Talking to the Dog III: Patience is a Virtue Which Must be Cultivated 
    Talking to the Dog III: Patience is a Virtue Which Must be Cultivated

 by Blue Champagne

  

 Author's website: http://www.mindspring.com/~bluecham/

 Disclaimer: I see nothing. I know nothing. 

 Author's Notes: 

 Story Notes: Just urped out again. Hope it's readable. 

 This story is a sequel to: Taking to the Dog II: Life's a Beach 

 

 Talking to the Dog III: Patience is a Virtue Which Must be Cultivated 

 "Mm." Ray shifted a little. Oh, this was good. This was great, this was
the best feeling in the world, waking up--just barely--with the sure
knowledge that it's Saturday and you don't have to actually go ahead and
wake all the way up if you don't want to, and you're warm and comfortable
and you slept good and there's nothing pressing right now except this warm
soft person pressing next to you and they don't have anything to do either
you're pretty sure except maybe take a leak. Though none of this goes
through your head in words because you don't speak English yet at this
stage of consciousness, except for the random noises your dream-maker
tosses out occasionally, which don't make any sense semantically speaking,
but that's okay because you don't have to wake all the way up and make
sense if you don't want. 

 There was a gentle licking on his wrist, the one without the bracelet.
Ray had managed to impress upon Diefenbaker that the ear thing just made
him absolutely squirm, since Ray's ears happened to be hot buttons, so
Dief had lain off with that. "Morning, Ray." 

 "Hi, Dief. Needta go out or anythn?" 

 "Not yet." 

 "He call yet?" 

 "There's a message on your machine; he knew the phone would wake me and
likely not you, so he asked me to tell you not to get up to pick him
up--Turnbull left him a message at the hotel, said he would be glad to
pick Fraser up at the airport." 

 "Mm. Trnbl likes fucking dawn, yeah. H'on 'is way here?" 

 "He'll be stopping at the Consulate first for a while; he didn't want to
disturb you so early on your Saturday off. And Turnbull does like getting
up early. He says there's actually a semblance of freshness to the air,
even in Chicago, just before dawn, and it reminds him of home. But I don't
think he knows anybody named Dawn." 

 "Verfunny." 

 "I try." Dief snuggled closer. "Fraser's going to be annoyed when he
comes in and you've got me in the bed with you. He's always telling me I
shouldn't leave my hair on human furniture." 

 "Y'r warm an' furry an' I can't have Fraser, least not yet or now, so
I'll take a live teddy bear. Teddy wolf." 

 "You know, of course, that that's totally demeaning." 

 "Ah, you love me, Dief." 

 "So? That's still totally demeaning." 

 "You could give a shit as long as you get to sleep in the bed here." 

 "I could give a shit because I like cuddling. Fraser...doesn't really
cuddle with me, you know." 

 "He's..." Ray sighed. He was awake now, if groggy, but he didn't actually
have to get up, and he had someone warm and soft and friendly to hang
onto, and he could probably get some more dozing in before Fraser showed
up to get Dief and do whatever else, so that was okay. "He's showing his
respect. He doesn't want you to think he thinks you're just some dumb pet
he owns or anything." 

 "I know. It's part of what we are. He only hugs me or like that if I'm
sick or hurt or he thinks I really need it--I wish he'd do it those times
when he really needed it, because I would, for him. But like I said, he'll
only cuddle with me for utilitarian reasons--keeping warm, generally--and
sometimes a wolf dog just needs a hug, you know?" 

 "Turnbull hugs you." 

 Ray heard the note in Dief's "voice" that usually indicated a smile.
"Turnbull loves all God's creatures, so he can't help himself sometimes.
He even lets me get hair on his sacred uniform occasionally. But he keeps
it to a minimum because he's emulating Fraser, whom, as you may have
noticed, he worships. But my dog family, my littermates when I was just a
tiny pup, would sleep in piles, and I miss that. I know it's kind of
immature, but..." 

 "Do wolves do that too?" 

 "Yes, in their family groups. Sometimes to keep warm when it's really
really cold, too, the whole pack will." 

 "But you got no pack." 

 Dief sighed. "No, I don't. Nor a family, any more, except Fraser." 

 "You got me." Ray squeezed him gently. 

 Dief whimpered; once again, it didn't sound like anything but a whimper
to Ray, but Ray understood when Dief started to wriggle a little and
whimper again. He was doing the wolf equivalent of getting all misty. He
turned his head and hid his face against Ray's neck. 

 Ray smiled a little. "I love you too, Dief, don't think I don't even if I
call you stuff, right?" 

 "Yeah. Thanks, Ray. I, uh, I like you first thing in the morning. You're
a lot nicer guy." 

 "Only if I don't have to get up. So don't wake me up too much or there'll
be a return to our regularly scheduled program and your hairy butt will be
kicked to the floor when I start to actually care about all the wolf hair
in the sheets. And probably in my underwear by now which I didn't need to
think of." 

 "Right. Go back to sleep, Ray." 

 "Just what I was planning on." 

 Ray snuggled down again, remembering Dief wandering in to the bedroom,
night before last, and kind of pointedly sitting around, shortly after Ray
had turned in. He had finally sighed loudly, and when Ray had inquired as
to his problem with an abrupt and not-too-friendly "What?" Dief had
hesitated, then said in a "small" voice "I miss Fraser. I don't like it
when he doesn't take me with him." 

