Part 1 The Wolf

By Anam71

March 2000

NC-17 for M/M slash, angst, love, AU, H/C and all that other stuff.

A drama/romance/angst fest featuring Fraser and Vecchio and that bitch Victoria.

Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, so don’t sue me, please. They belong to Alliance. No copyright violation is intended and I’m making no profit from this story!

E-mail me at: [email protected]

As the creeper that girdles the tree-

trunk, the Law runneth forward

and back-

For the strength of the Pack is the

Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf

is the Pack.

-Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936), from The Law of the Jungle.

(In this story, I also quote the writer Elizabeth Bowen… but I can’t remember where I got it, so don’t sue me, I’m senile!)

The nights never slip by quickly enough: a prime law in a police stakeout.

"Hey, Vecchio! Wake up sleeping beauty." Huey’s voice crackled over the radio speaker, breaking the silent calm in the Riv. The detective and the Mountie jumped slightly at the noise.

"Go ahead, Jack," Ray answered swiftly. Fraser shifted in his passenger seat in response to a stiff back and he tugged at his worn leather jacket.

"This clown is never going to show up. I think we should call it a night. Shit, let’s call it a morning." The sky was turning a dull, slate-gray with the approaching sunrise and Huey was bone tired, along with his partner Dewey at his side.

"Yeah, you’re right, Jack. I think we got a bum lead on this one. Let’s call it."

*Damn.* Ray had wanted this guy for a long time; a two-bit drug dealer who roamed the docks like a predator and who also avoided his parole officer with equal audacity. They had a lead on a deal that was supposed to go down tonight, but this wasn’t the first time a stakeout went bust.

Ray glanced at Fraser and shrugged meekly at their loss.

Ray turned on the ignition with a flick of his wrist and the Riv purred in answer. He put her into drive and the classic car eased her way down the narrow street buffeted on either side by abandoned warehouses and broken glass.

Huey drove his old car slowly forward to meet up with the Riv. Ray rolled down his window and Huey imitated the action.

"Well, Jack, same time same place?" Ray called out.

"As much as I want to keep that date with you, sweetheart, I doubt that Welsh will want to support another stakeout for this asshole," Huey answered with a sigh.

"I believe you’re right on that one, honey. Welsh will be one pissed off cop." Ray yawned. He certainly wasn’t up to another round of hen pecking by the old police lieutenant, not after a long and tedious night.

"Hey, Vecchio, I’ll go down to the station and file the report since you did it for the last stakeout. You can just go straight home," Huey offered.

Dewey made a grim face. He was tired too and wanted to go nowhere near the precinct today.

"Thanks, Jack, it feels like I’ve been on duty non-stop for a week."

"Well, in that case, Vecchio, I’ll tell Welsh you requested a double shift for today."

"Yeah, yeah, Jack. Way funny." Ray’s neck started to hurt with his heavy weariness. He had been sitting up too long now and couldn’t wait to hit his bed.

"Go home, Ray. Night, Fraser." Huey began to roll up his window.

"Goodnight, Detective Huey, Detective Dewey." Fraser responded and nodded politely.

Both cars finally separated into the looming blackness of early morning.

The Riv drifted at a sluggish pace along the empty Chicago streets. Ray was too tired to violate any traffic laws and Fraser was too tired to notice.

"Sorry about that, Benny." Ray shrugged again, his slim hands nimbly handling the steering wheel.

Fraser looked at his partner’s face, the gloomy dawn making his features hard and sharp and darkly lined like a Dürer etching.

"Sorry for what, Ray?"

"Oh, for dragging you out for that stakeout. Jeez, I thought it was the sure thing. Instead, I wasted your time and you got no sleep. It just makes your job harder at the consulate."

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Ray. I am happy to assist you in anyway. And the stakeout was quite interesting, in some aspects." Fraser gazed out the passenger window, actually meaning every word he said to his friend.

"Really, Benny? Interesting? You don’t get out much, do you?" Ray laughed at him. He sometimes couldn’t believe what came out of that Mountie’s mouth.

Fraser now shrugged. "I guess you’re right, Ray."

A moment of silence.

"You’re tired, Benny? You look tired. Will you be able to work today?" Ray was now concerned, for the Mountie was known for his endless stamina, but Fraser couldn’t hide his exhaustion from him this time.

"I’m a little tired, but it doesn’t require much energy or thought to stand sentry duty, Ray."

Fraser felt guilty that Ray was now feeling guilty for needing his company. Ray really didn’t understand how much Fraser needed to be Ray’s unofficial partner. That need defined his existence in Chicago.

Without Ray, Fraser’s life would consist of nothing but pulling endless guard duty, xeroxing endless files, and counting an endless number of paper clips. Inspector Margaret Thatcher failed to see, or actually failed to care about Fraser’s potential as an adept law-enforcer. Without Ray, Fraser wasn’t really a Mountie at all, but more like an errand boy. He had needed Ray as his partner, no doubt about that.

Now that need went beyond all that, beyond what Fraser could ever dream possible.

He loved Ray.

How can he tell Ray such a thing? His best friend, the fiercely Italian-Catholic heterosexual Chicago cop once divorced man of the house. Fraser can never reveal to his friend what he really wanted from him, what he ached for, that heavy hunger inside him, an aching hunger for his best friend.

A quote by the writer Elizabeth Bowen he had once read now reminded Fraser of his sad dilemma: ‘Nobody speaks the truth when there’s something they must have.’

The truth was eating a hole in his soul.

"Do I hear a hint of dissatisfaction with your job, Benny?" Ray caught the ever so slight turn in Fraser’s voice that signaled some sort of off-balance in that equilibrium the Mountie had always sought to maintain.

"No, not at all, Ray. I’m just stating the fact that some of the duties required of my service at the consulate do not involve much physical or mental exertion." The Mountie pulled himself up in his seat and set his jaw more firmly to prove his point.

"Okay, Benny. That’s fine by me."

Ray didn’t bother to pursue the matter any further. He was too busy struggling to keep his weary eyes open.

For the past few weeks, Fraser seemed to be a little off and a little odd. Well, odd for Benny, anyway.

Ray, on few occasions, tried to push the Mountie to reveal the source of his trouble, but Fraser would always dodge the issue with some lame excuse and set his face into that expressionless Mountie mask, stone-cold and streamlined. Knowing Fraser these past three years had taught Ray one thing: that the Mountie could be a real royal pain in the ass.

Jeez! Ray thought. They were practically brothers. Benny can tell him anything.

The Chicago sky became bloody dull with orange-red hues as the winter sun ascended, the city streets still coming to life. The little shops beginning to open up for morning business and like clockwork, Ray’s head started to throb dully with a headache that can only be cured by a large cup of steaming coffee, his need for caffeine now far outweighing his need for sleep.

As if on cue, that small but familiar diner materialized up ahead.

Fraser’s breath got caught in his throat as the diner came into view, that diner he first went to as a lost soul tracking his father’s killer, alone in a big, heartless American city with only his father’s journals to keep him company. Until his friend Ray showed up.

The detective came to him, not out of pity, but in empathy, the knowledge shared between two men whose fathers didn’t adequately provide them what they needed. At first tentative glances and then Ray opened up, revealing how he always felt like failure to his father, and Fraser, all he had were his father’s journals.

How on earth did Ray find him in that diner? There must be dozens, no, hundreds of diners in Chicago. Fraser had always wanted to ask Ray how he found him there, but decided not to. It was more pleasant to think that Ray had some sort of Mountie-distress–homing-device in his head.

Ray glanced over to Fraser and saw the faint smile on the Mountie lips. He became aware that Fraser was staring at the diner.

"Hey, Benny. Want to go for some coffee?" This may hopefully cheer Benny up. The poor guy really needed it.

"Actually, Ray, I usually drink tea, as you well know, and I thought…"

"Jeez, Benny! Tea, coffee, tequila shooters, whatever! Let’s just stop and get something to drink. Don’t you want to?" Ray shook his head in weary frustration.

"Yes, Ray, I do. What I was going to say is I thought you wanted to go straight home and…"

"Well, not yet, Benny. Ma, Frannie and everybody else will be up by now and I don’t feel like dealing with any of them. Besides, there probably be no coffee left when I get there, what with Tony inhaling everything in site in the damn kitchen."

"Okay, Ray." Fraser smiled softly, and the Riv pulled up to the curve across the dimly lit diner.

Ray tuned the ignition off and yawned loudly. He moved his head from side to side and winced.

"Ray?" Fraser silently observed this display of discomfort from his friend.

"Oh, it’s nothing Benny. My neck hurts. Probably from sitting up all night."

"It could be a sign of work-related stress and a unhealthy diet, Ray…"

"Shit! Thanks a lot, Doctor Frasier." Ray grimaced and winced again. "I’ll just take an aspirin when I get home."

"The muscles in your neck and upper back may only be tense and need to be loosened up in order to stop the pain. A massage may prove to be more beneficial than resorting to the use of drugs to cure your discomfort."

That was Fraser, trying to be helpful in his own weird way.

"Drugs? Damn it, Benny. I said I’d take aspirin, not heroin." Ray made an annoyed face.

"Here, Ray, let me show you." Fraser then reached his hands over and placed them gently on the nape of Ray’s neck.

"Benny?" Ray was slightly alarmed at the sudden physical contact and his body instantly became a tight coil. He gripped the steering wheel like a raptor, his knuckles becoming white.

"Trust me, Ray, this should work." Fraser began to press and knead his fingertips into Ray’s sore neck. The muscles under his fingers were stiff and hard, and needed some serious attention.

Ray gasped and he began to gradually relax as the Mountie worked on him thoroughly.

"Ray, the muscles in your neck are very tense. And I’m pretty sure that the muscles in your upper back may be tense as well." Fraser applied more pressure to help his friend.

Ray slumped forward in his seat as he became comfortable, his forehead now resting lightly on the steering wheel. His hands slipped free from their taut grip on the steering wheel to land softly in his lap.

"Benny." Ray whispered with a delicate moan.

Fraser heard it, closed his eyes, and stopped his hands as he realized the beginnings of a slow burn in his groin, suddenly sparked from that soft, whispered plea from the cop. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

What the hell was he thinking of, touching Ray like this? He had better regain his self-control before Ray discovered his… his aroused state.

"Ray?" Fraser moved his hands slightly. "Ray?"

No response.

Ray was asleep, his breathing steady and soft with his forehead pressed hard against the steering wheel.

Fraser breathed out. *God.*

Touching Ray like this was so incredible that he couldn’t remove his hands from that slender neck for the world. He had often thought about it, about touching Ray with his very own hands. There was little else to think about during sentry duty. He had thought about it a little too much.

