Disclaimer: Everything but the ideas belong to AA, et al.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes: After CotW - way after.

Only In My Dreams December 25, 2003 to December 21, 2004 By Bridget Cochran

(F/K, NC-17 - Sex and language)

AN: Yes, it's been a year since I started this story. I wanted a companion piece - a RayK POV thing - to A Heart Alone, and this is the result. Thanks to Akite and Karen/S, two people who are with me everyday - across the country, but with me just the same. They gave the story the once over (more than once), but any errors are mine. And to ZZ, wherever she may be. She was the best roommate ever, but I can't find her now....

Set after CotW. Long after CotW.

Ray looked at the form on his desk and grunted. Another form, one more form, and then another. And another. Seems like that's all he got these days.

That's what he got for putting paperwork off.

The squad room was pretty quiet. It was after three and just the losers and the rookies were still stuck here. Ray, he was in the loser category.

His cell phone rang. "Stanley?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's me, mum." He picked up his pen and filled his name and badge number at the top of the arrest form.

"Are you still at work?" She sounded worried, not surprised.

"Yeah, mum, ranking detective on shift."

"When will you get off work?"

Twenty questions. Great. "Seven o'clock."

"Will you be going home then?"

Aw, come on, mum. "Nope. The Vecchios think I should come to their house. They eat big before going to Midnight Mass."

"You're going with them to Mass?" That sure perked her up.

"Sure, mum." Cripes, now he had to go to church. He didn't lie to his mother. Rubbing his eyes, he sighed. "You and pop going to Mass then?"

"We're going at seven, honey. Your father doesn't like to drive that late anymore." There was a pause. "Wish we could celebrate the holiday with you, Stanley. I hate being so far away."

"Mum, we've been over this. You and dad need to be somewhere warm. Arthritis is nothing to fool with."

"I know, honey, I know." She paused again, like she was weighing her words. "It's just that I hate leaving you up there all alone."

Yep, that was it in a nutshell. Poor, pathetic, alone Ray. "Aw, come on, mum."

"I know, Stanley. You're fine. You have the Vecchios. You have your work. You have the gym. I just wish there was family there."

"Mum." Ray was getting over this conversation fast.

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "I'm glad you have plans for tonight, honey. Light a candle for Gigi and Yaya."

Shit, now he really did have to go to church. You couldn't lie about lighting candles for dead grandparents. That would bring on a visit from the ghost of Christmas Mean. "Okay, mum. Will do. Give my love to Dad."

"You bet I will, honey. I love you."

"I love you, too, mum."

Ray set the phone down gently on his desk and lowered his head onto his folded arms. Arizona was too fucking far away. He hadn't seen them since they left seven months ago and it hurt. A lot. More than he let on. To anybody. Even himself.

His cell phone rang again. He considered brushing it off his desk into the trashcan, but it would still be ringing. Frannie better know how to take Jingle Bells off his damn ringer thingee or he was going to plant the damn thing high and dark.

"Yeah," he growled.

"Aren't we a grouch puss?" Frannie.

"Yes, we are. What do you want?"

"You're not backing out of dinner, are you?"

"Hell, no. Why?"

"Ma went to Stankowski's and got you perogies and halupkis, so you'd feel at home."

"Shit, Frannie, she always makes me feel at home there." Which was true when Vecchio wasn't there. Like this year. He and Stella were down in Florida, not traveling north due to because Stella was very pregnant.

That hurt too. Ray Fucking Vecchio gets his life back and decides to take most of Ray Fucking Kowalski's along with it, leaving him with the loser shift at the precinct and dinner with the Vecchio's.

Not fair to the Vecchios. They always made him feel welcome, not just 'cause he saved Vecchio's well clad ass, but 'cause they liked him. Him.

"I know, Ray. But you know she has a soft spot for you." Frannie sounded like she didn't get that, but had learned to live with it.

"I got the kids something. Hope you don't hate it."

"Ray, I told you, they don't need anything but you to visit."

"Yeah, but that ain't enough for my God kids."

"Whatever you say, but it better not make noise."

It did. An electronic piano and drum kit. He got the drum kit cheap from Jack Huey. They could make beautiful music with it. When he wasn't there. Which was a lot.

"Frannie, you still taking Ma to Mass tonight?"

"Yeah, I got the short straw."

Ray smiled at that. "How 'bout I drive you there?"

"You know I won't say no."

"Didn't think so." Frannie was pregnant, too. Ray didn't ask no more, just went with it. Frannie was as fertile as any crescent he ever ran across. "You gonna be okay, staying up that late?"

"Yeah, I took a nap with the kids this after, and if I lay down after supper, I'll be good."

"You sure?"

"Ray!"

She sounded irritated, but in that you're my brother, so I'll put up with it way. "Okay, okay," he said, checking his watch. Quarter of four. This afternoon was going to last forever. "Just don't want you to get too run down." She got run down with the twins and was on bed rest for weeks until they were born. Ray'd spent a lot of time at the hospital with her. Watching soaps and reading Us and People magazine. Didn't ever want to do that again.

"I won't, bro. See you at 7.30?"

"You bet. Wouldn't miss it." He thumbed the phone off. No, he wouldn't miss it.

Lasagna, rigatoni, risotto - ham, turkey, sausage - perogies, halupki - wine. Lots and lots of wine. Ray only had the one glass. He was driving. Frannie had one, too. It was Christmas, she said when he looked at her over his glasses. Besides, she was Italian and wine was like water to Italians. See, you could lie to yourself about anything.

