Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Aren't mine, don't own 'em, thought they were cute and might like to have some fun. Besides, talk about subtext. This is JiM's fault, and Bone's. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. But

Author's Notes:

Story Notes:

• Crossing the Line ***

Okay, maybe I crossed the line, maybe I didn't have to watch video all those times, but you know, Dief didn't mind at all.

I'm watching it again, just still so jazzed, when Fraser comes looking for Dief.

"Hey, Fraser, see, right here I'm doing that looking at the seams on the ball thing you told me to do."

He's polite, he does look at the television, but he rubs his eyebrow. "You were remarkable, Ray."

Okay, I guess I'm being obnoxious. More obnoxious than usual. I hit the Stop button and grin at him. "You did it, Fraser. You told me what to do and damn, it worked."

"I'm glad my advice proved, helpful, Ray."

I bounce up off the desk I'm sitting on. "So, you wanna go and get something to eat, Fraser?"

He rubs his eyebrow again. "Well, actually, Ray, I'm rather tired."

"We can go to that little Chinese place you like." I'm bouncing on the balls of my feet. "I'm buyin'."

He eyes me, and I can't read anything on his face. "Perhaps another time, Ray."

"You sure? Hey, you don't get me to buy that often, you gotta take your chance while you can?" But there's a funny feeling in my gut. Even for Fraser, he's acting kinda odd.

"Not tonight, but thank you kindly for the invitation."

Okay. He means it. That funny feeling in my gut gets worse. "Okay, well, uh, let me give you a lift back to the Consulate then."

"Oh, no, that won't be necessary, thank you, Ray. After the long drive, I'm anxious to stretch my legs." A Mountie smile.

I can feel my own grin make like a tree and leave. "Yeah. Okay."

Another Mountie smile. "Enjoy the video, Ray. Dief, come."

Dief looks at him for a minute before getting off the couch.

Why do I feel like&.like shit? All of a sudden, things are really weird, and I feel like I did something wrong. Hey, I gave him credit, right, it wasn't like I was claiming that I did it all on my own.

He nods again at me, gives me that Mountie smile. "Good night, Ray."

"Night." I watch him go, and honest to God, I feel like I got punched in the belly.

I'm still standing there like a goof when Welsh comes in and looks at me. "Don't you have a home?"

"Yeah, yeah." I pop the Eject button and grab the tape, and stomp past him. Now I'm pissed and embarrassed, and yeah, if I let myself think about it, my feelings are hurt.

Which is stupid. I mean, Fraser has a life, I have a life, it's not like we have to hang out together. Sure, before I took off on vacation, we were hanging out a lot, I just got used to it.

For all I know, he's got plans. He's a pretty private guy, I guess I can see why he might not want to talk about it in the office, especially with Frannie hanging around.

Even though I keep telling myself this, I'm still feeling low when I get home. I mooch around the apartment for a while, but you know, I hate this fucking apartment sometimes. And there's no food in the fridge, and I'm grouchy as hell, and I can't think of anything I want to eat, and I still feel like somebody stole my fucking teddy bear.

So instead of eating, I sit and stew for a while, and the more I sit and think about Fraser, the more I sit and stew, and finally, I take a shower, change into clean clothes, get in the car and head over to the Canadian Consulate.

By the time I get there, I'm edgy and a little pissed and I bang hard on the door.

Takes a minute, but he answers it, and he's still got those pumpkin pants on, but he's lost the red tunic. "Ray!" Surprised voice, and he looks a little embarrassed. "Ah, I wasn't expecting you."

Okay, maybe he had plans. I point my finger at his chest. "You got company?" Because if he does, I'm being an asshole, and I'll just fold up my signs and go home.

He blinks at me and shakes his head. "No, Ray, unless you're referring to Dief-"

"I'm not." Okay, I can stay a little pissed then, and I brush past him even though he's not exactly acting like he's glad to see me here. I stand there in the hallway with my back to him until he closes the door. "Look, Fraser, you're the Cannot Tell a Lie Mountie, so I'm gonna ask you just one question. What the hell did I do to piss you off?"

Fraser doesn't say anything, but when he comes around to face me, I can see he's really startled now. "Ray, you haven't done anything-what makes you think you did?"

Can I just crawl under the hallway rug? I wish. Maybe I'm tired, too. "How come you didn't want to get something to eat with me?" Oh, Christ, I sound like a whiny, needy three year old. Time to retreat. "Never mind, Jesus, I'm sorry." I turn so fast I almost give myself whiplash and reach for the doorknob, but his hand comes out and closes around my wrist.

I look at him.

He looks more embarrassed now. "I'm sorry, Ray, I didn't intend to, ah, be rude. I simply could not watch that video through again, no matter how splendidly you performed under pressure." He rubs his eyebrow again. "Ah, imagine, Ray, if I insisted on telling you Inuit tales nonstop for three hours."

I swear to God, I have a lump in my throat. How insane is that? I nod, but I'm not sure I'm feeling any better. Inuit stories are Inuit stories, that's all. I guess I figured&well, I figured wrong, I've been thinking like I'm about eight years old, and Jesus, how dumb is that.

He's watching me worriedly. "I am glad you had the video. It may be presumptuous of me, but I was actually quite impressed and proud, watching you out there on the field. You internalized my suggestions remarkably well-"

"Stop it, Fraser. It was a fucking baseball game." I say it low and hard. "Okay?"

He looks more worried. "It was an undercover assignment, Ray, and you handled it splendidly."

The worst part of this whole conversation is that I know he means it. If he thought I'd fucked up, he'd tell me as politely as possible, but he'd tell me. So there's a part of me that feels pretty good about that, but the rest of me still isn't quite sure. "In Podunk, Illinois."

