Stages 

 Completed November 12, 1998
 Revised November 23, 1998
 Posted to Due South Archive February 17, 1999
  

DISCLAIMER: Benton Fraser and Ray Vecchio belong to Alliance Television
and Paul Haggis. They are being used without permission, and without
profit. No infringement on the rights of the owners is intended. 

WARNING: **NC-17 Slash** This means that this story contains graphic
descriptions of m/m sex. If you are underage in your location, or you
don't care to read this sort of thing, please do us all a favor and delete
now. By reading further, you are acknowledging that **you have been
warned.** 

NOTES: This story takes place during the pilot episode of Due South. 

THANKS to Vicki for invaluable comments on the first version of "Stages."
You made it a much better story. 

SUMMARY: A small cabin, a cold night, two lonely cops. 

"Stages"
 A Due South PWP
 by Dorothy Marley
 demarley@yahoo.com
 

---------- 

It was a long ride back to the post. It wouldn't be dark, Fraser assured
him, for several more hours, but Ray didn't think that the dark would have
made any difference to Fraser. Or to Diefenbaker. Fraser hadn't said
anything, but Ray had seen the look on his face as he'd carried the
bleeding wolf to the sled, and he'd have bet money--a lot of it--that
Fraser would make it if he had to feel his way in the dark. It was the
first time Ray had seen a crack in the other man's composure, and it was a
little bit of a shock. Even his father's death didn't seem to have hit
Fraser as hard as the prospect of losing one deaf wolf. 

When they finally reached the town, Fraser bypassed the RCMP post
altogether, urging the exhausted team onwards until they reached the tiny
animal hospital. Fraser went in with Dief in his arms, and Ray followed
more slowly, the jolting ride through the snow--not to mention his earlier
acrobatics--having finally taken its toll on his battered body. He took a
seat in the waiting room while Fraser spoke briskly to the white-coated
doctor, his clear, crisp diction falling soothingly on Ray's ears. He had
a nice voice, Ray reflected, the kind of voice that made everything he
said sound reasonable, and plausible. 'Yeah,' he mused wryly, 'Even things
like "Jump off this sled and ambush this guy, would you? You know, the guy
with the machine gun and the snowmobile?" Sure, Fraser, no problem . . .' 

"Ray?" 

Ray started from his unintended nap to find Fraser kneeling in front of
him, studying him with those clear blue eyes. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I'm
awake." 

"I phoned the post from here," Fraser said. "They're sending some men to
retrieve Gerard." 

"I thought you'd want to do that yourself," Ray said, surprised. 

"I can't leave Diefenbaker," Fraser said, as if that should have been
obvious. 

"Is he going to be okay?" 

For the first time, Fraser hesitated. "They don't know yet. I'm going to
stay here until they do." He paused again. "One of the officers can take
you back to the cabin, if you want. You need to rest." 

"I'm fine," Ray said automatically, adding, "This is a nice chair. I like
this chair. I could sit in this chair forever." 

That got him a smile, a faint, almost imperceptible one, but a smile.
"Thanks, Ray," Fraser said quietly, then rose smoothly to his feet while
Ray watched enviously. It wasn't fair. Okay, so maybe Fraser hadn't been
nearly disintegrated and subsequently hospitalized, like he had, but he'd
think that after being chased over half of Canada by guys with machine
guns, Fraser would have the decency to at least act a little humanly
tired. 

"Where are you going?" 

"To get the rest of the team settled in. Dr. Fowler has offered the use of
her boarding facilities." 

It almost killed him to even think of getting up, but it wasn't his wolf
lying there being cut open, and Ray couldn't let Fraser shoulder
everything. "You need any help?" 

"No," Fraser said quickly. "No, I can manage. I'll be back in a few
minutes." He reached up and gripped Ray's shoulder briefly, squeezing him
gently through the layers of his clothes. "You get some rest." 

Ray watched him go, his shoulder still tingling warmly where Fraser had
touched him. Just when he thought it was safe. Damn him. 

