Disclaimers: See, Alliance never lets them get laid. So out ofpurely altruistic concern for the well being of my favoritecharacters, I've taken it upon myself to, uhm, get 'em a little.

Pairing: BF/RK

Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for boys at play.

Spoilers: some major, some minor for Pilot, VS/LG, BDtH,Eclipse, MotB, tLM.

Notes: Only one AU element here -- Fraser gets a newapartment. Thanks to Aislinn and Steph for early beta, to Gezebelfor dead-on crit, handholding, and support, and to Audra forexpert clean up and reassurance. Feedback shamelessly groveledfor: rowan_fairchild@hotmail.com

Moving by Rowan F.

Fraser answered the door on the first ring. He was alreadywaiting in the hall, dressed as casually as Ray had ever seen himin a light blue flannel shirt and faded jeans. Of course, hestill managed to look impeccably groomed -- he *was* Fraser,after all.

"Hello Ray! Thank you so much for helping me out,I really do appreciate it."

Fraser's greeting smile as hewaved Ray into the Consulate foyer was so sunny that Ray couldn'thelp answering with a big, goofy grin of his own. Fraser was sofantastically nerdy that way. Unlike most of the guys Ray'd everhung out with, Fraser never acted like he was too cool, or bored,or whatever, to care about stuff. Nope, when Fraser wasenthusiastic about something, it was written all over his face --even if that something was just some skinny Chicago cop showingup at his door to help him move into a crappy little apartment ina lousy neighborhood in a city he didn't even want to be livingin.

"Hey buddy, not a problem. You need any help withpacking or anything?"

"Oh, no, I'm all done. My thingsare over there by the stairs. I just have to get Diefenbaker'sfood, won't be a moment," Fraser said, disappearing down thehallway towards the Consulate kitchen.

Ray decided to startloading Fraser's belongings into the GTO, and walked over to thesmall lineup of items neatly stacked against the wall. He shookhis head in amazement. There were a couple of duffel bags, agarment bag, a bedroll, and two boxes -- one filled with books.That was it. Period. Finito. //Compared to him, I live likegoddamned royalty, like Little Lord Whatsisname.//

"You know, helping you move shouldn't even count as a favor," Raysaid with a short laugh as Fraser emerged from the back carryinga large, mostly full, sack of kibble and Dief's stainless steelfood dish.

"Does that mean I don't have to bribe you withpineapple pizza after all?"

"Well, you don't *have*to," Ray said, shouldering one duffel bag and reaching forthe carton of books. "But if you're gonna go and get allCanadian and polite, and insist on it..."

"Oh, I do, Ray. I do insist."

Dief wuffled andemerged from beneath Turnbull's desk, stretching lazily.

"Guess he insists too."

"Hmm. Somehow I'm notentirely convinced that his agreement is unselfishlymotivated," Fraser said, eyeing the wolf speculatively.

Raytried to suppress a grin. The true nature of the relationshipbetween the two displaced Canadians was no less puzzling to himnow than it had ever been, but Ray had come to feel almostenvious of Dief's ability to push Fraser's buttons. //Wish hewould be that unguarded with me.// Ray gave his head a littleclearing shake. Where the hell had that come from? He glancedover at Fraser, who was still standing there having some kind ofsilent conversation with the suspiciously deaf wolf. //God,Kowalski, jealous of Diefenbaker?// Well, it was true though,wasn't it? Of course it wasn't just the wolf. Ray couldn't helpwondering -- couldn't stop wondering was more like it -- ifFraser had been more open before Vecchio had left for hisundercover gig in Vegas. Ray shook his head again. //More *open*?I gotta quit reading Frannie's Cosmo in the can.//

***************

Fraser kept waiting for the inevitable comment about thelocation of his new apartment. Ray Vecchio, he knew, would haveargued long and strong against getting another place in the sameneighborhood as his previous building on West Racine. In fact,Ray Vecchio had complained about his old apartment for the entiretwo years he'd lived there, every single time he visited. Butthus far, Ray Kowalski had failed to utter a single criticalremark. He was just helping out, whistling a tune that playedfrequently on the radio of the GTO, and unloading Fraser'sbelongings from the trunk.

"Where to, Frase?"

"Second floor, Ray. It's apartment 2B."

"Why isthat not surprising, my bookish friend?" Ray said,chuckling, as he used his back and shoulders to push open thefront door of the building, his long arms wound around the cartonof books. "2B or not 2B, that is the question..."

Fraser stood rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the sight ofRay in his worn-thin black t-shirt, black jeans and boots -- andthat endearingly unruly blonde hair -- bracing open the door tothis crumbling inner-city Chicago tenement and ... spoutingHamlet. How did Ray always know how to be so perfect? Socharming, and funny, and unexpectedly ... perfect? Fraser felt asmile begin to twitch. He was unaccountably glad, suddenly, thathe'd asked Ray to help him move, even though there really wasn'tthat much to do. He was gladder still that Ray would be stayingfor dinner.

These moments were happening more and morefrequently. Moments where time seemed to draw briefly still, heldlike a snapshot Fraser could study and store carefully away inhis memory. What was funny, or perhaps ironic, was how the eventstriggering these small, conscious flares would probably appear tobe utterly mundane to most people. In his life, however, theywere rare, few, and jealously treasured. And then he wished, witha longing that surprised him, that his experience of happinesswould not forever be so fleeting as a shared joke and a pizzadinner. That it could last. That Ray might never leave at all.

"Pitter patter, B. buddy! This box is getting heavy,"Ray said, startling Fraser into moving forward again. "Whatare all these, your dad's journals? Guess he was as talkative asyou are," Ray added, hefting the carton of books andshooting Fraser a wink as he passed through the door into thedark hallway.

***************

Ray couldn't erase the image from his mind. The expression onFraser's face as he stood on the cracked sidewalk in front of thebuilding at first made Ray wonder if he'd gotten the Shakespearething wrong. Then he'd noticed the subtle curve of the mouth thatindicated the Fraser-amused-half-smile, and he realized thatFraser was staring because he'd gotten it *right*. Because he'dthought of it at all. And Ray was beginning to recognize the warmand squishy feelings that seemed to accompany any evidence thathe'd made his friend happy.

