Pairing: Fraser/RayK (Barbara/Damien) 
Rating: NC-17 for m/m loving and strong-ish language 
Disclaimer: Alliance owns it all. 
Warning: the sex is slightly stronger than 'vanilla' 
Note: This is the third in the 'Happy Holidays' series, following
'Fireworks' and 'Special Thanks'. My undying gratitude as always to M-A
for support and beta duties. 

Thanks Again 

by Sylvie Grenon 

 The turkey had been decimated, the stuffing had been stuffed away, only a
few crumbs remained of a golden pumpkin pie, and peace reigned in a
trailer home in Skokie. Fraser had dragged off a grumbling, happily fed-up
wolf to a neighbouring park to walk off their ample dinner; even the
Mountie had been unable to turn down second and even - Lord help him! -
third helpings of Barbara Kowalski's cooking. Damien was sitting on the
front 'porch', hunched over in his lawn chair, fast asleep in the November
twilight, enjoying the last of the year's mild weather. Ray was in the
kitchen, having insisted on helping his mother with the dishes. 

 He watched her carefully as he waited, rather patiently for him, for her
to get a pot scrubbed clean enough for her liking. His parents' arrival in
Chicago a few weeks earlier had really thrown him for a loop. They were
being nice to him, his dad even offering to help him with the GTO, and he
couldn't quite understand why, kept waiting for that other shoe to drop. 

  "Mom," he asked softly in deference to his dad who was sleeping just
beyond the open window in front of them. "Why are you guys here?" 

  Her eyes never left the sudsy water, though she paused in her scrubbing.
"It's a nice place, perfect for people our age." 

  "No, I mean, why did you come back to Illinois? How come you're spending
a holiday here?" 

  "Instead of with our grandchildren, you mean?"she asked, still not
looking up. 

  "Nah, Dad told me about the kids being sick, and how you didn't want to
bother them right now. It's just... well, I thought you guys liked
Arizona." 

  She looked up, now, and he was startled at the pain in her eyes. "Oh,
Stanley, you mean as much to us as a whole herd of grandkids. Sure, we
like Arizona, but we love you." 

  He looked down at the tea towel in his hands, fiddling absently with it.
He knew she loved him; he also knew that by 'we', she was only referring
to one of them. "I know you do, Mom." 

  The firm grip on his arm startled him into meeting her gaze. "We both
do, Stanley. Your dad might not show it too often, but don't ever doubt
that he loves you." 

  He smiled a little at that, drawing a shuddering breath. "Geez, Mom;
were you always psychic, or did that come when Marlon and I were born?" 

  She turned back to her dishes with a smile of her own. "Neither, dear;
you never could hide anything from me." 

  He picked up a plate and swiped at it ruefully with the cloth. "Been
talking to Dad, huh?" 

  "I didn't have to; I knew all about the lamp." 

  "Yeah, he told me," Ray admitted. 

  "I knew about the car, too." 

  "You did not!" 

  She turned and raised an eyebrow at him. "I even knew about the
cigarette you and Jimmy Lebowski shared in the garage when you thought
your Dad and I were at the movies." 

  He stared at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. "You had the
garage bugged, right?" 

  She reached over and patted his cheek with a damp hand. "No, Stanley. I
just know you." She did, he had to admit that. He'd never been able to
keep a secret from her, not once. 

  "You always were the only one who could figure me out." 

  Her smile seemed to melt away at that, and he stared at her in concern.
"Mom?" 

  "I always could, until now. Stanley, I want to ask you something, and I
want you to be perfectly honest with me. None of this nonsense about
what's good for me - tell me the truth." 

  Um. This didn't sound good. "Sure, Mom. Okay." 

  "You and Benton..." 

  Oh. No. 

  "Are you..." 

  Oh. Shit. 

  She took a deep breath, seeming to steel herself. "Are you and Benton...
together?" 

  Shit, shit, shit. He was not ready for this; not now, not when things
were just starting to come together between him and his parents. Looked
like that other shoe had not only dropped, but bounced back up and kicked
him in the head. He had to tell her the truth, though, and damn the
consequences. 

  "Yeah, Mom. We are." 

  Her eyes filled with tears, and he felt a pang of guilt and regret; he'd
always hated to see her cry. 

  "Oh, Stanley," she said, then, to his surprise, drew him into a tight
hug. "Stanley, my baby boy. I worry enough about you being a policeman,
without this, too!" 

  "Mom?" he asked, his own eyes prickling suspiciously. 

  "You think I'm blind, Stanley? You think I don't see on the television,
in the newspapers, how dangerous it is for a man to be with another man?
Oh, I'm not talking about sickness, anyone can get that if they're not
careful; it's all the horrible, horrible people who would want to hurt you
if they knew..." 

