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:

This story is a sequel to: Edge of the World

• Home is Where the Mountie Is ***

Home is Where the Mountie Is

I sleep most of the flight to Yellowknife, which is good, because small planes scare the living shit out of me. I drool on Fraser, naturally, which is embarrassing as hell, but he just laughs. We catch a flight from Yellowknife to Edmonton, and from Edmonton to Chicago, and Dief is all kinds of pissed off because he has to do that vet examination thing again. Majorly pissed off, but Fraser has his vaccination papers and it's done pretty quick.

We take a cab to the Consulate, and I call my dad.

He brings the car over, but when he sees me, he just goes white. Boy, I must look worse than I thought. This time, when I go to hug him, he grabs me hard. "What happened to you?"

"I got sick up north, Dad. That's why we came back. I'm okay now, I'm good, I just have to put some weight back on." I pat my stomach, trying to make a joke of it.

Fraser's standing by with his arms folded, that serious Mountie face on. "Pneumonia," he tells my dad, who is looking pretty damn horrified. "I believe he started with a simple cold, then developed bronchitis as a secondary infection, which then shifted to pneumonia."

My dad stares at him a minute, and then nods, kind of grim. "You sure you're okay to drive, son?"

"I'm good, Dad." I hug him again. "Thanks, Dad. I'll give you a ride home."

"No, no, that's all right, your cousin Tom followed me in, I figured you'd be tired." He looks at Fraser again, kind of funny. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him."

Fraser nods, looking a little uncomfortable. I walk my dad out to the car, shake hands with my cousin Tommy, and he's looking at me like I'm death walking. I go back into the Consulate and into the john there, and look in the mirror. Okay, my hair's a little off kilter, it's a little too long, and a little too depressed, but I figure that just takes a trim and some style, and I'm good to go. "Do I really look that bad?" I ask Fraser.

He looks at me judiciously. "I think it's hard for me to judge, Ray. I don't think so, but I saw you when you were the sickest. I think you're actually looking much healthier."

Christ. I go back and stare at my face. Shake my head and come back out. "Boxes. Bags. Whatever. I know you aren't exactly the material guy, Fraser, I bet we can get it all into the car."

He eyes me, but his mouth is curving. "Are you sure you're up to this, Ray?"

"Fraser, you are the original travel light guy." I stand my ground.

He grins. "Right you are."

I love it when he says that. Even when he's ribbing me.

So we get back to my apartment, and it's dusty and musty and I'm wiped by the time we get Fraser's stuff hauled up. Not that he has that much, but hey, I'm easily wiped lately.

So, he takes the keys and goes to get some food that isn't growing strange things on it, and I haul everything out to the dumpster that shows any signs of life. By the time he gets back, I'm lying on the couch sort of dozing with Dief, who is still sulking about the vet at customs. I wake up a little when Fraser comes back in, but he shakes his head at me when I start to sit up. So, I lie back and just drift, listening to the sounds from the kitchen, and I'm about half under when he comes to sit on coffee table.

"Mmmm?" I manage to peel my eyelids open.

"I thought you might be tired enough that soup would do," he says, and leans in to kiss me.

Truth is, I'm not hungry at all, but I push myself up and take the mug he brought in. Clam chowder, and the first taste does wake my appetite up a little. "S'good," I tell him sleepily. "You gonna eat something?"

"Oh, yes." He cups my face with one hand, and gives me that soft smile again "Not to worry."

"Okay. Come and eat with me."

That gets me another kiss. You know, right now I'm so whipped I couldn't get it up with Viagra, and that's okay. He wants to be here anyway. Heh. Believe me, I'd like to get it up, but even if I did, he's such a damn watchdog, he'd probably make me take a cold shower. So, I turn on the TV and we settle down on the couch together, and I manage most of the soup before I'm just plain zoned out on his chest.

We're still here, still together, we made it through one hellacious case and halfway into an adventure, or maybe less, and he keeps telling me he's where he wants to be. I know he's where I want him to be, but I have to admit, if he'd gotten transferred up there&.

Maybe that would have been home, too.

"So how hard is it to become Canadian, Ben?" I ask sleepily, during one of the times I surface.

"Hmm? It's very easy, Ray. Step one: Get a big hat. Step two: Lick electrical sockets."

Why does that sound vaguely familiar. I remember then and start laughing, even half-awake. "I don't know, I'm not sure about that tongue-electricity thing, Ben."

He laughs. "I don't know, Ray, I think your tongue is fairly electric."

"Oh, great, talk dirty to me when I'm down for the count." I nuzzle into his shirt, and yawn. "Let's go to bed."

He's rubbing the back of my neck. "I think I should put clean sheets on, Ray. Those are bound to be rather musty."

I sigh. "On the other hand, we could just sleep here."

"I'd have to get you another badge." He kisses the top of my head, and I push myself up and trail after him.

