Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas.

Author's Notes: Thanks to AKite and special thanks to Karen/s for a wonderful grammatical going over. Any mistakes are mine.

Story Notes: Spoilers for lots of eps - they really all run into the wonderful Ray/Fraser dynamic. Not sure when this takes place. Sometime after CotW.

Old Clothes April, 2005 By Bridget Cochran

(dS, F/K, adult content)

Ray liked his old, white tee shirts. Well, they used to be white, but now they were gray. And shrunk, getting little holes from runs from where his holster caught when he took it off at night. But, they were worn, broken in - comfortable. Ray liked that in his tee shirts.

The vest was the lining from an old down coat that he blew out too many times to fix with duct tape any more. Sometimes the zipper thing scratched him when he wasn't paying attention, but hey, it worked. Kept him warm in the drafty old 2-7.

He wasn't a satirical dynamo. He'd never be a Vecchio in the clothes horse category, but it's not like he didn't have his own happening style, his own down-and-dirty look. If it came by the pound from the Goodwill, it was on his closet floor.

Ray sighed and looked at the bottom of his coffee mug. He probably should wash it occasionally, but why bother? Why bother with new clothes? Why bother with any damn thing?

Fraser was here. In the building. Had been here for a couple of hours. He'd said, hello, Ray. Happy birthday, Francesca. Then disappeared down into the Lieu's office to confer with Dash Riprock. Okay, Rich Dirkson.

Acting Lieutenant Richard Dirkson. Filling in for Welch while he recovered from prostate surgery. That guy freaking sparkled in that preppy, shiny, hair-always-the-right-length-way. Ray never got that. His own hair was too long, too short, too red, too blond, too slimed with product.

Ray gave it up and tossed the mug, coffee and all, in the trash. Lieutenant 'Call me Rich' Dirkson didn't like Ray. Didn't so much as say it as didn't. It was the look. The Look. Down the nose, constantly measuring Ray and finding him wanting. Like if he looked like shit, he'd do his job like shit.

Not true. Ray did his job pretty good. Received citations. The good kind. Kept innocent people from getting the needle. Put scum away to stay, mostly. But this Dick Dickson. Ray couldn't please him.

Reports not on time. Reports sloppy. Reports not getting filed electronically. Police work was not all reports. Ray was jonsing for a cigarette. Even patted his pockets for his lighter. One he hadn't carried in years, the one stuck in a cubby in his roll top. He was sure in a mood though.

Looking over to the Lieu's glass walled office, he could see Fraser bending over the desk side-by-side with Rich. Red tunic, dark dress shirt. Both wearing dark pants. Both asses reminded him of bubble butts in the magazine stuck between his mattress and box spring. But neither one of them would ever be shaking in his direction on purpose.

"Shit," Ray said and turned back to his desk. Pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes, Ray let a breath out through his teeth. It sucked being Ray Kowalski sometimes. He was just a regular guy trying to slog a living in the rough and tumble world of the Chicago PD. Sometimes he had a partner, but these days, not so much.

Dick Dickson wanted Fraser to go over case files, review reports, lend expert tracking advice, excluding Ray every damn time. Sometimes even on his own fucking files.

He'd smile in his face and say some bullshit like, 'wouldn't want to take you from your work, Kowalski.' Bastard.

The worst part? Fraser didn't seem to see it. "He's a very thorough man, Ray." "His insights are excellent, Ray." "Wants all his ducks in a row, Ray."

Quack - fucking - quack.

But, Rich knew what he was doing. Fraser was Ray's partner. But, you see, Ray got it. Ray wasn't good enough to have a partner like Fraser. Fraser was pristine, a good officer - shiny like Dirkson. Ray got that. Ray didn't deserve something as good as Fraser in his life. Dirkson did.

"Ray. Ray. Ray."

Ray blinked and pulled his specs back onto his face before squinting up into Fraser's impatient face. "Yeah, Fraser?"

"Just wanted to tell you that Rich and I were leaving for lunch."

"Nah, sorry, Frase, don't have time for lunch today."

Ray sat back in his chair eyeing Fraser as the man cracked his neck, unable to make eye contact. "Sorry to hear that, Ray."

Really? Ray didn't say. Weren't even gonna invite me, were you? Lt. Dirkson's smirk said it all. Go blow, Ray. Someone, somewhere else.