//God, not this again.// But it hadbeen sneaking up on him for weeks now, maybe even longer, sothere wasn't much use in pretending he didn't know. It was allbecause of that damned smile. That beautiful, brilliant,all-too-rare smile of Fraser's that Ray had become completelyinfatuated with. And he knew now that he'd do just about anythingto make it happen -- stand on his head, knock himself out, makecorny jokes about Shakespeare -- whatever it took to get thecorners of that gorgeous mouth to turn up. Gorgeous? Yeah, hell,and he didn't even have to feel funny for thinking it, 'cause itwas just the truth. Fraser was so beautiful that Ray had evencaught Lieutenant Welsh giving him the ol' roving eyeball acouple of times.

Not that that made Ray's crush any less dumb. Itwas seriously time to find a girlfriend. He hadn't gone out on somuch as a second date with anyone since Stella left, and now lookwhat his twisted little brain was doing: fixating on the big BoyScout. It was crazy. And like there was a snowball's chance inhell of anything coming of it, anyway. Fraser got propositionedprobably every damned day of his life -- and by much betterprospects than funny-haired, divorced Chicago detectives, who, ohyeah, just happened to be the wrong sex. Of course, Fraser justgot flustered and turned everyone down anyway. God only knew whathe was looking for.

They got up to 2B, and piled Fraser's stuffagainst the far wall. Ray looked around. It was pretty much whathe'd expected it would be: a little bare bones, white-walled boxof a studio, but with good western light from twolarger-than-average windows. It figured that Fraser would wantgood light after bunking in that dark little office at theConsulate.

Fraser set the bedroll and duffel bag he was carryingdown next to the spot where Ray had put the carton of books, andhe hung the garment bag containing his uniforms up in the single,small closet. Diefenbaker made his own round of the place,snuffling thoroughly along the floor.

"Well, this isit."

"I didn't think it was gonna be Lake ShoreDrive." Ray walked over to the windows to check out anypossible view. Nothing much, unless you considered a wide,Sunday-afternoon-empty avenue lined with more dingy brickapartment buildings particularly scenic.

"I know,"Fraser said, then added a little self-consciously, "mostpeople I've met here have difficulty understanding how simple myhousing requirements are." Ray nodded.

"I lived out of my car for about a week after I droppedout of college. Going back to my parents place was out of thequestion, 'cause my dad just about disowned me for quittingschool, and Stella couldn't put me up 'cause of her roommate. Itwasn't the most fun thing I've ever done, and I'm real happy nowto have my TV and stereo... but I get the simple thing, I do.Fact is, I'm not sure I totally trust a person who's never spenta night in their car."

"I've never slept an entirenight in a car, Ray. Well, except on stakeouts... and then onegenerally sleeps in shifts..."

"You grew up in a damnedsnow bank and you've been living in your office for most of ayear, Fraser. I think you get a walk on the technicality, there.I meant it, uh, you know, symbolically."

"Ah, Isee," Fraser said, but Ray was pretty sure he didn't really.Maybe he should've tried to explain it using narwhals or icefishing instead. "So, whaddya say we order that pizza andinaugurate this place, huh?" Ray suggested, pulling his cellphone out of his back pocket.

They sat on the floor beneath the westernmost window, out ofthe glare of the late afternoon sun, the open box of pizzabetween them. Diefenbaker had taken up his usual spot at Ray'sfeet, waiting alertly, and not-quite-patiently, to be handed thecrusts of his slices. Fraser had given up trying to break Ray ofthe habit a long time ago. He even seemed grudgingly amused byit, so long as it was just pizza crusts. Donuts were anotherstory though, and Ray still had to palm those to Dief on the sly.

Fraser bit into a second piece of pizza and smiled suddenly. Rayautomatically glanced down to see if he'd dropped a glob of sauceon his shirt.

"What're you grinning at?"

"Pineapple."

"Pineapple is funny?"

"Notreally funny, Ray, just unlikely. I didn't see much pineapplegrowing up in the Territories. Pizza itself was a pretty exoticthing."

"I can't even imagine that," Ray said,shaking his head. "Sometimes it's hard to remember thatyou're really from somewhere else."

"Not for me," Fraser said in a quiet voice that madeRay's heart ache.

Ray knew Fraser was unhappy. He knew the whole story about howFraser had wound up in Chicago in the first place, and it was afucked up tale if he'd ever heard one. How could anyone take thisguy -- this beautiful guy, this great cop -- out of thoseNorthwest Areas where he belonged and stick him in a city andmake him hand out tourist literature and replace lost passports?And for what? For being smart enough to figure out that it was amember of the same goddamned RCMP Fraser loved so much that hadorchestrated his father's murder? It made Ray crazy to thinkabout it. Sometimes he wondered if the RCMP didn't have anInspector in charge of Special Hells. Thatcher'd be a good one tohead up that unit.

"Why don't you quit?" Ray asked,suddenly finding the nerve to ask the question he'd beenwondering about for months.

"Quit what?" Fraser's tonewas mild, but Ray had the feeling he was doing thatdense-on-purpose thing.

"The fucking RCMP, that's what. Imean, I love being a cop, Fraser, don't get me wrong. You can'tput up with the crappy hours and crappy pay and crappy coffee,and all the ugliness and misery if you don't. But at the end ofthe day it's still a job to me. Hell, I was ready to chuck it allthat day in the crypt you staked out Marcus Ellery with me,remember? The badge is something I can take off. I get thefeeling it's different with you."

"It's, ah ...complicated," Fraser began, putting down his pizza on thepaper plate between his outstretched legs as though no longerhungry.

"You deserve better than what they've givenyou."

"No." Fraser looked down, probably to avoidRay's searching gaze. "I really don't."

***************

Feeling Ray's continued, disbelieving stare, Fraser gatheredup the pizza box and plates, carrying them to the kitchenette'snarrow countertop. He was never going to be able to explain it,why he had to stick this out, why he had to do what he could tomake amends, for his father and for Victoria. Ray would yell athim and tell him none of it was his fault, but Ray didn'tunderstand. Ray hadn't seen the look on Victoria's face when sherealized that he was really going to turn her in -- after she'dsaved his life. Ray hadn't been on the phone that last Christmas,hearing the worry in all the things his father wasn't saying. Inthe things his father never said. And Ray hadn't been the one notforcing the issue, not going to him, anyway. Now his father wasdead, and Victoria was a murderer and a fugitive -- and he'dalmost run away with her anyhow, even when it was too late. He'dput Ray Vecchio's life and family at risk ... and people thoughthe was *good*?

