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      	  A Place For Everything 
 by estrella  

 Author's Notes: Many thanks to Rhyo and Brooklinegirl for the beta.

 

 The GTO's tires screeched to a stop at the curb in front of the
Consulate. Ray got out of the car and carefully, gently, closed the door.
He was calm. He was so fucking calm that he refused to notice the light
snow that was falling, even when it dripped down his collar, under his
jacket. In his calmness, he walked to the door of the Consulate, and took
a deep breath.

 "Fraser, open up," Ray called, banging his fist against the dark wood
door. He waited a minute. Nothing. Clenching his fingers into an even
tighter fist he hit the door again. "Fraser, I know you're in there and I
am not going away so you might as well open the door and lemme in." 

 Ray was pretty sure he was shouting now and made a concentrated effort to
take a long, deep breath and not the freak the hell out. Goddamned Mountie
was ignoring him. Well if that just didn't ice the fucking cake he didn't
know what did. "Fraser, I am trying to be calm out here, I really am. But
it's late and I'm tired and hungry and it's starting to fucking snow
again, and if you don't open the goddamn door---"

 And with that the door swung open wide, the dim light from inside the
Consulate spilling out onto the stoop where Ray was standing. Fraser'd
already gotten comfortable; the Mountie digs were gone and he was standing
there in just that long sleeved henley and the pumpkin pants. And the
suspenders. Christ, since when did he have a thing for suspenders? "Ah,
Ray." Fraser smiled at him tightly, a thumb nervously tracing over his
eyebrow. "Welcome to---"

 "Yeah, save it, Frase." Ray pushed past him, striding down the hall
toward the cramped box of a room Fraser called an office. No way was he
having this conversation while freezing his ass off on Fraser's stoop. He
pulled his jacket off and tossed it in the general direction of Fraser's
chair. Fraser walked in just in time to watch the jacket slide slowly off
the seat of the chair - the leather making a soft thud as it hit the floor
in a heap. 

 Tsk-ing softly, Fraser walked over and picked the jacket up off the
floor. "Really, Ray. You should take more care to be neat with your
belongings." Fraser pulled a thick wooden hanger from the closet and hung
Ray's jacket on it, making sure to zip the front and straighten the collar
before hanging it inside the closet. 

 "Yeah. I'll stick it right up there on the top of my To-Do list." 

 With his jacket gone, Ray had nowhere to put his hands, so he crossed his
arms over his chest and scowled. Fraser had yet to turn around and look at
him; in fact he was standing there, staring into his closet as if it held
the answers to all the questions in the universe. Finally, with a quick
shake of his head, Fraser took a step backward and slammed the door shut.
"Right. Well. As I was saying, what brings you to Canada tonight, Ray?"

 Ray watched Fraser's stiff back as he walked from the closet over to
where his portable ironing board was set up. Jesus, it was bad. Fraser was
ironing his Stetsons. (Shot of steam, press the brim of the hat, lift the
iron and spin. Shot of steam, press the brim...) Parking his hip on the
edge of Fraser's desk, Ray decided to try for casual. Casual could work.
"Just in the neighborhood. Decided to stop by."

 Fraser's laugh sounded forced and nervous. "Yes. Well. What a pleasant
surprise."

 "Yeah. Funny thing though, you don't sound like you think it's a pleasant
surprise."

 "Nonsense, Ray. Don't be foolish."

 "Why'd you leave with Dewey?" Ray asked flat out. So much for casual
there, Kowalski, he thought to himself. Zen ain't got nothing on you.
Because, really, it had been what - thirty seconds? Thirty seconds and he
was already dying to get this conversation started and finished. Christ,
he needed a drink.

 But at least Fraser had stopped ironing. Ray watched as he smoothed down
the brim of one of the Stetsons, then picked it up and moved it to the
back edge of the ironing board. "Excuse me?"

 "You heard me." Ray pushed off the edge of the desk. "I was gonna drive
you home like I always do. I go into Welsh's office for ten minutes and
bam! You're gone. Hopped into the first car that came along that wasn't
mine."

 And that at least got Fraser to turn around. Something flashed quick and
deep in Fraser's eyes. Yeah, that's it, Ray thought to himself. I want
that. Gimme that.

 "No, Ray. That wasn't the case."

 "No?" Ray asked quietly. "Then why don't you tell me what the case was."

 Fraser looked at him for a minute before turning back toward the ironing
board. He carefully stacked the Stetsons together and walked briskly to
the closet, opening the door and placing them neatly on the top shelf.
"Accepting a ride home from Detective Dewey was merely an act of
convenience, I assure you." Ray watched as Fraser walked over to his desk
and sat down, opened a drawer and pulled out a thick stack of files.
"Diefenbaker and I were ready to retire for the evening. While you were
speaking with Lieutenant Welsh in his office, an opportunity for a ride
home presented itself and we accepted."

 Ray shot a look at Dief who was curled up on the floor. "That right?"