---------- 

It was the next morning before they returned to the cabin. Diefenbaker had
been pronounced out of danger after a few hours, but by then it had been
dark, and Fraser hadn't wanted to leave until the rest of the team had had
a chance for a full night's rest. A prohibition, it seemed, that didn't
apply to Fraser. He'd left Ray to sleep on the floor of the hospital
waiting room, and walked the mile to the post to find out about Gerard,
and make his report. When he returned after dawn, he'd awakened Ray and
hitched up the team, and before long they were jouncing over the trail
that led up to the cabin. 

The door was still standing ajar, and Ray went in cautiously, looking
around at the cabin's single room. "Well, the place isn't in bad shape,"
he observed. 

"Ray, this room has been machine-gunned, and a hand grenade was detonated
in here." 

"That's what I mean. For a place that's been blown up, it's not bad." 

In fact, the clean-up didn't take long. The cabin was pretty small, and it
was fairly easy to divide the contents into what could be salvaged and
what had to be thrown away. The biggest task was sealing all the broken
windows, but Fraser found a roll of plastic and used it to cover the
shattered panes, stuffing wads in the remaining cracks and then hammering
the shutters closed. Miraculously, the window over the bed had escaped
unscathed, and Fraser left it unshuttered, allowing what feeble sunlight
there was to filter in through the dusty glass. 

It was early evening before Ray had finished sweeping the bits of wood,
glass, and cushion foam into a pile, and scooped them onto the
ever-growing trash heap to be burned. Once done, he collapsed on the
remains of the couch, ignoring the ominous creaks from the abused piece of
furniture, and closed his eyes, enjoying the respite. Fraser, who'd been
toiling alongside him all afternoon, had gone out a few minutes earlier on
some mysterious errand of his own, dragging behind him a large metal tub
that had been propped behind the stove. Ray hadn't asked, and in fact he
was glad to be rid of the Mountie's relentless diligence for a little
while. 

As the quiet settled over the cabin, Ray closed his eyes, listening to the
wind blow around the corners, hearing the soft scrape of tree limbs
against the thick walls. Quiet, peaceful . . . conducive to thought. And
that, he realized just a little too late, was exactly the kind of thing he
didn't really need to be doing right now. 

This was embarrassing. He was thirty-five years old, for Godsakes. Too old
to be having anything as juvenile as a crush. Even if it was on a tall,
blue-eyed Mountie with a nice voice. A tall, blue-eyed Mountie who'd saved
his life. Who still believed in holding doors for old women, who'd faced a
room full of Chicago toughs with guns . . . and probably leapt tall
buildings in a single bound. 'Or cliffs,' Ray amended tiredly. 

Fraser returned shortly, still carrying the tub, which was now heaped with
snow. He set it down in the front of the stove, and started to build up
the fire. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Ray asked. "There's not enough snow
outside, you've got to bring it inside, too?" 

Fraser turned to look at him in mild surprise. "You don't want a bath?" he
asked. 

"A bath? In snow?!" 

"Well, you melt the snow first, Ray." 

"Yeah, I gathered that. And no, I don't want a bath. I've been wet enough
the last two days, thanks very much." 

Fraser merely shrugged. "Suit yourself." 

While the snow melted, Fraser fixed them a huge supper, and Ray astonished
himself by gobbling down a plateful of food that would have choked his
brother-in-law. 

"I'm going to swell up like a blimp if you keep feeding me like this," he
accused, and received a curious look in return. 

"A body uses calories quickly in the cold," Fraser informed him. "And fat
is an excellent insulator." 

"Well, I don't plan to stick around long enough for that to matter," Ray
said. "You can pack on as much blubber as you need, but when I get back to
Chicago I'm going to have to join a gym." 

Fraser didn't say anything for a moment. "Very true," he finally replied,
and stood up. He stuck an experimental finger in the tub, testing the now
gently steaming water, then sat down on the bed to unlace his boots. 

This was something Ray hadn't quite counted on. Okay, so it was logical
that Fraser would have to get naked to take a bath, but Ray hadn't fully
appreciated what it would mean to be confined here in the same room with
him while he did. Well, it was too late now to pretend he had something
else to do, and he couldn't very well take a stroll outside in sub-zero
temperatures. There was nothing to do but act like nothing unusual was
happening, just pretend that there weren't inches of smooth, pale skin
being exposed over there by the stove, that that wasn't the sound of
buckles being undone, of a zipper going down. And then, finally, the soft
splash of water in the tub. Then . . . 

