Pairing: Fraser/RayK (Barbara/Damien)
Rating: NC-17 for m/m loving and strong-ish language
Disclaimer: Alliance owns it all.
Warning: the sex is slightly stronger than 'vanilla'
Note: This is the third in the 'Happy Holidays' series, following
'Fireworks' and 'Special Thanks'. My undying gratitude as always to
M-A for support and beta duties.
Thanks
Again
by Sylvie Grenon
The turkey had been decimated, the stuffing had been stuffed
away, only a few crumbs remained of a golden pumpkin pie, and peace reigned
in a trailer home in Skokie. Fraser had dragged off a grumbling, happily
fed-up wolf to a neighbouring park to walk off their ample dinner; even
the Mountie had been unable to turn down second and even - Lord help
him! - third helpings of Barbara Kowalski's cooking. Damien was sitting
on the front 'porch', hunched over in his lawn chair, fast asleep in
the November twilight, enjoying the last of the year's mild weather.
Ray was in the kitchen, having insisted on helping his mother with the
dishes.
He watched her carefully as he waited, rather patiently for
him, for her to get a pot scrubbed clean enough for her liking. His
parents' arrival in Chicago a few weeks earlier had really thrown him
for a loop. They were being nice to him, his dad even offering to help
him with the GTO, and he couldn't quite understand why, kept waiting
for that other shoe to drop.
"Mom," he asked softly in deference to his dad who was sleeping
just beyond the open window in front of them. "Why are you guys here?"
Her eyes never left the sudsy water, though she paused in
her scrubbing. "It's a nice place, perfect for people our age."
"No, I mean, why did you come back to Illinois? How come
you're spending a holiday here?"
"Instead of with our grandchildren, you mean?"she asked,
still not looking up.
"Nah, Dad told me about the kids being sick, and how you
didn't want to bother them right now. It's just... well, I thought you
guys liked Arizona."
She looked up, now, and he was startled at the pain in her
eyes. "Oh, Stanley, you mean as much to us as a whole herd of grandkids.
Sure, we like Arizona, but we love you."
He looked down at the tea towel in his hands, fiddling absently
with it. He knew she loved him; he also knew that by 'we', she was only
referring to one of them. "I know you do, Mom."
The firm grip on his arm startled him into meeting her gaze.
"We both do, Stanley. Your dad might not show it too often, but don't
ever doubt that he loves you."
He smiled a little at that, drawing a shuddering breath.
"Geez, Mom; were you always psychic, or did that come when Marlon and
I were born?"
She turned back to her dishes with a smile of her own. "Neither,
dear; you never could hide anything from me."
He picked up a plate and swiped at it ruefully with the cloth.
"Been talking to Dad, huh?"
"I didn't have to; I knew all about the lamp."
"Yeah, he told me," Ray admitted.
"I knew about the car, too."
"You did not!"
She turned and raised an eyebrow at him. "I even knew about
the cigarette you and Jimmy Lebowski shared in the garage when you thought
your Dad and I were at the movies."
He stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You
had the garage bugged, right?"
She reached over and patted his cheek with a damp hand.
"No, Stanley. I just know you." She did, he had to admit that. He'd
never been able to keep a secret from her, not once.
"You always were the only one who could figure me out."
Her smile seemed to melt away at that, and he stared at her
in concern. "Mom?"
"I always could, until now. Stanley, I want to ask you something,
and I want you to be perfectly honest with me. None of this nonsense
about what's good for me - tell me the truth."
Um. This didn't sound good. "Sure, Mom. Okay."
"You and Benton..."
Oh. No.
"Are you..."
Oh. Shit.
She took a deep breath, seeming to steel herself. "Are you
and Benton... together?"
Shit, shit, shit. He was not ready for this; not
now, not when things were just starting to come together between him
and his parents. Looked like that other shoe had not only dropped, but
bounced back up and kicked him in the head. He had to tell her the truth,
though, and damn the consequences.
"Yeah, Mom. We are."
Her eyes filled with tears, and he felt a pang of guilt and
regret; he'd always hated to see her cry.
"Oh, Stanley," she said, then, to his surprise, drew him
into a tight hug. "Stanley, my baby boy. I worry enough about you being
a policeman, without this, too!"
"Mom?" he asked, his own eyes prickling suspiciously.
"You think I'm blind, Stanley? You think I don't see on
the television, in the newspapers, how dangerous it is for a man to be
with another man? Oh, I'm not talking about sickness, anyone can get
that if they're not careful; it's all the horrible, horrible people who
would want to hurt you if they knew..."
