One of My Best Friends

M.

Fraser woke in the darkened apartment and frowned. A heavy sleeper, he rarely awoke before his self-appointed time, but it was only a little past two, a far cry from the cold gray light of five a.m. Chicago. He glanced warily at Diefenbaker, but the wolf was still sleeping soundly. Or deafly, perhaps. Patiently, he waited to discover what disturbance had awakened him.

A tentative tap on the door neatly answered his question. His fellow tenants had come to depend on the sturdy Mountie's quiet dependability. A domestic disaster at the Gamez abode would bring one of the children to his door at any hour. Fraser sighed and quickly dressed, prepared to have his night's rest abolished for the sake of neighborliness.

He was so confident one of his neighbors stood before his door that seeing the smudged face peering at him was considerably startling. As always, Fraser concealed his surprise in pleasantries.

"Hello, Ray."

"Fraser. You were awake?"

"Ah, no. That is, er, I was just about to make some tea. Would you like to come in?" Fraser watched his friend closely.

"Thanks." Ray slowly pushed away from the doorframe and staggered inside. Fraser caught him by the shoulders as he stumbled.

"You need a doctor."

"No! No doctor. Just need to catch my breath. I'll be okay a minute." Ray groped painfully to the hard kitchen chair and eased himself down.

Fraser tried to remain nonchalant as he assembled the tea preparations. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Benny. Wrong place, wrong time."

"As you wish. I could take a look at your bruises after a bit, if you don't mind. Someone ought to, at least. Would you like to stay the night?"

Grateful, Ray winced when he tried to smile. "Yeah, thanks. Ma'd kill me if she saw me like this."

"I can understand her distress. The tea should help you sleep." Fraser spent a few moments gathering the first-aid items he'd need from their various storage areas in the apartment. His tea was cool enough to drink when he'd finished. Ray sat quietly, rubbing his left arm and staring blindly at the scratched Formica tabletop.

Fraser rummaged through his closet and laid a neatly pressed RCMP sweatsuit on the table next to Ray's mug. "Here, Ray, why don't you change into these while I finish my tea? Then we can assess the damages." Politely, he faced away from his friend and resisted all temptation to offer help while Ray slowly stripped and groaned his way into the thick cotton garments.

Dief grumbled himself awake, shook briefly, and ambled to the fire escape for a short walk. A walk he wouldn't need if he'd only resist salty junk food, as Fraser habitually reminded him.

"Geez, no wonder I'm freezing my butt off, Fraser! It's forty degrees outside, and you've got all the windows open."

"I'm sorry, Ray." Briefly, two strong childhood bastions struggled. Proper behavior to guests won over the benefits of fresh air. "Would you like me to shut them?"

"Nah. It's okay. I don't mean to be putting you out like this."

"Not at all. Let me see that cut." All business, Fraser swabbed, dabbed, inspected, patched and patted until Ray's contusions and his patience were both exhausted. Ray spoke of this and that, but never mentioned the cause of his hurts. Fraser waited patiently, certain that Ray would eventually tell him what happened.

At last, with Ray's bruises still unexplained, Fraser unstrapped his bedroll and laid down. Ray slipped into the cold bed, muttering to himself. For a few moments they stretched and turned, searching for comfortable positions.

Silence.

"Uh, Benny?"

"Yes, Ray?"

"Do you think Dief wants to sleep on the bed?"

"He often does. Why? Are you cold?"

"A little. Maybe another blanket?"

"Sorry, Ray, all I have is the bedroll for extra warmth."

"Never mind then. Go to sleep."

"Ray - "

"I'm fine, Benny. Nobody's ever frozen to death in forty-degree weather."

"Actually, Ray, hypothermia is a reduction in core body temperature, and can occur any time the ambient temperature is - "

"Shut up, Fraser." To his dismay, Ray's teeth chattered. By the time Fraser had gathered the bedroll and spread it across the mattress, he was shivering and unable to protest. He was even less prepared for his friend to slide beneath the bedding and take him in a warm embrace, mindful of his scrapes.

Conversationally, Fraser said, "I know you weren't amenable to this idea the last time I proposed it, but I think you were more worried about what other people would think. There's very little chance of anyone seeing us here. It's perfectly safe, Ray, and an excellent treatment for mild shock."

"What about major shock?" Ray managed to gasp. "This is not how I planned to spend my evening, you know."

"It wasn't on my agenda, either."

Wrapped in layers of blankets and flannel-clad Canadian, Ray was silent until the shivering stopped. Drowsy, he whispered into the dark hair of the man beside him. "I'd better tell you what happened tonight, so you know why this is a bad idea. It was a robbery. I was roughed up and robbed."

"You didn't report it?"

Ray barked a humorless laugh. "No, I didn't report it. Shoulda known you'd ask. I was in a bar, I met a guy, we went into the alley, he clocked me and took my wallet."

"Your injuries suggest he hit you more than once."