Fraser knows where the clean sheets are. Now why the hell would that turn me on? Well, sort of turn me on, like I said, I'm not even Viagra would work right now. He's not crazy about the fitted sheets, but I told him once that was a little too compulsive even for an unhinged Mountie, so he makes a point not to comment when I grab the other corners and tug them over. We get the bottom sheet on, and I sprawl across it, my feet on the floor. He just continues making me into the bed, which cracks me up, and I'm lying there cackling under the sheet and bedspread when he's done.

I think it's the first time I've cut loose and laughed like that since before we started tracking Muldoon. He pulls the covers off me and stretches out, runs his fingers through my hair, making it stand on end, just smiling the way he does. Kisses along my hairline, and I'm still laughing a little, just little riffs I can't quite stop, and then I lean into his mouth and kiss him back.

God. Who knew? All that worrying and sweating and grief over nothing, because I wasn't paying attention. I wrap my arms around his neck and maybe I'm better off than I thought physically, because this feels good, way good, and I'm getting little jolts all the way down my spine because he feels so good.

Got his weight on me, now, even though he's up on his elbows, and he's got about fifteen gazillion different kinds of kisses and he's trying 'em out one at a time. He was worried, he says, in that understatement way, and even if it's lame and needy, that warms me up right down to my bones. I know what he means, I think, I know how I'd have felt if it had been him.

I love the way he tastes, love the beard stubble under my tongue when I lick his jaw down to his throat, and he tilts his head back and lets me. Messy Mountie, one of the gazillion kinks I keep discovering, Messy Mountie, and Alpha Mountie, and wild out of control Mountie, and tender Mountie, and Jesus, how sappy does that sound?

So we're kinda halfway fooling around and he shifts over and starts undressing me little by little, and I let him, even though he's not letting me return the favor. Warm mouth on my belly, but he's not taking my temp, I don't think, not with that tongue in my belly button, and down on the flat of my hip.

Whoa, look at that, my dick is alive, or at least awake, I look down to make sure I'm not imagining the signs of life, and Fraser licks it and nope, no imagining there. I put my fingers in his hair and tug. He lifts his head and gives me this look, kind of like he's just mildly curious what I want. "Get naked. Now."

Wicked grin, and he gets off the bed, strips down in nothing flat. Thank God for civvies, that's all I can say, because it's been weeks, for real weeks, not just feels like weeks, and oh, man, naked feels better than I remember. I'm a little too tired for a lot of wrestling, but having him against me is good, it's great, and his dick is hard against my thigh, and mine, well, I'm pushing into his fist, and I tug his head down to kiss me hard and long. When I need air, I pull back and say, "Do me."

He tilts his head back, looks down at me through half-closed eyes. "Isn't it my turn?" Mild tone.

"Don't give me attitude, Ben, you know I don't have that kind of energy." I reach down for his dick and grasp it. "I'm conva-whatever."

"Convalescing," he says, and smirks. Kisses me again. "Are you sure you have the energy for any-"

"Fraser." Warning him.

He grins.

The lube is still in the drawer, he gets it out and I squeeze some slickness on his fingers, and then he's kissing me again, and touching me everywhere with one hand while the slippery fingers are working into me. I swear, he worries too much, he uses enough I could take two of him, but it feels good, feels great, and it has been a while.

This time I get rolled over on my belly, a pillow underneath, and when I make a noise like a complaint, he licks my ear. "Less strain."

"For who?" I grumble, mostly because I like seeing his face, strain or not, but then he's pressing against me, hot and thick and slow and steady, and oh, hell, who cares, it's Ben and that's what really matters to me, this connection, this&God, feeling him inside. Being inside him's like another kind of knowing, and him inside me, God. It's more than just the grip of his body on my dick, or vice versa, it's like getting inside what makes him Fraser, or letting him inside me, and he slides in slow and I push back up against him, panting through the burn and stretch.

When I'm doing him, he likes it hard and fast, likes me just to push in, and at first, it was scary, I was scared shitless I was going to hurt him and turn him off, and he wasn't letting me back out. I guess he knows me pretty damn well, because I like this, I like him letting me wait until my body gets used to that thickness, I like him waiting for me to start pushing back hard before he really lets loose. I like the sparks to start, that need to shove back against him before we start moving together, and wow, I may be whipped, but I'm not dead, and maybe I'm not totally frisky, but we're moving together now, I can feel that thick cock pushing in, pulling back, and Christ Jesus, if everybody knew how good this felt I figure there'd be a lot of converts.

He gets his arms under me, one across my chest so I'm getting hugged hard, and one farther down, so slippery fingers fold around my cock, which is perking up again. Always goes a little soft when he's getting inside, always perks up when those sparks start. I've got my face against the sheet, and my arms braced against the mattress and we're moving a little faster. Kisses and nips on the back of my neck and shoulders, and on the side of my throat and jaw, and he's covering me.

Wow, is he covering me. Backup, I think and start to kind of gasp and laugh. "Oh, Jesus, that's good."

"Yes," he breathes, "God, yes, Ray, so good." Humping into me.