So he decided to continue with the massage for just a moment longer, no harm in that?

His fingers stroked up and down the velvety skin of Ray’s neck gently, tracing that sweet curve up to the peach-fuzz hair that tickled lightly under his fingertips. His hands then slipped down that long graceful neck to brush the fine silk collar of Ray’s shirt.

The pleasant journey of Fraser’s hands down Ray’s shoulders was rudely interrupted by the thick, heavy bulk of a bulletproof vest. So Fraser resumed his tender caress of his friend’s neck, and he suddenly froze when he saw a passerby hurry down the street. The stranger just went on by, not noticing what transpired in the classic car.

Fraser snapped out of his trance, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest for touching Ray in such an impolite manner. He didn’t have the right to touch him, to take advantage of his friend who trusted him with his very life.

Fraser’s pulled his hands away and dropped them onto his lap. He closed his eyes and tried to regain the self-control that he had depended so much on for being a loyal member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. It was a losing battle not to touch Ray…

Fraser’s head jerked up. Did he just fall asleep too? He pulled himself up and glanced over to his partner.

Ray was still in dreamland, his back hunched over with his forehead pressed heavily on the steering wheel. It looked quite uncomfortable and was probably doing no good for an already stiff neck being stooped over like that. It would have been comical considering the circumstances.

Fraser’s left hand cupped the back of Ray’s smooth head timidly and his right hand slipped under the bent body to press flat against Ray’s chest. He can still feel the beating heart, although muffled under the bulk of that bulletproof vest.

With his hands, he gently pushed his friend’s body back against the driver’s seat of the car.

Ray didn’t even stir.

The Mountie stared at his sleeping partner intently, the smooth. shaven head now resting softly on his left hand. Breaths steady and sure were escaping from Ray’s lips and Fraser’s thumb moved gently now, doing baby small strokes against the bristle hair.

He studied that long neck again, so vulnerable now with Ray’s head slightly bent back against his hand, and the prominent bulge of that Adam’s apple that would fit so perfectly into Fraser’s mouth.

*This is heaven to no one else but me.*

*Control, control, control, where’s your self-control?*

He removed his hands quickly, but cautiously, from Ray’s person. The detective shifted slightly and mumbled something.

"Ray?" Fraser shook his friend’s shoulder, having to touch him again.

"Ray? Wake up, Ray."

"What?" Ray finally dragged himself into the world of the living and he glanced at Fraser with sleepy hazel eyes.

Fraser answered the question that Ray didn’t ask. "You fell asleep, Ray."

"I was sleeping? You let me fall asleep, Fraser? Jeez." Ray stretched out his sinewy arms and yawned. "Damn."

"Sorry, Ray. You still want to go for coffee?"

Did Fraser seem a little anxious? Ray felt guilty now. Benny probably didn’t mean for him to doze off like that. Hell, he was tired anyway.

"Hey, Benny. It’s okay, no problem. I can probably sleep while standing on my head. Let’s just go for that coffee." Ray smiled, opened the car door and slipped out gracefully.

Fraser climbed out, closed the car door smartly and firmly placed his stetson on his head, his fingertips lightly skimming the brim out of habit.

"What the fuck?" Ray shouted, staring wide-eyed into his car door window.

"What is it, Ray?" Fraser was alarmed at his friend’s outburst.

"What’s this?" Ray was pointing to his head now.

Fraser could barely make out the faint impression of the steering wheel on Ray’s otherwise smooth forehead.

"Uh, I’m not sure…um…Ray." Fraser felt hot under his stetson with his little fib.

The detective was skeptical. "You sure, Benny?" Ray glared at his reflection in the car door window and rubbed his forehead furiously with a slender hand.

Fraser shrugged and pursed his lips to keep from laughing.

"Hey, Benny. My neck still hurts."

Both men crossed the street and Ray’s limber stride was a little longer than Fraser had expected. He had to hurry to catch up, his motion finally matching that of Ray’s and they were now at the glass metal-framed door of the diner. Fraser opened the door politely for his partner, and Ray glided by quietly. Fortunately, the streets were still empty, and so no patrons were available for Fraser to act as a doorman for.

Both men sat at the same table they both occupied so long ago. Actually, the diner was empty and there were many tables to choose from, but still…

A middle age woman with her blond hair up in a painfully tight bun came over to their table. "What can I get you guys?"

"I’ll have a coffee, cream and sugar." Ray yawned again, and tugged at his dark gray overcoat.

"I’ll have tea, please." Fraser looked up with his usual politeness.

"Sure thing." She left the men alone.

"So, what’s up Benny? What’s going on under that pelt of yours?" Ray was now more alert after that short nap, and he was ready to tackle the mystery of Fraser’s strange behavior these past few weeks.

The Mountie tensed up; this was quite unexpected. "Um, nothing is up, Ray. Why do you ask?"

Ray scowled. "Come on Fraser, this is Ray you’re talking to. What’s going on?"

"I assure you, Ray, nothing is wrong." Why did Ray have to do this now? Why can’t they just enjoy their beverages and get on with their lives?

"Are you sure nothing is wrong with you?" Ray was very getting annoyed now.

"No, Ray. I am fine. I have never been better. Thank you." Fraser was now getting annoyed too.

"You’re not sick, are you? Uh? Are you queasy, achy, gassy, nauseous, nervous, neurotic, psychotic? Uh? Uh?" Ray was being sarcastic; his need for caffeine and sleep making him irritable.

"Ray, please. There is nothing wrong," Fraser pleaded.

He was slightly hurt by Ray’s cynical comments. Well, his friend was clearly frustrated and probably had every right to be taunting him. But Fraser could not just come out and tell Ray that he… that he… that he was in love with… oh, what a mess!

Ray, ever so perceptive, picked up Fraser’s quiet distress.

"I’m sorry, Benny. I didn’t mean to be such a prick. It’s just, well, ya know, we’re best friends, right? You can tell me anything, right?" Ray bowed his head, and he blandly studied his hands now resting lightly on the greasy table.

Fraser felt a culpable stab to his chest, and he too was staring at those slender, cultivated hands with fingers so long and fine. How would those hands feel on his face, his bare shoulders, his stomach, and his thighs?

"Ray, I didn’t mean to…"

"Here you go guys! One coffee, and one tea." The woman with the tight bun placed the steaming cups gingerly on the table, and was now staring at Ray’s face. "What’s that on your forehead?"

"Can ya just get us some more sugar packets?" Ray snapped.

The woman turned away in a huff.

"Uh, thank you, kindly," Fraser called out to angry woman.

"What were ya gonna say, Benny?" Ray picked up a spoon and stirred some cream into his cup.

"Ray, I’m sorry. I know you mean well. It means a lot to me, our friendship. I assure you, if I had any problems I would tell you, Ray. I promise." Another fib out of his mouth and Fraser sipped his tea politely.

Ray smiled weakly. "It’s okay, Benny. No worries here."

Maybe there was really nothing wrong with the Mountie after all.

*Nah!* Benny has been acting too weird lately. But the guy jumps out of windows only to land on top of speeding vans. The guy was weird, in a heroic, reckless, and endearing sort of way. Maybe the guy was just homesick. That could be it, and he was too embarrassed to admit it.

Benny should really go on vacation and go up north to Canada. Maybe go to his father’s cabin and fix it up a bit. Maybe the dragon lady should let him take leave. Hell, Ray would even go up with him if he wanted, the guy said he had two axes.

Moments of silence followed. This was usually the norm between the two close friends who were so comfortable with each other, but now this silence seemed to be strained, and a little peculiar.

More weird silence now, with the exception of Ray tapping his fingers on the table and Fraser politely clearing his throat. Ray was near ready to dump his hot coffee on his head and scream bloody murder.

Ray shifted in his seat, uncomfortable but very determined. "Hey, Benny. You busy Saturday?" Ray already knew the answer to that one, but he decided to take a shot at this politeness crap.

"Why, no, Ray." Fraser sipped his tea, sensing an invitation to yet another Vecchio family dinner.

"Well, Benny, Ma is trying out this new recipe for some Sicilian dish she got from Aunt Rita. Supposed to be good recipe, but everything Ma makes is pretty good. So ya wanna come? Don’t worry. Frannie won’t be there to maul you. She’s going to some dumb party or something."

"Yes, Ray. I would be honored. Thank you kindly." Fraser felt himself relax slightly as the old familiar by-play between him and Ray returned. This was much better now, and he sipped his tea with more ease.

"But I’ll have to go shopping at the market to pick up the ingredients for Ma. Hey, I’ll take you with me? You can sniff and poke the meat and tomatoes and stuff. God, I wish Ma…"

Fraser’s head jerked up quickly as he heard the distant sound of gunshots outside the diner.

"…would get Frannie to do some of the grocery shopping for a change. Feels like I practically live at the market. I’m always there getting food and crap all the time." Ray gulped his coffee and rubbed his sore neck. "I keep telling Ma she should get…"

"Ray! Did you not hear the gunshots?" Fraser sat up straight in his seat, grabbing his stetson.

"Yeah, I heard it. So, I tell Ma she should…"

"Ray! Do you not think we should investigate the source of that gunfire?" Fraser was now on his feet, flipping his stetson over onto his head.

"No, Frasier! I don’t think we should investigate. I’m off duty, I’m tired, I don’t have backup, and I don’t gives a shit. Gunplay in this neighborhood is considered a recreational sport. And besides, some uniform will probably pick up on the call." Ray was rubbing his aching temples with his hands, already knowing what was coming, preparing for the inevitable.

"Ray, I think it is necessary we investigate the source of those gunshots…" Fraser was already out the door.

Ray hissed, got up, threw three bucks on the table, and stomped angrily out of the diner after the Canadian.

"Wait up, Fraser!"

The Mountie was scanning the dark street, and for an odd moment, he seemed to be sniffing the air like a bloodhound. Before Ray can reach his friend’s side, Fraser took off like a shot down the sidewalk, running hard like he was in the Olympics trying to win the gold for team Canada.

"Fraser! Wait! At least let me call for backup!" Ray shouted after his partner while whipping out his cell phone and running as fast as he can to catch up.

*Damn! Damn! Double Damn! I’m off duty! Why me? Oh, Lord why? I hate myself! Shit!* Ray ran through a litany of expletives in his head while punching numbers into his cell phone for the 27^th precinct to get backup.

