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The Bullpen
"Okay, so this is what we've got so far." Ray scoots his chair close to his desk, so that Fraser can see the map that's spread out on top.
Fraser is right behind him, one hand on the back of Ray's chair, and one hand down on the upper right corner of the map, bracing his weight. Ray can smell that oil that Fraser uses on his Sam Brown. Ray rubs his nose but the smell doesn't go away.
The bullpen is a zoo, as usual – there are phones ringing and people are talking and there's an uncooperative perp being pulled through the doors. But he and Fraser have a little island of strategy set up and they tune everyone and everything else out.
"This is the layout of the area around the warehouse. We'll have guys stationed here at the mouth of this alley," Ray explains, trailing his fingertip across the paper as he talks. "Two guys on the roof here, and the rest of us inside."
Fraser leans over to look at the far left side of the map. Ray goes still as red serge brushes against his shoulder. "And the access to the waterfront?"
Ray tips his head back to look up at Fraser. The back of his head rubs against Fraser at about stomach-level. "Yeah, I thought of that." If he didn't know better, Ray would think that Fraser was deliberately pushing into his touch, but that's impossible.
The first sound out of Ray's throat is a kind of squeak and he clears his throat and starts again. "We're covered. The CPMU is on board."
Fraser looks at him and his mouth lifts up on one side. "This is well planned out, Ray. Good job."
Ray gets a rush from the approval in Fraser's voice. Like when he talks somebody into sparring with him at the gym and he comes out of it without a scratch. "Uh…well, that's me, Mr. Strategy."
"So you have relinquished the title of Mr. Instinct, then?"
Ray returns Fraser's grin and that weird tension that had been banking against his insides slides away. "I am a man of many titles, Fraser. I thought you knew that by now."
The Grocery Store
Ray looks sourly at the madness in front of him. Being here at 5 o'clock on a Friday is just plain crazy. "Fraser? We gotta do this? Can't we just order in?"
"I want to show you what I've learned. Indulge me."
"You've only had two lessons, Fraser." Ray thinks he might sound a little whiny, but he hates going to the store. "French cooking is kinda complicated, isn't it?"
Fraser smiles at him, one of the lopsided, dorky ones that mean Fraser's in his element and Ray's resistance starts to melt. "You need to have more trust in me, Ray. Have I ever let you down?"
Pushing their cart in a wide circle around a mother and a kid having a meltdown, Ray mutters under his breath, "I'd rather have pizza." Fraser happily ignores him, striding off and leaving Ray to struggle to get past a slow moving senior citizen.
As usual, when he's out in public with Fraser, Ray sees the staring and the drooling. When they first became partners, it annoyed Ray, because, hey - what was he, chicken liver? But gradually it started to piss him off. It was disrespectful, for one thing. And for another…well, whatever.
Once he gets to Fraser, Ray has to stare down two college-age chicks that look like they want to double team him and one guy in a tweedy jacket, who smiles knowingly at Ray.
Suddenly, Ray's face is hot and fuck it all, this is just too much. "You got a problem?" Ray asks the guy, being real quiet about it. The guy quits smiling and backs away with his hands up. Ray watches him until he disappears down past the French bread bins and when he turns back around, Fraser is watching him, his blue eyes full of concern.
"Is everything all right, Ray?"
His face is still hot; in fact, Ray is hot all over. "Yeah, buddy, everything's fine."
The Vet
The chick at the front desk shows him to the room where Fraser is. He's standing almost at attention, with his hands behind his back. Fraser's trying to keep it together but Ray can see that just under the surface, he's freaking.
"Hey," Ray says softly as he shuts the door. "What happened? How is he?"
"We were leaving the Consulate for a walk. There was a bakery truck going by and, well, you can guess the rest." Fraser's got his hat on the one chair in the room and it looks like he's been running his fingers through his hair. It has to be that because Fraser never gets hat-hair but he's got it now.
"Damn. Where is Dief now?"
Fraser leans back against the wall, looking down at the floor. "They've taken him to surgery. The impact almost certainly broke his right forelimb. The doctor isn't too worried about that."
"Well, that's good. He's gonna be okay, then."
Fraser draws in a deep breath, like he hasn't taken one in a while and rubs his forehead. "But if his hip is broken, the damage could be permanent. Diefenbaker's breed is prone to hip dysplasia. While he hasn't had any problems to date, a serious injury to…"
Ray puts his hand on Fraser's shoulder and squeezes it. "Now, let's not go there yet. He has a broken leg. Until the doc tells us more, let's just go with that. "
Ray kneads the tense muscles under his hand. He can feel the heat of Fraser's skin through the thin layer of blue plaid flannel. Ray doesn't touch Fraser as much as he used to and it gives Ray a buzz to be this close to him, closer than he's dared in a while.