"Nevertheless," he says and his fingers tighten. "I apologize, Ray, if I've offended you."

I sigh. "Forget it, Fraser. I was a pain in the ass. I'll get out of your hair."

He doesn't let go of my arm. "Well, actually, Ray, have you eaten yet? With one thing and another, I still haven't had the opportunity."

"Not hungry." I look at his hand. "Fraser, you mind letting go of me?"

He lets go, but looks like he wishes he hadn't. "Ray, I sincerely apologize if I've in any way offended you."

"No, s'okay." I just want out, I'm gonna go home, have a few drinks, and go to bed. "I'll, uh, see you tomorrow, maybe."

He looks about as happy as I feel, but I head out the door.

I get home and break out the booze. After a couple, I'm so mad at myself, I take the fucking video and throw it across the room, hear the crack of plastic and figure I finally get why my dad thinks I'm a loser.

What really gets me is that Inuit story thing. I cut him off all the time on that, but Fraser never seemed to mind. I wonder if he does. And that makes me feel even shittier.

That's not buddies and I never even thought about it until I got my nose outa joint tonight. Loser.

Bedtime. When the pity party gets out of hand, it's time to call it a night.

I wake up about eleven, mostly because someone's pounding on the door, and partly because I gotta take a whiz, and partly because I never did eat anything the night before and my gut is doing the Titanic thing.

I stumble to the door in my skivvies and throw it open, just to get the pounding to stop. Naturally, there stands Fraser, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, and a paper bag in the other. Good coffee, too, from the coffeehouse a block over. Dief is nosing around the hallway behind him. "Good morning, Ray." Kind of cautious.

"Why the hell aren't you at work?" I snarl.

He blinks. "It's Saturday, Ray."

Oh. Yeah. I forgot, that's why I slept 'til eleven. So I open the door wider for him and let him in. "I gotta-" I wave vaguely at the bathroom. "Step into the shower for a minute."

He nods, and I do.

Manage to take a pee and get the shower on before my stomach finally decides the seas are a little too rough and I end up hanging back over the toilet, dry heaves. Hate that, hate that, hate that, I'd rather puke something up than dry heave.

Haven't done this for a long time, not since I put on Ray Vecchio's life like a second hand suit. Now I remember why, but damned if I can figure out why I did it this time.

There's Pepto in the medicine cabinet, thank God, even if it's two years older than God, and I slug back some of it, lean over the sink until I'm sure it's gonna stay down. The hot water in the shower doesn't kill me, and after a little while, I start to feel halfway human again.

So I turn the water off, brush my teeth very carefully, and wrap a towel around my waist before I open the bathroom door.

I kinda lift my chin at him while I'm passing through, and he gives me this little frown from the couch. Jesus, he's been tidying up, the bottle and the glass are gone from the coffee table.

I hope that doesn't mean I'm due for a Mountie lecture.

I gotta do laundry, no clean shorts, my oldest pair of jeans, the ones ripped at the knee and with the outside seam wearing through on my upper thigh, but hey, it's not a fashion show, I pull them on commando, drag on an ancient Hawks T-shirt and head out to face the music.

He hands me the coffee first. It's cooling off, but it still tastes like a little bit of heaven, and then there's some kind of muffins in the bag, nothing Mountielike at all, like apples and brown sugar on top, and I practically inhale them. My stomach's sticking to my backbone, and Fraser just watches, doesn't say anything until I'm licking my fingers.

I clear my throat. "Thanks, Fraser."

He smiles then, only this is a real one, not that Mountie smile. "A peace offering, if you will, Ray."

Eh. My stomach kind of winds up again. "You don't need to do that, Fraser. I was just all kinds of wound up last night, I was bein' a jerk."

He gives me a dead on look. "No, Ray, you weren't. I wasn't being much of a friend."

Let me just crawl under the couch and lay there, please. "Look," I say, holding the coffee cup with both hands. "It was no big deal, I was making a big deal out of nothin'." He's frowning at me again. I take in a deep breath. "Ya know, Fraser, when I say stuff like you're a freak, you know I'm joking, don't you?"

That frown gets deeper. "I assumed so, yes. You have a colorful way of expressing yourself, that's all."

I think that's good. I feel relieved anyway. "Good. Good." Take another sip of coffee. He's still frowning at me. "So, what're you and Dief up to today?"

He glances at Dief, who is curled up in the chair. Sometimes, Dief just seems all dog, and I gotta wonder about that wolf stuff. I mean, maybe it's just hard to believe there's a half-wolf sitting in my livingroom, shedding on my furniture. "Well, we were going to spend some time in the park, I think. We had a run this morning, early, and did very well, so I think he's entitled to some recreational time."

For all the grouching he does at Dief, you can tell he's damn soft on that animal. "Cool," I say.

"Actually." He rubs his eyebrow and my gut tightens up. "I was wondering if you'd care to join us?"

Okay, I'm getting a warm fuzzy from that. "I gotta do laundry," I tell him and sigh. "I'm just about outa everything."

He raises the eyebrow he rubbed. "Two pairs of hands can make a task go more quickly."

I can't help but laugh at that. "Fraser, don't tell me, you like doing laundry."

His mouth twitches a bit. "Well, the Laundromat is much more convenient than beating one's clothes against a rock at the riverside."

I think he's pulling my leg. I'm not always sure, sometimes. "You don't do that."

Yeah, he's pulling my leg, he grins. "Only in emergencies."

Emergencies. Heh. "Standard procedure?"

"Something like that."

So I think about it for a minute. Let's see, doing laundry by myself and probably moping myself back into another drinking binge versus doing laundry with Fraser and Dief and going to spend the afternoon in the park.

No brainer. "Okay, let me get stuff together, laundry's in the basement."

