Disclaimer: Only the ideas are mine.

Author's Notes: I'm reposting this story because a lot of it didn't get posted when I placed it in the archive orginally. Thanks to AKite for noticing it.

Story Notes: Many spoilers for the RayK episodes. Don't actually know when it occurs in the series.

Old Clothes c 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 finished every single past due report. Dot it, file it, put it in an email folder marked done. He left the precinct, ran down a couple of snitches, which proved useless to anything he was working on, then picked up groceries and beer.

Hockey on TV was just not the same without Fraser. His music all sounded flat. Even the freaking beer tasted flat. He roamed around his apartment like a caged cat, too much energy with no where to go.

He thought about hitting a dance club, but the mood he was in now he'd drink too much, dance too much and end up in a dark alley with an uncovered dick up his ass.

So he cleaned the kitchen. Hockey night in Ray's universe and he was cleaning with no one to hang with but his own bad, boring self. He scrubbed the oven and fridge and sink within an inch of its life. His hands were red, his eyes blood shot when he was done, but he didn't feel any better. He went to bed.

*-*

Fraser didn't even like baseball. Sure, he understood the fundamentals, but like it? Nah. He was a hockey man, pure, but never simple. But here he was standing in front of his desk, skin all pink from sitting in a box at Wrigley. A box. Ray, in all the years the Cubbies broke his heart, was never closer than general admission.

Seems Dirkson's family had a box at the ball park. Had one for years. Big connections. Whatever. Ray couldn't help staring at Fraser though. He had a short sleeve tee shirt on, a little baggy but nice. His arms showed the sun, so did the bridge of his nose. The ball cap he wore was pushed back on his head revealing sweat glistening on his forehead. Sweat. He smelled like good, clean sweat. Not the grimy kind from not washing and being a pig, but the honest kind. The smell that came from being in the sunshine.

"It was wonderful, Ray. A perfect day for being outside." Fraser was gushing.

"Glad to hear it, Fraser," Ray said. It was hard not to set his jaw, to show his irritation. Ray had been stuck in an interrogation room trying to get something out of nothing. Then the lawyer showed and nothing got to be less.

"Really, Ray, you should take some time to enjoy the fine weather. Before you know it, it will be - "

"There you are, Fraser," Dirkson interrupted, not even looking at Ray. "Wanted to remind you about the regatta this weekend."

Ray could feel his blood pressure rise as Fraser turned to Dirkson, a small smile appearing on his face. "Certainly, Rich, I'm looking forward to it."

Ray just walked away. He wasn't in this conversation, much like he wasn't in all the ones before it. There were files he had to return to records and forms he had to pick up at supplies. That would be more exciting than watching Fraser and Dick make weekend plans.

Plans that would never include Ray.

*-*

Fraser was looking down and frowning at something on Ray's desk when Ray came back up from booking a purse snatcher. Ray hadn't seen him in a week, which was about par anymore.

"What's up, Fraser?" He asked. He probably would have ignored him if he was any place other than his desk. Slipping around Fraser, he slid into his chair.

"I'm waiting to speak with Rich."

"Uh huh." Ray turned away to switch on his computer. Might as well start the report, that way he didn't have to deal with 'Rich'.

Fraser apparently wasn't going anywhere. After a minute Ray looked up. "You want something, Frase?"

The frown mark deepened. "That picture."

Picture? Ray looked at the top his desk. Ah. It was a picture of Fraser taken at the regatta. All smiling and windswept on the deck of a sail boat. But Ray had altered the picture some.

Ray wondered why he didn't feel bad under Fraser's scrutiny because Fraser was giving him that confused, concerned look. The one that usually made him squirm. Nope. Not this time. He looked Fraser right in the eye.

"Rich has been cut from the picture."

"Uh huh." Ray leaned back in his chair and looked up at Fraser.

"Why would you do that?"

"I didn't want a picture of Lt. Dirkson."

