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###

Three years ago.

Ray stared down at the little condom wrapper and the tube of KY jelly Fraser'd just pressed into his hand. "You--" He swallowed. "You really want that, Fraser?"

Fraser met his eyes, open and steadfast, and Ray had no idea what the hell was going on in his head. "I would consider it a benefit, yes."

Because that's what Ray had said they were, weeks ago, friends with benefits. They'd been hiding in yet another closet, this one not even a walk-in, and Ray'd realized Fraser was hard too at about the same point Fraser cleared his throat and started apologizing.

Fraser had looked so scared, and all Ray could think was that Fraser was looking at him like he looked at Frannie, like he was about to head for the nearest window and jump out of it. Ray'd wanted to reassure him that it didn't have to mean anything, that Ray didn't expect anything from him, that it was just--that Ray could just give him this, and it was okay.

But it did mean something to Ray. And it wasn't okay, either. The sex wasn't even good, it was awkward and silent and anxious but they kept doing it anyway, and now Fraser wanted Ray to fuck him. Which Ray'd been wanting to do practically since he met Fraser, sure, but suddenly all he wanted was to go home and crawl under his covers and never come out. Because this wasn't what he'd imagined, that was for damn sure.

"Okay," Ray said, and started taking his clothes off.

He tried not to watch Fraser undress, but how was he supposed to resist? In some ways it was his favorite part of this whole mess--Fraser unbuttoning and undoing and pulling over his head, his hands at least seeming certain and eloquent. Fraser's boots left neatly at the foot of the bed with his socks hanging out the tops. Fraser's warm skin revealed piece by piece and it all seemed so ordinary--domestic, even. Then Fraser was naked and climbing onto his hands and knees on his bed. Ray flicked a nervous glance at the curtainless windows as he pulled off his boxers. He wasn't hard, and neither was Fraser. Ray wondered for the millionth time what the hell Fraser wanted this for. Wanted him for.

Maybe he just likes to be fucked. Ray shivered and yeah, now his dick was getting interested. And who else was Fraser gonna ask, right? He climbed onto the bed behind Fraser, clutching the condom and the lube. It took him a couple tries to get the lid off, cursing under his breath, and when he muttered fuck Fraser started to vibrate.

Fraser, this isn't going to work if you don't relax. The words were right there, and Ray couldn't say them. Couldn't even run a hand down Fraser's back. He was a coward, just like he'd always been. Afraid to ask for what he wanted, because once someone knew what you wanted, they could take it away. He smeared KY jelly on his fingers and started working Fraser open.

A minute of that and Ray was hard as a rock. Fraser wasn't talking but he was obviously having to work at staying still. He was panting and Ray'd never realized before that he would be able to pick Fraser's breathing out of a line-up.

He stopped sooner than he wanted to, because this, his fingers in Fraser's ass, it was starting to feel a little too intimate. A little too not-friends. Fraser was bound to notice. So he pushed his cock in instead--Fraser's whole body tensed and then relaxed--and started moving. Carefully, but fast, because he wanted this to be over.

Fraser pushed back suddenly, pushed back and raised a hand to his own dick. Ray's hands shook. He tightened his grip to hide it, letting go hastily at Fraser's gasp. The ugly red marks where his nails had dug into Fraser's perfect skin did guilty, hot things to his insides. Fraser's broad back was spread out beneath him, his dark head bowed, the tense line of his shoulders and the harsh, desperate sound of his breathing--

Ray felt love gushing up inside him like blood from a bullet wound, hot and ugly and more than you expect, and if he opened his mouth it was gonna all trickle out, spatter onto Fraser's back and fill Ray's mouth until he was choking so he didn't say anything, didn't say Fraser's name, he didn't even moan.

Fraser moaned, though. Just once, when he came, and the sound pushed Ray over the edge. And then, suddenly, he could talk again. "You okay, Benny?" he asked. "Let me get you a towel or something."

"In a moment, Ray," Fraser said, still breathing hard. "Thank you."

Now.

Fraser was telling another ghost story. It seemed like he told them more and more as Ray's interest in ever finding the hand of Franklin got less and less. Fraser had a word for that, didn't he? Perversely proportional, or something. Ray wasn't even listening to this one. And Fraser hadn't noticed. Fraser always noticed when you weren't listening to him. He might not call you on it, but he noticed.

