Disclaimer: Due South doesn't belong to me, sob, whimper.
Pairing:Fraser/Vecchio
Rating: PG for m/m implications
Note: This is an AU in which Call of the Wild never happened.
Closer
Ray Kowalski entered the silent bullpen, intent on getting enough
paperwork done that he could finally spend a quiet week-end without the
threat of Welsh's wrath hanging over his head. He'd thought briefly
about getting Fraser to help out, since the Mountie had, of course, been
the reason he hadn't finished his work in the first place, then decided
against it. Knowing Fraser, he'd notice that one of Ray's paperclips
was missing and the two of them would soon end up embroiled in some bizarre
office-supply smuggling ring, and his reports would go unfinished once
again.
Kowalski sighed, a mixture of fondness and exasperation, at the
thought of his crazy partner. Maybe he'd take the Mountie to a hockey
game this week-end... anything to get the man out of that gloomy consulate,
where Fraser had been sulking for the last few days. Not, of course,
that he'd ever admit to sulking, but he was definitely feeling down about
something, though Ray hadn't been able to figure out what was bothering
his friend.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a man standing by
his desk, staring down at the cluttered surface as if his life depended
on it. He was tall, with close-cropped, receding dark hair and a prominent
nose which, oddly enough, did not detract from his good looks. He was
dressed in a loose-fitting, expensive-looking suit, and his long, graceful
neck was bent slightly as he kept his eyes rivetted on Kowalski's desk.
Ray followed the man's gaze and realized that the object which had caught
his attention was the framed picture of Fraser and himself that Frannie
had taken at the last Christmas party, the two of them standing close
together in easy camaraderie, Fraser's Stetson perched on Ray's head.
Curious now, and not a little suspicious, he cautiously approached
the man. "Can I help you?"
The stranger turned, startled, then quickly looked Kowalski over.
"Ray Vecchio," he said grimly.
"That's my name," Ray answered warily, surprised at the other
man's sudden, tired smile.
"Think I could have it back now?" he asked drily, and Ray suddenly
realized where he'd seen this man before, feeling like an idiot for not
having realized it earlier. After all, he *had* been this man for over
a year; though all the pictures he'd been shown of that ebullient, vivacious
Italian-American detective were nothing like the quiet, haunted man that
stood before him now.
"Sure, I guess," he answered finally, with a slight grin of his
own. "I don't know how I pulled it off for so long, anyway; I sure as
hell don't look like a Vecchio."
"That's for damn sure," replied Vecchio, looking him over once
again, and Kowalski realized that next to Vecchio's slick style he himself
just looked like a skinny, scruffy polack. The other man must have seen
a change in Kowalski's expression, though, because he sighed suddenly.
"Look, that was out of line; I'm sorry."
Surprised, Kowalski shook his head. "No problem; I guess you're
pretty stressed out right about now."
That earned him a grateful look. "You have no idea..." Vecchio
began quietly, then frowned. "Jesus, I don't even know your name."
The blond detective braced himself. "Stan Kowalski," he said,
waiting for the inevitable reaction.
Vecchio stared at him. "Your name is Stanley Kowalski?"
Kowalski rolled his eyes. "Yeah, my dad had a thing for Brando,
yadda yadda yadda. Ray's my middle name, though, so I usually go by
that." He flashed his sunny grin at Vecchio. "I should thank you, actually,
for lettin' me ditch that name for a while."
Vecchio smiled back, then sobered again. "Nah, Kowalski. I'm
the one who should be thanking you, for taking care of my family all
this time... and Benny."
Kowalski flushed, unprepared for the sincerity of the other man's
thanks. Of all the times he'd pictured meeting this man, he never imagined
it would go like this. Then Vecchio's last words hit him and he chuckled.
"Benny? He lets you call him Benny?"
A look of pain flashed briefly across Vecchio's features as the
man thought of all the other things the Mountie had let Ray call him...
'Caro' being at the top of the list. "Yeah, well," he answered lightly,
"it keeps him humble. Anyway, thanks for sticking with him; I know he
can be hard to put up with sometimes."
