This story is slash, containing characters who (sadly) do not belong to me and both happen to be men who want to have sex with each other. I'm not writing this for any gain other than my own personal amusement. Rating - NC-17.

Here it is, part eighteen in the twenty-one part "One Ray, Two Ray, Old Ray, New Ray" series (with all due deference to Dr. Suess), which has something in it to please or offend everyone, including Fraser/Kowalski pairings, Fraser/Vecchio, and even Vecchio/Kowalski. You have been warned.

This story takes place approximately eight months after the events of the series finale. All previous stories archived at http://www.frontierz.com/socket

Permission granted to archive at Witnesslist, and any and all other Due South archives. Any others, please let me know first.

any comments, suggestions, or complaints can be sent to me at magik@socket.net

"In From the Cold"

Barbara J. Webb

Snow. There were days when it seemed as though Ray's entire world was made of snow. As far as the eye could see, unbroken white that tricked and blinded the eyes. There was snow in his clothes, in his bag, in the fur of the dogs, in his hair. His plates were washed in snow; he drank water made of melted snow, ate food boiled in snow. Everything, everywhere - snow.

Frustrated, tired, desperate for just one small victory over the snow, Ray shook at his sleeping back. Most of the snow flew off into the dry, stinging air. Ray pounded his mittened hand against a patch that still clung to the nylon. Two swipes, and it was gone. But there was another spot. He beat away the snow from that spot as well. A corner of the bag fell back into the snow, and Ray lifted it back up, shook it somewhat viciously. Still, the snow clung to it, taunting him, defiant, laughing, white.

* * * * *

When Fraser returned to the fireside from tending to the dogs, he was confronted by the sight of Ray rolling in the snow, apparently trying to assault one of the sleeping bags. "Ray...Ray...Ray...Ray...Ray..."

"What?" Rolling up to a sitting position, the bag still draped over his head and wrapped around him, partially obscuring his view of Fraser, Ray gave the Mountie a completely innocent, questioning look. "What's wrong, Frase?"

"I think you've subdued it."

"Yeah, well, it was giving me trouble." Ray tossed the sleeping bag off him, stood up, brushed himself off in the compulsive way Fraser had noticed he'd taken up lately. It seemed every time he looked over at Ray, the man was trying to brush snow off himself.

The hostility towards snow wasn't the only thing Fraser had noticed. Ray was tense - had been for a couple weeks now, alternating between sullen silences and fitful bursts of hyper-energy, lashing out at usually harmless inanimate objects, like the sleeping bag. He argued with nearly anything Fraser said, no matter how true it was. And he'd been sleeping badly, restlessly, tossing and crying out in his sleep no matter how tightly Fraser's held him.

Fraser suspected he knew what the problem was, but he hadn't wanted to face it, to even think about it. He'd kept hoping if he ignored it, it would pass. Perhaps it was simply a phase Ray was going through. A mood. Everything had been so perfect...and now this.

Ray was homesick.

It was as simple and as enormous as that.

Still Fraser didn't say anything. Quietly, efficiently, he rolled the sleeping bag and stowed it on the sled, helped Ray with the last remaining tasks of cleaning up the campsite. It was selfish of him - he knew that. Perhaps even cruel. No way to treat the man he loved - who loved him. But Fraser wasn't ready to go back to Chicago, not yet. Maybe not ever, although he would - he would soon. Just not yet. Soon, they would talk about it, discuss it. He would offer Ray the chance to go back. At first, Ray would probably argue, deny that he needed anything but Fraser, but Fraser wouldn't let it stand at that. Generously, he would tell Ray that he'd had his vacation; he felt refreshed and was almost looking forward to going back, seeing his friends.

It wouldn't be true, of course, but love was about sacrifice, and Fraser would sacrifice the wilderness if it meant Ray would be happy.

Just not yet. A little longer. Fraser had spent four years in Chicago - a little longer wouldn't hurt Ray. Another few days, a week, maybe even a month. And maybe Ray would settle down again. Anything was possible, even that Ray could come to love the wilds of Canada as much as Fraser did.

If he didn't...if he couldn't...

No. Fraser wasn't going to think about that. The future would take care of itself.

* * * * *

At least with the fire burning, there was some color. Flames made the snow yellow, orange, gave it motion. Night was always better.

