Stacked Deck
by Zeborah
The pretext Ray was using for dropping by the Consulate today was reasonable, but thin enough for Fraser's purposes. Which was a good thing; he'd been starting to get impatient for a while, and the duel with Lady Shoes had left him more than ready for more. So when Ray explained, he blinked a little, then visibly shrugged it off... but when the conversation slowed to a halt as they hoovered down several slices of Ray's favourite pizza, he took the opportunity.
He painstakingly wiped a few crumbs off his fingers, straightened in his chair, cleared his throat and looked directly at Ray. "Why did you really come here tonight?" he asked.
He managed to make Ray blink in surprise, and even frown a little in puzzlement. "Uh, like I told you, Fraser," he said, gesturing at the pile of case notes he'd brought with him. "Paperwork. Well, that and getting you to pick up the tab for the pizza." He replied without a hint of embarrassment, which was of course perfectly natural.
"I see," Fraser said. A beat later he scratched his eyebrow briefly and said with an explanatory gesture, "It's just that you... Well," and he said this in a tone that made it clear it was hardly his own fault having noticed this, and in fact he was a little embarrassed about it himself, "you *have* been flirting with me more frequently than usual recently."
Ray nearly choked, and had to take a moment to swallow his latest bite of pizza. "Flirting? What are you talking about?"
Fraser looked down, left, behind Ray, avoiding making eye-contact for more than a single abashed instant. "Holding my hand in the alley.... Betting for air." Technically he'd been flirting more than Ray at that point, so he continued before Ray noticed that. "Hu... putting your arm around-- Flirting. In any case, I've noticed it, which of course -- or at least, I imagine it was what you--"
Ray was shaking his head in confusion over Fraser's babbling; and, undoubtedly, over the whole idea of flirting. "You've... noticed? Me flirting with you?"
He smiled wryly. "I'm not blind, Ray. Did you think I wouldn't?"
"I didn't think anything, Fraser," Ray retorted, "'cause I wasn't flirting with you."
It was the sort of line that could have ruined everything, but Fraser had been expecting something like it. Not so soon, perhaps.... But he kept his cool. For a moment he let his face, his whole body freeze; then he looked up into the corner of the room and let his smile widen into full bitterness. "Ah," he said, a short half-bark. With a little concentration his eyes went misty, and he looked down again quickly so Ray would only see a flash of light in the water there. "I see," he added, and reached for the case notes as if he'd forgotten, or didn't want to remember, that they'd already finished with them for the night.
He buried himself in them, giving Ray time for it to sink in, and giving himself time to gauge Ray's reaction. There were no immediate outbursts; Ray wasn't suddenly remembering a late-night appointment and hurrying away; there was only an awkward silence. Perfect.
After a minute or two had passed with him shuffling papers absentmindedly and Ray sitting uncomfortably with half a pizza slice in his hand, he glanced up and held Ray's eyes for a full second. "It's okay, Ray," he said, as if trying to reassure himself, and quickly looked back at the papers.
There was a brief pause, then Ray ducked his head. "Okay," he said, with an accepting finality that would have been perfect if Fraser had really been the character whose role he was playing. Instead it was frustrating, and a little unnerving. He hadn't expected it, and he should have after the trust and leeway Ray had given him when dealing with Lady Shoes.
He pushed the notes aside with a slight sigh and said -- but this time without looking up -- "I just... misunderstood. That's all. I just thought-- but I was wrong."
Ray shrugged. "We've all been there."
"I doubt that," he said shortly, then more quietly, "I'm sorry, Ray. It's--"
"It's okay." He reached automatically to Fraser's arm, suddenly hesitated a little, then patted it quickly and awkwardly before pulling back. It couldn't have been more perfect if Fraser himself had directed it in a play. For now he made no comment on it, but later--
But for now he nodded and looked up again, taking a breath. "We should probably finish the pizza," he said, without moving.
Ray nodded, but didn't move either. After a moment he said, "You hungry?"
Fraser shook his head. "No." Not for pizza.
"Me neither." He stayed still for another few seconds, then stood up abruptly and closed the lid. "I'll have it for breakfast or something. Should get some sleep now, you know, uh... bright and chirpy to catch the early worm." He mimed a bird's beak with one hand then scooped up the case notes.
Fraser stood too, as hesitantly as he actually felt now. Ray wasn't supposed to leave *now*. If he'd done it before that would have been fine; Fraser had planned tactics to deal with that. But it was too late for those now that he'd already started the self-pity, and it was too early for anything else. He thought quickly, but still the best he could think of was to play along with a slightly desperate, "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"
Not good enough. "Sure," Ray said. "Any time. Don't let the bedbugs bite." He left the room in his odd, nearly sideways, style.