"Oh yeah," Kowalski replied, thinking back to the incident on
that boat-ship. "But it's worth it," he said softly; "he's a good guy."
Vecchio glanced briefly down at the picture again, then back to
his alter-ego. "That he is."
"He's gonna go nuts when he sees you," Kowalski went on, and Ray
felt a flash of familiar guilt run through him.
"I don't know about that, Kowalski; I mean, I ran out on the guy
over a year ago."
Kowalski frowned. "It's not like you had a lot of choice, though;
he understood that. Besides, you were his best friend, he's not gonna
just forget about you, right?"
Ray winced inwardly at the other man's use of the past tense.
So he wasn't Benny's best friend any more... he wondered in what other
ways this man had replaced him, and he felt a sudden surge of jealousy,
replaced almost immediately with despair. After all, if Benny had been
driven away, wasn't it Ray's own fault for leaving?
He came back to the present with a jolt, realizing that Kowalski
was looking at him funny. He gestured over to the picture on his old
desk, the one he'd been looking at before, captivated by Fraser's bright,
happy smile, horrified by his closeness to the blond detective and by
the obvious intimacy between the two men. "Looks like you two are pretty
close."
"He's my best friend," Kowalski said simply, and Ray nodded sadly.
Kowalski studied him curiously for a moment longer, then realization
hit him like a ton of bricks. Certain comments Fraser had made over
the past year now made sense, as did Vecchio's strange behaviour. *Geez,*
he thought, *he could've told me.* On the heels of that reflection,
though, he realized that no, Fraser couldn't have, not if he thought
the news would freak Kowalski out and drive him away. No, Fraser had
already had too many people leave him; he deserved to be happy, for once.
He reached out and briefly laid a gentle hand on Vecchio's lean shoulder.
"Just friends, Vecchio. Nothing else."
The other man's green eyes widened then darted away, but not before
Kowalski had seen the relief flash through them. Pressing the issue,
he went on. "You know, maybe you should drop by the Consulate; he's probably
still up."
Vecchio's brow furrowed in confusion. "What? It's eight o'clock
on a Friday night. What the hell would he be doing at the Consulate?"
Kowalski smiled, realizing that there had been quite a few changes
since Vecchio's departure. He couldn't wait to see Ray's reaction to
the fact that his ditzy kid sister was their new civilian aide... though
he'd let Fraser tell him about the Riv.
"Fraser's apartment building burned down just after you left,"
he explained. "He's been livin' in his office since then."
Vecchio stared at him in disbelief. "You're kidding me, right?"
"Nope," Kowalski grinned. "Look, Vecchio, stop wasting your time
here, and go see the guy already. I got work to do."
Ray blinked, then smiled back, a glimmer of long-forgotten hope
lighting his eyes. "Right," he said, hesitating a moment before extending
his hand. "Thanks, Kowalski."
"No problem, Vecchio," he answered, shaking the other's hand.
As Vecchio turned to go, though, he couldn't resist adding, "By the way,
Thatcher and Turnbull are in Ottawa until Monday."
For the first time that evening, Vecchio's smile reached his eyes.
"Understood," he said, then turned and left the bullpen.
Kowalski watched him go, his own emotions turbulent. He couldn't
honestly say that he was sorry to see Vecchio back; living as the other
man, even for a short time, had certainly had its ups and downs, though
it had certainly been better than living as himself had been after Stella
had left, and maybe now he'd be able to ask Frannie out without defying
any laws of state or nature. And Fraser was going to be overjoyed by
Vecchio's presence, that much he knew, which made him happy.
It was just that Kowalski had gotten used to this new life, to
his freak of a partner and his new overbearing family, and he really
didn't want to give any of that up.
With a sigh, he put aside those depressing thoughts and settled
down to his work, knowing that Vecchio's return would, if nothing else,
bring a whole new spate of paperwork come Monday morning.
And as he worked, he wondered idly whether Francesca Vecchio liked
hockey.
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