This story is slash, containing characters who (sadly) do not belong to me
and both happen to be men who want to have sex with each other. I'm not
writing this for any gain other than my own personal amusement. This story
is rated NC-17.  

 

What follows is the eighth installment in the "One Ray, Two Ray, Old Ray,
New Ray" (with all due deference to Dr. Suess) which will have something
in it to please or offend everyone, including Fraser/Kowalski pairings,
Fraser/Vecchio, and even Vecchio/Kowalski. You have been warned. 

 

This story takes place after "Asylum, Take 2", although to fully follow
what is going on, the author recommends having read "No Ship Like
Partnership," and the three flashback stories, "Liquor, Guns, and Ammo,"
"Reflections," and "Ain't Over Till the Mountie Sings." As far as real
time placement, it happens between "Dead Guy Running" and "Mountie on the
Bounty." 

 

any comments, suggestions, or complaints can be sent to me at
magik@socketis.net  

"Confessions" by Barbara J. Webb  

 Ray closed his eyes and tilted his head under the stream of water,
rinsing the shampoo from his hair. Warm, soapy water streamed down his
face, his neck, over his shoulders, down his back. He shook his head,
turning around to face the showerhead so the water was raining down onto
his face.  

 Showers were such a completely sensual experience to Ray - the hot water
on his skin, silky smooth as it ran over his chest, along his arms,
dripping from his fingers. The slick feel of the soap, the breathing the
steam. Stella had always complained when he would spend a half an hour
under the running water, but he just had trouble tearing himself away from
the warm, wet, relaxing environment.  

 Today was a special pleasure, the first day he'd gotten to go around
without the gauze covering his bitten ear, the first time in days he
hadn't had to be careful in the shower not to get the bandages wet. 

 Bracing himself with one hand against the wall, Ray leaned his head
forward, so the water was hitting him right between the shoulder blades,
the heat sinking into his muscles. He sighed at the feel of small rivulets
trickling over his spine, over his buttocks, along the crease between his
thigh and his ass, tickling behind his knee.  

 He heard the soft click of the bathroom door being closed. "Fraser? That
you?" 

 "Yes, Ray." Ray guessed the Mountie had used the key Ray had given him,
granting him easy access to Ray's apartment any time. 

 "What'cha up to?" 

 In answer, Fraser pulled back the shower curtain enough that he could
step into the bathtub/shower behind Ray. "Oh," Ray answered his own
question, backing against the gloriously naked Mountie. Fraser's arms came
up around his chest, sliding slickly over his skin. "So how was your day?"


 "Well, we had a group of school children at the Consulate for a tour, and
so naturally...." 

 Ray let his mind wander as Fraser went on about his day, his attention
still held by the steaming liquid falling against his chest, now vying
with the solid form of the Mountie at Ray's back for his real focus. The
rich cadences of Fraser's voice wrapped around him, as warm and
comfortable as the water, even as the words themselves blurred in the
background of his thoughts. 

 As he talked, Fraser reached in front of Ray for the soap that sat on the
little dish attached to the wall. He began lathering Ray's chest, the flat
cake of soap cupped under his strong, calloused hand. Ray leaned his head
back on Fraser's shoulder, relaxing and allowing Fraser to support most of
his weight with the arm now wrapped tightly around his waist. 

 "Turnbull was, naturally, most upset when he discovered the mess...." 

 "Oh yeah, upset," Ray echoed, lost in sensation. Fraser's soapy hand had
moved up, and his slippery fingers were now tracing lightly over Ray's
exposed throat, following the curve created by the tilt of Ray's head,
dancing lightly over his Adam's apple, then along his collarbone.  

 Angling his head, Ray flicked out his tongue to lap up the droplets of
water along Fraser's jaw, feeling the low vibration of Fraser's voice as
he spoke. "...coffee all over the place-" 

 "Fraser?"  

 "Yes, Ray?" 

 "Kiss me." * * * * * 

 "Kiss me, Fraser." Happy to oblige, Fraser touched his lips to Ray's,
tilting his face to avoid water splashing up his nose. He was perfectly
aware that Ray hadn't really been paying attention to what he'd been
saying, but didn't mind. It was enough for him that Ray wanted him there,
enjoyed hearing Fraser talk, even if he didn't always listen very closely.
Most of the time, Ray hung off Fraser's every word, but sometimes the
detective could be...a bit distracted. 

 Fraser's hands continued to wander over Ray's lean chest and flat
stomach; the heat had turned Ray's skin a rosy shade, and the thin blonde
hairs scattered across Ray's chest stood out in contrast. The hair on top
of Ray's head was plastered flat by the water, and his eyes were still
closed. Fraser thought he was so beautiful like this, molded against
Fraser, an open and unguarded smile on his angelic face. It was so rare
that Ray ever relaxed, and Fraser's stomach fluttered at the fact that he
was one of the few people in the world with whom Ray could be like this. 

 Pulling back from the kiss, Fraser peppered Ray's cheek with feathery
kisses, ending up at Ray's ear - the undamaged one. Lightly, he traced the
outer curve with the tip of his tongue, scraping his teeth gently against
the cartilage. Reaching forward, he replaced the cake of soap on its dish,
then reached down to take a hold of Ray's cock. "Yeah, Fraser, come on,
yeah." He tightened the arm he had wrapped around Ray's waist, both
supporting Ray and restraining him. 

