These characters do not belong to me, no matter how much I want them to.

This is a sequel to Living on a Prayer, although it has strong references to Extended Family, which happened earlier in the series.

Once again this is not beta's so all mistakes are property de moi, and I'm proud of 'em.

Rated NC-17 for bad language, m/m and wall abuse.

One of the Family.

"My child arrived the other day,

Came into the world the usual way,

But there were planes to catch and bills to pay,

He learned to walk while I was away,

He was talking before I knew it, and as he grew,

He said, 'I'm gonna be like you dad, ya know I'm gonna be like you,'"

Cats in the Cradle Ugly Kid Joe

Ray woke to a loud, insistent rapping on the door. He groaned in protest at the interruption. An answering growl came from the other side of the bed. Ray leant up on an elbow, looking down at Stan. His lover had lines of exhaustion etched around his eyes as he screwed them up in annoyance. Stan hadn't been sleeping very much since he was abducted, Ray sympathised. He hadn't been sleeping too well either with Stan tossing and turning all night. Still being over protective, he decided to get the door before Stan was roused too much. Ruffling his lover's hair slightly, earning him an appreciative moan, but Stan's eyes remained stubbornly shut. Ray slowly got out of bed, silently pulling on a pair of Stan's jeans, for some reason Stan had taken to buying slightly baggier jeans, Ray was almost pleased, he would never have gotten into a pair of Stan's skin tight ones. He was also puzzled, Stan had never liked baggier jeans, and he'd always complained that they made him look ridiculous. But since the attack Stan had purchased several pairs. Not that he complained, although he did miss the way his old jeans used to cling to his ass, although it was a bad distraction at work.

Slipping quietly out of the room, pulling the door over, so Stan wouldn't be disturbed further. He quietly padded, barefoot, to the door, expecting an annoying Mountie and a wolf, demanding their assistance because a troop of old ladies need help crossing the road. So when he swung the door open to find a middle aged couple on the other side, Ray was slightly taken aback, he wasn't expecting that, hardly anyone visited them here, Fraser, Frannie, Stan's landlady trying to force feed him, claiming he was too skinny and Welsh had visited Stan last week to see for himself if Stan was up to returning to work the week after.

His confusion must have been evident because the older couple faltered,

"Can I help you?" Ray asked in an overly polite voice for someone who'd been woken up at an ungodly hour on his day off.

"We were looking for Stanley Kowalski, "the lady replied, she had an accent, sounded like she was from somewhere far from Chicago, Arizona maybe, Ray first thought was what the hall they could want with Stan, Mr Protectiveness raised his head, he must have set the older couple on edge slightly as he folded his arms across his chest and drew himself up to his full height, looking more threatening, "I'm sorry," the woman apologised, "we must have the wrong number apartment, I don't suppose you know where he lives do you?" Ray, by this time, had realised how silly he was being, they looked like a nice old couple, what harm could they possibly do to Stan?

"I'm sorry, this is the right apartment. Do ya wanna come in? I'm afraid he's still asleep, but I doubt he'll stay that way much longer," Ray didn't mention the reason why Stan wouldn't sleep much longer, that he'd get cold in bed without him and get up looking for him. The couple faltered, unsure eyeing him speculatively. Ray pulled the door open fully standing to the side to allow them, to enter, a blatant clue if ever there was one.

"Thank you," the man held out his hand, Ray shook it, "I'm Damien Kowalski, and this is my wife Barbara," Ray froze, they were Stan's parents.

"I'm Detective Vecchio, Stan's partner," he quickly introduced, trying to sound aloof and professional as possible, hoping they hadn't already read too much onto his half naked state, the reason he was here at Stan's apartment at seven in the morning while he was asleep.

"Stella called us, told us that Stanley had been hurt, we thought we'd surprise him by visiting, make sure he's OK, plus we haven't seen the city for a while, be nice to look around again," Barbara offered, Ray froze again, Stella, what had she told them about his and Stan's relationship? Form their not hostile expressions Ray guessed nothing.

"Please have a seat Mr and Mrs Kowalski," he indicated to the couch, "do you want anything to drink, or do you want me to wake him up?" oops, was that too personal? Waking Stan up meant going into his bedroom, normal guys shouldn't be so casual about going into another guy's bedroom.

