Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, I'm not making any money off this, this writing is for fun and entertainment only.

The thing Ray liked best about being with Fraser -- and he meant being with Fraser, body, mind, spirit, heart, all that romantic crap that Ray thought of, but never knew how to say -- was that nothing changed. Well, they kissed now, and they slept in the same bed and there was the sex, of course, but besides the obvious, nothing changed. He liked that more than anything. More than the kissing and more than sleeping in the same bed, although that was pretty high up on the likability scale and sometimes he liked it even more than the sex because it made him feel like he was part of something special and real and true.

Ray remembered when Stella moved in and things had gotten all weird and formal. They had been all "oh, excuse me" and "no, after you" until one day, after a long, tense drive home from Stella's parents' house, Ray was so desperate for a piss that he didn't even bother to close the door. He had been mad too, of course, so closing the bathroom door hadn't been his number one priority. All he'd really wanted was to take that piss he so desperately needed, then ask why the hell Stella's old man wouldn't just lighten up on him, for God's sake, because he was a good husband and a good cop and he was taking care of Stella. She had walked past the bathroom and stopped, looking stunned, like Ray had broken some unwritten law of living together by peeing with the door open and hey, maybe he had, but he needed to pee, dammit.

Things had been different after that. It wasn't like Ray decided to perform all of his basic bodily functions in front of Stella, but there were no more oddly Canadian-like pleasantries between the two of them.

That was what he liked best about this thing with Fraser. There was never any pleasantries and nothing changed. Sure, they got home from work and Fraser pushed him up against the apartment door before Ray even had it closed completely, and Fraser kissed him like it was the last time he'd be able to and Ray got hard faster than he ever thought was possible and they usually ended up in the bedroom before Ray even took his jacket off, but nothing had changed. When Fraser was done licking long, soft lines down Ray's body, when he was done jerking Ray with hard, fast movements, when he was done thrusting into Ray, he crawled up to Ray's side and they lay there and they talked like they always had. Maybe they talked more about the future now, about what things might be like in a few years, about the idea that they both wanted kids, about going to Europe maybe because Ray had never really travelled. He'd always wanted to travel with someone he loved and he loved Fraser, so that was a really good plan. But they still talked like normal and still fought like normal and sometimes they snapped at each other within minutes of having sex, but that was good too, because it was the same as before.

And Ray still called Fraser "buddy", only now he added "I love you" to it rather than "you're a freak". Well, most of the time. Fraser still scolded Ray for feeding Diefenbaker table scraps and still lectured Ray on the fat content of the leftover Chinese he ate for lunch four or five days a week. He had to eat it for lunch instead of dinner because Fraser had started to cook for him, things that were healthy and, surprisingly, tasted pretty good. Ray still tried to get Fraser to understand the lingo thing and was still pretty sure he never would, but he had also stopped caring, because the most important thing Fraser said now was "I love you" and he said that perfectly. No Americanization needed.

Ray still picked Fraser up from the Consulate, not because they were planning on having dinner and watching TV, but because slowly, Fraser had worked his way into Ray's apartment until it was no longer Ray's apartment, but their apartment. One day Ray had mentioned getting a house with a back yard for the wolf and Fraser had beamed until Ray wondered if his face was broken and had kissed him to find out. Fraser had been the furthest thing from broken.

They still touched. Just like they always had. Ray still put his hand on Fraser's shoulder when they walked down the hall at the precinct and he still hugged Fraser in public. A guy hug, sure, a quick pat on the back and a grin, but it was just like it had always been. Fraser still tilted Ray's head to catch the light when he was patching him up, he still tucked a finger under Ray's chin and guided his face with his thumb, then slathered some foul smelling junk on Ray's open wounds. And Ray still bitched about the smell, still kicked Fraser's shins lightly when it started to sting and grinned like he hadn't done it on purpose.

Sometimes that was a little different too. Ray could allow that. If Ray had his hand on Fraser's shoulder when they walked down the hall, his touch was usually lighter and maybe he'd be tracing soft patterns on Fraser, knowing he could feel them even through the serge, knowing he could feel those tiny patterns right down to his toes. Sometimes when they hugged, Fraser's palm would accidently drift downward and Ray would grin. When Fraser tilted his head and brushed smelly moose membrane onto Ray, they'd usually end up kissing and the smelly crap would end up on Fraser too, which pleased Ray more than it should.

Even when they were done kissing and Ray's mouth was otherwise occupied and Fraser was groaning his name, it felt like nothing had changed because Ray had been dreaming of this for years. And when they were in bed and Ray's legs were tangled with Fraser's and he was too damn hot because Fraser's body had been conditioned to sleeping in minus fifty freaking degree weather, he felt like it was still the same. When he woke up with Fraser's arm over his back and Fraser's face pressed into his shoulder and Fraser's hard hip digging into his lower back, Ray never complained because he was somehow used to it. He was used to having Fraser everywhere, all over, in his life, in his car, in his job, in his apartment, in his fucking veins and he never wanted anything else. Just that. Just Fraser.

He had spent so long wanting it. They had both spent so long wanting it, dreaming of it, feeling it. So, really, nothing had changed. They had simply gone from wanting it to having it and Ray figured he could live quite happily like that. So, yeah, the things he liked best about being with Fraser were the intimate parts, maybe even the ordinary parts.

If this was ordinary, then ordinary was what Ray liked best.