Ray tightened his embrace, pressed his cheek up against his
mother's. "They're not gonna know, Mom. Fraser and me, we're not exactly
gonna tell the world, you know. And if they do find out, well, we can
take care of ourselves. Take care of each other."
She released him then, just far enough to look him in the
eye. "Do you love him?"
"Yeah, Mom, I do. A lot."
"Are you happy?"
He met her gaze, unflinching. "More than I've ever been."
She smiled at that, leaning back in to kiss his cheek. "Then
I'm happy for you, too."
As they turned back to the dishes, he asked quietly, "So,
which one of us tells Dad?"
She patted his arm. "You take care of your man, dear; let
me take care of mine."
Ray realized, as he started putting the pots away, that it
was probably the first time he'd blushed in front of his mother since
his teens.
Barbara watched as her husband stirred the customary chocolates
in his coffee, with her usual mix of affection and exasperation. He
reminded her so much of their youngest son; he and Stanley had the same
mannerisms, the same gruff gentleness - even the same electric hair,
she thought with a smile.
They had packed the boys off a short while earlier, with
leftovers and promises to visit soon, and the elder Kowalskis were sharing
a peaceful moment together before going to bed.
Once he had his coffee to his liking, Damien took a sip,
and sighed. She knew what was on his mind; her Stanley wasn't the only
one she could read like a book. "How much of that did you hear?"she
asked him softly.
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Enough."
"They've got a long, hard road ahead of them," she said sadly.
Damien snorted. "And whose fault is that?"
She pricked up at that. She may have married him for better
or worse, but no one, not even him, attacked her children. "Damien!
He's made his choice, and whether we like it or not, we will support
him."
He opened his mouth to answer, but she headed him off. "You
had your turn! I sat there for years, Damien, not saying a word while
you turned our son away, not telling him how proud I was that he was
such a good policeman, not going to him when he was hurt, not helping
him when his wife left him. And now I have to face a son who thinks
he's second best with us, that we just settle for him when we have nothing
better to do, and, oh, Damien, it just breaks my heart to see him look
so surprised when we do something nice for him. That first big decision,
his decision to become a policeman, that one was for you to deal with,
and you did, and we all got hurt and wasted time, but that's over with
now. This time, it's my turn to deal with his decision, and I say we
will not lose him again, just because of who he's chosen to love."
Damien stared at her for a long moment, at a loss for words
in the face of his wife's vehemence. In more than forty years of marriage,
she'd put her foot down on only a handful of matters, but where her two
sons were concerned, she was a rock. Finally, he reached across their
small kitchen table and gently grasped her hand, mildly surprised to
find it was trembling.
"It's that important to you, Barb?"
He could feel her fingers tense beneath his. "It should
be to you, too, Damien."
He thought about it. Thought about Ray, and how this thing
between him and the Mountie flew in the face of everything he'd been
taught was right; how people would be angry, and disgusted, and hurtful,
not only at his son for being 'that way', but maybe even at his parents
for raising him to be like that. He thought about Fraser, and how much
he obviously loved his son - oh, Damien wasn't blind either, anymore
than his wife was.
And he thought about her, the woman he'd spent his life with,
and he realized that if Ray and Fraser loved each other even half as
much as he loved Barbara, then they were going to be all right.
"I don't understand it, Barb, anymore than I understand why
he'd want to be a cop. But he's a good cop, I've seen that. And I've
seen him with Fraser; he's good with him, too. And if that's what he
wants, well, that's up to him."
God, he loved to see her face light up like that. "Oh, Damien!"
The coffee was forgotten as she tightened her fingers around his. "You
know," she added with a mischievous smile, "I think I made the right
choice, marrying you."
He chuckled. "Here's hoping!" He thought again to his youngest
son, hoping that he, too, was making the right choice. He shook his
head.
"I don't want to think about what they might be doing right
now, though."
Barbara reached over to tweak his ear. "Probably the same
thing that we could be doing, dear, if you'd get your mind back
over here."
His eyes widened at the familiar - and beloved - playfulness
in his wife's eyes. "Pitter patter, then," he said, standing suddenly,
scooping her up in his arms, ignoring her surprised giggles and carrying
her to their bed.
Ray groaned softly as Fraser's fingers worked their magic
on his back, massaging out the stress of the day. "Your mother is a
wonderful cook, Ray," he was saying as he hit a particularly sore point
in Ray's lower back.
Ray gasped at the sharp pain, then melted again as his body
relaxed even more. "Yeah, she is. She sees Thanksgiving as her pre-Christmas
warm-up feast."
"Will they be going to your brother's for the holidays?"
"Uh-huh. The kids should be better by then. God, two seven
year-olds with whooping cough." He shook his head at the thought.