 As Fraser began to stroke, Ray started to squirm, but Fraser kept a firm
hold. The detective's arms came up over his head, curving back so that his
hands were behind Fraser's head, pulling it forward. Fraser's cock was
hard, pressing against the small of Ray's back. Every small motion rubbed
Fraser's erection between his stomach and Ray's back. He focused his
attention on the hand that was stroking Ray, trying to ignore his own
throbbing pleasure for the moment. 

 Ray was lost in the pleasure, and Fraser couldn't help but envy that
freedom. There was no holding back, no restraint; a creature of pure
hedonistic liberation was in Fraser's arms. All Fraser could do was hold
him close and try to push him even higher. 

 Fraser felt Ray tense against him; the detective cried out
inarticulately. Fraser clung to his partner as Ray climaxed, keeping him
on his feet as he collapsed back against Fraser. "Whoa, yeah," Ray panted,
rubbing his head against Fraser's like a content feline. "God,
yer...mmm...I -- yeah." Incoherent as ever, but Fraser understood exactly
what Ray was saying. "Hey, leggo." 

 Obligingly, Fraser released Ray, and the blonde detective turned to face
the Mountie, an eager grin on his face. He kissed Fraser on the mouth, the
chin, the hollow at the base of Fraser's throat - stabbing his tongue out
there to brush against Fraser's skin. He traced the line of Fraser's
muscles down Fraser's chest, lowering himself to his knees before the
Mountie.  

 Bracing himself with a hand on the wall, Fraser put his other hand on the
top of Ray's head as Ray took Fraser into his mouth.  * * * * * 

 Ray loved the silky-smooth feel of the skin of Fraser's cock under his
lips. There was a faint soapy taste, mingled with the salty taste of
Fraser. He slid his hands over Fraser's thighs; the muscles were solid,
tensed, as Fraser tried to keep his knees from buckling. Kneading the
muscles with the flat of his hand, Ray worked back around to Fraser's ass.
 

 The Mountie was making low sounds in his throat, his hips moving just
slightly against Ray's mouth. With a long, slow motion, Ray pulled his
head back so that his lips were just lightly brushing against the tip of
Fraser's cock, flicking his tongue over it teasingly. Fraser's fingers on
his head spasmed, and there was the hint of a pull, but no more than that.
Still in control of himself, Fraser wouldn't make demands, wouldn't push
Ray's head back where he wanted it. Ray loved teasing Fraser like this,
taking shameless advantage of the Mountie's basic politeness, trying to
drive Fraser over the edge, make him lose control, while Fraser fought to
keep his composure. It was the game they played. 

 Taking pity on his partner, Ray took Fraser's cock back into his mouth,
just the head at first, and then farther down the shaft, sucking hungrily.
With one hand, he gripped the base of Fraser's erection, while the thumb
of his other hand stroked the sensitive skin behind Fraser's balls. The
middle finger of that hand he began working up inside Fraser, seeking the
prostate. 

 Now Fraser was starting to move against Ray, thrusting into Ray's mouth.
Still, the motion was restrained, careful. Ray sucked harder, bobbing his
head up and down. His arm was locked around Fraser's legs, as he fucked
Fraser with his finger. Fraser's body went stiff, and then he exploded
into Ray's mouth. Ray swallowed, moving his hands around to stroke up and
down Fraser's waist as he milked the last of the orgasm from Fraser's
cock. 

 Fraser leaned down, taking Ray by the shoulder's and lifting him up into
Fraser's embrace. They kissed under the stream of water that Ray noticed
was beginning to cool. It seemed Fraser had also picked up on that fact,
and he reached behind Ray to turn up the heat. But this was only a
temporary fix. 

 "So what wazzat about coffee?" Ray put his hand over Fraser's on the
shower knob, pushed it in to turn the water off completely. 

 Fraser pulled open the shower curtain, stepped out to retrieve towels for
them both, jumping right back into the story. "The coffee was all over
everything, including Inspector Thatcher." 

 "Ooh, I bet she loved that." Ray stepped out of the tub into the towel
that Fraser held up for him.  

 "Fortunately, she was not scalded. However, this did provoke her-" 

 "I'm sure." 

 "-to speak to the children in a somewhat terse fashion. I stepped in and
tried to smooth things over, but several of them were already in tears."
They were rubbing each other with the towels, trying not to stumble over
each other. "Fortunately, the distribution of maple leaf lollipops brought
back peace and harmony." 

 "You know, I once took a field trip to a zoo when I was a kid, and we got
to see Canadian geese." Fraser dropped his towel over Ray's head, began
rubbing his hair. "Hey!" * * * * * 

 Ignoring Ray's protest, Fraser finished drying Ray's hair. Ray was
batting at his arms, but not in any serious attempt to make Fraser stop -
just keeping up his image. When Fraser pulled the towel back, Ray's hair
was sticking up at all sorts of crazy angles. "Canadian geese?" 

 "Yeah, geese. Hey, Fraser, if goose's plural is geese, then how come
moose isn't meese?" 

 "One of the mysteries of language, Ray." Fraser kissed Ray on the
forehead lightly, then concentrated on drying the rest of the dampness
from his own body.  

 Ray wandered out of the bathroom, his towel draped over his shoulder.
Fraser couldn't keep from watching him go, the muscles under Ray's skin
rippling fluidly as he walked. It was such a pretty sight; Fraser couldn't
get tired of it. 

 "So went and listened in on the Cahill thing." 

 "The trial, you mean? How is it going?" Fraser re-dressed himself in the
bare minimum in which he truly felt comfortable - basically, everything
but the jacket. Hanging the towel neatly on the rack, Fraser came out of
the bathroom. 