Ray was freezing his balls off. He hadn't been warm in months, not really warm, not under-the-covers-with-Stella warm or even under-the-covers-by-himself warm. Even in the bedrolls his face was cold. He was sick of this shit.

"Hey Fraser," he said, shuffling a little closer to the fire.

Fraser broke off mid-sound effect. "Yes?"

"Vecchio and Stella broke up. Vecchio's back in Chicago."

Fraser tried to look like he didn't care, but Ray heard his sharp intake of breath. "Where did you hear that, Ray?"

"Heard it from my mom when I called her from that town yesterday. Stella's staying in Florida for another week to close up the bowling alley, but Welsh gave Vecchio our desk back and he has returned to the Windy City."

"I see."

"You should call him, Fraser. Next time we mush by a phone."

Fraser's eyes narrowed like he knew exactly what Ray was getting at, but he said, "Did your mother think he needed someone to talk to about his separation from Stella?"

And Christ, Ray was so tired of Fraser's bullshit and so tired of being cold. "Look, Fraser, just answer me a question, okay?"

"Certainly, Ray."

"Are you happy up here?"

Fraser blinked. "I hardly see what that has to do with--"

"Answer the question, Fraser. Are you happy?"

"I'm enjoying our time together, Ray."

Ray sighed. "Hey, I like you too, Fraser. But that does not mean I'm gonna let you off the hook here. Are you happy?"

"I was homesick in Chicago."

"Fraser. Are. You. Happy."

Fraser gave Ray a cornered look. "Yes."

"Really?"

Fraser ducked his head. "Well, no, Ray, but--"

"Yeah. And were you happy with Vecchio?"

"I was never with Ray Vecchio," Fraser burst out, loud and fast, which for Fraser was like punching the wall. Ray was getting somewhere.

"Come on, Fraser, do not give me that, the whole station knew you two were doing it."

"Did they?" Fraser didn't look as surprised as Ray expected.

"The Victoria Metcalf case. His fingerprints were all over a tube of slick in your nightstand." When he'd asked to see the file, because clearly some major fucking shit had gone down there seeing as Vecchio'd been suspended and then out on medical leave for a bullet wound a month later, Welsh had looked real serious. Listen, Detective, there's sensitive information in that file. Information about Constable Fraser and Ray Vecchio's relationship. Believe me, no one is asking you to take on that role, too. But we do ask that you keep your mouth shut.

"Ah," Fraser said. And he still didn't sound surprised, and Ray remembered asking Fraser, during the Beth Botrelle case, if he'd ever made a mistake with evidence and Fraser saying No without a second's hesitation.

"You knew they were gonna search your apartment. Why didn't you throw away the lube? Or wipe Vecchio's prints?"

There was a pause. "It was a crime scene, Ray," Fraser said reproachfully.

"Had he just dumped you?" Ray asked quietly. Because that had never made sense to him. Fraser wasn't a cheater. Ray knew that.

Fraser looked away. "We were never together," he said again, and Ray nearly missed the next part because he was getting his I-know-you're-lying yell ready. But Fraser said, "We were friends with benefits," in the most pissed-off tone of voice Ray'd ever heard from him, and Ray shut his mouth with a snap.

"Friends with benefits," he repeated, trying not to crack up. "You and Vecchio."

Fraser nodded sharply.

"That your call or Vecchio's?" Ray was still trying to keep a straight face, because he couldn't even imagine Vecchio saying "friends with benefits."

"It was Ray's."

"Uh-huh." Ray tried to work that one out and failed. "Look, I got no idea why he said that to you, Fraser, but Vecchio loves you."

Fraser flinched. "Ray, I appreciate that your strength is instinct, not logic, but in this particular case, please spare me the conclusions of your gut, as you have little to no evidence on which to draw."

Ray sighed. "I got evidence, Fraser. Circulation in my toes, no. Evidence, yes."

Christ, the way Fraser's head jerked up, his whole face eager before he covered it up. It made Ray feel sad, for a lot of reasons. For Fraser and Vecchio who hid everything, and for Ray who'd never been able to hide jack, plus he was never gonna get to feel hopeful about Stella again. But it was okay, because he was gonna fix this.

