Disclaimers: Neither the Boys nor the wolf are mine. I just borrow them for fun, not profit.
Notes: Thanks to Mouse and Nicole for stupendous beta. Any mistakes
are mine.
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Ray just kissed me. Well, that was rather unexpected. Although... maybe it shouldn't have been such a surprise. Ray has always been impulsive, right from our very first meeting when he hugged me, quickly but very warmly. Even as I was wondering why on earth this man was claiming to be Ray Vecchio when he was obviously nothing of the kind, I couldn't help but notice the strength and warmth of his embrace. Hmm, I mentioned warmth twice. I don't believe I realized how much I value Ray's emotional... openness, before now. It's not always obvious, because as Ray has said of himself, he's a poet on the inside, but his exterior is that of a tough guy. I believe it is protective coloration for a man who is quite sensitive in a career where sensitivity must be tempered with strength and a certain amount of cynicism.
Ray thinks that I'm not cynical enough, thinks I'm too trusting and... well, innocent. I'm far from innocent, but I do tend to trust people until they have proven themselves untrustworthy, superficially at least. In matters of the heart, trust is much harder to bestow, because it hurts so much to have it broken. Even my friends I keep at arm's length... well, not Ray, of course. So it's kind of funny that he thinks I'm the open one because I can say freely that he is my friend and I trust him while the words don't come from him as easily. The feelings come to him-- he's just been conditioned not to say them. I, on the other hand, have more trouble forming attachments, but have no qualms about saying so when it happens, especially to someone like Ray. He has been a special case all along, a fact that has caused me no end of sleepless nights. Oddly, Dad has been silent on the subject, except on a few occasions when he pointed out that I needed "the Yank". Well, you had no idea how true those words were, did you Dad?
Yes, it's true, I need Ray Kowalski like I need my next breath. He finally kissed me, and I was too stunned to react. And now, he's walking away from me... like the others that have left or died on me. I should be devastated as usual. I gave my heart to someone who is now leaving me, and it's an all too familiar scenario.
I watch him striding down the alleyway, all energy and sensual grace. While I'm mesmerized by his every movement, I'm not heartbroken by his leaving. This time is so much different, because I know-- I *know*-- with every fiber of my being that Ray will come back. He may be impulsive, but he's also very loyal. Hurting another person--a friend-- goes against everything he stands for, everything he *is*. When he hit me that day by the lake, I could see the pain in his eyes, even as I cradled my own pain and frustration to my chest. Our time on the Henry Allen taught me so many things, not the least of which was that I need Ray and Ray needs me. We are friends, partners... a duet.
Ray Kowalski is unlike Ray Vecchio in more ways than just the physical. Ray Vecchio had a strength and sense of self that was always slightly baffling to me. Yes, I know who I am, but I often question my place in the scheme of things-- the precinct, the city of Chicago, the lives of the people around me. Ray Kowalski, on the other hand, doesn't have that self-assurance. If I had stayed in Canada, Ray Vecchio would have gone on with his life, his big close-knit family and his job as a detective remaining the center of his life. Ray Kowalski would also go on without me, but it would be a lonely life. He seems closer to me than to his parents, although the relationship seems to be improving since his parents moved back from Arizona. While he has a good working relationship with the men and women at the 27th precinct, he hasn't formed any deep friendships with them. They are colleagues, nothing more and nothing less.
Listen to me babbling on about Ray's isolation when it is my own I should be concerned with. I've formed no close attachments to the people I work with either at the Consulate or at the Chicago Police Department. I've narrowly avoided getting closer to Inspector Thatcher because, although I do hold her in high esteem, she is my superior officer. I do believe our divergent natures would have made a romantic liaison difficult, to say the least. And while Francesca is a lovely woman, I have always been unable to return the affection she seems to feel for me. Although my initial discomfort and shock at her boldness has lessened somewhat, I've continued to "play dumb", as it were, in order to avoid hurting her feelings. Turnbull has a spot of hero worship for me that is flattering, yet not a foundation for friendship. The Lieutenant and the detectives tolerate my presence because I help them solve cases. So it is that I have a deaf wolf and my father's ghost for my closest companions...
...And Ray for my best friend. If I had taken that transfer to Ottawa, my life would have become a bleak and lonely place. I need Ray to give my life some color and joy. I am sorry that I annoy him sometimes, but he is just as stubborn as he claims I am, so the annoyance goes both ways. If he has decided that kissing is the best way to end an argument, I may have to pick a fight everyday, just to get more of his kisses.
It was over much too soon, and truthfully, I didn't actually participate that much, but that kiss is etched into my memory like the RCMP handbook or Milton's "Paradise Lost." The feel of Ray's lips--so hot and wild-- pressed against mine, the imprint of a brief caress forever burning like a candle in my self-imposed emotional darkness... Well, all romantic nonsense aside, I shall always remember the moment, just like I remember the moment on the Henry Allen when I pressed my lips to Ray's and gave him a bit of my air. Yes, it was to save his life just as I later assured him, but I did get an emotional satisfaction out of it that has given me quite a few very interesting dreams at night.
