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 twenty 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 episode takes place approximately nine months after the events of the series finale, and three weeks after "Menage-a-Ray." 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

"Its Own Reward"

Barbara J. Webb

This is not okay. In fact, this is more kinds of whacked-out wrong than I can possibly list - or even that Fraser could list if he were here, which he's not, and that's part of what's wrong. Not that he isn't here, cause I'm not so fucking crazy yet I can't go anywhere without him, but its wrong because the thing I'm about to do I can only do with him not here - want to do with him not here. And that's not okay. Not at all.

But what else could I do?

No, no, not trying to say that this is really only thing I can do. Lotsa stuff I could do. Not trying to say this is Fraser's fault, or like he drove me to this or nothing. All my fault I can't talk to him, tell him - but I can't. Stupid. And I'm here, about to be really stupid, but I don't know where else to go.

Breaking and entering; that's what this is. Only not technically, since I used a key, and Mrs. Vecchio said to come over any time, but I don't think this is really what she meant. Don't think she'd approve at all. Not sure I approve. Actually, know I don't.

Shit - he just moved. Is he - no, not awake. This is creepyweird, just standing here like this, with him asleep and it's the middle of the night, but where else? Cause it's not like there's anyone else I can talk to. Just Fraser, my partner, my lover, my everything and I can talk to him about anything except him, and so what happens when he's the one that's got me all crazy?

Stupid me, stupid me. Three weeks and I haven't even talked to him. Three weeks. Frase has - know they went to lunch a few times, and even dinner and some chick-flick one night. Fraser always invited me to go, but didn't want to. Didn't want to see him. But here I am, right here, about to see all sortsa' him.

What do I do when Fraser can't just say it's all right and make it be true?

Still can't quite decide if I've got the guts to get naked first. Don't know why I'm afraid - not really like he's going to say no. For all his grandiose pretensions, Vecchio thinks with his dick just like every other guy. Almost every other guy. Cept Frase. Just fucking perfect, my Fraser. Not like the rest of us. Vecchio, he's as flawed as me, and I think we got us an understanding. So, yeah, clothes go on the floor, and he can just fucking try to kick me out.

I should go, I should go. Going crazy here, and this isn't going to help anything. Not that I'm afraid of getting caught or anything, but it's like my third grade Sunday school teacher used to tell us all the time, about goodness being its own reward, and while I'm sure that has to be Fraser's motto, it's not as easy as she made it sound, or he makes it look. Hard to be good just for the sake of being good, and I know this is wrong, but he's lying there naked, and it's hard to think about anything else.

Real stealthy, I manage to get the covers back enough that I can get in there with him, and Jesus, he's naked too, and that's just fine with me. I rest one knee on the bed, moving real slow so the mattress doesn't shift too much at once. Lean over him, so my lips are right above his ear. Just sit there a minute, breathing on him. He sorta seems to notice, stirs a bit, turns his head.

An I whisper in his ear. "Vecchio."

His eyes shoot open, and he looks damn confused there for a second. No suave, Mr. Armani-wearing, Real Ray Vecchio here right now, and that suits me just fine. "Kowalski?"

I don't give him a chance to think, just kiss him. He's too startled to fight. No Mr. Tough Guy Attitude here from him, and that's okay, because I'm feeling enough attitude for the two of us. Got to. If I let the attitude slip, start feeling these things pushing at it from behind, it'll just make me do something crazy like scream or cry or kiss Ray Vecchio like I'm drowning and he's my only air - and hey, I know what I'm talking about here - and lookit this, I'm already doing that last one. Guess I'm not as in control as I thought I was.

But I've still got a better handle on this than Vecchio, who really seems to be having trouble finding his cool when he's caught completely off guard. So much for his image. But then, it's just me here, and I know all about his image and what's real and what's not. Know the image. Know the man. Better than I should - better than I should want to. Sort of like a revelation, only can it really be a revelation when it's just finally putting together everything you know? More like cracking a case. Solving Ray Vecchio.

"Kowalski," he manages to gasp, pushing me back. That's okay, I let him catch his breath. I might be more worried, but he's hard as a rock already, so I figure I got what you might call a superior bargaining position. Not that I'm not hard too, but from the way he keeps glancing down like that, I figure that fact can only work in my favor. "Kowalski, what are you - why are you here?"