"Look, Fraser," he said, "remember when Vecchio got shot?"

Fraser's mouth twisted. "Which time?"

"The time I was there," Ray said, reaching over and giving him a shove. "Freak."

Fraser's mouth actually curved a bit at one corner, and Ray smiled back at him. "I remember it quite clearly," he said.

"You didn't see it," Ray said. "You were taking the bomb's arms off, right? But I was looking at Vecchio. This was not some crazy spur-of-the-moment instinctive thing, Fraser. He saw Muldoon from across the room, and he looked at Muldoon and he looked at you and, and how the big wheely thing was turning and he just did the math."

Fraser looked down, blinking hard. "He was always a far better friend than I deserved," he said softly.

Ray wanted to shake him. "You are missing the point, Fraser! You love a guy enough to do that for him, plus you want to fuck him, then you love him. End of story!"

"Then why--" Fraser started, and then clamped his jaw shut so tight Ray could actually hear it.

"Well, you know, it's not usually too great for a guy's confidence to have all his friends find out in the middle of him being investigated by IA that he was fucking his partner and that his partner threw him over for a sexy bank robber, Fraser," Ray pointed out. "In fact I think that might qualify as humiliating."

Fraser closed his eyes like he was in pain. "That wasn't my intention."

"What the heck did you think was going to happen, Fraser?"

There was a pause. "I have no idea," Fraser said. "I suppose part of me did hope to goad him into saying something. Into saying anything."

Ray shook his head. "You really don't know anything about women, do you?"

"Detective Vecchio is not a woman," Fraser snapped.

Ray snickered. "Uh, sorry, right. Romance, then. I mean, come on, Frase, it's like an interrogation. You know this. You force someone's hand, you scare 'em into talking, you can get a confession. But you better seal the deal right then, you better get it on tape, because when they think it over they're gonna be pissed."

Fraser didn't point out the million times Ray had tried to force Stella's hand. Fraser was a stand-up guy. "I never meant to throw him over. I didn't think he would think of it that way. It seemed that for him what we did was just a satisfying of urges--"

Ray held up a hand. "Okay, Fraser, no need for details."

Fraser gave him one of those corner-of-the-eye smiles. "Understood."

He was silent for so long Ray said, "Polar bear got your tongue, Fraser? The vague version would be good."

"Sorry, Ray. Unfortunately sex does seem to be central to the problem."

Ray rolled his eyes. "You wanted to make sweet, sweet love and you thought he just wanted to fuck, right? How hard is that to say? No urges anywhere."

Fraser smiled at him again, a little sadly. "I'm afraid you've kicked the nail in the head, Ray."

"Are puns the National Joke of Canada, Fraser? Or were you just dropped on your sense of humor as a baby?"

"Probably both, Ray. But I thought Victoria--" He gave a tiny, unamused laugh. "It sounds ludicrous now. But at the time I thought Victoria wanted the same thing I did. I thought I wouldn't be alone anymore."

"Backfired, huh?"

Fraser stared at the fire. "He never touched me again." His voice was hard.

Ray reached over and rubbed his shoulder. Then he pulled his hand back. "Can you even feel that through my gloves and your eight layers of gear?"

"I can, Ray, thank you."

"So what do you say we take a trip to Chicago?" he asked gently. It would be warm in Chicago now. It would be hot. Ray could get the GTO out of storage and drive around the lake with the windows open. Ray could wear a t-shirt.

Fraser slumped, looking as relieved as Ray felt. "I'm not sure that's wise."

"Sometimes you gotta do stupid things," Ray explained. "Like me and Marcus Ellery. It didn't turn out like I thought, but it turned out good, right? At least after, you know you tried. You know it's done."

Fraser nodded. "I'm sorry."

Ray blinked. "For what?"

Fraser gestured helplessly. "Our adventure--this wasn't what I planned."

"Hey," Ray said, grinning. "Sometimes you gotta do stupid things."

Fraser actually laughed, the first time in months, and Ray felt a warm glow inside that had nothing to do with the fire.

###

"Hey look, it's Big Red!" Dewey shouted.