"Fraser! Cut it out. What are you doing, man?You're disappearing on me here."

Fraser turned around fromthe counter, startled to realize that Ray had come up to standright behind him. "I'm sorry, Ray. I don't mean -- "

"You know, talking won't actually kill you." Ray's handwas gentle on his arm, and Fraser closed his eyes briefly at thegesture. //It might, if it means you discover the truth aboutme.//

"Ray, I ..." "Come on, I unload stuff on youall the time. You know every miserable little thing about me, andI don't know squat about what the hell goes on in yourhead."

He should have foreseen this. Ray was getting angry now,starting to pace the small room, sounding insulted. But how couldhe tell Ray what he wanted to know? Because while Ray hadrevealed intimate, even embarrassing things about his own life,he had never done anything as bad as the things Fraser had done.The only thing that came close was his part in Beth Botrelle'sharrowing stay on death row, and even then Ray had managed to getit right before it was too late. As desperately as Fraser wantedto take Ray into his confidence, how could he without destroyingRay's opinion of him? Ray, who was his only real friend herebesides Diefenbaker, and the one person who had come to mean themost to him?

"I... this is rather ... difficult forme."

Fraser knew he wasn't the easiest person to get alongwith. That although he'd become an astute observer and student ofhuman nature, his own actual experience left quite a bit to bedesired. He was irritating. Annoying. And those were assessmentsgiven by his friends. Both Rays called him stubborn, and hesupposed that it was true. He was accustomed to ruling his ownlife in a simple and uncompromising fashion, for there had neverbeen anybody else to consider. Well, except for Diefenbaker, andjust look how contentious their relationship got at times.

Finding real friends had always been hard. He just didn't knowhow to *be* with people. Oh, he could be polite -- that wasalways safe. He could be official, and helpful, and he couldlisten. But he didn't know how to just *be*. He'd spent too muchtime alone to feel entirely comfortable in his own skin whenothers were around. He invariably either retreated inside a shellof grandmother-instilled and RCMP-honed formality andprofessionalism, or worse, found himself so starved for a humanwitness to his thoughts that when he actually got around peoplehe talked too much and bored them.

The only time he really knewhow to let go was when he was working a case, when he could losehimself in the challenge of a puzzle and the adrenaline of ahunt. And he knew it was only the common thread of police workthat had gifted him with the two Rays. Would either of themreally have had any desire to spend time with him had they metunder other circumstances? Especially Ray Kowalski, his"inherited" Ray? Ray Kowalski managed to be entirelyhimself, even while pretending to be another man. From the momentthey first met, that strange, disorienting day Fraser had gottenback from holiday to find this spiky-haired blonde fireballmasquerading as his friend, Ray Kowalski had been nothing buthimself, one hundred and ten kilometers an hour. Moving, winking,teasing. Talking with so much energy he mangled half his words.He was so alive. So amazing, captivating, and //still in lovewith his ex-wife. Stop it.// and...

Fraser looked over at Ray. Who was still waiting for ananswer, and looking angrier by the second. Oh, dear.

***************

The guy was going to drive him to drink. Fucking Fraserthought he deserved it -- exile and all. He saw the best ineveryone but himself. And he wouldn't talk about it, he justbottled up, and it made Ray nuts. How could anyone so smart andstrong and capable be so blind? //How can he have so much tospare when it comes to picking me up, and never cut himself abreak?//

It wasn't good. It wasn't healthy. Frase was just gonnago postal or something one day, lose it completely. Snap, like hemust have when that Metcalf chick came to town, when he'd woundup shot in the back by Ray Vecchio. Fraser had come *this* closeto dying. The bullet was still in there. Ray had read the report,sketchy as it was. He'd almost died a year before Ray had evenmet him. He might never have gotten to know Fraser. Ray scrubbedhis hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut tryingdesperately not to think about what he'd do or where he'd bewithout Fraser.

Shit. Now he was really wigging out. Fraser washis favorite person on the planet these post-Stella days, thebest friend he'd ever had. Sure, he was weird, but he was alsothe most trustworthy guy Ray had ever known. And the smartest.Hell, yeah. And Fraser treated Ray like *he* was smart too. Hedidn't roll his eyes when Ray's jumbled thoughts spit out thewrong words for things, like Stella used to. Fraser always knewexactly what he meant, and he'd just supply the right word withthat little half-smile and wait for Ray to continue.

Okay,sometimes it was annoying when Mr. Information Please put in anappearance when Ray wasn't in the mood for it, but mostly he knewFraser was just trying to help. And Christ, the conversationsthey had! Nobody had talked to Ray about the things Fraser didsince college; and Fraser wasn't some snotty, show off kid tryingto prove how deep he was by batting around Life's Big Questions.No, Fraser really thought about stuff that mattered -- stuff likejustice, and right, and truth -- and he made Ray think about it.And Ray *liked* being a person who thought. He liked who he waswhen he was with Fraser. He liked being with Fraser. He wanted tobe with him... pretty much all the time. Oh, God. It reallywasn't just about Fraser's smile, was it? And it wasn't reallyjust a crush, either.

"Ray? I know what you're thinking..."

//What! No,wait, he didn't really mean that literally.// But what *did* hemean? What the hell did Fraser mean when he said he thought hedeserved the way the RCMP brass had shipped him off to Chicago tosave face for some bunch of embarrassed politicians?

"Sowhat do you think you deserve, Fraser? What have you done thatwas so wrong? You feel so guilty over that crazy Victoria chickyou think Vecchio's bullet should have killed you?" Theanger had sparked up again and Ray resumed pacing, because if helooked over at Fraser, he'd just give in and let it go. And rightnow, he didn't want to let it go. He wanted to have it out. Hewas feeling too much. Way, way too much.

"Well, if youreally want to talk about *should's*, Ray, the storm at FortitudePass should have killed me ten years before that," Frasersaid, an unexpectedly sarcastic bite in his voice. "ButVictoria kept me alive. And I thanked her by arresting her andturning her in."

He was doing that thing again that Rayhated. That thing that sounded logical, but was really just moreof his fatalistic bullshit. The way Fraser acted sometimes, itreally was like he didn't care if he lived or died.