 "He's right, no point putting you through quarantine for a three-day
Ottawa trip with the Ice Queen." 

 "I worry about him." 

 "You couldn't have done anything anyway, just sit around in quarantine in
a cage with a bunch of Yorkies and other barking pillows and generally
poor conversationalists and worry about him there. This way you get to
hang out with the lovely and entertaining moi. Now shut up and go to
sleep." 

 Dief sighed again. 

 "Oh, for--" Ray flipped the covers back. "Get in." 

 Dief was on his feet at once, but did provide the pro forma "Really?" 

 "Today, this year, before I change my mind, yes, really." 

 Dief hopped up and Ray let the covers settle. "Better?" 

 "Yeah. Much. Thanks." 

 "Mm," Ray muttered, unwilling to give too much away. But he missed Fraser
too, he didn't like it when the mountie went off alone--or alone with the
Ice Queen. While it was true she was another fucking
supermountie-type-mountie who kicked ass with the best of them, and
despite her frequent impatience with Fraser, she could be counted on to
systematically rip to shreds anybody who messed with him in any serious
way (as long as it wasn't her)--Ray still felt like some kind of wuss-out
whenever it wasn't him who had Fraser's back, though why his back would
need covering in a hotel and the Mountie mothership Ray had no idea.
But--though he hadn't, and wouldn't, admit it--he understood how Dief
felt. Maybe they could make each other feel a little better. 

 And they had, he thought, as he drifted off again. He felt better, at
least. He hoped Dief felt as much better.  

 "Good morning, Ray. Would you like your breakfast in here?" 

 Ray's next wake-up call had come a little while ago, in the form of
delicious smells in the air and Fraser's tuneful voice, singing to
himself, some folky thing Ray had never heard, no doubt Canadian; but he
didn't bother waking all the way until now, hearing Fraser speaking softly
from the bedroom doorway. 

 "Mm?" Ray cracked open an eye. "Hi." He managed a morning smile, which
fortunately Fraser could recognize on Ray by now, or he might have dialed
911 instead of smiling back. He was in jeans and a blue flannel, and
Comfort Socks again. Ray liked that Fraser was wearing them at his place.
Usually he couldn't get the guy to take his boots off and relax. Of
course, usually, nothing short of intravenous sodium Pentothal could make
Fraser relax. "You gonna give me breakfast in bed again? Yer spoilin' me."


 "Don't get to used to it. It's a thank-you for looking after Dief in my
absence." 

 Ray groped around the bed. "Where is Dief?" 

 "In the kitchen, eating my thank-you to him for looking after you. He's
fond of the pemmican made specifically for sled dogs--more canine-friendly
desiccating and preservative agents are used--and unlike most of his
edible favorites it's at least nutritious, so I bought him some in
Ottawa." 

 "You're just a softy, Fraser, admit it." 

 Fraser only smiled. "Can I take it by the fact you're not getting up
you'd like your waffles and sausage in here?" 

 "Waffles and sausage? Wow, you're soft on me, too." 

 "These are whole grain waffles, with nuts, and lean sausage. Real maple
syrup. And the eggs are poached. I may never rival Turnbull in the
kitchen, but it's all quite tasty, I assure you. I prepared and ate mine
first, as Dief seemed to think you'd like to sleep a little longer." 

 "He was right. It's been a long week. Longer without you." 

 "That's...um. Thank you kindly." Fraser looked pink and cracked his neck
real quick. 

 "I mean," Ray saved, hoping he could lighten up the compliment without
taking it entirely away, "you know how fond I am of paperwork. If you made
me some real coffee, Fraser, I will marry you." 

 "Do you propose marriage to anyone who makes you a decent home-cooked
meal?" 

 "Sometimes I think it's not one of my worst habits, doing that." 

 Fraser chuckled. "Maybe not. I'll be right back." 

 Fraser brought him milk and orange juice as well as a mug of coffee, on a
lap tray. "May I sit on the bed, if your coordination is sufficient upon
awakening to keep the tray from spilling when--" 

 "Sure, have a seat. How was your trip?" Ray applied himself to the food.
"Mrph," he added, after cramming a syrup-laden section of waffle into his
mouth. "Mm-mm. Good stuff, Frase." 

 "Thank you, Ray, but I suggest you don't talk with your mouth that full;
it can lead to choking. And to being called rude." 

 "Yeah, whatever," Ray said after he swallowed, and had a drink of milk.
"By my mom, at least. Y'know, my mom would want you to marry me too, if
she knew how you fed me." 

 "I don't feed you that often, and I don't consider cooking one of my
great strengths." 

 "I never have before either, but I could reconsider after a mouthful of
this," Ray half-agreed. He tried the eggs. "Trip?" 

 "It was uneventful. Perhaps more boring than the usual quarterly meeting.
Inspector Thatcher and I were actually reduced to playing 'Hangman' at one
point under the guise of taking notes, merely to stay awake." 

 Ray grinned. The Ice Queen could be a major pain in the tuchis, but she
was a lot more human than she let on. Fraser had mentioned that she was
the youngest woman in the RCMP--and one of the youngest people in general
in its history--to have attained the very respectable rank of Inspector,
and Ray knew how it had hardened Stel to have to deal with the daily shit
all women aspiring to ranking positions in male-dominated professions got.
He wondered what the Ice--what Thatcher had maybe had to take, in the
course of her career, to make her as much of a hardass as she was. Stel
had said you had be twice as hard as a man to be taken half as
seriously--and then put up with being called a bitch because of it. It was
no-win. You literally had to decide between being liked, or being given
fair treatment for your ability and attaining your career goals; and that
couldn't be an easy decision for anyone. 