Fraser's head comes up. Ray thinks he looks grateful because Fraser's eyes don't look so wounded. They are dark and steady. "Thank you for coming, Ray."
Fraser's got this voice that gets under his skin sometimes, especially when it's low and quiet, like it sometimes gets when they're alone. Ray gives Fraser's shoulder a pat, then takes his hand away, trying not to act like he just got burned. "And where the hell else would I be?" Ray says with a looseness that he doesn't really feel.
When the doctor comes out to tell them that Dief is going to be just fine, Fraser nods and thanks him. It's all very dignified, very Canadian stiff upper lip. When they go back to see Dief, Fraser touches Dief's head with utter gentleness and Ray watches them both, his throat tight.
The GTO
They are both breathing hard when they get back to the car. Ray jams the key in the ignition and guns the motor with an unnecessarily heavy foot. He looks straight ahead, through the windshield, at CSU still doing their stuff and at the TV cameras and the reporters still doing their best to contaminate the crime scene.
From the corner of his eye, Ray sees Fraser open his mouth to talk. Ray holds up his hand. "No. Do not speak." He has a death grip on the steering wheel but if it were possible, his hands would be around Fraser's neck.
"Ray."
He's pissed, so fucking pissed. He's even madder than he was that day at the waterfront, when he lost it and punched Fraser in the mouth. Ray swore to himself that no matter what happened, he would never do that again, but shit, he wants to do it. He wants to let loose on somebody and Fraser is right here.
It scares him, this snarl of fury and fear and helplessness in his chest. The only thing that even comes close is the insanity of his last couple of years with Stella and that scares him more than anything.
Ray throws the GTO into gear and they speed out of the parking lot with gravel flying and dust rising. Ray is still shaking, shaking all over, and if he could, if he had the guts, he'd stop the car. He'd get out and yank Fraser out of the passenger side onto the sidewalk and drive off. He'd leave and he'd never look back. So close this time, so close…
He drives toward the Consulate from memory, his mind projecting the playback from the near disaster. Fraser and some crack-headed kid with a loaded gun; Fraser moving closer to the kid, calling him "son" and asking him to think about his future; and Ray, just barely managing to hold crack-head number 2 down on the ground and unable to get a clean shot.
Ray's eyes feel hot and gritty, from the sun and the dirt and other stuff that Ray doesn't even want to know about. He glances over at Fraser, at his face, dirty and sweat-streaked, at the rip in the left shoulder of the red serge where the bullet just missed him and Ray shakes his head.
"What the fuck's the matter with you?" Ray asks him, his voice fighting to get past the ball of emotion stuck in his throat. "Haven't we been over this before? When are you gonna get that you don't have a cape, Fraser? You're not fucking Superman!"
Fraser doesn't look at him. He's got that stubborn set to his jaw and it makes Ray's grip on his control slip just a little more. "I know only one way to do my job, Ray."
"Yeah, with your head up your ass."
Fraser shifts suddenly, half turning toward Ray on the seat. "What exactly are you going on about? I've seen you place yourself in danger any number of times. We're police officers. That's what we do."
Ray brings the car to a screeching halt at a red light and closes his eyes. "Shut up," Ray says and it's hard to get out because he can't take a breath. "Just shut up."
The Consulate
Turnbull is at the front desk, picking through a pile of dark socks and studying each one under a lamp.
Ray doesn't even ask.
"Hey, Turnbull, is Fraser in his office?"
Turnbull starts to stand and Ray waves him down again. "Good afternoon, Detective, and no, Constable Fraser is not in his office. He's in conference with Inspector Thatcher."
Ray looks at the closed door and hears Thatcher's laughter. He clamps down a little harder on his toothpick. "Conference, huh?"
"Yes, sir. The Consulate is hosting a delegation from The Yukon, and of course, Constable Fraser will need to work closely with Inspector Thatcher on the preparations."
Turnbull goes back to what he was doing. He holds up a sock to the light, studies it and puts it in one of four piles sitting to one side of the desk.
"Yeah, right," Ray says, watching Turnbull go through another couple of socks before shaking his head. "I'm gonna wait for Fraser in his office, okay?"
"Yes, Detective. That would be an excellent idea."
The door to Fraser's office is open and Ray wakes Dief when he walks in.