"Please call me Barbara, detective,"

"Ya can call me Ray then,"

"I see our son still hasn't learnt how to tidy up after himself," Damian groused, wandering around the apartment taking in the piles of junk and the pizza box that they'd got distracted from throwing away. Distracted in the worst possible way, Ray kept telling himself he should give Stan more time to come to terms with what happened to him, but he just didn't seem to be able to be in close proximity to the other detective without his thoughts turning X rated. Stan had seemed ok with it though, Ray hoped he wasn't just trying to please him, although Stan didn't seem to have any problems getting into it, so to speak. But it was always Ray who initiated it. Stan hadn't stepped up their lovemaking either; the whole actual sex thing was still a big no-no. After Stan had practically fallen off the bed in panic when Ray had touched him there so Ray had given up on trying, hoping it was just more time that Stan needed.

"Leave the boy alone Damien," Barbara warned, there was something in her voice, a deeper warning, something not to do with the mess of the apartment. Ray just stood there dumbly, unsure of what to do, becoming ever increasingly aware of his own state of undress, but he could hardly go into Stan's room to get something to wear.

"So you work with Stanley?" Barbara politely enquired.

"Yeah, although at the moment I'm staying with him too, my place is being, uh, fumigated," Ray lied, "Roaches," he added quickly.

"I also see he hasn't matured at all either," Damien stated, dismissing him, whilst picking up a plastic gun which made an irritating squeal as he pressed the trigger, iterating his point. Apparently Barbara chose to ignore this newest put down of their son, either silently agreeing with it or not seeing the point in arguing about it. Ray sighed inwardly, they'd bought his lie, and they hadn't questioned or contradicted him, which was a good sign. Ray sat in the chair opposite to Stan's mum, Damien still prowled around the apartment, looking for other things to criticise. Rat was torn between hoping his lover would wake up soon, to break the awkward silence that had settled over the room, or to stay in bed for hours so they would get bored and go home without putting his lover through this. Stan definitely didn't need this, he was due to go back to work on light duties the day after next, Ray still thought it was too soon, but Stan had apparently convinced everyone that he had an uncanny ability to bounce back. He'd satisfied the department shrink, Fraser and Welsh himself. Ray was still waiting for some reaction; his normally volatile partner couldn't possibly fail react to something like that. He'd half expected Stan to explode like a volcano, ripping apart their home, punch in a few walls, go on a drinking binge, something //anything// Ray did not like his partner's quiet acceptance. It was totally out of character.

Ray sat there, half naked, in the silence for what felt like an eternity. He desperately wanted to go and get a jumper or shirt to cover himself up, but that would mean going into the bedroom, a temporary housemate wouldn't keep clothes in the bedroom. He idly played with a loose bit of thread at the knee of Stan's jeans. He was so engrossed in it that he didn't even notice when the bedroom door opened slowly and Stan wandered out in nothing but jockeys, into the room, stopping dead in his tracks in shock.

"Stanley," his mum greeted him enthusiastically,

"Son," Damien grunted at him in greeting.

"Mom, Dad, what're ya doin' here?" he demanded, Ray was confused he wasn't expecting such a hostile greeting from Stan to his parents.

"Can't we visit our son after he's been hurt?" Damian demanded back, Ray sighed apparently stubbornness was written into the Kowalski genes.

"I'm fine Dad, ya didn't have ta come all da way down here," Stan replied, somewhat less defensively this time,

"Aren't we allowed to see you? We are your parents, or had you forgotten?"

"Well I haven't seen you for nearly a year, so if it wasn't for my excellent memory, I might've." Stan replied casually, way too calmly for Ray's liking, this was probably the calm before the storm for his lover, "and don't give me that 'we care' bullshit, I know why you're here."

"Don't you dare use that guilt trip against me and your mother, there is nothing wrong with you, no reason why you couldn't visit us,"

"Nah, I couldn't, ya see I know when to stop trying to flog a dead horse,"

"Stop it Stanley," his father warned dangerously, "you're upsetting your mother,"

"Go visit Richard if ya got the urge to connect to the family," he turned and stalked back into his room.