Fraser stared after him for several seconds, then strode out into the corridor and caught up with him at the front door. Caught his wrist and looked into his eyes, searching with anxiety he didn't entirely need to feign. It was only his voice that he tried, more or less, to control. "We're still friends, aren't we?" he said, aiming at a nonchalant tone of discussing whether or not it was still fine outside.
"Sure we are," Ray said sincerely. He smiled and gripped Fraser's shoulder in return. "Let's just get some sleep and, uh... see how it looks in the morning."
Fraser nodded. "That's good," he added. "I wouldn't want to... do anything to jeopardise our friendship."
"Good, 'cause you haven't," Ray said, opening the door. "See you tomorrow."
_No, don't go!_ His entire body shouted it at him, and at Ray. But it was nearly too late. If Fraser said nothing, Ray'd be gone; if he stopped him, it would ruin his entire character, risk the whole plan. Lose-lose.
_Don't go!_
Ray went, and Fraser could only shut the door behind him. He growled silently in anger, then stopped himself and curbed his appetite. Anticipation would increase the eventual satisfaction, anyway. No point screwing the cop here and now when he could stretch out the fun for another day or two. No, it was definitely better letting him go now, only to capture him again later. That had definitely been the right choice.
He locked the door and turned back to his office to relieve the frustration of tonight, and relish the prospects of tomorrow.
* * *
'Tomorrow' didn't come as quickly as he'd hoped. First he was kept busy with paperwork, which wasn't too bad; or at least, it was to be expected. But then, when he arrived at the precinct during his lunch hour, Ray wasn't there.
"He's working a case," Francesca told him when he asked, preening her hair and smiling at him. Francesca had been fun, that one night; particularly fun because his injuries had made his vulnerable act all the more convincing. "Didn't he tell you?"
"Well, I was busy at the time," he said, as if he'd known about the case all along. He should take her again sometime, when he'd finished with Ray. Maybe disguise himself; see if she was as easy when he wasn't in his Mountie costume. "I just thought he'd be back by now. Let him know I passed by," he added casually, and went back to the Consulate.
He spent the rest of the afternoon uneasily. Was Ray trying to avoid him? And if so, why? That was the dilemma. If Ray was distressed by what had happened last night -- hell, even if he was nauseated by it -- that wasn't a problem. Their friendship and a decent guilt-trip would see to that. But if he was confused, and taking this time to sort out exactly how he felt about it... to actually plan how he was going to react to Fraser when they next met...
That would be a disaster.
Probably not an unmitigated one, he was forced to admit. As long as Ray expected him to remain as altruistic as he pretended to be, he still had the advantage. He could change tactics as often and as quickly as he needed to; he didn't need to go along with anything Ray planned for himself.
So he waited and kept his mind on his work, secure in the knowledge that he would have Ray, sooner or later. When his phone rang a little afterhours, he was still signing and stamping forms and answered it automatically with the full Consulate line.
He was halfway through "Bienvenu au Consulat Canadien de Chicago" when Ray interrupted with a characteristically succinct, "Hi, it's me."
"Ray!" He paused for an instant as if taken by surprise, then said hesitantly, "How are you?"
"Same old. You wanna go out for food tonight? I got paid today, so, uh, I can pay you back for that pizza last night."
"You don't have to--"
"My treat," Ray said firmly.
"Okay," Fraser said, then, with a breath, added, "So you're not avoiding me, then?"
"Avoiding you?" Ray repeated. "I'm-- Who said that?"
"You didn't tell me about your case."
"It was just a case. I figured you'd have better things to do."
"I came to meet you for lunch." _Keep It Simple, Stupid_ was the motto; let Ray read into that everything Fraser didn't say. It was a lot more effective that way; the resulting silence proved that.
"Shit," Ray said, finally, and Fraser heard the chagrin thick on his voice. "Hey, I-- You know I didn't mean that, don't you?"
He nodded to get the pause just right. "Yeah, I know."
"Cause we're friends."
"Friends," Fraser agreed, and a flash of deja vu hit him briefly. He'd said something similar through a phone to Ray Vecchio, then returned to Chicago to find him replaced. It had been nearly devastating at first; he'd worked hard on Vecchio, largely because it disconcerted Francesca so much. But he'd quickly realised that this Ray, Ray Kowalski, was quite a serviceable substitute. ...Or at least, he soon would be.
"I'll come and pick you up, then," Ray said, the smile restored to his voice.
