(Green Card Part 2)	   Title: Green Card II
 
 Disclaimer: They aren't mine. They belong to someone else. But that's ok,
I get to play with them. 
 
 Pairing: Fraser and RayK 
 
 Mail: Caffre19@hotmail.com 
 
 
 Note: I thought that maybe this would end in a nice three part story, but
it didn't. Oh well. I got to put a little hurt their way, the upshot being
that I get to make it better again. You should really go read the other
three before trying this one, seeing as it's the last in a series. Thanks
to J. again, for the quick look over. I must be really starting to bug her
now. *You love it really* 
 
 
 
 Green Card II
 
 Noise. Lots and lots of noise. Loud noise. On automatic, I swing my arm
out and knock the alarm to the ground. 
 
 “Stupid bloody thing.”
 
 Well, that's what I try to say, but my tongue feels too big for my mouth
for the words to come out like that. I somehow manage to open my eyes. Oh
yeah, that's how they work. I'd forgotten what its like to get this drunk.
Thinking that somehow my glasses might help me see better, I fumble in the
dresser and, finally put them on, seeing for the first time the aspirin
and water by the bed. 
 
 After a quick breather to steady my stomach, I reach for the painkillers,
knowing that there's no way in hell I've got that much foresight to put
them there. I know I didn't put myself to bed. Last thing I remember about
last night was knocking into the table on my way to get my bike. Do not
ask me why.
 
 I can tell he's in the next room. If I listen carefully enough I can hear
breakfasty sounds coming through. 
 
 That's when I think that I notice a smell. A food smell. Not really
liking the idea of food right now, my stomach has me up and running for
the bathroom, catching a very brief view of Fraser in my kitchen. Suddenly
throwing up seems like the better option, cause I know I'm in for the 'we
can still be friends speech'. Maybe I can escape through the toilet, just
flush myself away.
 
 A few minutes later, after cleaning up I manage to get enough wit about
me to go out and face him.
 
 “Hey Frase.”
 
 Fraser sets down a plate of toast, a glass of water and an orange juice.
He smiles a little at me.
 
 “I didn't think you'd want a lot to eat just right now.”
 
 Said with just enough innocence to imply that he's never had a hangover
before. I sit down at the counter and pick up a piece, but the thought of
actually eating it is just too much right now, so I set it back down. 
 
 I rest my head on my hand, trying to hold myself up a bit. Then I feel
ready enough to look at him. 
 
 I squint at him, turning what I'm sure are seriously bloodshot eyes at
him.
 
 “Its too early for a lecture ok? I just…”
 
 Ok, not a sentence I want to finish, so I let him draw his own
conclusions about it, which he does with a slight frown.
 
 “Is that why you think I'm here? To 'lecture' you?”
 
 I reach for the water, but I'm still looking at him. “Isn't that what you
do?” All right, it was harsh, but he's standing there all Mountie like
even in his civilian clothes and I'm dying here, and not just from a
hangover.
 
 I look back at him then, and see that he's not doing the Mountie thing at
all. He looks wrinkled for Christ's sake! Then I see the dark circles
under his eyes and I know he's having about as much fun as I am and he's
had nothing to drink.
 
 “Sorry. I'm just…God. I don't know. Sorry.” 
 
 He comes round the counter and sits beside me, but he doesn't look at me,
he stares into the kitchen. We're both of us sitting like that for about
five minutes when he says, real quiet like, “You surprised me last night.”
 
 And before I an help myself (I've mentioned my mouth right? How it has a
mind of its own sometimes?) I say, “I surprised myself last night.”
 
 Now he turns to look at me and I feel my heart speed up. Oh, God, why
can't this man love me like I want him too? Is it so wrong to want to be
happy? 'Cause that's one thing I know for sure, that we'd be happy
together. Happier than either of us have been in a long time.
 
 “But you did mean it, didn't you?”
 
 I nod, not quite able to reply to that one. He nods back at me. “I…I,
well, I.” He takes a deep breath. “I feel the same Ray.” 
 
 “What?”
 
 He looks startled now, but he continues on. “I feel the same Ray. I do.”
 
 I'm puzzled now. I know I've mentioned what a bitch Hope is and now she's
back, kicking me in the teeth. I need clarification.
 