"I'm sorry," Ray apologised for his lover's ostensibly harsh words, "he's always in a bad mood in the morning before he gets coffee,"

"And who the hell are you to tell us about our son?" Damien rounded on him,

"I'm sorry, I was only trying to help,"

"Well stay out of our affairs, you stay out of Stanley's affairs as well," that was an odd thing to say to your son's cop buddy, "you know it's a shame, you're a handsome young man, from what Stella's told us you have good taste in expensive clothes and cars as well, I think you could do our entire family a favour by leaving us, and our boy, alone,"

"I work with him, I kinda need him to be there when we bust the bad guys," Ray tried to lighten the terrible mood that had set around the room.

"You know that's not what we mean, you could do better than Stanley, a lot better," Damien sighed, his anger spent, "it's not that we don't like our son, it's just that he's so awkward, he's a pain in the ass is our Stanley."

"You could find yourself a nice girl, maybe even get back with Stella?" Barbara asked hopefully, Ray burned with rage; they were actually telling him that he was too good for their son. That's not the way things were supposed to work. Stan was their youngest son, they should be protective, ok they may be angry about their relationship, but they weren't meant to be angry about the fact that he was lowering himself to be with their son.

"There are plenty more fish in the sea, of both sexes,"

"He's only doing this to get at us, this is his pathetic cry for attention, he was exactly the same as a child, but like I said he hasn't grown up much since," Damien clarified.

"Get. Out." Ray spat at the older man, his anger finally finding a suitable venting subject.

"There's no need to take that tone with me young man. Let me assure you Stanley is more trouble than he's worth, he's been a burden for us for thirty two years, but we've put up with him because he's our son, but you, you don't have to be tied down to him, don't have to play his pathetic mind games or put up with his petty jealousy and insecurities."

"Get the hell out of here, before I kick your asses out of here," Ray yelled in disgust at the people who had the gall to call themselves parents.

"Come on Barbara, it shouldn't take Ray here too long to figure out the waste of space that is our son, he seems like a smart young man, what I don't understand is how Stanley always seems to trick seemingly smart, good people into caring about him, he did it with Stella, now he's doing it with you, please don't make Stella's mistake and hang around for ten years before you wise up," Damien declared dragging a meek looking Barbara with him out of the apartment.

Ray slammed the door shut violently after them. He turned back to the bedroom, hearing a loud thud, followed by an angry yell.

0o0o0

Which is how they ended up here, outside the Vecchio home, after spending the afternoon in the ER. Stan shifted awkwardly on his crutches, moodily scratching the cast on his foot along the front step. Ray had thought it would be nice to spend the night there, he doubted whether Stan would have found the four flights of stairs up to his apartment easy with his crutches, not that he'd ever admit to it. Ray continued to open the door, glad that his family were all visiting his aunt, they were going to be away for the entire night. So when he pushed the door open and discovered a light on the front room he instantly went for his gun. He crept down the hall, signalling for Stan to stay put, of course Stan instantly followed him as quietly as was possible on crutches. Ray tried to ignore the fact that his lover was becoming precariously unbalanced as he struggled to get his own boot gun, not an easy task with only one foot and not being able to bend very well because of the crutches. He hoped he wouldn't fall, despite the fact that it would let the intruders know they were in the house, he'd also have to stop and make sure he was ok. He held out his arm and Stan steadied himself gratefully on it, pulling out his gun, standing close behind him, so close Ray could feel his breath on the back of his neck. He peeped slowly around the doorframe.

"Frannie!" He grumbled in annoyance, holstering his gun, and snatching Stan's before he got any more ideas of falling over and breaking something else.

"Ray, what're you doing here?" Frannie demanded from where she was curled up on the couch with Fraser watching a movie.

"I live here Frannie," Ray replied, turning up the lights fully so they were no longer creating a romantic atmosphere.

"Who the hell do you think you are hairbottle? We're watching a film, leave me an' Frase alone,"

"If you can tell me what the film is about, then we'll gladly leave you to finish it,"

"It's Pride and Prejudice asshole, it's classy, and you'd never understand it,"

"Humour me," Frannie was stumped, apparently her brother knew her far too well, known she wasn't watching the film, rather that she was watching the large Mountie she was curled up next to,

"It's a period drama Ray it's about..."

"I didn't ask you Benton buddy," Ray practically sang, pleased to have one over on his sister.

"Fine!" Frannie flapped her hands impatiently, extricating herself from the Mountie, "don't tell me you want to watch a film, and if so Stan has a perfectly good VCR, go there,"

"Can't," Ray replied easily, earning him a wide stare from his sister and friend.

