TEAM ROMANCE: Day 10, "not my usual thing"
Title: not my usual thing
Author: etben
Team: Romance
Prompt: "You're crossing a line."
Pairing(s): F/V/K, F/V, F/K, V/K
Length: 4,100 words
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: The Mountie And His Rays.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
"-the fuck does he see in you, anyways?"
It's the big question, right now, the one that keeps Ray staring at closed eyelids at night and slides up behind him a couple times each day. It's all part and parcel of this thing they're doing, this show they're putting on: The Mountie And His Rays! None of them know what they're doing, but they keep doing it anyway!
The thing is, Kowalski's not a bad guy, really-hell, some days he's easier to be around than Fraser, what with Fraser occasionally being too good for words, and also kind of a space cadet about some (or, fine, Ray can be honest: most) things. Kowalski usually understands where Ray’s coming from, even if he doesn’t necessarily agree, and that's a good thing, because they neither of them have many friends, any more.
But, see, Ray gets curious, because he has never, never, not-once-in-all-his-life thought Kowalski was hot. Which is fine - except that he wants to know what Fraser sees in the guy. Because, sure, Fraser likes him - but Fraser likes a lot of people, and still somehow manages not to sleep with most of them. Ray's curious, is all. He wants to see the appeal.
It's not really a question he was planning on bringing up any time soon, and definitely not to Kowalski's face, but the circumstances are against him. Circumstance means Fraser has to go back up to Frozenville, see, and fucking circumstance means that Fraser specifically asked Ray and Kowalski to hang out together over the long weekend.
(He said "It would please me if you and Ray - that is, Ray Kowalski - would spend a certain proportion of the available time in each other's company," of course, but Ray knew. Fraser might as well have said it: "Hang out with each other, please, because I don't trust either of you to eat regularly otherwise, and also because I want you two to like each other, for inexplicable reasons of my own.")
So. Here they are: the Mountie's boyfriends, walking in the park. It's not really walking-around-outside weather, but Ray took one look at Kowalski's apartment and said, "fuck no, get your coat, I'm not spending the day in here."
For a second, he'd thought Kowalski was going to punch him in the face, right there in the hallway in front of God and Mrs. Weissman - but then Kowalski had rocked back on his heels and cracked his neck and nodded.
"It's a pit, yeah," he'd said. "Harder to clean without Fraser around, you know?" And the hell of it was that Ray did - Ray absolutely did know how much harder it was to make your bed when you were the only one going to unmake it.
So here they are, walking in the park: the Mountie's boyfriends, one of whom used to he the other one, neither of whom actually know or like each other outside of how they're both in love with a certain Canadian idiot, both of whom are too old and not nearly queer enough for this kind of bullshit.
Kowalski stops and stares at him, long enough that Ray has to shrug, has to look away, has to restate the fucking question.
“What do we do?” Kowalski smirks. “Why do you want to know, Vecchio? You looking for pointers?” He tilts his head back, tapping his finger against his chin, mock-thoughtful. "Well," he says, "Sometimes he sucks me off - he really goes for that, you know? and sometimes he fucks me, which is - you've just got to try it to believe it, man." He's right, too - Ray would not in his wildest dreams have imagined that taking it up the ass could feel like it does with Fraser (like he's about to shake open with pleasure, like somebody's setting off fireworks in his brain, like the world is about to begin all over again).
Ray's getting turned on just thinking about it, on a Sunday morning in a public park, and Kowalski - Christ, Kowalski is still fucking talking.
"Sometimes he likes it the other way around, too," he says, "which is - God, can you even imagine that?" Ray doesn't have to imagine; Ray knows what it's like: Fraser spread out under him, all pale skin and clean sweat, shaking under his hands and gasping into the pillow, pushing his way back onto Ray's dick and moaning -
"And sometimes we sit on the couch and watch the game," Kowalski says, "and sometimes we cook dinner, and sometimes we order a pizza and he yells at me for sharing with Dief, and sometimes we go see old movies, and sometimes he drags me to the Field Museum and spends half an hour staring at the Inuit artifacts, and sometimes he kisses me until we fall asleep - " He breaks off, breathing hard, and stalks off to sit on a bench, face in his hands.