 "Okay, I guess. I dunno - not a lawyer." Ray was rummaging around in the
kitchen, wearing nothing more than a pair of worn jeans. His hair was
still pointing out in all directions. Dief had dragged himself away from
the warm air vent where he customarily slept when they were here in the
evenings to make a nuisance of himself as Ray searched for food. "Looks
like leftover Chinese, leftover pizza, or the mystery foil." 

 Life with Ray had turned into one of the most nutritionally unbalanced
phases of Fraser's existence. His own eating habits had been deteriorating
steadily from the moment Ray Kowalski had stepped into his life. And he
couldn't even blame this on the new level of their relationship - it
wasn't as though they were spending much more time together now than they
had before. The only difference was the things they did now when they were
alone together. Really, it would have been difficult to spend much more
time together than they had before without surgical alteration. 

 Sometimes, that nagged at the back of Fraser's mind. For all Ray's talk
of a casual relationship, of just staying friends, Fraser wasn't sure how
much either of them believed it. Not, really, that anything much had
changed beyond the addition of sex: Fraser didn't think that they could
have been called just friends even before the sex.  

 Partners. It was the easy way out, the safe word for their relationship.
But Fraser had never been this close to anyone in his life, except for the
real Ray Vecchio, and a part of him feared this closeness.  

 They had settled into this partnership so quickly, so easily. What was it
about this dynamic, vibrant, beautiful man that had so quickly cut through
Fraser's defenses, the walls with which he kept himself at a distance from
the world? Only two other people had ever done that: Victoria, and the
real Ray. And now the new Ray. 

 "I could run to the store for some real food." Dief whined, expressing
his enthusiasm for that idea, but Ray only shrugged.  

 "I guess, if you want to. Or we could just order subs from that place
down the street. They deliver. An I don' really feel like getting out
anywhere."  

 When Ray smiled at him like that, Fraser didn't really feel like going
anywhere either. "All right, Ray." 

 "You want a Snapple?" 

 "Yes, Ray, thank you kindly." Dief grumbled and stalked over to his vent.
 

 "What's his problem?" 

 Fraser took the bottle that Ray held out for him, unscrewing the top of
the beverage. It was one of the few drinks in the world they both enjoyed,
and thus Ray had started keeping his refrigerator well stocked with a
variety of flavors. "He doesn't care for that particular location.
Apparently, they don't use enough mustard." 

 Lifting the phone receiver, Ray chuckled. "I'll be sure an tell em lotsa
mustard on his." 

 It was nice to see that, despite his initial alarmed reaction at their
first meeting, Ray had come to accept Dief as a full associate, just
assuming that he would be ordering for Dief as well as the two of them.  

 He listened idly as Ray ordered their food, without having to ask either
Fraser or Dief what they wanted, then went to settle in on the couch. On
the low table in front of him was the chess game they had started the
night before, deciding only a few moves into it that they were both too
tired to continue, especially with them both having early morning
obligations. It had been the first night in a week that Fraser hadn't
spent the night at Ray's apartment, and Fraser had been somewhat disturbed
at how lonely it had felt to be sleeping alone. Yet another way in which
Ray had simply settled into Fraser's life. 

 He studied the board; it was Ray's turn, and Fraser knew what he would
do, but was equally certain he would be unable to predict the detective's
move. Ray played chess like he did everything else, boldly, aggressively,
with an erratic and unpredictable strategy that the logical, precise
Mountie couldn't quite anticipate.  * * * * * 

 Ray finished the order, then hopped over the back of the couch to sit
beside Fraser. The Mountie was staring at the board, no doubt trying to
concoct some trap for Ray. "You wanna finish the game?"  

 "If you like." Fraser put his hand behind Ray, brushing his fingers down
Ray's bare back, sending shivers down his spine. Ray loved those casual
touches, spontaneous contact, without any expectations or other motives.
It made him feel all quivery, just the simple expression of Fraser's
affection and happiness to have Ray there.  

 "Yeah, cool." Ray reached down and moved his bishop out. "You know, I
should probably let you win this one. You're falling behind." 

 "I am *not*." Ray was unable to keep back his grin at Fraser's indignant
tone. "I'm ahead of you by three games." 

 It was cute, Fraser's competitive streak. While you couldn't beat the
admission out of Fraser with a stick, the Mountie really hated to lose,
and Ray loved to tease him about it. "I thought I won those first two
games last night." 

 "No, Ray, you didn't." So much for chivalry. 

 But Ray didn't mind losing to Fraser. It was really about what Ray
expected - chess was a smart person's game, and Fraser was a walking
encyclopedia. But those times when Ray did win, he couldn't deny that it
felt pretty damn good. 

 Fraser was thinking intently, hunched over the table as though proximity
to the pieces would allow him a better chance of blocking Ray's gambit.
That was the one frustrating thing about playing with Fraser - he thought
forever before he did anything, and Ray got tired of sitting still and
waiting.  

 He slid in behind Fraser, his weight half on the back of the couch, half
on Fraser, and began rubbing the Mountie's shoulders while he thought.	

 Fraser was a glutton for back massages - he just melted under Ray's
fingers. Ray was pretty certain Fraser felt the same about back rubs as
Ray did about showers, and Ray loved the thought that he was able to do
this to Fraser. 

