Ray Kowalski slowly opened his eyes. Slowly, because the filtered light entering his bedroom window was excruciatingly painful. "Damn," he thought (even though it hurt just to think) "I really tied one on last night." Painfully, he sought a more comfortable position on the rock hard pillow for his abused head.

"Don't .. don't move, please" came the plea from someone else in the bed.

Ray slowly opened his eyes again to see just who sleeping in the bed with him. Slowly focusing, he realized that it was Benton Fraser. Gradually he began to remember what had happened the night before, at least he thought he was remembering. It was hard to think with a hangover the size of New York City.

. . . . . . . . . .

He and Fraser had been watching a basketball game. Ray had had a couple of beers and was feeling really relaxed and mellow. He remembered offering one to Fraser.

"I only drink the obligatory toast to Her Majesty" had been Fraser's reply.

"Well, Benton Buddy, 's'ok if you toas' the lady here. C'mon. Jus' one. One ain't gonna hurt."

Ray had been a little surprised when Fraser had accepted that invitation, but accept he did.

Now, Fraser was not a drinking man. But one 'to Her Majesty' had led to one 'to the President' and more of the same. Things got a little hazy at that point. It wasn't long before Fraser was giggling and going "to you, Ray."

Ray responded with an equally silly "to you, B. Buddy."

In record time the basketball game was forgotten, neither of them being able to concentrate. "Le's see wha' else's on the old boob tube" Ray said and he started flipping through the channels with the remote control. ( A measure of how truly tipsy he was getting as he was a number one Bulls fan.) One of the cable channels was showing the movie 'Shakespeare in Love'. Ray put the remote down.

"I saw thisss one at the movies. 'S' kinda cute. Ya see, Frase, she's a she. O'ly makin' like a he to do this play. An' Will there, he don't know. Oh, watch now. She's gonna kiss 'im. But he don' know she's a she. Damn funny."

Leaning back against the couch, Ray took another sip of his beer and sighed deeply mumbling "Tha' other guy, Bill or Bob or Ben on somethin'. Damn, he's cute." With that remark, Ray slowly slid his hand down the front of his jeans.

Fraser's first reaction was to stare in fascination as Ray slowly massaged himself through the rough denim of his jeans. But this was a Ray that Fraser had never seen and modesty required that he glance away. It became more and more difficult, however, to look away when Ray was starting to make noticeably moaning noises and muttering 'oh, yeah, baby'.

Deciding that it was probably best to leave, and the walk to the Consulate should help clear his suddenly fuzzy head, Fraser stood up. Well, he tried to stand up. "Oh, dear" he thought as he overbalanced and started to fall. Indeed, he would have fallen if he had not been caught on the way down by Ray. Well, caught hardly describes what happened, as Ray was none too steady on his feet either. But that's not important. What is important (in the context of this story) is that Fraser ended up mostly on the couch with Ray sprawled across him. Truly across him . . chest to chest, groin to groin, face to face. (You get the idea.)

"Hey, Frase, Benton Buddy Buddy, ever wonder what it's like to kiss a guy?" Ray asked suddenly.

Trying to be as articulate as possible, which is difficult when one has imbibed a tad too much, Fraser replied "Why no, Ray. Once Ray Vecchio, not you, the other one, said he wanted to kiss me. But he didn't really mean it."

Ray noticed that Fraser sounded just a little disappointed.

"Lemme rec...recti....fix that" he said and planted a very wet kiss on Fraser's lips.

Suffice it to say that the movie went the way of the basketball game. Dieffenbaker tried to find a soundproof area in which to sleep. Failing to do so, he attempted to cover his ears against the sounds that carried from the living room to the bedroom.

. . . . . . . . . .

Fraser slowly eased his aching body over onto his back. Maybe the room would stop spinning if he would just lie still. Maybe his stomach would stop churning. Maybe his headache would go away.

"Ray?" he managed to whisper, "Do you feel as miserable as I do?"

"Yeah, Frase" Ray whispered back. "Guess we had just a little too much to drink last night."

"Ray? Do you remember what happened?"

"Uh, I think so."

"Ray? Did we?"

"I'm not sure that I remember exactly, Frase. Did we?"

"Well, Ray, my olfactory nerves tell me that there is the definite aroma of, well, spent semen, permeating the entire room."

"So, Frase, are you saying that we did?"

"Well, Ray, that, plus the fact the fact that I feel a definite level of discomfort in my anal area would be evidence enough that we might have possibly indulged in a little sexual activity."

"Do ya think we enjoyed it?"

"Ray, please, don't yell. I don't know. Maybe."

"Do ya think we could try again, just to find out."

"That is a possibility, Ray. But do you think that we could wait until we're feeling just a little better?"

"Oh yeah, Frase. Better would be good. 'Cause if we did do what we think we did, and if we liked it, I wanna try it when my stomach doesn't want to heave a week worth of fast food out the window."

Which comment sent Benton Fraser running toward the bathroom, hand over mouth, trying desperately not to soil the ragged carpet in Ray's bedroom.