"I didn't like getting my wallet lifted, okay? Tried to get it back, only he was a little quicker and a little less interested in leaving me alive."

"Did you inform your credit card companies of the theft?"

Ray sighed. "No, I wasn't carrying any credit cards. I had some cash in a billfold, and my driver's license in a coat pocket. Just in case I got robbed."

"That was opportune, Ray. Why didn't you identify yourself as a police officer?"

Ray bit back another sigh and resisted the impulse to snuggle deeper into the Mountie's arms. Or strangle him. "Because I didn't want to arrest him."

"He broke the law."

"Fraser, I met the guy in a bar and went into an alley with him. What does that tell you?"

Fraser pondered a moment. "That you met him in a bar and were robbed in an alley. Is there a connection with your reluctance to see a doctor or report the robbery?"

"Fraser, it's a gay bar. I went into a gay bar, picked up a guy, and on the way to the alley robbery wasn't the first thing on my mind. Now do you get it?" Ray held very still.

Nodding once, Fraser said quietly, "You don't want to be associated with that establishment, even if it means allowing a robber to go unapprehended?"

"Yes."

"You were hurt, Ray. You might have been seriously injured. His next victim might be seriously injured, unless we stop him."

Ray closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten. It didn't help much. "Jesus, Fraser, I tell you I'm gay and you're worried about catching the bad guy!"

"It seemed the more important aspect of your story, Ray."

"Doesn't it bug you?"

"Yes, it bothers me. A criminal who targets victims reluctant to report a crime, and thereby retains his freedom, bothers me quite a bit."

"Doesn't my being gay bother you?"

Ray felt Fraser shrug. "Not particularly. Should it?"

Ray could think of no answer that made sense. Still secure in Fraser's arms, he closed his eyes and tried to will himself elsewhere. Fraser wasn't prepared to let things, or Vecchios, rest.

"I still think you should report the robbery."

"No."

"The criminal is depending on your silence, Ray."

"No."

"He ought to be stopped."

"No. I'm not risking my career for a couple of twenties, Fraser. I am not going to be outed by a two-bit hood with a cute tush and sticky fingers. I've got too much to lose here, a lot more than it's worth."

"Ray - "

"No. If a report comes in, made by somebody else, and I happen to catch the case, then maybe I'll know where to start looking. Otherwise, no."

"Alright, Ray."

"I mean it, Fraser."

"I know."

"No, you don't. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it is. Ma would, geez, I don't even know what she'd do. Blame herself, probably."

"There's nothing wrong with you, Ray. You mother has no cause for censure."

"Tell it to the Church, Benny. The Church, and the job, and all the assholes who'd go out of their way to make my life miserable just 'because'."

"You'd rather make yourself miserable, and a target for thieves?"

"Hey, it's my misery and I'll make it if I want to."

Fraser sighed. "Understood. Ray?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you intend to, that is, will you continue to frequent, I mean -"

"Am I going to keep hanging out in gay bars?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Ah. Then, may I ask a favor?"

"Sure."

"Take me with you."

"What? You mean, uh, are you ... ?"

Fraser didn't pretend to misunderstand the question. "No, Ray, I am heterosexual. I'm simply worried about a repetition of tonight's events, and would feel better if you had some type of backup. I wouldn't interfere, or do anything to crimp your style, but I'd be present if something untoward happened."

"Cramp my style, Benny."

"Excuse me?"

"Cramp, not crimp."

"Oh. Sorry."

"S'okay. You'd get hit on, you know. Some guys really go for that cute, polite Canadian thing."

"I can take care of myself."

"I'd pay to see that." Fraser blushed and Ray laughed. "Okay, okay, here's the deal. We'll try it a couple times, and if my style remains crimp-free then we'll see."

"Fair enough. Thank you, Ray."

Ray turned and they spooned peaceably together for a few minutes. Ray was puzzled by Fraser's reaction, or non-reaction, to his confession, and it kept sleep at bay.

"Benny?"

"Hmmm?"

"You ever think about guys?"

"Sexually, you mean?"

"Yeah. You ever think about me, I mean men, sexually?"

Ray felt Benny's arms draw tighter around him and he nearly squeaked in surprise. "No, Ray, I have never thought about you sexually. I'm very sorry, and I wish I could say differently, but there you are."

"You're sorry you're straight?"

"Not exactly. I'm sorry that my sexual orientation makes it impossible to ask someone like you to become my life's partner. It would be an honor to be loved by someone with your many good qualities, Ray. I simply haven't met anyone who embodies both friendship and sexual attraction. Neither have you, it seems."

"Huh. Completely straight, eh? Not even a flicker of interest?" Ray wiggled against Fraser experimentally, and heard the laughter under Benny's serious reply.

"Totally flickerless, Ray."

"You hug pretty good for a straight guy. Anyway, it was just a thought."

"Understood."

"Y'know, according to Kinsey and those types, there aren't many totally flicker-free straight guys. Hey, Benny?"