Ray had to slow down his pace in order to notify the operator that he was in pursuit of… Jeez, he didn’t know who or what he was pursuing! The Mountie? He was pursuing the Mountie who was pursuing the sounds of gunshots, coming from God knows where? And from God knows who?

Ray reported what he could into his cell phone while breathing hard, and had to repeat himself twice, his speech badly garbled from being out of breath. *Damn!*

Fraser spotted instantly a small group of agitated teenage boys on the corner of the street arguing under a dimly lit streetlight. The kids dispersed like blowing leaves, running in all different directions when they saw the running Mountie heading their way.

One was finally left standing under the streetlight, a kid with a Cubs baseball cap on his head and a gun in his hand. He had a mild look of shock on his face when he finally noticed Fraser, and then he spun around and ran.

"Stop! Please!" Fraser shouted after the retreating figure. It was only a kid, obviously in some kind of trouble. Maybe Fraser can be of some help to him.

"FUCK OFF!" The figure shouted over his shoulder, and quickened his pace down the hard pavement.

The Mountie easily matched the pace and was rapidly gaining on his quarry. "Stop now!"

The disturbed youth quickly stopped dead in his tracks, twisted around, and fired off his weapon in Fraser’s direction.

Fraser was quick enough to dodge the bullet by dropping onto his chest against the cold pavement, hearing the bullet whizzing by overhead… and he was instantly on his feet again, breaking into a full sprint after the offender with more determination than ever.

The kid u-turned quickly into a dark alleyway and the Mountie finally caught up, stopping near the end of an old gutted shop.

Fraser peeked carefully around the corner and could not see a trace of the youth anywhere. He stepped into the black alleyway, and gingerly followed the narrow, dark path littered with garbage, broken glass, and boxes. "I have no wish to do you harm. I’m here to be of assistance, if you only come out!" Fraser called out in a calm and reassuring voice.

He got no answer.

Fraser finally reached the end of the alleyway to find a tall metal gate. It had a gaping hole just large enough for a small body to slip through. He now looked beyond that gate to see several more blocks looming up ahead, holding countless dismal alleyways and empty buildings.

Fraser sighed and shook his head. He had lost his prey. The pursuit was over. This was not a usual occurrence for him and his pride was somewhat slighted. He brushed off his leather jacket and denim jeans, and he straightened his stetson. Too bad Deif wasn’t with him. Then he could track down… speaking of Deif, where was Ray?

Fraser headed towards the entrance of the alleyway, steeling himself for Ray’s inevitable ranting and raving. Now that he was coming out empty-handed, and what with Ray being so exhausted from an overnight stakeout gone bust, Fraser could only expect nothing less than a volcano of shouts and complaints.

Fortunately for Fraser, Ray would usually let up in the end, and usually accept, and even support, the dramatic actions of his unofficial partner. Ray was made that way, luckily for the Mountie.

Fraser turned the corner and was surprised when he found no sign of Ray anywhere down the gloomy street. Fraser swore he heard the detective running after him, shouting after him. He could always depend on Ray to be there for him. Maybe Ray went back to the Riv to radio in their chase.

"Hmm?" Fraser’s stride slowed as he perceived a dark huddled mass lying in the gutter forty yards ahead.

The Mountie continued his pace towards this strange heap in the road, and stopped dead in his tracks when it slightly moved.

Now, from this distance, the well-tailored dark gray overcoat was unmistakable.

*Ray?*

Fraser felt a cold, sharp spike in his chest.

That stray bullet he had dodged had continued its path, passing overhead, and Ray was behind him.

Right behind him!

*Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!*

"RAY!"

"RAY!" Fraser burst into full speed towards his ailing friend.

Ray lay crumpled with his face buried in the crook of the dirty, wet gutter. He looked like a thin broken bird and the cop groaned, choked, and gasped.

"Ray! Ray! Where are you hit? Let me see! Ray!" Fraser knelt down, shook Ray’s shoulders and tried to turn the broken body over. A thin arm reached up forcefully and a slim hand shoved hard against the Mountie’s chest.

Fraser fell back on his rear with a dull thud. "Ray?"

Ray then curled up into a rigid little ball, his arms wrapping tight around his stomach and his knees drawn up tight to his chest. He choked and gasped again, trying to suck air painfully into his lungs.

Screaming sirens and screeching tires marked the arrival of police backup, and Fraser reached out to his friend again.

"Oh shit! Vecchio?" Huey was now at Fraser’s side, staring at the prone detective. "What the hell happened?"

"Hey, one of you guys radio in an ambulance, will ya?" Dewey shouted to one of the uniformed officers as he reached the group of huddled men.

"Fraser, what the hell happened?" Huey repeated, staring at a very pale and very wide-eyed Mountie. Huey softened his tone when he noticed Fraser’s trembling hands. "Here, Fraser, help me out with Ray."

"Ray? Where are you hit? Ray, come on!" Huey tried to roll the detective over, but Ray moaned and pushed Huey away.

Fraser and Dewey joined the effort, all three men now trying to get Ray to roll over onto his back. Ray resisted, his arms flailing out.

Huey grabbed Ray’s face forcefully with his hands, and looked down to see wild green eyes. Huey shouted at the face, "Stop freaking out, Vecchio! Shit, let us help you!"

Ray stopped thrashing about; staring up at Huey now, and he relented as the three men turned him over.

Ray let out a soft wail and gasped again. Huey ripped open Ray’s overcoat and began poking and probing Ray, looking for any injuries. "I see no blood. Do you see any, Fraser?" Huey continued his search, and Ray continued his gasping and choking.

The Mountie opened the gray suit jacket and found the black bulletproof vest. God, he forgot about that! Fashion-conscience Ray never had the opportunity to remove the vest this morning.

Huey let out a long breath. Vecchio mostly wore his bulletproof during stakeouts. Their failed stakeout of last night turned out to be a blessing in disguise this morning.

"Hey, look! There’s a bullet!" Dewey bent down and fingered the bullet lodged in the dark fabric of the vest. It rested rudely over the right side of Ray’s stomach.

Ray lifted up his head to look down at the bullet, and winced. He dropped his head and began coughing violently.

"Hey, help me look for any more bullets." Huey resumed his search, but Fraser grabbed his hand.

"Detective Huey, only one shot was fired. There should be the only bullet." Fraser glanced up, his blue eyes strained with agony.

"Are you sure, Fraser?" Huey knew the Mountie was always right when it came to very minute details, but Fraser looked as if he was about to toss his cookies.

"I’m very sure. The shot was purposely fired at me. It was intended only for me."

Huey caught the odd catch in Fraser’s voice, and the odd words. Huey looked at the Mountie for a quiet moment, and then squeezed his elbow gently.

It was like that night with Gardino all over again. *Shit.* "Fraser, help me remove Ray’s vest."

Both men sat Ray up and began to remove his soiled overcoat and suit jacket.

"Uh… hurts…" Ray gasped, finally regaining his voice and his lips trembling.

"Hey, I know, man. It sucks being you." Huey said in a soothing, motherly voice.

Dewey jumped up and ran out into the street to flag down the approaching ambulance.

"Shit *gasp* who called *gasp* an ambulance? *gasp* I don’t need one!" Ray was now glaring as the paramedics hopped out of their ambulance.

"Shut up, Vecchio. Don’t make me kick your skinny ass." Huey now lifted the thick black vest over Ray’s head, and Ray whimpered when he lifted his arms up to aid in its removal.

Huey pulled up the blue silk shirt revealing a smooth, flat stomach marred by a large, red-purple blotch on Ray’s right side, the very point of the bullet’s sharp impact.

Fraser felt like swooning, seeing the tender flesh of his friend so marked by the blunt force trauma of the bullet. It was going to be a very bad bruise. This was his entire fault, he should have…what if?… and now there was a silent fear, like a sick worming motion under his skin.

"What seems to be the matter?" A young paramedic wearing latex gloves and a serious face was now bending over and staring at Ray.

"Oh, nothing. *gasp* Just had the wind knocked out of me. *gasp* That’s all. Goodbye. See ya." Ray squirmed now as he began to realize that he was the center of attention.

The paramedic slowly shook his head. *Great. These cops are all alike.* "Are you able to walk?" The paramedic gestured impatiently over to the ambulance.

"We’ll help ya, Vecchio," Dewey offered.

Ray looked up, sitting on the dirty pavement like a sack of broken twigs, and he gave a feeble shrug. Dewey bent down and slipped one of Ray’s arms over his shoulder.

Huey now offered his arm to Ray. "Care to dance, Vecchio?"

"You’re not my type, Jack."

Huey chuckled, and slipped Ray’s other free arm over his broad shoulder.

Huey and Dewey helped the Italian gingerly to his feet, and Ray took small baby steps to the waiting ambulance. Hanging off the two large men, Ray looked like a battered old scarecrow.

Where was Benny? Ray looked over his shoulder and saw the Mountie staring back, his blue eyes grieving.

"Fraser? You okay?" Ray wished everybody would just leave him the hell alone so he can talk to Benny. He looked so damn miserable.

The Mountie didn’t say anything. He just kept staring.

"Benny?"

Ray turned his head quickly forward and he doubled over.

"Uh oh!"

"What is it, Vecchio?" Huey asked bending down to see Ray’s pale face, very concerned now for the cop.

Ray forcefully vomited all his coffee on his new leather shoes in answer. So much for his caffeine fix.

<><><><>

Fraser spent the next hour giving his statement to a rookie cop and then to Detective Dewey, being very exact in every detail in his typical Mountie way. It was quite difficult though; he had other urgent things on his mind.

He would glance occasionally over to Ray sitting inside the ambulance on a stretcher, being poked and prodded by two overzealous paramedics. Huey, sitting by his friend’s side, had his little white pad out and was scribbling his notes as he took Ray’s statement.

Fraser felt disconnected from the whole scene that he was in, as if he stepped out of his own body to observe the chaos that was his own doing. He felt his belly burn sourly and was now reminded of that livid bruise spreading out on Ray’s stomach, and the pain.

He stood by the Riv, not willing to approach the ambulance and he waited quietly for the Chicago cop to return to him.

A uniformed officer, along with Detective Dewey, walked over to him. "Hey, Fraser!" Dewey called out. "We just got the word. Your culprit was caught five blocks from here, right on Pine Street. It’s just some little dumb punk showing off a gun to his friends. He stole from his father’s desk "

*That’s it?* Fraser really felt sick now. *What a waste.*

"So, he is not in any sort of trouble beyond that?" Fraser asked, and gripped his stetson in his sweaty hands tightly.

Dewey looked at him askance. "Fraser, the only trouble this kid has is he’s a fucking moron." Dewey sighed, shook his head, and turned to leave for the car.