 It was just so hard to keep his hands off Fraser when they were alone
together, off duty. At work, it was different - neither he nor Fraser were
comfortable with public affection, and they both fell into a certain
mind-set when working a case, focusing on the business in front of them.
They were both good cops, and proud of that fact, and not even Fraser was
a good enough excuse for Ray to let himself do anything but his best when
working a case. 

 But now, neither of them were working. "C'mon, Fraser, you gonna take all
night?" 

 "Patience, Ray." It was the same every game they played, and they both
loved every minute of it. 

 Thanks to Fraser, they had only exchanged three more moves by the time
the food arrived. It was Fraser's turn to pay, so Ray snagged the
Mountie's hat off the counter as he went to the door. There was a mix of
Canadian and American bills in the band, and it took Ray a moment to
locate an appropriately sized one.  

 He had begun rummaging around in the bag before the door was completely
shut. "Here ya go, Dief." He tossed the paper-wrapped sub at the wolf, who
caught it in the air, then set it down carefully to begin unwrapping it
with his teeth. "Hey, Frase, you want your pickle?" 

 "No, Ray, you're welcome to it."  

 They ate on the couch, hunched over the chess board. Ray was fairly
certain Fraser was going to win this game too. Somehow, Fraser had gotten
him backed into a corner, and already had a rook and a knight up on him.
Ray had about decided that a new strategy was in order - distract the
Mountie. 

 While Fraser considered his next move, Ray slid the suspenders off his
shoulders and reached around him to begin unbuttoning the upper half of
Fraser's long underwear. "What are you doing, Ray?" 

 "Trying to throw off your game in a sneaky, underhanded fashion."  

 "I see. That hardly seems fair." 

 "At least I gave you warning." 

 "True enough." Fraser turned without warning, pushing Ray back against
the couch and kissing him, their naked chests touching.  

 Ray squirmed, but the Mountie was stronger and heavier than he was.
"Hey!" Fraser held him pinned, deepening the kiss. Ray relaxed as Fraser's
tongue probed his mouth, the tenderness of it sending a glowing, tingling
warmth all throughout Ray's body. "Nghn, Frase - mmm."	

 Fraser's hands were running up and down Ray's side, waking up the nerves
under Ray's skin. He held the kiss until Ray's pulse was racing and his
breathing was gaspy. "Jeez, you make me, mmm, so hot."	

 "Checkmate," Fraser murmured. 

 "What?" Ray tried to sit up, look at the board. "No, what?" 

 But Fraser continued to hold him down, nibbling at the sensitive skin
right over the pulse of Ray's neck. Ray managed to work a leg up between
Fraser's, rubbing his thigh against Fraser's groin. "Checkmate, Ray, I
won." He grabbed Ray's hand that was still half-heartedly trying to push
him back, squeezing it against his chest.  

 "You always win, Fraser." Ray wasn't complaining, just stating a fact. He
arched his back, rubbing up against Fraser as the Mountie found a
sensitive spot of flesh right beneath his ear. "Why is that?" 

 "In truth, there are multiple factors that contribute to the situation-" 

 "Shut up." Ray clamped his mouth over Fraser's, preventing the Mountie
from speaking further. He brushed his fingers back through Fraser's silky
hair. All over his body, Ray was beginning to feel the tingle arousal, but
their earlier fun in the shower had taken the edge off, so it was a
comfortable rather than desperate feeling. 

 They settled into kissing on the couch, leisurely exploring each other's
bodies with their hands. Ray never tired of the feel of Fraser's muscles
under his fingers, the sound of Fraser's heavy breathing in his ear, the
taste of Fraser's lips against his.  * * * * * 

 Fraser could feel Ray relaxing beneath him lulled into a momentary calm.
Momentary, Fraser was certain, because most of Ray's tempers were
fleeting.  

 The phone rang, and Fraser allowed Ray to roll off the couch to go answer
it. "Vecchio." Fraser came up behind Ray, pressing up against the
detective. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir." Ray leaned back, twisting his free hand
behind to pull Fraser closer. "When is that? Okay. Yes, sir." Hanging up
the phone, Ray dropped his head back onto Fraser's shoulder. "They need me
to testify at Cahill's trial." 

 "How is that going to work?" Fraser's mind had already jumped to consider
the problem. "You can't testify as Ray Vecchio - that would be illegal -
and you can't testify as Ray Kowalski." 

 "I dunno. I'm supposed to go in tomorrow to strategize or something...in
to see...." Ray was tense under Fraser's hands. "In to see Stella." 

 At the mention of his ex-wife, Ray just seemed to - crumple was the best
word Fraser could think of. It was sometimes easy to forget how much
Stella's absence still hurt Ray. The detective almost never spoke of her,
and the few times when Fraser had seen them together, it had been at work,
when Ray was more guarded, more careful of his feelings, more able to put
on a brave front. Just now, he'd been assaulted unexpectedly in his own
home. 

 "Would you like me to come with you?"	

 There was the briefest moment of hesitation, then Ray straightened. "Naw,
I'll be fine." But Fraser could hear in his voice that he was not.  * * *
* * 

 I'll be fine. It was the automatic answer that came to his lips. Years
living with Stella, and he'd been fine. Two years since the divorce, and
he was fine. Ray was always fine, because to not be fine simply at the
thought of being in a room under that cold, crushing gaze she'd started
turning on him since the divorce, well, that was pretty pathetic, wasn't
it? He was a man, and real men didn't feel...didn't feel like...well, just
mainly didn't feel. Or at least didn't show. 