Dirkson came out of his office, walking toward the door. "You coming, Constable?"

Although he looked uncomfortable under Ray's scrutiny, Fraser seemed to be wanting Ray to understand something. So, Ray went with a 'who-me?' look until Fraser was forced to leave.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<

Ray dropped Fraser off at the Consulate then headed home. He was a mess. Not, you know, clothes-wise, but inside. Jittery, jiving, like he was going to pop any second. His gray suit was in the closet, still in the dry cleaner bag. He'd had the shirt and tie cleaned, too. That Lady Shoe's gig had done a number on it.

So, it was that or his old Duran Duran wrinkled piece of crap sport coat. And, because he was going for broke, he wanted Fraser to know he could clean up if he wanted to, could look sharp enough to maybe be attractive. He could do that.

A shower was followed by a close shave and the moderate use of the Polo aftershave Stella had given him for his birthday. The next month she had left him. A light combo of mousse and hair gel made for a slightly soft version of his usual experimental hairdo, and after a bit of thought he added his silver watch-- the good one that he was always afraid of losing. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few moments longer wondering if he'd look good to Fraser. As good as Fraser looked to him. For a minute he narrowed his eyes on himself, wondering if he should get some new glasses. Those new rimless kind. That would be - stupid. Vain. Dumb.

For a minute he thought about taking the suit off and putting his khakis and Bull's tee shirt back on, but the idea of disappointing Fraser made him stop in his tracks. If the guy wanted to play dress up, Ray would play dress up.

He was brushing his teeth for the second time when the knock came to his door. After a quick spit and rinse, he shook himself, looking one more time in the mirror. Well, he was who he was, even if it was Cinderfella for a night.

Cinderfella tonight. And he'd be Jerry Lewis again in the morning. Jerking the door open he took a step back. Fraser had a blue suit on, one Ray'd never seen before. A shirt so white it made Ray blink, and a striped tie. He looked like an insurance agent, but, you know, an insurance agent he wanted to eat.

His hair shone with some kind of dressing, looking more like John F. Kennedy than Howdy Doody. His eyes gleamed, too, as he looked Ray up and down. "My goodness, you look marvelous, Ray."

Ray's smile was crooked. "Not as good as you do. Nice suit, Fraser."

"Thank you kindly, Ray." He paused a moment, a shy smile forming on his face. "These are for you." He held out a single yellow rose and a small gold box of Godiva chocolates. "I thought yellow would compliment your suit nicely.

Ray let him in and got the kitchen scissors.

"Allow me," Fraser said, and took over the job of cutting it, putting it through Ray's button hole and pinning it with a hat pin he pulled from the back of his own lapel. Proper preparation.

Fraser stood close, making sure the rose lay straight and didn't droop. Ray watched him work, so close to his face that he could open his mouth and touch the man's cheek with his tongue. The whole thought of it made the heat rise on Ray's face. Fraser must have noticed something because he turned an inquiring eye towards him, but Ray kept quiet - too early to ruin the night with wayward lust. Might ruin more than the night.

Fraser stepped back, his eyes still on the boutonniere. He blinked and looked at Ray. "Shall we go?"

"Am I driving?"

"No, Ray, I've rented a car for the evening."

Whoa. Wow. "Okay," he said, "let's get at 'er."

"Let's."

He rented a Crown Victoria. For a date. With Ray. A Crown Victoria. He could have rented an Escort. That would have been okay with Ray. He could have hired a cab. Hell, Ray could have driven.

After Fraser safely saw him into the passenger seat, he took off at a sedate speed.

The restaurant was nice. Dark, intimate. Fraser spoke Italian to the waiter while Ray looked around, hands in his pockets. There were glowing red candle holders flickering on tables covered in white linens. It'd been a while since he'd been somewhere so nice.

The cop in him made him check out the place. There were couples and families, foursomes, but no male only couples. Everybody was drinking wine, talking quietly, laughing loud - no one was paying attention to him and Fraser. So, he turned his attention to Fraser and the host guy.

"After you, Ray," he said when the host went off with menus tucked under his arm. The table was in a quiet corner, away from the larger part of the room. There were ferns and all kinds of big shrubs in pots, nice paintings on walls that looked like they were covered in a tapestry bedspread. Although not his personal style, Ray liked this restaurant. Classy, but not snotty.