The Mountie looked down and stared at his feet.

"Ouch! Hey, this is suppose to make me better?" Ray shouted, and winced as one paramedic pushed at his abdomen. "Oww! Holy shiatsu!"

"We can’t detect any signs of internal bleeding or abnormal swelling. We believe you’ll be fine detective, but you may experience some tenderness and discomfort for the next few days. But if you do develop any signs of dizziness, nausea, or severe abdominal pain, you should report to the ER immediately."

The paramedic with latex gloves was near ready to toss Ray out of his goddamn ambulance.

"Yeah, yeah." Ray mumbled and pulled on his silk shirt.

"Vecchio, you’re going to be okay?" Huey was staring at him.

"Hey, yeah, sure. Um… ah, sorry about freaking out like that back there. It’s just, ya know, I thought I was actually shot for a moment. I forgot I had my vest on." Ray pulled on his suit jacket, and he was now getting embarrassed as he opened up to Huey.

"Don’t worry about it, Ray. It happens to the best of us. Besides, it gives me something to talk about at the next Christmas party." Huey got up to exit the ambulance. Ray chuckled, and climbed out after him. Huey helped Ray down carefully.

Huey was staring at him again. "Um, Vecchio? Didn’t I tell you and the Boy Scout to go home?"

"Yeah, yeah, Jack. But we stopped off to get some coffee, and Benny heard… um, we both heard the gunshots and we had to investigate…"

"You mean *Fraser* had to investigate, and you went along for the ride. Look, Vecchio, I’m not telling you how to live your life, but you gotta think about yourself. I mean, you gotta a family to support and a mortgage to pay. Fraser is a good guy and I like him, but…" Huey hands spread out in frustration.

"Look, Jack.You mean well, but I’m a big boy now and can make my own decisions. I know how to take care of myself." Ray shrugged into his overcoat with pain, and was very annoyed.

Huey looked Ray over.

The detective was drawn, haggard, and beaten, and he was coated with mud, grime, dirt, vomit, and God knows what else.

"Yeah, Vecchio. Sure.Whatever. You’re sure taking great care of yourself, all right. Well, it’s your funeral. I’ll see ya around." Huey nodded and walked towards his car in a huff.

"Hey, Jack! Wait." Ray hobbled after Huey. "Look at me. I mean, I can handle it, okay?"

Huey stopped and folded his arms, but Ray continued, "I mean, he’s my best friend, okay? He is my partner. You understand. Partner." Ray pleaded, and a deeper meaning shone in his hazel eyes.

Huey shook his head sadly, and for the second time today was reminded of Gardino’s absence. "Yeah, Ray. I understand. Partner." *Shit.*

"Hey, I’m sorry Vecchio. Okay? It’s just our precinct doesn’t need another dead cop." Huey reached up and squeezed Ray’s shoulder. "Take care of yourself, will you?"

"I’ll try my best, Jack. Thanks." Ray watched as Huey climbed into his car, Dewey already waiting impatiently in the passenger seat. The old car revved up and Huey looked at him.

"Hey, Vecchio! Read my lips: GO FUCKING HOME." Huey finally pulled away from the curb, leaving a weary Ray alone and frowning.

Why can’t people mind their own business? He knew what he was doing! Damn, he was just having a bad hair day. That’s all. A bad fucking day.

This train of thought caused Ray to look at his Rolex watch. It was only seven-thirty in the morning. He shook his head sadly.

The squad cars finally dispersed, leaving the Riv the lone car in the street. Ray approached his car slowly with a very sad Mountie standing by it staring down at the pavement.

"Let’s go home, Benny. Okay?" Ray offered a very weak smile. He was beat.

Ray unlocked the driver’s side door and opened it. Ray slid into his old familiar seat. He felt safe now and a little normal again.

Benny stooped down to look at Ray through the window. "Ray? Are you sure you are capable of driving? If you wish, I can drive…"

"No! Benny, I mean… I’m fine now. Will ya just get in?"

There was no way in hell he was going to let the Mountie drive his dearly beloved. He loved Fraser like a brother and all, but drive his Riv? No way! She was the only thing Ray truly owned.

Fraser climbed into his usual seat, and he placed his stetson solemnly on his lap.

The Riv took off, destination 221 West Racine and Ray tossed his cell phone over to the haggard Mountie.

"Ray?" Fraser looked down at the cell phone resting in his lap.

"Call the Dragon Lady, Benny. Tell her you’re sick and not coming to work today, okay? You look like shit." Ray went through a red light.

"Ray, that’s not necessary. I’m fit for duty…"

"Benny! You’re going to call the consulate, you’re going to tell them you’re sick, you’re going to tell them you can’t show up, and you’re going to like it. Start dialing."

Ray tried very hard to maintain a polite and calm voice by gritting his teeth.

Fraser obeyed and punched the numbers silently into the cell phone. Fortunately, it was still early in the morning and Inspector Thatcher wasn’t present at the consulate yet.

Fraser talked to Ovitz instead, and the young man politely took his message.

Fraser handed the cell phone back to Ray.

"Thanks, Benny." Ray let out a long and exhausted breath. At least that was done without a hitch.

Ray wrinkled his nose. God, he smelled bad: puke and sweat and misery. He probably looked worst.

He couldn’t let Ma or the others see him like this, he’ll just wind up answering a million questions. And Ma is always worrying about him at work. This would only make it worst.

Ray glanced over at Fraser. "Benny. You don’t mind I clean myself up and crash at your place for a while? I don’t wanna go home looking like this."

"Of course I don’t mind. It’s the least I could do." Fraser would have gladly donated his left kidney to Ray after what he put him through. How can Ray even still be talking to him after the fiasco of this morning? How?

The Mountie stared out the passenger window, watching the passing stream of shops and buildings and people. Chicago was now awake and coming alive.

He imagined what the city would be like if he had never met Ray, if Lt.Welsh had never assigned Ray the ‘dead Mountie case.’ Where would he be right now? What he would be doing now? He was certain that none of it would have mattered without Ray by his side.

And today he almost gotten Ray killed.

The Riv swerved up to the curve in front of Fraser’s apartment building, and Ray killed the engine. How can Benny live here? Rats and roaches and drunks and thieves and junkies.

Ray shook his head and exited the Riv. "Let’s go, Fraser."

Both men sluggishly and wearily made their way up the dark endless staircase rather than risk the death-trap elevator. Ray had enough fun for one day.

Ray slowed, then stopped his ascent of the stairs. He let out a long and hopeless sigh.

"Ray?" Fraser looked over his shoulder in concern, blue eyes now worried.

Ray shrugged, and smiled blandly. "Can ya help an old lady up the stairs?" Ray cordially offered up his arm.

"Of course, Ray. You know I always enjoy assisting the elderly."

Ray laughed and draped one thin arm around Fraser’s neck. The Mountie wrapped his arm solidly around Ray’s slim waste and half-climbed half-carried Ray up the dimly lit stairs.

The feel of Ray’s lithe body and its heat pressed up against his frame was now affecting Fraser’s respiration. Ray made little grunts, huffs, and puffs against his cheek as they ascended the stairs, and Fraser was ready to pass out.

He selfishly wished the dark staircase were a thousand steps long.

All too soon, they reached the landing of the staircase and both men headed down the dismal hallway to Fraser’s door. Safely now in the small apartment, they were both greeted by its lupine occupant.

"Hello, Diefenbaker. How is your day?" Fraser walked Ray to the kitchen table as the wolf yelped back in answer.

Dief went to jump up on Ray, but suddenly backed away and whined. Ray didn’t smell too good.

"What’s your problem, fuzz face? Jeez." Ray slumped down into a kitchen chair.

Fraser placed his stetson carefully on the hat block and removed his leather jacket. He looked over at Ray, his head now resting on his thin arms on the kitchen table.

"Ray? Do you want uh… coffee or anything? I can make some breakfast, if you wish?" Fraser hung his jacket in the closet.

Ray lifted up his head. "Maybe later, Benny. I wanna shower first and get into some clean clothes. Can you pull out one of my suits?"

"Sure, Ray." Fraser dug through his closet to find one of Ray’s spare suits, and there was quite a few to choose from. Ray liked being prepared for the worst.

"Uh, which suit do you want, Ray?" Fraser called from the closet.

"Any suit, it doesn’t matter. As long it’s not stained with mud and shit."

Fraser winced at Ray’s comment, and pulled out a light gray suit with a white silk shirt and a navy blue silk tie. The garments felt very fine in his hands, and Benny felt a light flutter in his chest. Ray always looked his very best in gray, and very classy, too.

Fraser handed Ray his suit, a white towel, and a bar of Mountie-issue soap.

Ray sniffed the soap, made a face, and then shrugged. It will have to do.

"Thanks, Benny. I’ll see ya in a few." Ray slipped out of the apartment to the communal bathroom.

Fraser sat alone at the kitchen table, the teakettle heating up and Dief looking up at him. He reached down and patted the wolf, and Dief whined softly, sensing the distress and sadness emanating from his master.

Was it him, or did it seem he was always hurting Ray in someway or fashion?

"I’ll be fine, Diefenbaker. Everything will be okay…okay…uh…" Fraser finally broke down and sobbed. "It will be okay…"

Dief whined again.

<><><><>

Showering in the communal bathroom was no different than showering at the Vecchio home: everybody tended to gravitate towards Ray when he was naked, helpless, and wet. He should really have an extra bathroom built in his house. He’ll talk to Ma about it later.

However, for now, the best he could do was lock the communal bathroom door. He didn’t need to give Fraser’s neighbors a free peep show. He wasn’t in a communal mood.

Staring at his thin naked frame in the mirror, Ray felt a slight wave of nausea. A purple-lavender stain that blossomed like a rose marked his right side. It had the unripe beginnings of an ugly bruise. *Great.*

Ray looked at the soiled remnants of his clothing in his hands. The overcoat was definitely a goner, being stained with mud and spent motor oil from the street, and it had a goddamn gaping bullet hole.

The rest of his suit may be salvageable. He’ll just drop it off with Harry at the dry cleaners and maybe Harry can remove the stains off the slacks and…

"Nah! Fuck it!" Ray tossed all of his garments into a small trashcan in the corner of the bathroom, another suit a casualty of war. He was tired of putting Harry’s kids through college.

He’ll keep the leather shoes though; they were too damn expensive. All he had to do was wipe off the puke and dirt… Ray felt sick again.

Finally standing under the hot spray of the shower, Ray felt his battered body unravel, the tension slowly leaking out like air from a tire. He opened his mouth under the water, washing out the stale sick taste in his mouth. His mind cleared along with the grime.

