Author's Notes: Many thanks to Rhyo and Brooklinegirl for the beta.

The GTO's tires screeched to a stop at the curb in front of the Consulate. Ray got out of the car and carefully, gently, closed the door. He was calm. He was so fucking calm that he refused to notice the light snow that was falling, even when it dripped down his collar, under his jacket. In his calmness, he walked to the door of the Consulate, and took a deep breath.

"Fraser, open up," Ray called, banging his fist against the dark wood door. He waited a minute. Nothing. Clenching his fingers into an even tighter fist he hit the door again. "Fraser, I know you're in there and I am not going away so you might as well open the door and lemme in."

Ray was pretty sure he was shouting now and made a concentrated effort to take a long, deep breath and not the freak the hell out. Goddamned Mountie was ignoring him. Well if that just didn't ice the fucking cake he didn't know what did. "Fraser, I am trying to be calm out here, I really am. But it's late and I'm tired and hungry and it's starting to fucking snow again, and if you don't open the goddamn door---"

And with that the door swung open wide, the dim light from inside the Consulate spilling out onto the stoop where Ray was standing. Fraser'd already gotten comfortable; the Mountie digs were gone and he was standing there in just that long sleeved henley and the pumpkin pants. And the suspenders. Christ, since when did he have a thing for suspenders? "Ah, Ray." Fraser smiled at him tightly, a thumb nervously tracing over his eyebrow. "Welcome to---"

"Yeah, save it, Frase." Ray pushed past him, striding down the hall toward the cramped box of a room Fraser called an office. No way was he having this conversation while freezing his ass off on Fraser's stoop. He pulled his jacket off and tossed it in the general direction of Fraser's chair. Fraser walked in just in time to watch the jacket slide slowly off the seat of the chair - the leather making a soft thud as it hit the floor in a heap.

Tsk-ing softly, Fraser walked over and picked the jacket up off the floor. "Really, Ray. You should take more care to be neat with your belongings." Fraser pulled a thick wooden hanger from the closet and hung Ray's jacket on it, making sure to zip the front and straighten the collar before hanging it inside the closet.

"Yeah. I'll stick it right up there on the top of my To-Do list."

With his jacket gone, Ray had nowhere to put his hands, so he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. Fraser had yet to turn around and look at him; in fact he was standing there, staring into his closet as if it held the answers to all the questions in the universe. Finally, with a quick shake of his head, Fraser took a step backward and slammed the door shut. "Right. Well. As I was saying, what brings you to Canada tonight, Ray?"

Ray watched Fraser's stiff back as he walked from the closet over to where his portable ironing board was set up. Jesus, it was bad. Fraser was ironing his Stetsons. (Shot of steam, press the brim of the hat, lift the iron and spin. Shot of steam, press the brim...) Parking his hip on the edge of Fraser's desk, Ray decided to try for casual. Casual could work. "Just in the neighborhood. Decided to stop by."

Fraser's laugh sounded forced and nervous. "Yes. Well. What a pleasant surprise."

"Yeah. Funny thing though, you don't sound like you think it's a pleasant surprise."

"Nonsense, Ray. Don't be foolish."

"Why'd you leave with Dewey?" Ray asked flat out. So much for casual there, Kowalski, he thought to himself. Zen ain't got nothing on you. Because, really, it had been what - thirty seconds? Thirty seconds and he was already dying to get this conversation started and finished. Christ, he needed a drink.

But at least Fraser had stopped ironing. Ray watched as he smoothed down the brim of one of the Stetsons, then picked it up and moved it to the back edge of the ironing board. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Ray pushed off the edge of the desk. "I was gonna drive you home like I always do. I go into Welsh's office for ten minutes and bam! You're gone. Hopped into the first car that came along that wasn't mine."

And that at least got Fraser to turn around. Something flashed quick and deep in Fraser's eyes. Yeah, that's it, Ray thought to himself. I want that. Gimme that.

"No, Ray. That wasn't the case."

"No?" Ray asked quietly. "Then why don't you tell me what the case was."

Fraser looked at him for a minute before turning back toward the ironing board. He carefully stacked the Stetsons together and walked briskly to the closet, opening the door and placing them neatly on the top shelf. "Accepting a ride home from Detective Dewey was merely an act of convenience, I assure you." Ray watched as Fraser walked over to his desk and sat down, opened a drawer and pulled out a thick stack of files. "Diefenbaker and I were ready to retire for the evening. While you were speaking with Lieutenant Welsh in his office, an opportunity for a ride home presented itself and we accepted."

Ray shot a look at Dief who was curled up on the floor. "That right?"