They looked over the menu after giving the drink orders -- a bottle of mineral water for Fraser, a glass of Chianti for Ray. Ray looked over his menu at Fraser. "What you getting?"

"I'm considering the baked ziti with olives and anchovies."

It took all Ray had in him not to grimace at the anchovies. "Cool, I think I'm going with the three meat lasagna. Wanna see if it's as good as Ma Vecchio's."

"Sounds like an excellent choice, Ray. You'll have to share some with me."

"As long as you don't make me taste yours," he said with a laugh.

Fraser ordered for both of them. Ray might have been insulted except the guy did it in Italian, which was kind of cool - you know, having Fraser showing off for his benefit.

"I took the liberty of ordering us an antipasto," he said after the waiter left.

"Cool. One with hard salami."

"Yes, with Genoa salami."

"Nice." Ray broke off a crust of hard bread that was set on the table and dipped it into the bowl of olive oil. This was going to be the hardest thing to learn to like about this restaurant, but, hey, Ray would try anything once. More, if he liked it.

Which brought his mind back to Fraser. Looking across the table at his date, he found that he was being stared at. "You do look marvelous tonight, Ray."

"You said." Ray took a swallow of his wine to hide his nerves.

"I mean it."

Ray nodded. He knew that. Fraser didn't lie. Not outright. "Don't expect it to be an every day thing. I dress up when I need to, not because I like it. It's not me."

Fraser was quiet for a few minutes which unnerved Ray. "I feel honored that you would do it for me." The scrutiny and the flowery words made Ray even more uncomfortable. He wrapped a slice of salami and a slice of provolone around a sweet pepper and offered it to Fraser. He picked a hot pepper out to wrap up for himself.

"I don't get it, Fraser. What was the deal with Dirkson?"

Fraser frowned. "The deal?" Ray didn't believe he was that thick, so he just stayed quiet. "I'm not sure, Ray." Ray didn't believe that either and a brow went up. "I felt that there was no future with you," he finally said, so quiet Ray had to lean forward to catch it all.

"How'd you figure that?"

"I - I - we have always been comfortable with each other, even in our worst moments we've had a certain synchronicity." Fraser paused. This wasn't easy for him. Ray got that. "But, I felt that perhaps you tolerated me because of not wanting to be alone. That you would settle for my company rather than have no company."

Ray blinked and sat back. What the hell? Fraser was nuts to the squirrels. Nuts to the god damned squirrels. "Freak," he said his voice hard. He did not mean it in a good way.

The entrees arrived. Ray might be pissed off, but he wasn't letting the beef, veal and sausage lasagna go to waste. He chewed the delicious food like it was the enemy, washing it down with Chianti. Settle for his company.

Slicing off a portion of his lasagna, Ray lifted it gingerly over to Fraser's plate. He was mad at Fraser, sure. Why would he think so little of Ray? That Ray would hang out with him only because he was desperate for a friend. Sure Ray didn't have a lot of friends. Hell, he spent most of his detective years undercover - you don't make many friends undercover. But, why in the hell would Fraser think that was all he was good for? Dumb ass.

They ate in silence, each sort of enjoying their meal, but Ray knew that the conversation would start again over dessert.

Ray sat back, sighing as the tiramisu was set in the middle of the table and forks were placed in front of both of them. One big sloppy slice of the best dessert in the world shared with the most frustrating man in the world was somehow right. If Fraser wasn't such a bonehead, it would be nicer. Ray took a sip of his coffee.

"So, how come such a smart guy like you can be so stupid?" Fraser's head came up fast and he looked startled.

"I don't know what you mean, Ray."

"Bull shit," Ray said, quietly not wanting to disturb anyone in the restaurant. "Why you think I hang out with you out of pity? I ever do anything that made you think you were pitiful?"

"Not as such."

Ray jerked his head a minute. "Not as such? Talk sense."

"I understand that you might be lonely for company and would include me in dinner plans because it's not very enjoyable to eat alone."

"Which you know from experience."

Fraser grabbed a forkful of dessert. "Which I know from experience."

"Which means we have stuff in common."

"We do."

"You know, I coulda been spending time with Dewey. He's got nobody, too." Fraser's look of distaste appeared and disappeared pretty quick, but Ray went on, "But he's a dick wad. Don't want to spend one minute more with him than I want to spend with jock itch."