Fraser eased off on the pressure, now merely stroking the
long lines of Ray's back, loathe to take his hands off his lover's warm
skin. "It looked like you had a good talk with your mother."
Ray tensed underneath his hands, nearly undoing all of his
hard work, and he frowned, concerned. "Ray?"
Ray remained face-down on the bed, his face half-buried in
the pillow. "She asked about us."
Fraser puzzled over that for a moment; then the meaning in
those words became all too clear. "Oh dear."
Ray snorted. "Yeah, 'oh dear' is right, Ben."
"And?"
"And? I never could lie to her, Ben. I told her the truth."
Ah. Well, far be it for him to suborn a lie, although in
this particular case he might have been sorely tempted to at least bend
the truth a little. He waited, knowing Ray would continue in his own
time.
"You know, Ben, I thought I knew her. I thought I knew exactly
how she was gonna react - she'd look at me with these big disappointed
eyes, and say 'Oh, Stanley', and they'd be packed up and on their way
back to Tucson first thing in the morning."
"But she didn't."
"Nah, that's what gets me. She said 'Oh, Stanley', then
gave me a hug and told me it was okay!"
Fraser let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Obviously, Ray, she loves you very much. You're very special to her."
Ray turned over to face him. "See, that I don't get, Ben.
Why now? All this time, I've played second string to my brother, and
now that I'm a cop, a *gay* cop, now I'm special to her?"
Fraser shook his head, wondering if he was ever going to
convince this man to see his own self-worth. "No, Ray. I think the
feeling was always there, they've just now realized that they should
show it more explicitly."
Ray still looked doubtful. "Ten years, Ben, I never heard
a thing from my Dad, and I only heard from my Mom 'cause she was friends
with Stella."
"Are you certain of that, Ray? Perhaps she only communicated
with you through Stella because she knew your father wouldn't approve
of it otherwise. Didn't she keep in touch with you after your divorce?"
He could see now a glimmer of understanding in those blue-gray
eyes. "Yeah, but..."
Fraser reached down to cup a golden-stubbled cheek, gazing
at his lover intently. "Ray, I saw the way she looked when she first
saw you in the station parking lot. No mother who smiles at her son
the way she did feels less than complete love for him."
Ray's eyes widened, and he stared at Fraser for a long moment.
Finally, he blinked and reached up to run his fingers through Fraser's
hair, gently, lovingly. "You're something else, you know that, Ben?"
he breathed.
Fraser felt the blush start, was powerless to stop it. "As
are you, Ray."
Ray's answer wasn't in words; instead, he firmly tugged on
Fraser's head, bringing it down until their mouths met. Fraser sank
down onto the bed - and his lover - with a sigh, slipping his tongue
into that warm, slick haven, tangling it with Ray's. His hands blazed
a trail across the smooth skin of Ray's chest, fingers moving up to play
with rapidly-hardening nipples.
"Oh, yeah," Ray murmured, arching slightly into his touch.
Fraser, wanting much more than that, broke their kiss, not without some
regret, and moved down to take one pebbled bud between his lips. Ah,
now Ray's movement was more pronounced - he was practically writhing
with each of Fraser's light nibbles. All too soon, though, he felt
his lover's strong hands tug lightly at his head, moving him away from
his feast, as Ray gasped, "Enough, Ben. God, please!"
Fraser lifted his head, and Ray used the motion to his advantage,
grasping the Mountie's shoulders and manoeuvring them around so that
Fraser now lay on his back. Then, raising up to straddle him, Ray started
unbuttoning his shirt, pausing every so often to tickle or caress a sensitive
spot, baring the skin for his eager eyes and hands. When the shirt had
been removed Ray bent down again and started his own oral exploration
of Fraser's chest, and before long the effect of soft stubble on nipples
had Fraser moaning softly.
"God, Ben,"Ray murmured between swipes of his agile tongue.
"I always thought nothing could taste better than my Mom's cooking..."
"Ray!" Fraser moaned, his own hands running over his lover's
back, through his soft blonde spikes. "Could you perhaps ... Oh, God!
... refrain from mentioning ... mmm! ... your mother while we are ..."
Ray chuckled into Fraser's sternum before moving down to
tongue the man's navel. "Yeah, I guess that kind of talk isn't conducive
to our amorous activities, is it?"
Fraser was caught between astonishment and arousal as Ray's
fingers tugged at his zipper, brushing occasionally and maddeningly against
the straining bulge of his erection. "That was... well said, Ray." he
managed to gasp between grunts of pleasure.
Ray smiled at that. "Well, seeing as you're down to words
of one syllable, I figured one of us might as well be using your vocabulary."