 But it was hard for him to remember, when Thatcher's by-now-terminal
frustration and that ingrained hardness came out in such a way as to make
poor Fraser's life a harder place to be. It wasn't like the guy didn't
have enough shit to deal with every day he drew breath. "So now she's up
there pinchin' herself awake all on her own?" 

 "She says the CO's meetings are more convivial, and she is allowed to
contribute more. Her posting may not be one of great significance, but her
rank makes up for it." 

 "Braggart." 

 "Not at all. She said it in a very matter-of-fact way. I think she's more
disdainful than appreciative of the respect she is accorded merely because
of her rank, as opposed to her ability. Though one could argue that her
rank, at her age, would seem to be an indicator of her ability..." 

 "Especially her bein' female. Not that she has less ability because of
that, but the rank thing." 

 "Well...true. The RCMP does aspire to having absolutely no gender-based
restrictions, and according to the letter of the law, there aren't any.
But as in any profession dominated by one gender or another, it takes time
before members of the other gender are truly accepted, without any
exceptional notice at all being taken." 

 "That have anything to do with the reason that her posting isn't, um, of
great significance?" Ray was bulldozing his breakfast with unwonted verve,
despite continuing conversation. Fraser had apparently decided not to make
any further issue of Ray's unmannerly multitasking as long as he didn't
get sprayed with chewed food or anything. 

 "Well...I believe she feels that's so. It's no secret she wishes to
return to Canada. In any event, it's not as though being head of the
Consulate of a major American city is an entirely superfluous posting." 

 "So you're saying it's not that high prestige, but it's still not a
punishment posting, exactly, it just gets her out from under their noses?"


 "I suspect out from under some specific individual's nose. There are
still relics in the upper echelons of the RCMP who resent any woman who
excels in the organization. Her reasons for being here are actually not
that dissimilar to my own. Our records are exemplary, but..." 

 "But you both pissed off the wrong guy. Or guys." 

 "So I suspect. Me, of course, in my revealing that one of our own
committed murder, and the Inspector...well, probably just someone she had
to be exceptionally, ahm, firm with at some point, for whatever reason.
Turnbull's reasons for being here rather go without saying, though he did
earn that uniform wears, the same as the Inspector and I. He...I've never
met anyone that could be so unutterably frustrating, then suddenly do
something that just..." 

 "Melts the cockles of your cockles?" Ray grinned. 'Go look in the mirror,
you big knucklehead,' he thought. "He's a sweetie, isn't he?" 

 "I would say, rather, that his...childlike appreciation and enthusiasm
for certain things can be...heartwarming. And he is surprisingly
insightful at times. Though I would appreciate it if you didn't make a
point of telling him I said so--" 

 "Don't want him to think you're soft on him, too?" Ray smirked. "You're
nothin' but mush today, Frase." 

 "I don't want to make Turnbull uncomfortable, Ray," Fraser said softly,
and Ray nodded. 

 "Yeah, I see what you mean. I'm not sure how he'd take it if you got all
relaxed and chummy with him." 

 "Not well, I'm afraid. He needs someone to look up to, and he feels
Inspector Thatcher is too far out of his league. He needs us to be the way
we are." Fraser stole a piece of sausage from Ray's plate. 

 "Hey." Ray made a whap at Fraser's hand with his fork, missing, he told
himself, on purpose. 

 Fraser took a lethargic bite of the pilfered sausage, swallowed, and said
"I made rather too much, I think. I simply cooked the entire package. What
I couldn't eat I dumped on your plate." 

 "Could've given the extra to Dief." 

 "As though he's not having a good enough time. Letting him sleep not only
on your bed, but in it. Really, Ray." 

 "Hey, we missed, uh...it was a mutual thing. I liked having him here."
Ray ate with focused intensity. "He lets me drool on him." 

 "He has fur, Ray, he probably can't tell that you're drooling on him." 

 "I told him. When he smelled it and asked if I'd been licking him in his
sleep. I think he forgets sometimes that humans don't do things like that,
uh, with dogs, at least." 

 "Oh." 

 "Which I guess is okay, 'cause I sometimes forget I'm talking to somebody
with four legs and all. Not really used to it yet. But he still didn't
mind." 

 "Well, he's a wolf, you know. Drooling is not very much of a gaffe, if it
could be considered one at all, in his terms." 

 "Good point. Um...what I was gonna say--" Ray set his knife and fork down
and managed to remember to cover his mouth with his paper napkin before
his post-prandial burp escaped. "'Scuse me. I was gonna say...that I kinda
wussed out on was that we missed you, Frase. We didn't like that we
couldn't go with you. We, um, worry. Not 'cause you're a total moron or
anything, but, uh, anyway--" Ray veered off and came at the target again
from a new direction. "We kinda were commiserating." 

 Fraser turned pink again, and suddenly found his socks fascinating, but
he looked back up almost at once, and smiled right at Ray. "I missed you,
too. Both of you." 

 "Well, yeah, but you were at the procedural briefing from hell. You
likely missed Turnbull and Frannie for that matter." Ray grinned. 