And Fraser was behind him, sitting on one of their packs, mending a hole in one of Ray's sweaters, while Ray leaned back against one of his legs. Ray was comfortably drowsy, almost warm between fire and Mountie, and full from the rabbit stew that had been their dinner. As he sewed, Fraser randomly reached down to stroke Ray's hair, making Ray feel even warmer. Dief lay curled around Fraser's other foot, his furry back pressed against one of Ray's thighs.

Even now, though, he couldn't escape the snow. It was still beneath him, around him, everywhere. Their little family was so small, completely dwarfed by their surroundings. Him and Fraser and Dief - and the endless, endless snow.

"Hey, Fraser?" It was so quiet out here at night - even his near whisper seemed loud in comparison.

"Yes, Ray?" Fraser responded in kind.

"I wanna go home."

The words hung in the air for a time, as cold and frozen as the snow. "I know." The words barely breathed - Fraser's hand pulled back from Ray's hair.

"So you think we should talk about this?" There was silence from above him, and Ray forced himself to keep going. Fraser couldn't shut him out this time - this was too important. "Cause, you know, this was a lot of fun and exciting, but we've been out here a long time, and sometimes if feels like we're just kinda wandering, and I feel lost and there's just all this...snow. I miss - it's weird, ya know? I miss Welsh and Frannie and Huey and Dewey, and even kinda Vecchio, just cause he's, you know, there in Chicago."

Still, Fraser wasn't answering, and Ray felt the cold once again creeping into his body, settling around him. "But I don't want to leave you - I'm not gonna. So, if you still wanna stay out here - if you're not ready to go home yet - well, I guess this is your home, but my home - well, then, we can stay as long as you want."

That got a response from Fraser, and he slid down beside Ray, dislodging an unhappy Dief. "Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray." His arms wrapped around Kowalski, pulled the Chicago detective close against him. Fraser kissed Ray's ear, the side of his forehead, his cheek. "I'm sorry. I've been - we can go back to Chicago. We will. Starting tomorrow, we'll head south."

"Are you sure? I mean, I know this is where you belong, and all."

"Wherever you are, that's where I belong."

* * * * *

Hands wet and soapy from the dishes, Ray Vecchio had no desire to go answer the door. "Ma, Maria - could somebody get that?"

"I've got it," came his mother's voice from the living room. Ray continued to scrub at a stubborn spot, keeping one ear towards the front door. He heard it swing open - he really needed to remember and oil those hinges soon - and his mother squeal in what sounded like either extreme happiness or mortal terror. "Benton! Raymond! Oh, it's been so long. Raimondo! Look who's here!"

But Ray was only a couple steps behind her. He stopped, his feet rooted to the floor as he came around the corner and saw - with his own eyes - Fraser and Kowalski standing in the entryway, both caught up in a fierce hug from his ma. "Good to see you, Mrs. Vecchio."

"Oh, now Ray, you should call me 'Ma.' Don't think you're no longer part of this family, just because Raimondo came home to me."

Ray managed to break his paralysis and step forward, drawing the attention of Fraser. "Ray!" He was caught up in strong Mountie arms, almost losing the ability to breathe, Fraser was squeezing him so tightly.

"Benny - it's so good to see you back. Welcome home." Even being able to feel Fraser - actually feel him there - it was hard to believe he was really there. Had actually come back to Chicago. The hug almost lifted him off his feet, and then he was released to face Kowalski, who was staring at the floor, shuffling his feet.

"Hey, Kowalski."

"Vecchio." It was so good to see Fraser - to see both of them. His exuberance drove him to grab Kowalski in an Italian hug, kissing him on both cheeks.

Behind him, his mother was still chattering away at Fraser. "You boys should stay for dinner. Really, you must."

Kowalski pushed himself away from Ray, his expression caught somewhere between pure masculine affront and genuine laughter. Ray winked at him, then returned his attention to Fraser and his ma.

"I must apologize, Mrs. Vecchio, but we can't stay tonight. Ray and I have unpacking to do, as well as some cleaning. After eight months, the apartment is in an advanced state of neglect."

"Ah, I can understand. Raimando, you should go with them. Help. Catch up with your friends."

Kowalski didn't look like he much cared for that idea. "Really, that's okay-"

"Ray, that would be wonderful."

"Ma, I don't want to leave you here with the dishes and dinner-"

"Nonsense. You go with them." Little shooing gestures with her hands, and the matter was settled. Ma and Fraser had decided; he and Stanley were just along for the ride. With an apologetic shrug at Kowalski, Vecchio followed Fraser out the door.

