The unaired version, as well as some other interesting differences between the script and the aired episode, can be found in this post by snoopypez. In general this fic takes place in AU-script-land, which is why there may be some dialogue you don't remember or differences in dialogue. The key exchange is this:
Aired version:
Ray: Stupid, right? I mean, if I want anybody to sleep with my sister, and I'm not encouraging this, I'd want it to be you.
Fraser: That's very generous of you, Ray.
Script version:
RAY: (after a moment) It's stupid, right? I mean, if anybody was going to sleep with my sister - and I'm not encouraging this, understand - I'd want it to be you.
A beat, then.
FRASER: But...?
Ray can't respond. He keeps his eyes on the road, troubled.
Beta'd by inseriatim and snoopypez. Thanks for being patient with my angst over the angst!
N.B.: I talked to my insurance agent and what Ray did would not actually be insurance fraud because life insurance and car insurance policies are not affected by the cause of accident. I decided not to care.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and I'm not making any money off this.
###
Three months before Pop Vecchio's funeral, the Vecchio family kitchen, 4 a.m.
Ray wakes up to the sound of his father shouting. Nothing new there, but as he listens he suddenly realizes the crying and screaming part is Frannie, not his mother. He looks at the clock. 3:58. What the hell? He makes his way downstairs and follows the voices to the kitchen. The situation is immediately apparent---Frannie in too much makeup and too little skirt, their father bright red and yelling, "Out till all hours, and look at you! You look like you should be standing on the corner of Rush Street and Franklin. Like the divorce wasn't shame enough! You want to be the talk of the neighborhood? Don't tell me you were just talking, I wasn't born yesterday! I know what you were doing, letting some guy treat you like a whore---"
Frannie's crying hysterically, and he's shaking a finger in her face. Pop has never, ever hit Frannie, not more than a couple of careless slaps when she was being especially snotty, but Ray feels the sharp edge of a memory---I ever catch you doing something like that with another boy again and I will make you sorry you were ever born and bright blinding pain---
He has no idea what he's remembering and he doesn't have time to think about it; he's already standing between his father and Frannie. Even now, at twenty-nine, he has to work at standing straight and sneering and keeping his voice steady when that vein in his father's forehead is throbbing with fury, but he does it. "Don't talk to Frannie that way, Pop," he says.
"Don't you tell me how to talk to my daughter, you disrespectful piece of shit!" Pop gets in Ray's face and Ray struggles not to flinch. He wishes he weren't in his pajamas.
"I'll talk to you however I want, Pop," he says. "And you'll listen, because if you don't, I'm gonna shut down every deal you've got going on in this city. Now back off Frannie."
For a few seconds Pop is actually speechless. "You---you---what do you think supports this family?" he yells. "You'd do that to your own family, take bread out of your sisters' mouths---"
It's too late to back down. Ray's already committed the ultimate betrayal, threatened to do the one thing an Italian boy from his neighborhood doesn't do, not ever, worse even than bringing a Jewish girl home for Sunday dinner: snitch on his family, his blood, to the cops. It's over. "I can support this family if I have to," he says tiredly.
###
Three months after Pop Vecchio's funeral, the Vecchio family kitchen, 4 a.m.
Ray is making hot chocolate by the light from the refrigerator. He wants coffee. He's dying for coffee. He's always fucking tired these days, but his ma would be horrified by caffeine at 4 a.m., so Swiss Miss it is.
"Look at you," Pop says. "Pathetic. I never had insomnia in my life."
Ray grits his teeth. "Maybe if you'd leave me alone, I could sleep. You're dead, for Christ's sake---"
The front door opens, and Ray stops talking. He hears cautious footsteps, and then Frannie appears in the hallway. When she sees him, she looks scared for a second, then draws herself up and stomps into the kitchen. Her bra strap is falling down her arm. "I'm a grown woman," she says defiantly. "It's none of your business who I date or how late I stay out."
"Who was she with?" Pop demands. "I'm gonna break his fingers!"
Frannie gives no sign of being able to see or hear him. No, this is something he saves just for Ray, the firstborn son, like the house and the casual blows and the bad advice on how to be a man. And Ray needs to talk to someone so fucking bad, he's even thought about going to see the shrink at the precinct---but he can't, because if it gets out that he's crazy and they take away his shield, who's gonna support his family?
"Did I say anything?" he asks Frannie instead of answering his father. "I just wanted a goddamn cup of hot chocolate."
"You weren't waiting up for me?" Frannie asks.
"No. Jeez, do I look like Pop to you?"