"Ray, I forgot my towel. Could you hand it to me?" 

For a second, Ray wondered if it was possible to forget how to breathe.
Then he swallowed, and stood up, reaching for the towel folded over the
back of the chair. "Sure." He resisted a brief, childish urge to hand it
to him without looking, to just back up and stick his arm out for Fraser
to take it. But that was ridiculous. They were both grown men, mature
adults. He could handle this. He turned, the towel in his hands,
determined to keep his eyes resolutely up, above the level of the tub. It
would have a been a good strategy if Fraser had been sitting down. 

"Here's your towel," he said unnecessarily, yanking his eyes up, but not
quickly enough, he was sure, to disguise the fact that he'd been unable to
keep from staring. God Jesus, but there was no justice. Okay, yeah, so
he'd wondered what the other man looked like under his uniform, under all
that plain brown and bright red, but that was fantasy. This beautiful pale
sculpture of a man was reality, and none of it more real than the dark
triangle of hair at his groin, the contrast between it and his white skin
almost an invitation to stare. But Ray resisted, snatching only a brief,
tantalizing glance of the soft, thick shape nestled there before tearing
his eyes away. "You need anything else?" he heard himself say, and hoped
to God that Fraser didn't hear the wealth of innuendo that was, he was
sure, suddenly embedded in every syllable. 

"No, thanks, Ray." Fraser reached for the towel, and Ray was almost
relieved to see the bloodied bandage wrapped around his arm, giving him
something else to focus on other than the other acres of bare skin. 

"When did you get hurt?" he asked. "You didn't say you got hurt." 

Fraser glanced at his own arm, as if he didn't remember. "Oh, that. It's
nothing, just some scatter from a shotgun." 

"You got *shot*? You got shot and you didn't tell me?" 

"Well, there wasn't really time, Ray. And it's not serious. Dr. Fowler
bandaged it for me." 

"The vet? You let the *vet* treat your arm?" 

"She's a fine doctor." Fraser bent down to put the towel on the floor,
then lowered himself carefully into the bath. "Although . . ." He
hesitated. 

"Yeah?" 

"Well, I hate to ask, but the bandage really ought to be changed, and it's
a little awkward--" 

"Where's the kit." 

As Fraser had said, the wound wasn't serious, but a couple of the pellets
had gouged deep, and the whole area was red and scraped. Ray concentrated
on putting on more disinfectant, being as gentle as he could while he
dabbed out the healing cuts, and then wrapped more bandages around
Fraser's arm. The other man's skin was warm and soft against his fingers,
sliding smoothly over the hard muscle underneath. Ray tried to focus on
that, and keep his mind away from the rest of the man sitting naked beside
him. But his work kept his eyes legitimately aimed downward, and as he
began to wind the bandages around Fraser's bicep, he couldn't help but
notice that the other man was getting hard. 'It's not me,' he told himself
firmly. 'The guy's sitting naked, and I'm touching his skin, it's not
anything personal. He's probably just as embarrassed as I should be.' 

"There you go," he said out loud, and tied off the end of the gauze.
"Bathe away." 

"Thanks, Ray." 

But Ray didn't move, not yet. "You can manage all right? I mean, you don't
want to get that wet." 

"I'll be fine, Ray." 

"I can help," he offered. "I could, maybe, scrub your back for you." 

For a second, Fraser just stared at him, an unreadable expression
flickering in the depths of those blue eyes. Then he reached into the tub,
and fished out the soap. "All right," he said quietly, and handed it over.


'This is hell,' Ray thought, as his hands moved over the perfect, smooth
skin. Or maybe heaven. Probably both. He had be careful not to get his own
brace wet, but it was worth it, just for the chance to touch him, to
lather his palms over the strong, broad back, feeling the muscles relax
under his touch, seeing Fraser's eyes slowly drift closed as Ray washed
him. He risked another look at his groin, and nearly dropped the soap when
he saw the straight, full erection bobbing gently against the other man's
thigh. Fraser wasn't even bothering to hide it. Maybe he didn't want to. 

"Okay," Ray said at last. "I think your back has been scrubbed." 