He smiles again, really smiles. "Excellent. If I might suggest, though, shoes and socks would probably be wise."

I look down at my bare feet and wiggle my toes. "Yeah, wouldn't want the rats to go for my toes." I look up, and he's looking at my feet, kind of half-smiling. "What?"

He shakes his head. "You look very relaxed, that's all." Still with that funny smile. "Where do you keep your laundry supplies?"

"Under the sink in the kitchen. I should have enough for this batch." I pop up, drain the last of the coffee. "Pitter patter."

He grins and stands up, takes the cup and the empty bag. Christ, I think he even dusted while I was in the shower.

I head off for the bedroom, grab some socks and my boots, gather up the laundry, most of which is on the floor of the closet in a plastic laundry basket. There's a lot of it.

Fraser is studying the fabric softener bottle when I come back out. "Downy fresh?" he asks, and his mouth twitches.

Christ, I can feel myself turn red. "Um. I like the way it makes things smell." It makes them smell almost like home, or like home once was, before Stella and I split. I had to smell all the brands before I figured out which one, and people in the store were giving me weird looks like sniffing fabric softener was some kinda perversion.

He just grins, drops the bottle on top of the clothes, grabs the bottle of laundry detergent, and gets the door.

I can't believe I'm doing my laundry with Fraser. Sick, Ray, really sick. Buddies is&hanging out together, playing pool, going to the park, camping out, whatever. Doing laundry together is sort of&.weird.

Except I like it. What does that say about me? I think I'm afraid to figure it out.

Fraser folds things neatly, like my mom used to. Matches my socks. I'm folding like I always do, like there's a fire and I just wanna get stuff out of the way, and he's doing this neatness thing, and I'm watching his hands. Kinda restful, really, watching him off duty.

On duty, sometimes, that detail thing makes me nuts. Well, not sometimes, it makes me nuts a lot. He's got fairly good-sized hands, but he's real careful with 'em. When he took care of my head, back during the Volpe thing, he was real gentle, even if that stuff he put on the cut stank to high heaven and back.

He catches me watching him, gives me a curious look. "What?"

I shrug, and hope I'm not blushing. "Nothin', just thinking my clothes haven't gotten this kind of attention in a while." Neither have I, I think and boy, then I do blush. What the hell am I thinking?

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, where is my head? And why is it there?

My heart thumps hard, and Fraser gives me a kind of odd look and takes the towel away that I'm mangling, folds it neatly in three moves and puts it on top of the folded laundry. "Is that it?" he asks me, like I'm acting halfway normal.

I nod, but my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, so that's about all I can do.

"Excellent. There, that didn't take long, did it?" He grins, picks up the basket, and leads the way out of the laundry room.

I am noticing Fraser's ass.

And I am realizing that I've actually been noticing it for a little while, in a sort of casual way.

Fuck. Me. Running.

I'm on automatic the whole way back upstairs, and I'm watching the muscles shift underneath that denim as he walks, and I can't figure out when this happened.

It was that fucking buddy breathing, it had to be. There I was, going out, going out, couldn't see, couldn't breathe, and then there's a cold mouth over mine, and he's holding my head and breathing into my lungs.

And he kept untangling me from things, didn't just take off and leave me floundering.

God.

I unlock the apartment, and open the door, and he carries the basket in and sets it down.

I'm standing there like a doof, and he looks at me, tilts his head. "Ray?"

Not like a doof, like something worse. I'm staring at him and I can't get my mouth to work to pretend I'm okay.

"Ray?" He takes a step forward, frowns a little. "Ray?"

I kick start my brain. "Yeah?"

The frown gets deeper. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." I rub my chin, trying to think. "Um, yeah, think the blood sugar's still a little down, let's grab something to eat on our way to the park." I'm practically stuttering, I swear to God, and he looks worried again.

"Are you all right?"

"You asked me that already," I tell him, kinda snarky. "Let me get my jacket."

He nods, still frowning; I grab my windbreaker and we're out the door.

We stop and pick up some subs. Fraser, naturally, gets something healthy, like lean smoked turkey, and I go for all the corrode-your-arteries and unnatural preservatives I can get.

But I still don't get the Mountie lecture. And now I think about it, I wonder if I just got lucky, or if he's biding his time. We take the sandwiches to the park, and watch Dief prance around in the grass and roll all over it the way dogs do, and I'm drinking my Pepsi when sure enough, Fraser looks over at me and says, "Ray, I realize this isn't my business, but did you finish that entire bottle last night?"

That wasn't quite what I expected, so I inhale Pepsi and cough it back out, and he's pounding my back not so helpfully.

"Jesus, Fraser." I think I got Pepsi in my sinuses, and it stings. "It wasn't a full bottle, you think I wanna end up in the hospital?"

He flicks his eyebrow, frowns at me. "Ah. Good."

I shrug, crack my neck from side to side. God, he's got me doing it. "It was only half-full."

Okay, here it comes, I can see it in his eyes. "I see." He cracks his neck then. "You were very upset then, when you went home."

"I was just wired, Fraser, just had to get my head on straight."

"And a half bottle of Scotch helped you do that?" His tone is pretty starchy.

"No, but it helped me sleep." I feel about eight years old again, except I never drank Scotch when I was eight.

"I wish you hadn't gone home last night." He's not looking at me now. "Ray, the last thing I intended was to upset you."

I'm picking at the stray pieces of tomato falling out of my sandwich. "Fraser, let's just not go there, I told you, I was bein' a jerk. Besides, it's no big deal. I was just wired, that's all."

He's still not looking at me. Finally nods.

So, we eat our sandwiches, and I talk about hockey and football, kinda desperate for conversation that doesn't include Ray Kowalski, needy asshole, and oh, hey, by the way, Fraser, I've been watching your ass and it's really a nice one.