I try to imagine, like I usually do, how it looks, his cock in me, me all stretched around it, and like always, it cranks the heat up, just thinking about that, and his fingers feel so good around me, and we've got the rhythm just right. Back into the push of his dick, forward into the slippery grasp, and it's like dancing, I told him he could dance just fine horizontal, and I wasn't wrong, he does, he is&.

I come hard, gasping and babbling, and then he shoves in a few more times and groans out my name, and it's just so damn good I can't even breathe for a minute, which sort of chills the mood, because that worries him and we end up lying on our sides while I convince him I'm fine.

"Jesus, it always takes me a minute to get my breath, Ben," I snark.

"Yes, well, at this point, that's not good." He's not mad, he's kind of half-smiling, and he kisses me.

He's got a point, but he worries too damn much, and when I tell him that, he shuts me up by kissing me pretty damn hard, and I forget the mood got chilled. A little cleanup and we're wrapped around each other, and I'm sinking fast. My mind doesn't want to turn off, though.

We're here. Together. Home. This isn't just my place any more. I nudge him. "Hey."

"Hmmm?" Sleepy sound.

"This bed okay? You want, we can get a bigger one."

He's quiet for a minute, like he's trying to figure out what the hell I just said. "This bed is fine, Ray."

"Or sheets, you know, we could get the kind you like." I know what I'm trying to say, but like always, I can't quite find the right way to say it. "You know, or whatever. We can use your blankets."

He sighs. Kisses the back of my neck. "The sheets are fine, Ray, and it's nearly summer, we'll put my blankets on when it starts to get cold. I love you, now go to sleep."

Okay. He got it. Great. Greatness. I settle down again. "Ben?"

Another sigh. "What?"

"You listen just fine."

That gets me another kiss and he tightens his arms before I sink all the way under.

Yeah. We're home.

Of course, I have to see a doctor, according to the Mountie, and since I haven't been to the doctor in forfuckingever, we have to figure out who to see, and that takes a couple of calls around before we can find one to make an appointment, and then I go into the station to tell Welsh I'm back, put me back on the roster, and when I walk up to Frannie's desk she stares at me like she's seeing a ghost.

"Ray." Big eyes. "Ray."

She keeps that up, she's going to sound like Fraser. "That's my name, Frannie. How ya doin?"

She swallows hard. "Um, I'm fine. When did you get back?"

"Yesterday. Lieutenant Welsh in?" I crane my neck, see him in his office. Alone. Cool. "There he is, I'll talk to you later, Frannie."

She's still staring at me with great big eyes. I don't get it, but I knock on Welsh's door, stick my head in. "Hey, Lieutenant."

He stares at me a minute. Blinks. "Kowalski! When the hell did you get back?"

"Yesterday," I tell him. "Got a minute? Thought I better straighten out my job, now that I'm back." Welsh was kind of pissed when I called and told him I was taking vacation, paid or unpaid.

He beckons me in, and I sit down on the chair in front of his desk. "You look like hell," he says bluntly. "What happened up there?"

I wave my hand vaguely. "Dumb, I got sick. Fraser and me, we're going to give it a shot next year."

He nods, but he's still studying me. "You hear from anybody while you were up there?"

"Nope." I shrug. "Didn't expect to. So, do I still have a job? Or is Vecchio back in place, and I gotta transfer out?"

He blinks at me again, rubs his chin. "Vecchio retired on disability. Golden bullet."

I sit up a little straighter. "Hey, he's okay, right? The docs said he was going make it, before we took off after Muldoon." I mean, I may have some hot buttons when it comes to Vecchio, but he's not a bad guy. Can't be, not if Fraser considers him a friend.

"He's fine, he's fine." Welsh waves back. "He's fine. Moved to Florida." And then he gives me a funny look. "He, ah, he and your ex-wife got married."

Whoa. I stare at him, waiting for him to tell me it's a joke, feeling kind of&well, weird. Kind of numb. Like I don't feel anything. And then it hits me, it is a joke, in a way, because Stella hooked up with Fraser's former partner, and I hooked up with Vecchio's former partner, and it's all I can do not to crack up. "Oh," I say. "That's kind of an odd couple, but hey, if it makes Stella happy."

He looks surprised at that. Guess he figured I was going to go apeshit or something and thought he'd better get it out of the way fast. "Ah. Well, yeah. Okay, yeah, I had you down on personal leave, but that's no biggie. You sure you're well enough to get back to work?" Narrows his eyes at me.

I shrug. "Gotta get the all clear, got a doctor's appointment tomorrow." I'm a little embarrassed. "I'm still a little whipped, to tell the truth."

He nods after a minute. "So, if you don't get the clear, we'll put you on sick time, no problem. Get your ass healthy again, Kowalski."

I grin. "Three bags full, sir."

"Get outa here. Hey, what happened to Fraser? He stay up there? Thatcher was saying they'd get any assignment they wanted."

Oh. I have to handle this right. "Yeah, well, I guess they're still not thrilled with him up there, he's still stuck in Chicago."

He gives me a long look. "Hmm. Well, the two of you do good work, so I guess that's good for Chicago."