 So he pulled away from Fraser, went back over to the couch. Idly, he
flipped on the TV, looking for something that would distract him from
thinking about Stella. He kept his eyes locked on the set, even as Fraser
came and sat down beside him. The Mountie's silence spoke volumes -
sometimes Ray thought he could read Fraser's silences better than he could
follow when Fraser was speaking. Fraser was going to make him talk. 

 And Fraser could. It was dangerous for Ray to lie to himself about so
basic a fact. Since almost the first time they'd met, Ray had found in
himself an overwhelming urge to confide in Fraser, to confess things to
him, to trust him. But they were walking on dangerous ground if Fraser
asked him what was wrong now. Ray just wasn't quite ready to tell him. 

 So he tried to distract the Mountie with TV. "Look, Fraser, a nature
special." An underwater shot on the Discovery channel. "Fish." He put his
hands together and moved them in a mimicry of fish swimming. "Cool, huh?" 

 "Barracuda."  

 Ray noticed the oversized jaws and teeth on the swimmers. "Those the kind
that can eat you?" 

 "One of the many. I knew a man once who was attacked by Barracuda....." 

 And Fraser was off. Ray felt pretty good about himself for having
distracted Fraser so handily. He could make it up to Fraser later, and
would. Right now, he just wanted to watch fish on the TV and listen to
Fraser's wildy bizarre tale of woe in Central America. 

 Stella. The last person he'd talked to - really talked to - about Stella
had been.... 

 But he wasn't going to think about that. He was just going to watch fish.
"An artificial foot? No kidding." 

 "Actually, Ray, there's a bit of an interesting story behind...."  

 Ray was not going to think about Stella; he definitely wasn't going to
think about Vecchio. He was going to listen and watch. Listen and watch. 

 "Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you tomorrow?" 

 "I already told you, no. I'm fine." Maybe this wasn't working as well as
Ray had thought. "Let's just drop it, okay?" 

 "As you wish." Ray closed his eyes; he knew that tone of Fraser's voice.
The 'it hurts that you don't talk to me but I'm not going to force you'
sound.	

 And there was no reason for Fraser to be hurt just because Ray was.
"Look, if you wanna come with me, that's fine, okay?" He put a hand on
Fraser's thigh. "Okay?" 

 Fraser placed his hand over Ray's. "Only if you want me too."	

 "An I do. There, case closed." And Fraser had gotten his way, as Fraser
always got his way. But since Fraser was usually right, maybe that was
only as it should be. 

 But now Ray was thinking about it - about Stella, about the divorce,
about those insane three weeks not long after the divorce, when he
and...and.... 

 Not for the first time, Ray had to wonder what temporary insanity had
prompted him to accept this assignment, to step into the life of Detective
Ray Vecchio. Had he actually thought it would help him get over - and
Fraser, he'd never counted on Fraser. Where would he be without Fraser and
why did Fraser have to be in love with.... 

 And maybe one of the things that hurt worst was the fact that Fraser
didn't know about himself and Vecchio. He'd mattered so little to that
damn Italian that Vecchio hadn't even told Fraser about him. "Bastard." 

 "What was that, Ray?" 

 "Nothing, forget it." 

 "It sounded like you said-" 

 "I wasn't talking to you." 

 "I see." That seemed a good enough explanation for Fraser.  

 But now Ray was on this train, and couldn't quite drag himself off it.
"You ever miss him, Fraser?" 

 "Who?" 

 "Vecchio." * * * * * 

 Fraser could sense danger. Ray was agitated about something, and Fraser
couldn't quite figure out a safe, but still truthful, answer to that
question. "Why?"  

 "Just wundrin. Uh, I mean, I know how you feel about him an all, and I
was just...um, wondering."  

 "Sometimes, yes." Although Fraser couldn't help a small pang of guilt at
how long it had been since the last time he'd actually thought about how
much he missed Ray Vecchio. He'd just been distracted lately, it had
seemed, and that didn't seem quite right. No matter how enthralling
Kowalski was, he still shouldn't be able to make Fraser stop thinking
about his lost Ray. 

 Fraser was expecting some sort of explosion, but Ray just nodded at his
statement. "Yeah, I figured." It wasn't the reaction Fraser was expecting;
a subdued Ray was of more concern than an angry Ray. Fraser started to
reach for Ray, but froze at Ray's next words. "Me too." 

 Fraser was certain he had somehow misunderstood. "You too? I'm not sure I
follow." 

 "It's not that tough, Fraser. Two words - which one didn't you
understand?"  

 "I understood both those words; both 'me' and 'too' are fairly commonly
used in the English language." This wasn't the first time - and probably
wouldn't be the last - in the course of their partnership that Ray had
thrown Fraser a verbal curve ball that left him reeling, but there was no
way Fraser was going to let his disorientation show. "Me: a
self-referential pronoun, and too: an adverb meaning also, in addition
to-" 

 "Fraser!" Now there was a hint of annoyance creeping into Ray's voice. "I
know you know what the words mean. I was just being...uh...." 

 "Facetious?" 

 Ray waved his hand in the air. "Yeah, that. You know. I
just...sometimes...." Ray trailed off, then got up from the couch. "Never
mind. This is stupid. I need a beer." 

 Once again, Fraser had lost control of the conversation. "Is there
something...bothering you?" It was a weak question, with an obvious
answer, but Fraser could think of nothing better at that moment. 

 "No, Fraser, I'm fine." Ray slammed the refrigerator door shut. "I mean,
why shouldn't I be?" 