"Thank you," Fraser said sincerely, and cursed as soon as he'd hung up. Eating out delayed everything yet again; there was just no way to do in public what he wanted to do to Ray. So he had to wait out the evening as he'd waited out the day, keeping his mind on the surface things and ignoring everything beneath. The most he allowed himself by way of dwelling on his frustration was a slight abstraction, just enough to lend veracity when, on the way back home, he suddenly said, "I'm sorry about last night." Ray had been scrupulously ignoring the subject, so it was up to him again.
Now Ray shrugged. "I'm cool," he said, and concentrated a little harder on driving.
Fraser spared an eye to quickly judge the traffic, and decided he didn't need to worry about accidents. "I shouldn't have said anything. It put you in an awkward position." Not as awkward a position as he'd like him to be in, though...
Ray shrugged again, and shifted uneasily. "You misunderstood, I get that."
Fraser nodded and looked down at his hands. "I just want you to know," he said, looking up briefly and then down again, "I never wanted to pressure you. What I... feel... isn't your fault."
Ray took the bait almost immediately with a sharp, "What you feel?"
"It's not important," he said. "I just don't want to hurt you."
"You won't." Ray seemed to take it as a personal affront that Fraser had even thought he might.
"It's really rather embarrassing," he said, head ducked, keeping an even tone. "Suffice it to say, I'm used to not getting what I want." Needless to say, that was a lie.
Ray glanced between him and the road a few times. "Fraser," he said carefully, "you know if there was anything I could do--"
Fraser shook his head. "I wouldn't ask you to."
"Yeah, well, I would anyway." He tipped his head. "If..."
He smiled wryly and looked out the window. "I know." They were getting close to the Consulate; he'd have to control the pace of the conversation so it was natural for Ray to walk inside with him. And then it shouldn't be too difficult...
"Uh, listen," Ray said suddenly. "This case, it's going to drag on through tomorrow as well, so... What I mean is, I don't even know where I'm going to be 'round lunch."
"Do you want any help?" Fraser asked.
Ray pulled a face. "If you're into boredom that much, Frannie's got some grass-thing you can watch growing. But what I was going to say is, once I'm done with that I can come by the Consulate then." He peered at Fraser's face. "If you want, I mean."
"I'd like that very much," Fraser said.
"Okay, then," Ray said, nodding, and pulled over; and there was simply no subtle way for Fraser to move the conversation indoors, because that was the end of it.
He took his hat from the dashboard and opened the door. "Goodnight, Ray," he said, stepping out.
"Night, Fraser."
He shut the door and started towards the Consulate.
"Hey, Fraser!"
When he turned, Ray was leaning over the hood of the car, his blond hair glowing halo-like in the streetlights. Fraser took a few steps back towards him, and let his heart-rate speed a little in anticipation. "Yes, Ray?"
Then Ray drew back a little. "Nothing. It's-- Sorry."
Fraser took a few more steps towards him, cocking his head a little in puzzlement. "Were you going to say something?"
Ray shook his head. "It's nothing. I'll see you tomorrow." And before Fraser could do anything but open his mouth to protest, he ducked back into the car, slammed the door shut, and drove quickly away.
Too, too quickly. Fraser walked out to the curb to follow the car with his eyes. It turned too soon and was out of sight, out of reach. If he'd only said something to keep Ray there -- if he'd taken hold of that abortive fragment of... Of what? It wasn't 'nothing'. Ray had been about to say something so important that it couldn't be said, and Fraser had been too preoccupied with his hair to make him say it.
He shook his head sharply and strode back into the Consulate. No; it hadn't been his fault. Ray just wasn't ready to say it yet, but he would, tomorrow. Now that Fraser had extracted that promise to come tomorrow evening, there was no way for Ray to get out of it, even if he would have considered trying.
And tomorrow evening Fraser would make him say what he'd meant to say.
* * *
Ray arrived at only four o'clock the next day, nearly bouncing. "All done," he said cheerfully. "Just one more report and I'm done, I can forget about it for another year or two until the court case comes around."
"I'm pleased to hear that, Ray," Fraser said, smiling in automatic reflection of the light on Ray's face. And he kept smiling as Ray talked smalltalk and he answered smallanswers and judged body language and personal space and positions in the room.
And when the position was just right, and there was a lull in the conversation at just the right moment, he moved out from behind his desk and stood not-quite-between Ray and the door. "Ray, we need to talk."
Ray shook his head, suddenly wary. "No, we don't."
"We do," Fraser insisted.
"Why?" Ray burst out. "Why do we have to talk, why can't we just—just *talk*, the way we always talk, about food and boxing and cases and--"
"Because you're not letting me work on your cases anymore," Fraser interrupted, "and all our conversations are stilted, and you're even afraid to touch me."