 Dief raised his head and whuffed. Fraser stopped in the act of stacking
the pile of files on his desk (pick up a file, tap it against the desk,
lay it back down. Pick up another file, tap it against the desk...) and
narrowed his eyes in Dief's direction. "I'll thank you kindly for staying
out of this."

 Dief whuffed again and got up off the floor, his toenails clicking
against the linoleum as he left Fraser's office. "Thankless beast," Fraser
muttered, then pushed his chair back and stood up again. This time he
headed back to the ironing board, carefully wrapping the iron's cord
around its base. (Twist the cord, wrap it through the handle, twist the
cord, wrap it through the handle...)

 Having had nearly enough, Ray went to stand next to Fraser. Fraser's body
stiffened the moment he got close and Ray closed his eyes. This was not
what he thought was going to happen. If he'd known... "Fraser, I gotta
ask," Ray said quietly. "Why'd you leave today?" Fraser said nothing. Ray
opened his eyes and looked directly at him. "We gotta talk about last
night, Frase. For God's sake, I kissed you last night---"

 "I'm well aware of that, Ray," Fraser interrupted, and Christ, there he
went again, off to the other side of the room in three quick steps,
leaving Ray by himself with nothing but a packed-up iron for company. "I
was, in fact, the one you kissed."

 "Yeah. So today you bolt. Real nice." Fraser ignored this and instead
walked back to his desk and reopened the top drawer, putting the files he
had so carefully stacked (pick up a file, tap it against the desk, lay it
back down...) back inside. Ray scowled. "Didn't you just take those out?"

 Fraser frowned and peered inside the drawer. Then he slammed it shut and
wandered back over to the closet, opened the door and pulled the Stetsons
back off the shelf. "Yes, well..."

 Ray watched him carefully. There was something going on here. If he could
just put his goddamned finger on it...

 "We're gonna talk about last night."

 "Really, Ray. I fail to see what-"

 "We were sitting on my couch, watching the game -"

 "...discussing the matter would accomplish. If anything-"

 "...and you looked at me to say something, and I just said: 'Fuck it', in
my head, that is. I said it in my head. And then I leaned over-"

 "...it might even complicate matters even farther."

 "...and kissed you. Christ! Will you stop? What the fuck are you doing
now?"

 Because the whole time Ray was talking to him, Fraser was stacking and
re-stacking his goddamned hats. Over and over and over...

 ...And hello Clue Bus. Ticket for one, please?

 "So, Frase," he said, abruptly changing tacks. He could be amiable.
Because they were friends here. And friends didn't let friends freak the
hell out. "Whatcha doing with the hats?"

 Fraser looked down at the Stetsons he held in his hands again and quickly
returned them to the shelf in the closet. "Just putting them away. Tidying
up, one might say."

 Ray nodded. "And the files?"

 "Yes, well, those too needed to be -"

 "That's important to you, isn't it? The whole neat, clean, straightened
up, Type A kinda thing?"

 Fraser's eyes flicked over to him and his lips curved into a tight,
forced smile. "Yes, well, you know what they say: 'Un posto per tutto e
tutto in esso posto'" 

 "Yeah. Funny thing about that, Fraser. I don't know anyone who says
that." Christ, he was talking in different languages now. "What the hell
does that even mean?" 

 "'A place for everything and everything in its place,'" Fraser
translated. "It's an old Italian proverb, dating back..."

 But Ray didn't hear anything else. He couldn't hear anything anymore over
all the bells and whistles going off in his head because he got it. He
finally got it, and with a slow smile, he crossed the room. Fraser
retreated before him. "That's what the problem is, isn't it?"

 Fraser faltered in his Italian-meets-the-Inuit tale or whatever the hell
he was talking about. His eyes flicked nervously to Ray's then away and he
took a step back. "I'm sorry, Ray, but I don't quite understand---"

 "'A place for everything and everything in its place'," Ray repeated back
to him, "but you don't know where to put me - put this - if things change.
I won't fit into any of your nice little category boxes. Friend,
partner..." Ray licked his lower lip, a thread of heat curling through his
stomach when Fraser's eyes dropped down, following the movement of his
tongue. "Where will you put me if I kiss you? If I touch you?"

 Fraser's eyes closed. They'd walked to the other side of the room, Ray
advancing, Fraser backing up, until Fraser's back hit the wall. "Don't do
this, Ray," Fraser choked out. 

 Ray braced the palms of his hands against the wall, one on either side of
Fraser's head, and leaned in close. So close he could bury his face
against Fraser's neck if he wanted. Close enough to smell him, to drag his
tongue over his skin and taste him. "Well, then we have a problem," Ray
said quietly, his lips skimming across Fraser's throat. He heard Fraser
gasp as he settled his teeth on Fraser's earlobe, before pulling back and
licking the skin softly. "Because, see - I have to touch you. I can't not
touch you."

 Fraser groaned; Ray could feel the vibration against his teeth as he bit
the side of Fraser's neck. His hair was soft and warm as it curled around
his fingers, and Ray could barely manage to pull away long enough to look
at him - really look at him.