Fraser kept up a constant stream of dialogue on the car ride to Kowalski's apartment. Every now and again, Stanley would try to get a word in edgewise, but after the third "Oh, now Ray, I'm certain if you try, you'll recall...," he gave up to focus on the road. Ray just leaned back in the seat, happy to have his friend - friends home at last.

Upon reaching the apartment, Ray was nearly bowled over by an explosion of fur and barking as ninety pounds of wolf hit him full force. "Dief! Buddy!" He managed to get his arms around the wriggling, wagging mass. "Hey, I missed you too."

"Diefenbaker!" Fraser sounded affronted at Dief's less than civilized behavior.

"I swear, he's happier to see that dog than he was to see you." Kowalski simply sounded petulant. Ray couldn't imagine what his problem was, and at the moment, couldn't care less.

"Aw, he just missed me." Dief's whine clearly communicated how upset he was that Ray had left him all alone with *them* - who never fed him at all. "Hey look, sometime this week, you and me will go out for pizza when they're not around."

Fraser gave Ray a stern look. "You know he does not need pizza."

"Sure, Benny." Giving Dief a wink, Ray rolled up his sleeves and surveyed the apartment. "Where do we start?"

It was frighteningly easy to settle back into being around Fraser, finding the place they had left off at nearly three years ago. Friendship, mixed with a little something extra. That sparkle, that strange magnetic pull of being with Fraser. Just like old times, only in a good way, since thus far, no cries for help, burning buildings, or abandoned children had interrupted their evening.

Even Kowalski couldn't bring Ray down, despite his black mood that seemed to be growing by the minute. That was fine with Ray - Fraser and Dief were great company, and Kowalski could just sit and sulk if that was what he wanted to do.

Time simply flew by until it was way past his bedtime. Fraser seemed to notice the way he was yawning as he organized books on the shelf and came over beside him, resting a hand on his arm. "Ray, it's late. You've been greatly helpful, but perhaps it's time to quit for the evening."

"F'you say so, Benny." Ray fought to stifle a yawn and lost the battle. "Guess I am a little tired. Not used to all this manual labor - carrying boxes and all."

Fraser's smile had not become any less dazzling in the past eight months that he was gone. "Thank you kindly for coming over here."

"No sweat. What are friends for, right?"

Kowalski broke the spell of the moment, clearing his throat loudly. "So I guess I better get you home. Get yer coat."

It still took a conscious reminder that Fraser would be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. He was home now, and it was all right if Ray left now, because he'd see him again soon. "Night, Fraser. Call me and we can do lunch or something."

"I'd like that very much, Ray. Good night."

Vecchio followed Kowalski outside into the cold Chicago night. "And here I thought you'd be happy to get home."

"Shut up."

"I'm glad to see living with Fraser hasn't improved your manners any."

Kowalski unlocked the passenger side door, held it open. "Get in the car."

Nothing was worth getting into an argument with Kowalski, if Stanley was in such a foul mood. The ride back to his house wasn't so long that silence would kill either of them. Whatever Ray's problem was, Fraser could deal with it.

* * * * *

Stupid. Ray had been stupid, not thinking. Chicago was home, but Chicago was Vecchio, too, and what had Ray been thinking? Fraser and Vecchio. Of course it had been easy for Fraser to be with Ray in Canada where there was no Vecchio, but this was Chicago and there was Vecchio - lots of them, in fact. Not that Ray was worried about any but the one. The only. The Real Ray Vecchio.

Ray wasn't aware of how many traffic laws he broke on the way home, and didn't care. You weren't supposed to drive angry - Ray knew that - but he wanted to. It felt good, driving, angry or not, but especially angry sometimes. Especially when it wasn't just anger, it was fear, too. A little, deep down. Or maybe a lot, and higher up.

Vecchio. Vecchio Vecchio Vecchio. The way they'd been talking all night - the way Fraser hadn't seemed to even notice Ray was in the room while Vecchio was there. Stupid of Ray to think it was really over. How could it be? They'd just run away to Canada - run away, not really solved anything. And now they were back, and it was just the same as before. Just the same.

He slammed the door shut behind him as he came back into his apartment, not thinking or caring about which neighbors he might be waking up with the noise. Fraser looked up from where he'd been washing dishes. "Ray, is something wrong?" As ever, the master of understatement.

Not that Ray really wanted to discuss anything with Fraser. "No. Everything's just fucking great." Breezing past Fraser, hesitating just long enough to rip off his jacket and toss it on the couch, Ray shut himself in the bedroom with possibly even greater force than he'd used to enter the house.