Ray put his fork down and leaned over the table. "The thing here, Fraser, is you. I want to spend time with you. When you threw me over for Dirkson. It hurt. Like a knife in my heart. And you didn't seem to get that."

"I did not," he admitted, and Ray felt himself tense up. "I merely thought of Lt. Dirkson as a way to give you relief." Ray's eyes narrowed again. He tried to keep the lip from curling, but he couldn't. Fraser was examining the table top. "I - I was flattered by the attention. It's not something that I feel comfortable with, but Rich - the lieutenant offered me an easy friendship. One like yours. But not. It was like I was a prize to him. Something for show."

"He didn't try anything hinky, did he?"

Fraser frowned and looked up at Ray. "You mean make a pass?"

"Yeah." Ray was getting mad again.

"Not that I'm aware of," Fraser said, but smiled. "As you know, I'm not always aware of such things."

That made Ray smile. Yeah, Fraser wasn't always aware of the effect he had on people. Sometimes he was, and just played dumb. But mostly not.

Fraser settled the bill with U.S. cash and they headed back to the car. Ray liked that Fraser's hand settled on the small of his back as they moved through the late summer night to the parking lot. He allowed Fraser to open the car door for him, allowed Fraser to place a small peck on his cheek. He felt his face heat up at the small intimacy. He really, really felt like he was on a first date.

They drove home in silence. A classical station played a soft symphony in the car. Ray eased back in the leather seats, letting the music drift over him.

He blinked awake. The car had stopped and they were in front of his apartment building. He poked a finger under his glasses to rub an eye. "Sorry, about that Fraser, old buddy. Guess all that food made me sleepy."

"No need to apologize, Ray." Fraser continued to look at him, making Ray a little nervous. He raised a brow. Fraser cleared his throat, nervous. "I was wondering, Ray, if perhaps, you would possibly...."

"Spit it out, Fraser."

Fraser reached inside his suit coat and pulled out a CD and handed it to Ray. The cellophane was still on it. "Isn't it Romantic; Dance Selections from the Heart".

"You wanna dance with me, Fraser?" Ray asked softly, not sure of what he was feeling. Fraser's face was cast in shadows from the lit dashboard, but his eyes held Ray still.

"If you'll allow it."

That sounded like much more than 'yes', maybe more than dancing. Ray narrowed his eyes on Fraser. The guy was nervous, but still maintained eye contact. But Ray could see sweat forming at his temples. He flipped the jewel case back and forth against his thigh wondering how deep he wanted to get and how fast.

The decision was made. "Let's do this, Fraser." Maybe he meant more than dancing, too.

The decision was made. "Let's do this, Fraser." He meant more than dance.

The apartment was lit by the light over the stove. Seemed right for the mood. The stereo was balanced to the first song on the CD. Ray read the liner notes, looking for the right song. "The Man I Love"? Too obvious. "Sentimental Reasons"? Nothing to be sentimental about yet. "The Way You Look Tonight." That's the ticket.

He keyed in the selection and paused it before turning to Fraser. They were home in his private apartment, so he took off his suit coat and laid it over the couch. Fraser followed his lead, placing his own coat on top of Ray's. Ray couldn't figure out if he looked better without the suit coat or the same kind of good.

"You really want this?" Ray had to ask. He moved to stand right in Fraser's space, but Fraser didn't back away.

Standing fast, Fraser nodded solemnly. "Yes." He hit the play button before he put his right hand in Fraser's left. His left hand settled at Fraser's waist, feeling the warmth seep through the dress shirt. But Fraser was so far away, like he was at a Catholic school dance and Sister Mary Mean would be separating them. Ray had news for him; Sister would have never let them get to this point. They kind of frowned on the boy-boy thing at high school dances. Ray applied the right amount of pressure and brought them together hip to hip. "Relax."

Took a minute before Fraser listened to him and eased closer in Ray's arms. Nice. Very, very nice. Fraser smelled good, all Ivory soap clean. And whatever he had in his hair. It smelled good, too. He let his nose rest behind the other man's ear, just breathing in - not wanting to breathe out. They moved slowly, a rhythmic shuffling of feet. Nice.

They danced through three more tracks before Fraser sighed. After another, he sighed again. "What?" Ray asked, pushing his partner's shoulder to separate them a little bit.