Fraser was silent. Brooding, or something. "That's not very nice, Ray."

Ray's eyes narrowed as he looked at his friend. Was Fraser not getting something? This must be Ray's personal Twilight Zone. "It is what it is."

"What is it then?"

In a split second Ray thought about telling Fraser the truth: that he missed him, he wanted him back in some kind of friendship, that he wanted Dirkson gone. However, that would do absolutely nothing but make it even more awkward between the two of them. So, screw it. "I didn't want a picture of Lt. Dirkson."

Ray sat back up, pulling his chair back to the desk to begin his report. Fraser continued to stand beside him, silent. Ray didn't get it. What did Fraser want? What was the deal?

"I'm ready, Ben," Dirkson called from his office. Fraser didn't move immediately. He just knew that Fraser was rubbing his eye brow. He stood another silent moment. Ray felt it, but kept entering stuff into the computer, ignoring Fraser and the feeling that was growing in his gut.

Without another word, Fraser turned away from Ray. Sticking a toothpick in his mouth, he worried it while he finished the report.

In an hour his desk was clean and calls returned. He looked at the clock. "Frannie, I'm taking half a personal day. If you need me, leave a message on my home machine." He got up from his desk, picking up his keys and phone.

Frannie frowned up at him. "Half a personal day? Since when?"

"Since right now."

"Sure it's not a sick day?" He didn't want to see her concern, it's not like she was really his sister.

"Frannie." It was a warning.

"Don't get you shirts in a twist," Frannie said, "It's just a little odd for you to take time off. During the week. Without Fraser." It was obvious she was confused. Take a number, sister.

"Guess you'll just have to get used to it, then." Even though it was going to be impossible for him to get used to it.

*-*

The sunshine was good. He should listen to Fraser more often.

Right.

Ray sat on the beach letting the wind pound over him. He'd cut off a pair of old chinos and sat on an old ratty blanket getting up enough nerve to go into the really, really cold water.

He laid back on the blanket his pillow his balled up tee shirt. The gritty sand between his toes was hot on the surface, cool and damp a few inches below. Nice. There were kids and mothers everywhere. Kites flying; Frisbees, too. All good.

Except no Fraser. Time to face the fact that Fraser wasn't in his life anymore. That he needed to find a new best friend. Christ, like that was easy. He only had two really, true best friends in his life: Stella and Fraser. He'd had buddies, drinking and fucking - but true, true friends. Just the two. Now they were both gone and he was alone again.

Standing up he looked at the lake water. July heat didn't have a whole lot of effect on the temperature of the water. Wading in, he felt his balls crawl back up inside. He stood ankle deep, then shin deep, wondering what he was doing standing in the lake they call Michigan. He'd been on top of it and under it, even driven into it. Now he was standing in it, shivering without the one person he associated with it. His nipples contracted and goose bumps pebbled his flesh. He went in a little further, now up to his waist. Dipping down, he swam in the cold, nearly still lake water. He swam. Because Fraser had been his friend.

*-*

Squinting at the wolf at his door, Ray looked up and saw Fraser standing beside the door, asleep. It was late; Ray had stayed at the beach until six, eating hot dogs from a stand. Having a custard. Just enjoying the day off. He stopped for a beer and nachos at the Metro. He liked the Metro; it was full of sexually ambiguous people like himself. He'd been stopping there more and more lately. Not to hook up, just to be with like-minded people.

Right. He didn't want to hook up. All he wanted was right here propped against the wall, asleep.

"Hey, Dief, long time, no see," he said reaching into his pockets for his keys.

The mutt nodded and tossed his head. "Yeah, been busy, too."

"Ray?"

The key was turning in the dead bolt. "Yep, Fraser. What can I do for you?" He walked into the apartment, leaving the door ajar.

"You weren't answering your cell phone this afternoon."

Ray was putting his wet cut offs on the top of his laundry basket. "Turned it off. Went to the beach."