But Fraser - naturally, why had Ray expected anything different - refused to take the hint, and the door was back open a few moments later. "Really, Ray, I feel as though your answer may have been less than completely forthright."

"Well, maybe I don't feel like being forth-nothing with you right now, okay?" With a practiced flip of his ankles, Ray kicked first one shoe, then the other off his foot and against the wall.

"If something is bothering you-"

"I don't wanna talk about it. Right now, I just want to - to not talk about it."

Of course, that wasn't good enough for Fraser. Nothing less than Fraser's way was ever good enough for Fraser. He came up behind Ray, lay a hand on Ray's shoulder. "This is no way-"

"Fraser, don't make me have to hit you again."

Fraser's hand clamped tighter on Ray's shoulder, spun him around, dragged him against Fraser for a rough, possessive, demanding kiss. Damn the Mountie for being able to do this, taking all Ray's righteous anger and flaring it into passion.

Ray's brain was swimming by the time his mouth was released. "Now, can we discuss this? You've been brooding all night, and I would like to know why."

"Look, it's - I just - cause I - cause you...causa him. And you. Okay? You happy now?" As was almost always the case, the stony - I'm-not-going-to-look-hurt look on Fraser's face made Ray regret...everything. Regret, yes, but he couldn't stop it. Couldn't keep back the jealousy, the anger - the fear.

"I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't realize."

"I know I'm just being stupid, Fraser."

In a perfect world, that admission would have drawn immediate agreement and reassurance from the Mountie. He would have kissed Ray again, told him he *was* being stupid and Fraser loved him best and nothing - not even The Real Ray Vecchio was going to come between them. But this wasn't a perfect world, and Fraser just stood there, giving Ray a deep, thoughtful look.

So Ray pulled away from him. "Or maybe I'm not."

"Ray, don't do this. I shouldn't have to-"

"Maybe you shouldn't," Ray was yelling again, "But maybe you could anyway, cause it would make me feel better. Is that so tough? Is it? Is that too much for me to be asking, after you spend all night flirting with the guy and treating him like he's some sorta...perfect...I don't know, but that's how you were treating him."

Fraser's voice was taking on the sharp tone that meant Fraser was really upset. "Now that simply is *not* true. If you hadn't been sulking like a child all night we would have been happy to include you-"

"We? Oh, so you two are a 'we' now. Well, that's just great, Fraser. Just perfect."

"I'm not going to talk to you if you're not going to converse in a reasonable, civilized fashion. If you insist on interrupting me-"

"Fine. I didn't want to talk to you in the first place." Another door slammed, and Ray was in the bathroom. This time, he locked it behind him.

Of course Fraser wasn't going to deny it, deny spending the evening focused on Vecchio. Any idiot could have seen what was going on between the two of them. Or what would be. Even if Fraser tried to deny it - even if it was the truth, it was only a matter of time. It wasn't like Fraser could be around Vecchio and not start to fall back in love with him - to fall back into attraction - cause who could be around Vecchio and not start to feel -

Fraser would. He'd loved Vecchio when he and Vecchio were partners; he'd loved Vecchio when he and Ray were partners. What had Ray been thinking, that it would suddenly go away? That it wouldn't come back once Fraser could actually see Vecchio, be around him, in the same room, feel that energy that seemed to radiate off Vecchio....

"Ray? Ray, please unlock this door. This isn't helping anything. Why do you insist on being like this?"

"Oh sure, like this is my fault."

Damned Mountie super-hearing - even Ray's mumbling seemed perfectly intelligible. "I never said it was your fault. Look, could you just open the door?"

There was that irritated note again. "Don't wanna."

A long pause - Ray could just imagine Fraser standing there, hand on the door, staring as though his gaze could pierce the solid wood. "Ray, please. I don't want to argue with you."

Now Fraser only sounded tired. The tone of his voice drained some of the fight from Ray. "Do you love me, Fraser?"

"How can you ask me that?"

Never a direct answer. Why couldn't Fraser ever give him a direct answer? "I just did, that's how. I just wanna hear you say it."

"Of course, Ray. I love you. Now will you open the door?"

Head down, shoulders still tense, Ray went to unlatch the door. Fraser pulled it open slowly. "I just...I just don't want you going back to him."

Fraser raised a hand to Ray's face, slowly brushing his fingers back through Ray's hair, sending tiny flakes of dried mousse falling like snow in their wake. "I love you," he repeated softly. "Never doubt that."