 "Well, yes, but not quite as much," Fraser assured him. He set a careful
hand on Ray's knee through the bedclothes, still smiling. 

 Ray suddenly became aware that he was sitting there in a deceased Iron
Maiden T-shirt and jockeys, he was rumpled and unwashed and probably had
crumbs on his face, and he wasn't sure what to do with how warm and fuzzy
it was starting to feel in the room. Hey, you don't really expect to start
getting these feelings on Saturday mornings before showering until after
you'd been fooling around awhile. This was kinda not with the program. 

 It really felt good, though. And hell, hadn't Fraser seen him in worse? 

 Let's just go with it. 

 "You, ah, wanna inspect the sheets for wolf hair?" Ray wondered, setting
his tray aside on the nighttable. 

 Fraser ducked his head again, but was still smiling when he came back
gamely "I think I can surmise the extent of the damage. Dief and his fur
have been part of my life for quite a while now." 

 "Then how about joining me for a little power nap? I think I feel one
coming on. Woops, all aboard for funtime--" Ray collapsed back to the
pillows, eyes closed, trying to keep from smiling. 

 Fraser made a sound that strayed suspiciously close to the "giggle" zone
of the laughter spectrum. "Maybe for a minute." Ray lost his fight with
the smile as he felt Fraser lying down next to him--not getting undressed
or getting in the bed, but this was still pretty good. Ray was irritated
with himself for acting like a teenager trying to convey attraction
without actually conveying attraction and get a response without actually
getting a response--good God, he was verging on forty, that lovely
landmark when everybody shows up to your birthday party dressed in black.
Why couldn't he just open his trap and say what needed to be said? 

 Of course, another part of him was loving the hell out of it. It was like
the Good Parts Version of being a teenager with a crush when you knew the
crushee was crushing you back. Maybe even in bed at night...Oo. Nice
thought... 

 Besides, Fraser had assured him that there was plenty of time. Despite
the fact that Fraser had been trying to soothe him at that moment--he
remembered the gentle hand massage Fraser had given him, and controlled a
sigh--Ray still took this to mean that Fraser wasn't exactly cruising
other prospects. Maybe Fraser was finally having a little genuine fun in
his life, as far as things related to affection and desire, too, for once.


 He opened his eyes; there lay Fraser, right next to him, not on his back
for once but still with his arms folded precisely, eyes closed, and a
smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

 "And what do you call that? A rigor mortis impersonation?" 

 Fraser sneaked one eye a little open. "I'm power napping, Ray, like you
said. Power naps don't take long. The whole point is not to let your
muscles relax as completely as they do during a nap of more usual
duration, yet give your brain the chance to regroup, as it were." 

 "Okay, don't take a power nap, take a weak, limp-wristed nap. Like this."
Ray turned and slid an arm over Fraser's waist, and started trying to
rearrange Fraser to his satisfaction, causing some grappling and
scuffling, as well as a lot of grinning and cackling, as Fraser tried to
"help". 

 "What, you want me how, like this?" 

 "No, that's like stage one of snow angels--" 

 "Here? No, then, where--how?" 

 "No, that knee's where my knee wants to be, move it like this--" 

 "If I move it like that--" 

 "Ouch, okay, here, just--ummph." Fraser, snickering helplessly, had let
go and fallen right on top of Ray, smushing his face with one
flannel-covered shoulder. "Mmogay, 'as good," Ray said in blatant
surrender. Well, he gurked it, sort of. He was still chuckling and there
wasn't a lot of air to be found right up against Fraser's shoulder, plus
his mouth was squished to one side. 

 Fraser managed to get himself under control--not that some snorting and
snickering could exactly be called getting wild and crazy--and raised up
on his elbows. "No fun. You give up too easily." 

 "I was afraid next time you'd smush me beyond all recognition." Ray
smiled. Now that he had Fraser here, in the sense of on top of him, and
they were both still smiling and relaxed, his slight tenseness had taken a
powder. Even if this was all they did at the moment, it was
really...really nice. 

 And anyway, Fraser said there was plenty of time. 

 "Okay, so we'll nap like this? If I lie back down, you'll suffocate,"
Fraser pointed out. 

 "Slide over a little. Like this...there." Fraser was now on his side,
half-piled on Ray, resting his head on one hand, the other arm and leg
comfortably across Ray's person through the bedclothes. "Okay, now you can
lie down and we're fine." 

 "What do I do with my arm?" 

 "Which arm?" 

 "This one. The one in the way." Fraser waved the one he was holding his
head up with. "I can't lie down until I unbend it and I don't really want
to break my knuckles against the headboard." 

 Ray smiled. "Under here." He lifted his head, and Fraser slid his arm
under Ray's neck, coming to rest with his face against a rangy,
cotton-clad shoulder. 

 "There. Comfy?" 

 "You're a bit lumpy, but I've certainly slept on ow." Rather than
retaliating against the mild kick, Fraser only made that suspiciously
giggly sound again. 

 "On lumpier, while you were living among the musk ox, like." 

 "I actually meant to say musk oxen. To live among the musk ox would be to
live, um, inside a single animal." 

 "Well, you were trying not to wet your pants at the time you said it, or
worse--please don't tell me, if so--so I guess we can give you that one." 

 "Though I think ox might technically be one correct plural for ox, as
well. At least for some kinds of ox." 

 "Like moose?" 

 "Moose aren't ox." 