"Hey, wolf," Ray says softly when Dief pads over to him. He gives Dief's head a good pat and then, bends down to look him in the eye. "Beat it for a while, all right? Fraser and me have stuff to talk over." Dief whines a little, but trots out.
Ray shuts the door after him. He ditches the toothpick in the trash and looks around, his stomach already tight and nervous. He's never been good at this kind of thing. Just ask Stella.
I can do this, Ray tells himself, bouncing on the balls of his feet. I can definitely do this.
The door opens and Ray jumps out of the way. Fraser walks in, looking surprised and not all that happy to see him. Well, fuck.
"Ray? Did we have an appointment?" Fraser asks as he closes the door.
Irritation burns through Ray's insides and all his good intentions start to go up in smoke. "What, I gotta have an appointment to see you now?"
"That's not what I meant…"
"Well, what did you mean?"
"I only meant that…" Fraser did his eyebrow-comb thing and Ray feels a weird ache in his chest. "Honestly, Ray, I can't seem to say more than three words to you without making you angry."
Ray blows out all the air he's got. It doesn't help relax him much. It helps even less when Fraser lifts his head and looks at him. Sometimes, those serious blue eyes make Ray feel one of those butterflies in a frame – pinned back and splayed out.
"I know. That's why I'm here." Ray wets his lips and wonders if anyone ever died from this. "Fraser, look, about that thing that happened – with the kid and you nearly getting shot? I know things have been kinda fucked up since then, so I – uh, well, I said stuff and… I didn't mean it. You know that my mouth outruns my brain on a regular basis."
"Ray, this isn't necessary."
"Yes, yes, it is because I don't want you to think that I doubt your abilities as a cop. Your methods, maybe, but not your abilities. And things just feel really off lately and I hate that."
"Ray."
"You're a good partner and a good cop. One of the best I've ever known." Ray's face is on fire but Fraser is just watching him, with no judgment, just like always. Ray is really grateful for that but the whole conversation makes him frown. "I really wanted to say that without sounding like a girl, but I didn't make it, did I?"
Fraser grins at him, the grin that makes his skin crinkle at the corners of his eyes and Ray can almost hear the tumblers click and the wheels turn as everything gets normal again.
And when has it ever been normal between him and Fraser, Ray wonders. Because just about from the minute they met, any chance Ray had at normal went up in smoke.
Normal, which in Ray's case means that his pulse is going crazy all of a sudden and his blood is roaring like Niagara Falls in his ears. Normal, because Ray's thinking how Fraser looks fucking beautiful in the red serge. Normal, because Ray's just figured out that he's screwed in about a hundred different ways.
"You did just fine, Ray. And might I say that I feel the same…"
Fraser's still talking but Ray's not listening anymore. Ray watches Fraser's mouth and there's a ton of something surging through his veins that feels like adrenaline. Something hot and thick that makes him feel lit up from the inside. Whatever it is, it makes Ray shove Fraser against the door and kiss him.
Ray's got his closed mouth pressed to Fraser's closed mouth and neither one of them are breathing. But Ray's eyes are closed and it's awkward and desperate and he can't believe he's doing this. He's holding onto Fraser's biceps and leaning into his warm, tall body and Ray gets so hard so fast the room starts to spin. He pushes, just barely, into Fraser's hip and Fraser shudders against him.
And that's Ray's wake-up call. Ray jerks back and away from Fraser, and they blink at each other. Ray tries to find something in Fraser's eyes besides shock but he doesn't and oh, fuck, he's gotta get out of here.
"Fraser," Ray says thickly, wanting to run, wanting to just fucking move but he can't, not now. Fraser's his best friend. Ray has to own up to what he's done. "This was -- God, I'm really, really sorry. I shouldn't have – "
"Ray, please."
Ray gets his feet moving because he doesn't want to hear the rest. Ray, please. Don't trouble yourself. I understand. Or maybe even, Ray, please. Get away from me.
"Uh – I'm – I'm gonna go now. See ya."
He doesn't remember getting out of the room or the Consulate or getting back in the GTO. But he does and manages to get back to the 2-7 without wrapping the car around a telephone pole. Ray goes through the motions of an afternoon of work, completely numb to everything but the dread in the pit of his stomach.
Ray's Apartment
Ray throws his keys onto the kitchen bar and keeps walking, in the dark, until he reaches the sofa. He tosses his body over the back and onto the cushions and just lies there. Breathing. Aching. Waiting for the other granny boot to drop.