"You haven't had another argument have you?" Fraser asked, implying clearly in his tone of voice that if they had it would probably have been his fault,

"No," Ray snorted, affronted, "we just can't go there because there are too many stairs,"

"Last time I looked brother of mine, there was nothing wrong with your legs, you're just too lazy for your own good,"

"It's not my legs I'm worried about," he replied, going to fetch Stan, who was having great difficulty in the hall, attempting to remove his jacket and hang it on the hook on the wall, unsuccessfully he might add. Stan grumbled in annoyance as Ray twisted him around far too quickly for his one leg to cope with and propelled him towards the door.

"Hey, Veccio, watch it, do'ya want me ta break something else? Perhaps ya got a bit o' a kink fer a guy in plaster." He whinged. Vecchio's only reply was to swat Stan on the head.

"Just ignore His Grouchiness, he's been like that since we got to the hospital," Ray explained whilst fussing Stan into a chair and placing his crutches up against the arm.

"I can do it," Stan continued to complain, "there's fuck all wrong with my arms,"

0o0o0

Fraser noticed the look of hurt that passed over Ray at Stan continued complaints and unforthcoming, he hadn't touched Ray voluntarily since they'd got here, although they'd always tried not to touch in front of him and Frannie, they couldn't seem to stop the innocent pats and back slaps that lingered slightly too long, these however were gone and Stan was being cold. He could see how this was hurting Ray, his eye's looked haunted but he continued to put on an impressive display of cheerfulness around them.

"What happened to your leg?" Frannie asked, breaking the awkward silence after Stan's most recent colourful complaint.

"Nuffin'"

"He had an argument with a wall," Ray supplied,

"You kicked a wall? I thought you usually punched them," Fraser attempted a joke, trying to lighten the mood. Stan held up a bandaged hand, two of his fingers were splinted together; small scratches could be seen above and below the bandage around his knuckles. Normally he would have done it in good humour with a joke of his own like, 'don'cha think I tried dat bubby, you should see the amount of filler it'll take ta patch dat poor wall up.' But Stan just sat there silently, slumped in his chair, glaring at them.

"Ooh, that's macho, getting beat up by a wall," Frannie mumbled, the glare from Stan intensified and Fraser could swear the temperature in the room had dropped a few degrees.

"You hungry Stan?" Ray asked, putting his hand on his shoulder,

" Don't want food," he snapped, twisting his head, staring at the hand as if it was alien to him,

"What do you want?" Ray asked, slightly impatiently, Stan's eyes bolted straight forward, then closed as if he were in great pain,

"I want some air Vecchio, it's getting kindov suffocatin' in here," Stan's eyes remained fixed on no-one, missing the look of confused agony that passed across Ray's face, Fraser wasn't sure if he should interject, but Ray quickly composed himself,

"You guy's want some food?" he asked,

"Yes Ray, that's very kind of you,"

"Sure," Frannie agreed equally confused about Stan's bad mood. Ray quickly retreated from the room, ten minutes of disturbing silence and angry glares later, the house filled with the delicious smell of Italian cooking. They'd tried several times, unsuccessfully, to engage Stan in a conversation. Fraser felt an undeniable surge of relief when Ray came back with platefuls of steaming hot pasta and sauce. He unceremoniously plonked one plate onto Stan's lap,

"I said I din't want food,"

"When are you going to stop sulking?" Ray's voice was bordering on pure anger, the volume of his voice remained low, but Fraser could hear the undercurrents of hurt and annoyance clearly. Stan didn't answer that, just maintained his angry scowl, ignoring the food, "fine whatever, starve, see if I care," it was blatantly obvious to Fraser that he did care as he removed the plate from Stan's lap and put it on the table with a loud clunk.

"Here ya go Benton Buddy, I'm sorry we're ruining your evening," sending his own angry scowl back at Stan,

"Thank you kindly Ray, it smells delicious," he enthused as he gratefully accepted the plate, Francesca was equally grateful,

"Thanks for going to all that trouble," she twisted the knife, defending her brother; Ray just offered them a small, forced smile.

Ray left the room and promptly returned with an opened bottle of red wine, pouring a glass for himself and Frannie, pointedly ignoring his lover.

They ate in silence, vast quantities of wine disappeared into Ray and Frannie. Fraser was concerned, that wasn't likely to help things with Stan. But all too soon the food was finished and the silence once again seemed forced.