 "Oxen." 

 "Oxen are ox, yes. You see, usually when the plural 'oxen' is used, the
reference is to bulls which have had um. Which have..." 

 "Been fixed." 

 "Yes, that. Now that I think about it, I'm not sure if it applies to
other species, such as wild oxen." 

 "Ox." 

 "Or them, either." 

 "Or moose-i." 

 "Moose-i?" 

 "Like cacti. Or octopi." 

 "Latin-based words which end in 'u s' are pluralized by removing those
letters and substituting an i. Nothing else is. In English, at least." 

 "Anal." 

 "That doesn't end in 'u s'. And I am not." 

 "Are too." 

 Dief was in the doorway. In a tone of long-suffering, he shook his head
and said "You guys? Just so you know, I'm gonna puke, here." 

 Fraser and Ray broke up laughing like idiots. 

 "It'd serve you both right if I actually puked," Dief muttered. 

 "Uh, yeah, we're pretty bad," Ray conceded. 

 "The cuteness level in this room is beginning to solidify the space-time
continuum," Fraser said, "but no one's asking you to kibitz, you know." 

 "It's not up to me. I haven't been out yet. I mess the floor, you yell at
me. So here I sit--commenting--until somebody takes me where I can get a
little relief." Ray glanced over, and Dief winked at him, jaw hanging in a
wolf grin. 

 Fraser sighed. "I'm dressed, I'll go." 

 "No," Ray said, slithering out from under Fraser. "I'm, uh, not, I'll
go." 

 "'I'm not, I'll go'? What kind of sense does that make?" Fraser wondered,
still reclining on the bed as Ray hopped around the room pulling his jeans
on. 

 "It's Chicago sense. Like moose-i is Chicago English," Ray said. "We'll
be right back. You, uh, just stay comfortable." 

 "I thought I'd start on the kitchen--" 

 "Long as you're comfortable in there," Ray said, chasing Dief out of the
room. "Personally the place kinda gives me the willies sometimes,
depending on the state of the fridge. Be right back." He shut the
apartment door behind himself and Diefenbaker.	

 "Couldn't you just crap directly into the trash can?" Ray wondered. 

 "No, but I could manage directly on to the paper, if you'll put some
down," Dief said, concluding his business with the lamppost. "You don't
want to have to explain to anybody why your wolf has his ass stuck in the
concave opening of a sidewalk trash can. I doubt that would work with my
tail, anyway. Besides, I've got emotional trauma left over from the
toilet." 

 "Okay, okay. So shit and let's get back upstairs." 

 "Sometimes, Ray, I admire your practicality. And then there's now." Dief
squatted. "Do you mind?" 

 "Didn't think you gave a...you know." 

 "I do with you." 

 Ray ostentatiously faced the other way. "It is my sincere pleasure to
give you a little privacy for this, Dief. So did you have anything to say
or were you just winkin' at me to let me know my shorts were riding up?" 

 "I--erf--" 

 "Feel free to postpone your answer 'til when you feel more able to
concentrate on it." 

 "Thanks." 

 A moment later, Dief came around into Ray's field of view and said
"Okay." Ray disposed of everything that needed disposing of, then said
"Okay, yourself." 

 "Let's cruise down to the Krispy Kreme." Dief turned and started
trotting. 

 "You wanna be a fat, fat wolf? You want all the other wolves laughing at
your gut?" Ray threw his hands in the air and followed. "You want Fraser
giving both of us the Mountie Evil Eye?" 

 "No, I want a Krispy Kreme." 

 "One." 

 "One is fine. I'm pretty full already." 

 "If he fed you half what he fed me, I don't see how you can get even one
down. What kind?" 

 Ray went in and purchased the doughnut--plus a couple extra for later, or
in case Fraser wanted one--and came back out, squatting next to Dief where
the later was waiting by the front window. "Here, you glut gut." 

 "'Glut gut'?" 

 "Did you wanna tell me anything or not? I'm tired of bribin' you." 

 "I thought you loved me." 

 "I thought you loved me, too, so answer me." 

 "I just wanted to tell you that Fraser picked up the phone about
eighty-seven times in his hotel room and put it back down without calling
you. I think he's really starting to lose it, Ray. Stop fooling around and
make your move." 

 "What do you call what I was doing? I had him in bed with me. And how do
you know what he did in his hotel room and whether it had anything to do
with me?" 

 "He was telling--uh--he--um, you know he talks to himself sometimes.
He's...not used to having to censor what he says around me, because he's
not used to anyone else understanding me. Unless you count Turnbull, which
I'm not sure he does. And I call what you were doing 'fooling around'." 

 "He was havin' fun. He was smilin' like his teeth needed air." 

 "Were you gonna kiss him?" 

 "Um...I hadn't got that far thinkin' about it. Why?" 

 "Because he wants you to! Because...I'm not sure that he can." 

 "Oh...he's...um. Not sure?" 

 "He's sure. He's just scared. He needs you, he doesn't want to blow
anything. Well, you know what I mean." 

 "I told you no sex talk." 

 Dief ignored that, snarfing the last of the doughnut and saying "Look,
there's plenty I can give Fraser, and I do. But unlike me, I don't think
he can get along forever without a member of his own species to be close
to. He's just scared he'll lose his mind again. Let him know he doesn't
have to worry about that with you, because if it does, you'll take care of
him, okay?" 

 "Oh. He..." 