I shrug, wondering what the hell he's thinking. Don't ask, don't tell. "We're like one of those duets, one-two punch," I say, running on automatic.

He nods. "Out. Get yourself healthy again."

I pretend to salute, and I'm gone. Frannie's not at her desk, so I can't ask her if my desk is still mine, but I head on over to say hey to some of the other guys in the bullpen, and I swear to God, it's like they thought I was dead or something.

The whole thing is weird, and finally Huey says, kind of cautious. "You, ah, heard about your ex-wife, right?"

"And Vecchio?" I crack my neck. "Yeah. No accounting for taste, I guess. She gets rid of one flatfoot and takes on another."

"But this one wears a suit," Dewey says and Huey gives him a look.

"Not running a bowling alley," says somebody else.

"A bowling alley?" If it's a joke, I don't get it.

"They, uh, bought a bowling alley." Huey looks like he's turning red, his dark skin goes a little darker.

"A bowling alley?" I can't believe it. I can't believe that's what Stella wants out of life. "If he doesn't treat her right&." The words come out before I can stop them, and everybody looks relieved, like I'm acting normal. I bite down, shake my head to clear it. I do mean it, Vecchio better treat her right or I'll kick him in the fucking head. Among other places.

She might be my ex and I might be over her and I might be happier than I think I deserve, but that doesn't mean I don't care about what happens to her. I scowl at all of them, they all look more relieved, and then I'm out of there.

I swing by the Consulate before I head home. It's heading on toward noon, and I figure maybe he can get free for lunch. The minute I walk in, though, he gives me this warning look, so I stay very very low key, introduce myself as politely as I can to the new junior member, a squeaky clean, barely old enough to shave Mountie, Constable Munro.

A suit comes out while I'm doing that, a guy who looks about Thatcher's age and acts about sixty, and Fraser practically comes to attention. I get properly introduced to, get this, Cecil Rutherford-Hays. I think I liked the Ice Queen better, I get this vibe off Cecil that tells me major nitpicking asshole, and sure enough, he tells me that lunch hour for the Consulate isn't until one, so I'll have to come back later. He's not bad looking, except for that stick up his ass.

I nod politely to him when he tells me to come back at one, but when he goes back into his office, I bare my teeth. The baby Mountie's eyes widen and he skitters away, muttering something about forms.

Fraser just looks at me, one corner of his mouth twitching. "I miss Inspector Thatcher already," he mutters.

"Me, too. Okay, I'll see you about one? Or should I just hang around and annoy him."

Eyebrow rub, neck crack. "One, please." Firm tone.

I grin, make myself scarce and do some shopping. Flat sheets, just to make Fraser grin. A real teakettle. A real teapot. One of those little ball thingies for the teapot. Loose tea. Jesus, you'd think I just got married or something.

Heh.

I put the bags in the trunk and head on back to the Consulate, but this time I figure I'll wait outside until one on the dot. So I'm leaning against the car, enjoying late April sunshine, and I hear somebody yell.

Looking down the street, I see why, purse snatcher, and I'm off. Dumb. Like what's his name dogs, drooling at the bell. But I feel that old adrenaline rush, and I'm after the kid, pounding along the sidewalk like crazy, and bam, I tackle him, scrape the shit out of my face on the sidewalk, and even though I took my badge in when I went in to the station, I don't have cuffs, so I have the kid's arms behind him when Dief and Fraser and the baby Mountie pound up after me.

Munro looks confused and Fraser looks mildly pissed, and neither one of them have their hats, which means Fraser saw me from the window, I guess. I grin cockily at them. "Don't have cuffs with me." Wheezing a little, and boy, now I can feel why this wasn't a great idea, completely aside from the scrape on my face.

Dief growls at the purse snatcher.

The kid is a little dazed, and aside from saying fuck a couple of times, he's not saying squat.

"Do you have your cellphone?" Fraser is definitely pissed.

"Left it with Frobisher, up north."

Munro whips out a pair of cuffs, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from making a smart ass comment. Well, not really. I'm feeling kind of wobbly now the adrenaline's gone, and so I just follow Munro and Fraser and the perp back after we give the lady back her purse. She's got to make a statement, of course, and we wait around for a squad car, and yadda yadda.

So I'm sitting on the Consulate steps, calling myself twenty different lousy names, because I don't think Cecil is going to let Fraser take his lunch hour late, and I give Fraser an apologetic look, or try to.

He's not pissed any more, so far as I can tell, although he's being real formal in front of the Consulate. Cecil comes out after a while, probably to find out where most of his staff is, and Fraser has to go and explain.

So the squad car finally cuts us loose, and Fraser gives me a kind of sad look, and I nod. "Six," he says quietly.

I sigh and nod, and head on home. I get all the stuff hauled into the apartment, and crash and burn.

I'm drooling on the couch when the phone rings, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I scramble for it, checking the clock on the VCR. Fuck, 5:46, I'm late, and when I answer the phone, it's Fraser.

"I'm sorry, I'm gonna be late," I say, practically the first thing out of my mouth. "I fell asleep."