"It was...the way you - and he - and all night...." Ray simply gave up. There was no way to express everything to Fraser, and trying might just lead to getting mad again, and Ray didn't really want that. "Just promise you won't leave me, okay?"

"Never. I came back to Chicago for you, Ray, not for him."

Anger had faded, mostly. Jealousy - still there, probably would always be there a little. It was impossible to banish thoughts - images - Fraser and Vecchio touching, groping, fucking. So easy to imagine, to know what they would both be like. Fear....

Fear. It was such an uncomfortable feeling for Ray. He hated being afraid - so rarely was - it turned his stomach. But he wouldn't let it poison what was between him and Fraser. "I know that, Frase. I'm sorry. Guess I just...I don't know. It's late."

"That it is, Ray." Fraser's lips touched his temple; the warmth of Fraser's breath stirred the soft spikes at his brow, now released from their hair-care prison. "Come to bed."

Ray's bed - now their bed. No more questions, no more doubts. Why did he still have doubts? What brand of stupid was he to think Fraser would do that to him - would just leave, after everything they'd promised each other? Ray's home, now Fraser's home too. "Just wasn't thinking, I guess."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize. You had said you missed him too; I thought you would be happy to see him. It's my fault; I should have thought it through better."

"Not your fault, Frase. Not your fault I'm a freak. Don't worry bout it." He managed a crooked smile, one eyebrow raised in a self-mocking expression. "I know you're not going to just leave me like that." Like he did, like she did, like.... "I'm just being crazy."

"Understood." Fraser kissed him, and it was okay again. It was always okay when Fraser kissed him. Nothing else could touch them, it seemed, could come between them when Fraser's lips were pressed against his own. Everything was made all right.

Even better when Fraser tugged on his shirt to get him to stumble forward - tongue still wrapped around Fraser's - into the bedroom. Fraser kept backing up until his thighs hit the edge of the bed, then sat down, pulling Ray down with him to straddle his lap. The whine that came from behind him didn't distract Ray enough to make him stop kissing Fraser, but he did wave wildly at Dief to get off the bed. With a pathetic noise that came from deep in his throat, Dief dragged himself off the mattress, padded dejectedly from the room.

"He's just upset because I wouldn't let him go home with Ray."

"He'll end up living with Vecchio if he's not careful."

"Now, Ray, you don't mean that."

"Try me."

Instead, Fraser kissed him again, lying back and pulling Ray down with him. It was good - it was always so good with Fraser, had always been good. No matter what problems they had, the sex was always so very good. But that was part of love - the feel of it all. It felt so good to be with Fraser, his presence, his touch, his voice, everything. Fraser was *there* and Fraser was good, and how could it not have been love from the beginning if it had always felt this good?

And the Mountie's solid chest was beneath him, and those strong thighs were rubbing against his, and those deft fingers were searching across the small of his back for especially sensitive spots that Fraser knew just how to find, and that soft hair was tickling Ray's nose as he sucked one of Fraser's earlobes into his mouth. Perfect. Wonderful. Exciting.

Why did Fraser insist on wearing shirts with all those tiny buttons? They always seemed to get in the way, becoming stubborn when Ray most wanted them to come open. Unfair, but just one of life's little inconsequences - no, that wasn't right - inconveniences that you just had to deal with, live with, learn to love because it was part of Fraser and Ray loved everything that was part of Fraser.

Ray's shirt, on the other hand, was incredibly easy to remove. Over the head, sweat-shirt and t-shirt all in one pull, and his upper half was as bare as Fraser's. And that was good, damn good, as Ray slowly rubbed the length of his body against Fraser's, chest to chest, leg to leg, cock to cock. It was all good.

Cold air against his thighs and butt, as Fraser helped him worm out of his jeans. That was okay. Especially with Fraser's mouth so warm against his neck, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm under Ray. Steady, deep breaths that raised and lowered Ray's body, completely at odds with the racing beats of Fraser's heart. It was the heart that mattered, always the heart. Fraser's heart belonged to Ray, and Ray's to Fraser, and that made it all wonderful.

Fraser's hand - that big, strong, calloused hand that could wrap around both their erections at once, stroke both of them at the same time. And, oh, this was better than good. Fraser's tongue inside his mouth, joining them, making them one. The sensual friction of his body against Fraser's as he slowly moved against Fraser's hand, finding the right rhythm, in time with Fraser's breathing or in time with the moon changing - Ray didn't know or care, only that this was their beat, their dance, always in synch, in tandem.