 “Do what Fraser?”
 
 Without even knowing it, my hand is on his arm, like I'm drowning and
he's my only hope of rescue. Jesus I'm such a loser, needing him this bad.
 
 He gently removes my hand from his arm, but he doesn't let go. “I love
you Ray. And not symbolically either.”
 
 “Since when? Since I told you last night? What is this, some kind of pity
thing? You feel sorry for poor Ray and decide to toss him a bone? Is that
it?”
 
 He looks a little lost and a part of me, that hateful spiteful part of me
that Fraser had whittled away to next to nothing is back with a vengeance.
 
 “No. I would never…”
 
 I cut him off. I can't help it. I want him and he's doing this to me
while I have the worse headache. Want, need, desperation and pain don't do
a lot for my character at all.
 
 “Never what huh? Never hurt me? Well, news flash! You did. You hurt me.
Constable Benton Fraser, here in Chicago on the trail of the killers of
his father, hurt someone. Me!”
 
 I'm silent again, and I can tell I've just become the worse goddamned
hypocrite you could find. I've hurt him, and I think to myself that if he
leaves now, the 'we can still be friends' speech goes out the window. He
stands and suddenly I'm terrified that he'll go. But I can't get my mouth
to say anything now. It has to be him next. I don't know why exactly but
if he doesn't say it right now, then we don't stand a chance, even as
friends. He stands, and for a second fear grips me. Fear that he'll go;
fear that I'll beg him to stay. But I can see he's not about to go. Maybe
he just feels better standing or something.
 
 “Ray, I've never been one to…” He pauses for a moment, trying to pick the
right word, although when he's with me that must take him twice as long
'cause he needs to pick one I'll understand. I can tell just from the
tight lines of his body that he's nervous. I think if he had the hat in
his hands he woulda torn it to shreds by now. He continues. “I've never
been comfortable displaying my feelings as such. I was taught quite young
that a man never shows emotion.” He smiles, and it's a sad little smile
and suddenly I feel like a complete and utter bastard. “My father once
sent me to my room for crying in public and he wouldn't let me out until I
stopped. That was the day we buried my mother.” He can't seem to look at
me, and I know it must've cost him a lot to tell me something like that.
“Then I lived with my grandparents. They loved me of course, but they
couldn't be what I wanted the most. A mother and father, my mother and
father. When she died I think he gave up a little, turned in instead of
out. Instead of to me.” He looks up at me, and there is that other bitch,
Fear. “I just never learned the right way to love someone. Never was told
it, never told it to anyone. Then when I thought I found it, I went mad I
think. Desperate, only it was wrong. It wasn't love. It was need.” 
 
 I can see he's near the brink, and surprising myself I get up and put my
arms around him. There's nothing sexual about it and I don't feel like I'm
taking advantage. Right at this point I'm his friend and I'm giving him
what he needs. Comfort. Which he must really need 'cause he really returns
the gesture. He's clinging to me like I'm his lifeline.
 
 Eventually he pulls away from me, and although he hasn't been crying, his
eyes are red a little.
 
 “I didn't mean to react the way I did last night. I really do care about
you. For a long time now, all I've thought about was what it would be like
to…to…” He waves about the room with a hand. “To just sit on the sofa with
you and watch some sporting event, or to eat a meal with you, or argue
about something trivial.”
 
 “We do those things anyway Fraser.”
 
 “Yes, I know, but not as a couple. Not as two people who love and know
they love one another.” He puts out his hand again and touches my face,
and I can't help but lean into it, having craved it for so long. “I want
what you want. I want someone I love to love me back, the proper way,
forever. To grow old with someone who cares about me. Whom I care about in
return.”
 
 I don't see him do it, but he's closer now, his other hand reaching up to
take my face in both hands, and he's looking at me so intense like, I'm
actually frightened to think that he could possibly love me as much as I
love him.
 
 I run my hand through his hair, my voice a whisper as I speak.
 
 “You mean it, don't you?”
 