"It was a boring case, Fraser. It was the most mind-numbingly boring case outside of a Russian baggage claim. Trust me, you were better off staying here."
"Maybe I'd have preferred being with you, Ray." Fraser stepped towards him as he shook his head again, and reached out to take his arm. "Ray--"
Ray pulled away and danced out of reach.
Fraser dropped his arm slowly, looking at the wall where Ray had been. After a moment he turned his head to look at where he was now, hovering like a dragonfly in another corner of the room. Their eyes met: Ray's were apprehensive; Fraser's, hopefully, were sad. "Ray," he repeated, "why are you afraid of me?"
"I'm not," Ray said defensively.
Fraser looked away and scratched his eyebrow, waiting miserably.
Ray slumped a little. "Uh, I kinda screwed up, didn't I?" When Fraser didn't answer, he took a breath and went on, "It's just I-- I mean-- Look, what I'm not really saying very well is... you know. You know, I'm like the apology man. Is that... is that enough?"
Fraser licked his lips slowly, then met Ray's eyes again. "I want to know why," he said softly.
Ray's eyes flickered uncomfortably. Trapped in his corner. "Fraser--"
"You were going to say something last night."
He shook his head. His wide eyes, held in Fraser's gaze, were the only part of him that didn't move.
"Tell me," Fraser insisted.
He finally broke the gaze, looking sharply away. "Fraser, why can't you just pretend nothing ever happened? Pretend nothing's changed? *Make* it so nothing's changed?"
"Everything changes, Ray."
"No."
"Ray..." And the tenderness he was speaking almost leaked its way into his heart before the throbbing in his groin reminded him he had no heart. He took a step towards Ray, then another. "Why are you assuming that change has to be for the worst?" And Ray wasn't moving, still wasn't looking at him, and when Fraser took his arm this time he only shivered.
_Now,_ Fraser's body insisted, but Fraser held back, watching Ray. This had to be perfect. There couldn't be any doubt that this was consensual, that Ray wanted this, that Ray needed it as much as Fraser's body did. He ran his hand lightly up to Ray's shoulder and held it there, just barely touching Ray's t-shirt, moving up and down with Ray's breaths.
Breaths quickening. "Fraser--"
"Ray, if you don't want me to--"
"Don't," Ray whispered hoarsely -- they were both whispering -- "Fraser, don't let me do this."
_Now," his body said, and he compromised by shifting a little closer. Not long now. "If you don't want to do this, it's your decision, not mine." He slid his hand behind Ray's neck and into the maze of gelled hair. "I know what I want."
"Fair warning, Fraser," Ray whispered. "I give you fair warning." And before Fraser could puzzle that out, Ray finally looked at him, met his eyes with dark dilated pupils, leaned across the few inches left between them, and opened his lips to Fraser's.
_Now,_ Fraser's body said, and he kissed back, leaned forward, pulled Ray towards him, pushed against Ray, breathed without breaking the kiss, as if he were playing the didgeridoo. And that sweet dark haunting music pulsed in his arteries and flowed in his veins as Ray turned him against the wall and explored his mouth, probing further and further until breathing didn't seem to matter anymore, if it ever had.
_Now,_ said his body, and he slid his hands down to Ray's waist, down to where the thin fabric of the t-shirt disappeared into Ray's jeans. And Ray pulled away.
And Fraser gasped in fresh air and ached for the old, and reality spun about him. Here he was, backed against a wall when it should have been Ray there unable to escape; and there was Ray, in the middle of the room, out of his grasp. "Ray--"
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not," he said, his voice low and firm.
"No, I mean-- I mean now. You're working, I'm working." He took a quick couple of breaths. "I've got this report, you've got the Ice Queen--"
"The Ice-- Inspector Thatcher?"
Ray nodded, still breathing hard. "She wanted to talk to you. I'm sorry. It wasn't urgent."
_No,_ said his body. "It can wait," said Fraser, and stepped towards Ray again.
Ray stepped back, towards the door. "I've got to go, Fraser. I'm sorry."
"Ray!" But Ray was already opening the door, and all Fraser could do was hiss at it, "Come back tonight!"
And already Ray was closing the door, and all Fraser could do was shut his eyes shakily and tell his body, _Not yet._
* * *
He cursed Ray soundly, soundlessly, through the entire meeting with Thatcher. She was eyeing him sharply, sensing that something was wrong but having no idea what it was. He blinked innocently and she cleared her throat in confusion as he invented a new string of invective to add to his mental repertoire.
Back in his office, he managed to cool down. Ray hadn't argued with his demand to return in the evening, so he'd be back shortly after five. In the meantime there was paperwork to do and phone calls to make.