Together.

And the rhythm was perfect. Ray felt Fraser shudder against him; they came together. The dance ended, and that was all right, because there would be more. Plenty more. Fraser wasn't going anywhere. Wasn't going anywhere. Wasn't going anywhere. Was pulling the covers around them, was falling asleep in Ray's arms, Ray wrapped similarly in his.

All good. All perfect.

Nothing was going to spoil this. It couldn't. Ray wouldn't let it.

* * * * *

The purr of Ray's cell phone in his pocket didn't pull his eyes from the road for so much as a flicker, but he pulled it out, his finger locating the "send" button with the ease of familiarity. "Yeah?"

"Raimondo, where are you?"

"Got caught in traffic, Ma. I'm on my way to the station. What, Francesca getting impatient?"

"No, she's found herself a ride home. I wanted to let you know you don't have to get her, but please bring me a gallon of milk and a new package of flour from the store."

"No problem; I got it."

Another press of another button, and the call was ended. Ray fearlessly dodged and wove through rush-hour Chicago traffic, aiming away from the 27^th station house and towards the grocery store closest to home.

The shiny black car parked in his driveway gave Ray a bit of warning of the guest in the house. That and the extra plate at the table as he came through the dining room. "Here you go, Ma. Milk and flour." Ray set the bag down next to his mom.

"Raymond is joining us for dinner tonight, Caro."

"I figured that." It hadn't escaped Ray's attention, the way Kowalski - busy stirring a pot of boiling pasta - started at the sound of his voice. The possibility occurred to Ray that Kowalski had not expected him to be there when he'd accepted the dinner invitation. "You bring Frannie home?"

"Yeah." His voice still had that sullen tone. Did Kowalski do anything *but* pout these days?

Apparently not, judging by the somewhat suspicious look his mother was giving the two of them. So this was a sudden mood swing. Nothing too shocking - Stanley had always been a sudden mood swing kind of guy. It hardly mattered one way or the other to Vecchio.

But now there were other forces involved. His mother followed him from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "Stop right there."

When she took that tone, Ray's automatic response was instant obedience. Even as a grown man one hair's breadth away from forty, she could make him stop on a dime when she took that time. "What?"

"You tell me what's wrong between you and Raymond. He's a good boy - I don't want this fighting in my house."

"Ma, there's always fighting in this house. We're not really even fighting. He's just being a..." Ray stopped himself only barely in time to avoid 'bitch' "brat. Besides, he's the one with the problem. Go ask him; I just live here." He managed to get two steps up before she stopped him again.

"Is this about Benton?"

Ray shrugged, pushing away the sudden tension that had come to his shoulders. "Like I said, ask him."

She called after him as he continued up the stairs. "I expect you to do something about this."

That was certainly nothing new. It was his ma's way to expect Ray to fix everything. Only this thing he wasn't sure just how to fix because he still wasn't sure what was broken. He suspected it had to do with Fraser, but....

But there was still so much between them, even outside of Fraser. Things they'd never talked about. A past Ray had come to regret - even feel slightly guilty for - that Kowalski had been a part of. The air would continue to be heavy between them, probably, until one of them said something, anything. Until they actually talked.

Ray was hardly eager about the idea. Talking for him was usually a last resort, but in this case he felt like he owed Kowalski something.

If his pop were here, he'd have asked why, what did Ray really owe the skinny pollock with funny hair? And Ray wasn't even sure he had an answer to that question, much less one that his father would find acceptable. After all, he'd handed Fraser over. What more could anyone ask than that?

But he'd hurt Kowalski, long ago. Possibly even more recently. Blood for blood, pain for pain - rules of the street. So they'd talk. For Ma. For him.

Not for Fraser. That was too easy - too cheap. A thin veneer of 'friendship for the sake of Fraser' would never hold. It would merely be a brittle, opaque layer of lies over a foundation of darkness that would break through eventually. This would have to be for himself and for Ray, and only after they'd found some sort of balance could Fraser be brought into the equation.

Dinner was quiet on the part of the two Rays. Of course, it went primarily unnoticed around the Vecchio table, never quiet by any stretch of the imagination. Several times Ray caught Kowalski looking at him, but always he'd turn away rather than hold Ray's gaze. This wasn't looking at all like it was going to be easy.