He explains curling to me, and we walk around the park when we're done eating, and even though it's a day off, a Saturday, I'm doing that cop thing without thinking about it, checking out little clumps of people for trouble. Nice day, lots of folks out, lots of kids.

Lots of dogs.

Dief is all over that, and after a little while, it's just another day hanging with Fraser, except in the back of my mind I know I'm checking him out. And feel guilty about it

I mean, look, I'm not innocent, I did some fooling around when I was still in college, it's not so much that I'm checking out a guy that has me freaked, it's that I'm checking Fraser out.

He's my partner. He's a Mountie, for Christ's sake. I know he's not, like, totally pure, everybody has filled me in about that Metcalf witch, so he's human. It's just that&okay, it's that he's pure.

So anyway, we spend the rest of the afternoon together, and end up hitting a new movie, interesting sci-fi movie, even if some of the special effects were only so-so. We end up talking about it over Hungarian, and Fraser goes off on this whole tangent about mythic structure and tells me a few Inuit myths to prove his point.

And I don't cut him off. I probably will when we're working. He makes me nuts sometimes, but it's not really his fault. He takes things logically, and my mind is jumping around from spot to spot, fillin' in the lines, and listening to that logic makes me crazy.

Now, though, it's kind of soothing. "So this archetype stuff, it's like in everybody's unconscious mind, huh?"

He beams at me. "Exactly. Well, at least that's the theory, and I must say I'm inclined to accept it."

"So that's why people always wanna have heroes." I take another bite and think about that. "You're kind of archetype material yourself, Fraser."

He stares at me for a minute. "What do you mean, Ray?" Confused.

"You know, SuperMountie. Leaps tall buildings with a single bound, faster than a speeding bullet." I grin.

He doesn't grin back. "That's just silly, Ray."

Whoa, I just stepped on the Mountie's tail. "I'm just raggin' on ya, Fraser, but you have to admit, there's some truth in it. That's how people see you. A sorta superhero, fightin' for truth, justice and the Canadian way."

His face is red now. "Not only am I not a superhero, I find it very doubtful that I can be classified as a hero at all."

Real stiff tone, real starchy tone. He's pissed. You don't see Fraser pissed too often, at least not about personal stuff. Even though I feel kinda bad, it's kind of interesting. "I just mean they see that you stand for something, that's all."

Dead silence. He's eating like it's going to be his last meal, not looking at me.

Jeez, I wasn't even trying and I got on his nerves. Out of nowhere, my stomach ties up into a knot again and my appetite is gone, gone, gone.

I sort of push the food around my plate for a while, pretending to eat.

"I'm just a man, Ray. Not a hero, not a superhero." His voice isn't quite as starchy now, and when I look up he's watching me, his face a little sad. "I make my share of mistakes."

This sure isn't the time to point out that all heroes make mistakes, that's what he was telling me about the hero's flaw and how the hero has to make the journey to knowledge. Nope, not this guy, I just nod, clamp down on my mouth hard.

"Jumping off the roof into the lake," he says suddenly. "You can't deny you felt strongly that was a mistake."

Oh, shit. I really, really, really do not want to go there. Of the half a gazillion things I regret doing in my life, punching Fraser in the face is right up there in the top five. "Yeah." Very quietly. "I did."

"There you are." He points his fork at me. "If I had waited for backup before we began pursuit-"

"I don't wanna talk about that." I push the food around my plate some more.

He eyes me, frowns. "I'm not perfect, Ray."

Yeah, right. Damn near. As good as. Whatever. I force myself to take another bite and nod.

"Jumping out a second floor window," he tells me. "You can't deny that was a mistake."

"Fraser, I get it, okay?" I snarl it at him. "You don't have to beat me over the head, I get it, and jeez, I'm sorry I said anything, okay?" There's a lump in my throat the size of a golfball. I mean, shit, I rag on him all day long, you know, but he never breaks a sweat. And I snarl at him when I'm the one started it. Christ.

He's staring at me like I just grew another head. "I'm just a human as you are, Ray." Snarling back.

Not even close. "Fraser, you're completely unhinged." I point at him with my fork. "You are so far past the average guy, you just don't get it, do you? Look at it this way, Fraser, remember Ellery? Remember how you wanted me to do my duty and return to the station? Did I? Did I do what you thought I should do? Would you have gone to Mexico with a chick you arrested for passing bad checks? Would you have punched your partner in the face because he made you jump into Lake Michigan?"

He goes white, I swear to God, and says, "In point of fact, Ray, I did punch you in the face."

"Because I made you!" I toss my fork onto the plate. "You sure as hell didn't want to."

"And also, in point of fact, I did more than go to Mexico with a woman I'd arrested. I betrayed the trust of my friends, I nearly left with her."

Oh. Fuck. I didn't think. I guess I don't think a lot. Shit. I shouldn't be allowed out without a muzzle some days. "Okay, I didn't say that very well." Jesus, my voice is husky, that lump is the size of a grapefruit. "You're still better than most guys, Fraser, even if you are human, you don't get it. I think sometimes you don't know you bring out the good stuff in people, Fraser, that's all I meant." All of a sudden, I'm tired, really tired.

He's looking at me, really looking at me. "Ray, why are you upset?"

"You're unhinged," I tell him again. "I'll be right back." Because I swear to God, I'm gonna burst into tears. Maybe I've having a nervous breakdown or something.

I head for the men's room and stare at myself in the mirror. "The Mountie's not the only one unhinged, Kowalski," I tell myself, and then run the cold water. Maybe I did drink more than I thought last night, maybe it's leftover alcohol. The cold water feels good on my face, and on my eyes. I splash some more on it, then yank out a paper towel, wipe my face dry. When I get back to the table, Fraser's adding up the check to make sure it's right.