Naturally, in that annoying Vecchio way of his, he manages to hit on the one question I don't really have a good answer for. At least he's still not sharp enough to start calling me Stanley. "S'not important right now." A Fraser trick, and Vecchio knows that too. I can see it in the way he narrows his eyes. Just like me, Vecchio gives away everything when he doesn't have his mask on. Not so different. Never were, really.

Him and Fraser and me, all wearing our poker faces against the world, and Fraser the worst of us about it and I'm NOT going to think about him right now, don't want to.

So I lean down again, this time all the way on the bed, and I'm straddling Vecchio. "No, what are you - we can't." His mouth says no, but his body's saying yes yes yes, and his hips are moving, pressing his hot piece of meat against my ass, and how am I supposed to take this as a serious, refusal, especially with him pulling me back down to kiss him. A very unconvincing performance, from everybody's favorite undercover hero, and I'm the only one here to see it.

Not that I'm doing so well myself. I did, really, intend to just talk. Didn't come here for this. But the house was quiet and dark, and I just let myself in rather than wake everyone up with knocking. And who would have thought Mr. I'm-So-Cool would be in bed asleep at midnight, and just seeing him there, just seeing him and that's how everything just falls apart, boys and girls, and you never see it coming. Never ever see it fucking coming.

So here I am, hands pressing his shoulders to the bed, thighs locked around his waist, and my mouth just sorta hovers over his, and there are those eyes - those soft green eyes looking up and me, and how am I supposed to listen to what he's saying to me when he's giving me this *look*? It's like he's sucking me in, mesmerizing me by the power of his gaze or something. I don't want to look away.

But he's the one who breaks the eye contact, and I guess his brain's finally kicking in. Well, not the brain, but something, cause there goes any confusion from his face. And when he grabs my ass and pulls me closer to his face, I'm not feeling any confusion either. There's a look, his eyes, like he's laughing at me. Bastard is laughing at me, but before I can say anything, he's got my dick in his mouth and I'm finding it really hard to be upset about anything.

But this isn't quite exactly what I want, so I pull back away. Not far. "Going somewhere, Stanley?"

He is gonna pay for that, but not yet, not right now. Right now I twist around, bring a leg back over his head, lean down so my cock - which is screaming at me for more attention - is hanging right over his face, and I'm looking right at his. I just breathe on it a little, let him know I'm there. "You want this, Vecchio?"

"What are you, now, stupid?" He tries to lift his ass of the bed, push himself against my lips, but I'm on top of him and not gonna let that happen.

"Apologize."

He flicks his tongue across the sensitive spot, right under the head. "Apologize for what?" Another flicker. He's teasing me.

"For calling me Stanley."

"Not going to happen."

I use that same tongue-flicker on him. "I could tease you all night."

"You don't have that much patience."

"Wanna bet?" He's right, and I know he's right, and he knows he's right, but what can you do? I slide my tongue down the length of the silkysmooth skin, only barely touching. "I got a lot more patience than you think."

He chuckles - knows exactly how much patience I have. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry about the Stanley thing. You gonna suck me now?"

"You gonna stop calling me that?"

"No." A small victory, then, but it's the little things that get you through the day. And it's all a game, right? None of it serious. Can't be serious. Won't be serious.

Except I'm pretty fucking serious about the way I swallow his cock all the way down my throat. And he's up there doing the same to me, and it feels good, so good. His arms are wrapped around my waist, holding me against him while his throat works around my dick. My brain is pulled between him inside me and me inside him, back and forth, in and out. So fucking good.

So fucking good.

And he gets off first, but only barely. I don't want to move, and I guess neither does he, cause he doesn't. I rub my cheek against his leg, and his hand trails down my leg. "What're you doing, Kowalski?" he asks softly, and I can feel his words warm against my balls. "Does Fraser know you're here?"

"Oh yeah, I just told him not to wait up, that I was coming over here to screw you." He doesn't say anything - he's waiting. So damn patient, when he wants to be. How does he do that? Him and Fraser both. "I left a note - he was asleep - said I just went out for a walk." Lied to Fraser. Probably going straight to hell for that. Not that I usually believe people go to hell - at least, not unless they do something really awful, like serial killers and stuff - but lying to Fraser is probably on that short list of things so awful you burn forever.

He's quiet, maybe thinking. I'm not thinking. Trying not to think. Came here to talk, and now I'm not saying anything. Whole thing's crazy. "Still haven't told me why you're here."

"Maybe I was simply overwhelmed by lust."

"Yeah, right. You're sleeping with the Mountie. Can't imagine sexual frustration being one of your problems."