"Did you? Good." He doesn't sound upset at all. "I thought you might. Not to worry, I've got a few things to finish up, there's no rush."

I'm shaky from waking up so quick, and I sit down on the arm of the couch. "You wanna get something to eat? Or eat here?"

"I'll have to think about it," he says.

I'm good with that, so we say goodbyes, and I head out. He's waiting when I get there, takes a look at me, and says, "Switch."

I blink at him for a minute, then get it, and hell, okay, if that's the worst he has to say to me after this afternoon, I'm good. So I let him drive back. Dief doesn't care one way or another, he sticks his tongue in my other ear and I have to push him off. I ruffle his ears to show no hard feelings, but he settles back and sulks.

"I think I'd rather eat at home," Fraser says, and pats my leg once we're out in traffic.

"How was Cecil?" I ask him.

He gives me a sideways look, and I can tell he'd like to laugh. "Punctilious in the extreme. Still, I think we'll do well enough working together."

"You are still allowed to work with me, right?" I feel my stomach knot up. "We're still partners, right?"

He looks sideways at me again. "Yes, Ray, I am. I did manage to, ah, convince the powers that be that this is a beneficial arrangement for both our countries."

I'm such a needy fuck. I put my hand over his. "Good." And my stomach unknots again. "We could order pizza in."

"Or I could cook something." He grins at me again.

I look at him suspiciously. "As long as it isn't musk ox."

"I'm not sure that it's possible to get musk ox in the local grocery, Ray."

Right.

When we get home, he goes first to shed the uniform and I follow him in. I need to get back to work, I tell myself and stretch out on the bed to watch him.

He knows I'm watching, smiles a little as he hangs up the tunic. Mr. Neat, but that's okay. I'm not, he is, we'll meet in the middle, and I guess that's what we've been doing all along. "Home."

He looks at me again, arches one eyebrow. "Yes?"

I grin. "This is your home."

His eyes change and he comes to the bed, stretches out beside me. "Yes." And then he kisses me. Gentle kiss, and then he rubs his fingertips on my stubble. "Why do you think I asked to come back to Chicago."

I look at him. "I could have stayed in Canada."

Oh, wow, if I'd known the words would have this kind of effect, I'd have said them twice a day up there. More. I'm getting seriously kissed and held down and seriously kissed some more.

He finally lets go of me, and I swear to God, his eyes are freaking shining. "If you had done that, your career would have been disrupted. And mine, well, I can serve here as well, Ray, as I can there."

Okay, so I return the favor, holding him down and kissing him hard. "You promise me one thing, Ben. Chicago starts to make you crazy, you tell me. We'll-" I grin suddenly. "We'll switch."

Man, he looks like someone just lit him up from inside. "Fair enough."

If I were Dief, I'd be wriggling happily. Hell, I'm not Dief and I'm wriggling happily. That light inside him is fucking amazing, and I'm not even sure why it's there.

He gets up again, gets rid of the rest of his uniform and puts on jeans. I follow him out to the kitchen and when he sees the teapot and the kettle, he gets the most infuckingcredible smile on his face. I get grabbed again, not that I'm complaining, and boy, I must be the world's neediest asshole, because I'm eating that up.

Of course, he promptly fills the teakettle with water and puts it on the stove.

We end up making dinner together, which is weird and kind of nice, in a way. I can cook, it's just-what's the point when I can get something for myself on the way home. I did a lot of the cooking when Stella was finishing law school, and when she joined the District Attorney's office, but it wasn't near as much fun as working together like this.

Partners. Heh. Never thought it would go all the way to the kitchen, but we throw together a kind of pasta dish that I swear Fraser got from Turnbull.

It's good, too, and just to make him happy, I have some salad, and to make me happy, we make some garlic toast.

Dief's still ignoring me, so I bribe him with what's left on my plate and Fraser objects, but not really, and then he tells me about Cecil and the baby Mountie while we clean up.

He laughs when I say that. "He's twenty-seven, Ray."

I roll my eyes. "Then I'm getting old, because he doesn't look old enough to shave."

"That could certainly be true. You're, what, a year younger than I am?"

I give him a look. "I'm ageless."

"You're thirty-seven." He grins again, hands me another dish to put in the dishwasher.

"God, I'm not either, I won't be thirty-seven for another couple of months." I scowl at him.

"Oh, of course." He's laughing at me. "Well, I'll be thirty-eight."

God, we are getting old. Took this long to find him, I want us to live forfuckingever.

Man has something on his mind, I figure out, when he steers me from the kitchen into the bedroom. Heh. No complaints here, but the first thing he does is examine that scrape on my face.

I know him well enough that I say, "Not the stinky stuff, Ben."

He grins a little. "Neosporin, then."

"I guess." He goes to the bathroom and comes back. I didn't even know I had any, but he dabs it on carefully. Like I said, he has gentle hands. I like those hands. I like them on me a lot. Even when we're not actually fooling around, I like them on me.

"You're something," I tell him, and he looks at me, a little worried. "No, it's a good something."

"Ah." He dabs a little more on. "What brings that on?"