That's so Fraser it almost cheers me up. I slide back into my side of the booth. "Here, I'm buyin', I said I would."

He looks up from the bill. "Ray, that's not necessary, really."

I snatch the bill from him. "I know that, Fraser." The only thing that's a relief is that even if I am feeling a little more for him than any sane person would feel, I still wanna punch him sometimes.

Not that I would. Once was bad enough.

I head for the cash register, so he's got no choice.

He catches up with me there, gives me this worried look. "Ray, I apologize for snapping at you."

I shrug. "No big deal, Fraser. I don't always say things right."

He leans close. "Sometimes I don't listen well."

I look back at him, and our eyes lock. Just like that, click. And boy, my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth again.

Fraser moves and takes my change from the cashier, holds it out to me. I grab at it, drop a couple of coins, and Fraser bends down and gets them and it's over, whatever it was.

What did that mean, he doesn't listen well. And that look.

I manage to stuff the change in my pocket, and walk out without blowing a fuse, even though my jeans are a little uncomfortable. That look. Jesus.

Neither one of us says a thing on the way to the car. I unlock the passenger side, go around and unlock mine, get in.

"Ray," Fraser says, and his voice is real soft. "I truly am sorry. It's just that it's rather wearing sometimes not to be seen as human. It's an impossible standard."

I never thought of that before. That he might get tired of always having to people look at him that way.

He flicks at his eyebrows. "I realize that I have no one to blame but myself, I've applied that standard all my life to my own actions, but as I've gotten older, I find it sometimes difficult to breathe."

I look over at him. I get that. "Yeah, kind of like a strait jacket."

"Exactly." Intense look at me and our eyes lock. "Exactly, Ray. It was still very wrong of me to take out my frustration on you."

The knot in my stomach loosens even though our eyes are still locked. "It's okay, Fraser, just forget about it." Truth is, I don't know how I'm talking, the Mountie's focus is a little intense.

"You were clearly upset, Ray."

I shrug, but I can't look away, even though I really, really want to. "Seems like I keep puttin' my foot in it, Fraser, that's all." I can't believe I'm saying this, I can't believe that I'm hearing myself say it.

He reaches out, then, and I'm like one of those rabbits in Watership Down, just sort of hypnotized by the snare, watching that hand come toward me.

He's touching my face. Just lightly. "You aren't putting your foot into anything, Ray." Very softly. "I told you, there are times I don't listen as well as I ought."

Those fingertips feel hot, almost. And I know I'm leaning into that, and he's leaning forward. And I lean forward.

I'm trying to breathe, I mean, this is Fraser, he doesn't know what he's risking here, right? He doesn't know his whacked out partner has feelings for him. So I'm trying to breathe, give him time to realize what he's doing, and he's just looking into my eyes, and that's it, I lean forward the rest of the way and I kiss him.

Bam. Just like that.

I can't believe I did it. He jerks back a little, like that wasn't what he was expecting, so maybe he can't either.

I wonder if I can convince him that guys in Chicago do that all the time. Thank God, I didn't slip him any tongue.

And I still feel like that damn rabbit, I forget his name, staring at Fraser like I'm hypnotized.

He cracks his neck. "Ah, Ray, did you perhaps, ah, that is, did you intend to kiss me?"

I'm in full fledged panic. "It was an accident."

Eyebrow flicking. "An accident?"

Jeeez, Fraser, give me a break here, let me off the hook, please. "Um, yeah."

"Oh." Oh, shit, collar tugging. "Well. All right, then."

I fumble the keys into the ignition and start the car. If I wasn't so panicked, I'd probably be babbling, but all I can think about is that he's not going to want to work with me any more. I pull out of the parking lot a little faster than Fraser likes, but maybe if I get him back to the Consulate fast, he'll forget what just happened.

And pigs will fly.

"Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray." He's got his hand over my wrist. "Ray, it's all right."

He really is unhinged. "What's all right, Fraser?" Oh, yeah, my voice is higher, I'm definitely panicked. Worse than on the Henry Anderson. Allen. Whatthefuckever. "It's all right that I accidentally kissed you?"

"Well, of course, it would probably be better if you'd actually intended it, so I understand you're a bit disconcerted-"

I nearly drive over the curb. "It would be better if I'd actually intended it?"

He cracks his neck. "Well, from your point of view, I would imagine. Ray, please slow down."

"My point of view?" Christ, if my voice gets any higher, I'm going to sound like Frankie Vallee, or whatever the fuck his name is. "What about your point of view, Fraser?"

He cracks his neck in the other direction. "Well. Ah. I was certainly surprised, I admit, but I'm not upset, Ray."

I slam on the brakes hard enough he has to put his hand out against the dash. "What?"

He looks at me like he thinks he's dealing with a certifiable loon. "I said, I'm not upset, Ray, so please, calm yourself and slow down."

"I'm stopped, Fraser."

More eyebrow rubbing. "Ah, yes, of course you are."

Why don't I just take out my gun and shoot myself in the head now, I wonder. But instead of doing the smart thing, I open my mouth again. "So, if I did it on purpose, you wouldn't be upset."

He blinks at me. "Are you planning to?" Cautious tone.

"That's not the point." I punch the steering wheel. "The point is, would you be upset if I did it on purpose."

"No."

I put my forehead on the steering wheel. "I did it on purpose."

"I rather thought you had."

Yes, shooting myself is looking better and better. "So, you wanna quit being partners?"

He clears his throat. "Well, while I realize that this particular exchange of affection isn't precisely the usual-"

"Fraser, yes or no."

"No."

I go limp with relief. "Okay. That's good. That's great. And we're still friends."