"Well, you sure sound like him sometimes," Frannie mutters. "Always ragging on us about the electric bill."
"I make twenty six thousand dollars a year!" Ray snaps. "On which princely sum I am supporting this entire family, so---"
"There, you see?" Pop says triumphantly. "You see what I had to put up with? You bust your balls all day taking care of them, and then you get grief if you don't act like Mr. Prince Charming when you come home."
Ray shuts up. Then he says, "Look, Frannie, who you see and what you do is your business. I'm not your father and I'm not your jailor, okay? But if anybody hits you, I'm gonna kill him. Are we clear?"
Frannie snorts. "Get in line, I'll kill him first," she says. "So what are you doing up, then?"
"I couldn't sleep," Ray says shortly.
Frannie's face softens. "Hey," she says, "I miss him too."
"That's my girl," Pop says, and Ray starts laughing. Once he starts he can't stop. Frannie holds him while he laughs and laughs, biting the back of his hand and trying not to wake up Ma.
When Frannie goes upstairs, Ray rubs the tears of laughter off his face and looks at his father. "This has to end," he says.
Pop snorts. "Damn right it does. I thought you were gonna start bawling. I raised a goddamn sissy."
"This can't happen again," Ray says. "Not in front of Frannie, not in front of Ma or Maria. Shit, what if I lose it at work? We'll all be screwed. So you fucking leave me alone, you hear me?"
Pop looks affronted. "You're my son," he says. "I'm entitled---"
"You're entitled to fuck off," Ray says. "You want I should tell Ma and Frannie the brakes on your car were fine? You want I should tell them you wrapped your car around a tree because you were stupid drunk? You want them to know what a goddamn fuck-up you are?" He called in a lot of favors to get the police report changed. He doesn't even know why, except that---it would upset Ma, and you don't let strangers know shameful things like that, about your family.
###
It works, for six months anyway. Maybe Pop just knows better than to show up while Ray is being investigated by Internal Affairs for insurance fraud and falsifying police documents. He never even thought about Pop's life insurance, which Ma collected when he wasn't paying attention and which he now has to pay back without her finding out, and he thinks he made an enemy for life when he flipped his shit at the woman who was sent to interview him for the tenth time.
But eventually Pop's back, because apparently wherever he's at is even more boring than Ray's fucked-up life. Ray learns to live with it. At least Pop doesn't bug him when he's trying to sleep anymore.
He keeps his promise to Frannie, doesn't say a word about the parade of boyfriends she brings home. Sure, he watches for bruises, raised voices, an edge of contempt when they talk to her---but Frannie's got a type, and that type is Absolutely Nothing Like Pop. Even her ex is a mild-mannered accountant. So they're all polite and respectful and neat and treat her good right up until they decide that they'd really prefer a girl with a softer voice and a smaller nose, a little less Chicago and a little more tact. A blind man could see she's shooting herself in the foot, but it's her business and he doesn't say anything.
Until Fraser, that is.
###
It's just Frannie being Frannie, right? So he can't figure out why the hell it bugs him so much.
Is he jealous? Is he mad because girls fall all over Fraser and not him? Nah, that can't be it. Sure, he hasn't dated much since Pop died. Hasn't met anyone he's crazy about, and no one's ever good enough for Pop. Sometimes Ray will be in a restaurant with a girl trying to flirt while Pop is standing there going, "What, you'd introduce this girl to your mother? Look at that sweater. She's been with every guy in this bar, you want sloppy seconds?" It tends to put him off his game. After the seventh girl smiled awkwardly and ducked away when he tried to kiss her goodnight, he kind of gave up. (Course, Pop doesn't like anyone. Sure as hell doesn't like Fraser, although sometimes it seems like he can't decide whether to tell Ray to ditch him or be more like him, going on and on about how maybe if Ray was smarter and knew how to make people like him he'd make detective first class finally. But Ray isn't going to let his Pop fuck this partnership up for him, not when it's the best thing that's ever happened to him.)
But back when Ray made an effort, he could get girls interested. Not like Fraser can, but Fraser is special, Ray gets that. So that's not it.
Does he think if Fraser had a girlfriend it would mess up the buddies thing they have going? He thinks about that one. Would it? Maybe a little. But he and Fraser are solid, he knows that. They've been solid for two years, and God knows he shouldn't begrudge Benny some action. The guy could be a virgin for all Ray knows.
Course, if Frannie and Fraser get together and then have a nasty break-up, it's going to be rough. Will he have to take Frannie's side? That idea worries him for a while, until he realizes it's not going to happen. Fraser practically hides under the bed whenever he sees Frannie coming.