  Ray tightened his embrace, pressed his cheek up against his mother's.
"They're not gonna know, Mom. Fraser and me, we're not exactly gonna tell
the world, you know. And if they do find out, well, we can take care of
ourselves. Take care of each other." 

  She released him then, just far enough to look him in the eye. "Do you
love him?" 

  "Yeah, Mom, I do. A lot." 

  "Are you happy?" 

  He met her gaze, unflinching. "More than I've ever been." 

  She smiled at that, leaning back in to kiss his cheek. "Then I'm happy
for you, too." 

  As they turned back to the dishes, he asked quietly, "So, which one of
us tells Dad?" 

  She patted his arm. "You take care of your man, dear; let me take care
of mine." 

  Ray realized, as he started putting the pots away, that it was probably
the first time he'd blushed in front of his mother since his teens. 

 

  Barbara watched as her husband stirred the customary chocolates in his
coffee, with her usual mix of affection and exasperation. He reminded her
so much of their youngest son; he and Stanley had the same mannerisms, the
same gruff gentleness - even the same electric hair, she thought with a
smile. 

  They had packed the boys off a short while earlier, with leftovers and
promises to visit soon, and the elder Kowalskis were sharing a peaceful
moment together before going to bed. 

  Once he had his coffee to his liking, Damien took a sip, and sighed. She
knew what was on his mind; her Stanley wasn't the only one she could read
like a book. "How much of that did you hear?"she asked him softly. 

  He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Enough." 

  "They've got a long, hard road ahead of them," she said sadly. 

  Damien snorted. "And whose fault is that?" 

  She pricked up at that. She may have married him for better or worse,
but no one, not even him, attacked her children. "Damien! He's made his
choice, and whether we like it or not, we will support him." 

  He opened his mouth to answer, but she headed him off. "You had your
turn! I sat there for years, Damien, not saying a word while you turned
our son away, not telling him how proud I was that he was such a good
policeman, not going to him when he was hurt, not helping him when his
wife left him. And now I have to face a son who thinks he's second best
with us, that we just settle for him when we have nothing better to do,
and, oh, Damien, it just breaks my heart to see him look so surprised when
we do something nice for him. That first big decision, his decision to
become a policeman, that one was for you to deal with, and you did, and we
all got hurt and wasted time, but that's over with now. This time, it's my
turn to deal with his decision, and I say we will not lose him again, just
because of who he's chosen to love." 

  Damien stared at her for a long moment, at a loss for words in the face
of his wife's vehemence. In more than forty years of marriage, she'd put
her foot down on only a handful of matters, but where her two sons were
concerned, she was a rock. Finally, he reached across their small kitchen
table and gently grasped her hand, mildly surprised to find it was
trembling. 

  "It's that important to you, Barb?" 

  He could feel her fingers tense beneath his. "It should be to you, too,
Damien." 

  He thought about it. Thought about Ray, and how this thing between him
and the Mountie flew in the face of everything he'd been taught was right;
how people would be angry, and disgusted, and hurtful, not only at his son
for being 'that way', but maybe even at his parents for raising him to be
like that. He thought about Fraser, and how much he obviously loved his
son - oh, Damien wasn't blind either, anymore than his wife was. 

  And he thought about her, the woman he'd spent his life with, and he
realized that if Ray and Fraser loved each other even half as much as he
loved Barbara, then they were going to be all right. 

  "I don't understand it, Barb, anymore than I understand why he'd want to
be a cop. But he's a good cop, I've seen that. And I've seen him with
Fraser; he's good with him, too. And if that's what he wants, well, that's
up to him." 

  God, he loved to see her face light up like that. "Oh, Damien!" The
coffee was forgotten as she tightened her fingers around his. "You know,"
she added with a mischievous smile, "I think I made the right choice,
marrying you." 

  He chuckled. "Here's hoping!" He thought again to his youngest son,
hoping that he, too, was making the right choice. He shook his head. 

  "I don't want to think about what they might be doing right now,
though." 

  Barbara reached over to tweak his ear. "Probably the same thing that we
could be doing, dear, if you'd get your mind back over here." 

  His eyes widened at the familiar - and beloved - playfulness in his
wife's eyes. "Pitter patter, then," he said, standing suddenly, scooping
her up in his arms, ignoring her surprised giggles and carrying her to
their bed. 

 

  Ray groaned softly as Fraser's fingers worked their magic on his back,
massaging out the stress of the day. "Your mother is a wonderful cook,
Ray," he was saying as he hit a particularly sore point in Ray's lower
back. 

  Ray gasped at the sharp pain, then melted again as his body relaxed even
more. "Yeah, she is. She sees Thanksgiving as her pre-Christmas warm-up
feast." 

  "Will they be going to your brother's for the holidays?" 

  "Uh-huh. The kids should be better by then. God, two seven year-olds
with whooping cough." He shook his head at the thought. 