"So isthat why you do all the demented maniac stuff you do? Youshould've been dead already so what does it matter?" Ray waspractically yelling now. This was beginning to feel like abizarre retread of the fight they'd had at the waterfront the dayRay wound up slugging Fraser. Ray kind of felt like slugging himnow, actually. But he would never, never do that again.

"No." Fraser sounded adamant, indignant, even. Thena pause. An eyebrow scratch. "No." The sonofabitch hadactually taken a second to think about it.

Ray's hands shook withthe itch to grab Fraser by the shoulders and throttle him.Instead he stepped away and rubbed at his forehead infrustration. The veins in his temples began to pound as his pulsequickened.

"You are one seriously fucked up individual,Fraser. You hear me?"

Fraser's eyes narrowed and darkened,and Ray could tell he had some smart ass comeback he was bitinghis tongue on. He turned his back to Ray, and walked over to theother side of the room where his stuff was piled. Ray started tofollow, still mad and not done taking a piece out of him, when heheard Fraser muttering something under his breath.

"What wasthat you just said?"

Fraser quirked one eyebrow up, makingsure Ray saw how pointedly the question was being ignored.Infuriating bastard. Then he gave his bedroll a little kick andit unfurled neatly lengthwise along the wall.

"Dammit,Fraser. Do not do that."

If there was one thing on theplanet more frustrating than Mr. Know-it-all 'won't stop arguing'Fraser, it was Mr. Silent Treatment 'you've wounded me and I'mgonna sulk about it' Fraser. Mr. Silent Treatment was sitting onthe bedroll now, with his back leaning against the wall, armsfolded across his chest, looking away into the corner of theroom. Ray knew he should just let it go, should probably justleave, go home and cool off. But getting shut out was making himeven angrier because they were right back where they'd started.Ray stalked the rest of the way across the floor and stood at theedge of the bedroll, glowering down.

"Tell me what yousaid."

When Fraser finally looked up, his jaw was tight andhis grey eyes had gone cold. //Shit. I'm just gonna wind uppushing him further away.//

"I said, that for you to callme... what was your charming term? 'Seriously fucked up?'"

Ray nodded, dropping his head, feeling sick. This wasn't what hewanted at all. Things had just spun out of control somehow.Again. Like they always managed to when Ray and his crazy temperwere involved.

"I said, 'If that isn't the pot calling thekettle black . . .'"

Ray felt most of his righteousindignation drain away upon hearing that little poke. He sure ashell couldn't deny it. The wreckage that was the life of StanleyRaymond Kowalski after Stella left wasn't exactly anything tocrow about. If it was, he wouldn't even be here now. He'd still*be* Stanley Raymond Kowalski instead of pretending to be RayVecchio.

"Yeah. You're right, as usual," Ray grumbled,sliding his back down the wall, coming to rest beside Fraser onthe bedroll. He thumped his head back against the wall a coupleof times, and then one last little barb snuck out, almost of itsown volition.

"But at least I don't have some goddamneddeath wish."

"No, you have Stella."

Ray lookedover at Fraser, startled. He opened his mouth, automaticallyintending to defend his ex-wife, but a smile snuck up on himinstead. And then a laugh.

"You fuck." Ray punchedFraser's leg hard. "I knew that polite Mountie routine wasjust an act."

Fraser shot Ray a sidelong glance and ahalf-smirk, and suddenly, just that quickly, the tensionevaporated. Ray breathed a sigh of relief. Fraser didn't want tobe fighting either. So, maybe neither of them were perfectpictures of emotional health. Shit happened. It wasn't like theywere gonna have some magical conversation that solved everything,and Ray sure as hell didn't want to endanger the relationshipthey did have. Not now. The rest could wait.

They sat side byside on the bedroll for a moment, just smiling in friendly miseryinto the darkening room. Ray was close enough to Fraser to feelthe rhythm of his breathing. Close enough to be aware of thewarmth radiating off his body all along his left side whereFraser was sitting, and of that intoxicating worn-flannelclean-laundry scent of him. It was also close enough to noticethe drafty, cool, lack of warmth on his right. A little shiverwent through Ray at the thought.

"Just don't do it anymore,okay?" Ray said quickly, suddenly freaked out again.

"Don't do what anymore?" Fraser asked warily.

"Thecrazy stuff. The getting shot, and stabbed, and jumping offreally tall things stuff." Ray sighed, really not meaning totake another lap around the same tired track, but the words justtumbled out. "You really scare me. And I don't care if youthink you're just some miserable bastard who doesn't deserve tolive, 'cause I'm selfish, okay? And *I* want you around."//God, do I want you around.//

"All right, Ray."

"And because I've got nosense," Ray continued, unable to stop the rush of words now,looking down at his hands, which were twisting helplessly in hislap, "and I trust you, I'll just follow you. And that scaresme too."

"Ray," Fraser's hand clasped hisshoulder, strong and warm, and suddenly Ray felt some wilderemotion surging towards the surface -- which was really, reallynot what he wanted. "I wish you'd talk to me sometimes, youknow? I wish... I wish I was closer to you." And even inthis state, Ray was surprised he'd let that slip, because itsounded *beyond* needy. //Oh dammit, Kowalski. You are *not*going to get all choked up here.// This was so much worse thanlosing it in front of Beth Botrelle's house; at least then he'dhad a good excuse.

But Ray knew why he was feeling so lost. Ithad really hit home tonight. He needed Fraser, and Fraser didn'tneed anybody. Didn't *want* anybody in there, inside those wallsof his. Fraser was the most self-contained, solitary person Rayhad ever known. So it was hopeless, for every possible reason.Totally, completely hopeless. A single sniffle escaped from him,and he knew Fraser had to have heard it. Mr. Bat Ears heardeverything. Ray drew his legs up to his chest, wrapped his armsaround them, and rested his head on knees which were shaky andhard against his throbbing forehead. He wished he could take thewhole day back, fly backwards around the world like Superman andturn the clock back so none of it would have happened. But it wastoo late for that now. His big mouth had seen to that.

"Ray..." Fraser sounded like he was completely at aloss. He didn't seem to know what to do, and Ray felt so bad andso dumb for not just leaving well enough alone. For not beinghappy with what he had. He always had to push things. That waswhat Stella said, and look what happened. Look what happened.

"I'm sorry," Ray said, squeezing his eyes shut.Fraser's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"Don't. Don't besorry." He sighed softly. "It's..."

Ray couldpractically feel his discomfort sitting there in the room withthem like a *thing*. Big time emotional-type convos were notexactly Fraser's cup of tea.