"Yes."

Okay, now I really am close to bawling. But, I suck it up, keep my head on the steering wheel until I can stop shaking. Deep breaths, Kowalski. "Okay," I finally say and sit up. "I forgot where we were going."

"I'm not sure, you didn't tell me." He rubs his eyebrows again. "Are you sure you're, ah, calmer now? Because if you're not, I really must insist you let me drive."

"I'm good. I'm good." I put my hands on the wheel, take my foot off the brake. "Okay. So. You want me to take you back to the Consulate."

"Well, you did promise Dief that leftover pizza if he stayed in the car while we ate."

This, this is how whacked out I am. I forgot Dief was in the back seat. "Oh, shit, he didn't fall when I braked, did he?"

Fraser looks back at the back seat, and I hear a pissed off sort of whine. "Well, actually, he did slide off the seat." Apologetically. "I'm afraid he's a little miffed."

Great. The Mountie's okay, but the wolf is pissed. Okay, that I can deal with, I think. "Okay, my place, one leftover pizza coming up."

My place.

Too bad I left my gun there, I could just pull over and end it all right now.

So we get to my place, and I am totally hyper all over the place, giving Dief pizza, even though he gives me this totally whacked out imitation of Fraser's I'm-Disappointed-In-You look.

I make tea, and I can't even keep track of what I'm talking about, I'm talking so fast, and Fraser has this glazed look like he's not keeping up either.

And then he's got tea and I'm thinking it would be really nice if I just got totally drunk again, but I'm not gonna do it in front of Fraser, who would probably arrest me for something.

So I grab a can of soda and we sit at opposite ends of the couch and I turn on the television and we pretend to watch Dief eat pizza and, yeah, you got it, the World Fucking Series.

Fraser tolerates this for a while and then reaches for the remote, takes it away from me and turns off the television. "Ray, we should talk about this."

"Do we have to?" God, I'm whining. I put my head in my hands.

"You said it was deliberate, Ray."

I actually moan. "What do you want from me, Fraser? I know it was wrong, I know it crossed the line, way over the line. I thought you were just going to let it be, that you weren't upset."

"I want to know why."

He drives me fucking nuts sometimes. I raise my head and stare at him. "Are you unhinged?"

Double neck crackle this time. "Not that I'm aware, no."

"Why does anybody kiss anybody, Fraser? And let's leave brotherly affection and parents and all that shit out of it." I'm crazed, that's all, I can't believe we're having this conversation. I can't believe I fucking kissed my partner.

I mean, I was just getting used to checking him out.

"Affection. Desire." He seems to be thinking. "I suppose comfort belongs more to the familial level of kissing, which you don't want me to mention."

"Bingo." I slump over on my knees, let my head hang down. "Now, do I have to draw you a diagram?" I turn my head and look at him, partly upside down

Christ, more eyebrow rubbing. "It might be instructive," he admits. "Affection or desire?"

"Or both, Jeez, Fraser, do you think I'd do something that fucking stupid just to jump your ass?" I sit back up again, totally pissed on top of panic and everything else. "Do you think I'd wanna take a chance of wrecking our friendship and our partnership just because I got a hardon for red serge?"

"Of course not," he says instantly. "I'm just trying to understand what happened."

Kill me now, God, please. I look up at the ceiling and let myself fall down over my knees again. "I have feelings, okay? I just got crazy there for a minute, that's all. I was kind of upset about making you mad. And you touched my face, Fraser. That is so not a guy thing to do to another guy unless you mean something by it."

He looks startled, even half upside down. "Ray, I-"

"So that's it, yeah, affection and desire." I only thought I was tired before. Now I feel whipped.

He's quiet, thinking stuff over, everything behind his eyes and I don't know what all it is. "I think there's something I should tell you, then," he finally says. "I, too, am suffering a great deal of confusion with regard to my feelings for you, Ray."

I frown, sit up again. Stare at him. "Yeah?"

He nods, very solemn Mountie face. "I've been struggling with it for a while."

Okay, my heart kicks up to a higher rate. "You have?" Definitely Frankie Vallee time.

He nods again.

"So you touched my face on purpose like that?"

He frowns again. "Well, of course I touched you on purpose, Ray, I just don't think I was consciously thinking about what effect it might have."

I frown back. "Did you want me to kiss you?"

Uh oh. Collar tug, eyebrow rub, neck crack. "I don't believe I was consciously thinking about it, but-I may have been rather hoping you might take the decision out of my hands."

I stare at him. "That is not buddies, Fraser."

"Unconsciously," he adds quick. "Not consciously, Ray, I would never consciously set out to manipulate you that way. It wouldn't be honest."

I cool down a little. "Oh. Okay. Well." I crack my neck this time, God, he really does have me doing it, too. "That's different. I mean, you can't do much about your unconscious, right?"

"Well, you can always try to know yourself well enough that these things don't-"

"Fraser."

"Not generally, no."

We look at each other for a moment.

"So what do you wanna do about it?" He's got that focus on me again, and I can barely remember what we're talking about.

"I don't honestly know, Ray. I didn't anticipate the possibility that you had the same difficulty."

Difficulty. It's a difficulty, having feelings for me. Funny, even though I figured I was going off my nut, feeling this way, I never thought of it as a difficulty. Insanity, yeah. "So, you don't want to have these feelings."

He gives me that Now-Who's-Unhinged-Look. "Ray, that's silly, it's not a question of wanting or not wanting to have feelings, it's a question of-"

His logic drives me batshit. I get up and go into the kitchen, where there's a bottle of Scotch calling my name, dig it out of the cupboard, break the seal, find a glass, and pour.