"Your hands. I wanted those hands on me for a long time, I think, before I knew I did."

He actually turns a little pink at that. "I suspect the reverse is true as well."

"Cool."

He leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth. "I think so." Smiling a little. "Take off your jeans."

I stand up and start unzipping. "I'm all over that idea, Ben."

He laughs. "Insatiable."

"I'm making up for all the time we didn't know each other and all the time we weren't doing this." I drop the jeans and he reaches for the waistband of my shorts, tugs me between his knees. Warm mouth on my belly for a minute, but then he pushes me back a little and takes a look at my legs.

I get it. "Hey, my legs are fine. There's another part of me that wouldn't mind some attention."

He laughs, tugs me back onto the bed with him. "That part of you always likes attention." Comfortable voice, and he puts his hand against me through my shorts.

Oh, yeah, that feels good. "And you don't?" I wiggle around until I get my thigh between his legs and press up a little.

"No, that part of me is downright greedy for attention," he admits and slides his hand up under my shirt. "I just wanted to be sure you hadn't scraped anything else."

"You worry too much." I kiss his eyelids. The skin feels fragile there, delicate, and quivers a little when my mouth touches it. No wonder he likes to do that to me, I think, and do it again. "I had pneumonia, nothing wrong with my legs."

"I do worry too much," he agrees. "I'm afraid I'm very needy, Ray, and I was terribly afraid of losing you when you were ill."

He's needy? The hell. I kiss his mouth though, long and slow, just to let him know it's okay. "Just don't get crazy on me, Ben buddy. I still gotta be a cop."

"Understood."

Hey, worrying about me when I'm sick as a dog is okay, but we can't get nuts about the every day things. It's not going to be easy "And if you're needy, what does that make me?" I bite him on the chin lightly.

He smiles a little. "Courageous?"

"You're missing the point," I tell him patiently. "You aren't the only one." I think he's trying not to laugh at me. I give up and start working on his jeans. "I'm a needy bastard, myself, so don't even go there."

He does laugh then. That's okay, he's also lifting his ass off the bed so I can get his jeans off. "You're insatiable, not needy."

"All part of the same thing," I tell him and slide my hand under his shirt, lean down and lick my way into his mouth. Yeah, I'm getting good at that licking thing, really good, and I can tell he thinks so from the way he says my name when I leave his mouth and start working my way down. He moves underneath me and combs his fingers through my hair, sighing.

I put my head on his stomach, smile up at his chin. I'm not feeling quite as lively as I'd like to be, but this is nice. He keeps finger-combing my hair, shifts a little to the side so he can look at me. "Hi," I tell him.

"Hi yourself." He rubs my forehead with his thumb. "You didn't say, what happened at the station?"

"As soon as I get the all clear from the doc, Welsh is puttin' me back to work." I nuzzle his belly again. "Sounds crazy, but it'll be good to be back at work."

"Particularly when your vacation ends up more or less in hospital." His hand shifts to the side of my head, he starts tracing my ear right over the little scar where Kuzma bit me, which tickles. I tell him that, and he gives me a wicked grin. "Tickles, does it?"

No way are we going here, I decide and basically scramble up to straddle him. "Watch it, Ben buddy, or you get hit with another dead otter."

He pretends to wince. "Anything but that, Ray. It was bad enough the first time."

So I lean down and tug his shirt down, kiss the scar. God, I'm lame. "You never told me how that happened exactly."

"It's a long story." He pulls me down. "And really very tedious."

He says that, yeah. Broke his leg jumping from a cliff. Got knifed in the thigh. Shot in the back. We both have scars, and not all of them are on the outside, but you know, I feel like the inside ones are doing a lot better these days. I don't even have to ask him if he really wants to be here, not the way he acts here, loose and relaxed and kidding around. Damn fine, you ask me. A Mountie loosened up and messy is the Mountie I like to see. Good thing the loosened up Mountie likes to see me, I have to say. Even better he likes to see me naked and vice versa.

I still don't get why he gets so turned on by my scrawny ass, but hell if I'm going to complain. Makes me feel pretty damn good to be looked at the way Dief looks at donuts. And he's looking at me like that when I get out of my clothes and into bed. We both taste like toothpaste, which is weirdly sexy, and I know it's just because it's that home thing, and even if we're not exactly wild in the streets, it's still good, making out and getting turned on. Fact, if I look at myself close, it's one of the things I missed about being married.

Hot and new and wild is good. But you know, sweet and slow and familiar is good, too, and it does something to me inside knowing that we're going to have that. We have time, lots of it. And Benton Fraser isn't the kind of guy to make this kind of decision on the spur of the moment. He wants to be here, and I want him here, and even though I'm a little on the tired side, I want him on the end of my cock. It's his turn, after all, and even if I'm a selfish pig, I like giving him what he wants, too.