Ray wanted nothing more than to sprawl on the sofa and watch TV with Tony, but Frannie was fading and needed her nap. The lazy SOB coulda volunteered to take Ma to Mass and let Frannie get some sleep, but no, that wasn't the way Tony worked. Worked. Yeah, like that would happen. Maria was working triple time at the hospital, like she did every holiday.

"Time for bed, kids," he said rounding up two toddlers and a preschooler.

"Not time yet, Uncle Ray," Anastasia pouted.

"Like you can tell time, kid. It's Christmas Eve. Rules on Christmas are different."

"Santa comin'?" Freddie asked.

"Yep, on his way," Ray said as he picked the little boy up. Johnny stood with his arms in the air, wanting picked up, too. Always the quieter of the two, he laid his head on Ray's shoulder and began to pat his back. Yeah, Johnny was tired; he'd be out before his sleeper was zipped up.

Washing faces was a mess. Water, soap, wet wash cloths everywhere. Ray took off his sweater before he got that all messed up. It was the one Frannie gave him for Christmas last year. She'd surprised him - it wasn't ugly and it wasn't something Vecchio would have worn. It was plain charcoal merino. Soft enough that he didn't itch, but didn't look too sissy neither. He wore it to make her happy. It got a smile out of her, so, he figured she was happy.

Teeth brushing: another mess. The spitting though, they were pros. Ray let them brush a second time, so they could spit some more. And maybe they got a little more of the sugar of the season off their teeth while they were at it.

Changing squirming two year olds was never fun. Boys, worse. Hey, at least they helped - pulling the stick tabs off before Ray could even get them up on the changing table. If they were old enough to change their own diapers, they were old enough to use the potty, Ray thought uncharitably. Then Freddie started singing Rudolf wrong, the other two chimed in, wrong, and Ray forgot to be irritated.

"Read me Frosty," Anastasia demanded when they were dressed for bed.

"How do you ask?" Ray said, channeling his mother.

"Puh-lease read me Frosty."

"That's better," Ray said, settling everyone down under the covers of Anastasia's double bed. He took the book she handed him and began to read. He tried to move the story along by skipping a page, but they were onto him. He guessed they must have heard this story a million times by now. He knew they had the video, because they made him watch it on Easter. And Mother's Day. And the Fourth of July.

Johnny was the first one asleep, like Ray thought. Then Freddy nodded off, leaving Anastasia clinging to awake. "Santa comin', Uncle Ray. I's good, so's the boys."

"I know, honey."

"I not get a lub of coal." She was asking more than telling.

"Nope, no lump of coal for you."

"'Kay. Night-night kisses?"

"You bet, sweetheart." Ray hugged her to him and received a loud kiss on the mouth. He bent to kiss both his God sons' foreheads, breathing deeply the scent of bubble gum toothpaste and watermelon soap.

Okay. Maybe he was luckier than he thought. If he counted blessings, he'd have three to count. Still he couldn't help but envy Stella. His own babies would have been nice.

He turned off the lamp and headed to the bathroom to get his sweater. Grabbing some of Frannie's hair gel, he worked a little magic on his do. Not bad. Not great, but not bad. He thought about getting highlights again, but just for a minute. That was a phase, and he was past that now.

Downstairs, Ma Vecchio greeted him with another two cheek kiss, a cup of coffee and a cannoli. Like he needed a cannoli. "We'll get some meat on your skinny bones," she said. Moms had that universal thing going on, feed 'em up and they'll be happy. He couldn't help smiling. "Guess that means I get leftovers." Sure, he'd get leftovers. The perogies and halupki for sure. Lasagna, oh, yeah. Probably a couple of grocery bags filled with Rubbermaid. "Go sit on the divan and watch television."

Ray wasn't going to protest. He worked today. He wrestled kids to bed. He was going to be up past midnight. Sitting on the divan sounded a little like heaven.

Tony was watching some lame ass college bowl game. Except for the couple of years everybody was watching 'Dah Bears', Ray never quite got football. But it was just right for background noise. He sat, slouching, sipping coffee.

Frannie was shaking his shoulder and he was blinking into a bright light. "You don't have to go," she was saying.

"Yeah, I do." He sat up rubbing his eyes. "Promised my mum. Have to light some candles."

Ma Vecchio beamed at him like she had a priest for a son. "Such a good boy. You come back in the morning and I'll make you any breakfast you want. Anything."

"Pop Tarts?" he asked, bracing for her reaction. The slap across the back of his head didn't hurt. Much.

He opted out of confession. Twenty dollars worth of candles to honor dead relatives and another twenty for the collection would absolve him of the important stuff. Gigi, Yaya, Yaya's sister, Aunt Ruthie. And his parents. And Fraser. It couldn't hurt. God could keep an eye on him even if Ray couldn't.

St. Catherine's was an odd church. Old and ornate, but warm and inviting. Maybe it was Ray's mood. It was a good mix of Italians, Irish and Poles, each culture adding their own special garish to the stained glass, altar dcor and seasonal excess. And it smelled good. Incense and pine.

The choir was singing some cantata thing. Wasn't Bach Lutheran? Eccumanacada or something that tried to tie all the religions together. Sounded nice, though. They were sitting about halfway back on the left. Musta been the 'Vecchio place' because the pew was waiting for them when they got there. Ma first, big old Frannie and Ray on the aisle.

The entrance hymn started and Ray was on his feet with everyone else. Up and down. That he remembered like riding a bike. Nice thing about being Catholic, Mass was pretty much the same wherever you went. So, you didn't stick out like a sore thumb. Except for the looks he was getting, sitting beside the once again pregnant Frannie. The looks of speculation. Was he the mysterious sperm donor? He moved a little closer to Frannie, picking up her hand and twining her fingers with hers.

She looked up at him, question in her eyes. He shrugged and bumped her shoulder with his. Her smile was worth it.