When Fraser didn't say anything, Ray turned to look at him. "To the beach," Fraser finally said, like he was translating a foreign phrase.

"Yeah, the beach." Ray walked past him to get a beer. He didn't offer one to Fraser, he'd say no anyhow. He leaned against the counter and asked again, "So, what can I do for you?"

"I was able to secure a confession from Johnny Rosa. I thought you'd want to know."

Great. Fucking great. "Good for you, Fraser." He'd been working on Johnny Rosa for nearly a year and Fraser gets a confession from him. "Just like that, you walk into the 2 -7, Johnny Rosa takes one look at you and confesses? How's that work?" Ray was keeping his cool, keeping his hands on his beer bottle.

"Actually, Lt. Dirkson set up the interview yesterday."

"Yesterday. Since Rosa's my case, you'd think I might want to be there?"

Fraser frowned. "Which is why I cannot understand why you weren't present."

Ray closed his eyes and shook his head. His laugh sounded hollow. Fraser, the clueless. He couldn't be that damn dumb, could he? "I wasn't invited, Fraser." He looked at the man who had been his friend for a long, long moment. "Do you seriously think I would have taken the day off if I was needed for an interview?"

"No, Ray, I do not." Fraser was all stiff now, but God, he looked good.

Ray rubbed his eyes with his thumbs. "Then, I guess we have nothing to talk about."

"Why would Lt. Dirkson not tell you about Rosa's interview?"

Fraser just go home. "I don't know, Fraser. Why don't you ask him?" You think maybe he doesn't like me?

"I'm asking you, Ray." Uh huh.

"Well, I have no idea." Ray moved from out of the kitchen toward the couch and the remote. He settled, clicking on the TV while Fraser just stood silently by.

"Is there something wrong, Ray?" Fraser asked.

"Wrong how, Fraser?" Guess they were going to have this conversation. Ray continued to click through the stations.

"You seem distant."

Ray shook his head, a crooked smile touching his lips. "Do I?"

"Have I done something wrong, Ray?"

Ray took a deep breath, but didn't answer. He was too afraid of what he might say. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Fraser standing there, hat in hands, but Ray couldn't look up into his face.

Had he done something wrong? Maybe, maybe not. Ray took a deep breath.

"If you knew there was gonna be an interview with Johnny Rosa, don't you think you might want to come and discuss it with me, considering we'd been working on it for, oh, a year?" Ray tilted his head up to look pointedly at Fraser, like the question was a dare.

"Well, yes, under other circumstances," Fraser said.

"Other circumstances?"

"Rich had the file with him and we went over it."

"Uh huh. You don't find that the least bit unusual?"

"Why should it be?"

Ray felt his jaw begin to stiffen. Was he talking to the wall? "How many times has Lt. Welch taken the file from the covering detective and left that detective out of the deal? I mean, isn't it the covering detective's job, well, to cover it?"

"Rich is a hand's on - " but before Fraser could finish Ray said, "Bullshit."

"Ray?"

"How many of Huey and Dewey's cases get that kind of coverage?"

"I'm not privy - "

"Really, I bet you've been spending enough time with Dirkson to know whose cases he's looking at."

Bingo. A light goes off in that brainy head.

"So, what, am I gonna be demoted, my work not good enough?" Ray couldn't keep the belligerence from his voice.

"I have no way of knowing that, Ray."

"Really? Dirkson not tell you what he thinks of my work?"

"That wouldn't be ethical."

Ray wasn't sure when he'd gotten good at the raised brow thing, but he was giving it to Fraser. "And yet, you never thought it was odd that Dirkson was reviewing my stuff with you."

Now Fraser was getting nervous. "Actually, Ray, I had taken part in several of the investigations."

"Me, too, Fraser, but he didn't need my input, now, did he?" Fraser just looked at him, dumfounded and without words. "You're not getting this, are you, Fraser?"

"I'm afraid I might be, Ray."

