Author's Notes: Thanks to Meresy for the beta! Written for the DS_flashfiction "threesome challenge".

Hat Trick

It took forty-five minutes to get out of downtown St. Louis, thanks to post-game traffic, some ridiculous road construction, and an accident on I-70 near Market Street.

This was infuriating, considering the damned game had ended in a tie after double-overtime, and who wanted to drive to St. Louis and back in one day for a tie? Now it was late, and they had a six-hour drive ahead of them to get back to Chicago. Post-game dissection got them out of traffic (mostly this involved a lot of cursing on behalf of both Rays), and making fun of Blues fans got them to Springfield (an activity in which Fraser elected not to participate, the spoilsport), but they still had a long way to go before home.

By the time they were nearing Bloomington, Vecchio was yawning and Fraser's Inuit stories started involving a lot of things about sleeping and comfortable pillows made out of some kind of bird feathers and seal stomachs. Ray was sprawled out in the back, watching the endless parade of billboards pass them by as Vecchio drove towards Chicago, ignoring Fraser's admonitions to slow down. Fraser's voice was really soothing, like that station with the DJs who played classical music and talked like they were doped up on morphine. Ray was starting to get worried that Vecchio was going to fall asleep at the wheel.

That was why he was relieved when Vecchio pulled off the highway and headed towards a Hampton Inn near the exit. "I'm beat," he said, pulling into the parking lot. "We're gonna stay here. Tomorrow's Sunday, we don't have to be back until dinner at Ma's so we can pick up Dief."

"You want I should drive?" Ray asked immediately, but there was no real enthusiasm behind the offer.

Vecchio's response--"Not even a little bit, Stanley,"--was the same, blurred at the edges by a yawn, and when they couldn't even work up the energy to argue about driving--yeah, it was time to stop.

Fraser didn't even bother to offer to drive, which was probably the clearest sign they were going to get that he, too, would appreciate a good night's sleep. Not that Vecchio would let Fraser drive--both Rays had, in fact, assembled stock responses for any time Fraser offered. "Sorry, the insurance doesn't cover Canadians," and "My car tends to blow up around you, or end up in Lake Michigan,' were particular favorites.

Fraser usually just thumbed his eyebrow, sighed, and said, "Of course, Ray, Ray. I know your attachments to your individual automobiles, and I would never want to make you feel they were in danger simply by my driving one," in the kind of stuffy tone that was really him saying, "Fine, I see how you don't trust me with your car."

Which made them both feel kind of guilty, but the thing was, it was true.

Vecchio parked the Riv in the row furthest from the door, which was completely empty, even though there were spaces closer to the entrance. It was exactly what Ray would have done with the Goat. As Ray fell into step beside him, he nudged Vecchio with his shoulder and grinned at him.

"What?" Vecchio asked, his eyes tired, but he smiled back at Kowalski.

"Nothing," Ray said, shrugging. He didn't want to explain that it made him happy Vecchio avoided parking next to other cars, because it would sound dumb to say that. So he just said, "You're a freak, Vecchio," and figured Vecchio would understand it was practically the same thing.

"Back 'atcha, Stanley," Vecchio said, and opened the lobby door.

Inside, Fraser went to look at the little display of pamphlets advertising whatever local attractions were in the Bloomington-Normal area while Vecchio went to get a room. Ray went over to stand by Fraser, who tried to interest him in local history--"Look, Ray, the David Davis mansion!"--and then wandered over to the coffee machine located in the small dining area. A sign next to the machine advertised complimentary coffee for guests.

"Score," he said, and took a Styrofoam cup from the adjacent stack. He filled it up, adding his customary sugar and, since no one was watching to make fun of him, used the little amaretto-flavored coffee creamer instead of his customary plain.

He managed to drink two more cups before he heard Vecchio say, "C'mon, we got a room." He sounded annoyed and his posture was tense, and it occurred to Ray that they probably looked really weird--three guys showing up in the middle of the night, no luggage, asking for a single room.

He finished the coffee, tossing the cup in the trash can next to the elevators.