Smooth hot skin, and he's got a sensational ass, and even though I got a little freaked the first time I did him-hey, I was scared I was going to hurt him and turn him off and screw things up-he is definitely into it, as much as I am. I like teasing him, I like finding that sweet spot when I'm getting him ready, and seeing his face go all dazed and hot, and that's exactly what I'm doing, stroking more lube in and hearing his breath catch, and I kiss the side of his hip. Warm skin under my mouth and I lick him, taste him, and he shifts, arches his hips up and pushes into my fingers. I track my mouth over his belly, take hold of his cock and lick the tip, take it between my lips, all bitter-salty and slippery and I fucking love the taste of him. Love it, love it.

He moans and arches up again, and I pull my fingers out, let his cock slip out of my mouth and kneel between his legs. God, I can't look at his face for minute or I won't last more than a minute, swear to God.

Careful, slow slide in, but wouldn't you know it, the Mountie has that automatic muscle thing down and he won't let me wait, he pulls me down and into him and we're kissing and he's saying hello to each and everyone of my teeth while I'm trying to catch my breath from how infuckingcredible it feels to be inside him.

If it feels like this to him when he's fucking me, it's a wonder his head doesn't explode, I swear to God mine will one of these days, I'll just fucking stroke out from pleasure overload and die. I'm trying to take it slow, but he doesn't want it slow, he likes it harder than he'll ever give me, and it's just wiping my brain clean, seeing his face, feeling him fuck my fist while I fuck him.

I lose this race, it's white heat starting at my toes and then I'm slamming into him a lot harder than I mean to, and I'm yelling his name, and that sends him off, and he's coming, hot and thick, over my fingers, and, oh, Christ, that wrings a few more shots out of me, I swear, and then I'm just lying on him and awful damn glad I'm the lightweight in terms of poundage.

Damn shame, really, I'm such a lightweight that he does the cleanup honors, because I'm fading fast. Yeah, they told me it would take me a while to be up to speed after the pneumonia. I hate it, though, I hate it like hell, and I grumble into Fraser's neck when he slides back into bed.

"It was the sprint after the pursesnatcher," he tells me softly, and pulls the sheet over us both. "You burned up your reserves."

I sort of laugh, even though I'm about half-awake. "Made you mad, too."

He sighs. "I admit to a somewhat instinctive response, yes. Fortunately, I haven't completely lost my sanity. Although I admit, there have been times when my sanity has been in question."

"Yeah, like now, being here with me, coming back to Chicago." I get jolted away by a finger in the ribs. "Ow!"

"That's the sign of sanity," he tells me sternly.

I laugh into his skin. "Yeah, okay, Ben, whatever you say." But it feels good and I wrap an arm around his chest. "Unhinged Mountie."

That just gets me nuzzled and I'm down under in minutes, still smiling.

I'm mildly pissed off when I get done at the doctor's office. Yeah, I'm clear to work. At a fucking desk, I don't get full duty until the doc decides my lungs are back tip top. Christ.

I go over to the station with the paperwork and give it to Welsh and he looks at it, narrows his eyes and grins. Not nicely. "Looks like your going to have time to get all your paperwork caught up, Kowalski."

Great. Fucking great. But still, hey, I'm back, I'm cooking, and for somebody's not supposed to be in good health, I sure managed to snag that stupid pursesnatcher. Doc can't take that away from me.

So, I get my old desk, which was Vecchio's desk first, and then Vecchio's desk for me, and now it has my old name plate sitting on it, kind of a welcome back that somebody cooked up, and I think it was probably Frannie. So I give her a knuckle rub on the back of the neck, grin at her, and she tells me to beat it, but she grins back.

Nice to be back, I decide, paperwork or not, and Huey high fives me, tells me it's nice I still got all my fingers and toes, he's been reading about how bad frostbite can be.

I snort at that. "I was with Fraser, for God's sake, he probably knows some weird Northern Areas remedy for frostbite."

Dewey cuts his eyes at Huey. "Yeah, body heat." Funny tone.

I look at him, real flat, not smiling. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Huey looks at his partner. "You know him, he runs his mouth," and there's an edge to his voice.

Dewey goes a little red. "Didn't mean anything, Kowalski, don't get your shorts in a knot."

After a minute, I nod and tell them about the ice crevice, how Delmar had to haul our asses up. Makes me look a little dumb, but it changes the conversation, and that's what I wanted. Then it's paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, and Welsh dumps some extra on me that isn't even mine, giving me a warning look before I bitch about it.

"Gotta get our money's worth from you," he tells me. Then, kinda grudging. "Good to have you back."

Well, I'm a doof, I know, but I like Welsh, I respect him, and that feels kind of nice. I grin back. "Course it is, Lieutenant."

He rolls his eyes at me, goes back to his office.

Phone rings around five, and it's Fraser, and I feel guilty because I forgot to call after my appointment, but he doesn't sound upset at all about it, and he obviously figured out where I was okay.

"Anyway, I'm good, I'm good, so quit worrying. I'm stuck at a desk for a while, dammit, and I'm bringing some of this paperwork home because I honest to God can't remember everything we did on some of these, I need that beartrap memory of yours." I'm talking low, my back to the bullpen.

He laughs. "I'll be happy to help, Ray. I'll see you at home, then, Constable Munro is dropping us off."