"Can I go home now?" Stan asked in a sulky voice that reminded Fraser of a child who'd been made to go to his parents friend's house, being bored the entire time. Ray looked at the two empty wine bottles on the table, obviously debating whether he was still in a fit state to drive, Fraser couldn't allow that, no matter how much he wanted to appease Stan, he couldn't let them put themselves in danger.

"If you get into that car Ray, I'm sorry but I will be forced to arrest you for driving under the influence," Ray looked back at him sheepishly,

"You've got no jurisdiction," he bantered back, although now it seemed forced, not the usual casual teasing they normally engaged in.

"I'm quite sure with the mood that Stan is in, he would have no qualms about backing me up," Ray looked at Frannie, apparently she'd consumed almost as much wine as he had, "I'll drive Stan home, I don't mind, it's no trouble," Fraser offered,

"No way Fraser, you are not going to wreck another one of my cars," Fraser watched as Rat turned to his lover, his eye's lingering on the white plaster cast that stuck out of the bottom of his baggy jeans, his bare toes wriggled impatiently, "you can sleep in my bed, I'll take the couch, and I'll drive you home first thing in the morning," Ray sighed dejectedly, standing to help Stan with his crutches, still unable to quell the urge to help him,

"I can do it," Stan warned as he snatched the crutch from Ray, struggled to get vertical as Ray slumped back down next to his sister, knowing better than to interfere anymore. Fraser watched Stan slowly moved out of the room. Moments later, they heard an angry growl and a metallic crash that Fraser presumed was Stan's crutches hitting the floor.

"I'll go," Ray offered reluctantly, Fraser shadowed him, staying close enough to interrupt if things got too heated if Stan thought he was being suffocated again.

From Fraser's position, he could see them, but doubted if they could see him, due to the lighting. Stan was sat on the fourth step of the stairs, his good leg bent to rest on the stair below, his knee drawn tightly into his chest. His other leg lay straight, resting on the floor just next to his discarded crutches. Fraser watched Ray approach him carefully, as he would with a wild animal. He couched so he was eye level with Stan, one of his legs bent upwards onto the third stair, as if he was trying to enclose Stan, blocking off his escape. Fraser wasn't sure whether these were good tactics, it may make him lash out if he felt trapped. But then Stan raised his head, his eyes were full of anguish, bright with unshed tears. Fraser relaxed, this wasn't going to end in fisticuffs like he'd first thought. He felt Frannie come up behind him, putting her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. He smiled and relaxed back into her as they both watched.

0o0o0

Ray gently lifted his lover head so he could look at his. With one finger under his chin and the other hand running through his hair, stopping to gently tug at the short spikes at the base of Stan's head. He had been expecting more irrational anger, he wasn't sure what he'd done wrong as most of Stan's anger had been directed at him, his lover had refused to even admit anything was wrong. So he was surprised when Stan lifted his head miserably to meet his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Ray asked him gently, leaving his hand at the back of Stan's head, revelling in the touch that Stan's was finally allowing.

"Why are you still here?" it should have sounded harsh, but his lover's voice was filled with despondency and an open curiosity,

"I can't drive remember, the Mountie'll arrest me," he quipped trying to ease some of Stan's internal anguish and make him smile, Stan either didn't get it or didn't find it funny,

"No, with me, why are you still with me?"

"Because I love you, you idiot, nobody else in their right mind would put up with your bad moods."

"Why?"

"Because you get all grouchy and sulky and act like a five year old, you get totally impossible."

"No, why do you love me? How could you love me?" suddenly everything clicked into place, Stan had heard every word that his parents had said, and if that wasn't bad enough, he'd believed them, thinking Ray would leave him as soon as someone better came along.

"This is about your parents," it wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"Even they don't love me, I knew they didn't like me very much, but now they hate me, I think Stella hates me too,"

"But I love you,"

"Do you?" he asked in a small voice trying to pull his head down so he wouldn't have to look at him. Ray's heart went out to him, Stan was feeling so insecure, and he really didn't need this while he was still recovering from the attack.

"Why would I lie?" Stan just shrugged, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand,

"I'm sorry,"

"What for?"