"Kowalski, what was in the cup?" Vecchio asked him, eyes narrowed suspiciously as they waited for the elevator.

"Nothing," Ray answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. He bounced on his feet, rolled his neck. Threw a fake jab at Vecchio and laughed when he flinched, which Vecchio probably only did because he was tired, but it was still funny.

"Did you let him have coffee?" Vecchio demanded, arms crossed, giving Fraser a look. "Benny."

Fraser managed to look a bit embarrassed, ducking his head sheepishly. "I--no, I was--there were these pamphlets, Ray--"

"You should have been watching! You know how Kowalski is, he can sniff out free refreshments anywhere. It's three in the morning, what the hell did you need coffee for?"

Ray rolled his eyes theatrically, heaving a sigh. "Hey, c'mon. It was free." He bounced up and down on his feet, grinning. "They were small cups, don't worry about it."

"Cups?" Vecchio asked, his chin tilted upwards, gazing at the ceiling. "Jesus, Kowalski, how many did you have?"

"Two," Ray lied cheerfully, and then the elevator arrived. "What floor are we on? Who has the key? Lemme have it," he said, thrusting his hand out towards Vecchio.

"No," Vecchio snapped, punching the four several times in a row, as if that would help get them there faster.

"Yes," Ray responded immediately, crowding against Vecchio as soon as the doors closed. "Bet I can steal it from you, Vecchio."

Ray saw Vecchio's lips twitch. "No, Stanley. Would you just stop moving? You're making me even more tired than I--omph."

Ray decided to shut him by kissing him, and Vecchio--who could bitch all he wanted, but was actually pretty easy--kissed him back for a few long moments and then pushed half-heartedly against his shoulders. "C'mon, gimme a break. I'm exhausted."

"Shoulda had some coffee," Ray sang, then turned and moved towards Fraser with a glint in his eyes. Fraser opened his mouth--excellent--but before he could say anything or Ray could press him against the fake wood paneling of the elevator, the doors opened and they'd arrived at their floor.

Their room was near the end of the hall, and when they opened the door, Ray grinned. "Hey, look. King-sized bed."

"Indeed it is," Fraser said, stretching. He looked around the room. "Was this what took you such a long time, Ray? Trying to find a room where all three of us could sleep comfortably?"

"Nah," Vecchio said, pulling off his sweater. "I was trying to get one with a smaller bed, so we could make Kowalski sleep on a roll-away cot."

"Oh, fuck you," Ray said, only half-serious. He prowled around the room, flipping through the hospitality book, switching on all the lights and turning them off again.

"Language, Ray," Fraser said, leaning against the wall. He was watching him with a half-smile, glancing from Ray to Vecchio and looking very pleased, as if he sometimes forgot that this had all worked out, was working out, and they'd not managed to kill each other yet. Ray didn't blame him for looking happy about it -- it was kind of a minor miracle. "We should go to sleep. It's very late." Fraser pulled his shirt off, and Ray completely lost his train of thought and noticed Vecchio staring, too.

"We are lucky sons of bitches," Ray said, grinning and holding his fist out.

Vecchio laughed and bumped Ray's fist with his own. "Yeah. Come on," he said, tugging Ray closer by his t-shirt. "Maybe you need a hot shower. Or a blow to the head. You gonna be able to sleep after all that caffeine?"

"It's sweet when you worry about me," Ray said with a grin, and Vecchio snorted and hit him in the arm before moving away to undress.

"I'm worrying about me. You're twitchy enough when you sleep without sixteen cups of coffee."

"It was only three, and they were small, so--"

"I thought you said it was two," Fraser interrupted, sounding disapproving as he stepped out of his jeans. "Ray."