 Taking that last step, Ray pressed in against him, so that they stood
together in perfect contact. Fraser was hard and hot and strong under him,
and Ray rolled his hips, nudging his hard cock against Fraser's thigh.
With a long, low moan, Fraser dropped his head against the wall with a
loud thunk. "I can't take this anymore," Ray said, tightening his fingers
in Fraser's hair until Fraser looked at him, his eyes cloudy and
unfocused. "This wanting and not having. We'll figure out a new place to
put this, but I can't not have it. Do you understand?"

 "Ray..."

 "Goddammit, Fraser." Ray grit his teeth. Fuck! If Fraser didn't want
this, he'd leave; he'd have to. Have to just...go and never mention it
again. "Tell me you want it - tell me you want me."

 "I do." And Jesus, it sounded like it hurt him to say it. Like something
was being torn from Fraser's chest, hard and ragged, but he pushed back
against Ray, his cock hard against Ray's thigh, and suddenly Ray wasn't
the one doing the pushing, he was the one being pushed. Fraser flipped
them and Ray's head hit the back of the wall hard but nothing mattered
because Fraser was on him, was against him. His hands were in Ray's hair
and his mouth was hot and wet and moving, still talking even as he was
kissing Ray. 

 And Ray couldn't think; could barely hear, but the things he could hear
had him gasping and clutching at any part of Fraser he could reach. Things
like: "I do want you," and "God, Ray, it hurts the way I want you," and
"Sometimes I think I'll die if you don't touch me..."

 And maybe the Clue Bus had a bit of a delayed arrival, but here it
finally was, and they were both there at the station together. He gasped
and moaned as Fraser kissed him. He filled his hands with the cotton of
Fraser's shirt, pulling it from his pants and sliding his palms against
the warm, soft skin of his waist, shivering as he felt the button of his
own jeans being popped open; hearing the zipper snick down one notch at a
time. 

 And then there was nothing. Nothing but Fraser's hand, wrapped tight - so
tight around his cock he nearly came right there, without Fraser even
doing anything. He fumbled awkwardly with the buttons and zippers of
Fraser's pants, finally getting them open and shoving them roughly down
Fraser's thighs until - God. Until they were both out and in the open, two
hard, leaking cocks pressing against each other. 

 "God, Fraser, I'm gonna die. I'm dying. Please tell me I'm not dying..."

 And he could swear he heard Fraser chuckle, and then that big hand was
wrapped around the both of them, pumping them hard and fast. "Not yet,
you're not," Fraser growled in his ear, and Ray thrust one, two, three
times and came.

 ` ` ` ` ` ` ` After a minute, the room finally stopped spinning. Fraser
was still pressed up against him, his forehead on the wall next to Ray.
Ray looked down and almost laughed out loud. There they were, dressed from
the waist up, pants shoved down around their ankles, and covered in spunk.
Classy. 

 He cleared his throat. "Hey." 

 Fraser grunted softly. "Yes?"

 "Did you, uh..."

 Ray waved a hand up and down. Fraser tilted his face toward Ray, still
resting his forehead against the wall and smiled. "Yes."

 "Oh. Cool." Ray paused. "'Cause I wasn't sure-"

 "It was at the same time," Fraser said quietly. "You might have
been...distracted."

 "Okay." Fraser shifted against him, his face resting in the crook of
Ray's neck. "Because I wouldn't want you to think-"

 "Ray, are you wondering if it was good for me?" 

 Ray could hear the smile in Fraser's voice and smacked him playfully on
the head. "Yeah, yeah. I got the point. That's just...the same time, huh?"

 He could feel Fraser smile against his neck. "I know. Incredible, isn't
it."

 "Yeah." 

 But that wasn't everything he wanted to say, and after another minute he
found himself pushing against Fraser, trying to get him off his body. Ray
needed to see him -- and be seen by him. "Come home with me?" And Fraser
just blinked and looked at him blankly, so Ray decided not to make it a
question. "Come home with me," he told him, and Fraser nodded and smiled.

 "Okay."

 They cleaned themselves up as best they could, and Ray wandered down the
hall until he found Dief curled up and pouting by the front door of the
Consulate. "Hey, Wolf. You're coming with me." Dief yipped happily and
trailed after Ray as he went back to get Fraser. 

 Leaning his shoulder against the doorway, Ray watched Fraser toss his
henley and the pumpkin pants to the floor, pull on a pair of jeans and a
flannel shirt and stuff his feet in a pair of old workboots. He turned to
Ray and smiled and Ray found himself grinning back helplessly.

 "You ready, Frase?"

 "Absolutely."

 Fraser went to turn off the lights, and it was then that Ray realized
what was wrong with the picture. "Hey Fraser. You gonna pick those clothes
up and put them away before you go?"

 Fraser didn't even turn back to look as he pulled the door closed behind
him. "No, Ray," he said, a grin starting to form at the corners of his
mouth. "I think I'm quite happy with the way things are right now."

  
  

End A Place For Everything by estrella 

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