After dinner was over and the table cleared, Ray managed to corner Kowalski before he fled. "Hey, you got a minute?"

"What?" Kowalski spun on him, eyes flashing. This was the Ray Kowalski Ray remembered, bluster and fire, not this sullen moping.

"Easy there, cuz. Just wanted to talk to you, if you've got the time."

"I got nothing to say to you, Vecchio."

Ray shrugged, refusing to flinch away from Ray's challenging gaze. Just a simple game of chicken, and Ray had played with a lot scarier players than Stanley Raymond Kowalski. "So don't say anything. Stand there and keep your mouth shut, for all I care. I've got plenty to say to you." Not entirely true - Ray wasn't quite sure what he planned to say, but he didn't expect Kowalski to be able to just stand quietly and listen long enough to call his bluff.

A simple game of chicken, and Kowalski blinked first. "Fine, whatever. What have you got to say?"

"Let's go outside." Kowalski followed without protest onto the porch. No reason for the entire household to be involved in their discussion. "So, you back at the 27?"

"Sure."

Ray leaned back easily against a column, looked out at the street, at the neighbor's shrubs, anywhere that wasn't directly at Kowalski. Direct eye contact was always a challenge, and Ray wasn't ready to be challenging just yet. "Welsh give you your old job?"

"Your old job," the blonde corrected him.

"Sure. My job." A deep breath - he could see it clouding around his face - as he organized his thoughts, tried to figure out where to begin. "So, you and Fraser settled back in okay?" Fraser couldn't be a foundation, but he could at least be a conversation entry point.

"Yeah, I guess."

How many one syllable answers could he get from Kowalski. "He back working at the consulate?"

That earned Ray a slightly more expansive answer. "Naw. He's got a bunch of vacation time stored up. All that time we were in Canada, he was technically on duty, so now he's taking some time off before he goes back to work." A brief smile broke through the mask of indifference Kowalski wore. "Not that he's really taking time off. Down at the station, every day, doing his lesion thing, only kinda unofficial."

"It was never all that official to begin with. Mainly Fraser following me around, keeping me from solving any crime in an easy, logical manner."

That dragged a snort of laughter from the detective. "At least the Ice Queen's gone. Met the new guy running the consulate. He's kinda a freak, but in a good, Canadian kinda way. Think he'll be okay."

"That's good."

This time, the silence was a bit more comfortable, but Ray couldn't think of anything else to bring up that wouldn't be dangerous. In lieu of a safe topic, he'd simply take the bull by the horns. "You know, I have no intentions of trying to steal Fraser from you."

"Not like you could." The answer was too quick, a little too heated.

"Sure, Kowalski. You're right; I probably couldn't."

"What, you think I'm wrong? You think you could sweep in and just - just drag him away like some piper with rats or something?"

Hyper-Kowalski, Ray could deal with. "Calm down; I wasn't saying anything. I was agreeing with you. Isn't that allowed? I know it's a shockingly rare occurrence for you, but why don't you try giving it a chance, just this once?"

But then, as suddenly as he had appeared, Hyper-Kowalski was gone, replaced once again by Dejected-Kowalski. "You're probably right, there. Prob'bly could steal him away if you tried." He turned away from Ray, but Ray could still hear his mumbled "Fuck."

"Come on, Raymond-"

"You know, you could have anybody you want. Why does it have to be him?"

Somehow they'd gotten way off book. "First of all, like I keep saying, he's yours. You win. Second of all, I don't know where you get this idea I could have anybody. It's not entirely true."

"Sure it is." Ray stayed facing away, the back of his head golden ripples in the porchlight. "I mean, you're...you. The guy I always wanted to be. I wanted so bad to have your life - you know, different person in bed every night, swinging bachelor, all that kinda thing. You acted like everything was so easy, just came to you when you wanted, all easy."

"Swinging bachelor, sure. I lived with my mother and spent most of my time hanging out with the world's oldest living boy scout."

But Ray didn't act like he'd even heard. "When they offered me this job, being you, I couldn't imagine anything more cool. Guess I kinda thought the life would come with it. But it didn't really. Still my life, basically, only with a different name on my desk.

"Fraser, though. Fraser - he was something different. Something...I don't know...just, special. And even then, he was just another part of your life. Still in love with you. A year and a half we'd been sleeping together - off 'n on - before you came back, and mostly what I heard was how much he loved you."

Ray came up quietly behind Kowalski, squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "And now I've got him, but I can't shake this fear that if you just whistled, he'd come running. And even though I know it's stupid - I think it's stupid - I can't help feeling that way."