Ray glanced up, not really believing it, and then actually couldn't move for several seconds. Because yeah, that was Benny. Not in his red uniform, in civvies actually, with his hair longer than Ray'd ever seen it. His hair was curling over his forehead and--and Kowalski had a hand on his arm and was talking in his ear. Because of course he wasn't in the 2-7 for Ray. He was here with Kowalski, who'd had the nerve to say what he wanted.

Ray realized that Fraser was watching him. He looked--scared, and when their eyes met he licked his lip and took deep breaths. Okay. Better make this good. Ray closed his eyes for a second, imagined the desert and the mountains and the pungent smell of sagebrush. Not that he needed to. He'd been undercover with Benny long before Vegas, and he'd been good. He stood up with a grin. "Hey, Benny," he called, nice and easy, striding over there like he didn't have a care in the world. "It's great to see you! Kowalski. Scruffy as ever, I see. How'd the frozen North treat you?"

"It was cold, surprise surprise," Kowalski said with a grin, and Ray almost missed the way he shoved Fraser towards Ray. Would have missed it, if Benny hadn't shot Kowalski an irritated glare, but suddenly Ray's heart was racing like he'd just left the starting line and he had to work not to squeeze Fraser way too tight when he went for the friendly hug.

He backed off, looked Benny over. Benny looked like he was facing the firing squad, that was for sure. He squared his shoulders in his flannel shirt and said, "Ray, could I speak to you in private?"

And now Ray's heart was going like he was on the straightaway, last lap, and all he could think was If he asks me to be best man at his and Kowalski's wedding I will kill him, I will beat him to death with a box of staplers I swear to God--

"Sure, Benny. You remember the way to the supply closet, right?"

Fraser coughed, and Ray abruptly remembered that back during that month they were doing it, he'd blown Fraser against a stack of printer paper. He pictured flat endless highways and glaring sunshine and didn't blush.

And then there the two of them were, standing awkward and silent in the small dark space and Ray was tired of it. So, so fucking tired. "Look, are you sleeping with Kowalski?"

Fraser started. "No. No, Ray, I--"

"Do you want to be sleeping with Kowalski?"

"No, actually I--"

Ray reached out in the dark, slid his hand up Benny's shoulder and around to the back of his neck so he'd know where to aim, and kissed him hard. At first he didn't even notice because this was about him telling Benny something, about letting Benny see what he'd never wanted him to see, about how bad Ray wanted him. But after a couple seconds he realized Fraser was kissing him back, silent and desperate and he'd spent years missing the sound of Fraser's heavy breathing.

He'd spent years hating that they'd always done this without speaking.

He pulled back. "We're talking this time," he said raggedly. "I love you. What have you got to say to that?"

There was a moment of stunned silence. He could almost hear Fraser's eyebrows going up, and then Fraser's wry, happy voice said, "Well. That went better than I expected."

###

Ray dragged Fraser through the bullpen by his hand. He was pretty sure that one look at Fraser was enough to tell everyone in the room what they'd been doing. Whatever. They'd all already known anyway.

For the first time, that didn't sting. It just made this easy.

Welsh came to stand in the doorway of his office. "May I ask where you're going, detective? The Krichevsky report does not appear to be on my desk."

"Lead, sir," he lied. "On the Sutton case. I may be following it indefinitely."

Welsh raised his eyebrows. "This lead, it wouldn't have anything to do with the Mountie, would it?"

Ray grinned. "Only peripherally, sir."

Welsh shrugged. "All right, detective, but I'm going to expect your solve rate to crawl back out of the toilet now that Constable Fraser is here. And say hello to the wolf for me."

Ray faltered, because he didn't know if Fraser was staying--surely he was staying, he had to be staying--but he called back, "Understood, sir," and kept going.

###

It was weird, taking Fraser's clothes off in his room that he'd always slept in alone, talking and laughing with Fraser when all his memories of sex in here were of trying to be perfectly quiet while he jerked off under the covers. But it felt right too. It felt like it meant something, finally, to both of them. Benny naked on Ray's paisley comforter, the strip of light that came through the gap in the ancient curtains falling across his stomach. They kept stopping kissing to talk, stupid obvious stuff like I missed you and I'm glad I came back and I'm sorry. Then Fraser said, "Oh, a moment, Ray," and pushed Ray gently off of him to fumble in his jacket pocket.