There's not a chance in hell that Fraser is going to let this alone. Ray knows this. He's going to want to talk about it, which has never been one of Ray's strong suits. Besides, what the hell was he going to tell Fraser?
You must have dreamed it. Me? Kiss you? Get outta here!
It's an American custom. After a disagreement, we kiss. No biggie.
No, Fraser, I'm not gay, I just want to fuck you through the floor.
Ray groans and throws one arm over his eyes. He's not gay. For the most part. Well, mostly not. He loves women; women really work for him and if he had to make a choice, tits and pussy are really his thing. But Ray's always known he had an attraction to men, ever since his first semester in junior high, when he used to go to football games just to see Tommy Lenski's ass in those tight pants.
But the next semester, he met Stella and for years, she was his life. He'd never had a chance, or really a desire to act on those other urges. Not until Fraser. Oh, Jesus, Fraser --
Someone starts knocking on the door and Ray automatically starts to get up, and then he freezes. The knocking doesn't stop and then, a familiar voice comes through the door.
"Ray, I know you're there. The GTO is in the parking lot."
Ray sits up and puts his head in his hands.
"As you know, Ray, I once spent 72 hours in the carcass of a caribou and this hallway is infinitely more hospitable. A quick run down to the market for supplies and I'm confident I can wait you out…"
"Fuck!" Ray stalks over to the door, roughly flipping on lights as he goes. He yanks the door open and pulls Fraser inside by the sleeve of his white Henley.
"Ah, Ray, you're home."
Ray looks at Fraser, looks at his lopsided grin and wonders how he never kissed Fraser before today. How can somebody be gorgeous and dorky at the same time and better yet, why does that even appeal to him?
But it does, it really fucking does. And now that the cat is out of the bag, so to speak, everything that Ray's been keeping buried is out there on the surface. Ray's heart is pounding and he's straddling that line between turned on and nauseated.
Ray backpedals into the kitchen. He and Fraser are standing too close. Ray can't take a breath. "Yes, I'm home, Fraser, as you must know, since you staked out my building."
Fraser almost smiles but it falls short. "No, no stakeout. I was merely waiting for a friend."
"Are we? Still friends, I mean?" Ray blurts out, hating the way his voice sounds, sort of high and nervous.
"Of course, we are," Fraser says, and from the way he straightens up, Ray can tell that Fraser's offended. "I'm surprised that you could doubt that."
"I'll bet" Ray says, under his breath, shoving his hands into his pockets and then, pulling them back out again. It was hard to know what to do with his hands, when all he wanted to do was get them on Fraser.
"Ray, I think for the sake of our friendship, we should discuss what happened at the Consulate today."
Ray closes his eyes for a couple of seconds. Damn, nothing is going my way today. "I said I was sorry, and I meant it. I swear, Fraser, it will never happen again. It was just one of those – those things."
"One of what things?"
He knows Fraser knows what he's talking about. "You know what I'm talking about - a thing that happens that doesn't usually happen. A – a -- apparition."
Fraser tilts his head at him. "An aberration?"
Ray glares. "Whatever. But it won't happen again, you have my word on that."
"I see. And I believe you. It's only that, well, I've been doing some thinking this afternoon and – that is --" Fraser turns his head to the side and licks the corner of his mouth and a longing burns through Ray, scorching him from the inside out.
"Don't," Ray says roughly, and Fraser looks at him, not understanding. It pisses Ray off, that he's letting this happen, that Fraser can look like that and not have a clue that Ray is coming apart.
"What?"
He looks at the spot that Fraser's tongue left wet and glistening. It's not that Ray wants to taste it – he needs to taste it.
He draws in a breath that shudders. "Fraser, you gotta get out of here." His voice is hoarse, strained and it makes Fraser's eyes go dark, hot, hungry. Ray recognizes it – it's the way he's been looking at Fraser from day one.
"Ray." Fraser says his name, and just like that, all Ray's promises go down the drain. Two good strides separate them and Ray takes them like they are the last steps to a finish line.
His forward momentum has him slamming Fraser back against the refrigerator and Ray's kissing Fraser again. Only this time, Ray does it right, moving his lips on Fraser's and sliding his tongue into Fraser's mouth, tasting him just like Ray's always wanted to, slow and deliberate, like he's got all the time in the world, like this is Ray's only chance.
And Fraser, oh, God, Fraser has his arms around him, his hands are sliding under Ray's tee shirt, Fraser's mouth is open and groaning into Ray's. Ray grabs onto Fraser's hips and pushes his own forward, and there's nothing hesitant about it this time.