Phone calls and the flashes of memory; paper work and the low-level longing that grew in his belly with each passing tick of the minute hand.
At five o'clock he took his hands from the keyboard and looked to the door; a moment later he went back to work. Checking the door already was only useful as an OOS-preventing micropause. Ray couldn't possibly arrive before quarter past.
At quarter past, he was getting distinctly twitchy, and at half past he gave up on the paperwork and turned his computer off.
At six o'clock, now the only one in the building, he went to the front door and looked out at the street for Ray's GTO. Not there. To justify his nerves, he locked up, then went to his office again to change. Let Ray knock when he arrived. Fraser shut his eyes and breathed, relaxing into thoughts of the evening ahead. But when he opened his eyes again, it was six thirty and Ray still wasn't there.
He stood up uncertainly. One report couldn't possibly have taken that long, and Ray hadn't called to say he'd been caught up in something else. Perhaps he hadn't heard Fraser's whisper. Perhaps he'd thought better of the whole thing, and that seemed frighteningly plausible; he'd been too slow to start, too quick to leave; was he meaning to simply not return, simply pretend it hadn't happened as he'd pretended before?
No. Fraser had gone too far now to let it drop. He took his wallet and left the Consulate with a measured stride. He flagged down the first taxi he saw, a handy trick when he was in a hurry. The cabdriver's conversation, innocuous as it was, only increased his grim impatience while distracting him from calming plans. By the time he got to Ray's apartment he didn't spend any more time than necessary: he handed the driver a decently sized green bill, swung out of the taxi, and strode into the building without looking to see if the apartment lights were on.
They weren't, as he discovered a moment later from the crack under the door. He knocked anyway, to no avail. After a minute or two he turned, hesitated, then went back down to the street. If Ray was caught up in a case he could be anywhere; if he was avoiding Fraser on purpose then he would be. He needed to reflect on the situation a little more before deciding to call him on his cellphone. In the meantime, he went back to the Consulate the same way he'd arrived.
Ray was standing on the doorstep, trying to jig the lock with his credit card again. Fraser shut the taxi door quietly and walked up behihnd him with soft steps. "We changed the locks," he said.
Ray spun around, then relaxed and grinned his quirky smile. Tense. "Where were you?"
"Looking for you."
"I was here."
Fraser nodded, then pointed his head at the lock. "Excuse me." Ray moved aside obediently and he unlocked the door and walked inside, letting Ray shut it behind them. "Did you finish your paperwork?" he asked evenly.
He'd had about three hours to do it in.
"Ugh," said Ray. Fraser looked at him and he pulled a face. "That was fine, then there was this stupid thing, looked like it was going to take a few minutes, you know. Then it was just a few minutes more, and it just kept dragging on -- I tried to call you, but... uh, I guess you were gone by then."
Fraser nodded silently, weighing the explanation in his mind. It sounded reasonable, and after all Ray was here, but he still didn't want to accept it.
Ray frowned. "You're not angry, are you?"
Yes. Fraser looked away; he suspected from what he knew of Ray and from his body language now that saying so wasn't the right way to attack this. "What did you mean by 'fair warning'?" he asked instead, meeting Ray's eyes again.
Ray pulled his hands out of his pocket and slumped in a different direction. "I meant," he said, shifting forwards, "once I start, I don't stop."
Fraser took a step forwards too, but kept his body in check this time. "You stopped before," he reminded Ray. No reproof, just a statement. A challenge.
Ray stepped again, and they were almost touching. "I won't stop this time."
_Now,_ said his body, but Fraser waited. His instincts focused on Ray's darkened pupils and hinted at him to be careful. But he was being careful. This time he wouldn't lose control. Without so much as flickering his eyes in response he turned away, walked away, to the front door. Locked it slowly and deliberately, then left the key in the lock and turned back to Ray's eyes again. The gaze seemed to pull him forward, but he measured his steps carefully.
Their hands met; their bodies met; his tongue plunged smoothly into Ray's mouth. He kept walking, barely slowing his pace, sweeping Ray in front of him towards the staircase. He freed a corner of his mouth to whisper, "Step."
"Mm-hmm," said Ray, and stepped up, pulling Fraser up after him nearly as much as Fraser was pushing.
They were of a height; on the stairs the kiss was awkward. On the landing it deepened, and they were halfway up the second flight of stairs before he realised that Ray was leading now. When they came to the top he started to turn Ray back around, but when Ray resisted he admitted it worked more smoothly this way. He knew the way eyes shut, head swimming, hands behind his back -- when had they got there? He freed one from Ray's grasp to open the door behind him.