"You ... you are as close to meas anyone ever has been." He didn't say Vecchio's name, buthe didn't have to. Ray picked his head up when he felt Frasermoving beside him, crouching next to him, hand still on Ray'sshoulder. He was gazing at Ray with an honest concern that wasalmost a little unnerving.

"Really?" Ray's voice cameout a hoarse croak. //Dork.//

"Yes, really." Andleaving one hand on Ray's shoulder for balance, Fraser cuppedRay's chin with his other hand, tilting his face up. Then heleaned in close so their foreheads were almost touching."You are not only my partner, but my closest and dearestfriend."

Some part of Ray had a sudden, crazy impulse tolaugh, because Fraser was so beautifully weird it was almostsurreal. No guy Ray knew -- no American guy, for sure, anddefinitely no cop -- would even come close to saying somethinglike that. Forget about meaning it. But Fraser would. Hell, he*did* it. Kind of amazing how he could be so closed up about somethings and so totally straightforward about others. And sometimeswhen they fought, like earlier, Ray would get so caught up in thestubborn, frustrating, unreadable parts of Fraser that he'dforget how sweet he was, how thoughtful. He remembered now.

"Don't give up on me, Ray," Fraser said so quietly thatRay wasn't sure he'd meant to say it out loud. Ray glanced up,and their eyes met and locked. He knew he was staring way, waytoo long, but he couldn't stop himself. And before he knew whathe was doing, he was straining up towards Fraser, snuffly noseand all, hoping, ridiculously, for a hug. Instead, Fraser brushedthe back of his hand along the side of Ray's face, and Raypressed his cheek into the caress, letting his eyes drift shut.Then suddenly, Ray could feel the remaining distance between themclosing as Fraser leaned in and kissed him. It was just a littlekiss -- soft, warm, gentle -- but it was a real kiss, all right.No mistake about it.

***************

Fraser pulled back immediately, shocked by what he had justdone. Seeing Ray that upset had made him take complete leave ofhis senses and he'd acted purely on impulse. When Ray said he wanted to be closer... well, surely he didn't mean *that*. At least Ray hadn't thrown a punch yet. He was probably still too stunned. Fraser chanced a surreptitious glance over at Ray, and found him looking surprised but, oddly, not visibly angry. Ray rubbed two fingers across his lips, as though chasing evidence of what had just happened. Then he looked up and flashed an enigmatic little smile.

"You, uh, always go around kissing guys on the mouth like that, Fraser?"

"Ah... I'm not in the habit of it, no."

Fraser could feel the warmth rising to his cheeks. How could he possibly offer a reasonable explanation for his behavior? No anecdotes he could think of at the moment conveniently addressed reasons you might kiss your partner.

"You just seemed somewhat, ah, upset and I wanted to..." Well, there was the problem right there. He'd just *wanted* to. "I'm terribly sorry, Ray, I meant no offense."

"Oh, no!" Ray said quickly. Then he paused and shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, I, uh, wasn't, you know, offended. Just kinda surprised, that's all."

It didn't look like Ray was going to punch him, after all. Fraser let out a deeply held breath. Maybe Ray was merely writing this off as yet another example of Fraser's Canadian strangeness. Hopefully he'd simply call Fraser a freak, as usual, and forget all about it. Of course, Fraser would never be able to forget the incredible softness of Ray's lips against his own. But he would get himself back under control. For the sake of their friendship, he had to.

Fraser got up and busied himself with rummaging through the box where he'd packed his kerosene camp lantern. The electricity in the apartment was not scheduled to be turned on until the following day, and the sun would soon be all but gone. There was still enough light from the street coming in the two large windows to provide some illumination, but all things considered, it was probably not a good idea to be sitting with Ray in the dark at the moment.

While he was safely across the room, Fraser also decided to take the opportunity to change the subject of conversation to the one thing that would be sure to put the damper on any of these nonsensical thoughts of his for good. There was only one logical explanation for Ray's emotional volatility this evening, after all. And he had been trying to open up the possibility of talking... maybe it was Ray who really needed to talk. Perhaps he had seen her recently and was just now having a delayed reaction to it, hence his overly sensitive behavior. //Of course that was it. Would Ray really be that upset because he didn't feel like he was close enough to *you*?//

"Ray, I don't mean to pry but... is all this about Stella?" As painful as it would be to hear about, Fraser felt that he owed Ray this much, especially after what he had just done.

"Huh? Is all what about Stella?" Ray blinked and looked at Fraser with a confused expression. He seemed taken off guard, as though his thoughts had been somewhere else entirely. Fraser lit the camp lantern over the kitchenette sink before coming back to where Ray was sitting. He placed the lantern on the floor, a good distance from the edge of the bedroll, then sat back down beside Ray, a bit further away from him than before, wanting to re-establish the bounds of their friendship in a way Ray would feel comfortable with. Ray glanced down at the space left by the increased distance between them, then back up at Fraser.

"Is all what about Stella?" he repeated neutrally.

"You've seemed... today... I've noticed that you've been acting..." This was proving to be harder than Fraser had expected. It didn't usually require much prompting to get Ray off and running on the subject of his ex-wife.

"Like what? A seriously fucked up individual?" Now the teasing tone was back, and Fraser didn't know quite what to make of it. The only thing he knew was that he didn't want to go anywhere near the 'seriously fucked up' comment. That had stung surprisingly deeply. Of course, Ray had that power over him now. It was a frightening realization. Ray was a lot closer than he knew. Closer, certainly, than Fraser had ever expected for him to become. Fraser measured his next words carefully.

"Perhaps a little... emotional..."

"So, what makes you think it's got anything to do with Stella?"

Was that a hint of a challenge in his voice? Oh dear, this didn't seem to be working very well.

"Well, you are still in love with her."

Ray cocked his head a little bit to one side, and the smirk reappeared. "You don't like Stella much, do you?"

Fraser blanched. Had he made that so obvious to Ray? Of course he had, just earlier he'd made a sarcastic remark about her. Had, in fact, implied that Stella was Ray's equivalent to what Ray had termed Fraser's 'death wish'. Ouch.

Fraser bit his lower lip, and Ray laughed softly. "S'okay, Frase. She doesn't like you either. Actually, she's the only woman I can think of who doesn't like you... well, except maybe the Ice Queen, but *she* just acts that way to keep from chasing you around her desk."