  Fraser eased off on the pressure, now merely stroking the long lines of
Ray's back, loathe to take his hands off his lover's warm skin. "It looked
like you had a good talk with your mother." 

  Ray tensed underneath his hands, nearly undoing all of his hard work,
and he frowned, concerned. "Ray?" 

  Ray remained face-down on the bed, his face half-buried in the pillow.
"She asked about us." 

  Fraser puzzled over that for a moment; then the meaning in those words
became all too clear. "Oh dear." 

  Ray snorted. "Yeah, 'oh dear' is right, Ben." 

  "And?" 

  "And? I never could lie to her, Ben. I told her the truth." 

  Ah. Well, far be it for him to suborn a lie, although in this particular
case he might have been sorely tempted to at least bend the truth a
little. He waited, knowing Ray would continue in his own time. 

  "You know, Ben, I thought I knew her. I thought I knew exactly how she
was gonna react - she'd look at me with these big disappointed eyes, and
say 'Oh, Stanley', and they'd be packed up and on their way back to Tucson
first thing in the morning." 

  "But she didn't." 

  "Nah, that's what gets me. She said 'Oh, Stanley', then gave me a hug
and told me it was okay!" 

  Fraser let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Obviously, Ray, she loves you very much. You're very special to her." 

  Ray turned over to face him. "See, that I don't get, Ben. Why now? All
this time, I've played second string to my brother, and now that I'm a
cop, a *gay* cop, now I'm special to her?" 

  Fraser shook his head, wondering if he was ever going to convince this
man to see his own self-worth. "No, Ray. I think the feeling was always
there, they've just now realized that they should show it more
explicitly." 

  Ray still looked doubtful. "Ten years, Ben, I never heard a thing from
my Dad, and I only heard from my Mom 'cause she was friends with Stella." 

  "Are you certain of that, Ray? Perhaps she only communicated with you
through Stella because she knew your father wouldn't approve of it
otherwise. Didn't she keep in touch with you after your divorce?" 

  He could see now a glimmer of understanding in those blue-gray eyes.
"Yeah, but..." 

  Fraser reached down to cup a golden-stubbled cheek, gazing at his lover
intently. "Ray, I saw the way she looked when she first saw you in the
station parking lot. No mother who smiles at her son the way she did feels
less than complete love for him." 

  Ray's eyes widened, and he stared at Fraser for a long moment. Finally,
he blinked and reached up to run his fingers through Fraser's hair,
gently, lovingly. "You're something else, you know that, Ben?" he
breathed. 

  Fraser felt the blush start, was powerless to stop it. "As are you,
Ray." 

  Ray's answer wasn't in words; instead, he firmly tugged on Fraser's
head, bringing it down until their mouths met. Fraser sank down onto the
bed - and his lover - with a sigh, slipping his tongue into that warm,
slick haven, tangling it with Ray's. His hands blazed a trail across the
smooth skin of Ray's chest, fingers moving up to play with
rapidly-hardening nipples. 

  "Oh, yeah," Ray murmured, arching slightly into his touch. Fraser,
wanting much more than that, broke their kiss, not without some regret,
and moved down to take one pebbled bud between his lips. Ah, now Ray's
movement was more pronounced - he was practically writhing with each of
Fraser's light nibbles. All too soon, though, he felt his lover's strong
hands tug lightly at his head, moving him away from his feast, as Ray
gasped, "Enough, Ben. God, please!" 

  Fraser lifted his head, and Ray used the motion to his advantage,
grasping the Mountie's shoulders and manoeuvring them around so that
Fraser now lay on his back. Then, raising up to straddle him, Ray started
unbuttoning his shirt, pausing every so often to tickle or caress a
sensitive spot, baring the skin for his eager eyes and hands. When the
shirt had been removed Ray bent down again and started his own oral
exploration of Fraser's chest, and before long the effect of soft stubble
on nipples had Fraser moaning softly. 

  "God, Ben,"Ray murmured between swipes of his agile tongue. "I always
thought nothing could taste better than my Mom's cooking..." 

  "Ray!" Fraser moaned, his own hands running over his lover's back,
through his soft blonde spikes. "Could you perhaps ... Oh, God! ...
refrain from mentioning ... mmm! ... your mother while we are ..." 

  Ray chuckled into Fraser's sternum before moving down to tongue the
man's navel. "Yeah, I guess that kind of talk isn't conducive to our
amorous activities, is it?" 

  Fraser was caught between astonishment and arousal as Ray's fingers
tugged at his zipper, brushing occasionally and maddeningly against the
straining bulge of his erection. "That was... well said, Ray." he managed
to gasp between grunts of pleasure. 

  Ray smiled at that. "Well, seeing as you're down to words of one
syllable, I figured one of us might as well be using your vocabulary." 