Ray stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder at me-- a questioning, measuring look that makes me worry about what he sees in my face...in me. As he turns and starts to walk back toward me, I don't worry any more. I want him to see this happiness that he gives me. I want him to see me--*me*, Benton Fraser, not the perfect Mountie facade. I can feel the smile growing on my face, and then Ray suddenly picks up speed. I grin at him-- a full-fledged grin that gives more of my self than I've given anyone in a long time. It's another side of what I gave Victoria--the light instead of the dark. Can he see? Does he know? Does he get what I'm offering?
"Ray." I feel his name in every part of me. It's a lovely, soothing sound that sends a tingle down my spine.
"Fraser." He has stopped a mere foot away from me and is watching me carefully and... Is that hope I see in his wary blue eyes?
"Yes, Ray." I encourage him to speak because I'm not sure what I want to say first. There's so much inside me that wants to get out. I know I look foolish, grinning at him wordlessly, but I'm just so relieved that he proved me right and came back. He came back to me. To me.
"Fraser, I... I'm sorry." With just those four stuttered words, I feel a coldness creeping over me. Could I have been wrong after all? Ray has a basic consideration for other people that prevents him from being cruel, even in moments of thoughtlessness. Is that what this is? He feels a need to apologize, because he somehow knows what his kiss meant to me but it didn't mean the same to him?
Just before I freeze up completely, he quickly assures me, "Not for kissing you." And I can feel the warmth of the setting sun once again. It glows on his face, giving each line and angle a luminous beauty. The golden-orange light sparkles off the rebellious spikes of his hair and I smile again at my own foolish romanticizing, and in defiance of that same foolishness.
For lack of more intelligent comment, I ask, "What are you sorry for, Ray?"
"I'm sorry for being stubborn and argumentative." He wearing that look that says he knows exactly what he's doing. My Ray is more clever than he'd like to let on most of the time. He wants people to underestimate him, and they often do. But I think I know him by now.
"I think that should have been my line."
That toothy grin could melt the staunchest opponent. I'm instantly lost, as he concedes the argument, and I hurry to do the same. It's the least I can do. After a moment, I feel I should give him something else so I add, "Compromise is important in a partnership...and in friendship."
"So, are we still friends? You gonna forget about my... indiscretion?"
"No, Ray, I'm afraid I can't do that." I step into his personal space, and I can feel his warmth as I whisper, "Will you do it again?"
I breathe in his "yes" as our lips meet in another kiss, this one holding nothing back. I ease my tongue between his lips, touching his briefly in an unbearable tease. His taste is instantly imprinted in my brain. I will die knowing what Ray tastes like, but I must have more. I take him into my arms so that I'll also have the feel of him memorized.
His slender frame is deceptive, because he's very strong and his arms squeeze me with a strength that offers many sensual promises. Perhaps I have found a lover who will be able to understand-- withstand-- the full depth of the passion that I've kept so closely confined for so long. A light shudder goes through me as I realize that Ray will most likely meet me half way, once we've broken the restraints that have held us back.
I push at the wall of my self-control again as I bury my face in his neck, inhaling his scent and nuzzling at the smooth, soft skin under his ear. I know that I'm memorizing his every feature as if I'll never see him again, but I can't seem to stop myself. He smells of faded aftershave and leather, even though he's not wearing his leather jacket--must be his shoulder holster. I can also detect the fragrances of fabric softener and spray starch, because his mother's been doing his shirts again. I could happily drown in all the different aromas that make up the unique Ray-scent that goes straight to my groin, having an unseemly effect on my uniform. Thank goodness the tunic is long enough to cover my reaction.
As I pull back, Ray's hands are gripping my shoulders, probably crushing my epaulets, but I don't care. I drop one more kiss on his lips, and then step back a bit. His eyes open slowly, and they're clouded with arousal for a moment. "Well..." He nods and his eyes start to twinkle as he rubs a fingertip over the spot under his ear that I was just... admiring. His voice is low and husky as he asks, "Got anything else you want to fight about?"
"Maybe if we went to your apartment, I could think of something." I smile innocently at the look of shock on his face. My boldness has caught him off guard, and I watch him fit this new piece of the puzzle into his view of me. He does it quite quickly, so maybe he does know the real me after all.
I hope so, because there is much more that I'd like to show him. But that's a sentiment I don't dare share with Ray right now. He's had enough of a shock for the time being. When he gets settled, I will let him know how I really feel, and there's nothing symbolic about it.
All this time, Diefenbaker has been lounging on a pile of cardboard as if our dramatics were all for his personal amusement. Slowly rising to his feet, he wags his tail and yawns widely, as if to say, "It's about time." And I couldn't agree more.
The End.