When they stood for the gospel, someone was nudging into the pew beside them. You come late, you stand, Ray thought, not even looking at the guy, shouldering Frannie to move over.

It was Frannie's little squeal that made him look at the new arrival. He saw the Stetson first. Then the brown leather jacket, scuffed and cracked. Breath stopped in Ray's chest, but his heart kept pounding.

The face was wind burned and chapped; the hair was long, not glued down with stuff, and sporting hat head. His lips glistened like he'd put Blistex on just a minute ago. God, he looked good.

Everybody was sitting down now, ready for the Christmas homily. But not Ray and Fraser. They were still standing staring at each other. Frannie was pushing on him, a crooked smile on her face. "Get outta here," she whispered. "But, don't go too far; you still have to take us home."

Ray frowned like she wasn't making sense, but he turned around to see Fraser's back as he was walking to the back of the church. He wasn't letting the guy get away.

Fraser was waiting in the narthex, a welcoming smile on his face. Still not uttering a word, he moved through the front door into the night air. Ray followed like a rat in Hamlin. He still wasn't breathing right 'cause the night air turned him inside out, almost made him pass out. Slowing down, he took a deep, deep breath and waited until the grayness abated. He looked for Fraser and saw him standing a few feet away, waiting for him, head cocked and concerned.

"I'm coming, just need to catch my breath." Fraser waited for Ray to catch up and they continued walking around the corner, to the church parking lot. Breathing in and out wasn't a reflex right now, Ray was making an effort.

There parked behind the GTO was a road salt encrusted Jeep Cherokee, and a wild wolf desperately pawing at the filthy back window. The hound would have the window scratched like hell if he didn't stop soon. Fraser moved to open the rear passenger door. Eighty pounds of muscle, fur and bones jetted toward him like a bullet train almost knocking Ray to the ground. Grabbing fists full of hair, Ray knelt down to tussle with the dog. "Happy to see me? Happy to see me?" he repeated over and over, enjoying a coating of dog spit like he never thought he would. "You look good, Dief. That northern air must be good for you."

Ray squinted up at Fraser, who stood haloed by the light of the street lamp. His hat was completely gone and his arms were folded across his chest.

Standing up from the still hopping dog, Ray looked Fraser in the eyes. Deep in the eyes. Arms across his chest in an imitation of Fraser. "So, you came back." Ray's throat hurt as he spoke, like it was closing in on him.

Fraser's lips moved into a grim line as he nodded.

"You, um, said you wouldn't be coming south for a while."

"It's been a while." The voice was funny, like his throat hurt, too.

Ray's mouth pushed out as he kicked at the ground. Diefenbaker was looking at Fraser expectantly. "Yeah, it has." It'd been years, three and a half damn years.

"You look good," said the same rusty voice.

There wasn't a lot to say to that. Ray looked like Ray, never 'good'. Ray kept kicking at the ground. Over three years, and that's all he had to say, you look good. Ray twisted his neck and took a big sniff to clear his head. "You going to be here long?" He still was looking at Dief, who was still looking at Fraser.

Fraser sighed. "Long enough."

No kind of answer, but at least it wasn't 'no'. They stood silently in the cold church parking lot, under lamplight and a clear, starred sky, neither of them speaking. Ray wasn't talking because he'd go off like a rocket of whys and he didn't want to be mixing it up with Fraser when Frannie and Ma Vecchio would be coming out any minute. Dief came over and sat on Ray's boots, bringing a crack of a smile. The wolf wore his feelings on his fur. You have to respect that in a wolf.

The silence between them dragged on. Ray kicked at the loose cinders on the asphalt, opening his mouth to say something a couple of times.

A few stragglers started coming into the lot from church. It wasn't long before the Vecchio women came bounding up, Frannie moving like a determined steamroller. "Fraser, you take ma home so she doesn't have to pretzel into the back of Ray's car. Ray, you're with me."

Okay, Frannie, the drill sergeant. Ray went with it, leading her over to the passenger side. He and Fraser met on his way around the car. "You remember how to get there?" Ray couldn't keep the snotty from his voice.

"Yes, Ray, I remember."

He buckled up and had the car started, ready to back out when Fraser moved his Jeep, before Frannie spoke.

"So," she started and stopped again.

"So?" he asked backing out of the parking lot.

"Why's he here? Why'd he come?"

"Dunno."

"How long is he staying?"

"Dunno."

"Where's he staying?"

Ray almost said 'dunno' again, but he set his jaw. "My place."

Frannie settled back into the seat as they moved through the quiet Christmas Eve streets. "He looks good."

Ray smirked. "How else would he look?" Fraser was one of the few quasi-corpses that looked good in a coffin.

"Come on, Ray, get the block off your shoulder. He's here, it's Christmas, can't that be reason enough?"

"Reason enough to what?" Ray wanted to know.

"To just be glad he's here," she said quietly.

A lot of his tension left. He could do that for a few hours, hell, for a few days. But, somewhere along the line, they'd have to talk.

Before letting Frannie out of the car at the house, he had to accept a kiss and a promise to be back by seven AM for breakfast. "Tell Fraser to follow me, he ain't been to the new place."

Ray tapped his thumb on the steering wheel while he watched Fraser gingerly hug Frannie. She was pregnant, not breakable. Ma was on the porch shouting for them to remember to come to breakfast in the morning, and Merry Christmas, and God bless you.

When Frannie told him she thought the house was cute, he nearly didn't buy it. It was a little two bedroom bungalow out of range of the 27 and he'd owned it nearly three years now. His parents had lived with him until they left again for Arizona. Oddly enough, they'd gotten along pretty good and it had been nice to come home to a cooked meal and ironed shirts everyday.