Ray was tired of looking up at Fraser. "Sit down and tell me what you're getting."

Fraser didn't join him on the couch and Ray didn't miss the stiffness of the other man's back. "You don't like Lt. Dirkson."

Okay. "No, I don't like Lt. Dirkson."

Fraser sat there, as if the conversation was over. "I think that's because you don't know him."

"Fraser, buddy, I don't **want** to know him. Even more important-- He doesn't wanna know me."

Now leaning forward, Fraser was squinting into space. Ray had no idea what he was looking at. "Why would you say that, Ray?"

"Oh, I don't know, Fraser. Maybe when you and him went to lunch all those times without me. Like, oh, I don't know, how many people were in that box at Wrigley?"

Looking at him, Fraser said, "Only he and I."

"And how many seats were empty?"

"Six."

"So, there was room for me, if he'd wanted me to come?"

Fraser was silent.

"Yeah, I thought so." Ray was quiet for a few moments. "So, do you get this yet?"

"Yes, it seems I have been remiss in my friendship to you, and spending a disproportionate time with Lt. Dirkson."

Ray leaned back on the sofa. "Ya think?" he asked, tipping the beer up for a long, long drink. Somehow, getting Fraser to understand what was bugging him didn't feel as satisfying as it should.

"How can I make this up to you, Ray?" Fraser said, quietly after some time.

"Not sure you can, Frase." The beer was done so he rolled the bottle between his hands.

"Ray?"

"It's been a long couple of months getting this bad. Welch'll be back next week and I'm looking forward to getting back into the groove."

"Ray -"

"Fraser," Ray cut him off. "It's time for you to go. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you came over tonight, but - it's gonna take a while."

"Understood, Ray." They stood up together, Fraser offering his hand in friendship. Ray looked at it a minute, then took it. He wanted so much more than Fraser's hand to shake. A hug, he could use a hug. But, he wasn't going to give into the urge. He was weak now and being in Fraser's arms would dissolve him into blubber. Not a good thing when he was going for hurt hard ass.

*-*

Back to the way it should be. That's what Fraser must have wanted, but Ray wasn't so easy. Maybe he was acting like a kid, protracting out his hurt, but, fuck all, he couldn't help it. He was hurt.

Fraser was true to his word, showing up at the precinct to spend quality detecting time with Ray. They'd stop for lunch. He'd leave Diefenbaker with Ray when he'd have to return to the consulate. Making up, but without the sex. Yet, Ray still held him at arm's length. He still hurt and it was hard to let the defenses go, especially with Fraser. If he let the defenses go, who knows what might happen? He might let them go so far that he'd tell Fraser just what he thought of him.

And wrestled him to the floor to lick the snot out of him. Okay, not actual snot. Forget it. Letting down defenses would be no good.

Didn't help, that everywhere he went there was Frannie and Fraser with their heads together. Pissed him off that they pulled apart whenever he came near. Fraser was nice, but hanging around Frannie. Ray wasn't getting it.

"Constable Fraser," Dirkson said from his office.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Fraser said from his chair in front of Ray's desk.

"Wondering if you have a moment?"

Fraser was on his feet in a minute, smoothing down the front of his tunic. As an after thought he looked down at Ray. Ray just cocked his head and raised a brow.

"I'll - I'll," Fraser stammered before catching himself, his posture becoming rigid. "I'll just be a moment."

Ray just shrugged. We'll see, he thought. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was close to noon. Shutting off his computer monitor, he reached for his tan golf jacket and headed out the door.

He was nearly at Guido's for a hunk of pizza when he realized Dief was walking beside him. "You hungry, boy?" Crazy, talking to a deaf wolf about what's good pizza and what's not. He sat at a greasy little table by the greasy front window. Dief slid under the table while Ray ordered for both of them. Charlene was a good sort and put a pan of water down for the wolf when she brought Ray's pop.