"Ray--" Ray laughed again, but returned immediately to the question.

"So, you gonna tell me why you don't like Stella, or what?"

Fraser's brain worked feverishly for a polite way out. "It isn't that I don't like her," he started in the most reassuring tone of voice he could muster. "She's ... ah, a first-rate attorney. In fact, I'm sure she's a woman of many fine qualities, or else you'd never have..."

"Fraser!"

"I don't like the way she treats you."

He'd said it before his internal censor could kick in and catch it. Oh dear. Ray would be furious now. Veiled sarcastic remarks were one thing, but now he'd just openly confirmed that he held no particular fondness for the woman of Ray's dreams, Ray's one true love. This entire evening had turned into an unmitigated disaster. Fraser was beginning to sorely regret that once innocuous observation about pineapple being a rarity in the Northwest Territories. In fact, he wasn't sure he ever wanted to see another slice of pizza ever again.

"Is that all?"

"I'm sorry, Ray. Is what all?" Now he had been caught with his thoughts drifting, to boot.

"Is that all? Is that why you don't like Stella? You don't like the way she treats me?"

"Yes." There didn't seem to be any point in attempting to salvage a polite or graceful answer out of what he'd already confessed to. As Ray would say, that cat was out of the bag and on the floor meowing.

"Oh." Ray appeared to think that over for a moment, then he smiled. A real, genuine, warm smile aimed right at Fraser. "I'm not in love with her anymore. I *do* love her. I mean, I think I always will. But I'm not *in* love with her anymore. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, I suppose it does," Fraser said, although he was still too dazed by Ray's smile to immediately register everything he had just said. Once his thoughts caught up, Fraser was puzzled. Had Ray just said he wasn't in love with Stella any longer? As though sensing Fraser's confusion, Ray continued.

"I guess I finally realized that it was never going to work out. We want different things, Stell and me. I don't think she was any happier about my dropping out of college and becoming a cop than my dad was, you know. I think things with her started going downhill almost before we even got married. I was just too bullheaded to admit it."

"Loyalty is not a bad quality, Ray," Fraser said quickly, then added, "but I'm glad to hear you seem to have made peace with your feelings towards her."

"Yeah, me too."

Ray smiled again. Perhaps the evening was not an utter loss after all. "So, you're feeling better now?" Fraser asked hopefully.

A sly grin tugged at the corners of Ray's mouth. "If I said I still felt lousy, would you kiss me again?"

***************

Uh oh, Fraser wasn't laughing. He wasn't even smiling. He looked kind of... blank. Like Ray's joke had been from so far out of left field that he didn't even know how to process it. //Joke, right. Like you'd mind so much if he took you literally and leaned over and...//

Ray shook his head when he realized that he was looking rather too intently at Fraser's neck. Well, not his neck, really, more like the spot at the base of Fraser's throat that showed just under where the top button of his blue flannel shirt was undone. The spot where Ray could quite vividly imagine himself burying his face to breathe in that fresh, soapy Fraser-scent. And from that spot, it would be so easy to bite and suck and kiss his way up and up and up until he could run his tongue along the length of that strong, beautiful jawline which was just beginning to show the faintest hint of five o'clock shadow... Whoa! Fraser was staring at him now like he'd just sprouted another head. //Quick, Kowalski. Crack another joke.//

"Actually, today already makes two, if you count that buddy breathing thing from the Henry Whatsisname." Ray knew Fraser was going to blush at that, but not quite *that* hard.

"Henry Allen, Ray. And... you can't count that," he protested, getting redder by the second.

"Oh, I dunno," Ray said, laughing, enjoying the teasing and beginning to feel distinctly warmer as he remembered that crazy day on the sinking freighter, almost fondly now that it was removed from the cold and the wet, the panic and certainty of death. "Your mouth, my mouth, together... sure sounds like a kiss to me."

But then it was almost impossible for Ray not to superimpose the gentle, soft warmth of tonight's kiss over the dramatic memory of Fraser coming back to save him from drowning on the Henry Allen. *Oh man*. And then Ray became very consciously aware of the fact that they weren't just sitting on the floor here -- they were actually sitting on what was, for now anyway, Fraser's bed. And it was getting pretty cozy in the room now that the sun had set and the flickering, soft amber light of the lantern had taken over. Ray swallowed hard and snuck a peek over at Fraser, just in time to catch him pretending not to be looking back.

"Ray, I..."

"Frase..."

They both stopped awkwardly, staring at each other. Ray didn't feel like joking anymore. Not when Fraser was sitting right there next to him looking so edible, and *not* looking like he'd refuse an invitation. When he looked like he was just waiting for one. Oh, God. Was this really happening? Was it *possible*? Well, there was only one way to find out for sure.

//Come on, Kowalski, you can do this. Stella was out of your league too. Overreaching is your specialty.// Ray shifted to face Fraser, licking his lips and wiping suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans. //Okay, now just reach out, and take his arm, and pull him closer, and...// But before Ray even had a chance to move, a flash of dark hair and blue flannel was coming his way, tackling him down onto the bedroll. Whoa! This was really happening all right. It was happening right fucking now. //Sheez, what the hell has gotten into Fras... Oh, *God*.// That gorgeous, soft, warm mouth was covering Ray's for the second time that night, but where the earlier kiss had been merely affection, this one was blatantly sex, unwrapped and surprisingly aggressive.

Aggressive, yeah ... nipping, sucking, coaxing open his mouth. *Wow*. Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser's neck, pulling him closer and returning a little aggression of his own. There was the friction slide of denim against denim as Fraser's knee pushed its way between Ray's legs, urging them apart, and Ray's senses flooded with a rush of warmth as Fraser's weight settled over his body.

God, when he'd asked for another kiss, he sure as hell wasn't expecting *this*! Holy shit. Ray would have smiled if he could have done so without breaking their contact. Finally, the need for air forced them apart, and Ray let his head drop back onto the bedroll. Now he did smile. He would have offered a lithium the size of a pudding pop to anyone who'd suggested that he would ever wind up rolling around on the floor, making out with Benton Fraser like a horny teenager. But here he was, pressed beneath his best friend, panting deliriously, hard as a rock, and already starting to sweat.