They'd painted it and papered it within an inch of its new life, preserving the breakfast nook's glass block divider, the black and white ceramic tile in the bathroom and French doors between the living room and dining room. He even kept the white dotted Swiss caf curtains in said dining room when his mum left - the reminded him of the little old lady they bought the house from.

He pulled straight into the detached garage looking for Fraser's head lights. He met him at the garage door. "You got kibble for the wolf?" he asked, "'Cause I got nothing."

"I have food for him." Fraser had his hat in his hand.

"Good, great. Get the food and your clothes. I'll put the kettle on."

By the time Fraser and Dief had come in from the cold, Ray had two mugs of instant coffee ready. He watched Fraser put his duffle by the door and place his Stetson on it. Accepting the mug with a frown, Fraser said, "Ingesting caffeine at this late hour may preclude sleep."

Yep. That was Fraser. "Not with a shot of whiskey in it."

"Ah," Fraser said, and sipped at it gingerly.

"Frase, let go, it's Christmas."

Looking at Ray for a moment, Fraser took a gulp of the hot drink and did his best not to grimace. Ray smiled and looked down at Dief. The dog did a little sitting dance.

"I don't know what I got for you, dog." Ray looked around the kitchen. He spied a stale donut in a bag on the counter. He tossed it to the floor. Dief picked it up, put it down and rolled it around before picking it up again and dropping it at Ray's booted foot. Told him what Dief thought of stale donuts. Kneeling, he took the white muzzle in his hands to enunciate clearly, "You are a freak." Diefenbaker's tongue snuck out to lick Ray's nose.

"Okay," Ray stood, "Bed, we gotta face the Vecchios in the morning."

Fraser set his mug in the sink, empty. Ray smirked and chugged his own.

"Where will I sleep?"

"Not on the couch," Ray said. Fraser nodded. "Not the spare bedroom, either." Fraser frowned and looked at Ray again. Ray's eyes narrowed. "You better not have a problem with that."

He better not. Coming all this way, coming on Christmas Eve. Fraser was sleeping with him.

The cracking of the neck was the only answer Ray got. Some times it was the only answer he ever got. But, that he'd try to live with. For as long as Fraser was here.

Hat and duffle in the corner, Fraser mimicked Ray stripping to his shorts and tee shirt. Surrealism, meet Ray Kowalski's life. Straightening the covers took his eyes from where they wanted to travel. "You wanna get the light?" And it was dark.

Ray slid under the covers and waited. A while. "You come all this way, after all this time, and you're sleeping with me. Whether you want to or not."

The pause was forever. "I want to."

Yeah, Ray figured he would. Part and parcel of the whole weird, freakin' problem. So, he waited and before long the blankets were pulled back allowing Fraser to slip into bed. Instant shot of warmth memory. And scent memory.

Could be fatal.

Ray took a deep, deep breath before he rolled toward Fraser bumping into his side. Sliding a hand across the firm waist, he chuckled at his own flabby gut. His mom called it loose skin. Ray called it gravity and laziness. Fraser would just politely ignore it.

Like he was ignoring Ray's arm now, laying flat on his back like he was laid on a slab. "You look good, too," Ray said, finally. "You smell good." His nose grazed an ear. "Real good."

"I haven't bathed in two days."

No, he hadn't. Ray thought he smelled like he did on the adventure, or like when he was fresh from chopping wood in those last days together. Good smell. Manly smell.

"Uh huh," Ray whispered, "I get that."

Fraser shivered.

That was the cue Ray needed. His hand moved to the hem of Fraser's under shirt only to be stopped by a firm grip.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Fraser whispered as he moved back into Ray's embrace.

Duh. "I think I have an idea," Ray whispered back. His hand had now moved upwards to thumb a nipple. He smiled at the shudder that wracked Fraser's body. "You gonna tell me what you're doing here?"

The question was out before he could bite it back. Damn it. When he felt Fraser stiffen, he tightened his hold. "It's been over three years, Fraser. I have a right."

Damn right, he had a right. Three years ago, after their adventure, after their search, after becoming more than just friends, Fraser told him they had to go their separate ways. That his way was Canada and Ray's was the U.S.

"It's a joke, right, Fraser?" Ray had said. "You're kidding."

"I'm not, Ray. Our careers can't be thrown away for something that may have no future." Fraser had that steadfast, I'm right look. The one that frosted Ray's cupcake.

"But what if it does have a future?" It was hard not to sound whiny.

Fraser had squinted into the setting sun before finally saying, "The future is not now."

The future is not now. Should have had his mum embroider it on a pillow.

"I've received another promotion." Fraser brought him back to the real now.

"Sergeant Fraser?"

"Yes."

"That's why you came down?"

"Not entirely."

Pulling teeth would be easier. "Fraser," he warned, squeezing his waist tighter.

"As you said, it's been three years, Ray."

Ray nearly pushed him out of the bed. Fraser was being his usual hard to understand self and Ray could only take so much, even on Christmas. "You going to answer any of my questions?" he asked, trying to keep his molars from grinding.

"I don't know if I can, Ray."

Ray could only sigh and give it up. There was no understanding this man; there was just acceptance, if Ray chose to accept. Lowering his hand to clasp Fraser's hip, he let it go. For now. "Go to sleep," he whispered.

After a long, long silence in which neither of them went to sleep, Fraser said, "I'm sorry, Ray."

Like that helped. "Sorry for what?" The list had to be long.

"For - waiting so long to come to see you."

"I could have come north."

"Without an invitation?"