"Where's Constable Fraser?" Char asked. They all asked. Where ever he went, everyone was looking for Fraser, like if he wasn't there a piece of Ray was missing. Which Ray understood. Understood pretty good.

"Back at the 2-7. Talking to Dirkson." Ray busied himself by blowing the paper off his straw before he looked up into Char's scowl. "What?"

"Don't really like that guy. Too shiny." She snapped her gum to emphasize her words.

Ray shrugged. It was nice that someone felt the same way he did, but he didn't want to start a bitch session in public. It was his dirty secret and he was going to keep it close to his chest. "Yeah, so I'm safe from him here."

"May I sit here, Ray?" Fraser found him after all. Ray hoped it had nothing to do with scenting him and Dief relieving himself on the fire hydrant at the corner. He nodded to the seat across the booth from him. Charlene took Fraser's order. She exchanged a look with Ray before moving off to get their lunch.

Ray watched Fraser's hands as he tore a paper napkin to shreds. Huh. Fraser was upset about something, but Ray wasn't ready to look into Fraser's face.

"You didn't wait for me, Ray."

No, he didn't. "Wasn't sure how long you would take. The wolf and me were hungry."

"Rich was just saying good-bye. The lieutenant's new assignment starts tomorrow."

"That's nice." Ray set his straw into his coke. It was all he could do to keep from hitting something.

"He just wanted to give me his cell phone number."

"That's nice."

"He was merely being polite, Ray."

"Uh huh."

There was silence again. If it kept up like this, Ray wouldn't have an appetite by the time the pizza got there.

The small mound of paper napkin was swept aside. Ray wanted a cigarette. "I don't know what you want me to say, Ray?" Fraser said, finally. Ray could tell Fraser was frustrated, but, what the hell, so was he.

He pushed back to sprawl in his chair, still jonsing for a cigarette, and maybe a shot of some strong liquor. Sucking it up, he looked Fraser in the eye. "What is there to say?" he asked after a while.

Fraser sighed and rubbed his brow. "I've upset you, I understand that. I became friends with someone you don't like." Fraser held up his hand to head off Ray's interruption. "All right, he doesn't like you, you didn't have any feelings, but I do understand that you have developed a dislike for him due to our friendship." Fraser put his hand up again, he knew Ray pretty well. "As well as his unprofessional treatment of your cases."

Ray subsided. That about covered it. The pizza slices arrived and they were quiet as Charlene refilled his Coke from a pitcher.

He worked his way through his slice, chewing carefully so he didn't choke on it. Clearing it all with a long draw on the pop, he burped under his breath. "Here's the thing, Fraser - the thing that you do not get. Yeah, Dirkson didn't like me, not very professional about it, neither. I got so I didn't like the way he treated me. I got so I didn't like the way he showered you with stuff - you know, time and stuff." Ray paused, wondering why he couldn't blurt it all out. He wadded his napkin up and threw it down on the table. "And you don't get that you somehow thought it was okay that he treat me bad."

"Ray - "

Of course, Fraser would object. He just didn't get it. "Fraser," Ray barked. But he didn't finish. What was the point? He stood up and threw a ten on the table. He'd settle up with Charlene tomorrow if it wasn't enough.

He was out the door and on the side walk with Dief hot on his heels. He needed a punching bag, he needed to kick some ass. ".Ray. RAY."

"What?" he growled and turned so fast the Mountie nearly ran him down. His eyes were narrowed, his lip curled, but Fraser didn't back down.

"Perhaps this isn't the best place to talk," Fraser said and Ray noted their audience of passers-by and shopkeepers.

"In here," he said and they ducked into a blind alley.

Ray hunched his shoulders, and kicked at a broken brick on the alley floor. "Here's the thing, in a nutshell, Fraser and we're never going to bring it up again. Deal?"

Ray looked him in the eye.

"Ray, I cannot promise-"

Ray moved in close, hoping he looked as menacing as he felt. "Deal?"

"Deal, Ray."