Fraser looked at him for a moment then closed his eyes. "May I kiss you?"

Ray's heart stopped, he was sure of it. He swallowed, and opened his mouth to speak. Then he swallowed again, like something big and good was caught in his throat. Fraser opened his eyes, and Ray was ashamed at the fear he saw in them. But he still couldn't make words, so he nodded once.

Slowly and with great care, Fraser moved into Ray's arms. A hand came to the back of Ray's head as Fraser angled his way to Ray's mouth. Fraser smelled like garlic and cheese and Italian spices. His lips were slightly parted and Ray opened his mouth, too. His lips were firm and pliant on Ray's, exploring but not overpowering.

Savoring the flavor, the promise, the expectations, the want that made you want it to last forever. Ray knew that forever was kind of a dream, yet he couldn't help but dream. Fraser was finally in his arms, and in his mouth. This was the way it should be.

He maneuvered Fraser, moving them toward the bedroom, breaking the kiss with a whole lot of reluctance. "You really want to do this?"

"Very much," Fraser said. His flushed skin showed his arousal and Ray was going to have to be careful or Fraser was going to hyperventilate.

"Then we better get these suit pants off. I don't want to explain any stains to any dry cleaners," he said, turning Fraser toward the bedroom. Fraser already had his belt buckle undone and zipper down by the time they arrived at the side of Ray's bed. He turned around and started working at Ray's belt. And Ray let him, watching his partner's face as he concentrated on unhooking the top of Ray's trousers.

Fraser bit his lip as he pulled the zipper down slowly. Then his tongue came out as he peeled the pants over his hips, taking his under shorts with it. Then Fraser looked up at Ray, flushed, panting and with a look so full of desire that Ray's lungs gave out.

Then it started again and Ray was in motion. Their suit pants might not have embarrassing stains, but they would be wrinkled as they both landed on the floor at their feet. Shoes, shirts, under shirts all followed, leaving them naked. Fraser turned Ray to push him backwards onto the bed, letting himself fall on top. Ray opened his legs to allow room for Fraser. His dick and balls were buffeted by Fraser's and it felt hotter than hot. All skin and hairy balls and hot.

Looking at him a long moment, Fraser then lowered his lips to Ray's. The promise he gave with his mouth was amazing. Ray wanted to grab him and roll him over, but he remembered that Fraser was driving this and he'd take the ride wherever it went.

Fraser's mouth was soft, but insistent. He left no doubt that kissing was just the beginning. His mouth traveled to Ray's chin, his neck, his Adam's apple, his collar bone. Ray knew where this was heading, and was really, really cool about it. Or hot about it. Forget it - he just wanted it.

The touch of Fraser's tongue on the tip of his dick nearly levitated him off the bed. It was the sure swipe of a cat lapping at cream. The pre-come was licked off before his glans was pummeled by a relentless set of lips squeezing the tip of his dick. "Christ," came out as half sigh, half prayer.

Softness gave way to a mouth like a Hoover. Fraser engulfed him until Ray's dick bounced off his tonsils. Ray never felt anything like it. Breathing in gasps now, he felt himself graying out. No way he was going to pass out before he came. No way.

"Fraser, back off," he wheezed. "I mean it, back off." Fraser stilled before backing his mouth off Ray's meat. The scared look on the guy's face made Ray want to scream. "You do that too good, buddy. You gotta let me get used to your jaws." Ray's shoulders relaxed into the bed as his hand came up to join Fraser's at the root of his dick. "That was the most amazing thing I ever felt."

"But I wasn't done, Ray."

"Oh, hell, no, you're not done. But I'm going to black out if we don't slow down." Ray grasped Fraser's wrist and pulled it up toward him. Fraser followed until he was laid flush against Ray, his erection nudging Ray's hip.

Gripping Fraser's neck, Ray brought his lips up to taste, slowly, sweetly taste. With all gut twisting honesty, Ray never thought he'd ever be tasting this, having this here with Fraser, in his bed. This was the brass ring.

He let his lips pull at Fraser's, letting Fraser move into position above him. "Do you want this, Ray? With me," Fraser asked after a few moments of heavy, heavy petting. Ray's cock was pushing against Fraser's and it felt so damn good. He was twitching again and ready for more.