Yeah, that hurt. No, Benton Fraser had never been forthcoming with offers to make the trip back to the great white wilderness. Ray did not go where he wasn't wanted. "Nah," he said. "What's the point of this conversation?" he asked after a minute.

"Just-" There was a pause. "Just that I'm sorry."

"You know what," Ray said, "fuck it." He moved closer, flush against Fraser's back, allowing his hand to once again roam under the shirt he wore.

Fraser turned to Ray, his hand finding the back of Ray's head to pull him forward for the kiss of starving men. Ray opened his mouth to breathe Fraser in, his taste, his teeth, everything that he'd missed in the years they'd been apart. His tongue hadn't forgotten the way the roof of Fraser's mouth felt, or the hardness of his teeth, the way his tongue was sucked deeply into the other man's mouth. All good.

Pressing against Fraser's hip, he didn't quite mash his dick into Fraser's. But close. The friction inside his tighty whities was a sweet torment. You only got this kind of stimulation rubbing against another live body. Mattresses were okay, but not even a close second to the radiating heat and pliability of a hot lover.

And Benton Fraser was a hot lover. He always went at it, and Ray, like it would be the last time he ever had sex anywhere. Funny thing was, maybe it was. Fraser could, and would, withdraw at anytime. Turn it off like it never started. Like it didn't affect him.

But now, Fraser was smokin'. Sure hands were sliding Ray's Fruit of the Looms right off his ass. Ray was rolling the A-shirt up over the flat stomach and oh, so nice pecs. He couldn't stop his tongue from licking the closest nipple. Fraser hissed - so, he must have liked it, arching into Ray's mouth.

Ray didn't have much time to savor his moment of triumph because a firm hand engulfed his swollen dick, taking his breath away. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Pumping into Fraser's hand, the calluses rubbed his hot skin. "Feels so good." So did the fingers working their way into the crack in his backside. He felt like he won the jackpot, front and back, as the tip of Fraser's finger brushed where Ray wanted him to be. A shudder skidded out of him and into the skin below Fraser's ear causing Fraser to arch into Ray. Hands everywhere, Ray wasn't about to miss an inch of hard muscled back and butt. He found his way up the leg of the not-so-starched boxers to grasp Fraser. Rearing back at the contact, Fraser brought the two colliding together.

"God," Fraser breathed between biting kisses. Ray's face was going to look like it had a bunch of mosquito bites, he was sure.

Yeah, Ray thought, God. He unbuttoned the top of Fraser's boxers, wrestling the hot flesh out into his palm. With the two hard cocks finally touching, he let out a huge, stormy sigh. Fumbling for a moment, he lined both of them up to begin to stroke. Fraser was liking it. Loving it, if the noise were any indication. Ray knew the man hated to relinquish control, so he must be wanting this, needing this as much as or more than Ray to be making all the noise he was. Especially, when he was letting Ray drive the bus.

Collaring both glans in the web between his thumb and forefinger, he began to twist like he was unscrewing a jar - or screwing a jar. Like semetics mattered; it felt good and he was doing it. "Oh, dear," Fraser said, rearing back, pushing forward, coming like a geyser all over the two of them. The feel and smell of his come did something to Ray, that and he hadn't messed around with anyone since he left Fraser up north, was all she wrote: Ray followed Fraser to happy land.

It was never was easy for Ray to resurface after that kind of full body contact. He knew Fraser was pulling away, leaving the bed. All he could do was flop back and try to get his breath back. Couldn't even ask the guy where he was going. The answer was in the form of a warm wash cloth gently applied to his groin, stomach and hand. He could wriggle enough for Fraser to pull his underpants over his ass. That was about it.

Fraser came back to bed after pitching the wash cloth back into the bathroom and pulled the covers over both of them. "Thank you, Ray," he murmured as Ray was pulled into his arms to nestle against his back.

That was Fraser all over. Thanking him for getting off. "Freak," Ray said, easing back into the warmth he'd missed forever.

"There better be a good reason you're late," Frannie said, malice in her voice. There was pandemonium all around her. Ray didn't feel one bit of remorse as he and Fraser walked into the din.

Ray smirked at her big white tee shirt depicting a Christmas tree complete with tiny, shiny balls hanging from all the branches. Not a good look for a woman currently the size of a Christmas tree. "Nice shirt," he murmured, kissing her cheek.

"Just wait until you see what they picked out for you, bro."

Rolling his eyes, he figured it was something wacky that preschoolers would like. He was currently wearing their last gift, a Cubbie sweatshirt that was way too big for him. He'd offered it to Frannie when she told him she was pregnant again. She gave him that long I'm-planning-a-slow-death-for-you look.

Just then Anastasia trundled up to him and Benton, dragging a bulging stocking. Her face was covered with chocolate, nose to chin. Bending to pick her up, Ray said, "Who said you could have chocolate before breakfast?"

"Rules different Christmas, Ray," she said with confidence as his words came back to haunt him.

He looked at Frannie to get 'the eye' again. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Anastasia grew quiet, her little face all scrunched up. Ray looked down. "What's up?" he asked.

She leaned up close to his ear. "Who's the man?" she whispered.

"Oh, this is my old buddy, Fraser. He came for Christmas." Anastasia continued to study Fraser, not quite sure what to make of the stranger smiling at her. "He's from the North Pole," he added. The little girl blinked and blinked again.

"Wow," she said, squirming out of Ray's arms. "Come and see what Santa brought me." Now Fraser was in for it.

"So," Frannie said, looking at him sideways, "did you sleep at all last night?"

Ray was watching Anastasia explain the intricacies of her Barbie cell phone to Fraser, holding it up to Fraser's ear as Barbie planned for them to go shopping. "Yeah, why?"