Fraser returned Ray's smile a little breathlessly. His hair was slightly tousled now, curling invitingly over his forehead, and his eyes looked liquid and dark. This flushed, aroused Fraser was something Ray didn't think he'd ever get the chance to see, and it was more beautiful than he could've imagined in a million years. "Fraser, you trying to take my tonsils out, or what?" Ray said weakly, trying to laugh, still trying to catch his breath.

"Ray, I'm sorry. I lost my --"

The smile vanished, and Fraser started to push himself up onto his arms, like he was trying to get up. Like he was going to stop. Oh, no. Fraser didn't get that the tonsils thing was a joke. He must've thought he'd made a mistake and gone too far. Ray knew he had to act quickly, before this moment vanished forever.

"No! Wait!" Ray hooked his knee around Fraser's leg, trapping him where he was. "I was only kidding, you dope."

Ray tightened his arms around Fraser's neck and hauled him down roughly for another kiss before continuing, "You're amazing, I want this, and if you try to apologize again..."

"You'll kick me in the head?" Something Ray had said must've gotten through, because Fraser's voice had gone all soft and husky, and that hungry look was back in his eyes. Oh, thank God.

"Mmmhmm." Ray nodded, running his hands appreciatively down the athletically tapered lines of Fraser's torso. He tugged loose the tails of that clean-cottony smelling flannel shirt, then set to work undoing what seemed like way too many little white buttons, pausing just long enough to skim his own t-shirt off over his head.

The increasingly small part of Ray's brain that was still functioning clearly wondered at how strangely right this felt, when it really had no reason to. He'd never been anything more than mildly curious about men before. Sure, he knew a good looking guy when he saw one, and there had even been men besides Fraser that he would have had no problem describing as sexy -- but it had always been more from the point of view of how he could see a chick thinking so than from Ray actually wanting the guy for himself. But he wanted Fraser for himself. Wanted him the way he'd wanted Stella in the good old days. And nothing about it felt weird or wrong or bad. In fact, it kind of felt just the opposite.

Ray reached up to pull Fraser back down to him, aching suddenly, needing to feel that hot, smooth skin against his own chest. And not only did this feel right, it felt almost familiar in some strange way. Or maybe not familiar, so much as ... maybe *satisfying*. Because being with Stella had always been wonderful, even when things between them were unraveling, but this... This feeling right now, being with Fraser, with Ben, in this hot wrestle on the floor, felt inevitable. Felt like something he'd been missing his whole life and he'd never even known it.

Once their shirts were gone, they started in on the rest of the clothes. God, Ben was gorgeous. He was in a whole other league of beautiful from anyone Ray had ever known, even Stella. Ray was knocked off guard by it once again -- catching glimpses of creamy skin and well-muscled shoulders, strong legs, thick cock, and perfect ass -- as they kissed and groped and struggled their way out of jeans, and socks, and underwear.

Ray wasn't even sure Ben was conscious of undressing. Whatever the hell had gotten into him tonight, it had gotten into him *good*. Really fucking good. He was lying on top of Ray again, kissing him hard and deep, tongue stroking against Ray's in a dizzying rhythm that went round and round until Ray swore he could feel it buzzing through every nerve in his body. Ray's fingers tangled restlessly in Ben's short, minky, dark hair as he tried to convince himself that so long as he was still coherent enough to do this, he wasn't completely out of control. But he was burning, and his cock felt so hard and heavy and swollen, twitching and leaking, slicking and sliding against Ben's body, that he knew he couldn't take much more.

Then Ben was pressing Ray's head back into the thin padding of the bedroll, and he was ravaging the column of Ray's throat with his mouth, all teeth, tongue, and heat. He began sucking at the pulse point below Ray's left ear, and Ray bit back a cry, almost hysterically, not knowing whether to tug Ben away or pull him in even closer. When Ben's teeth sank deeper into that hyper-sensitive spot, tongue pressing hard against Ray's flesh, the cry finally escaped as a strangled moan.

"God, Ben, please..." Ray arched up, grinding against Ben's hip and felt the answering hardness there, pushing back into him.

Then Ben found his mouth for another long, deep kiss, while his hand reached between their bodies for Ray's aching, weeping cock. Ben was kissing him and stroking him and rocking against him all at once. It was too much sensory assault, and Ray felt the familiar burning sensation in the soles of his feet and the tightening in his balls that signalled the oncoming rush of orgasm. And oh, God, this was a big one. This one was out of control and coming too hard, too fast...

Ray's hands slipped down the broad expanse of Ben's back, searching desperately for something to cling to. Then the rush was tearing through him, and his fingertips were digging hard into thick muscle. He heard his own broken voice crying out helplessly as wave after dizzying wave pulsed through him and out, spurting hot and slippery over Ben's caressing fingers. Somewhere in the fog of his mind, he felt Ben coming hard beside him, heard Ben's deep, throaty sounds in his ear, saying his name, and then his body stilled and relaxed at last.

They stayed just like that for a few moments, silent except for harsh breathing. Finally, Ray tried to lever himself up onto his elbows, but he couldn't muster the energy and dropped again onto his back. He was drained. Drained and breathless, drenched in sweat, and spit, and come. The bedroll beneath him was damp from their exertions, and the surrounding air still felt humid with their heat, thick with their scent.

Ray took another shuddering breath and tried to gather himself back in. God, he hadn't even gotten the chance to do much for Ben, had he? He'd wanted to, but Ben had seemed like a man on a mission there. Next time Ray would have to return the favor. Next time? Were they lovers now? That not-quite-stray thought shook Ray out of his post-coital haze enough that he managed to heave himself onto his shoulder. //I guess it's a little late to be worrying about that.//

But, Ben had just turned his world upside down. And he'd assumed... Shit. Fuck. Yeah, fuck all right. Now what? //What if he doesn't want a goddamned *relationship* with you, Kowalski?// What if this had just been some crazy, primal *thing* that had taken over Ben tonight? What if it was because of all the talking and pushing Ray had done? What if the sex was just a one time thing, and now it was over? What if this had been for Ben what all those //All those. Ha! Three!// post-Stella women had been for him. Pent-up need relief. Itch-scratching. Oh, God. Was it just the sweat cooling on his body making him feel so cold? Ben was lying on his side with his back pressed against the wall, head supported on his crooked arm, watching Ray. He too, was covered in sweat, and his smooth skin glistened softly with it in the flickering light of the camp lantern.

