Disclaimer: If I owned them, there's no way I would keep quiet about it.

Story Notes: Written for both the DS_flashfiction Mute Fraser challenge, and A Picture is Worth 1000 Words, Part 3. (My picture was of 3 gas pumps in a row.)

They'd been on a stakeout for several hours, watching merchandise go in and out of the gas station's garage, and Ray was getting bored. Not to mention cold. The heat in the GTO was intermittent at best, but Ray's best idea on how he and Fraser could keep warm would probably be met with disagreement. "Not while we're working, Ray," Fraser would admonish him. They were working too damn much.

Apparently the mutt thought so too, whining and wiggling like a puppy, and finally barking loud enough to make their presence known. He's not a mutt, Ray, the Fraser in his head said. Ray silently apologized to the fur-face for calling him that - Fraser had them both well trained. "Quiet, Dieffenbacher!" He and Fraser said it at the same moment, and Ray saw his opening.

"Wish, touch something blue. Don't speak 'til you're spoken to," Ray practically chortled, and slapped a hand on his denim-clad leg. This was going to be so good. He'd explained the game to Fraser ages ago, how he'd played it with his family as a kid, and that it was probably a way for them to get him to shut up. He guessed Fraser had never had family quirks like that. "We often went days without speaking, Ray." Kind of depressing, when he thought about it. But this was going to be fun.

"Looks like it's going to be a quiet day today, doesn't it, Dief? No one to protest if I change to an all punk all the time radio station, or toss you a dozen jelly donuts." He did just that, switching the radio on to the loudest music he could find. Of course it was a moot point, since he couldn't actually turn the volume up very far for fear of being heard by the suspects.

"Ray, I--" Ray clapped a hand over Fraser's mouth before he could say more.

"No, Frase. The point of the game is, you don't get to say anything until I address you by name."

"Like you just did."

"Yes. No. I was just explaining the rules. Damn it." Ray sighed, exasperated.

"I'm sorry, Ray. Next time I shall endeavor to play properly." Fraser didn't sound especially contrite, Ray thought uncharitably.

"I should hope so."

"So the rules are, the person who is initiating the game says that phrase?"

"Wish, touch something blue?"

Fraser nodded. "Don't speak until you're spoken to."

"Yeah, that's part of it, but first -" This time, it was Fraser's hand covering Ray's mouth.

"I believe our friend should not be attempting to converse, should he, Dieffenbacher?"

Damn it, that wasn't Mountie-like behavior. Ray did the only thing he could do, under the circumstances. He licked Fraser's palm. Salty, but kind of bland. Just like Fraser was, on the surface. Underneath, though, Fraser was a veritable stew of flavors and textures.

Ray assumed that would be the end of the game, but Fraser didn't react like Ray expected. Instead of quickly removing his hand, Fraser just pulled back a little, tracing the seam of Ray's lips with one finger, and finally pressing it onto Ray's philtrim as if to say, "hush". Philtrim. Ray would never have known that word if Fraser hadn't explained it to him one night. Fraser was all about the words. When they'd both spoken at the same time, Ray thought, here was his chance. Just this once, let him be quiet.

It wasn't that Ray didn't like listening to Fraser talk. He did. Fraser's voice was warm and soothing, and just another thing Ray loved about him. But right now, Ray just wanted to watch Fraser. Touch him, maybe, and get close to him in all the ways words aren't needed. He really, really wanted the stake to be over. The car wasn't roomy enough for Ray to do what he wanted with Fraser. At least not without a hell of a lot of cramping.

As it turned out, there was no time for watching or playing. Their quarry was leaving, and he and Fraser had some arresting to do.

It was several weeks before it happened again, that intermeshing of conversations that had them saying the same thing at the same time. Sure, there were several times when Fraser had been necessarily silent, standing at attention outside the consulate, concentrating on defusing a bomb set inside an exhibit at The Museum of Science and Industry, or when he collapsed sated and exhausted against Ray's back.

But it was an innocuous night of pizza and hockey that gave Ray his next chance at the game. "Do you want the last piece?" He and Fraser asked together.

"Wish, touch something blue. Don't speak 'til you're spoken to!" Ray said, just ahead of Fraser. This time, he put his hand on Fraser's thigh. He'd changed from the serge into Ray's favorite pair of jeans. They were slightly faded and nicely frayed at the cuffs. Once upon a time he would have thrown them away due to wear. Now he knew to wear them to give Ray his due.

It took Ray a moment to realize that Fraser hadn't even tried to say the phrase before Ray had. He just smiled and relaxed, looking up at Ray expectantly from his seated position on the sofa. It was as if he was saying "Tease me all you want, Ray, but you're the one who's going to be discombobulated in the end. And I don't even need words to do that." Yes, even the Fraser in his head used language like that.

It would take some keen intelligence to plan his next moves. This time he wasn't going to blow it by saying Fraser's name too soon. That didn't mean he would ignore him.

Kissing him enough meant his lips would be occupied. And Ray knew that watching him with a hand on his own flesh would keep Fraser entranced into silence. Shutting Fraser up would be a treat for both of them.