you the one who became a cop so good people could safely tuck their kids in at night?"

Fraser smiled at that. No, Ray wouldn't be concerned about whether a letter went into his files or someone else's.

"Ray, are you tired of being Ray Vecchio?"

"Not really." Ray seemed to release some of the tension in his shoulders as he sat back in the car seat. "The Vecchio family's a little tough to take, but I've been able to avoid them for the most part. Can't complain about the working conditions."

Ray smiled and turned toward Fraser, who was suddenly quite thankful he had decided to wear his serge today. It hid a multitude of... feelings... that he wasn't ready to reveal yet.

"The name thing doesn't bother me too much," continued Ray. "Wasn't too fond of Kowalski. Lemme tell you - you grow up in Chicago with an s-k-i on the end of your name, the kids tease you. It's worse than carrying a Mary Poppins lunch box to school. That's how I learned how to fight. That, and the Stanley thing."

The Stanley thing? Fraser decided not to ask. "I'm very sorry, Ray."

"Hey, it's all right, I got over it. Besides, you know, I've worked undercover a few times before this, and it's all the same. Kowalski, Vecchio, Cagney, Lacy, whatever."

"Yes, I can imagine," replied Fraser, trying not to imagine what might happen if Ray Kowalski took another undercover assignment, whether there'd be room in Ray's new life for someone named Benton Fraser.

They rode the rest of the way to Ray's apartment in silence. The pizza delivery person - not Sandor, but a young lady who thankfully did not try to flirt with either of them - had just pulled into the parking lot ahead of them. Ray paid her, and Fraser carried the pizza up the stairs, following Ray into his apartment.

He handed Ray the pizza box, and following Ray's oft repeated instructions, stripped off his serge and hung it up in the foyer closet. As Ray searched for napkins in the kitchen, Fraser managed to steal a look into Ray's bedroom.

His heart skipped a beat when he didn't see the dreamcatcher in its usual spot, hanging on the wall over Ray's bed. Had Ray... no, there it was, on Ray's pillow. Fraser breathed a sigh of relief. He knew he was being ridiculous, placing so much importance on whether or not Ray kept his birthday gift. Ridiculous - but as with everything else concerning Ray Kowalski, he couldn't seem to help himself.

"So Fraser, what do people call you back home?"

Fraser spun around, hoping Ray hadn't caught him looking in his bedroom. "What do people call me?"

"Yeah, you know, everyone here calls you Fraser, unless they're calling you Fraysh-er," Ray said, exaggerating the mispronunciation. "But back home, your dad was named Fraser, and so was your mom, and your grandparents, so they couldn't've called you that."

"Ah, I see," Fraser replied, relieved Ray wasn't referring to the many variations of the word 'freak' people used behind his back. "My parents and grandparents called me Benton, and everyone else called me either that or Ben."

Rolling his eyes, Ray set two drinks on the coffee table and sat on the small couch. Fraser sat next to him and took a slice of pizza. "Yeah, yeah, right. What do you prefer?"

"Prefer?" He was still distracted by his momentary panic over the dreamcatcher, and was having trouble following the conversation. There was only one type of pizza available for consumption, and surely Ray couldn't have been talking about sexual preference, no matter how much Fraser might wish that were so.

"What name do you prefer?" Ray mumbled through a mouthful of pizza.

Fraser brushed his eyebrow with his thumb. He couldn't remember anyone ever asking him that. "I... I don't know. I suppose it doesn't matter."

"Oh yeah? Huh. If anyone tried to call me Stanley, I'd knock their head off. Except my mom, of course, but you can't change her mind about anything."

"I like..." he started. "Fraser is fine, Ray." Especially the way Ray said it. Pronounced correctly, always with a hint of affection underneath the impatience. At least, that's what Fraser had come to believe, no matter how delusional that belief might be.

Ray nodded. "Right, right. Fraser it is, then. Why don't you ever correct people when they call you Fraysh-er?"

"A minor mispronunciation is trivial, Ray. I know who they're referring to when they call me Fraysh-er."

"Yeah, but, doesn't it annoy you?"

"No." Fraser hesitated a moment, tilting his head to the right. "Well... yes."

"Ha, I knew it!" Ray's smile lit up his entire face. "Anyone ever try to call you Benny when you were younger?"