"Ray?" Ray blinked, coming out of his thoughts. Ben's voice held a strange, uncertain note. Maybe even shy. And then Ray realized that Ben had said his name several times already, trying to get his attention. Ray cleared his hoarse throat.

"Yeah, Ben. Sorry, I'm just a little out of it at the moment." He offered a smile he hoped would explain his silence. "You just about killed me there. It's gonna take a while to recover."

Ben's return smile was almost convincing -- until it faltered and his eyes swept closed for a moment while he tried, and failed, to re-school his features into their normal calm.

"Hey." Ray finally found the strength to prop himself up onto his elbows. "You okay?"

Ben's eyes were open again, but still downcast, and he looked flushed -- like it had just occurred to him that he didn't have any clothes on. Ray didn't think he'd ever seen Ben look so vulnerable. So scared. Ray realised Ben was in the same place he was with the post-sex willies, maybe even in a worse one. God, he was trembling. Definitely in a worse place.

Ray dropped back onto his shoulder and draped his arm across Ben's waist, pulling him in closer until they were chest to chest, stomach to stomach, leg to leg, in a full body embrace. "It's okay," Ray whispered softly, hands stroking gently now over Ben's back, soothing the same muscles he had dug into so hard earlier, when Ben had taken him over the edge.

"It's okay," he whispered again, knowing that hearing it once wasn't going to be enough. He knew that raw, flayed open feeling all too well. After a few moments, Ben released a deep, shuddering sigh, and Ray could tell the worst of it had passed. Noticing how sticky their embrace had become, Ray reached for his discarded t-shirt to wipe himself down. Unsure of the etiquette of doing this with another guy, he turned the t-shirt inside out and handed it over to Ben with an apologetic shrug.

"I... it's been a long time," Ben said quietly, accepting Ray's shirt to clean himself off. Then he laughed a little, sadly. "Not that that really makes much of a difference, in all honesty. Not in this case."

Ray felt his heart begin to beat faster, and seem to echo louder in his chest. This *was* special to Ben, he was saying, and not because it had been a while, but because it was *Ray*.

"Me too," Ray started, before realizing it was stupid because the phrase didn't really apply to what Ben had actually said, only to what he'd implied. "I mean..."

"I love you." Wow. No evading, or delaying, or equivocating there. Ray pulled his head back far enough that he could look clearly into Ben's eyes.

***************

Ray was gazing at him, blinking silently, like he didn't know what to say. Fraser felt like his chest was squeezing down on his heart, pushing it back into the gray and colorless corner where he'd long ago consigned it, and where now, it seemed, it once again belonged.

"I love you, Ben," Ray answered after a moment. He said it very deliberately, and with a smile. "And not just 'symbolically, or something'. For real."

"You do?" Even as he said it, Fraser realized it was actually rather rude to question a declaration like that, but his thoughts were still too busy trying to rearrange themselves into a world where Ray loved him back to register anything more than stunned surprise.

"Yeah, I do. Dopey." Then he broke into a smile. "I'm just glad you 'fessed up first. Jeez, you ever do that before? With a guy, I mean?"

"Not since I was fifteen," Fraser replied distractedly, still trying to assimilate the news that Ray loved him.

"You did it with another guy when you were fifteen?"

Ray sounded half impressed, half incredulous. Fraser couldn't help but smile. Although he thought back fondly on those adolescent fumblings with Innussiq, his experiences weren't anything nearly so scandalous or interesting as Ray seemed to think.

"He was fifteen at the time as well, Ray. We'd gotten to know each other in Scouts."

"I thought you said that guy had a sister. Why didn't you mess around with her instead?" Ray asked.

Fraser was a little startled and then a pleasant warmth spread through him. He'd never realized that Ray paid that much attention to the stories he told about being back home. "Well, June was too young, for one thing. And mostly I liked..."

"So you and Inn..."

"Innussiq. Yes."

Ray was grinning widely at him, so Fraser hastened to explain. "We didn't do very much, and not for very long before my grandparents moved us again."

"And no other guys since?" Fraser shook his head. "No."

"Man, if you haven't done that to someone else since you were fifteen, you've got one hell of a good memory," Ray said with a smirk that brought a blush to Fraser's cheeks. But then Ray's smile faded, and he cleared his throat. "So, uh. What does this make us now?"

"Make us?"

Fraser paused to think, but Ray cut him off, laughing. "Boy, sex really does make you dopey, doesn't it? So much for you being the smart one of this duo." Ray waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Fraser felt a big, silly grin coming on that he knew would only serve to strengthen Ray's dubious claims of his diminished intelligence, but he couldn't seem to stop the smile even if he tried. And frankly, he didn't want to try. He was happy. Really, truly happy for the first time that he could remember.

"Make us," Ray continued, sobering, and hugging his arms across his chest. "Like, oh, hell, I dunno. Forget about it. Can we get a blanket over here? I'm getting kinda chilly."

Fraser got up and went over to dig out a Hudson's Bay blanket out of one of the duffel bags, musing over Ray's question all the while. He thought he understood, but wasn't sure.

"Are you inquiring as to the changed nature of our relationship now?" he asked tentatively, pausing to check the lantern fuel before handing the blanket over to Ray.

"You used the 'R-word' there, buddy. You been reading Frannie's Cosmo too?" Ray laughed softly as he shook the blanket out, then scooted over against the wall so Fraser didn't have to climb over him to get back into 'bed'.

"Frannie's Cosmo?" The reference was puzzling. "Ray, I'm afraid I don't..."

Ray scrubbed his hands though his spiky hair distractedly. "Look, Fras... Ben. I don't do the alone thing so good. I mean, I know you're like the strong, silent type or whatever but..."

"Ray," Fraser felt the need to interrupt him before he got any further down that path. "I assure you, I really don't, ah, 'do the alone thing so good' either."

"So, you mean, you, uh..." Ray paused thoughtfully, then grinned. "Oh. Cool."

And Fraser had the feeling that that would be the extent of their 'R-word' conversation for the time being, because Ray was wriggling closer to him now, and running slender, strong hands across his chest. "We did a pretty good job getting you settled in here, huh?"

"I should say so, yes," Fraser said with a smile that led to a contented groan as Ray's dark blonde head moved over him, dropping soft kisses everywhere his hands had roamed.

"You ever got anything else that needs to be, uh, moved," Ray looked up, and flashed a wicked grin, "you just let me know."

--FIN--