  If Fraser had been in any frame of mind to respond to that, it would
have been lost as Ray freed the Mountie's hot, hard cock and swooped down
on it, drawing it deep into his mouth with a vigorous motion. Fraser
moaned deeply at the exquisite sensation, using every last bit of his
willpower to keep from grabbing his lover's head and thrusting deeply into
that welcoming place. It didn't help, either, that Ray was using his lips,
his tongue, oh Lord!, even his teeth to bring him to higher and higher
pinnacles of pleasure. 

  He nearly cried out in anguish as that sucking mouth was lifted off his
aching cock. Ray gave the tip one last, apologetic kiss before raising up
again to pull Fraser's pants completely off, taking the opportunity to
quickly shed his own clothes. Fraser watched as Ray trailed his eyes over
his sprawled body, felt himself grow even more aroused at the passion in
that gaze. Deliberately, he spread his legs, bending his knees a little,
delighting in the groan the action caused from the man in front of him. In
the blink of an eye, Ray was back on the bed, positioning himself between
Fraser's thighs, lowering his head once again to where it was so badly
needed. 

  Fraser shut his eyes blissfully as he felt Ray's warm tongue back on his
cock, softly lapping up the beads of moisture at its tip, trailing down
the ever-so-sensitive underside of it, down to his balls, where he gently
laved the delicate sac. Fraser moaned at the sweet sensation of it,
spreading his legs even further, giving Ray more room. Then Ray spoke, the
soft breath and vibration of his voice sending an electric current through
Fraser's groin. 

  "You taste so good, Ben," Ray was murmuring, "so damned good." His hands
moved to grip Fraser's thighs, pushing them apart a little more, and he
settled himself a little further down, now kissing and tonguing Fraser's
tender perineum. "Don't even need the cranberry stuff." 

  The words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Fraser's mind.
Cranberry stuff? The only 'cranberry stuff' they had was the flavoured
lube that Ray had purchased the week before... Oh, sweet God in heaven!
The meaning of the words hit him at the same time as Ray's tongue hit his
most sensitive place, and he nearly bucked them off the bed. 

  "Ray!" The sound was half gasp, half groan, husky and incredibly
aroused. Never in his wildest fantasies had he imagined... had he dreamed
... His arms flew out to the side, his hands grabbing fistfuls of the
sheets and gripping them for dear life as Ray licked, lapped, sucked and
explored to his heart's content. Fraser was babbling incoherently now,
arching and writhing beneath him, his hips arching up with every stab of
that magical tongue into his body, forcing Ray to keep a strong hold on
Fraser's hips to keep them both stable. And then one of Ray's strong hands
reached over to firmly grasp Fraser's cock, and Ray's tongue thrust deep
inside him, and Fraser's limbs stiffened, and he came with an intensity
he'd never felt before, crying out Ray's name over and over, in time with
the pulses of hot semen that fell on his chest, his belly, Ray's hand, and
he barely heard Ray's own cry of completion. 

  Fraser lay panting on the bed, his body as sated - and as limp - as it
had ever been, managing to get enough movement back into his muscles to
stroke his lover's sweat-dampened head . Ray was licking and cleaning him
up, and small shivers of lingering pleasure coursed through him with every
swipe of that tongue. Finally, when he was clean enough to suit Ray, he
tugged him up into his arms, pulling him in for a long, tender kiss. 

  They broke apart for breath, and Fraser murmured against Ray's mouth,
"That was spectacular, Ray." 

  Ray smiled shyly. "Yeah?" 

  Fraser hoped his own smile reflected the absolute love he felt for this
man. "Yeah." 

  "Well, I wanted you to have a good Thanksgiving." 

  Fraser chuckled. "Well, I thank you most kindly for it," he said, and
Ray leaned back in for another quick kiss, before settling his head down
on Fraser's shoulder. Fraser stroked his back, softly, soothingly, not
quite ready to succumb to sleep. Neither was Ray, apparently, since his
soft voice broke the stillness of the room. 

  "You know, Ben, I think my mom really likes you." 

  "I'm very glad, Ray; I'm quite fond of her myself." 

  Ray's arm slipped across his waist. "I guess you miss your own Mom,
though, right?" 

  To his surprise, he found himself blinking back sudden tears at the
familiar pain. "Very much so," he said softly, and Ray's hold on him
tightened. 

  "She must have been a really special woman." 

  Fraser thought about long-ago days, about hugs and smiles and happy
laughter. "She was, Ray; she was kind, and gentle; very loving... and I'm
sure she would have loved you, too." 

  He felt Ray smile against his shoulder, and as the two men snuggled
closer together, allowing sleep to claim them, each man sent a silent word
of thanks to mothers, and to whatever kind being watched over them. 

  FIN 

Feedback of all sorts welcome at khristaz@yahoo.com