Naturally, Fraser follows me in, watches all this with that little line between his eyebrows. That line gets deeper when I throw about half of the drink down. "Ray."

I point a finger at him. "Look, Fraser. It's this simple. I kissed you. Either it worked for you or it didn't. If it didn't, and you're not pissed at me, great. Perfect. As long as we're still friends, I don't wanna talk about it any more."

"Of course we're still friends," he says quick. "I thought I made that clear, Ray."

Beats the fuck out of me what he made clear, I don't understand any of it. I toss back the rest of the Scotch, and the burn feels good, all the way down to my toes. But his hand closes around my wrist when I reach for the bottle again, and we end up doing this weird little jockeying for position thing, because I really do not want to hit Fraser again, but he's pissing me off, and he's pushing me up against the counter.

"You don't need that." Okay, he's pissed again. I can deal with pissed Fraser, I guess, even though I don't like it. It's easier than dealing with Mr. Spock, chopping feelings into little bits and looking at them under a microscope.

"I'm over twenty-one, Fraser, and if I want a drink, I can have one," I tell him, and whoa, he's up close, right in my face, and for a minute, I wonder crazily if he's going to hit me.

"Of course, but you don't need it." One hand on my wrist, the other on my shoulder and he's really pissed and trying not to be.

"You don't know what I need," I tell him.

And then he kisses me. Just real gentle at first, and I freeze like that rabbit again, thinking this is some kind of Fraser politeness, or even worse, a Fraser experiment, and that's about all I have time to think because let me tell you, Fraser the Pure definitely knows how to kiss.

My mouth knows what to do, even if my brain is still playing catchup, and he's got his tongue halfway down my throat introducing itself to my tonsils, and that hand's not on my wrist anymore, it's on my ass.

Inside my jeans. Which, of course, I'm wearing commando, so Fraser's hand is spread out over one bare cheek.

I think Mr. Spock transported out, because either Fraser's carrying heat or he's awful glad to see me, and I can't help it, I press my hips into that and rub up against him like a damn dog.

He finally breaks away and says, kinda hoarse, "Is this what you want?"

"No," I tell him, kinda hoarse back, "I'm faking it, you freak."

That makes his mouth twitch a little. "Desire."

Except, dammit, the brain does some fucking stupid things sometimes. "Not if it's going to ruin things, I don't."

He looks a little surprised. "Ruin things?"

"We're friends, right?" What the hell is wrong with me, I have a turned on Mountie, I just figured out that I want a turned on Mountie, and I'm saying no? Kill me now, God, please, before I get any dumber. "Aren't we? For real?"

"Of course we are." Very gentle, and he loosens the death grip on my ass a little, strokes his thumb on it.

I shiver at that, but God, I'm scared anyway, scared and turned on and wondering what the fuck I'm doing here. "I don't wanna ruin that, Fraser. I mean, maybe I could stand it if we weren't partners, maybe. But I don't have a lot of friends, and I don't have any friends like you, and I don't want that fucked up." Christ, I'm whining.

He kisses my mouth real softly. "Ray, our awareness of our feelings is going to change things somewhat. It doesn't need to be for the worse." His mouth twitches again. "It might even be for the better."

I have to blink hard at that. "Yeah?"

He nods. "You're a pessimist."

"Tell me something I don't know."

Instead, he kisses me again, and that more or less turns me into one big nerve without a brain. When I can breathe again, I say, "Fraser, don't play with me, okay? This isn't easy, I'm not as tough on the inside as I am on the outside."

He draws back and studies me. "Tell me something I don't know, Ray." Affectionately.

Okay, I can dance to this, this works, and I kiss him back, I'm all over him like white on rice, like a cheap suit, like Frannie in one of her fantasies.

Poor Frannie. She's got no idea just how good a kisser the Mountie is. Never will have, if I've got anything to say about it.

"Ray," between kisses, "Ray. Ray. Ray!"

"What?" I pull back and God, he's flushed and his lips are kinda red from kissing and a little swollen, and he wants me to think? What's left to talk about?

"Slow. Down." But he's smiling a little.

Dief makes this sound and I look down and over and he's sitting there watching. "Fraser, the wolf's watching."

"Yes, well, he's curious." Fraser glances that way. "Very curious about human, ah, sexual behavior."

Whoa. Talk about a cold shower. "He wants to watch?"

"Probably."

"No way." I peel myself off Fraser and I can feel myself going seven shades of red. "I don't give free shows."

Little glint in Fraser's eyes. "So if he paid you-"

"Fraser."

"Understood." He's trying not to laugh, the freak. Doesn't bother him that the wolf wants to watch, I guess, but he's soft on the damn animal, like I said. He's got his hand out of my pants, but that hand slides down the outside seam of my jeans and two fingers slide in the tear. "You aren't wearing anything under these. Do you do that often?"

I'm looking down at his hand, and those fingers feel hot on my skin. Can't say I ever thought of the outside of my thigh as a hot zone, but I'm getting goosebumps from it. "Only when I run out of underwear or if I'm in a hurry."

He kisses me again, and I hear this ripping sound and Jesus Christ, he just tore that seam more, and he's got those fingers cupping my ass from underneath. I just about leap out of his arms when those fingers slide a little farther in, he's still got me braced against the counter, and Christ Jesus, he's getting awful damn frisky for a Mountie who never says damn.

"Jesus, Fraser, Dief's watching." I say.

"We're fully dressed," he points out.

Never knew the Mountie could be sly before now. But the counter is digging into my lower back and I tell him that.

So he slides his hand out, little finger pat to my ass, which is sorry to say goodbye, and lets go of me.

I'm hanging fire, couch or bed, and maybe Fraser has a point about taking things slow. "Couch."

He smiles at me again, oh, wow, a new Fraser smile, this isn't the Mountie smile or even the usual real Fraser smile. "If that's what you want, Ray."