Ray threw his hands up in exasperation and pulled at his clothes, tossing his pants and his sweater on a chair. He got into bed--despite the fact he was kind of wired--and positioned himself right in the middle. He jostled his leg, shifted position sixteen times, and waited for Fraser and Vecchio to get in the bed with him. Vecchio, dressed in his boxers and undershirt, sprawled out on his stomach on one side of him. Fraser was wearing a pair of boxer-briefs--Ray and Vecchio had bought him those for Christmas, a superficial present that they fully admitted was entirely for their benefit--and no shirt, and his skin was warm next to Ray's. Ray was quiet for a few minutes, trying to be still and think about things that made him sleepy after Fraser turned out the bedside lamp.

That lasted for about four minutes.

"I can't sleep."

Vecchio groaned into the pillow. "I'm shocked."

"Fraser, tell me an Inuit story," Ray demanded, turning on his side. "Those always make me tired."

Next to him, Vecchio snickered.

"I'm very glad to hear that sharing stories of my childhood make you sleep," Fraser said. "Is this why you called me from that conference in Wichita?" Fraser asked suspiciously. "It did strike me as very strange you wanted to hear about that disreputable logging venture I helped dismantle in such minute detail."

"Um," Ray said, and Vecchio snorted again. "It was... look, you have a... relaxing voice, okay? Doesn't he, Vecchio?"

"Do not drag me into this, Kowalski. You made your overly-caffeinated bed, you toss around in it."

"Fine." Ray lay on his back, listening to the quiet, trying to count sheep or caribou or something to help him get to sleep. When that didn't work, he started thinking about the game, but that just pissed him off, so he started thinking about walking in on Fraser and Vecchio in the shower a few mornings ago, but that definitely was not helping him sleep. Fraser, all sleek and wet, on his knees in front of Vecchio, who had his hands clutched in Fraser's dark hair, thrusting his hips forward slowly, his head against the wet tile as he moaned and--

"Kowalski, are you kidding me?" Vecchio rolled towards him in the darkness and grabbed his wrist, which was moving slowly over his--oh.

"Look, I can't sleep." Ray whispered furiously. "And it's not my fault you and Fraser were so fucking hot in the shower. If I'm gonna think about someone blowing something, I'd rather think about that than how the 'Hawks blew that power play in the third period."

"Wow, thanks." Vecchio's hand was still on Kowalski's wrist. But he wasn't stopping him, in fact he was moving Ray's hand on his cock, keeping it slow and easy. Ray wanted more and faster and Vecchio was being a total dick and wouldn't give in. "That was pretty hot," Vecchio agreed, and Ray could hear the smile in his voice; that low, husky voice that was like butter and warm things and Ray liked it, he liked it a lot. He tried to move his hand faster but Vecchio's fingers tightened on Ray's wrist and he said, "Not yet," in a way that made Ray nearly come right there.

Ray pushed his hips demandingly and started kissing Vecchio, his tongue in Vecchio's mouth, and Vecchio tasted like the cheap free mouthwash sample Ray had seen in the bathroom. Vecchio's fingers tightened on his wrist and started moving Ray's hand a little faster, helping him out, and that was great.

"I see you've found a way to help Ray exercise his considerable energy." Fraser's voice, also warm, and now he was pressed up against Ray's back and that was excellent, that was fantastic, and why hadn't he just suggested this instead of asking for stories or thinking about running, jumping caribou?

"I figured if I didn't, we'd never get any sleep," Vecchio said, pulling his mouth away from Ray's to grin over his shoulder at Fraser.

"You're such a noble guy, Vecchio," Ray muttered, amused, and Fraser's hands slid beneath his t-shirt and mapped the muscles of his back with his fingers. "Fuck," Ray hissed, pushing his hips back, feeling Fraser hard against his ass. Fraser gave a low groan and slid his hand around to--oh, fuck--join Vecchio's on Ray's wrist, and that was too much, that was going to be the end of it, because now they were both moving Ray's hand, slowing down and speeding up in the best way ever.

"Should we let him come?" Vecchio drawled, amused. "He's been really annoying."

"Hey," Ray interjected, all breathless and stupid. He couldn't make himself say anything else, so he just said it again, a little more indignantly. "Hey."

"Mmm." Fraser was licking his neck and that was so not fair. "We could make him promise to go to sleep afterwards. A reward for good behavior."