Ray moves against Fraser once twice, this time with purpose and need. He feels the pretty impressive bulge of Fraser's cock through the barrier of their jeans and it makes Ray burn with the urge to get his hands on it, to suck it into his mouth, to rub his own cock against it until they come all over each other. Fraser, all messy and wrecked and naked – how many nights has that image kept him awake?
Fraser makes a noise, like a sigh, and he grabs Ray's face with both hands, and there's more tongue and wetness and heat, and Ray is pretty sure he's about to come, right there in the kitchen. Christ, it feels amazing - this is Fraser, I'm kissing Fraser he keeps thinking – and Ray is shaking and panting and before he embarrasses himself, Ray pulls back.
"Fuck," Ray says, and it kinda surprises him, the way it comes out, all in a rush. He and Fraser have their foreheads pressed together, and Ray closes his eyes against the intensity of what he's feeling. "Fraser, we gotta stop."
Fraser still has his hands on Ray's face and he rubs his thumbs gently against Ray's skin. "Why," he whispers almost against Ray's lips, "in Heaven's name would we do that?"
Ray smiles a little and lifts his head. "Because I'm gonna come in about three seconds if we don't."
Fraser grins and lets his hands slide down to Ray's shoulders. "Ah. We wouldn't want that."
Ray laughs, but it's not exactly a funny kind of laugh. No, it's not a funny laugh at all. "You know, Fraser, you don't sound very convincing." He stands still while Fraser presses his face into Ray's neck, sniffing and flicking his tongue, sending goose bumps up and down Ray's entire body.
"Hmmm?"
Every touch, every brush of skin goes right to Ray's dick and he's just barely holding it together. Fraser's hair is unbelievably soft when it skims over Ray's cheek. It makes Ray shiver and he brings his forehead down on Fraser's shoulder while Fraser has his fun.
One of Fraser's hands slides down between them, cupping Ray's dick and balls, and despite what Ray said about stopping, he thrusts into that firm hold. "I – think you'd -- Jesus -- you'd like me to come – in my pants like some – yeah, oh, fuck, that feels good – like some damned teenager."
"I must confess, Ray. I would like that very much." Fraser not talking so much as he's fondling him with syllables and when Fraser's teeth sink into his neck, Ray yanks Fraser hard against him and comes and comes and comes.
The Break Room
Ray is stirring Coffeemate into his coffee when he sees a flash of red in the corner of his eye. He looks up as Fraser enters the room. His face is flushed and a little sweaty. It's a good look on him.
"Fraser, glad you could join us," Ray says in his best, most casual voice. "You're running a little late today, aren't you?"
Ray watches Fraser nod at the pair of secretaries sharing a bag of pretzels at one of the tables. When he finally looks at Ray, he's wearing a tight smile that nearly makes Ray lose it.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Fraser asks out of one side of his mouth, soft enough that only Ray can hear him.
"How about a coffee, buddy?" Ray reaches for a cup and starts to fill it before Fraser answers. "I was going to but you looked like you needed the rest," Ray says under his breath, handing Fraser the paper cup and leaning his hip against the counter. "I mean, I've heard about people passing out after they…"
"Ray."
He sips his coffee as well as he can while on the receiving end of a Canadian death glare. And when the secretaries leave the room, Fraser leans in closer. He smells like soap and Ray's dick twitches at the image of a wet and pissed off Fraser in his shower.
Ray gives Fraser a slow smile. He has a nice post-orgasm buzz going and he wants to draw it out as long as possible. "You smell nice," Ray says quietly, and watches the tension on Fraser's face start to melt.
"Don't try and charm me, Ray. We're never doing -- that again."
"Which part? Going to my apartment at lunch time or – the other thing?" Ray waggles his eyebrows at Fraser.
He can see Fraser fight it – Fraser's supposed to be the serious one in this thing they've got going – but after a little while, he smiles back at Ray and Ray's heart does a flip worthy of the Olympic Games. Christ, but Fraser is beautiful.
Christ, but Ray is lucky.
"You know what I mean."
There's a whole world going on beyond the walls of the break room, but Ray doesn't want to be anywhere else, but here, with Fraser.
"I know what you mean." Ray pauses, setting his coffee down on the counter and letting his fingers graze quickly over Fraser's sleeve. "You gotta date for lunch tomorrow?"
Fraser laughs out loud. He does more of that than he used to and Ray likes to think he's the reason. "As a matter of fact," Fraser says, with a waggle of his eyebrows, "I do."