Why did he follow Fraser like that? Shit. He should just let him go off, do his ‘Mountie thing’, and wait for him to return like a stray dog. Any normal, rational human being would do that.

But that was it, wasn’t it? He wasn’t normal, was he?

Why else would he continually follow Fraser over the edge of the cliff?

*I love him.*

Ray had long ago recognized his somewhat not-so-normal feelings for his partner. Shocked by them, he tucked them away into a small dark corner of his mind. Somehow, those feelings would occasionally filter through, affecting his decisions and actions regarding the Mountie.

Following Fraser up north sporting a neck brace and a busted arm; a mortgage up for bail; killing his first Riv with a bullet to the heart… uh… gas tank; and another Armani suit resting in the trash can. *Oh damn!*

What about telling Fraser how he feels?

*Yeah, right!*

The Mountie probably wrestles grizzly bears for relaxation and eats raw caribou meat. If Fraser even had the slightest clue as to what Ray felt for him, the Mountie would probably flee to the airport screaming. Hell, the guy would probably leave skid marks.

Ray shook his head and sighed. He began to soap himself up with Mountie issue soap. *Oh, great. Smelling like Fraser isn’t going to help.*

Fraser heard his door open and softly close. A freshly cleansed Chicago detective slipped silently inside.

Ray stepped into the small kitchen and hung his new gray suit jacket on the back of a kitchen chair. He placed the towel and soap on the table, and he looked up at friend. The Mountie was at the counter pouring hot water into a mug and he had his back to Ray.

"You making coffee, Benny? Thanks." Ray sat down and rubbed his neck. The shower actually made him feel better, though he was still exhausted enough to sleep for a thousand years. There was only so much a shower can do.

Fraser cleared his throat. "Here’s your coffee, Ray." The Mountie placed a mug in front of the detective and returned to his counter.

"Are you going to have some too, Benny?" Ray was staring at his partner’s back again.

"Uh. No, Ray. I already had some tea while you were in the shower."

"Oh. Okay." Ray stirred sugar into the coffee. He didn’t like drinking alone.

Fraser listened intently to his friend sipping his drink, and the Mountie looked over his shoulder furtively.

Ray placed the mug gingerly to his delicate lips and carefully sipped, trying not to burn himself with the hot liquid. Trying not to hurt himself… the vision became blurred as tears welled up in Fraser’s eyes again. He turned his head forward to hide his face.

"Did I make it too hot, Ray? Sorry." Fraser tried very hard to keep his voice neutral.

"No, Benny. It’s fine. I like it." Hot coffee, clean suit, safe apartment, it was all he that wanted after a morning like he had.

* Whine *

"What?" Ray looked down at the wolf regarding him with somber eyes, pleading.

* Whine *

"Oh, all right. Jeez." Ray patted the wolf reluctantly on his furry head. "Yeah. Yeah. I love you too, Dief. Okay?"

He suddenly heard Fraser make a sound like a choke.

"You okay, Benny?" Ray looked up and stopped patting the wolf.

Fraser just stood there with his back towards him not answering. He was not moving at all.

"Benny? Did ya hear me? You okay?" Ray was tensing up again, and that weird feeling from the diner was now creeping back.

Fraser’s shoulders slumped forward and he started to tremble, his hands now pressed hard against the kitchen counter.

Ray got up clumsily from the table nearly spilling his coffee on his new slacks, and he rushed to Fraser’s side. "Benny, what’s wrong?" Ray grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

"I’m wrong…" Fraser gasped and flinched from Ray’s touch. This was just too much for him. Ray was now touching him when not so long ago he had been touching a sleeping Ray in the Riv.

"What? You’re wrong at what? What were you trying to say?" Ray had to turn the resisting Mountie forcefully around to face him, but Fraser wouldn’t budge. Ray winced as his gut flared up in sharp pain, and at his futile efforts with the Canadian.

"Benny, look at me now. Please! Will you turn around and… oww!" Ray now gasped as his stomach seared painfully and he pressed a palm to his side. Wrestling with Fraser was not such a good idea now, and he didn’t need to vomit his second cup of coffee.

"Ray? Are you okay? Ray?" Fraser now turned. Ray was looking at him with pursed lips; his green eyes a mixture of agony and annoyance.

"Benny! I’m asking you that question! Hey, wait! Have you been crying?" Ray gaped as he noticed his friend’s red and puffy eyes, the blue irises now dulled with his grief.

"I’m wrong. I’m wrong, Ray." Fraser shook his very slowly. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut to block the flow of impending tears. "Wrong, wrong, wrong…"

"Okay, so you are wrong. Okay? Now what the hell are you wrong about?" Ray grabbed Fraser’s shoulders, gently giving them a squeeze of reassurance.

*Tired, that’s all, Benny standing there and tired all over. That’s it, no big deal.* And Ray was tired too.

Ray was now panicking. *Shit.*

"Please, Fraser. What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Huh? Please tell me!"

"I think it’s best we don’t work together anymore. I don’t want to work with you anymore."

Ray stepped back stunned, hit hard by the suddenness of those unexpected words

"What? What the hell are you talking about? Not work with each other? Why?"

"I don’t want to work with you anymore. Do you understand? I’m sorry, Ray, but I think you should leave."

"Huh? I don’t understand, Benny. What do you…"

"Will you go away now, Ray! I want you to go!"

"I’m not fucking going anywhere, Fraser! Look, whatever I did to you to piss you off, I didn’t mean it. Okay? I would never intentionally hurt you. You’re my best friend!"

Where was this coming from? What was happening to them? Ray felt as if he was falling, falling without a damn parachute.

"Ray! I want you to leave now! Please! Get out! For your own sake, leave!"

"No! Tell me what I did to you, okay? Just tell me." Ray was shaking his friend hard now, gripping his shoulders, his bruised stomach churning up again with his desperate movements.

"I almost got you killed today! You’re my best friend and I can’t risk doing that to you again. Do you understand? That’s why I won’t work with you anymore!"

Fraser was now pulling away from him, turning his body to block Ray from getting too near.

"Look, Benny, it’s not your fault! It’s mine. I should’ve been more careful, that’s all. Please, let us get over this dumb shit, okay? We should keep working together. Hell, nobody else wants to!"

Ray was shouting and ignoring the painful ache in his gut. How did things get so messed up? God, he was alive and okay. He had his bulletproof vest on this morning. What’s the big deal?

He should’ve talked to Benny about this sooner in the Riv instead of giving his partner all this ample time to turn his wheels. He should’ve known better.

"Look! I need you to work with me! Okay? I need you to be with me! I need you! Benny, God, I need you! Don’t do this to me, please!"

"Ray, please go! I made up my mind. Please go now!" Fraser grabbed Ray’s arms and was dragging him towards the door. This was for his own good! Why didn’t he just leave?

Ray was sobbing now, twisting and squirming in Fraser’s grasp, going totally berserk and not caring. He loved Benny-taking him places, buying him things, teaching him things and listening to him. Was that love? Yes, he thought so. Ray loved him, but what difference did it make now?

All bets were off.

"How could you be doing this to me? Jesus Christ! When I need and love you so much! God, Benny, please stop! I love you and want you, and now ya just throwing me out of your life like I’m a piece of trash!"

"What?" Fraser’s head jerked up, his eyes going wide.

Did Ray just say that? Did Ray say that he loved him or did he just dream it again like he had so many times before these past three years? He was thinking of that moment in the car, touching and feeling Ray, and now there was an exquisite feeling of relief that there may be the sweet possibility of reciprocation.

"What did you say? Ray? Ray!"

Fraser gripped the detective’s arms tightly, rattling him hard. "Ray?"

"Ray! What did you just say? Oh My God! Ray?"

His friend ignored his questions, wrapped up in his own misery, uncontrollably ranting and raving.

"If this was going to happen then I wished that bullet killed me because I don’t care anymore! Shit!"

"RAY!"

*Oh, great! The Mountie is going to kick my fairy ass! Whatever. Kill me, I don’t care.*

Ray didn’t care. It didn’t matter anymore if he could no longer have Benny in his life.

The Mountie grabbed him hard, grabbing his head and neck. *Oh God, he’s going to kill me!*

Fraser pressed his lips hard against Ray’s, crushing him in his arms and holding the cop very tight.

At first no reaction, no movements at all from the detective. Ray’s soft lips were still and his mouth clamped tight. Did Fraser make a mistake? Ray seemed quite stunned, numb.

Did he make a mistake?

Fraser now felt a soft rumbling and a moan from the slender man in his arms, and that mouth finally opened up for him. *Let me in, let me in, Ray, please, let me in.*

The Mountie slipped his tongue inside that gracious mouth.

*Let me in Ray. Taste me Ray, yes. Taste me.*

Ray tasted his partner’s skin, his mouth and tongue warm and unknown, unknown until only now. Ray’s eyes squeezed shut and he was now blind. He was whirled down and under, his body turning and spinning from the kiss. Only the pressure of Fraser’s hand behind his head anchored him in the rushing storm.

Ray had never been kissed this way before, never been kissed hard on the mouth and invaded and possessed deeply like this all at once. Fraser’s mouth moved very smoothly in his like pouring maple syrup and Ray’s head sank back, letting Fraser take all he wanted. Ray was too weak even now to raise his hands to cling to him, too weak to cling to his best friend, partner, brother and hopefully, lover.

When the Mountie finally lifted his mouth, he still held Ray tight with his hands. At first, Ray could not open his eyes, and when he finally did there were a blur of colors and the white face of a saint staring anxiously at him.

Ray turned towards him and he gripped his partner’s clothing to hold himself up, grabbing at the soft sweater and collar, his fingers tangled in the dark chestnut hair and was now locked behind Fraser’s neck.

"Ray?"

"Oh, Benny. Kiss me again."

Did he hear Benny groan softly as he was possessed once again?

Their bodies now flowed and spun together and plunged fathoms deep in passion. Ray pressed himself into the man he tasted, dissolving into his flesh and the sweet hardness of him. Ray was lost in him. Ray was totally lost.

They now grinded together as dictated by primal instinct and basic biological need and by Ray’s urgent desire to be entirely devoured and fucked by this Mountie.

"Oh God, Benny, don’t stop. Please."

"Ray? Umm, will you make love to me?"

"Let me, Benny. Let me… ummph."

Ray was not quick enough to see a large, warm hand as it caught up behind his neck and that silky mouth invading him again, parting his lips with a satin tongue. Ray gave himself up to it and accepted the strong, broad body pushing into him and where their flesh touched it became one. He opened his mouth wide and gave himself to the Mountie and to his own burning instinct.