Frannie said nothing, so Ray had to turn to see her raised brow. Oh. Duh. The sucker bites. It was all he could do not to pull the collar of his sweatshirt up. "Yeah, we slept," he reiterated. After they blew off the steam, they were out for the count.

"I bet," Frannie smirked. "So, why's he here?"

Scratching his ear, Ray said, "Dunno."

Frannie turned on him, arms crossed over her 'shelf'. "How long is he staying?"

Ray winced at her tone. "Dunno." Her eyebrow was up. Uh oh. She gave him a long, hard look, spun on her heels and marched over to Fraser. Rather than watch her work the guy over, he went in search of coffee.

"Merry Christmas, Ray," Ma Vecchio sang out to him, hugging him as she bestowed a kiss on each cheek. "Get coffee and watch the waffle iron."

Waffles. Mmmmm. He would have to concentrate on the waffles and not worry about what the heck Frannie was talking to Fraser about, which was probably a good idea. Bacon and sausage were sizzling; the coffee was hot and sweet. Ma Vecchio knew his tastes real well. He was filling a plate with waffles, setting it in the oven to stay warm before pouring more waffle juice on the iron. He was working on another iron full when Ma called everyone to the dining room table. Screaming kids, milling adults, they all converged around the big table.

Fraser stood back as everyone ran for a place at the table. Ray watched him from behind the chair of his choice. There was a place open beside him, but he just waited on Fraser, who wasn't looking at him. Like he'd turn into a pillar of salt if he did. "Sit by me, Benito," Ma said, taking the choice from Fraser. Frannie was wrestling Johnny into a high chair and pushing it beside Ray's chair. Guess Ray was volunteered to wrangle a kid.

As the huge amount of food was passed and the huge amount of noise continued, Ray knew he wanted to be anywhere, but in the Vecchio's dining room. He cut up a sausage and waffles, drizzling a little syrup over them. Knowing Johnny, that little bit of syrup would cover every exposed inch of skin and hair before breakfast was over.

His own plate was heaping with eggs, bacon and waffles, but none of it looked good to him. He smiled across the table at Frannie when she gave him an inquiring look, and cut a waffle with a fork in a show of enthusiasm. It tasted like straw.

Ray let the sound go away and just concentrated on eating. It was no use. After a few bites, he pushed the plate aside, picking up his coffee cup. He tapped his fingers on the table wanting a cigarette. Bad. Johnny wanted his milk, so Ray could turn his attention to the kid. He fed him some of his eggs until the kid was stuffed. Leaving the table, he got a wash rag from the kitchen. De-sticking wasn't easy, but he didn't have to concentrate on nothing but the syrup clinging to chubby baby skin. The hair he'd leave for his mother.

Plucking Johnny from his high chair, he looked for Freddy and Anastasia. Both were still eating. Shrugging, he took Johnny into the living room. Not quiet there, the kid's table was full of kids that could feed themselves and a couple sullen teenagers; Ray kept moving. The side porch was empty. Converted years ago into an extra room, it was full of old sofas and kid's toys. He and Johnny sat down with an electronic ABC toy, away from all the noise that was getting to be too much for Ray.

Away from Fraser. Seeing him, holding him. It was better than most of his life had been for a while, but there were too many questions, questions that weren't getting answered. That was leading to more questions. Vicious, vicious cycle.

So, he had to get away. Take a kid and hide away from the happy Christmas celebration. His Christmas celebration. Fraser was the interloper here, taking away the little bit of family that Ray had carved out for himself.

Way to go, Ray. Feel sorry for yourself. Shit, what a loser. He looked down at Johnny sniggled firmly in his arms, apparently quite happy to fall asleep holding onto his toy. His sweatshirt was going to be as sticky as the kid's head. But, that was okay. Here, with a boy nestled safely in his arms, Ray could feel a moment's peace.

He raised his head when he heard someone enter the room. Of course, it was Fraser, and Ray'd had enough. "We're going home...now." The guy opened his mouth, but Ray stared him down. He was in no mood for an argument.

"Understood," he said and went in search of their coats.

Carefully cushioning the sleeping child, Ray moved back into the living room. Frannie was already there giving him the concerned look. He rolled his eyes right at hers. "You have enough to worry about, Frannie. Take me off the list."

"I will if you stop worrying about me." The brow went up because she knew she had him. Smug little thing. "Go home and talk to him."

Ray ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I tried last night, but got nothing..."

"But sucker bites. Sit at the kitchen table and talk this out, damn it." She stepped closer to put a soft kiss on his cheek. "I hate seeing you so torn up again, and if you don't get answers, call me - I'll get them out of him."

Ray acknowledged that with a smirk. Of course, she would. She'd reduce Fraser to a quivering mass of Jell-o. He might just ask her to do it if Fraser didn't come through.

Fraser stood by the door, hat in hand, waiting. Ray dragged his coat on as he headed out into the cold morning air. He patted his pockets for cigarettes that hadn't been there in years. What was it about Fraser that made him revert back to old, bad, destructive habits?

He climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep after letting Dief up and in. Allowing Fraser to drive wasn't so hard on his nerves on Christmas since there was so little traffic. He wasn't holding anybody up going the speed limit because no one was on the road. The one day in the year that everybody stayed home.

"Ray," Fraser began not far from the Vecchio's, but Ray's hand went up. "Save it for my house," he said and silence once again came down.

This'd all be so much easier if Ray could read Fraser's mind. He'd know why he was here, putting a big, fat hole of hurt in his Christmas. Closing his eyes, he let his lips curl upwards when Dief whined. "I know just what you mean, buddy."