Sounds cool to me. "I'll be there about six or so," I tell him. Honeymoon period, I guess, I'm kind of warm and happy all over thinking of going home to an apartment that isn't empty. I don't hate my apartment any more, I guess.

I stop on the way home and pick up Chinese, I'm not in the mood to cook or watch Fraser cook, and I'm really, really whipped.

Fraser and I actually meet outside the apartment door, and he takes one look at me and takes the bags, gets the door open and nudges me in.

I laugh a little. "I look that bad?"

"Frankly, yes." He steers me toward the couch and Dief whuffles in a sort of disapproving way when he follows us in. "Water, soft drink, beer?"

"If I have a beer, I'll be asleep in about ten minutes," I tell him and stretch out. "How was your day with Cecil?"

"Ray," he says, but I can hear the laughter in his voice. "I think we'll actually get along fairly decently, oddly enough."

I raise my head. "With Cecil?" On the other hand, Fraser can be pretty by the book himself.

He comes back with plates and the bags and a bottle of water for me. "Will this do?" Holding the water up.

"Yeah, that's good. So Cecil isn't so bad?"

His mouth quirks. Eyebrow rub, neck crack and he starts working on getting the tunic off. "He, ah, suggested perhaps we have dinner some night."

That brings me right up on the couch. "He what?" I'm totally seeing red, and not because of his uniform. "He what? He's your report, dammit, that's not right!"

Fraser shrugs, undoes the lanyard and starts on the buttons. "Well, not to worry, I told him that I was afraid I was in a committed relationship and that my free time was limited, but perhaps lunch, and I could show him some of the city."

I stare at him. "You told him?"

"Not in so many words, no. More by implication."

"This isn't a good way for this guy to start out, I don't like it. He can make your life hell if he wants, worse than the Ice Queen."

"Ray, I think you're worrying unnecessarily."

"I hope so." I scowl and lean back against the arm of the couch. "I'll kick that creep in the head."

His mouth twitches. "I'll bear that in mind." He sits down with me and starts opening the cartons of food. "Other than that, I'm afraid, the day was rather mundane. A great deal of reorganizing, new procedures, and Constable Munro is still getting accustomed to the city. And, of course, I was promoted."

I sit back up again. "No shit? Again? That's great! We should be celebrating or something. So what are you now instead of a Corporal?"

He smiles faintly, but his ears go a little red. "Well, actually, for some odd reason, I'm a Sergeant now. I suspect Inspector Thatcher may have had a hand in that, frankly."

"Ooooh, well, the Ice Queen had designs on your pumpkin pants, which just proves she wasn't stupid." I tell him and practically crawl into his lap to give him a kiss for congratulations. Of course, that kind of interrupts what he's doing with the food, and he laughs into my mouth before he kisses me back and goes back to dishing up kung pau and almond chicken.

I put my chin on his shoulder and watch. "Fortunately, I got ya first."

He grins. "Or vice versa, I suppose."

"Whatever." I nuzzle. "All right, Ben, Sergeant." I feel a little sad suddenly. "We need to celebrate."

"This is celebration enough," he says and stops divvying up the food to turn around and hug me hard. "We're here together, that's enough for me."

Oh, man. Definitely honeymoon period, and I've got a lump in my throat. He deserves one helluva lot better than me, I think. Damn lucky for me he doesn't think so, so I just have to make sure I keep learning, keep doing good.

He kisses me, just a nice hello, nice to see-hold-touch you kiss, and then reaches over to get me a plate. And chopsticks. I take a bite, look at him. "So when do you get to do that liasing thing again?"

He settles back with his own plate. "I thought I'd stop by tomorrow, see if I can help you get the paperwork caught up."

Now there's a blessing. Welsh loves the reports Fraser helps me with, he says they're practically worth publication. I think the big guy has a soft spot for Fraser myself, even though he growls at him just as much as he growls at me.

Dief noses around, but he doesn't like almonds and Fraser won't give him anything, so he grumbles and wanders over to the kitchen where his food dish is. Stands there looking at us like he's been starved all day.

I start to get up, and Fraser gives me a look. "You can wait just a few minutes," he tells Dief, his tone snarky. "You ate Constable Munro's lunch."

I start laughing. "No way."

"Way." Fraser keeps looking at Dief, who lies down and puts his head on his paws. "Which necessitated my replacing Constable Munro's lunch, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, and baby Mounties need their eats," I tell him and get poked in the ribs again. "You know, Ben, I think I like this apartment now." I tilt my chin in the direction of the picture of him and his folks, sitting up with a couple of my photos. "Used to hate it."

That gets me a soft smile. "It's home," he says simply.

Yeah. No kidding. Home. But you know, even if I'd stayed in Canada, I like to think it would have been home, too. Maybe we'll do that one of these days. Maybe we won't.

Gotta admit, I'm not sure any more that it matters all that much where we are, as long as we're together.

End Home Is Where the Mountie Is by anonymous co: JimPage363@aol.com

Author and story notes above.