Fraser tasted the sugary bitterness of coffee inside Ray’s mouth and now the delicate spice of herbal tea in that wet heat. Fraser became dazed as he realized that he now tasted himself on Ray, all inside Ray’s mouth and on his tongue.

Fraser groaned from the happy discovery. He then groaned in misery when he finally had to pull away.

"Ray, will you follow me?"

"I’ll go anywhere with you. I don’t care."

Both men walked slowly and warily to the tiny bed, with Fraser leading the way and Ray’s stealthy presence at his heels. Ray felt his heart trying to beat its way painfully out of his ribcage and he was aching and throbbing all over.

They now stood there at the foot of bed, staring down nervously upon it as if it were a crashed space ship from another planet. And they kept staring at it. It was going to be a very long day.

Ray finally plopped down on the bed, not because of a lack of fear, but out of sheer exhaustion. The mattress was lumpy and hard.

Fraser sat gingerly by Ray’s side, trying to decide whether to look at Ray’s face or look down at his own feet. He chose his feet.

"Ray?"

"Yeah, Benny?"

"Uh, can I… can I touch you, Ray?" Fraser was staring down at his feet again, his pale face now a little red.

Ray was looking at him, still recovering from that kiss and he swallowed hard. "Where do you want to touch me, Benny?"

Fraser shrugged. This was going to be difficult.

"Come on, Benny. It’s okay. Where do you want to touch me?" Ray smiled and spoke softly so as not to spook the Mountie.

"Here, Ray." Fraser reached up and place his larger hand on top of Ray’s more slender one resting on the mattress.

"That’s it, Benny? Ya just want to hold hands?"

Ray turned his hand over, the palm now facing up to grab hold of Fraser’s.

Palms now pressed together, Ray gave the larger hand a gentle squeeze. "Anything else you would like to touch? What’s mine is yours, Benny."

Fraser looked up with a soft laugh, relaxing slightly, and he considered his options. He reached up with his other hand and cupped Ray’s lightly whiskered cheek. It felt like a deluge of rough silk against his palm. Fraser stroked the prickly skin with his thumb very gently, doing small, tiny strokes.

Ray let out a small sigh and leaned gently into that caress with his eyes closed.

He opened his eyes again and he was grinning. "What else would ya like to touch? I’m offering you a banquet, Benny, and you’re only taking lousy table scraps."

Grinning, Fraser then reached down with his hand and tenderly cupped Ray’s groin.

Ray let out a small squeak of surprise and he slightly jumped. "Oh! Okay!"

"Doesn’t feel like table scraps to me, Ray." The Mountie smiled shyly, and gave a mild little tug to the clothed flesh in his hand, quite warm and getting hard.

Ray gasped and was now staring at Fraser with a mild look of shock. Ray then rested his forehead on his friend’s broad shoulder; trying to keep his intense breathing under control.

Fraser continued the nimble-light foreplay, his hand working softly on Ray’s groin, tugging and squeezing with Ray letting out little gasps and moans.

"Benny, oh God… no …no… no." He suddenly yanked Fraser’s hand away from his groin.

Surprised, Fraser looked up quickly at Ray.

The detective’s eyes were squeezed shut, his smooth curved brows knitted, and he was biting his lower lip.

"Ray? Are you all right? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…"

"Benny, I’m just swell. It’s just, well, a few more seconds of that and… boom! It’s all over. I just want this to last a while. Okay?" Ray was panting, his slender hands now trembling in his lap.

"And besides, Benny, we have an audience."

Both men turned their heads forward and they were now staring at a wolf staring back at them.

The wolf tilted his head to one side and he regarded the men on the bed with curious, amber eyes.

"I don’t believe this shit. What the hell is he looking at?" Ray scowled. The nosy wolf was starting to ruin their sensual mood.

"I believe he knows we’re mating, Ray."

Ray’s green eyes went round in shock. "What? Damn it! That’s disgusting, Benny! Your wolf’s a pervert!"

"Well, Ray, it’s not his fault. You see, Dief may consider us to be one of him."

"Huh? Dief thinks we’re wolves?"

"Uh, that’s likely to be the case."

"But I’m not a wolf!"

"I know you’re not a wolf, and you know you’re not a wolf, but Dief doesn’t know. He may actually consider us as his pack mates."

"Huh? Pack mates?"

"Wolves come in packs, Ray. A pack is sort of like a family, and Dief may consider us his family. Within a pack, there are rankings and orders for each specific wolf. It is a privilege and a sign of power and dominance for two wolves to mate, and usually it’s the highest-ranking wolves, the alpha male and female, that are permitted to mate in a pack."

"Hmm? Fraser, are you saying Dief is envious?"

"Well, I don’t think he’s envious, curious, maybe. After all, it is a privilege for two wolves to mate in a pack."

"Well, that doesn’t mean he can just stare at us like some sort of pervert wolf."

"I think Diefenbaker is trying to learn from me the act of mating…"

"WHAT?!"

"Well, Dief may consider me the alpha male of the pack, something quite similar to a father figure of the family since I have accepted Dief into my life and have provided him discipline, law, training, and guidance. And since you, Ray, have provided Dief food and transportation in the safety and shelter of your car, Dief may consider you to be the… umm, well you may be the…"

"Dief thinks I’m the Mama wolf!" Ray definitely didn’t like the direction where this weird wolf-like conversation was heading and he was glaring at the unsuspecting wolf in question.

"Well, I wouldn’t exactly put it that way, Ray. I believe the term ‘alpha female’ is more suitable…"

"Oh, great! The fur ball thinks I’m his mommy!"

"Ray, within the pack the alpha female may have great authority and power over her pack’s activities, such as deciding where her pack is to den and where her pack will hunt for food. The majority of the time she may even be the pack leader, and the alpha female may exert her power by emitting a pheromone to stop ovulation in the lesser-ranking female wolves of her pack…"

"Oh my God! Shut up, Frasier!"

"I’m just saying there is no shame in being the alpha female of a pack, and the Inuit believe…"

"Yeah. Yeah. Whatever! Hey, Dief! Listen to your mommy and beat it!" Ray waved his fist angrily at the poor, white wolf.

Dief whined, turned, and sauntered away into the kitchen in a huff.

Fraser raised up his eyebrows in mild surprise. Dief never obeys him. Never!

"Ma knows best!" Ray announced proudly.

Fraser looked at Ray and laughed, shaking his head sadly. You pay and you pay and you pay…

"Hey, Benny. Where were we?"

"I believe we were mating, Ray."

"Oh? Okay."

A little more awkward silence as the two men tried to regain some of that intimate groove back.

"Uh, Ray, I often imagined, well, what it would feel like to have your hands on me."

Ray gleamed. "So, Benny, you want me to touch you?"

"If that’s what you want, Ray?" Fraser presumed innocently, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.

"Oh, hell yes, Benny."

Fraser just sat there with a goofy wide grin and Ray wanted to crack a joke, but he decided on a more romantic route.

"Benny, is there any particular place on your body where you want me to touch you?"

"Umm, well my shoulders, Ray, to begin with."

"Your shoulders?" Ray made a disappointed face.

"Actually, Ray, my bare shoulders." Fraser flushed hotly at the words coming out of his mouth.

"Well, that does sound a little better." Ray chuckled, and shifted closer to his partner.

With shaky hands, Ray started to tug Fraser’s sweater gently up his belly, then up his chest.

"Benny, lift up your arms for me, okay?"

Ray pulled the sweater up Fraser’s arms and tried to yank the sweater earnestly off his friend’s head, but it became stuck and a desperate struggle ensued.

"Benny, ya still in there? I can’t get your sweater off your big head."

"Which big head are you referring to, Ray?" Fraser answered back, muffled under the wool sweater.

Ray stopped yanking the sweater. "Did ya just make a joke, Benny?"

"Ummph." Fraser was practically eating wool now.

"This is supposed to be a very tender moment and you’re cracking jokes?" Ray mocked indignation. "I can’t believe you."

"Ummph."

"Come on, Benny. Damn it! Help me with the sweater, here. I’m not your nanny."

Ray continued the tug-of-war with the stubborn sweater and finally whipped the sweater free from the dark head.

Fraser just sat there blinking, his face red, flushed, and sweaty and his hair was all mussed up. He was panting now, and smiling. The Mountie was a lovely sight.

*Oh God.*

Ray squeezed his eyes shut and he tried hard to resist the hungry urge of throwing himself on top of Fraser and dry-humping him to death.

"Ray?"

"Uh, Benny? Have you? You know, with another man?"

"No. You’re my first. Actually, Ray, you are going to be my first. Like virginity."

Ray’s eyes popped out of his head. Christ! How in the hell is he going to function with Benny speaking like that? Damn, he was going to dry-hump him to death!

"Ray? What about you?"

"Huh? No, Benny. You’re going to be my first and only. Okay?"

Smiling, the detective reached forward and yanked Fraser’s white tee shirt up over his head. He swallowed hard when he finally saw the Mountie’s bare chest, broad ice-white and the pink budded-nipples.

"Please touch me, Ray."

Ray’s hands reached up to caress his partner’s broad shoulders and he leaned forward and bit at Benny’s lip, slowly straying down across his pale throat and down to his breasts. Ray’s tongue gently tattooed the nipples with wet, hot circles of heat, taking their centers into his mouth.

The Mountie groaned as he felt a sharp tingle running from the points of his nipples to burn a sweet path down to his groin. He cupped Ray’s smooth head with both hands to press him gently against his breast, wanting more of that talented Italian mouth on him.

Pulling away reluctantly, Ray lifted himself up and was now standing over his lover. "Hey, Benny, get up on the bed."

The Mountie swung his legs up obediently, and was now leaning back and resting his head on the pillow, looking up at Ray with a mixture of uncertainty and joy.

Ray kneeled on the bed and started to remove Fraser’s shoes and socks. "I guess I might as well undress the rest of you, Benny, you big baby."

Those familiar, slender hands now reached down to the button fly of his denims and Fraser gasped, clutching the sheets and breathing with the exquisite torture of knowing the endless possibilities of what Ray will do to him next. The Mountie raised his hips instinctually and his jeans were sloughed gracefully and quickly off his legs as if Ray was practiced in this mating ritual.

Ray was grinning at the white boxers, neatly pressed and starched, and he yanked the underpants down vigorously.

"Jesus Christ, Fraser!"