Ray drew back a short space. "Thought this was the room I'm not allowed in."
"Screw Turnbull," Fraser said. He managed it in a single breath.
Ray slammed the door shut behind them. "Not my type," he said, and attacked Fraser's mouth again.
Landing on the bed back-first with Ray on top of him woke up his instincts again. This wasn't how he'd planned it. He rolled over smoothly as he tugged Ray's t-shirt loose. Ray was pulling his leather jacket down over his shoulders, and for several long moments, as his heart beat faster, his arms were tangled in the sleeves. As he struggled out of them, Ray hooked a leg up and behind Fraser's knee, reaching up to fumble with the top button on his shirt.
Then Ray pulled back from Fraser's mouth, instead dropping lightning hot kisses along his jawline, down his throat. Liquid flame on his Adam's apple as he breathed and swallowed. The jacket was a lump under his back, Ray's calf under his thigh. Ray's hands dropped to Fraser's belt, and his hips lifted off the bed in automatic response. "Buttons," said Ray.
"Uh huh." He undid one, as his eyes switched focus between Ray's hair, the ceiling, and the infinity beyond. Infinity. The belt hung loose at his waist. No; leave the buttons; he was the one running this. He put his hands on Ray's chest instead and started pushing the shoulder holster aside. At that, Ray rocked back -- he was kneeling astride Fraser's thighs -- pushed Fraser's hands aside and shrugged off the holster himself. Then down he leant again, kissing Fraser's chest. Liquid fire melting down towards his groin in advance of Ray's lips.
His instincts were starting to insist he pay attention, and he was starting to agree, though his body was more than happy to continue just the way they were. But he wasn't going to do that; he was staying in control. He took a breath.
Control, as the fire coursed through him.
Control, but he couldn't frighten Ray away. He sketched the moves necessary in his mind. He ducked his head, around and up to catch Ray's mouth in a quick kiss as he unzipped. He pushed down his jeans and boxers in a single bunch as he skittered further back onto the bed; his cock bobbed free and brushed against the beginning Ray's cheek as Ray licked a trail across the crease at the top of his thigh.
Fraser shifted and aimed himself up at Ray's mouth, but Ray lifted his head at the same time and started crawling up one-handedly, unbuckling his belt with his spare hand.
"You're teasing me," Fraser complained, and started to plan a new set of moves.
"Nah-uh." He grinned and bent to kiss Fraser as he began wriggling his jeans down.
"Oh, you are," Fraser mumbled around his lips, and sat up, pushing Ray so he was kneeling astride him again, bare buttocks on Fraser's bare knees. It didn't give him much of his advantage back, with his jeans tangled around his booted ankles. Ray was in the same boat, but with looser jeans and he was already kicking off his shoes; as he did so, he broke the kiss and ducked down to bite lightly along Fraser's collarbone.
Fraser's instincts shouted at him to pull away, while his body insisted he move closer; he constrained himself to biting his tongue and saying, "T-shirt."
"Uh huh," Ray said, and shoved it up, but only paused in his nipping for a moment as he pushed it over his head. As he continued, he wriggled his jeans off; his socks were already on the floor. "Buttons," he added; Fraser still had a couple done up.
"Uh uh," said Fraser, conceding to his instincts. He slipped out of the way of Ray's teeth, rolling him over. "Boots." With Ray off his legs he could take them off quickly, and catch his breath at the same time, though by now he had little breath to catch. He followed them with the bunched-up jeans.
"You shy of your chest?" Ray asked in amusement; he lay sprawled on his side watching Fraser, looking at the half-buttoned flannel shirt that was now the only piece of clothing between them.
"Saving the best for last," Fraser said; a lame line saved only by his tone of voice and the fact that neither of them much cared right now what was being said. He threw it off and rolled on top of Ray -- there, a moment of perfection of body against body, mouth against mouth, cock against cock; and then back on his back as Ray continued the roll, and his body insisted it wasn't any less perfect while his instincts pointed out quite forcefully that it wasn't the way he'd planned this.
They sat again, Ray astride him again. Ray's hand pulled his hand between them, curled it around Ray's cock and held it there. Fraser's ached for the same touch, but Ray's hand was elusive, and suddenly Ray was asking, "Got any--"
"Yeah," Fraser said; he started reaching towards the sidetable but it was too far out of reach. Ray was closer, so he was the one who opened the drawer. Fraser's heart was pounding in the oddest mixture of apprehension and arousal; as Ray turned back to him their eyes met, and for the briefest moment his instinct saw himself in those gleaming eyes, and *knew* what was going to happen between them in the next few minutes, the next few days, the rest of their lives.