 "I don't know, Ray." 

 Ray leaned against the refrigerator, his head against his arm. "No you
don't. Because I try to...you know, talk and reveal things, and
communicate, and...um, share, and you just sit there and give me the third
degree about it."  

 "I'm sorry." Fraser was at a loss; he really hadn't meant to upset Ray,
and certainly hadn't felt like he'd been asking an unreasonable question.
"And I really don't understand what you were trying to say." 

 "I'm just saying that...well, that I miss him too - you know, uh, trying
to emphasize with you." 

 "Empathize?" 

 "Yeah, that."	

 Fraser chose his next words carefully. "While I appreciate the sympathy,
and I think it is very heartwarming sentiment, I'm not sure you can, well
technically, empathize with missing someone you didn't know." 

 "What is it, are you slow today or something?" Ray turned around and set
the top of the beer bottle against the counter, knocking the cap off with
a quick chop of his hand. He took a long swallow. "I knew the guy."
Setting the bottle down, Ray leaned over to rest on his elbows on the
counter-top. "You really didn't know that?" 

 "No, no I didn't." Fraser was still trying to review the conversation,
find the point where it had gone from the trial to Vecchio and what was
really eating at Ray. "Were you...friends?" 

 "No, we were not friends." That didn't shock Fraser. He'd always assumed
Ray's hostility towards the absent detective was out of jealousy - it had
never occurred to him there might be other reasons. But if there were real
antagonism between the two before.... 

 Although Fraser, if forced to make a prediction, would have guessed the
two of them would get along well. "I'm a bit surprised at that. You two
actually have a great deal in common." 

 "Oh yeah." Ray brought the beer up to his lips, then stopped, giving it a
strangely hostile look. "We had a lot in common." * * * * * 

 Even before you. Ray set his beer aside, having lost his appetite for it
after the sudden flashback to the night where he'd met Vecchio. It had
been the same beer that night.	

 "How did you know each other?" The question almost made Ray laugh. An
innocent question, with a somewhat less innocent answer. But he'd started
this, although he still wasn't quite sure why - other than the fact that
it made him feel a bit queasy to keep secrets from Fraser. 

 And now that he'd started, Ray was pretty sure Fraser wouldn't let it
drop. He tried to knock his thoughts into coherent sentences, not quite
sure of what to do with his hands, unable to find a comfortable way to
stand. "We, uh, well, we met on a case."  

 Ray could still remember the details - the book wholesaler front company,
the months of work that had been almost completely invalidated by the
arrival of the detective from the 27th, how angry he'd been about Vecchio
waltzing in and breaking the case, how lonely he'd been, and how friendly
and attractive Vecchio had seemed. And more - 

 "I think you'd gotten shot or something." It felt a little weird, having
known this stuff about Fraser, heard the stories, and then to be assigned
to work with him. But he could remember, when he'd first laid eyes on
Fraser, how easy it had felt - how familiar. "It was like, uh, Ray and
Dief and I, back when I was with the 18th." 

 Ray couldn't look at Fraser; instead, he kept his eyes locked on his
hands clasped together on the counter. "We were - well, I was, um, it was
just after Stella left me. And I, uh, I was, well, you know." 

 "Lonely?" Fraser asked softly. There was an oddly strained tone to
Fraser's voice. 

 "Yeah, lonely. So he and I, we...we sorta-" 

 "Three weeks." 

 Ray's head shot up; he stared at Fraser. The Mountie looked strangely
pale. "How did you know that?"	

 Fraser shook his head. "That's not important right now. You were
sharing." 

 But Ray wasn't about to let it go that easily. "No, how did you know? Did
he tell you about me? You knew all along and you never-" 

 "No, Ray, it wasn't like that. I didn't realize...please, go on."  

 Prying information out of Fraser he didn't want to give was nearly
impossible, and not a battle Ray felt like fighting at the moment. "Yeah,
okay." He watched Fraser, though, as he spoke, trying to figure out what
was going on in the Mountie's brain. "Well, there's, uh, not a lot more to
tell. We were just - well you know - for three weeks. An then it ended." 

 Suddenly, painfully, it had just ended. Without explanation or warning.
Taking Ray's already exposed heart and tearing it into little pieces. "You
know, we just stopped. And that's about it." Except that he had been in
love, and Vecchio hadn't cared enough even to give him a day's warning
before walking out. There had been a couple fights - small ones - and then
Vecchio had just left. And it had hurt. 

 It still hurt.  

 It had sounded like such a good idea, this assignment - step out of his
life, get a fresh start somewhere else. It was only after he'd accepted it
that they told him who he would be replacing.  

 And now he felt like he was drowning in deep water without a net. "Whadda
you want me to say?" he demanded loudly. * * * * * 

 Fraser had no answer to that question, so many things were going through
his head at once. Ray. Raymond. Stanley Raymond Kowalski. Ray's lover -
Ray's victim. The man Fraser had been so jealous of.... 

 And now Ray was staring at him, waiting for him to answer, to say
something. But what could he say? He couldn't lie, but the truth didn't
seem very preferable. * * * * * 

 Fraser wasn't speaking, just looking at Ray with that inscrutable,
guarded look that meant Fraser had some piece of information he wasn't
ready to share. Ray could guess what was going on in Fraser's head -
shock, outrage, possibly even a little bit of jealousy. Fraser was in love
with Vecchio, and probably couldn't stand the thought that Ray had been
his lover, even for a little while. Or maybe he was upset that Ray had
never told him. For whatever reason, Fraser was not happy. 