"What do you want?"

Oh, Christ, those eyes. I practically whimper, and he doesn't say anything, so I grab his hand and tug him into the bedroom. Slam the door on Dief, who makes an aggravated sound, and push Fraser up against the door.

He laughs a little, but then gets real serious, real serious, and instead of being pushed against the door, he's walking me back toward the bed. I'm trying to undo the buttons of his shirt, and he's walking me backward, and then we're tangled up on my bed together and working at each other's clothes.

"I gotta tell you," I say, a little frantic, "I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I mean, I've done a little fooling around, back in college, but you have to tell me what feels good, Fraser, I'm not exactly the expert here."

"Understood." He's got my jeans open, nudges me to get me to lift up and then leans up and away and peels them off. Of course, I've still got my shoes on, so he makes an annoyed sound and deals with those, whips off the socks and the jeans and then I'm lying there in my ratty t-shirt and nothing else. "You have very long legs," he says and holy shit, I should have known, he's using that tongue on me. The insides of my knees, the insides of my thighs, and I'm just stunned stupid, can't figure out how to get hold of him again, or if just lying there is good enough. Hot and silky and he's working his way up in that singleminded Mountie way, and Christ Jesus, he pushes my legs farther apart and his tongue is on my balls. I pull my knees up, let them fall open and my brain is fried, I'm making these noises I don't remember making ever in my life.

Jesus, that mouth, and I swear he's licking me from the base of my spine to my cock, and then when he licks my cock, I'm so close I grab his hair, scared I'm just going to go off like a fifteen year old kid copping his first feel. "Waitwaitwait."

He raises his head, looks at me, a little blurry. "What?"

"You have all your clothes on," I whimper. "'S not fair, Fraser."

He thinks about that, gives my cock a nice long lick and sits up. Thank God he's wearing civvies, if he was wearing that uniform, the wait would kill me. I lean up enough to strip off my t-shirt, and when I get it off, I have to stare.

Never seen Fraser naked before. Hardly ever even saw him half-dressed. But he's getting naked now, and Jesus, look at him. I finally risk reaching out to touch him, smooth skin, all satiny. There's women would kill to have skin like that. Rosy nipples, I swear, and when I rub one of them, he grabs my wrist, brings my hand up to his mouth, and sucks in my index finger.

Hot, wet, and it goes straight to my dick, I moan and try to pull him down, but he's still getting his jeans off and puts his hand in the middle of my chest to hold me down.

He's fucking gorgeous. Firm, full ass, nicely muscled, and a faint treasure trail leading down to that amazing cock. I get my fingers wrapped around that, saying a nice hello, how are you, and it leaps in my fingers, saying hello back. Nice and thick, but not like a porn freak, not scary, and the skin is hot and stretched under my fingers.

Nice to know he's feeling it, too. Guys can't lie about that, they can't fake it, and then his mouth is on mine again and we're belly to belly, and I have to free my hand so we can rub up against each other. He grinds me into the bed, and his weight feels weird, he's heavier than me, but it's a good kind of weird.

This is Fraser, who risks my life in wildly bizarre ways, who's my friend. God, I love this guy, I'm in so deep I'm drowning, and what the fuck, he's not exactly showing indifference here even if neither of us exactly talked about what our feelings are.

We're guys, after all.

But I'm saying it with my fingertips and my mouth, I hope, and he tastes good, he feels good, and it's like, Jesus, I don't know what. Like coming home. Like something I remember from a dream, I don't know.

We're in the groove, that's all, and I wrap my legs around his, trying to get closer, because the pleasure's burning a hole through my brain. I wanna melt into his skin, I want to get closer yet, and he's got the rhythm, Fraser does, imagine that, he leans up on his elbows and rocks and rolls against me, and seeing him above me is partly what tips me over the edge. It starts practically at the soles of my feet and my toes curl and I'm pushing hard into his belly and Christ, exploding against him, and I hear him groan out my name, one long sound, and there's slippery heat and wet between us, and oh, Christ, I'm sensitive, he slides against me a couple more times and I'm dying of pleasure, it's too much.

And then he's kissing my mouth again, not quite as hungry, but still deep, and I could stay here for the rest of my life, fuck the world, and dammit, Dief barks outside the bedroom door.

Fraser lifts his head and sighs. "You pay and pay and pay," he growls.

I start laughing, I can't help it, and I lean up to kiss him. "I'll get him a bigger pizza next time."

"You will not," he says and kisses me back.

We're a mess, sticky and sweaty, and I use my t-shirt for cleanup and he gets up finally and goes to the bedroom door. "I don't interrupt your assignations," he tells Dief sternly. "And no, it's not all that different, allowing for human anatomy."

Dief whines.

"Don't be ridiculous," Fraser tells him.

Do I wanna know? Probably not. So I roll up on one side and prop my head on my hand, watch him walk back. He's still flushed, and his cock is still a little thick and reddened, and he looks incredible. He sits down on the bed, rubs his thumb over my eyebrow and smiles at me. "You're all right?"

"Never better," I tell him, and flop on my back. "You?"

He kisses me again in answer. "We'll work it through, Ray."

I'm not exactly sure what that means, but hey, it sounds optimistic. "Okay. You wanna stay tonight? Tomorrow's Sunday."

Faint smile. "It usually follows Saturday, yes." He rubs my eyebrow again. "If that's what you really want, Ray, I'd be happy to stay."

"That's what I want," I tell him solemnly.

"Then move over."

We'll work it through, I tell myself, and that's how I end up sleeping with a Mountie spooned around me.

Crossing the line. Not so bad after all.

End Crossing the Line by anonymous co: JimPage363@aol.com

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