"I don't think that's true. And it's not like I'm going to whistle anyway."

"Even on the phone - that call we made to you - it was like he was asking your permission or something. Even after we'd talked, and he'd told me he wanted to go on an adventure, he was still asking your permission."

Permission Ray had given, because Benny deserved better than him. But telling Ray that probably wouldn't help the situation any. "Hey, look, it's like this. You know how stubborn Fraser can get when he gets an idea into his head, right?"

"Sure."

"Okay, so he'd gotten it through his head he was in love with me. I just got out of his line of sight so he could realize I wasn't really the one he was looking for, just the first one he saw." Ray was fairly impressed with himself at how well that had come out, wasn't at all expecting Kowalski to turn suddenly to face him, green eyes once more burning with anger.

"How could you do that to me?"

There it was, out in the open. And Ray still didn't have an answer. "I don't know. I don't know. I was basically a shit back then. Still am, a bit - maybe not as much as I used to be." He raised his hand to Kowalski's cheek, smoothing back the shadows. "Look, in the long run, it all turned out for the best. You deserved better. You deserve Fraser." And Fraser deserved better, but until Vecchio found an actual angel wandering the Earth, Kowalski would do just fine.

"And what if he came to you, asked you to take him back?"

"Now you're just making up problems. Don't be dumb, Stanley."

"Don't call me that."

Ray's fingers were still stroking the side of Kowalski's face, and Kowalski had thus far made no effort to pull away. "It's your name, isn't it?" He flashed Kowalski a wolf-like grin, and dropped his hand, stepped back to put some distance between them.

"You know, you owe me a favor."

"Why's that, Vecchio?" There was still a bit of a shake to Kowalski's voice, but he'd leaned back against the railing, taking that cavalier slouch that seemed to radiate confidence.

How quick the slide into cockiness. How very Kowalski. "I stood up for you with your ex - yelled at her in a restaurant, in fact."

"Stella let you yell at her?"

"Like Stella could stop me from doing anything I damn well pleased. She was saying mean things about you. I told her I didn't appreciate that."

Ray shrugged, pulled himself up to sit on the railing, his feet swing idly several inches off the ground. "She never really had a lot of nice things to say about me. Used to be she didn't believe I was perfect, but she still thought she could turn me into a fine, upstanding citizen. Then, I guess, she sorta gave up on that. Surprised you were all that eager to argue with her."

"Sure. I thought it was kind of rude. Tearing at her ex in front of a near stranger."

"If you can't tear up your ex, who can you rip up?"

"I tell you, she seemed a bit stunned when I hinted that you and I had had a thing."

"You didn't! What did you say?"

"Only that I'd been the one to put you back together after she took you apart."

Kowalski rolled his eyes at that. "Hardly."

"Oh, you don't think so? Face it, Kowalski, you were a mess." He smiled as Kowalski opened his mouth for another protest. "But still eminently fuckable."

"Fuckable. What does that mean? I mean, isn't nearly everybody fuckable?"

Another shrug as Ray leaned back against his own column, unconsciously adopting a languid pose that mirrored Kowalski's. "I guess, but I always thought the word conveyed something special. The type of person that you just can't help but think of hot, desperate sex when you look at them."

That all to familiar tilt of the head - Kowalski flirting. "And what do you think about when you look at me, Vecchio?"

His tone alone was a come-on. This had gotten way off book. This level of flirting - even knowing full well neither of them intended to go through with anything - hoped neither of them intended to go through with anything - was more than Ray had planned or prepared for this evening. "I think that Fraser's an awfully lucky guy." A lie, blatantly a lie. Fraser would be able to tell if he were here, but Fraser wasn't here so it didn't matter. And even Fraser wouldn't be able to read his mind enough to see what Ray was really thinking when Kowalski sat like that, took on that low, silky tone. Even Fraser couldn't pull from his head the images of Kowalski naked, head thrown back, legs spread, impaled on-

They'd talked enough for the night. "It's probably time for you to be getting on home."

"Yeah, you're probably right." They stood awkwardly a moment, fumbling for words.

"Later, Vecchio."

"Sure, Stanley. Friends?"

"Not if you're gonna keep calling me that."

"Then never mind. See ya."

Vecchio stayed on the porch until the GTO disappeared around the corner, then retreated back into the house, lost in entirely inappropriate thoughts about men that were most definitely not his.