When he pulled out the condom and the lube, Ray's heart skipped a beat, or maybe time just slowed down enough that it seemed that way. Fraser looked at Ray, open and steadfast and unreadable and it was like traveling back in time. And then Fraser coughed and licked his lip and said, "Will you fuck me, Ray?" Because Ray had said they were talking this time, and Fraser was trying. Fraser had brought supplies. Fraser had hoped. And suddenly Ray didn't just want to fuck him, he needed to.

"I love you, Benny," he said again, roughly, and pulled Fraser back, kissing him sloppy and shaky and Fraser's hand on his arm actually hurt.

When he could stand to stop, he took the stuff out of Fraser's hand and gave him a little push with one hand to get him to turn over. So Fraser did, on his hands and knees. Ray let his eyes run over his Fraser, his eyes and his hands both, because this time he didn't have to hide how much he wanted to. He could lean over and kiss the knob at the base of Fraser's spine, press his cheek to Fraser's back and let Fraser feel that he was shaking.

He pressed his palm over the scar from his bullet. "You didn't have that last time we did this."

Fraser turned his head. "I agree, Ray," he said innocently. "It's been far too long."

Which wasn't what Ray had meant, and he suspected Fraser knew that. But hell, it was true. So Ray put his hands on Fraser's ass, spread his cheeks and just looked.

He couldn't believe this was happening, that he could do this, that an hour ago he'd had nothing to look forward to and now Fraser was naked in his bed. He swiped a thumb across Fraser's asshole and Fraser bucked, giving a startled gasp.

"What's the magic word, Benny?"

"Abracadabra?" Fraser suggested, his smile clear in his voice even though Ray couldn't see his face. Ray took his hands away and pulled back. Fraser tried to twist around and look at him. "Ray?" he asked uncertainly.

"I just--turn over, okay? I want to do it this way."

He watched Benny's face while he slicked him up, that expression of concentration and pleasure he'd never let himself look at for more than a second or two before. "Love you," he whispered again. Now he'd started he didn't know how to stop, it was like he was worried maybe Fraser hadn't heard him the first time, he just wanted Fraser to know.

"I love you too, R--oh!" Fraser said, losing Ray's name as Ray's fingers slipped across his prostate. "Please--please keep talking."

"Anything in particular you want me to say?" Ray asked. Fraser was probably ready by now, but Ray stayed where he was a little longer, kneeling between Fraser's bent legs, his fingers slow and curious and gentle inside him.

Benny gave him a crooked smile, his body clenching around Ray's fingers. "No," he said. "I missed your voice."

Ray had to close his eyes, because God, he'd missed Benny's voice, he'd missed his voice most of all. He'd thought about it, imagined it, dreamed about it, and it had never, not even once, occurred to him that Fraser might feel the same way.

"All this time I felt--oh--I felt like I'd gone deaf," Fraser gasped, and Ray needed closer.

"Yeah, Benny," he said, lifting Fraser's legs until they were heavy and solid on his shoulders like a promise. When he pressed up against Fraser's asshole, Fraser closed his eyes, and taking his time with the lube really paid off because Ray slipped in like a dream. There it was again, the feeling he remembered, love rushing up inside him like a fountain in the desert, flashy and beautiful and too bright, and this time Ray opened his mouth.

He couldn't even hear what he was saying after a while. It was like his mouth was on autopilot. He kept getting snatches of himself saying ridiculous things, like so tight, Benny, so smooth, so perfect, it's like fucking Italian silk or Jesus, do they give sex lessons at Mountie school too?, but he couldn't care because Benny was talking too--you're so warm, Ray and your eyes, there's nothing else that color, not even the Northern Lights are that beautiful a green, I thought I must be remembering them inaccurately even though I have an excellent memory, it just didn't seem credible--Benny was talking and moaning and shoving against him with dull slick noises and it was all a glorious loud mess and when Ray came he thought that might actually have been the Northern Lights behind his eyelids.

###

Ray wasn't sure how much time passed before the doorbell rang. "Who the hell wants something at eleven in the morning?" he grumbled, flinging an arm out and feeling halfheartedly for his pants.

Fraser sat up. "It's Ray Kowalski," he said.

"How do you know?" Ray asked, suddenly nervous--and guilty, too, because he hadn't even remembered Kowalski existed when they left the 2-7, he'd been so eager to get Fraser home. "You guys got a telepathic link or something?"