So he has no idea what his problem is, he just knows that every time he sees Frannie standing too close to Fraser or giving him that big fake smile he wants to kill something. He learns to live with it, tune it out. No big deal.
###
Then Frannie tries to seduce Fraser at his apartment. Hell, maybe she succeeds. Everyone at the precinct seems to know but Ray.
And it's killing him. Fraser's not talking, and Ray can't bring himself to ask anyone else. This is his kid sister, he can't---it doesn't seem like Frannie cares if everyone knows, but Ray cares. He doesn't want to gossip about her. So he asks Fraser, threatens and begs him, and Fraser just gives him this pained, anxious look and purses his lips and says no over and over.
And Fraser sure doesn't seem to want to talk to Frannie. They're on the stairs and Frannie's walks by below them saying loudly, "I'm not sure, but I think it was that look in his eyes. You know that long, slow drift from here down to---well, you know. It's so romantic," and doing this gesture that makes Ray want to put her in a convent. And Fraser doesn't watch her go down the hall even though she's wearing her cutest dress. He just looks at Ray with this deer-in-the-headlights expression.
"I'm telling you, nothing better have happened," Ray snaps, and Fraser nods like a bobble-head doll, which is still not a damn answer but Ray has other things on his mind. Doesn't he?
Maybe not, because they're getting in the car, and Ray says, "A long, slow drift? You know how to do that?" You did that to my sister?
Fraser runs a thumb over his eyebrow. "Apparently."
###
The case just pisses him off. Scumbags who kidnap little girls are his favorite. And what's with this bum who sees visions that solve crimes? Why can't Ray's supernatural insanity solve crimes? But no, Pop has never once offered any helpful insight into a case.
And yet Ray's functioning, Ray's going to work, Ray's supporting his family and not freaking out or asking for help, and this bozo is tuning out desperate kidnapping victims and living on the street and going psycho in soup kitchens. And Fraser looks at the guy with this wonder, like he's a fucking miracle.
###
He tries not to think about any of it. But this time he just can't tune it out, years of practice notwithstanding. That night they're driving, the two of them and the wolf in the Riv like a million times before, and Ray can't stand it anymore. "You're not going to tell me, are you?" he asks.
"No, Ray," Fraser says softly.
Benny's looking at him, his face pale and tired like maybe he hasn't been getting a lot of sleep. But when Ray glances over, he drops his eyes and stares at his lap, and Ray grips the steering wheel tighter to keep from yelling. "I'm just going to have to live with this, aren't I?"
"Yes."
"It's stupid, right?" he says, and for once he sounds just as angry and confused as he feels. "I mean, if anybody was going to sleep with my sister---and I'm not encouraging this, understand---I'd want it to be you."
Fraser nods, looking not one bit less anxious. He licks his lip and says, "But...?"
And isn't that the million dollar question? That's just it, that's what's driving him crazy. He doesn't know. And that scares him. Because he sure as hell doesn't understand Fraser, and he doesn't understand this case, and if he can't even figure out himself, what business does he have being a detective? He stares at the road, long and straight and going on forever, and for a second it's like he's stuck, he's forgotten how to turn, forgotten how to speed up or slow down or brake, forgotten how to do anything but follow the road. The moment passes, but nothing really comes to replace the feeling. When did this become his life?
Fraser sinks down in his seat and stares at the road too.
###
They solve the case, and in the rush of euphoria and Fraser's quiet triumph Ray decides it's okay. They're walking down the hallway, and Fraser kinda stops and clears his throat, and then stalls. He moves his hands around helplessly and doesn't seem to know what to say. Ray's not sure he's ever seen the Mountie at this much of a loss for words, not even when faced with lingerie mannequins. So he nods and smiles at Benny, and Fraser gives him a military little nod, and it's okay. They're okay. Ray can be an adult about this. He can. He's not going to ask, he's not going to think about it, he's just going to learn to live with it. No problem.
Which lasts until he gets two feet further down the hall and runs into Frannie. She looks behind him and says, "Hi---where's the Mountie?" in this breathless, hopeful, anxious voice and this is his little sister and this is not okay.
He drags her into the interrogation room and tries to explain that she is living in a dream, that guys like Fraser don't go for girls like her, not for more than a night or two.
She's never gotten it before and she's not going to get it now. "You know what your problem is, Ray?" she snaps. "You're afraid to dream. You're afraid to really reach for something that you want. Well, you know what happens to people like you? They get old, they get alone, and then they die and they never know..." She gives him this look, this scared miserable look, and he feels a startling pang of recognition.