 He kisses me as an answer and its soft at first, like he's a little
afraid himself, which is fine with me. Then it gets harder, his tongue
suddenly wanting into my mouth, and with a soft moan I let him. He moves
his hands sliding them down my shoulders to the small of my back pulling
me tighter against him and I love it. I can barely think straight I'm so
turned on. I'm like a kid who realises after the third or forth time that
I actually do like kissing. A lot.
 
 My hands are all over him and I can feel myself getting hard in response
to the way he's touching me and I'm touching him. He grinds his groin into
mine and I get such a buzz to see that he's just as turned on by this.
 
 Finally we pull apart, breathless and more than a little excited. His
eyes have that slightly glazed look that I know he must see in mine as
well.
 
 “You taste…very minty Ray.”
 
 I smile, knowing that he might not like what I'm about to say next.
 
 “Yeah, well, its one of the side effects of puking your guts up, you
know?”
 
 It doesn't seem to bother him cause he's still smiling and I guess that
he's probably tasted worse than me in his life, the way he licks things.
 
 “Always to the point Ray.” I know what he saying, but his eyes are
looking elsewhere. I somehow manage to pull myself away from that hungry
gaze to look at a clock. I've about two hours before I have to go to work
and there is no way in hell I'm just going to forget about this now. The
way my luck is, today would probably be the day I get killed or somethin'
in the line of duty.
 
 I grab hold of his hand and pull him into the bedroom where I turn months
of frustration into an attack on his mouth. He turns me about, and pushes
me onto the bed and begins running his hands up and down my chest,
focusing on one of my nipples. I've always been sensitive there and soon
he has me slowing my pace a little as I take time out to moan. 
 
 Then he pulls away slightly and he's pulling my t-shirt up and off my
head and before I know it he's using his mouth on it, licking me in swirls
with his tongue, with just the occasional graze of his teeth on flesh.
 
 “God! Ohh God, Ben, stop. Please stop.”
 
 He does, for about a second, and I suddenly get to see a different side
to this man. There's an evil grin on his face, one I'd expect more on my
own than on his. 
 
 He shuffles down my body slightly, stopping when he gets to my boxers,
which I'd slept in. With a quick pull their down and off, just tossed
aside. I can't help but grin back at him.
 
 “Oh yeah. Like that a lot.”
 
 I'm naked now, while he's fully dressed, but this is like some kinda
dream come true so I'm just goin' with it. He draws himself up my body
again, taking care to lean into my crotch, just enough to provide a lot of
pleasure on his way up.
 
 Suddenly, his mouth is back, one hand on my side, the other on my chest.
Well, I guess you can guess at how much I'm enjoying this. 
 
 His hand is on the move, the feel of his skin on mine, rough against the
smooth of my chest making me want to touch him in return. Next thing
though, his hand is on my cock and I gasp as he starts to move in a slow
motion up and down.
 
 My heart beat's way up and all thoughts of a hangover are gone. I've
thought about this so many times, but right now, all thought is gone. I'm
moaning, breathing heavy and desperate. I want to return what he's doing
to me, but I can't help but be greedy right now. I'm getting something I
never thought possible.
 
 Much too fast I'm coming in his hand. His hand. I can't believe it. Its
one of the most erotic thoughts I've ever had. 
 
 I'm still gasping as I pull him in for a needy, hungry kiss. 
 
 “Love you.”
 
 He smiles, and silently repeats it back while looking down at me. And I
know now that we're good to go. Suddenly I'm calculating just how long I
really need to shower and change for work, and come to the conclusion I
can be ready in ten minutes. Perfect. A little rushed but…
 
 “Perfect.”
 
 I press my hand over his cock, trapped inside the narrow confines of his
jeans, and yeah, it feels good, but not as good as I know it'll feel in my
hand. Or in my mouth, I think with a shiver, my dick typically reacting to
that thought.
 
 “What's perfect Ray?”
 
 I kiss him again.
 
 “You Ben. You're perfect.”
 
 We've somehow crossed over all the crap that life has thrown our way and
made it to this time and place. Our own little part of the world. This is
going to work. Work better than anything either of us has ever had before.
It has to, and knowing the man who just made me come all over myself, and
him, it will. We've both of us crossed over into new territory, and I know
for a fact that I'm not going anywhere. I don't think either of us are.
 
 
 The End