"I was a total bastard earlier, I was, I dunno, scared. I thought ya'd run the first chance ya got, I wouldn't have blamed ya," Stan shook his head softly, "I'll apologise to Frannie and Fraser as well, they din't deserve dat shit," he cast a quick, worried glance at the room where their friends had stayed, "I just...." he faltered,

"Maybe tomorrow, after you've had some sleep?" Ray offered kindly,

"Dat sounds good," Stan, sighed exhausted, closing his eyes,

"I didn't mean for you to go to sleep here on the stairs," Ray positioned himself between his lover's knees, Grabbed his buttocks and lifted him easily, a bit worried at how little Stan weighed.

"I c'n do it," Stan protested, but without conviction,

"I'm being romantic, make the most of it Stanley," Stan wrapped his good leg around Ray's waist, his injured leg stuck out comically behind them. He then hugged Ray tightly, burying his face in his shoulder as he slowly carried him upstairs.

Frannie and Fraser smiled happily from their vantage point.

0o0o0

Ray deposited Stan gently onto his old single bed that he hardly ever stayed in anymore; he was always around Stan's. He gently undid Stan's jeans, pulling them gently off over his cast, then pulling his tee shirt off over his head, messing up the hair further, Stan instantly reached up and tried to groom his untamed locks. He pulled the covers over him, gave him a chaste kiss on the forehead and turned to leave. He felt Stan quickly grab the waistband of the back of the pair of Stan's own jeans he was still wearing,

"Yer not staying?" he asked desperately,

"I thought..."

"Please?" he begged hoarsely, how could Ray possibly refuse him? He quickly got himself undressed and climbed in next to Stan, only to be kissed fervently, Ray could feel himself respond to the kiss, especially as Stan's talented hands began to stroke him, he could feel himself getting hard as Stan pulled him on top of him, continually stroking him with long even caresses, reaching down every so often to fondle his balls gently. The hands left him and he moaned at the loss. He was so hard now it hurt, he needed release and he needed it now, he hoped this wasn't another one of Stan's little games. Stan reached up and grabbed the metal frame of the headboard; Ray lifted his weight as Stan arched his back like a bow beneath him. Stan gingerly placed each leg over his shoulders, Ray could feel him flexing the broken one, testing it's flexibility, apparently satisfied he placed it back on his shoulder, Ray could feel the roughness of the cast against his back and a thousand thoughts of why he shouldn't do what Stan was offering. His insecurities, his broken leg, the rape.... he could go on for hours, but all he could think about was the panting man beneath him,

"You're sure?" he asked, just to make sure, not certain whether he could stop now even if Stan had changed his mind,

"If ya want me Vecchio, take me, I'm yers," that was all the encouragement he needed, he slowly prepared his lover, gently taking as much time as he could, still aware of the injuries he'd gotten. He was pleased that Stan pushed back against him, impaling himself on his fingers, grunting quietly in approval.

Ray watched his lover's face intently, looking for any signs of indecision or discomfort. Stan had his head thrown back in wanton abandon, his eyes closed and his hips bucking of their own accord, his lips were slightly parted as his panted breath began to speed up.

"Mine," Ray ground out as he replaced his fingers with his cock. Pushing as slowly as he could manage, trying to quench the desire to thrust in and out of the tight channel.

"Yers," Stan agreed as his hips bucked back onto Ray, taking his entire length inside him. Ray tried to use a slow gentle pace, but Stan had other ideas, always shifting his hips, changing the angle, changing the tempo, until Ray couldn't keep up and just went with the flow. He felt his balls tighten, he came whispering his lover's name, cautious of the Mountie's super hearing as he continued to stroke Stan until be heard the needy whimpers, telling him he was close, very close. Ray tightened his grip around the shaft, stopping the final crucial edge his lover needed, a question written plainly on his face. He didn't know why he was denying Stan, it may be unconsciously punishing him for his behaviour earlier, he didn't know. Stan looked up at him in confusion,

"Yours. Always," he promised through gritted teeth. Ray resumed the stroking, playing with Stan's balls and sucking at a nipple, biting it gently until Stan came in a sticky mess all over his hand and their chests. Ray cleaned them up as best he could, not wanting Ma to find the evidence of their lovemaking on the next laundry day. He curled himself protectively around Stan's back, holding him tightly to his chest; Stan pushed back into the warmth and let out a small contented sigh.

Ray grinned to himself in completely unadulterated happiness in the dark.

The End.