Fraser raised his eyebrows. "I recognized the GTO's engine," he said, pulling on his boxers and undershirt. "And I forgot my luggage. I'll go let him in."

It took Ray a little longer to get up the motivation to move, but eventually he heaved himself out of bed and into his clothes and followed Fraser.

He stopped at the foot of the stairs like he'd hit a brick wall. Fraser was holding his enormous duffel bag, and Ray couldn't see his face but every line of his back was relaxed and happy. And Kowalski hadn't come in. He was standing on the front porch giving Fraser a wide grin and a congratulatory thumbs-up.

And shit, it was like Ray was back in Benny's cramped hallway watching his life fall apart around him. "Can I talk to Kowalski for a minute?"

Fraser turned around and frowned at him. "Certainly, Ray. I'll--I'll put my things in your room, if that's all right."

Ray watched Kowalski's face as he said, "Yeah, Benny, of course it's all right." Kowalski didn't blink.

Fraser looked between the two of them and headed up the stairs.

Ray marched over to Kowalski. "Listen," he said, low and urgent. "You're not--he's not--?" He didn't know how to finish the question. He didn't know what he was going to do if the answer was yes. He just knew he couldn't stand if if Benny was doing to Kowalski what he'd done to Ray.

Kowalski's grin widened, and he slouched against the doorframe. "Hey, you are not gonna find my prints on his tube of slick if that's what you're asking. Me and Fraser, we're buddies. No benefits anywhere to be seen."

"So you're okay?"

"I am straight, Vecchio. Know it's hard to believe when I'm such a snappy dresser. But when you assume, you make an ass outta you."

Ray looked him up and down. If he was lying, he was even better at it than Ray. And since Ray was the best in the business, Kowalski must be telling the truth. "Okay," he said, relaxing. "You wanna come in? You hungry? I think there's some leftover lasagna in the fridge, or I could fry you up some--"

Kowalski laughed. "You are such a Vecchio, Vecchio," he said. "Thanks, but no thanks. Got things to do, people to call. Speaking of which--Stella's back in town, right? You got her number?"

"Yeah," Ray said. "And I'm sure she'd love to hear from you but she doesn't need a pushy ex-husband right now, so if I hear you been bugging her about trying again--"

Kowalski hunched down and gave Ray a crooked little smile. "Yeah. Don't worry, I think it's time for me to figure out who I am on my own. No Stella or Fraser, just me. It's time I knew, you know?"

Ray didn't have a clue, but whatever. "Sounds magical," he said. "She's at the Travelodge on East Harrison. So that's it? You're shipping out?" Somebody else walking out on Fraser. Poor guy.

Kowalski shrugged. "Maybe. Dunno. But he knows I'll be back. You don't stop being partners just 'cause you don't see each other for a while, right?"

Ray swallowed, tasting Nevada dust in the back of his throat. "Guess not," he said. "Think you can take an hour or so off from your journey of self-discovery to come over for dinner tomorrow night? Ma keeps asking me about you."

He thought for sure Kowalski was gonna say no, but then the guy looked over Ray's shoulder at where Fraser'd disappeared up the steps. "Sure. Gotta make sure you're treating him right, don't I?"

"Hey, you need an excuse to eat scampi, fine with me," Ray said.

###

Later, when Ray and Fraser had taken a weirdly domestic shower together in the Vecchio bathroom--the shower curtain kept getting stuck to Benny's legs--they lay on Ray's bed barefoot and damp and looked at the ceiling. Ray felt that he had never properly appreciated the beauty of his ceiling before. "So when do we get to pick up Dief from quarantine?" he asked.

"Tomorrow," Fraser said. "I'm glad you found another Riviera."

"Me too," Ray said. "You know she was blue when I bought her? I got the last dozen cans of paint that shade of green anywhere in the U.S. I had to drive all the way to--"

"Ray," Fraser said suddenly, "I'm sorry about Victoria. And the fingerprints. I didn't realize--I thought--or perhaps I should say, I wanted--"

Ray opened his mouth to interrupt, to say it was okay--and was completely taken aback to realize it was true. It was okay. "Yeah, Benny," he said softly, and felt for Fraser's hand on the bedspread. "Let's talk about it."