 "He doesn't need someone telling him how he feels, he just needs you to,
to let him know you've got a steady hand on things, too, and your starting
it would help. He'll know he won't lose you because he knows you're not a
hypocrite, you wouldn't kiss him first and then dump him for being into a
guy, or into you specifically." 

 "Oh. Uh, there is that. It's just that he...well, he said there was
plenty of time. And he...when I'm with him, he acts that way, too, like
he's so relaxed and he couldn't be happier and things can just happen when
they happen. When did it get so urgent?" 

 "Ray. He acts like that with you. With. You. When you're around. He is
happy and everything can take as long as it wants to, then. But when
you're not around...when you're not around, I'm not enough, not anymore." 

 "Aw, Dief, come on. It ain't about you," Ray said quietly, fluffing
Dief's ruff. 

 "I know," Dief muttered. "It's not, I know. But he still needs someone
human to trust, Ray. Someone he knows that he can trust, because he likely
will lose it, if he lets himself go that far. That's you. No, that's not
all of why. It's just one why. Now get back there and pants the poor guy
before he pines to death, will you?" 

 "I didn't know you had that expression in Canada." 

 "I think it's 'daks' in Australia." 

 "You think I really oughtta...you know...just go for it?" 

 "Before I die of waiting."  

 "Just go for it," Ray was repeating to himself as he and Diefenbaker
approached his door. "Don't think. You're good at not thinking. Just go
for it. Just go for it..." 

 "You'd better start saying that to yourself. He might be able to hear us
by now." 

 "Oo. Good point." Ray paused at the door, which, due to Fraser's
presence, he hadn't locked, and turned the knob. 

 "Frase?" Diefenbaker headed straight for the kitchen, probably out of
habit. Ray glanced around, then heard the shower running. 

 "He didn't clean the kitchen," Dief said. "Just so you know, because it's
cleaner now than it was when he got here." 

 "Ha ha, very funny, he's in the shower and I'm freaking out." 

 "He looked a little tired, for him, when he got here. He might've skipped
taking one before he got on the plane." 

 "He smelled good to me. But then, he's probably constitutionally
incapable of smelling bad. Um...what do I--" 

 He was interrupted by a call from the bathroom. "Ray?" The water shut
off. 

 "Yeah, Frase? You okay in there?" He approached the bathroom door warily.


 "I'm fine." The door opened, but only enough for a dripping, bare Fraser
to peer out. "You...said I should be comfortable. And I skipped showering
before I got on the plane this morning." He was pink, and talking quietly,
as though a little nervous about his own audacity. He had a little smile
that headed right for Ray's insides and danced around, warming him up from
the inside out. 

 Ray smiled, too. "Then hallelujah, more power to ya, Frase. No problem." 

 "I was just wondering if you could get me a towel. I forgot." 

 Frase was on the other side of the bathroom door naked asking for a
towel, and Dief was dancing frantically in the kitchen, out of Fraser's
sight, probably with the effort of controlling a scream of something like
"GO GO GO GO GO ALREADY, YOU IDIOT!" 

 But Ray could only say "Right, I'll...I'll get you towel." He turned away
to the linen closet and pulled two towels out, turning to press them to
Fraser's shoulder, the one that was visible. "Towel. And if you're happy,
Benton-buddy--I mean, if you're comfy--I am, too." 

 "Um, you haven't showered this morning, either, though." 

 "No, I haven't, Frase." 

 Fraser took the towels, his warm, wet hand over Ray's. "Hm. Two
towels..." 

 "You tellin' me you weren't quite done?" Ray wondered, feeling a little
pink himself. 

 Fraser was still smiling that smile. "I thought I should explain my
presence in your shower, since you didn't mention it specifically. The,
ah, shower, that is." 

 "Well, mi shower es su shower, Frase, you know that." Ray grinned. "Would
you feel a little more comfortable if you didn't have to worry about poor
me out here with no shower an' you all comfy in there havin' one?" 

 "I would hate to ruin your Saturday with my thoughtlessness, Ray," Fraser
said, still holding the hand Ray was holding the towels to Fraser's
shoulder with. 

 "Wouldn't want you feelin' guilty." 

 "I wouldn't want you feeling imposed upon." 

 "An' we wouldn't--" 

 There was a gigantic snarling noise behind them and, out of conditioned
reflex, Fraser yanked the door open and lunged out and around the
doorjamb, towels in one hand, as Ray went into a defensive crouch facing
the kitchen, one hand reaching for his non-present weapon. Fraser was
shouting "Dief, what's the--OH dear--" 

 They barely made it into the bedroom ahead of the snapping, snarling, and
just faintly gagging Tasmanian-Devil-like creature that came roaring at
them from the direction of the main room. "You STUPID PRIMATE FUCKHEADS're
gonna talk yourselves right OUT OF IT AGAIN GET IN THERE GET IN THERE GET
IN THERE GET--" 

 Ray slammed the door between himself and Fraser, and the tornadic wad of
wolf on the other side. 

 "--AND DON'T COME OUT 'TIL YOU FUCK!" 

 "Great Scott," Fraser muttered, as they both stood staring at the door. 

 "Uh, does he do that much?" 

 "I've never seen him do that at all," Fraser said, chagrin plain in his
expression. A lot of other things were plain about Fraser right then, as
in 'apparent'. He noticed this. "Oh. Dear. I mean, terribly sorry--" one
of the towels went around his waist. "What with the, ah, rush and all, I
didn't..." 