Fraser straightened, and turned to take the washcloth and soap from him.
"Thanks, Ray," he said, and somehow his face was suddenly very close to
Ray's, a faint sheen of damp sweat covering his brow. He swallowed. "Ray .
. ." 

Ray kissed him. It was an impulse, something he'd never have done if he'd
stopped to think for even a second. So he didn't think. There was a faint
splash, and a muffled noise from the lips against his, then a pair of
strong, dripping arms was around him, and Ray was being kissed like he'd
never been kissed in his life. Fraser's grip tightened, and Ray was
suddenly lifted to his feet, water cascading down around them both as
Fraser's mouth found his again. Ray pressed himself closer, heedless of
the water, or the cold, or anything other than the heat of Fraser's mouth
on him. This was what he wanted, what he needed, and he wasn't going to
look back. 

They stumbled across the floor together, not able to separate even for the
amount of time it would have taken for them to find the bed. Ray landed on
top, and a second later felt Fraser's hands tearing at his clothes, in a
couple of instances literally, his quick, efficient hands stripping Ray to
the skin in a matter of moments. 

"Oh, god," Ray breathed against him as he finally lowered his naked body
on top of Fraser's, molding his bare skin to Fraser's dampness, loving the
erotic slide of their bodies as Fraser's slippery-wet legs wrapped around
him, pulling him close. They were both more than frantic now, hands and
lips and teeth and tongues moving wherever they could reach, desperately
caressing. Fraser's hands slid down his back to his buttocks, two broad
palms settling and squeezing until Ray gasped on top of him, his cock
leaping up between their bodies. Fraser felt it, and kissed him even
harder, his tongue delving in to lick his lips, to force its way inside
until Ray was panting for breath. Fraser's arms tightened again, and
without warning Ray was suddenly on his back, Fraser's greater weight
pressing down on him, one thigh sliding between his legs. For a second, it
was almost frightening, then Ray felt the hard slide of Fraser's cock
against his, and any fears he might have had melted away in the hot flood
of helpless lust. 

Ray groaned out loud, lifting his hips to grind them into Fraser's,
hearing the other man's breath catch. Then Fraser kissed him once more,
hard and desperate, and turned them again, drawing Ray down on top of him,
then pushing him away, just enough to allow him to turn over in the narrow
bed, spreading himself out on his stomach, his legs parted wide in an
invitation Ray didn't need repeated. But when Ray would have risen up,
Fraser caught his good wrist, stopping him. He brought Ray's fingers to
his mouth, and slowly sucked and licked them until they were thoroughly
wet, the sensual glide of his tongue over Ray's fingertips nearly as
erotic as the thought of why he was doing it. When he was satisfied, he
let Ray's wrist go, and sighed softly as Ray made the first damp
exploration between his legs. Ray had his doubts about spit as a
lubricant, but only until the first slippery finger sank into Fraser's
body. Fraser groaned underneath him, the first sound he'd made all this
time, and the naked, hoarse need in his voice was probably the sexiest
thing Ray had ever heard. He moaned again as the second finger went in,
but when Ray would have added the third he shook his head. 

"Now," he said, his voice nearly inaudible, but Ray had to make sure. 

"Now?" 

"Now!" 

Fraser screamed when Ray went in. There wasn't any other word for the
strangled, raw noise he made as Ray sank into his body. But when Ray
stopped, appalled, Fraser shook his head violently. "No," he panted. "It's
all right, it's all right. I'd forgotten . . . it feels good. Please." He
nearly groaned the last word, and the sheer need in it sent a jolt of lust
through Ray's body. He pushed in again, and this time the cry was softer,
a long, liquid moan that melted Ray's bones. "Oh, yes. That's it," Fraser
breathed into the pillow, and Ray nearly came on the spot. His hips bucked
involuntarily, and Fraser rose to meet him, pushing back even harder. Ray
took the hint, and started fucking the other man for all he was worth,
unable to hold back any longer, driving deep into him, pounding him into
the mattress with every thrust. He lunged in and out of Fraser's body, the
sweet friction building in his cock, reveling in the sounds Fraser was
making, the shameless, unabandoned cries of pleasure, each one torn out of
him as though he'd held them in all his life. 