 "You know what? Fuck you, Fraser." * * * * * 

 That broke Fraser's mental paralysis. Automatically, his mind began to
catalogue the problems at hand, organizing them in order of importance.
The immediate problem was that Ray was in pain, and that was what needed
to be dealt with first. The rest he would tackle once the first was put to
rest.  

 The detective had pushed away from the counter, and was stalking towards
his bedroom. "Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray. Ray." Fraser grabbed him by the arms.
"Ray."	

 Ray turned stiffly to face him. "What?" 

 "Wait." But what could Fraser say in twenty-five words or less? "Don't
go. This is obviously something we should talk about." 

 "Talk about? I've been talking about it. I don't got anything else to
say."  

 "Well, I do." Ray stopped trying to twist away from Fraser, looked up at
him, his clear eyes almost grey with worry. 

 Bringing his hands up, Ray broke Fraser's hold on his shoulders, but
simply went back to perch on the corner of the couch. "Yeah, well, you
usually have something to say about everything, I don't know why this
should be any different." 

 It was such a complete transformation - Ray had closed in on himself, all
the tension back, the fidgetiness. Gone was the easy, relaxed Ray that had
been wandering around the apartment before the phone call. Fraser wanted
so much to bring the other Ray back, but wasn't quite sure how to go about
doing that. 

 "I did know about you - about the two of you." 

 "What? And you never-" 

 "Ray." The detective fell sullenly silent again. "I didn't realize, until
tonight, that it was you. He never told me your last name, and I didn't
put it together until just now, when you mentioned that I had been shot." 

 Lying in the hospital bed, drugged out of his mind, a half-dream of Ray
Vecchio stroking his hair. "An you just let me go on and on like that when
you knew?" 

 "It seemed as though it was something you needed to say." Fraser realized
he was still standing, fairly tense himself, and told his muscles to relax
as he joined Ray on the couch - not close enough to be touching the
detective, but near enough that either of them could reach over and touch
the other.  

 "So what kinda things did he say about me?" Ray's face was locked tight,
his jaw muscles twitching - the look of someone expecting to get hit. 

 What could Fraser say? "He said a great many things about you. He said
you were lonely, and that he thought you were...attractive. Sweet." Ray
rolled his eyes at that one. "He said you were fun." 

 "Yeah, that all sounds great. C'mon, Frase, what else did he say?" 

 It finally sunk in on Fraser: this was the man he'd been jealous of, so
bitterly jealous of. All those dark emotions focused towards Ray, his
partner, friend, and sometimes lover, who would never cause anyone pain
out of spite, who had felt the worst fear of his life over the thought
that he had killed someone, who, after facing a man he had hated and
thought responsible for the death of his marriage, had simply let him go.
"It doesn't matter." 

 "Does to me. I wanna know."  

 Ray Vecchio had hurt Ray Kowalski, had treated him in a way that Fraser
knew Kowalski never would have treated Vecchio. And Fraser had been - had
been happy about it. The crime was almost unforgivable. "No, it doesn't
matter. Yes, he did say some negative things, but they weren't really
about you. They were the same things Ray said about everyone when he
started to...." 

 "Started to what? To get tired of them?" 

 Fraser was trying desperately to think of some way to soothe that hurt
look from Ray's face. "It wasn't you; it was him. Ray was...he had trouble
with relationships, holding on to them, making them work. It really wasn't
your fault." * * * * * 

 It was no surprise to Ray that Fraser was defending Vecchio. After all,
Vecchio was the man Fraser was in love with. "Not my fault? Well that's
great to hear." Fraser winced at the bitter sound of his voice. 

 "I'm sorry, Ray, but I can't change what happened in the past."  

 They were sitting at opposite ends of the couch, and Ray could almost see
the shadow of Vecchio sitting between them, pushing them apart. "I'm not
asking you to. But, you know, you don't have to take his side." 

 And there it was, on the table. Fraser was on Vecchio's side, and
probably always would be. Ray was simply the intruder, the disruption in
their lives: not Fraser's real partner any more than he'd been Vecchio's
real love.  

 "Oh, Ray." But Fraser didn't seem to be playing by the rules. He reached
over to Ray, lay a hand on Ray's knee, put his other hand under Ray's
chin, lifting it so Ray was looking him in the face. "I am not taking his
side. He hurt you, and that was wrong. I wouldn't argue with that, even if
I could." Now Fraser leaned in, kissed Ray lightly on the lips.  

 Ray was beginning to wonder if it wasn't actually physically impossible
to stay upset with Fraser. He brought his arms up to circle the Mountie's
neck loosely, pulling Fraser's head forward so he couldn't pull away from
the kiss. "Let's just go to bed," he breathed against Fraser's lips. "I'm
tired of talking about him." * * * * * 

 That sounded like a perfectly sound idea to Fraser. Conscientiously, he
gathered up the empty bottles and sandwich wrappers, tossing them in the
trash, then went to join Ray in the bedroom. The detective was already
sprawled on the bed, utterly naked, and it only took Fraser half a moment
to shed his clothes and join him. 

 Ray wrapped himself around Fraser, like a Venus flytrap closing in on its
prey at the slightest touch. Fraser tilted his head back as Ray kissed
down his throat. There was still tension in Ray, a desperation even
greater than his usual intensity, and Fraser was ready to do whatever he
could to make up for the wrongs he had done to Ray.  