Ray stared wide-eyed at his partner and at the pale shaft, standing majestically and wearing a crown of foreskin. The cock was uncut, unmutilated and untouched like the very day Fraser was born.

"Ray?" Fraser became anxious at Ray’s dramatic reaction and he shifted nervously in the bed.

"Wow! It’s just I didn’t expect you to be so, um… you know? Okay? Oh God! I mean, it’s okay, Benny. I love it."

Fraser looked like an ivory prince from an X-rated fairy tale, an exemplar of pure male beauty, and that uncut phallus too its own beauty: golden-pale, sturdy, and upright. Fraser was just too beautiful to look at and it hurt to look at him.

Ray tossed the starched boxers happily over his shoulder.

"Scoot over, Benny."

Ray lowered himself onto the narrow bed and stretched out to lie besides the length of his lover, gazing at him tenderly. Supporting himself on one elbow, Ray leaned over the Mountie, touching the soft lips with one finger, and he traced a sweet path languidly down the pale body.

His long finger traveled slowly down the tender throat and collarbone, the flat hard sternum, the smooth white belly and navel, and finally down to the soft, black lake of hair and the beautiful cock rising from its depths.

The detective touched this hard totem carefully and slowly gained his confidence as it quivered and tautened in his hand. This may actually work. The soft flap of foreskin was still a strange fascination to him. Ray pushed it back now with his thumb revealing a wet pink tip.

With his own fingertip to that tip he began rubbing gently in slow circular motions, and Ray stared intently at his friend and the pale hips smoothly moving in rhythm to the tiny strokes he administered.

Fraser was panting. "Ray, yes Ray. Please."

Leaning on his elbow, stroking and learning the map of his lover’s body, Ray now felt the dull, throbbing ache of that bruise on his stomach. He really needed to relieve that flaming pressure in his gut before it ruined his blissful mood.

"Hey, Benny. I really need to lie on my back. Okay?"

"Anything for you, Ray."

Grabbing firm hold of Ray’s waist, Fraser rolled their bodies gently over and he pinned the Italian underneath him. Ray’s breath was rushing out against his pale throat.

"I don’t think I can stop touching you, Benny."

Fraser tensed and shivered as a warm, elegant hand slipped between his thighs, now seeking and searching, the long fingers probing daintily after the sparks of delight in his cock and balls. He felt himself melt under Ray’s feather soft touch, like a block of ice melting, melting down until he was finally gone.

"God, Ray. Ray! More Ray, please!"

Without prologue, Ray snared the burning tower of his friend, erect and satin-hard, with both of his hands, one slender hand now at the base and the other hand at the tip. And Ray was oddly reminded of the childhood game of ‘one-potato two-potato.’

Ray felt the jumping and quivering tremors of his lover’s cock within his grasp, its second almost separate life from its handsome owner. Amazed, Ray gripped the pale shaft with more insistence.

"RAY!"

The Mountie began to thrust against his partner, pumping his cock back and forth into the hot, tight sheath now formed by Ray’s graceful hands. A deep, melodious ache began in him and Fraser pumped himself even harder with reckless urgency, his hips writhing fast on a pivot of galvanic motion.

Fraser was now grabbing Ray, grabbing his partner so hard, his head lolling and mouth shouting and grabbing him tighter and fucking Ray’s hands ruthlessly. Ray’s wonderful touch was burning through to him, scorching him, the slender hands holding him tight, squeezing, pumping, and not letting go.

"Ray! Ray! Please! Ray!"

"Benny, lover. Do it for me baby." Ray lifted his head to lick the pale throat.

"RAY! OH MY GOD!!!" The Mountie’s expression, though his face was pinched in his spasms, was oddly rapturous, even euphoric as if he was drenched in extra adrenaline.

Fraser came with all of his motion and strength, screaming and rocking hard against his lover. Ray suddenly felt the flaming juices of his partner bursting and splashing into his hands.

The Mountie collapsed on top of Ray with a loud cry of relief, gasping, and now sobbing.

Then he was motionless, silent, depleted.

Ray was feeling as if he could not adequately breathe, and fully realized that he couldn’t. His hands were still shaking hard, aching, burning and sticky. His lover’s body was now smothering him. What the hell just happened here?

*Oh my God!*

"Benny?"

The Mountie just lied there on top of him and Fraser’s bulky weight was sinking him into the bed as if in sand. The detective felt like fresh road-kill.

"Benny? Hey?"

*Oh great!*

Fraser dead from an orgasm and his partner Ray dead from suffocation. It would make for an interesting crime scene. Shell-shocked uniformed officers tripping over their yellow crime scene tape and Huey having a massive coronary: ‘Didn’t I tell you to go home, Vecchio?’

Ray giggled and then gasped, as the dull pain in his side became a sharp stab. That’s it, he was definitely going to die. He giggled again. He’s going to die laughing with a naked and sweaty Mountie on top of him.

Fraser slowly came to, his body still flaming and blazing with the aftershocks of that explosive release, his ears slightly pounding. He now noticed something trembling and squirming underneath him.

"RAY!"

Fraser lifted his head to look upon the tattered remains of his lover.

"Ray? I’m sorry. Are you alright?"

"Huh? What?"

For a moment it didn’t seem Ray was looking at him but really looking through him, as if Ray could take a glimpse inside his skull now with those hazel eyes so intensified and shining so bright.

Fraser felt a little uneasy under that feverish, piercing gaze.

"Are you alright, Ray?"

Ray blinked his eyes repeatedly, finally regaining now that gentle green that Fraser knew so well. "I am fine, thank you. And how are you?"

Fraser laughed at his friend’s casual response and pressed his mouth gently to Ray’s forehead, his lips now gliding down the long Roman nose only then to dive gracefully into the satin pool of his open mouth.

Ray seemed to have a special taste. Was it from years of consuming coffee, donuts, and pasta? A lovely mouth so bitter, sweet and starchy. Can people actually come in flavors? Fraser suckled that velvet tongue, trying now to guess Ray’s favorite flavor of jelly donut.

Ray slightly squirmed and let out a short gasp. "Ouch."

"Ray?"

"I never thought I would say this to you in my lifetime, Benny, but I need you to get off of me. I’m still a little sore from this morning, okay?"

"Oh? I’m sorry, Ray."

"It’s okay, Bennylove."

Bennylove?

Hmm, a new nickname for Fraser? Leave it to Ray to come up with one.

"Uh, Ray? Ray?" Fraser cleared his throat, and he shifted awkwardly on top of the Italian while trying to get off of him.

"Yeah, Benny?"

"I can’t get up, Ray. I can’t get off you."

"What?"

"Um, I need it back. Ray? You can let go now, Ray. Please let it go."

"Huh? Oh! Jeez, sorry!"

Ray glanced down at the strong white body and noticed he still had a death grip on the Mountie’s spent cock. Embarrassed and flustered, Ray finally let go of his iron grip, mercifully releasing the pale shaft to its rightful owner.

Fraser started to laugh uncontrollably as he rolled off the detective and on to his side.

Ray was flat and smashed against the mattress as if he been worked on by a rolling pin, and Fraser laughed again at the sight.

"Oh shut up, Frasier! You’re lucky I gave you your dick back in one piece!"

"Thank you kindly, Ray."

"I have the feeling you’re going to be a real smart-ass in bed, huh?"

"I think you’re right, Ray."

Fraser began to lightly tug Ray’s white silk shirt out of the waistband of his slacks, slowly exposing that sleek, tender flesh, and then he saw the ghastly purple bruise marring the olive perfection.

Fraser gasped, "Oh, God Ray! I didn’t realize it would be this horrible!"

"Okay, Frasier! I know I am no stud muffin like you are, but I can’t be that bad! Jeez!"

"Huh? Oh no, Ray! I meant the bruise! On your stomach! The bruise from that bullet, Ray."

"Oh? It’s okay, Bennylove. Really, it’s okay. It looks worse than it feels."

Ray was lying a little bit here; it hurts like hell but he always thought himself a big baby anyway. Ray started to pull down his silk shirt to cover up the damage, but Fraser grabbed his hands and stopped him.

"No, Ray. I’m so sorry Ray. Oh, God Ray. So sorry."

"Jeez, Benny, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Sometimes bad things happen, okay?"

Fraser shifted down over his lover’s body, down to the flat stomach. He began to tenderly kiss the bruise, his lips brushing very gently so as not to cause any more pain. He pushed the silk shirt up to Ray’s armpits to get ample surface area.

"Poor Ray. So sorry, my Ray. Sorry."

Ray’s body slightly arched upward under the tender administrations offered by the Mountie mouth over his hurt. This wasn’t so bad. Shit, it was wonderful!

"If you try really hard enough, Benny, maybe you can lick my bruise away."

Ray now giggled, thinking himself to be pretty goddamn clever. Fraser looked at him.

"Now that’s just silly, Ray. But it doesn’t mean I won’t give it a try."

Ray moaned loudly as a hot wet tongue lapped at his injury, caressing the pain away. The Italian ran his fingers though the soft dark hair, his hands stroking the silky warmth and his fingertips pressing deep into the scalp, and that so soft too.

"Bennylove, God. Please kiss me now. Please."

Fraser lifted himself up and placed his mouth obediently over his lover’s, just fitting so perfectly together like pieces of a puzzle, and a very snug fit. They were made for each other.

Long moments later, the Mountie had to pull his mouth away, his lungs screaming for oxygen now.

"Benny, I love your mouth." Ray was breathing hard, also trying to recover some of that oxygen for himself, too.

Fraser was lying on his side, panting and staring at his brand new Italian lover. He had never felt this ecstatic before and he had a wide goofy grin to prove it.

"Damn it, Fraser! You look like the cat who ate the canary!"

"Not yet, Ray."

Smiling shyly, Fraser got up and began to unbutton Ray’s gray Armani slacks.

The detective gulped and he was glaring, shocked at his Mountie’s shameless audacity.

"Hey, Benny? What do you think you’re doing?"

"Looking for your canary, Ray."

"Oh God, Benny. You better hurry before it flies away."

Fraser laughed and slipped the brass button free of its catch…

Both men nearly toppled out of the narrow bed as Ray’s cell phone rang out though the silent apartment.

"Shit! I can’t believe it. Just ignore it, Benny. Please."

"Understood."

Fraser tugged the gray slacks down over the slim hips, revealing the black silk jockeys his lover wore. He could already smell Ray’s sweet excitement…

"Damn it! Why me, Lord, why? Why can’t I be left alone?"

"Maybe you should answer it, Ray."

"Oh God, not now, Benny. Just forget about it." Ray reached out for him.

"Ray, it could be your mother."

