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“Say it again.”
Fraser stares at a point somewhere over Ray's left shoulder, unnaturally silent, a gorgeous flush slowly spreading over his face.
“Say it again,” Ray demands again, softly, insistently.
Fraser’s hand flies to his face, just like Ray knew it would, his thumbnail pressing so firmly against that spot on his eyebrow that sometimes Ray is surprised there’s any hair left there at all.
“Ray, I, well, that is to say, I certainly never meant to...” Fraser takes a huge gulp of air and now his eyes are darting around the room like someone desperately looking for a conveniently placed trapdoor. Ray can almost see him trying to organize his thoughts into something more coherent.
“I mean, I would never presume to make those types of decisions unilaterally, were I, I mean, were we to even consider that decision at some point in time–”
Ray’s mouth slides into a one-sided grin. Fraser’s brain starts spewing out the big vocabulary words (S.A.T. words, Stella used to call them, when she’d ask Ray to help her study) when he’s nervous, or when he’s being asked to actually express an emotion. And him and Fraser…well, they’ve discovered some pretty big emotions between them lately. They’ve both been less about the talking and more about the hot sex, though.
At least until now.
“Or at all,” Fraser continues, “as we’ve never specifically discussed any sort of future plans, or any particular level of commitment or…”
Ray tilts his head, waiting, trying to figure out if Ben’s over-stressed brain has finally run out of words.
He steps closer and rests one hand on Fraser’s bicep, the other on the side of Fraser’s pretty, flushed face. He leans in to press a soft kiss to Fraser’s lips.
“Say it again,” he whispers.
Ray hadn’t been whispering when he’d stormed into his apartment a few minutes earlier. Furious at his perp getting off on a technicality, he’d started ranting in the lobby of the court house, and continued during the entire drive home. Fraser had quietly listened, saying nothing, until they got home.
“Fucking goddamn lawyers,” Ray had spit out as he shoved his front door open. His hands were flailing wildly, looking like that inflatable dude at Smokey Joe’s Used Car lot down the street. “That was a perfectly good collar and you know it and I know it and that goddamn suit with soup for brains knows it too.” Ray had pointed accusingly at Fraser, as though Fraser had even considered arguing with him. As though he even had the time or space to get a word in edgewise.
Fraser had started to open his mouth to say something, probably something annoyingly play... placketing...placationing...comforting, but Ray had begun kicking the much abused leg of his own coffee table. “Fuck, Fraser, just…just fuck. Fuckety-fuck-fuck-fuck!”
And Fraser opened his mouth again and said something he probably didn’t mean to say out loud.
“Ray, if we ever have children, you’re going to have to learn to watch your language.”
Ray had stopped, mid-kick, mid-fuck, and turned to stare at Ben.
So here they were.
Ray’s functioning brain cells wonder if Ben just said that to make Ray stop kicking and yelling and flailing around at the fucking injustice of it all.
But Ben knew. He knew how much that meant to Ray, and he wouldn’t have said that lightly. Would he? Not the way Stella had always said it lightly. "Maybe one day, Ray. Not yet, Ray. Maybe soon, Ray." Until she'd finally said, "You need to let that go, Ray," just as lightly. Like it had never mattered to her at all.
“Say it again,” Ray whispers, this time against Ben’s lips.
“I–” Ben’s eyes are doing that darting thing again, looking for the escape hatch out of this conversation. Ray decides to take pity on him.
“Frase, you really think about us having kids?”
Ben manages to nod, still adorably hesitant, and Ray just wants to squeeze him. “I have, but obviously only if that’s something that you–”
Ray’s eyes light up. “Really?” he interrupts.
Ben nods again. He traces the knot of Ray's necktie, before letting his fingers travel up to Ray’s face, over the stubble, along his cheekbone, and up into what he likes to call Ray's beautifully experimental hairline.
“Yes. Really. I think you’d make a wonderful father.” Fraser takes another deep breath, and looks hesitant in a way that makes Ray a little nervous. “And I believe, well, I’d like to believe you could help me become an adequate parent, as my own childhood experience was not something I’d wish to pass on to a child of ours.” The words rushed out in that way Ben has, when the truth is just sitting there on his tongue, waiting, needing to be forced into being, given life. Kinda like rescue breathing.
And Ray has to shake his head a little, because he can’t quite believe they’re having this discussion, this way, right now. He’s suddenly picturing Fraser holding a couple little toddlers, one in each strong arm, and all his anger and frustration with the legal system is completely forgotten.
He grins at Ben and leans in for one more kiss. “I guess I’d better start watching my damn, I mean, my darn language, then, huh?” He tugs at Ben’s hand and leads him toward the bedroom.
Realizing there’s one more thing he needs to take care of, Ray spins gracefully around on his heel. “And you would be a fucking amazing father, Frase. Stop with the ‘adequate’ bullshit.”
Fraser’s grateful, loving, tolerant, smile is everything. “Thank you, Ray. I will certainly endeavor to do my, um," he clears his throat, "my fucking best.”