Dief raised his head and whuffed. Fraser stopped in the act of stacking the pile of files on his desk (pick up a file, tap it against the desk, lay it back down. Pick up another file, tap it against the desk...) and narrowed his eyes in Dief's direction. "I'll thank you kindly for staying out of this."

Dief whuffed again and got up off the floor, his toenails clicking against the linoleum as he left Fraser's office. "Thankless beast," Fraser muttered, then pushed his chair back and stood up again. This time he headed back to the ironing board, carefully wrapping the iron's cord around its base. (Twist the cord, wrap it through the handle, twist the cord, wrap it through the handle...)

Having had nearly enough, Ray went to stand next to Fraser. Fraser's body stiffened the moment he got close and Ray closed his eyes. This was not what he thought was going to happen. If he'd known... "Fraser, I gotta ask," Ray said quietly. "Why'd you leave today?" Fraser said nothing. Ray opened his eyes and looked directly at him. "We gotta talk about last night, Frase. For God's sake, I kissed you last night---"

"I'm well aware of that, Ray," Fraser interrupted, and Christ, there he went again, off to the other side of the room in three quick steps, leaving Ray by himself with nothing but a packed-up iron for company. "I was, in fact, the one you kissed."

"Yeah. So today you bolt. Real nice." Fraser ignored this and instead walked back to his desk and reopened the top drawer, putting the files he had so carefully stacked (pick up a file, tap it against the desk, lay it back down...) back inside. Ray scowled. "Didn't you just take those out?"

Fraser frowned and peered inside the drawer. Then he slammed it shut and wandered back over to the closet, opened the door and pulled the Stetsons back off the shelf. "Yes, well..."

Ray watched him carefully. There was something going on here. If he could just put his goddamned finger on it...

"We're gonna talk about last night."

"Really, Ray. I fail to see what-"

"We were sitting on my couch, watching the game -"

"...discussing the matter would accomplish. If anything-"

"...and you looked at me to say something, and I just said: 'Fuck it', in my head, that is. I said it in my head. And then I leaned over-"

"...it might even complicate matters even farther."

"...and kissed you. Christ! Will you stop? What the fuck are you doing now?"

Because the whole time Ray was talking to him, Fraser was stacking and re-stacking his goddamned hats. Over and over and over...

...And hello Clue Bus. Ticket for one, please?

"So, Frase," he said, abruptly changing tacks. He could be amiable. Because they were friends here. And friends didn't let friends freak the hell out. "Whatcha doing with the hats?"

Fraser looked down at the Stetsons he held in his hands again and quickly returned them to the shelf in the closet. "Just putting them away. Tidying up, one might say."

Ray nodded. "And the files?"

"Yes, well, those too needed to be -"

"That's important to you, isn't it? The whole neat, clean, straightened up, Type A kinda thing?"

Fraser's eyes flicked over to him and his lips curved into a tight, forced smile. "Yes, well, you know what they say: 'Un posto per tutto e tutto in esso posto'"

"Yeah. Funny thing about that, Fraser. I don't know anyone who says that." Christ, he was talking in different languages now. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"'A place for everything and everything in its place,'" Fraser translated. "It's an old Italian proverb, dating back..."

But Ray didn't hear anything else. He couldn't hear anything anymore over all the bells and whistles going off in his head because he got it. He finally got it, and with a slow smile, he crossed the room. Fraser retreated before him. "That's what the problem is, isn't it?"

Fraser faltered in his Italian-meets-the-Inuit tale or whatever the hell he was talking about. His eyes flicked nervously to Ray's then away and he took a step back. "I'm sorry, Ray, but I don't quite understand---"

"'A place for everything and everything in its place'," Ray repeated back to him, "but you don't know where to put me - put this - if things change. I won't fit into any of your nice little category boxes. Friend, partner..." Ray licked his lower lip, a thread of heat curling through his stomach when Fraser's eyes dropped down, following the movement of his tongue. "Where will you put me if I kiss you? If I touch you?"

Fraser's eyes closed. They'd walked to the other side of the room, Ray advancing, Fraser backing up, until Fraser's back hit the wall. "Don't do this, Ray," Fraser choked out.

Ray braced the palms of his hands against the wall, one on either side of Fraser's head, and leaned in close. So close he could bury his face against Fraser's neck if he wanted. Close enough to smell him, to drag his tongue over his skin and taste him. "Well, then we have a problem," Ray said quietly, his lips skimming across Fraser's throat. He heard Fraser gasp as he settled his teeth on Fraser's earlobe, before pulling back and licking the skin softly. "Because, see - I have to touch you. I can't not touch you."

Fraser groaned; Ray could feel the vibration against his teeth as he bit the side of Fraser's neck. His hair was soft and warm as it curled around his fingers, and Ray could barely manage to pull away long enough to look at him - really look at him.