"That's not me," she says, but it is, suddenly Ray knows it is, because these guys she keeps going after---they're not what Frannie wants. And he doesn't know what she does want, what she is looking for, but he thinks maybe she doesn't either.
Then she heads for the door and he's not thinking about what she said anymore, he's asking, "Did you sleep with him?" He sounds desperate, and what the fuck is wrong with him? Why does he care so much about his sister's sex life?
Frannie stops and gives him an irritated look. "Would it matter to you if I did?"
It would. It would matter a lot. He can't say that. "You're my sister," he says instead, simply, and for the first time in years it feels true, like Frannie is part of him, a part he needs.
###
He thinks about what she said, tries to figure out if it's true. But he can't even make it make sense. He can't make it a part of the real world, not Frannie's Cinderella fantasies. Adults don't dream, they do their job and take care of their family and maybe if they're lucky they get a nice car. Dreaming is what you do when you're a little kid and you think it's totally possible that when you grow up you can marry Sophia Loren and be a secret agent. He tries to shove the whole thing to the back of his mind, but it won't go away. A week later he's over at Fraser's eating pizza and he looks at Benny and thinks, He knows everything, right? Maybe he'll know this too.
"Hey, Benny," he says. "Remember you asked me why I cared so much about you and Frannie?"
Fraser looked---hopeful, and that doesn't make any sense. He leans forward. "Yes, Ray."
"I don't know why, Fraser," Ray confesses. "I don't---" He stops, runs a hand over his face. Why is this so fucking hard to say? "I guess maybe I don't understand myself all that well. Frannie said I should---she said I'm afraid to dream, afraid to reach for what I want. And I don't know what I want." He laughs awkwardly. "I'm not sure I can remember ever wanting anything, not like that."
"So, me and Francesca...?" Fraser prompts. He's watching Ray, concerned and focused, and Ray feels warm. Yeah, they're solid. What the hell is his problem? Why's he been giving the guy such a hard time, just for not wanting to kiss and tell on Frannie?
"I guess all I want to say is that I'm sorry I've been such a jerk," he says. "I don't know what my problem is, but whatever it is, it's probably stupid. So look, you do what you want, okay?"
Fraser frowns. "Ray," he says, sounding dismayed, "I don't think that's what Francesca meant. You shouldn't ignore your desires simply because you don't yet understand them."
Ray shrugs, feeling uncomfortable.
Fraser's frown deepens. "Ray---surely you must have wanted something, or---someone."
"I don't know, Fraser," Ray says tiredly. "Even my ex-wife---"
Fraser's jaw actually drops. "Your---" He clears his throat. "Your what?"
Ray feels himself blushing. "Angie, my ex-wife. I guess I don't talk about her much. Ma and Pop always acted like she'd never existed, and I guess---well. Nice Catholic boys aren't supposed to get divorced." He begged her to stay, just a little longer, just till his folks got used to the idea. In the end it was probably for the best that he went first, or Frannie would have been in for an even bigger shitstorm. "Anyway, I loved her, but I mean, when it came down to it I wanted the Riv more than her. It was more like she was my best friend than anything else."
"Like you and me?" Fraser asks carefully.
"No, not at all," Ray says immediately, and then stops. Why the hell did he say that? "I mean---I dunno. We're best friends, right? So it must have been." He thinks uneasily that if Fraser said me or the Riv, there'd be no competition. Hell, there was no competition, the Riv went up in flames.
Fraser looks pleased for some reason. "Hmm," he says. "How about when you were younger---you must have had dreams then?"
"Maybe when I was real small. I never had time for that crap, Benny. I had to take care of my family, I had to protect"---myself, he's about to say, but that doesn't make any sense.
"Yes?" Fraser asks.
"I dunno," Ray says. All he knows is that when he tries to think about dreaming, he gets a sudden urge to duck. "How 'bout you, Fraser? You ever want to be anything but a cop?"
Fraser smiles a little. "When I was thirteen, I wanted to be a professional hockey player with Mark Smithbauer," he says.
Ray grins. That is the cutest damn thing he's ever heard. "What about---what about more recently?" he asks, wondering if he's crossing a line but curious as hell. The Mountie sure doesn't ever talk about wanting anything. "You got things you want?" He swallows. "You reached for anyone?"
Fraser chews on the inside of his bottom lip, then meets Ray's gaze squarely. "Not yet, Ray."