"Not - no, it's not." I think it's against the laws of nature to have any sort of problems when you're sleeping with Benton Fraser - at least, that's what Vecchio's tone of voice seems to be saying. So how come I'm here?

But Vecchio, he's got this way. Don't know what it is - maybe it's cause he's usually such a snarky bastard, but when he does get nice, I can't help but sorta melt a little. "Why don't you tell me what's got you so agitated?" And there's this warmth, and even though I can't see his face, I can imagine what it looks like when he takes that tone. Same look he had that first night we were together, the look that made me want to go home with him.

"Fraser, today, we were talking, and he, uh, he says he wants to go back to Canada."

"Yeah, I know."

"How the hell do you know?" I sit up, not feeling in the mood to be all cozy with him anymore. "What, did he tell you? He tell you first?"

But Vecchio, perverse bastard that he is, pulls me back down, against his chest. "Don't wake the house up, Kowalski. Yes, he told me, okay? We've talked about it a couple times."

"When? When did he tell you? How come he talked to you and not me?"

"Because he thought you might flip out if he said anything to you, and didn't want to cause a fight unless he was sure about how he felt." Can't believe he would tell Vecchio first. "And it looks like he was right."

I don't need this, don't need this from Vecchio. And Fraser was not right. "I am not flipping out."

"You lied to Fraser-"

"Not exactly."

"-broke into my house-"

"I got a key."

"-jumped me in my sleep-"

"I wasn't intending to do that."

"-and you say you're not flipping out a little bit?"

"Okay, so maybe a bit." Now he's petting my hair, and I hate that it feels good, because I wanna be mad at him - and at Fraser, both of 'em, but I can't stay mad at neither of them, cause I know I'm the one who's really the problem. Me. "I just - Canada. We only came back from there a month ago."

And it's cold, so very cold. That's all I can think of when I think of Canada. Cold, and the snow...and Fraser. And he's part of the cold, and man I really don't wanna start thinking about that again. Cause we're back in Chicago, and I thought everything would be okay once we got back to Chicago, and it is and it isn't, and.... "I don't wanna go back."

"So don't." Sounds so easy, when he says it like that. But it's not, really, and I think he knows that too, cause if anyone knows Fraser nearly as well as me, it's him. "He said he wasn't going to force you to go, and wasn't going to leave without you, so if you really don't want to...."

"Yeah, that's what he said." But it's not fair because I know how happy he was there, and how much he loves it there, and how much this isn't his home. Only thing keeping him here is me - he said that, and Fraser wouldn't lie about something like that. Guess I should be happy, that it's me and not Vecchio, but that's still a lot of pressure to put on a guy.

Don't want Fraser to be unhappy. Especially when it's my fault, like it would be if I made him stay here. But he'd be the only thing for me in Canada, like I'm the only thing keeping him here, and where does that leave us? "It's really cold up there."

"That it is," Vecchio agrees with me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Don't know what he's trying to get at, just agreeing with me like that.

"Jesus, Kowalski, I'm just saying that it's cold. It is cold, okay? Don't have a fit."

And even though his voice is annoyed, his arms are still tight around me. Nothing like Fraser - who's more like Stella was. When he's annoyed, or upset, or really anything, he's never just friendly like this, warm. Yeah, okay, sometimes we do have sex - good sex - great sex, but there's still kinda this coldness to it. "Cold like Canada."

"What?"

"Nothing. I was thinking is all."

"About Fraser?"

Vecchio, he's not dumb. And he knows Frase almost as well as I do. "Kinda."

"I used to get mad at Benny all the time, for acting like he never felt anything. Not like that ever did any good. I swear, nothing I ever did managed to phase the man."

"That's just it." He's hit the nail on the head, which is maybe not so good, because it just makes me want to talk about it, and I probably shouldn't be saying these things to an outsider, but how much of an outsider can Vecchio really be in all of this. Fucked up, is what we all are. "It's like, nothing can get to him, deep down. It's like...." I stop, not quite sure what I'm trying to say. Or rather, I know what I'm trying to say, but not in a way that I quite know how to say it. Not that I'm even sure I want to say it to Vecchio.

"Ice prince of the north," Vecchio says, and I'm not sure he's even talking to me now.

And maybe it's just that, the fact that Vecchio knows all this for himself already, because I know he'll understand that makes me want to talk to him. Maybe it's just because I want to talk, and no way could I ever say this stuff to anyone else, not just because it's personal, but because I couldn't ever really say anything that might be bad about Fraser to an outsider, but Vecchio already knows, and still loves Fraser anyway, and isn't going to think anything worse about Fraser, so that makes it a little more okay.