 "So is that why you never told him how you felt - because you were afraid
of ending up like me?"	

 "I thought we were through talking about this." 

 "Fraser!" 

 His hands moved down Ray's back, trying to massage away the anger. "Yes,
Ray," he murmured in the detective's ear, blowing softly. "Yes, that was
the reason." He moved his hips, rubbing their cocks together, trying to
distract Ray from his train of thought - usually, not a difficult matter. 

 "You know I hated him for just leaving like that." Ray's stomach quivered
against Fraser's as the Mountie brushed his fingers across the back of
Ray's thigh. "And when you told me that stuff before, I hated him for
having you." 

 Fraser kissed Ray on the ear, the cheek, lightly brushed his lips over
Ray's closed eyes. "You have me, Ray. Right here, right now, you have me."


 "But what happens when-" 

 Fraser locked his mouth over Ray's, kissing away the question to which
neither of them truly wanted the answer. What happens when he comes back? 


 He rolled them over, so he was lying on top of Ray. Without releasing
Ray's mouth, he reached down to stroke Ray's inner thigh. Moaning against
Fraser's lips, Ray spread his legs to give Fraser easier access. Fraser
could feel Ray's heart pounding against his, Ray's lungs working for air,
Ray's hard cock pressed against his stomach - which was slick from their
combined sweat and pre-cum. 

 Fraser worked his other hand between them, stroking Ray's stomach and
covering his fingers in their fluids. Ray was writhing beneath him, making
soft encouraging noises as Fraser's hand brushed against his erection. He
kissed Fraser even harder, his arms locked in a vice-grip around Fraser's
shoulders. * * * * * 

 Ray knew Fraser knew the question he'd been about to ask. And Fraser had
stopped him - an answer in itself. Just like Ray had known all along, when
Vecchio came back, Fraser would leave him. Just like everyone left Ray.  

 But right now, Fraser was here where Ray needed him to be, touching Ray,
kissing Ray. It was no good to think about the future, no good to think
about how lost he would be without Fraser. Best to just concentrate on
now, on the weight of Fraser's body above him, the feel of Fraser's tongue
against his, the brush of Fraser's fingers on his leg. 

 Fraser broke the kiss, but only pulled back slightly: his lips were still
just barely brushing Ray's. Ray opened his eyes, looked up at the Mountie.
"Fraser?" 

 "Ray...I...," Fraser's hand had moved down, his finger gently circling
Ray's asshole. "I want to be inside you." 

 Ray shook his head, but was unable to turn from Fraser's intense blue
eyes. "Fraser, I don't...I mean, I...not since...." 

 Fraser's lips, gentle against his. "What's wrong?" His voice as soft as
his lips. 

 Ray had to wonder if Fraser had any idea the effect he had on Ray when he
spoke like that. It made the detective want to trust him, to tell him
everything, to hear Fraser tell him everything was fine. "I just, um, I've
only...with one, well, with him, and not since...." 

 Vecchio had been the first, the only man to touch Ray like that, to fuck
Ray, and now it just reminded Ray of Vecchio. "Painful memories, I guess.
No, I mean, not like that," he added quickly, seeing the concern in
Fraser's eyes. "It felt...well, fine," wonderful "but it just makes me
think of...reminded me...I don't know." 

 Light fingers running through his hair, Fraser's breath warm on his lips.
"It's all right, Ray. I understand." He kissed Ray deeply. "I don't want
to hurt you." 

 "I know, Fraser." Fraser didn't want to hurt Ray - didn't want to hurt
anyone. This was Fraser, his partner, who'd simply taken him into his
life, accepted him as a friend and an equal. Fraser, who'd thrown himself
into danger for Ray, risked himself on nothing but simple faith in Ray.
This was nothing like the blind, torrid affair with the captivating
detective whose life he now led. 

 So maybe it was crazy to keep comparing them. He'd loved Vecchio, but he
knew Fraser. Fraser didn't want to hurt him. Fraser wouldn't. "So fuck
me." 

 "I'm sorry, Ray?" 

 "You heard me." Ray trusted Fraser; Ray needed Fraser.  

 "Are you sure?" And maybe there were times when Fraser was a little too
concerned for his well being. He reached out blindly for the lotion he
kept by his bed, squirted a generous amount into his hand, smeared it all
over Fraser's cock. 

 "Yeah, I'm sure. Come on, Fraser."  

 The Mountie positioned himself, pushed slowly, carefully into Ray. This
was not at all what the detective wanted. He pushed back against Fraser,
till Fraser was buried deeply inside him. That seemed to be all the
invitation Fraser needed, and he started to thrust against Ray with long,
solid strokes. 

 Ray had been crazy to think this would remind him of Vecchio - the only
thoughts filling his head were those of Fraser: his strength, his
gentleness, his kindness, his brilliance - his perfection. 

 Ray came first, an explosive orgasm that left him exhausted and sated;
Fraser only required a few strokes more. When he opened his eyes, Fraser
was smiling down at him, and Ray felt a wash of heat at the look. He
pulled Fraser down next to him, kissing the Mountie soundly. 

 Neither of them felt the need to break the silence. Fraser pulled the
blankets up over them, and wrapped in each other's arms, they started to
drift towards sleep. "Night, Fraser," Ray mumbled. 

 "Good night, Ray." Fraser's voice seemed to be drifting to his ear from
far away. 

 "I love you, Fraser." 

 But Fraser's answer, if any, was obscured by the dark veil of slumber
that dragged Ray into unconsciousness.