Once home, Ray let himself in the house while Fraser let Dief do his business. He hauled the coffee maker out of the cupboard and rinsed it out. He hadn't gone to the effort to brew coffee everyday once his mum and dad headed southwest. Put it away after he'd forgotten to empty the grounds for a few days. Instant was good enough, and there was a Dunkin' Donuts on the way to work.

In the freezer was some Sumatran coffee he saved for special occasions. He didn't have many special occasions, but this one seemed close. Fraser was back in; Dief was sitting at Ray's feet.

"Still don't have nothing for you, dog," he said, but Dief stayed where he was. Ray shrugged, putting the lid on the percolator and plugging it in. Moving to the breakfast nook, he took his jacket off and slung it over the back of the chair before sitting down. He looked pointedly at Fraser, who did the same thing.

Now they were sitting in a face off. Ray staring hard, Fraser meeting his stare, until his eyes moved to study the table top.

"Why are you here?" Ray asked again. Fraser wasn't making eye contact, that was the coward's way out and just didn't fit what he knew about his old partner.

"To see you."

Yeah, he figured that out. "Uh huh. Why do you need to see me so bad now?"

"I've needed to see you for a long time." Then why was he still staring at the table top.

Ray's fist came down on the Formica hard, startling Fraser, who once again looked at him.

"Cut the shit, will you, Fraser?" Ray was now seriously at the edge. "You're talking in fucking riddles. What gives?"

Fraser's tongue pushed his bottom lip, eyeing Ray with something like fear. That made Ray scared. He got up and poured coffee. It was something to keep him busy while Fraser wasn't answering him, while Fraser was getting ready to drop some kind of bomb. Or not drop a bomb. Who the hell knew with Fraser?

"I met a woman."

The mug hit the counter with a thump, coffee everywhere. A bullet to the heart wouldn't have been more effective, Ray thought as he hunched over the counter. It felt like it, anyway.

"Ray?" He heard Fraser move, but stayed where he was.

"So, you met a woman," Ray said, not wanting Fraser to say more, even though he had to listen to the answers. He mopped up the spill with a paper towel, letting the pain from the burn sink in. Kinda matched the burn in his soul.

Fraser grabbed his hand and pulled it under the cold water flow at the sink. Ray tried to pull away, but Fraser was insistent, determined to take some pain away from the burn. Finally, Ray just yanked the hand away. "Tell me about the woman."

The smile that lit Fraser's eyes twisted Ray's gut. "Kathleen DeBurdine. Lovely woman. We've had many long talks."

"Uh huh." Ray topped off his mug and poured a cup for Fraser.

"She's caused me to become deeply self-analytical."

Ray handed the mug to Fraser before sitting back down at the table to stare at its top. Fraser eased into his seat across from Ray. "Doesn't sound like anything new to me, Fraser," Ray muttered at the table top.

"No, Ray, I've never been self-analytical, just self-absorbed."

Blinking, Ray felt his jaw tighten. "True," was all he could think of to say.

"Ray, I'm terribly lonely without you."

Another gut punch. "It took you this long to figure it out?"

"I figured it out a long time ago."

"And, you waited 'til now to tell me because?"

"I'm a coward."

He looked so damned sincere about that. "Huh?"

"Kathleen pointed this out to me."

"A woman told you that you were lonely?" Where the hell was this going?

"She did."

"So, you came all this way to roll with me in my bed and tell me a woman told you that you were lonely." There was something cracked about that, even for Fraser. Ray rubbed the back of his head. "Why didn't you and the woman do something about the lonely?"

Fraser actually looked shocked at that, straightening to peer at Ray with something like horror on his face. "Kathleen is ninety years old, Ray. Any relationship that I would have with her would merely be friendship."

In that moment a huge burden was lifted from Ray, and his heart lightened. "Ninety? Okay. So, what's the deal, then?"

Fraser examined the table top again for sometime. Ray looked at the top of his head and resisted the urge to give it a thump. Fraser was frustrating on a good day. This hadn't been a good day so far.

Then he raised his head to look Ray in the eye, and for the first time, in, like, ever, Ray was seeing Fraser. Pain, hurt, want, love, fear - the whole shootin' match.

"I'm tired of just existing, Ray, I need to know you're in my life."

"What?" Ray couldn't help sounding pissed. He's always been in Fraser's life. Fraser just didn't seem to want him there.

Fraser reached for his hand. Ray thought a second about pulling away - he was getting hot under the collar; holding hands didn't seem like the thing to do. But he left Fraser grasp it, for a minute at least.

"Working is fine, but I feel as if there's nothing to work for. No one to share it with. No one I want to share it with. Kathleen says I'm rusting out because there's no one to take care of me. I need you to take care of me."

"You don't need anybody, Fraser. You told me to go home, that you were fine without me."

"I never said that." Fraser's thumb was rubbing the back of Ray's hand. It felt nice.

"Not with words - actions, buddy, your actions told me a lot."

Fraser smiled sadly. "All they said was that I'm not good with the words that tell how I truly feel."

Ray's mouth thinned. "Try some words then."

Fraser cracked his neck then cleared his throat. "I - I'm not good at words," he repeated, "or speaking of feelings." His smile was sad, "I'm not very good at having feelings. Of love. For someone else."

Ray knew all this. He tried to pull his hand from Fraser's grasp, but it wasn't going anywhere. He wanted to bare his teeth and growl, settling for curling his lip at Fraser.

It was do or die time. Fraser was pretty smart for the dumbest ass on earth, you could see him gearing up for something.

"I love you, Ray," he said quietly.

You know, on several levels Ray already got that, yet hearing the words? It was greatness. "You have a crappy way of showing it," was his answer.

"I do."

Huh. What do you say to that? Ray raised a brow and waited.