Or maybe I just gotta talk to somebody, and that's all Fraser's fault, because I used to be fine not talking to nobody, but now I'm so used to talking to him, and telling him everything. "I feel like, sometimes, like he'd stay in Chicago and not leave me just because he told me he would, not because that would really be his first choice if he had a choice. It's more about Mountie honor, than about me, you know? Sometimes I feel like, if I wasn't there, Fraser's life would just go on about like it is. I mean, for all his talk of being in love with you, when you left, he just kept being Fraser, only with me instead of you, and, I mean, you and me, we got stuff in common, but we're not all that much alike, and Fraser just kept on being Fraser."

Vecchio's just being quiet, letting me talk, like he gets, sometimes, like I remember him getting sometimes, with me. Don't know if he's ever like this with other people - kinda like to think maybe he's not. Never seen him be. "That's it, I guess. Fraser's always Fraser. With me, he's the same Fraser as he is with everybody else. And I love that Fraser - lots - but I sometimes wish I had - that maybe I'd gotten to him, or changed him somehow, like he has me. I don't always feel like...like it's me that's really, or the real, or...."

I stop a second, try to organize my thoughts, try to find what it is I'm trying to say. "Fraser and me, we're partners. Great partners. Working with him is so good, and we click, and it's great - better than anything I could ever have imagined. And we're friends. Can't imagine life without him, and I can talk to him, and it's great there too. And the sex...unghh, the sex - it's great. Really, really great. But it's that in between space, that somewhere between friendship and sex, and that's where Fraser seems...seems...cold." Best word I can find.

"Not enough romance for you?" And he's said it exactly, well, almost exactly. But close enough I think he understand.

"It's not like I'm missing flowers and chocolates or anything, cause Fraser does that just fine, it's just...I don't know, like there's this effervescent thing not there."

He looks at me funny for a second. "Ephemeral, Raymond?"

"Yeah, like that." Still makes me all shivery when he calls me that. Shouldn't. Wish it didn't. Never understood how Vecchio could do that; Fraser's perfect, course he makes me feel like this. He makes everybody feel like this. But Vecchio? How fucked up can you get?

Fraser. Like Stella, kinda. It was kinda the same way between us. In the beginning, at least, before it all went really bad. And what if that happens between Fraser and me, up in Canada, where all I have is him? And it's so fucking cold.

But again, Vecchio seems like he's reading my mind. "Fraser loves you, Kowalski. Don't be more stupid about this than you have to be. So what if he stays with you just because he promises he would? The fact he made that promise to begin with - that's what matters."

"Yeah, well, what if-"

"I'm not done yet. Look, you and I both know that Fraser's not perfect, no matter how much he tries to be. And no relationship is perfect all the time, no matter what you think it should be. You're letting yourself be swept up by his Fraserness, and getting upset because it's not as good as you expected it to be, and forgetting just how good it really is. Don't do that."

And that makes sense, what he's saying. Helps a little. Not much, but a little. "It's not that easy, Vecchio."

"Yes it is." And now he's staring at me, like this is the most important thing he could ever say, and maybe it is. "It is exactly that simple. You love Fraser, and he loves you, and you're both good for each other. Don't screw it up by making it more complicated than that. It's only as hard as you make it, Kowalski."

And now he's got his knee up against my stomach, and is pushing me outa his bed. "Go home, Stanley. Take a day to calm down, then talk to Fraser. Work it out with him. Go to Canada, or don't go to Canada, just let me get some sleep."

And there's a look in his eyes I can't really figure out, and it's giving me a feeling in my gut I can't really figure out, but in my head, I think maybe he's right. Fraser and me are good, and just because it's not quite what I was expecting - well, Fraser's nothing like I was expecting when I took the job of being Vecchio, and that turned out okay. That turned out pretty fucking good.

He watches me get dressed, and that's okay, cause I'm never gonna be so married I mind being looked at. And when I'm dressed, I look back at him. "Thanks, Vecchio."

"No problem. Now get outta my house."

And I go home, where Fraser's still asleep, and crumple up the note, and when I crawl back in next to him, he pulls me tight against him without waking up, and I think maybe Vecchio had something there. Frase and I are damn good together, and we'll figure out the Canada thing, and it'll all work itself out.

Long as we're together.