"Ray?"

"You're really okay with this?"

"What do you mean by 'this'?"

"This. THIS. You and me, in the sack. That this. Aren't you worried I might ravage you or something?"

"I think you mean 'ravish', and no, not at all. Why would I be?"

"You jump pretty quick around Frannie, and somehow I don't think you'd be all cozy wrapped around her this way."

"Francesca is not you, Ray. It would be improper, for one thing. For another, I know you won't try to take advantage of the situation. I have no such assurance about Francesca. For that matter, I have no real assurance of my own behavior under those circumstances, and wouldn't want to give Francesca the impression I was in any way encouraging her advances."

"So, you can relax around me because you're definitely not interested, but with Frannie you're jumpy because maybe you might be interested?"

"Something like that, I suppose."

"You didn't sleep with my sister, did you, Benny?"

"You know I can't discuss that. It wouldn't be chivalrous."

"It wouldn't be too damned chivalrous to sleep with a guy AND his sister, Fraser."

"I'll remember that, Ray, if I ever encounter that particular situation. Sleep well." Fraser exhaled deeply and settled further into the hollow at the center of the mattress. Gravity rolled Ray against Fraser's solid bulk, and although he felt sure he should move, sleep claimed him before he could act.

It surprised Ray, in the days that followed, how little changed between them. Fraser treated him with exactly the same degree of casual camaraderie as ever, neither drawing closer nor pushing him away. He'd always tried to limit his touches to the unquestionably fraternal, and viewed Fraser's occasional pat or brush as something to be silently endured. Not painful, precisely, but he was too suspicious of his own feelings to react unguardedly. Now that all was known, Fraser continued to touch him in the same way, as if he knew how much Ray craved contact and was pleased to do this small service for his friend. On further observation, Ray realized that Fraser not only accepted his touches but also did all he could to encourage it, practically purring under the attention.

Strangely, the brief physical contact that had seemed so sexually charged before the robbery lost its surreptitious thrill. Fraser's simple declaration of disinterest, combined with his scrupulous honesty and trust in Ray's honor, took the sexual mystery right out of their interactions. Ray remained interested in men, generally, but the idea of romantic relationship Fraser held all the appeal of kissing Francesca. It was a relief, frankly, and one of the few occasions in modern memory that honesty actually proved to be both the most practical and advantageous policy.

The next challenge lay in incorporating Fraser into Ray's somewhat erratic social life, if that's what one night a week sipping beers in gay bars could be called. Given the opportunity to acclimate, Fraser proved to be discreet to the point of invisibility. Ray would check in with a glance as he entered, then enjoy his drink or two, or play a little pool. Rarely, he'd meet someone interesting and they'd agree to go elsewhere. Only once did Ray even notice his six-foot Canadian shadow, and that was barely in passing.

They quickly settled into a routine of weekly "people watching", as Fraser diplomatically called it. Ray would often spend the night in Fraser's tiny apartment, rather than make the trek home and risk waking the rest of the family.

A few months later, Ray was busy accepting congratulations for another difficult case he and Fraser had smoothly wrapped up. He was pleased that the trail of evidence had led somewhere other than a dumpster, for once, and no Armani had died in the performance of his duty. Fraser hovered modestly in the background, earnestly discussing Robert's Rules of Order with Elaine and Gardino.

"Constable? In my office." Welsh lumbered into his den without waiting for Fraser's response.

Fraser and Ray traded a look, eyebrows raised. The Mountie shrugged and obeyed, leaving a baffled and suspicious cop in his wake.

Casually, Ray tried to meander in the direction of Welsh's office door. The door was closed firmly and pointedly in front of him. Traveling indirectly to his corner, he peered into the smaller space. Welsh sighed and snapped the shades closed. Stymied, he sulked behind his desk until a thoughtful Fraser emerged.

"Well? What did he want?"

"The Leftenant felt obligated to bring an observation to my notice. Someone apparently is of the opinion that my relationship with you goes beyond the merely professional."

"Well, duh."

"Exactly. But this someone also apparently feels that my obvious affection for you is unprofessional and that more effort should be made to control the expression of those affections, particularly in a workplace setting."

"What? And what did you tell Welsh?"

"That I was unaware of anything in my behavior deserving reproach. You are aware of my feelings towards you. Your feelings are different than mine. Because of that discrepancy there was no reason to think my behavior would ever become an embarrassment to him or reflect badly on either the RCMP of the CPD. He seemed reassured by my response." Fraser smiled, absurdly pleased by Welsh's bland assurance that the Mountie's presence in the squadroom was valuable enough to overlook certain irregularities in his behavior.

Ray stared, then shook his head ruefully. "You lied to him?"

"Of course not. Your feelings and mine are quite different. We've discussed it. It isn't a problem. What should I have said?"

"Benny, he thinks you're gay."

Fraser smiled again, eyes sparkling. "Is that a problem, Ray? After all, one of my best friends is gay."

END