Taking that last step, Ray pressed in against him, so that they stood together in perfect contact. Fraser was hard and hot and strong under him, and Ray rolled his hips, nudging his hard cock against Fraser's thigh. With a long, low moan, Fraser dropped his head against the wall with a loud thunk. "I can't take this anymore," Ray said, tightening his fingers in Fraser's hair until Fraser looked at him, his eyes cloudy and unfocused. "This wanting and not having. We'll figure out a new place to put this, but I can't not have it. Do you understand?"

"Ray..."

"Goddammit, Fraser." Ray grit his teeth. Fuck! If Fraser didn't want this, he'd leave; he'd have to. Have to just...go and never mention it again. "Tell me you want it - tell me you want me."

"I do." And Jesus, it sounded like it hurt him to say it. Like something was being torn from Fraser's chest, hard and ragged, but he pushed back against Ray, his cock hard against Ray's thigh, and suddenly Ray wasn't the one doing the pushing, he was the one being pushed. Fraser flipped them and Ray's head hit the back of the wall hard but nothing mattered because Fraser was on him, was against him. His hands were in Ray's hair and his mouth was hot and wet and moving, still talking even as he was kissing Ray.

And Ray couldn't think; could barely hear, but the things he could hear had him gasping and clutching at any part of Fraser he could reach. Things like: "I do want you," and "God, Ray, it hurts the way I want you," and "Sometimes I think I'll die if you don't touch me..."

And maybe the Clue Bus had a bit of a delayed arrival, but here it finally was, and they were both there at the station together. He gasped and moaned as Fraser kissed him. He filled his hands with the cotton of Fraser's shirt, pulling it from his pants and sliding his palms against the warm, soft skin of his waist, shivering as he felt the button of his own jeans being popped open; hearing the zipper snick down one notch at a time.

And then there was nothing. Nothing but Fraser's hand, wrapped tight - so tight around his cock he nearly came right there, without Fraser even doing anything. He fumbled awkwardly with the buttons and zippers of Fraser's pants, finally getting them open and shoving them roughly down Fraser's thighs until - God. Until they were both out and in the open, two hard, leaking cocks pressing against each other.

"God, Fraser, I'm gonna die. I'm dying. Please tell me I'm not dying..."

And he could swear he heard Fraser chuckle, and then that big hand was wrapped around the both of them, pumping them hard and fast. "Not yet, you're not," Fraser growled in his ear, and Ray thrust one, two, three times and came.

` ` ` ` ` ` ` After a minute, the room finally stopped spinning. Fraser was still pressed up against him, his forehead on the wall next to Ray. Ray looked down and almost laughed out loud. There they were, dressed from the waist up, pants shoved down around their ankles, and covered in spunk. Classy.

He cleared his throat. "Hey."

Fraser grunted softly. "Yes?"

"Did you, uh..."

Ray waved a hand up and down. Fraser tilted his face toward Ray, still resting his forehead against the wall and smiled. "Yes."

"Oh. Cool." Ray paused. "'Cause I wasn't sure-"

"It was at the same time," Fraser said quietly. "You might have been...distracted."

"Okay." Fraser shifted against him, his face resting in the crook of Ray's neck. "Because I wouldn't want you to think-"

"Ray, are you wondering if it was good for me?"

Ray could hear the smile in Fraser's voice and smacked him playfully on the head. "Yeah, yeah. I got the point. That's just...the same time, huh?"

He could feel Fraser smile against his neck. "I know. Incredible, isn't it."

"Yeah."

But that wasn't everything he wanted to say, and after another minute he found himself pushing against Fraser, trying to get him off his body. Ray needed to see him -- and be seen by him. "Come home with me?" And Fraser just blinked and looked at him blankly, so Ray decided not to make it a question. "Come home with me," he told him, and Fraser nodded and smiled.

"Okay."

They cleaned themselves up as best they could, and Ray wandered down the hall until he found Dief curled up and pouting by the front door of the Consulate. "Hey, Wolf. You're coming with me." Dief yipped happily and trailed after Ray as he went back to get Fraser.

Leaning his shoulder against the doorway, Ray watched Fraser toss his henley and the pumpkin pants to the floor, pull on a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt and stuff his feet in a pair of old workboots. He turned to Ray and smiled and Ray found himself grinning back helplessly.

"You ready, Frase?"

"Absolutely."

Fraser went to turn off the lights, and it was then that Ray realized what was wrong with the picture. "Hey Fraser. You gonna pick those clothes up and put them away before you go?"

Fraser didn't even turn back to look as he pulled the door closed behind him. "No, Ray," he said, a grin starting to form at the corners of his mouth. "I think I'm quite happy with the way things are right now."