Disclaimer: Written for personal entertainment without any intention of ever profiting there from.

Author's Notes: Shay and Bluster both beta read this for me and my gratitude is deep and abiding.

Story Notes: I think of this as a melancholy look at what the buddy relationship would really result in for two heterosexual men, but there is mention of m/m as well as het sex. It's all off camera, though.

One night stands out for me.

*Not that it was any different than a lot of other nights, just that it was the night I realized this was what our lives were going to be.*

I knew the house was empty as soon as I came through the door. That meant Fraser must have got luckier than me, since it must have been past three. I tossed my keys into the carved wood bowl on the little table by the door and sighed. It wasn't that I was jealous of him, but there was this twist of pain inside me when I thought about Fraser. At least, Fraser like that, because somehow it wasn't right.

Fraser shouldn't be doing one-night stands.

But he was, and I was, because never the twain would meet, ya know?

I shrugged out of my coat and hung it up in the closet, even wiped my boots an extra time (it only takes a minute to be neat and makes Fraser happy), then headed through the little two bedroom house we rent to the back door to let Dief in from the backyard. The yard's the reason we shell out the extra bucks for a house, so Dief doesn't end up locked inside or riding with us all the time. It's not a lot, but it's better than an apartment, and between Fraser and me we can swing it.

Dief brushed in past my leg with a yip. I followed him through the dark hall into the kitchen. I didn't bother turning the light on when I got there, just opened up the fridge and fished around by the light inside. I hadn't drunk much at the club, hadn't eaten since lunch, and I was tired, so I just wanted something fast and easy.

I should have stopped for some fast food on the way home from the hotel, but I thought either Fraser would be back and wondering about me, or if he wasn't, then Dief would be stuck out in the cold, so I'd given that a pass.

Let's see, I thought. There were a couple of pieces of cold pizza inside and no one to frown when I tossed one to the wolf, who caught it in the air and, well, wolfed it down. I took the other piece and a bottle of beer for myself.

Straightening up, I caught a glimpse of myself in the dark mirror of the kitchen window and flinched. Then I stood there, in the light from the refrigerator, with my beer and my pizza in my hands, and stared at my reflection.

Skinny (lanky, said Fraser in my head), pale, worn-looking guy. Spiky blond hair half matted down, shirttails out, mouth turned down, and an empty darkness where my eyes should have been.

Alone.

Jesus.

Down on the floor by his water bowl, Dief whimpered. "No, you can't have mine too," I told him, grateful for the distraction. I do that now, talk to the wolf just like Fraser does. He does stuff I do now, too. Like a couple of old married folks, that's us, except we aren't.

Because it's never quite enough. Neither of us can give the other everything we need.

So some nights it's me going out and some nights it's Fraser, looking for a one-night stand because neither one of us has enough left over to make anything work with someone else.

It hit, then: this was it. All there was, all there ever would be.

I shoved the pizza back in the fridge and fled the kitchen with my beer, only to find myself just as alone in the dark living room. The green LED glow of the clock in the VCR and the faint halogen-orange illumination from the street lights seeping through the curtains showed the black bulk of the sofa and chairs, my roll top desk, an old rocking chair Fraser brought home one day, the bookcase we put up together, but just the shapes, blurred and only half real.

I twisted the top off my beer and took a gulp, hardly registering the bitter taste, just the cold and wet. Dief's toenails clicked against the linoleum as he followed me out of the kitchen.

I stumbled over to the sofa and sank down on it. Dief jumped up with me and I didn't have the heart to make him get down. He pressed close and I let my fingers sink deep in his ruff, past the cold that still clung to the outside of his coat and into the warm, wooly undercoat. I found the spot under his jaw that made him whimper in bliss and scratched.

I sat there long after I'd finished my beer, thinking.

We should have walked away from each other after the Muldoon case. Should have called it quits then, instead of heading off across the snow chasing something no one ever finds. We were too lonely to let go, though.

It started when we brought the dog team into Norman Wells. Fraser got us a room at the hotel, and we both took advantage of the hot water that came with the bathroom, and cleaned up. Fraser insisted I go first, so afterward I headed down to the hotel bar to wait for him before going to dinner. It felt so good to strip off some of the layers, I'd got ambitious and gone ahead, shaving and even spiking up my hair too. For me, I looked good.

Good enough to pick up a pretty Native girl who was there with some of her friends. It had just been Fraser and me on the trail for months, ages since I'd even seen a woman. I'd almost forgotten how to flirt, but she hadn't, and I liked the way her eyes narrowed into slits when she laughed. She offered and I said yes. But the next morning, I gave her a kiss and met up with Fraser for breakfast before we headed out again. It never even occurred to me to stick around, to get to know her, because the sex was nice, but I didn't need any of the rest of it, the caring or having somebody, because I had Fraser.

And that was the problem. Fraser and me were more important to each other than anyone else. No room left for a romantic relationship with a woman.

We were back in Yellowknife the night he disappeared with a woman he'd known before the RCMP exiled him to Chicago. Maybe it was easier for him because she was someone he knew. That night I felt cold and sick, wondering if he'd be back, and when he did show up the next morning, waiting for him to tell me he'd found someone and meant to stay with her. He never has, though, and now I think he never will, and that's a real shame.

We went on from there. One-night stands suck, but sometimes both of us needed something physical that we couldn't offer each other. I didn't know how Fraser rationalized it, but I always felt guilty. Sometimes I wondered if he didn't go out just so I wouldn't feel as guilty, feel like it was a weakness that I needed something more.

So ... no house in the suburbs, no wives, no kids. Him and me and Dief were all the family we were ever going to have and it felt pretty damn lonely right then. I knew if I left, Fraser could find someone and fall in love, have those things he deserved. I might even find someone else, too. Only I did love him and knew he loved me.

It would have been perfect if we'd been gay. But we'd tried that one night and it didn't work for either of us. By mutual agreement, we'd never said anything about it again. Just went back to the one-night stands.

I sat there until Fraser came in. I never said anything, but he saw me there, of course.

"Ray, are you all right?" he asked quietly, coming over to the sofa. "Did something happen?"

I gave him a half smile.

"Not really."

He took my hand and pulled me up to my feet. As I swayed close to him, I could smell perfume caught in his sweater. Perfume, sweat, sex ... yeah, he'd gotten lucky. He probably smelled the same things on me.

"You should go to bed. You need to sleep," he said.

"The sheets'll be cold," I complained.

"You can sleep with me."

I followed him into his bedroom and crawled into bed with him. Dief padded in behind us, found the spot he liked on the braided rug next to the bed, and lay down after circling three times. My shoulder just brushed Fraser's; he was lying there on his back, straight, with his hands on his stomach. The soft sound of his breath as he sank toward sleep was as familiar to me as my own heartbeat.

"Go to sleep, Ray," he murmured. Down on the floor Dief made a little huffing sound, dreaming of snow and swift white hares coursing across it. I let my eyes close. Beside me, I could tell Fraser had drifted off, too.

I thought of letting go of him and knew I couldn't do it. What we had wasn't enough, but I could never give it up.

*That's the night that stands out in my mind. I don't know if Fraser ever had his own epiphany or if he always understood, but I know he'll never leave either. If sometimes I wish he would, the feeling never lasts long.*

I guess, if you can't have everything you want, you settle for what you can get.

End What You Can Get by Auburn: booklover@saber.net

Author and story notes above.