"I'd give anything to, to have a normal relationship."

"Then you should probably do it with someone besides me," Ray said. And believed it.

Fraser made an impatient movement with his free hand and nearly knocked over his coffee mug. He was genuinely agitated, so Ray chilled. "Tell me what kind of relationship you want."

A small, sad smile appeared again on Fraser's mouth. "What are my options?"

Moving his hand to lace his fingers with Fraser's, he took a deep breath. "There's a couple as I see them. One: I chuck it all in and move north with you. Two: You chuck it all in and move here to the south. Neither of them are too practical right now - this minute. Three: we take our vacations in each other's neighborhoods for a couple of years, save money so I can move north. That might be the best one."

Fraser's quiet, "Do you think we'll be able to wait that long?" made Ray smile.

He could see the questions in Fraser's eyes and sat back, breaking contact, to wait for them to be voiced. He took a sip of his coffee to hide his nerves.

"Why wouldn't I move south?" Fraser said at last.

Ray shrugged. "Because I want to live in the north. I didn't want to leave when you sent me back here. I like it up there."

That shut Fraser up for a minute. You could see the wheels turning in his head, like he was digesting something. Ray just waited. "It's quite possible that I have more leave accrued than you do."

"Entirely possible." Ray waited.

"I can stay until the second week in January at this juncture."

"Can you?" Still he waited.

"I certainly can, and I will."

"And you want to?"

That was really the question.

"I do."

What was with the 'I do'? Ray narrowed his eyes. "So, you're here for two weeks."

"I am." Fraser looked at the table top again. "If you want me to stay."

Ray stood up and took their mugs to the sink. "We'll have to go for groceries tomorrow, and I have to go back to work the day after tomorrow."

He nearly jumped when Fraser joined him at the sink, his hips touching Ray's. "I don't want to be any trouble."

"No more than you ever are," Ray said, bumping Fraser's hips good naturedly.

Fraser grasped Ray's arm gently, but with enough pressure to cause Ray to look his way. "Is this something you want to do?"

"What? Plan our future together?" Ray got serious. "Shit, yeah. Wanted to do this for years, you freak. You just didn't let me."

"I understand, Ray." He was quiet again, but didn't let go of Ray's arm. "I want to apologize -" Ray didn't want any part of that, but Fraser's hold tightened. "I know that I hurt you, and, and-"

Ray's eyes closed. This was the heart of the matter, the root of his hurt and it cut deep. He'd close his ears against Fraser's voice if he could, but he couldn't. Fraser stopped struggling for words and silence reigned. Until Ray felt lips softly on his.

Fraser's gentle hands pulled Ray into his arms. Ray went willingly. To be held in strong arms, cared for, loved. It was all he ever wanted, yet something he never thought he'd get. Now he had it and he wasn't letting go. His arms went around Fraser to pull him close, enjoying the soft play of their mouths on each other.

"May we return to your bed?" Ray was finally getting that Fraser was always going to talk like a fat lady's novel.

"You want to?" he asked, seeing the answer in Fraser's eyes.

"Absolutely."

And that's how they ended up in bed by noon on Christmas day. Naked, sweating and thoroughly happy, Ray let his fingers run through Fraser's hair. The head of the one person he loved like no other rested on his chest. The weight of it felt good, right.

Fraser was sleeping. They'd exhausted each other, making love for a couple of hours before his now committed lover dropped off right there with his head on Ray's chest. There were very few times in his life that he felt this totally good. Like this was it. What he was waiting forever for. Waiting for forever.

Fraser was okay with the long distance thing, but not the maintaining distance thing. Fraser wanted a relationship, a real one with love and exchanging of letters and phone calls - and when they were together, exchanging spit and other bodily fluids.

Then, in a couple of years, less if Ray had his way, they'd be together for real. It wasn't going to be easy. Fraser was so buttoned up that unbuttoning might take the rest of their natural lives. But that was okay with Ray. Everyone needed a hobby, and the Mountie was his.

The phone rang. Ray barely had to move to pick it up.

"Yeah?"

"You kiss and make up?" Frannie's snide voice didn't even faze him in his post-orgasm euphoria.

"Something like that." Ray moved the phone to the other ear, not wanting to disturb the man sleeping on his chest. "Sorry to run out on you like that."

"No problem. I understand." He knew she did. "So, you talk?"

"We did."

"And it's good?" It was a perverse pleasure to make Frannie work like this.

"Better than good."

"You work everything out?"

"Not everything." He looked down at the man in his arms. "Just the important stuff. The rest'll come when it comes."

Yep, he was ready to turn philosopher.

"I hope so, Ray. You deserve the best." There was a pause from both of them. "I mean it, bro."

"I know you do, Frannie. And I appreciate it." He wasn't going to cry over sentimental crap, so he cleared his throat. "Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"Trying to get rid of me?"

"If only," he teased. "Okay, maybe," he amended.

"I get the message." She paused again. "I'm happy for you, Ray. You deserve it."

"Thanks, Frannie. Give my love to Ma."

"You got it." She hung up.

He thumbed off the phone and dropped it on the night stand. He could admit now that he loved her - like a sister. She was a good friend and he would always be glad they were thrust together because of her jerk wad brother.

Fraser pushed up from Ray's chest, his face all wrinkled from sleep, his hair wild. Good look, buddy. "Frannie?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Everything okay?"

Ray pulled him back down into his arms. "It's perfect."

"It is," came Fraser's muffled voice. "Is there something to eat?"

"I have a pizza and a bag of peas in the freezer."

"That will be fine."

Ray shook his head, but hugged Fraser tighter.

"Freak."

The end.

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End Only In My Dreams by BJCochran: bjcochran@epix.net

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