 "I've seen you, Fraser, it's okay," Ray muttered distractedly, still
staring at the door, on the other side of which was still Diefenbaker,
having such insanely ferocious hysterics he was only understandable about
half the time. "You're real pretty, it's not like you'll strike me blind."
More like the opposite. Looking at Fraser could probably instigate miracle
cures. 

 "Um. Thank you." 

 "That wolf has got some big teeth." 

 "Um, yes. Wolves do. But I didn't know his, ah, snarl could, ahm, sound
quite so...threatening." 

 "He ever snarled at you at all?" 

 "Well not like that, for heaven's sake," Fraser said, shaking his head. 

 "What was he sayin' to you when he ran at us like that?" Ray said. "Or,
um, what did you hear, I mean." 

 "He made an unflattering remark about members of our phylum in
general--humans and other primates--he said we were...I think he was
nauseated by our...our repartee, again. Though that hardly seems a reason
for him to..." 

 "...crack," Ray finished for him. "Yeah. I think it's a combination of
things. Though I gotta admit our, uh, 'repartee' was pretty bad." 

 "It approached noxious," Fraser muttered. "But I was enjoying it." 

 "Me, too." Ray smiled over his shoulder at Fraser, got a faint smile
back, and reached for the doorknob, as the other side sounded like a much
quieter and safer place to be now. 

 Dief sat in the hall, a picture of dejection and repentance. "I'm sorry,"
he whimpered. "I even blew it. You might've gotten to it. And now you
won't and it's all my..." 

 "Dief, man, c'mon," Ray said, crouching to put an arm around Dief where
the latter sat, head hanging, tail flat and still. "You got some issues
goin' on here, obviously. You been fine, and now when we...uh...well, now
you're not. Lemme get a shower and you hang out here with Frase, and maybe
have another doughnut--" 

 "I don't deserve another doughnut. I'm an evil wolf dog!" Dief put his
head back and howled. 

 "Diefenbaker, the neighbors!" Fraser said, glancing rapidly around, as
though the sound waves of Dief's howl might be visible, shooting through
cracks in the plaster to violate the Saturday mornings of the other
tenants. 

 "Sorry," Dief whimpered, shrinking even smaller. 

 Fraser muttered what Ray would have sworn were the words "Damn it,"
apparently at himself, then said "Dief, you're not...um, evil. You're
upset, obviously. Perhaps Ray's right; we'll wait for him to complete his
ablutions, and in the meantime, just...relax. Perhaps you could do with a
belly rub. All that pemmican may be upsetting your stomach." 

 Dief sniffed. 

 Ray hugged him. Fraser was offering a cuddle; that should help, judging
by the way Dief talked about it. "It's gonna be okay. Fraser, c'mere and
tell Dief it's gonna be okay." 

 Unhesitating, Fraser went to one knee and took Dief from Ray's hold,
scratching behind his ears with one hand and snugging him close with the
other arm. Ray gazed in quiet envy at the smooth, damp chest, evenly pale
as a snowy hillside, that Dief, his head hanging over Fraser's shoulder,
was now pressed against, and escaped into the bathroom, where, Buddha be
praised, it still smelled like Fraser. The guy was chemically addictive. 

 "Talking wolf. I got a talking wolf and a mostly naked god in the
apartment," Ray sighed. "A hysterical talking wolf and a really really
confused naked god. Only me. Only Stanley Raymond Kowalski." He turned the
shower back on. 

 Poor Diefkins. Ray sighed, soaping up. The guy was torn between helping
his Fraser be as happy as possible, and keeping as much of his Fraser as
he could for himself as possible. That was obvious, after Fraser's talking
about Dief's being some kind of loner weirdo, and Dief talking about why
the hell would he be stuck in this hole except for Fraser, and hey, maybe
Dief didn't really like him as much as it seemed like while he was
sleeping with Dief over the last couple days. Maybe Dief just couldn't
stand the thought of hating Fraser's mate or something. Maybe-- 

 Nah. Fraser's last prospective "mate", not counting the bounty hunter,
had SHOT Dief. And as a result of their liaison, Ray Vecchio had SHOT
Fraser because Fraser nearly betrayed everything he believed in-- 

 Well, no, wait. That could be taken another way. Maybe Dief just wanted
to get Fraser with somebody Dief liked and trusted before who the hell
knew what could happen next, after that. Maybe Dief-- 

 He sighed, water dripping off him as he slumped. Maybe the reason he
could now understand Dief was so that he could maybe ASK about these
things instead of letting his vacillating self-image dictate them to him? 

 "I gotta ask a dog wolf creature about my love life," Ray muttered. "I am
pathetic." 

 Well, that wasn't real fair to Dief either. After all, Ray'd talked to a
lot of humans who weren't half as intelligent or interesting. Ray got
clean and brushed his teeth, thought a second, shaved quick with the
electric, and realized he had no towel. Well, fuck it, it was his
apartment. He opened the bathroom door, dripped all over the rug in the
process of picking the towel up off the bedroom floor, then went back in
the bathroom and shut the door again to finish getting dry, which was not
happening on its own very fast due to two shower's worth of steam in the
bathroom. 

 Out in the front room, it had sounded pretty quiet, so after he got done
fooling with his hair, he headed straight out there. He could check on
Dief real quick, then get dressed. 