"When I was younger, no," Fraser explained, wishing Ray hadn't brought up that particular form of his name. "But my old partner, the original Ray Vecchio, called me Benny."

"You're kidding!" said Ray, snorting and almost dropping his pizza slice. "Ray Vecchio called you Benny?"

"No. I mean, no, I'm not kidding," said Fraser, trying unsuccessfully to think of a way to change the subject. "Yes, Ray Vecchio called me Benny."

"No way. You are, you are nothing like a Benny!" Shaking his head, Ray took another slice and turned on the television, surfing through all the channels twice before turning it off again.

"So, Benny, he called you Benny," said Ray, picking up the empty pizza box and shoving it into the wastebasket before sitting down again. "Was that something you asked him to do, like a pet name?"

"A pet name? No, I don't think so."

"So, it didn't, it didn't mean anything special?"

Special? Fraser thought for a moment, and realized 'special' meant 'more than friends.' He shook his head. "No."

"Did you like it?"

"Did I like that Ray Vecchio called me Benny?"

"Uh, yeah, was it, uh, one of your little things?"

Little things... surely this Ray wouldn't have to ask that. This Ray seemed to have an instinctive aptitude when it came to knowing Benton Fraser. Who realized Ray had begun to show signs of... not agitation this time, but worry.

Fraser forced himself to answer. "I... always hated when he called me Benny." Fraser let out a breath of air, only then realizing how tense he had been.

"Why didn't you tell him to stop?"

"I couldn't."

"What do you mean you couldn't?"

Fraser hesitated again; this was almost as difficult as saying he hated being called Benny. "Ray Vecchio was my partner and a good friend, one of the few friends I had in Chicago. But we still didn't... couldn't talk about certain things. I was afraid that if I told him I didn't like being called Benny, that he'd become angry, and... " He looked at Ray, who seemed to be listening intently. "I know it was irrational, but I was afraid he would leave me."

The unspoken thought hung in the air: Ray Vecchio had left him anyway. It seemed to be an inevitable part of Fraser's life - no matter how polite he was, no matter how accepting and accommodating he tried to be, no matter how often he bit his tongue and ignored his own needs, people would eventually leave.

"But you told me," said Ray.

"Yes."

Nodding, Ray settled further into the couch and stretched his legs out in front of him. He casually rested his arm on the back of the couch behind Fraser. "I'm glad, I'm glad, Fraser. That's, uh. . ."

"Buddies?"

"Yeah."

Fraser leaned back until his head was almost touching Ray's arm. It was torture, to be this close but not to be allowed to touch Ray, not the way he wanted to. He shouldn't have allowed himself to get this close, but couldn't back away.

Ray didn't seem to mind the proximity. In fact, he was smiling and moving closer, turning toward Fraser, just a bit, just enough so Fraser could feel Ray's breath tickle his neck. This was close, too close, and Fraser felt his body react, and he hoped Ray would back off because he couldn't, didn't know how, but Ray wasn't backing off. He was looking at Fraser with an expression that said 'I'll try anything.'

Anything. Ray had always accepted Fraser's intrusions before, perhaps Fraser could take... more, just a little more... of what he wanted. He reached out to touch Ray's cheek, lightly, to allow Ray to pull back if he chose. Fraser moved closer, until his lips were touching Ray's, and Ray still didn't pull back, didn't run away, didn't push Fraser away. Instead, Fraser felt Ray's mouth move against his, felt Ray's arm wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Fraser responded to the unspoken invitation, gripping Ray's shoulders, pulling Ray's body toward his, crushing Ray's lips under his. They both pulled back moments later, breathless.

"I'm not going anywhere, you know," said Ray, panting.

"Of course not, Ray, this is your apartment." Fraser kissed him again, knowing perfectly well what Ray meant.

Ray shifted his body, allowing Fraser to move closer. "So come on, you sure you like being called Fraser? You don't want me to call you Benton? Ben? Fraysh? Constable?"

The image of a naked and sweaty Ray Kowalski calling him 'Constable' in the throes of passion suddenly flashed through his mind, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He shouldn't be thinking about that, not yet. Just because Ray had kissed him didn't mean he wanted to do anything more right then and there.

But Ray had always been with him, every step of they way, good to go, partners, buddies. A duet. Fraser allowed some hope to snake into his heart as he leaned forward and nibbled on Ray's ear, whispering, "Fraser. I want you to call me Fraser."