Nodding, Ray went back to kicking the brick, his eyes on the scuffed toe of his boot. "The thing is, you hurt me like when Stella left. Like I wasn't good enough no more, like I never was and this was the wake up call. So, I got pissed off. I'm still pissed off."

"But, Lt. Dirkson is leaving, Ray." Fraser's voice was quiet.

Ray shook his head. "Doesn't matter, Fraser. It's Dirkson this time, could be someone else the next time." Ray was choking up. In a minute he'd be bawling like a girl.

"What are you saying, Ray?"

What was he saying? He kicked the brick hard, almost taking Dief out like a duck at a shooting gallery. He looked at his feet, then at Fraser's boots, then up to his face.

"I'm saying, I, well, I love you, damn it." God, that was hard, but he wasn't backing down. It was why he hurt, why life sucked right now, why he couldn't get over something that felt like betrayal.

"Oh," Fraser said. It was his turn to look away. "Oh," he repeated.

Oh. Yeah. That just about covered it. Fine. And whatever. They covered it, too.

"Just so you know," he said, finally.

With nothing of a verbal nature coming from Fraser, Ray let his shoulders drop. Moving toward the street, he accepted that, for whatever reason, Dief would be dogging his heels. The mutt stuck to him like he was his last friend, leaving his real friend, Fraser behind. It didn't add up, but Ray didn't knock it - if the fur-faced wolf wanted to be his friend, he'd take what he could get.

It wasn't long before Fraser was in step beside him. "We won't speak of it again," Ray said - half question, half order.

"Ray-"

"Fraser." It was a warning.

The Mountie sighed then said, "As you wish."

After a moment he said, "We're heading away from the precinct."

"That we are, Benton, buddy." The cheer sounded so fake. "We're going to get Welsh some welcome home flowers."

That shut Fraser up. They walked the two blocks to Dingles. He had an account there since he was a beat cop. Old Mr. Dingle died a few years ago and his gay son, Clair (they didn't see that coming?) now ran the place.

"Ray Kowalski! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

"Ixnay on the Kowalski. I'm Ray Vecchio." He winked at the smaller man, whose hair was even a more lurid shade of yellow than his own.

"Vecchio, I dig Italians," Clair said and winked back.

"Great," Ray said, and didn't really mean it. "I need a little bouquet. Something butch for my boss. He's coming back after prostate surgery.

Ray had to smile when Clair shivered dramatically. "Go look in the fridge and see what you want. I'll keep Big Red here occupied."

Narrowing his eyes on Clair, he bit his tongue from saying something then remembered he'd never speak of it again. Big Red wasn't his, was a free man - Ray would just have to deal.

He looked over the arrangements and bouquets and wondered if he was being too much of a brown-noser giving the lieu flowers. But, what the hell, he was going to be pretty damn happy to see him after the ten weeks he just had. He picked out a nice little arrangement with yellow mums and white carnations. Leaving the cold of the windowed walk-in fridge, he watched Fraser lean down to listen to something Clair was saying. The little guy had a slim, girly hand on the front of the serge. Ray's jaw set.

This was never going to get better. Everyone wanted a piece of the Mountie. How could they not? And since the guy wasn't his, didn't make any like kind declarations in the alley, Fraser was still up for grabs.

Ray wished again for a cigarette.

"I'll take this one." Ray didn't care much that he was interrupting a private conversation.

Clair turned his smile to Ray. "Good choice. Do you want me to bill you?"

"Nah, I'll pay today."

The guy was always relieved to get money up front. Ray handed him his Visa. He leaned his hip on the counter and watched Fraser while Clair rang up the flowers. The guy stood with his hands behind him, holding his Stetson that tap, tap, tapped against the back of his legs. Looking normal, acting normal - within the Fraser Perimeters - not like Ray'd just spilled his emotional guts all over the pavement.

Looked like Ray was going to get drunk tonight, right after he left the flowers at the station.