Finally, Fraser's cries crescendoed into a long, hoarse scream, and his
body froze, his hips shuddering into the bed as he spent himself in a
long, trembling orgasm. His muscles clamped tight around Ray's cock, tight
enough that it only took a single extra thrust to come, and he heard
Fraser groan again as he climaxed inside him. Fraser shivered beneath him,
a long, trembling aftershock rippling through him almost like a second
orgasm. God, it must have been a long time. When he had his breath back,
Ray made as if to pull out, but Fraser stopped him, reaching out to catch
his hand. 

"No," he mumbled. "Please. Not until you have to. Please." 

"Okay," Ray panted gently. "Sure." So he spread himself over Fraser's back
instead, leaning down to kiss softly at the back of his neck, regretting
now that he hadn't done it before. Regretting a lot of things that he
hadn't done before. 

"God," he breathed into Fraser's soft, sweat-damp skin. "I can't believe I
just . . . I haven't felt like that since . . ." 

"Shh . . ." Fraser's hand groped for his, found it, and raised the palm to
his lips. "Shh," he whispered into his skin. "Just hold me," he said
quietly. "Please. Just hold me." 

---------- 

Fraser was gone from the bed by the time Ray woke. A quick survey of the
cabin showed that Fraser wasn't there, and Ray decided he was probably out
feeding the dogs or hunting breakfast, or doing some other early-morning
Mountie task. The tub was still standing by the stove, and Ray took the
opportunity to take a quick bath of his own, not caring who'd used the
water before him. After last night, he supposed it hardly mattered if they
shared a little dirty bathwater. 

Not long after he'd finished dressing, Fraser returned, his hat and coat
dusted with snow. He hesitated a second in the doorway, then carefully
pulled it shut behind him. "Good morning, Ray," he said. 

"Morning, Fraser." 

"How are you?" 

"I'm fine. Yourself?" 

"Fine." 

They stared at each other for a long moment. Fraser was the first to look
away. "Ray . . . I think we need to--" 

"It's forgotten." 

Fraser blinked. "Excuse me?" 

"Forgotten. I've forgotten all about it. Total memory loss." Ray waited.
"That's what you were asking, right?" 

"Well, no, actually, I was going to--" 

"Look, we both know what happened. Two guys, stuck out here in the middle
of nowhere, risking our lives, it's perfectly natural to . . . well, you
know." 

Slowly, Fraser nodded. "Yes," he said carefully, "it's very common for
people who have shared near-death experiences to seek intimate relations,
but I don't--" 

"There you have it. We did it, it's over, it's out of our systems now, and
we can just forget it and move on." 

"Move on," Fraser repeated. "Move on to where, Ray?" 

"Well, back to Chicago, for one. I mean, your life is here, right? And
mine is there, right? And even if this did happen, which it didn't, it
wouldn't do any good for it to happen any more, because it can't happen
while we're thousands of miles away from each other. Which is why it can't
happen again." 

It took Fraser a moment to work that through. "Because we'll be thousands
of miles away from each other," he concluded, and Ray nodded. 

"Exactly." He stepped up to clap Fraser on the shoulder. "I knew you'd
understand." 

"So it didn't happen," Fraser said slowly. He licked his lips, visibly
working it through in his head. "I just want to be clear. You want to say
that we didn't have sex." 

"Right." 

Fraser shook his head vigorously. "But we did, Ray. We did, and I think
that--" 

"Fraser, we made a mistake, all right? It happens. But I don't want to
lose our friendship over this. Can you understand that?" 

For the first time, Ray saw enlightenment in the other man's eyes. "Yes,"
he said presently. "Yes, I understand." He looked down. "Your friendship
is very important to me, Ray. And you're right, I wouldn't want to lose
it." 

"Good. Then it's settled." 

He waited, and after a moment, Fraser nodded, still staring at the floor.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, I suppose it is. Well." He looked up, and smiled
faintly. "Well," he said again. "I guess I need to get breakfast." He
moved past Ray to the food shelf, and ran his hands over the stacked
supplies. "Ray . . ." he said after a moment. 

"Yeah, Fraser?" 

Fraser turned to look at him, a strange expression in his clear blue gaze.
"Thank you." 

"For what?" 

Fraser opened his mouth, then closed it, smiled, and turned away again. 

"Nothing." 

THE END 

Continued in "Stages II: A Thousand Miles." 

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