"Oh, I want it, all right, Fraser. Big time." He emphasized his words with a little shimmy. Fraser's forehead came down onto his shoulder, aligning their faces. This time Ray gave into the temptation and licked, flat tongued, like a cat. He felt no stubble there, Fraser had shaved late, too, but he tasted heaven. He was totally wrapped up in the man he loved and wanted and needed. His smell, his taste, the way his weight felt on top of him.

Fraser was moving now, sliding his cock against Ray's overheated skin. God, it was amazing. Ray rose to meet the thrusts, timing his thrusts with Fraser's. This was the goodest of the good. Better than the best. The slickness of sweat and the slight drag of pre-cum.

His breath was raggedy, but he wasn't going to pass out. The rhythm built, he could hear his blood in his ears, Fraser's breath, too. His heart was a bass drum, noisy in his chest. He moaned with every exhale as the tempo increased. Fraser's hands clutched either side of his head, fingers not quite gripping his hair. This was amazing, holy - Ray arched when he couldn't hold back any longer, shooting all over Fraser's abdomen.

Must have been the heat, or the wet, or just that Ray came because Fraser was off like a geyser not a minute later. It took all the energy that Ray had left to meet Fraser's thrusts before he was crushed under his lover's weight.

Laying splayed under Fraser, he wasn't able to give words to how he felt. Spent, sure. Ready for more? Not quite yet. This was the after glow. With one hundred and eighty (or more) pounds of dead weight Mountie lying on top of him, he'd need to breathe soon. But right now, he just wanted to be surrounded by Mountie.

Too soon, Fraser stirred. He raised himself up on one elbow to wipe sweat from his eyes. Then his lips nestled at Ray's ear. "I don't want this moment to end, but I believe we need to clean off this - what's - what's between us." Then the tongue touched his ear lobe.

Ray blinked at the ceiling and swallowed. What's between us? Oh. The gunk. "Yeah, I guess we do." He tried to move out from under Fraser.

"No, Ray. Please stay here." Ray raised himself onto his elbows to watch Fraser disappear into the bathroom. He returned, his own belly clean, to gently clean the evidence of the deed from Ray's gut. The warm wash cloth tickled and Ray's sloppy abs jumped a little. A small smile formed on Fraser's lips.

"Something funny?" Ray asked, trying to divert his attention from how good it felt to be cleaned up by Fraser and how it was making his old dick sit up and take notice.

"Not funny at all."

Freak. "Then what?"

Fraser didn't answer, just took the wash cloth back to the bathroom. He still had the smile on his face when he returned to bed. The light was off and the covers were pulled up before Ray said, again, "Then what are you smiling at?" They lay, side-by-side, staring at the ceiling for a few moments.

"Life."

"Life?" Yep, freak.

Fraser turned toward Ray and pulled him closer. Ray let himself be pulled. It felt good to be the cuddlee, instead of the cuddler.

"Ray, you've made me very happy tonight."

Ray shrugged that one away. "Back atcha, Fraser."

"I'm, sor-"

It took all Ray had in him not to pinch the forearm laid across his middle. "Don't say it, Fraser."

"I must, Ray."

"Go ahead then, Fraser. Get it over with."

"I'm sorry I caused you such pain. I was selfish and inconsiderate."

"You were," Ray admitted. The hurt was still there. Would probably be for a while, but being in Fraser's arms went a long way to healing that wound.

"I was short-sighted, rude and not at all a gentleman."

Now Ray smiled and eased back into the warmth. "You were."

Fraser moved his face in close to Ray's. "Can you forgive me?"

Ray paused. For effect. To make Fraser squirm. To keep him on the hook. "Yeah," he said, finally. "I forgive you."

Fraser relaxed, which Ray felt and eased back some more. Fraser was nuzzling and petting and Ray needed a breather. Grabbing the big hand heading towards his belly button, he stilled it. "Let's just savor the moment, Fraser."

"As you wish," Fraser murmured.

This was good. This was the best. This was closer to perfection than Ray had ever hoped to experience. Christ, he never expected this when he woke up this morning.

Abruptly, he rolled over. "Okay. That's enough savoring for now," he said and brought his mouth up to Fraser's. With any luck they'd have more savoring to do in about thirty minutes.

The end.

Like it? Hate it? Tell me at bjcochran@epix.net