They walked back in silence, Ray's hands full of tissue covered bouquet. Fraser was walking so close that their arms were nearly fused. Okay. He could do this.

Fraser held the door open for him at the 2 - 7. "Ray," he began. Why now, on the stairs heading to the squad room? "Would you kindly accompany me to dinner tonight?"

"Huh?"

"I'd like you to be my guest for dinner?"

Ray stopped in the middle of the stairs. "Huh?"

"I'm asking you on a - "

"date. Yeah, I get it, Fraser." Ray narrowed his eyes. "Wanna tell me why?"

Fraser met his stare without guile. "Perhaps we can discuss that over dinner."

Ray squinted at Fraser until Abramowitz yelled at them to get a room, and he pushed Fraser ahead of him up the stairs. "So, if I went with you to dinner, where would you take me?" They were heading toward the break room.

"I was thinking perhaps Bella Trattoria."

Okay, that opened Ray's eyes. He stood up straight. "With a necktie and all?"

Fraser cleared his throat, obviously a little hot under the collar. Uncomfortable. Huh. "If you wish. Whatever you wear there is fine."

Ray moved towards the bull pen and Welch's office. Bella's was a pricey place, he'd heard. He never went there, never had a reason. Mostly it was money, but it was also putting on the Ritz. He wasn't so much for putting on the dog for nobody.

He walked through the open door into the inner office and put the flowers down on the desk. All signs of Lt. Dirkson were gone and the shabby feeling was back in the drab room. Felt good.

Ray turned around to lean on the desk, folding his arms over his chest. They'd have a few minutes to talk without any of the idiots in the outer room nosing where they weren't wanted.

Ray studied his boots for a minute, then sucked his teeth. "So, this dinner," he said, finally, "at Bella's-- this is, what, a peace offering?"

Fraser's arms were folded across his chest, too, but more across his stomach. Like he was scared, nervous. Staring down at his own boots, Fraser didn't speak for a while. Ray was frowning now, waiting for an answer.

At last Fraser looked up at him. "I was hoping for a new beginning."

Ray swallowed as he looked into Fraser's eyes. These were the eyes of the man who was his partner, not the man who'd been forsaking him for a new kid in school. This was the man that followed and was followed by Ray into every situation sure of their trust like they were sure of nothing else.

But the depth of feeling Ray saw in Fraser's eyes was something that struck him speechless. Almost. "A new beginning?" he asked.

"Yes," he said simply.

Ray blew out a sigh. "So, a tie?"

"If you like, Ray. I only want you to feel comfortable."

Yeah, he believed Fraser about that. But no way was he gonna show up at some fancy restaurant looking like a scum bag. Not when Fraser would look like a million bucks. Canadian. But Fraser should look like a million bucks US.

"You gotta deal," Ray said, but interrupted Fraser's exclamation of excitement with a raised hand. "But I got a couple of conditions."

Fraser looked so hopeful that it kinda stunned Ray. Like Ray had some kind of power of life and death over him. Freak.

"Okay, your date, your show - I make no decisions." Ray knew he'd object to that one, so he gave the "I mean business" face. Fraser would want to defer to his companion - that was just the way the guy was. But Ray wasn't letting him off the hook here: Fraser had to be the one calling the shots, going out of his way to make this special for Ray. If Fraser wanted a new beginning, he was gonna have to throw the first pitch.

"Number two, you gotta wear a regular suit, not the pumpkin pants and shiny boots. And no Stetson. I want us to blend in, go incommunicado-"

"Incognito?"

"Yeah, incognito."

"I can arrange that," Fraser said, no looking at all sure that he could do that.

"Great. What time you picking me up?"

"Would seven this evening be acceptable?"

"Acceptable." Didn't want Fraser to be too sure of himself. This was a trial run. If Fraser was just trying to get off the hook, it would, well, lower him in Ray's esteem. Fraser was walking a really fine line.

>>><<<

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