If Fraser had been in any frame of mind to respond to that,
it would have been lost as Ray freed the Mountie's hot, hard cock and
swooped down on it, drawing it deep into his mouth with a vigorous motion.
Fraser moaned deeply at the exquisite sensation, using every last bit
of his willpower to keep from grabbing his lover's head and thrusting
deeply into that welcoming place. It didn't help, either, that Ray was
using his lips, his tongue, oh Lord!, even his teeth to bring him to
higher and higher pinnacles of pleasure.
He nearly cried out in anguish as that sucking mouth was
lifted off his aching cock. Ray gave the tip one last, apologetic kiss
before raising up again to pull Fraser's pants completely off, taking
the opportunity to quickly shed his own clothes. Fraser watched as Ray
trailed his eyes over his sprawled body, felt himself grow even more
aroused at the passion in that gaze. Deliberately, he spread his legs,
bending his knees a little, delighting in the groan the action caused
from the man in front of him. In the blink of an eye, Ray was back on
the bed, positioning himself between Fraser's thighs, lowering his head
once again to where it was so badly needed.
Fraser shut his eyes blissfully as he felt Ray's warm tongue
back on his cock, softly lapping up the beads of moisture at its tip,
trailing down the ever-so-sensitive underside of it, down to his balls,
where he gently laved the delicate sac. Fraser moaned at the sweet sensation
of it, spreading his legs even further, giving Ray more room. Then Ray
spoke, the soft breath and vibration of his voice sending an electric
current through Fraser's groin.
"You taste so good, Ben," Ray was murmuring, "so damned good."
His hands moved to grip Fraser's thighs, pushing them apart a little
more, and he settled himself a little further down, now kissing and tonguing
Fraser's tender perineum. "Don't even need the cranberry stuff."
The words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Fraser's
mind. Cranberry stuff? The only 'cranberry stuff' they had was the
flavoured lube that Ray had purchased the week before... Oh, sweet God
in heaven! The meaning of the words hit him at the same time as Ray's
tongue hit his most sensitive place, and he nearly bucked them off the
bed.
"Ray!" The sound was half gasp, half groan, husky and incredibly
aroused. Never in his wildest fantasies had he imagined... had he dreamed
... His arms flew out to the side, his hands grabbing fistfuls of the
sheets and gripping them for dear life as Ray licked, lapped, sucked
and explored to his heart's content. Fraser was babbling incoherently
now, arching and writhing beneath him, his hips arching up with every
stab of that magical tongue into his body, forcing Ray to keep a strong
hold on Fraser's hips to keep them both stable. And then one of Ray's
strong hands reached over to firmly grasp Fraser's cock, and Ray's tongue
thrust deep inside him, and Fraser's limbs stiffened, and he came with
an intensity he'd never felt before, crying out Ray's name over and over,
in time with the pulses of hot semen that fell on his chest, his belly,
Ray's hand, and he barely heard Ray's own cry of completion.
Fraser lay panting on the bed, his body as sated - and as
limp - as it had ever been, managing to get enough movement back into
his muscles to stroke his lover's sweat-dampened head . Ray was licking
and cleaning him up, and small shivers of lingering pleasure coursed
through him with every swipe of that tongue. Finally, when he was clean
enough to suit Ray, he tugged him up into his arms, pulling him in for
a long, tender kiss.
They broke apart for breath, and Fraser murmured against
Ray's mouth, "That was spectacular, Ray."
Ray smiled shyly. "Yeah?"
Fraser hoped his own smile reflected the absolute love he
felt for this man. "Yeah."
"Well, I wanted you to have a good Thanksgiving."
Fraser chuckled. "Well, I thank you most kindly for it,"
he said, and Ray leaned back in for another quick kiss, before settling
his head down on Fraser's shoulder. Fraser stroked his back, softly,
soothingly, not quite ready to succumb to sleep. Neither was Ray, apparently,
since his soft voice broke the stillness of the room.
"You know, Ben, I think my mom really likes you."
"I'm very glad, Ray; I'm quite fond of her myself."
Ray's arm slipped across his waist. "I guess you miss your
own Mom, though, right?"
To his surprise, he found himself blinking back sudden tears
at the familiar pain. "Very much so," he said softly, and Ray's hold
on him tightened.
"She must have been a really special woman."
Fraser thought about long-ago days, about hugs and smiles
and happy laughter. "She was, Ray; she was kind, and gentle; very loving...
and I'm sure she would have loved you, too."
He felt Ray smile against his shoulder, and as the two men
snuggled closer together, allowing sleep to claim them, each man sent
a silent word of thanks to mothers, and to whatever kind being watched
over them.