Ray’s eyes went wide in realization. He hadn’t spoken to or seen his Ma for the past two days. He always called her to reassure her that he was still alive. The life of a city cop was a precarious one, and his mother was always worrying about him, the poor woman.

"Damn, Benny. You’re probably right. Okay."

"Let me get your phone, Ray."

A very naked Fraser hopped out of bed and jogged into the kitchen, fetching the cell phone from Ray’s new suit jacket hanging on the kitchen chair. He then jogged back to bed and handed the ringing phone to Ray.

"Uh, Ray? Here’s your phone. Ray?"

"Huh? Oh, okay." Leering at a jogging naked Mountie distracted the detective momentarily, and he finally took his phone.

"Thanks, Bennylove."

Fraser climbed on top of Ray carefully and straddled his slim hips, sitting on his lover as Ray flipped the cell phone open.

"Hello, Ma. I’m sorry, I… oh, yes sir! I’m sorry, I thought you were… sir?"

Fraser frowned as he felt his lover tense under his thighs. Obviously, it wasn’t a call from his mother. Ray pressed his phone tightly to his ear, as if he was trying to block out all other outside noises despite the fact the apartment was deathly quiet.

"I can’t believe it. When? What has the coroner have to say? Is Huey there now? Okay. I’m fine, sir. Yes, I can be there in about thirty minutes, sir. Goodbye."

Ray flipped his cell phone close and he sighed wearily. He then placed his fingertips to his temples, rubbing them and his brows now knitted in annoyance.

"Ray? What is it?"

"That was Lieutenant Welsh. Jeff Gillray is dead. That guy we were staking out last night, Fraser. He was murdered at the docks. Shit."

"How, Ray?"

"Well, Benny, his goddamn head was blown off."

Fraser winced at Ray’s bluntness, especially after experiencing his sweeter and sexier side this past hour.

"Benny, I’m sorry but Lieutenant Welsh wants me at the crime scene, okay? I have to get ready. Damn."

Fraser got up off his lover reluctantly and helped Ray to his feet.

Frowning, the Italian pulled up his gray slacks and he cursed silently under his breath. He was still rock hard. Great! First, he was shot, and now blue-balls.

"If we hurry, Benny, we should make it in time. The traffic shouldn’t be that bad… oh damn."

Ray slumped down heavily on the bed, his hands in his lap. He was frowning again.

"Ray? What is it?"

"I was assuming you were coming with me. Um, you did say you didn’t want to work with me anymore. I mean, that’s okay, you don’t have to come. I don’t want to force you to…"

"Ray, I was very mistaken. I was extremely upset by the events of this morning, and I nearly have gotten you killed…."

"No, Fraser, it’s not your fault! Sometimes bad things happen. I promise you, Bennylove, it would kill me if you were no longer by my side as my partner and friend, okay?"

"I didn’t realize how you felt about me, but I do now. I’m sorry if I have caused you any unnecessary distress, Ray."

Ray now looked utterly confused. "Um, Benny? Does that mean you’re coming with me? Huh?"

"Of course I’ll come with you, Ray, if you’ll have me."

"I’ll have you later on the kitchen table, Bennylove, if you promise to be a very good Mountie. Huh, baby?"

"I’ll be on my best behavior, Ray, you have my word. What else did Leftenant Welsh tell you about the murder?"

"I’ll tell you about it on our way there, but for now you better take a fast shower, Benny. You kinda smell." Ray stared at his naked friend and wrinkled his nose.

"I smell, Ray?"

"I don’t mean you smell bad. I mean, well, you kinda smell like, um, you kinda smell like sex."

"I do! I smell like sex!" Another wide, goofy Mountie grin.

"Damn it, Benny! It doesn’t mean you can throw yourself a party!"

"Uh, no Ray."

"Get your robe on and get your cute Mountie ass into the shower now. We’re going to be late."

"Yes, Ray. Um, Ray?"

"What now, Fraser?"

"I love you, Ray."

"Well, Bennylove, I love you even more."

Instead of reaching for his robe, the Mountie reached his arm around Ray’s small waist and pulled the thin man into his embrace. He kissed him very hard, drowning inside that deep and artful Italian mouth. He just couldn’t get enough of that sweet taste of Ray.

The detective finally broke free and was ready to toss Fraser forcefully out of the apartment.

Fraser finally slipped into his red robe and darted out to the communal bathroom, and Ray washed his hands thoroughly in the kitchen sink, erasing now all sticky traces of their little escapade. His hands still felt a little fatigued and unsteady from the heavy petting action of this morning.

Ray kept staring at his slender hands under the running water.

*Oh my God, these hands fucked Benny! I fucked Benny with my hands! Oh my God!*

Dazed at the realization of what he had done, he numbly walked into the closet to retrieve a fresh new shirt. *I fucked him with my hands! Oh God! My very own hands!*

His fucking hands were now having great difficulty in buttoning his silk shirt. Damn.

He slipped into his suit jacket and sat heavily at the small kitchen table.

Ray just couldn’t get that blissful and heated expression on Fraser’s face out of his mind. He had loved the Mountie for as long as he had known him. And Fraser loved him back! Oh God! Fraser had wanted him too!

Then why did Ray feel that slight unease in his chest, that false calm before the storm? Something bad is going to happen. That’s it. Fraser loved him too. Okay, now where’s the catch?

He couldn’t help feeling this way. All of his past relationships have fallen flat in fiery disaster, one catastrophe after another, and his divorce from Angie will always tear at his soul. As for Irene, well, that was basically an airplane crashing into a train wreck. So, instead of being deliriously happy, Ray Vecchio was boarding up his soul for the upcoming hurricane.

Or maybe it’s just blue-balls?

But this is different, now. Right? This is Benny. This is way different.

This is going to work. God, it has to.

A dripping wet Fraser entered the apartment, smiled timidly at Ray, and he went to the closet to pull out a fresh towel.

"Ray?"

"Yeah, Benny?"

"You want to watch me? I don’t mind. I want you to watch."

"Huh?"

The Mountie offered a very shy and sexy grin, and then slipped off the red robe to reveal a very wet and pale muscular body.

Ray’s mouth dropped as he watched Fraser towel himself off seductively, drying off his broad chest, his flat stomach, his strong thighs, and then his cock just a little too slowly.

Ray shook his head and gritted his teeth. "Fraser, I swear I’m going to wrap my hands around your throat."

"I can’t wait, Ray." Fraser moaned, trying hard not to laugh. He then towel dried his hair.

"I don’t believe you. God, I thought you were so innocent. What’s the world coming to? Damn you, Benny, put on some clothes before you kill me."

The Mountie now dressed himself inside the closet to avoid giving Ray any more undue stress, and he was amazed at the quick turn of events of this morning. Ray lying in the gutter writhing in pain, and later writhing in his bed. Ray blurting out that he loved him, that he needed him. Sometimes bad things happened. Ray had said that. How could he have guessed the avalanche of bliss that came out of this morning’s near tragedy?

For an odd and shameful moment, Fraser wanted to shake hands with the young dumb punk with the gun.

He couldn’t believe the way Ray had touched him with those elegant and gracefully carved hands of his. How many times had he dreamt what it would feel like? He dreamt it this morning at the diner, and in the Riv. Those dreams came no way close to reality.

Fraser never believed he could love again after all that had happened to him nearly two years ago. *She* had nearly destroyed them both and he was almost killed in the process. And for a long time after that, he really didn’t want to be loved. Maybe that’s why he thought once of pursuing his superior Margaret Thatcher, he knew deep down there was the absolute impossibility of such a match.

But here was Ray to turn it all around for him. He truly loved him. Thank God for Ray.

Fully dressed he came out of the closet, removed his stetson from the hat block and glanced over to his lover sitting at the kitchen table looking a little despondent.

Fraser never had a chance to reciprocate Ray’s enthusiasm, his love. Did it always seem that Ray got the short end of the stick? He should have never made Ray answer his cell phone. He’ll make it up to him later, and over and over and over again.

"Ray."

"You ready, Benny?"

"Yes, Ray, I’m ready. Diefenbaker, come!"

The white wolf materialized by their side, and the world now seemed to fall into proper balance around the pack mates.

Fraser, now in his dress reds, crisp and neatly pressed and with his stetson resting firmly on his head, had a glowing wide smile plastered on his handsome face.

It seemed Fraser was wearing a big ‘I got fucked by Ray’ poster board.

Ray felt a slight panic twisting in his stomach as he turned and headed for the door.

The detective stood still at the door, grasping the doorknob, but not opening it. He finally turned around to regard his friend, and now lover.

"Ray?"

"Here we go, Benny. Now at the crime scene we have to act professional, okay? Don’t go licking your lips or go making goo-goo eyes at me, okay? I won’t be able to handle it."

The Mountie looked slightly offended. "I assure you Ray, you can expect no less of me. I take my duties and responsibilities very seriously."

Ray now felt like total a bastard.

He had just been intimate with the guy and he was already insulting him. Maybe he should really be worrying himself and how he would act towards Fraser while on the job. Wasn’t he the emotional and flighty one of the duo? If anyone were going to screw up, wouldn’t it be him?

"Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, Benny. Its just things are so different for us now, and yet the world is still the same, ya know? And once outside your apartment we can only appear as partners, even though we are much more than that, and I’m just not sure of myself."

"Understood, Ray. I trust you completely, you are my partner and best friend and I love you. It will be fine, I promise you." Fraser smiled his reassurance at his lover, touched by Ray’s concern and fear for the recently intimate shift in their relationship.

"Jeez, thanks. Let’s go, Bennylove." Ray smiled and let out a little sigh of relief, and had enough courage to open the door now and to go beyond.

Both men exited the small apartment, but not before Fraser gave his partner a loving pat on the ass.

This is what it’s like to be happy, this is the way it feels – to be where first and always he was surely meant to be.

The Mountie smiled.

--To be continued in Pack Mates – Part 2 The Law

Endnote: While writing this story, it kept growing and growing and it got pretty damn big. So big that I decided to um… slash it into three parts. It made it easier for me to keep track of all these bouncing ideas in my head and to hop from one part to another. I write very much like the way I talk: I don’t know when to shut up.

In this first part of my story, Fraser discusses wolf pack behavior and the rank order of wolves within a pack. My knowledge of wolves and pack behavior is quite limited, and most of my information came from a wolf website http://www.wolf.org/ and from a close friend from college who loves wolves but she is an ornithologist by trade (huh?). If there are any errors in my story concerning the behavior of wolves, or policemen or paramedics for that matter, I beg your forgiveness.

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