_Get out now!_ his instinct said, but just as quickly the vision disappeared and seemed ridiculous compared to this moment of now with Ray's neck against his, Ray's breath in his hair, Ray's hair on his lips. Half-ridiculous compared to Ray's hands between them, compared to the condom on Ray's cock and the first cool shock of lube in his crack. His whole body was tense with the effort to relax; his neck was arching back as Ray worked in a second finger. Part of him was wondering how to get away without looking stupid; part of him was coolly unworried betcause it was clearly in control; part of him was waiting impatiently for the third finger; none of him was moving except when Ray hooked up his leg to here, shifted his hand to there, lifted his hips just right--
--and _now,_ said his body as Ray slid into him in a single, smooth, stroke. _Now,_ and it didn't matter whether the jitters in his gut were excitement or fear, because with that smooth stroke everything became warm; with the next it all became fire, and he was straining into Ray's belly as Ray strained into him; his mouth tasted metal and his eyes saw into the depths of the galaxies; and then it was over and there was nothing he could do about it anyway.
* * *
He lay silently on his back as Ray lay half on him and half beside him, heavier than he looked, his head on Fraser's collarbone. He'd stopped the biting when Fraser had pushed him off to take off his boots. The thought drifted into his mind at random, but he latched onto it immediately. He had been in control after all.
"Mmm," Ray purred without moving, and Fraser responded with something equally short and meaningless. The room was lit by the streetlights outside, filtered through the windows and reflecting off the ceiling, falling softly on their naked bodies.
He watched Ray fall asleep, and watched him wake up a few hours later. Ray lifted his head and smiled contentedly. "Hi," he said.
"Hello," Fraser said, smiling back. His arm had gone numb under Ray's ribs, but he didn't move it. In the morning he'd have to decide when and how he was going to dump Ray, but for now he could relax in the afterglow of having had him.
Ray laid his head back down on the warm spot of Fraser's chest and snuggled in a little closer to him. "What'll Turnbull say if he finds us here?" he asked, a smirk evident in his voice.
"I have no idea," said Fraser dismissively; he knew he could smooth that over. But thinking of Turnbull arriving in the morning made him think of Thatcher arriving in the morning, and that would not be at all easy to explain away. "Maybe, uh..."
"Yeah." He kissed the collarbone lightly, then rolled away and sat up. "There a shower around here?"
"On the left," said Fraser.
"Thanks." He scooped up his clothes in a bunch as Fraser watched lethargically. "Shall I call you tomorrow?"
_No_ might have been an interesting answer, but Fraser wanted to plan the break-up properly. "Okay," he said instead.
"Okay," Ray agreed, and leaned over to kiss Fraser on the lips one last time before leaving the room.
Fraser lay there listening to the shower, then to the sounds of Ray getting dressed and padding downstairs, letting himself out of the Consulate and driving away. After a while, he roused himself from his lethargy and had his own shower of scalding hot water before going back to the bedroom to tidy up.
* * *
He worked through the morning in an odd way, almost zombie-like, or robot-like, but neither; as if he were on the outside of himself, a stranger trying to figure out who he was. By lunchtime he was thinking about Ray; he hadn't called yet, so Fraser decided to go down to the station to break up with him.
Or maybe not just yet, he thought diffidently. He'd put in a lot of effort to get Ray; why not hang on to him for a while longer? Either way, as the mood took him. Though if Ray wasn't there, was out again on a case, there'd be no harm in leaving a cryptic memo by his computer; something like _Sorry about last night; it won't happen again._
When he arrived, Ray wasn't at his desk; he'd gone to get some paper, Dewey told him. Tom Dewey, the smarmy rake who was certainly due to be taken down a peg or two. But he could do that later, when he was tired with Ray. For now he nodded cheerily and went to the supply closet -- which was, all in all, an auspicious location.
The door was, a little oddly, closed; he opened it. And froze.
Ray and Francesca broke away from what could only be described as a passionate kiss. More than passionate; Francesca was tugging her leather skirt back down over her hips as Ray dropped his hand back to his side. She at least had the grace to look embarrassed. Ray calmly said, "Fraser, could you please not stand there with the door open? There are people around here who think I'm actually her brother."
Fraser hardly heard. He was too busy watching Ray wipe Francesca's lipstick off his mouth with a crumpled handkerchief. How had this happened? Ray was his. *Francesca* was his; she'd never been interested in Ray. Ray was the one who'd had a crush on her, but that had been months ago. Surely--
"Fraser?" Ray repeated.