 Fraser was on the couch, holding Diefenbaker in his lap. He
was--hopefully, dear God--still wearing the towel and he looked like he
was naked except for the wolf. Dief had his head on Fraser's shoulder and
he was whimpering a little, and Fraser was rocking him just slightly,
talking quietly to him. 

 Ray found himself gulping with some unknown disquiet at the sight, and
realized that, okay, it was now becoming quite clear that the person
around here with a genuine problem was Ray, not Dief or Fraser. This
Dief-being-sentient thing was obviously not going to be easy to work out
in his head. Dief was sentient, like humans. But he wasn't human. Head
trip, big time. 

 "I just want you to be happy," Dief was muttering. 

 Fraser said something back in French, which made Ray blink until he
remembered that Fraser spoke about half a dozen languages, with varying
degrees of proficiency. If Fraser did in fact hear Dief speaking in actual
words even part of the time, then, for whatever reason, he was probably
hearing Dief in French at the moment, and responding in kind. Maybe it was
his subconscious's way of expressing a desire for privacy, so Ray started
to fade back. 

 "Ray?" Fraser looked around, pronouncing Ray's name with a short "a" and
a little liquid roll on the "r". "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" 

 Even Ray knew that one. "I just thought you guys might like some
privacy." 

 "Alors, nous somme--I mean, we were waiting for you," Fraser corrected
himself. "Sorry." 

 "S'okay. You guys looked pretty deep." Ray came up to the couch and
crouched next to it, resting on the arm. "Hey, Dief," he said, holding up
a hand to Dief. "Feelin' better?" 

 "Yes," Dief sighed. "Sorry I, um. You know. Freaked out." 

 "Well, it was kinda scary there for a minute. You're a wolf and all." 

 "Yeah, so I've been told," Dief muttered. 

 "I think you and I could rest Diefenbaker's mind on one thing, at least,
even if not address his entire problem," Fraser said quietly. 

 "Hm?" Ray looked up. Fraser unwound one hand from Dief's fur and wound it
into Ray's still-gel-slick-hair instead. Ray shied a bit, not getting it
at once. "What?" 

 "Veuillez m'embrasser?" Fraser murmured. 

 "Sorry?" Damned if he knew what that meant, but it sure sounded pretty
coming out of Fraser's mouth, in that warm, light baritone... 

 "He wants you to kiss him," Dief translated helpfully, tail wagging a
bit, with a hopeful whimper. 

 "Oh. Uh..." With Dief right there? Okay yeah, Dief'd do it with a UPS
crate on a busy street, so maybe he didn't give a shit, but Ray was not a
dog. Wolf. Whatever. 

 But God, with Fraser all damp and soft and still slightly pink and
practically naked and the hell with it, and then he was leaning across
Dief and kissing Fraser, gently. And those soft-looking, redly shining
lips were just that soft, or softer. 

 Oh, God. Sweet. 

 After a few moments, though, he couldn't ignore Dief's warm furry
presence smushed against both their bare chests, felt awkward, and pulled
away, with a shy smile. "Like that?" 

 "Juste ainsi. C'etait gentil," Fraser smiled back. Ray looked at Dief. 

 "He liked it," Dief said, tail wagging a little harder. It was weird
their first kiss had heavily involved Diefenbaker in both an emotional and
physical fashion, but then, it didn't have to count as a first-kiss kiss.
It was a friendly kiss to make Dief feel like he hadn't ruined everything.
The next one would be more private. He smiled at Fraser, and got a smile
back that seemed to echo his thoughts. In French. 

 "So you up for some pizza, there, furface?" Ray wondered, and Dief yipped
and climbed over the sofa arm and knocked Ray flat on his back. 

 "Not the ears!" Ray enjoined. "I'm in a towel, no ears, no ears, too
weird..." Dief stopped going for his ears and contented himself with
enthusiastically licking Ray's face instead. "Frase, you wanna remember
how to speak English---ppppthhhtb, damn, Dief, not so wet--and order the
pizza? I got a sixty-pound wolf sitting on my stomach. Um, I guess you'll
have to get it from the twenty-four-hour joint." 

 Fraser gave him a long-suffering expression. "Ray, we all just ate." 

 "You got your methods, I got mine. He likes it cold, too, he can eat it
later, and even the smell seems to cheer him up." 

 "The very idea seems to cheer him up," Fraser noted, getting up, making a
fast grab when his towel tried to keep its spot on the couch, and, shaking
his head, he went to the kitchen bar and the phone. But he was still
smiling. And he winked at Ray on his way past. 

 "We need to go to the park," Ray was saying, roughhousing with Dief,
fluffing up the fur along his sides. "We gotta run your fat gut around
some. We gotta play some Frisbee. Sound like fun?" 

 Dief barked a pure bark, tail now switching back and forth like a
windshield wiper, and though it didn't sound like words, at least to Ray,
it did sound like Dief, for the moment, was over his melancholy, soothed
by Fraser and cheered by Ray. 

 "The things we do for you," Ray muttered, during a moment he was sure
Dief wasn't looking at his face. 

 "This is nothing," Fraser warned him in a near-inaudible mutter, still
unable to stop smiling. "Let a wolf save your life..."	

End Talking to the Dog III: Patience is a Virtue Which Must be Cultivated
by Blue Champagne: bluecham@mindspring.com

Author and story notes above.