It's not until he's on his way home that Ray thinks to try to apply that to the situation with Frannie. Somehow it didn't feel like it was about that at all. He's trying to puzzle out why not when his pop says, "You have got to get rid of that guy."
"Lay off, Pop," he says tiredly. "I don't think he slept with Frannie."
"No shit," Pop says. "You're like a little kid sometimes, you know that? Just asking to have your goddamn lunch money stolen. That guy is the biggest fucking fag I've ever seen."
Ray nearly drives off the road. "What?"
In the passenger's seat, Pop shakes his head disgustedly. "How you made detective I'll never understand. You didn't see the look on his face when you said you'd been married?"
"Well, sure," Ray says, "but that's just because we're friends and you know, it's kind of weird I never mentioned her."
"You think he thinks that? He ever told you about one goddamn ex-girlfriend?"
And okay, Benny hasn't. "That's 'cause he probably never had any, Pop," Ray snaps. "He's...Canadian."
"No, he's a fucking homo," Pop says.
Ray pulls over.
"See?" Pop says triumphantly. "You know I'm right. So cut him loose before he touches you and you gotta deck him."
Ray takes his hands off the wheel and sits there shaking. Benny, touching him. He's having all kinds of reactions to that and none of them involve punching anyone but his Pop for talking that way about Benny. Jesus. "Pop," he says slowly, "did you ever think that I---"
"Might be a fag?" Pop finishes cheerfully. "Sure. When you were six you said you wanted to marry Steve McQueen."
"I said what?"
"Thank fuck it turned out to just be one of those dumb things kids say," Pop says. "And then there was that time I caught you and your cousin touching each other in the closet at Easter. But plenty of boys do stuff like that. You start to get urges, hair in weird places, you're too young and stupid to know what to do about it. You grew up normal, anyway. I saw to that."
I ever catch you doing something like that with another boy again and I will make you sorry you were ever born, Ray hears.
Jesus. He didn't know. How did he not know? How is that even possible? He thinks about Benny again. Thinks about touching him, and shivers. Everything's brighter, suddenly, everything's clearer and darker and colder and hotter all at once.
He sure as hell knows now.
###
He wants to turn around and drive back to Benny's place, but of course he can't. He drives home instead, and knocks on Frannie's door.
"What?" she demands.
"It's me," he says, awkwardly. "Can I come in?"
A few moments of scuffling noises and Frannie opens the door. She's taken off the vampy blue dress and put on jeans and an old shirt, and her eyes are red and swollen. "Let's not talk about it anymore, okay?" she says.
"I---" Shit. "I think we kind of have to."
She sighs and stands aside to let him into her room. He sits on the edge of her bed and doesn't look at the picture of Fraser stuck in the corner of her mirror.
"Well?" she says after a while.
"Frannie, I---I thought about what you said." His heart is pounding a mile a minute and his hands are cold, but he's gotta do this. "I---you were right. I am afraid to go for what I want. Always have been. Hell, an hour ago I didn't even know what I want. But I thought about it, and---now I do. And I need to know---" How can he do this to Frannie?
But she looks interested, now. "So? What do you want?"
Ray looks her right in the eye. "Fraser," he says.
She looks stunned. "Fraser," she repeats blankly. "You mean, like---like---gay?"
"Yeah," he says around the hard lump in his throat. "Like---" He can barely get the word out. "Gay, yeah."
"And you think Fraser is---"
"Yeah," he says again.
"And you know this how?"
Pop told me, he thinks. "Just a hunch," he says instead.
And just like that, she's angry. "Oh, just a hunch? So you just decided you were gay this minute and you have a hunch Fraser's just gonna fall into your arms? He's too good for me, right? A guy like him and a girl like me, that's a fairy tale. But the two of you, that's---what, Ray, what is that?" Her arms are flailing around like crazy.
"He's not too good for you, Frannie," Ray says, knowing how lame it sounds. "He just isn't right for you." You don't even know him.
"And he's right for you?" She gives him a disdainful up-and-down look that tells him exactly how worthy she thinks he is of Fraser.
Which, yeah, he's not in Fraser's league by any normal standard, he knows that. But Ray thinks about Benny's eyes on him, dark and serious, and Benny standing at his shoulder, always, and Benny's voice when he's making a dumb Canadian joke just for Ray. "I think so," he says. "Frannie, I gotta try. At least---I want to try. But I gotta know if you're okay with that."
She gives a bitter little laugh. "Yeah, sure, you gotta know if I'm okay with that. Because what, Ray, if I say I'm not you're just gonna let this go?"