Francesca glanced between them and smoothed her skirt one last time. "You know, I've, uh, got some things to do," she said, and squeezed out through the small space between Fraser and the doorjamb. If he'd had all his wits about him, he thought numbly, he would have courteously moved out of the way for her.
A moment later, Ray walked out as well, closing the door with one hand and taking Fraser's arm in a firm grip with the other. "You're gaping," he said under his breath.
Fraser shut his mouth. "We need to talk," he said, matching the tone automatically in his confusion.
Ray was already half-leading, half-dragging him outside. "You know, I figured you were going to say that."
"Really." _Think._ He let the corridors move around them, and walked through the door Ray opened. It swung shut behind him, and he took a breath.
Ray leaned against it and opened his eyes wide with expectancy. "So talk."
Fraser scratched his eyebrow. _Think._ But he couldn't; this was too sudden, too unexpected. "Why don't you." It came out harsher than he'd meant it, but then that was only reasonable.
Ray tipped his head. "What do you want me to say?" Still calm. Not smiling; he was solemn; but this wasn't fazing him.
"Well, you could--" He broke off. _Explain?_ No point in advertising his stupidity. Instead he squinted up at the sky and shook his head. "No, you're right," he said. Guilt-trip. Time to think. "There's nothing to say. Nothing--" He scratched his eyebrow again and glanced back at Ray for half the time it took to add, "I should go back to the Consulate." Then he turned and started walking aimlessly away. _Think._ He needed time to think. Time to get the upper hand again.
"Don't bother," Ray called after him.
He turned in surprise. "*What?*" His voice actually cracked, which he would have been more proud of if he'd planned it.
Ray had shifted; he was still leaning on the door, but now it was his arm, above his head, that carried his weight, while his hand rested on the back of his neck. He regarded Fraser frankly, and jerked his chin up a little. "You know what I mean."
"I assure you--"
"Don't give me that crap," Ray said evenly. "You're trying to manipulate me. Like you've been trying to manipulate me from square one. I'm not that stupid, Fraser."
He shook his head. "Ray, I--" Ray was angry. This he could handle. This made sense. He opened his hands. "Is that what this is about? Francesca was just-- You thought I was *manipulating* you?"
Ray ducked his head briefly. "Trying, Fraser. Look." He dropped his arm and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Let's just get to the fast and dirty, okay? You wanted me, for... whatever reason. You tried to manipulate me. I figured, what the hell? So I let you. And it was kinda fun, while it lasted."
Fraser started shaking his head again, and Ray smirked. "Okay, so it was a lot of fun. I mean, you're pretty good, and -- did you really not suspect anything was up?"
"I really don't know what you're talking about," Fraser said roughly.
Ray studied him for several moments, serious again. "Well, if that's the case then that's, uh... not what I meant. But the fact of the thing is, it was fun, but it's over now, so there's no point dwelling on it now. We gotta be friends again. Okay?"
Fraser looked away and blinked. The pollution in the air was making his eyes smart.
Ray walked towards him, holding out his hand. "Friends?"
There was a slight tenseness around his eyes that suggested he cared about that a lot. Fraser didn't move. It was childish, he knew even as he did it. Stupid, even. He had to approach this more calmly -- but, dammit, he was angry. Angry and frustrated.
After a long time Ray dropped his hand again. "Okay," he said. "But the offer stays open. And, uh... if you're interested in Francesca, I can make our break-up pretty messy. Leave you to pick up the pieces."
"I'm not interested in your left-overs," Fraser snapped. Ray cocked an eyebrow in mild scepticism, and he added defensively, "I had her long before you came along."
"I know," Ray said placatingly. "And you could have her again anytime, I know that. That's all I'm saying." There was an awkward pause, then he shifted. "Listen, you're not upset about me and her, are you? Because if you want... I mean, we haven't really done anything yet, so..."
But Francesca wasn't the one Fraser wanted. He sighed silently. "No, you can have her." For now. While he manoeuvred himself into control again.
Ray peered at him. "You're sure?"
"Yeah." He brushed it off with a smile. "I've been thinking about Tom Dewey, anyway."
Ray grinned. "Shouldn't be too hard."
"Just a bit of fun," Fraser agreed. Something to occupy his body while his mind was occupied with the problem of Ray.
"You know, Benton Fraser," Ray said, looking at him thoughtfully, "we're a hell of a lot better as friends than enemies."
Fraser looked away for a moment, then nodded. It'd certainly give him a better chance at getting Ray back than if he was on alert all the time. "Well, then, Ray Kowalski," he said, and put out his hand. "Friends."
"Friends," Ray said, and clasped his hand firmly. Then he clapped Fraser on the back, smiling. "This could be fun too," he added as together they walked back inside.
* * *
The End
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