Author's Notes: Unbeta'd and written just now. Title from Oscar Wilde. I'm a little out of practice, I think.

Story Notes: Written for ds_snippets Challenge 119 - prompt of saint.

Saint.

Ray looked at Fraser's sleeping face and that's the first word that came to mind.

He'd grown up being dragged to St. Hedwig's twice a week, Sunday mornings for the Mass in Polish, and Wednesdays for the Novena to Our Lady of Czestochowa. He could still recite the Lord's Prayer in Polish, the solemn words echoing through the cathedral in his mind.

Ojcze nasz, ktrys jest w niebie, swiec sie imie twoje.

He hadn't set foot in St. Hedwig's since the day his father had pretty much disowned him for dropping out of college and applying to the CPD, but that hadn't erased an entire childhood of Polish traditions, from the Blessing of the Baskets to Paczki Day to St. John's Night.

He remembered the painted, gilded murals and stained-glass windows of the saints: Adalbert, Simon, Cunegund and his namesake, Stanislaus. Beautiful men and women, glowing with their holiness, perfect.

Fraser, asleep, looked a lot like that. Untouchable and distant, far above mere mortals.

Ray sometimes wondered why Fraser had stayed with him. Why he stayed with a beaten-down old Chicago flatfoot with no good prospects and bad knees.

"Ray?" Fraser's voice was rough and husky with sleep. "What's wrong? You look upset."

Ray looked up into Fraser's bright blue eyes and for a brief moment, thought about lying. But they'd been together for too long for Ray to get away with it. Fraser would keep at him until he pried the truth out of him. "Insecurities," he murmured, ducking his head a little, ashamed and embarrassed.

"Ah." Fraser reached out and grasped Ray's shoulder, pulling him close. "I love you."

Ray buried his nose into the crook of Fraser's neck, breathing him in. "I know. I'm just stupid, sometimes." Fraser half-hugged him. "I love you, too, Fraser."

-fin-