"You know Kowalski. He never shuts up after sex. He never shuts up ever," Vecchio said, and he probably sounded kind of fondly exasperated but Ray couldn't really tell because he couldn't think, and who knew having someone else forcibly move your own hand on your own cock could be so hot?

And Ray wanted to say something, anything, maybe remind them they wouldn't have gotten those tickets to the game if Ray hadn't have answered that trivia question on WSCR, and weren't they glad he knew the price of admittance to a hockey game at the old Chicago Stadium in 1978? So maybe they should just shut up already and stop making fun of him like he wasn't there, and move their freaking hands faster. He would have said that, but all that came out was a choked moan and something that sounded like, "Nrgh."

Okay, he'd remind them later.

"Mmm. That's true.' Fraser pulled off Ray's t-shirt, tossing it aside and then nipping at his shoulder. Ray's hips bucked forward and his fingers tightened on his cock, and he could still do that even if he couldn't move his hand as fast as he'd like. "Of course, one could make the argument that we may provide him something else to do with his mouth once he's finished."

Vecchio laughed, warm against Ray's ear, and it raced up his spine and made him shiver. "I like the way you think, Benny."

Ray felt Vecchio move and then he and Fraser were kissing, right over his shoulder, and everywhere there was hot-hard-warm male. And that was great, because not only was it really fucking hot, but Vecchio and Fraser were so distracted by kissing they were loosening their grip on Ray's wrists so he could move his hand faster, and he could hear himself panting and he was getting close and--

Suddenly he found himself lying on his back, Fraser lying half on top of him, kissing him as intently as he did everything else, his body pressing Ray's back into the mattress. Which was why it took Ray a few minutes to realize Fraser had his arms pinned above his head. Vecchio had pulled off his boxers and his hand was on Ray's cock, jacking him slow, and Ray groaned into Fraser's mouth and pushed his hips, trying for some friction, please, God.

"Pushy," Vecchio said, and then Ray felt Vecchio's mouth on his cock and he was moaning louder, and Fraser moved to mouth at his neck in that way he had made Ray insane. Ray tried to pull his hands out of Fraser's grip, because he really wanted to reach down and grab onto Vecchio's shoulders while Vecchio sucked him, but Fraser wouldn't let him and just shoved his wrists down again, and fuck that was just--

"Vecchio--Christ, I--you--" Ray couldn't think and Vecchio's goddamn fantastic mouth was driving him crazy, and Vecchio was humming a little which made Ray's eyes roll up in the back of his head. Vecchio was really fucking good at this, and he didn't mind that Ray was pushing his hips up, just going for it, driving deep and hard and Oh, Christ--

He came with a low moan and sprawled back on the bed, panting and trying to breathe right and remember his name and the date, Jesus.

Vecchio moved back up next to him, looking really smug. Ray didn't even care, couldn't even summon the strength to hit him upside the head. "Hey," Ray said, and he sounded dumb and totally fucked-out. "Glad I knew it was four dollars," he managed after considerable effort, flinging one arm up and covering his eyes.

Vecchio laughed, his hand resting warm and heavy on Ray's stomach. "What?"

"I think he means he's glad that he knew the answer to the trivia question," Fraser deduced with his usual brilliant, slightly-creepy logic abilities. "If I remember correctly, that was the price of admittance to the Chicago Stadium for the second-balcony seats. Remember, Ray, Ray had to tell us about smoking illegal substances on the stairwell when he would go to the games as a teenager?"

"Oh, right. I thought Kowalski was saying my blowjob was only worth four bucks," Vecchio responded, and bit Ray's shoulder, smiling against his skin.

"Nah. That's worth at least ten," Ray mumbled, grinning as he felt Vecchio's teeth nip again, sharper this time. He lay there for a moment in blissful post-sex haze, and then moved his arm away from his eyes. Fraser and Vecchio were kissing again, using Ray's chest for leverage. "Hey, get a room," Ray joked, and he heard Fraser laugh as he moved around so that Vecchio was in the middle. Fraser was kissing his way down Vecchio's chest after having pulled off his shirt, and Vecchio's breathing got all crazy and rough as Fraser moved lower.