He stares at her. "Come on, Frannie," he says. "I know we don't always get along too good, but you really think I'd do something like that to you if you asked me not to?"
She looks at him then, really looks. "You're serious."
"Of course I am."
Frannie snorts. "And Pop always said you were the smart one."
"Pop said what?" Ray shakes his head. "No, never mind, I don't care. Look, Frannie, you're my sister. Fraser's just---" A stranger, he's going to say, but that's not right. Happiness, Ray thinks, but he'd feel stupid saying it.
"Just love," Frannie finishes for him, and he figures that's about the same thing. She gives him a small smile. "Look, Ray," she says, "who you see and what you do is your business." She sniffles a little, but her voice is strong when she says, "Are we clear?"
Ray lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Thanks, Frannie."
"So you really think Fraser's gay?"
"Maybe," Ray says. "I sure as hell hope so."
"Well, that would explain why he wouldn't sleep with me," Frannie says, and actually grins at him.
###
Half an hour later he's standing outside Fraser's door again. It's late, he knows that, and Fraser is in his long johns when he comes to the door, yawning. When he sees Ray he straightens immediately, his gaze sharpening. "Ray," he says. "Is everything all right?"
Ray looks at Benny, and it's like being dragged out of the lake after almost drowning, dank water pouring off him and life rushing into his lungs so hard it hurts. "Yeah," he says. "Or---I don't know. But it's not an emergency."
Benny smiles, and then---Jesus, Benny does know how to do a long, slow drift. "Come in, Ray," he says warmly.
They sit at the kitchen table, Ray trying to think of a way to say this without embarrassing himself too badly. There isn't one.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Fraser says, "would you care for a cup of tea?"
"Nah, Benny," Ray says. "I---I got something to say."
"Yes?"
"I---" The words stick in his throat. He told Frannie, and that was hard, sure, but---not really all that bad. But this---Frannie's his family. This is different. "I think I figured out what I want," he manages finally.
Fraser scoots his chair forward until his knee is brushing Ray's under the table. "Yes, Ray?" he asks, sounding almost urgent.
Suddenly Ray wants to tell Fraser something totally different. "Fraser---one time you said---well, I kind of got the idea that maybe---today, when we were talking about Hamlet---look, if I told you I see my pop's ghost, would you think I was crazy?"
Fraser smiles widely. "No, Ray. You too?"
"So you see yours," Ray says in a rush of relief so strong he almost keels over.
"Yes," Fraser says simply. "Do you suppose it's the Chicago air?"
Ray laughs a little hysterically. "Benny, he told me---he thinks---" But he doesn't want this to be about his father. And Christ, Benny deserves better than my father's asshole ghost says you're a faggot and I sure as hell hope he's right. But that's all Ray's got. "I can't say it, Fraser," he says desperately. "I don't know how to say it."
Fraser reaches across the table and puts his hand on top of Ray's. Ray closes his eyes. "Of course you can, Ray," Fraser says. "You can choose to do anything, if you want to."
"I need you to help me out, Fraser," Ray says. "I need---I talked to Frannie, and she says you didn't sleep with her."
Fraser lets out a breath. "No, Ray."
Ray opens his eyes. "Why not?"
"I don't love Frannie, Ray," Fraser says, looking right into Ray's eyes with his hand still on Ray's and how is Ray such a fucking coward?
"I'm sorry," he says. "I---if we're talking about what I think we're talking about---this is something that's scared me so much my whole life I didn't even know about it till today. I'm sorry, Benny."
Fraser smiles at him and squeezes his hand. "It's quite all right, Ray," he says. "The truth is---well, the truth is that I love someone else. And I wished to be faithful to that person even though I had made no formal or informal commitment to them."
Ray takes a deep breath. Them. That's---that's gotta mean---
"Shall I go on, Ray?"
Ray shakes his head. "Thanks, Fraser, but I think I gotta say it." He takes in another deep lungful of air and spits it out. "I'm a queer, Benny. And I want you."
Fraser smiles, that same look of wonder he gave Garrett, but more. There's pride there, and love, and affection, and---heat, Ray realizes with surprise. "I knew you could do it, Ray," he says.
"Is that all you got to say?" Ray asks, pretending to be indignant.
"Well, naturally I want you too, Ray," Fraser says. "I thought that went without saying."
Ray laughs. He knows that in a minute he and Fraser are gonna be kissing, and he wants that too, more than he's ever wanted anything in his life.
He reaches for it.
###
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