Ray turned and propped himself up on his elbow, watching, and then started talking to Vecchio, low, right in his ear. Because Vecchio was right, Ray was chatty after sex--and before, and during--but Vecchio liked it, especially because Ray had no problem saying things that were outrageous, or dirty, or both. Which was what he was doing now, watching as Fraser removed Vecchio's boxers and took Vecchio's cock in his mouth in one smooth gesture.

Ray's running commentary ranged from things like, "You like that? Fuck, that's hot, Vecchio, I love to watch him suck you off," which made Vecchio moan, and things like, "You're not gonna last nearly as long as I did," which made Vecchio choke out a laugh and flail an arm out and try to hit him in the shoulder. And then he just started kissing Vecchio, tasting himself and sucking on Vecchio's tongue while Fraser sucked hard on his cock, and it wasn't long at all until Ray felt Vecchio go tense beneath him, heard his low groan as he came in Fraser's mouth.

Ray moved back as Fraser moved up the bed to kiss Vecchio, watching them, feeling dumb and happy and--finally--really, really tired. Fraser noticed, because Fraser noticed everything, and he protested when Ray pushed at him to get on his back. "Really, Ray, it's all right, you don't have to," he said earnestly, but his face was flushed and Ray could feel his heart racing beneath his palm where he was trying to shove Fraser down on the mattress.

"Trust me, Fraser, Kowalski owes you," Vecchio joked, looking all sleepy and content himself. "Besides, it'll give me something to think about when I can't sleep."

Fraser looked like he was going to protest that, so Ray reached down and tugged off Fraser's boxer briefs, pushing them down enough that he could get his hand around Fraser's cock. "Don't even argue, Fraser, you're getting a handjob. You trying to tell me you don't want it?" Fraser's cock was hot and heavy in his hand, and he gave a small shudder when Ray tightened his fingers.

Fraser sounded a little breathless as he spoke, looking over at Ray in the darkness. "Of course not, Ray, it's just that I know it's very late--"

"Just lie back and think about Canada," Vecchio interrupted lazily, and Ray choked back a laugh.

"Oh, no, Ray. I believe I'll think about how you looked when you were sucking Ray's cock," Fraser said, in one of those instances where he just had to tell the truth, no matter what was going on at the time or how completely dirty it sounded. And Ray would have bet the GTO that Fraser was blushing -- he might suck cock like a champion, but Fraser was still Fraser.

Ray took his time because Fraser--of course--had some superhuman powers of endurance and there was no point in trying to hurry things up. Besides, Ray didn't mind; he went slow and then gradually sped up, liking the way Fraser went from breathing hard to short, uncontrolled moans. Fraser's hand slid up Ray's back and anchored in his short hair, his thighs shaking as Ray jacked him fast and sure.

Fraser shuddered and came hard with a choked gasp, hands so tight in Ray's hair it was just on the good said of painful. Ray kissed him soundly then collapsed next to him with a satisfied smirk. "Good thing I had that coffee," he mumbled, pulling the pillow towards him.

"Good thing I'm too tired to smack you," Vecchio said sleepily, his voice entirely affectionate. "Jesus, Kowalski. If you can't get to sleep after that, you're sleeping in the tub. Right, Benny?"

"Right, Ray."

Ray closed his eyes, already feeling the edges of sleep pulling at him. "You wouldn't make me do that, Fraser." he said, waving a hand sleepily in Fraser's general direction. "Vecchio would, but you wouldn't. You'd sleep in the tub," Ray muttered, yawning, and Fraser's silence was answer enough that Ray was totally right about that.

Ray thought he'd drift off to sleep right away, not a single jumping caribou necessary, but then he felt the bed shift, and heard a noise as Fraser--was he making a phone call? He opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, and then heard Fraser say, "Yes, this is room 409. We'd like to arrange for a late check out, please," and was asleep before Fraser finished his thank you kindly.