Kowalski's crossed a line - they both have, somewhere, without realizing it. Ray thinks about it for a second, then sits down next to him, far enough that they're not touching but close enough that he can feel the way Kowalski's shaking, all tension and nerves.
"Does he make you buy vegetables, too?" he says, finally. Kowalski doesn't respond - but he also doesn't punch Ray in the face, which Ray is willing to count as a good sign. "Every time we go grocery shopping, it's always, 'Ray, the health benefits of beets are quite extraordinary,' and 'Really, Ray, iceberg lettuce can hardly be said to count as a vegetable,' and - "
"and, 'Ray, my friend, wouldn't you like some broccoli?'" Kowalski sits up a little, smiling. "Which, no, I most definitely would not." He grins again, but this time it's easier, friendlier. It doesn't have teeth in it in the same way, and maybe -
- well. Maybe this isn't going to be so bad, after all.
*
One thing leads to another, as it so often does in Canada, and it's another week and a half before Fraser comes back. In that time, Ray and Kowalski grab lunch together five times, deal with violent break-ins at four libraries, stay late at the station three times, stake out two separate buildings together, and go grocery shopping once. They get into too many fights to actually count, but they don't actually punch each other at all.
What with all of this togetherness time, they talk a lot.
"It's probably a good thing," Kowalski says. "I mean, you know Fraser'll be glad to hear it." And Fraser maybe even has a point, here. They've got a job and a name and a partner and an ex-wife and a boyfriend in common, and Ray doesn't really know anything about this guy. Talking: possibly not such a bad idea after all.
The thing is, neither of them really want to talk about the job during work, and there's only so much they can say about Chicago.
"And we're not talking about Stella," Kowalski said, first night on stakeout.
"Fuck, no," Ray had replied, and that had been the end of that.
They talk about Fraser a lot - mostly Stupid Shit What Our Mutual Mountie Partner Has Done, of which there is rather a lot, but eventually they always seem to wind up talking about sex: what they've done, what they've liked, what they've always wanted to try. There's a fair amount of overlap, of course, on account of Fraser and Stella, but not as much as Ray would have expected, had he ever considered sitting in a car discussing his sex life with Kowalski.
And every night, when he gets home, Ray jerks off. Sometimes more than once, and sometimes again in the morning when he wakes up. It's just because Fraser's gone, really - he's gotten used to regular sex again, and it's hard to give that kind of thing up.
So maybe he spends a little more time looking at Kowalski than he used to - so what's wrong with that? Curiosity is natural, after all. It's not that he wants to fuck Kowalski or anything like that. Just - Fraser clearly does, and Ray's a big enough man to admit that it'd be hot.
On the second day, Sunday night, they go to his mom's place for dinner. Ray winds up on dish duty, of course, with Frannie drying, telling him about life at the 1-8.
"I wish I had someone like you do," she says. "I mean, the guys are great and all - but they're not used to a modern woman, you know?" She sighs. "I keep having to prove myself, every day I have to prove myself, and what's the point, you know?"
"It gets easier," Ray tells her, handing her a plate. "Really, Frannie, it does."
"Yeah, sure," she says, flipping her hair out of her face. "You're one to talk, Mr. My Partner Knows Everything About Me."
"Fraser's pretty great, yeah," he says, pulling the plug and watching the water drain.
Frannie snorts. "Fraser's a freak, bro," she says. "Even I can tell that, now." She tilts her head towards the living room, where Kowalski's making nice with Ma, making her laugh and talking up her cooking. "I was talking about him."
Which leaves Ray in the kitchen with soapy hands and a whole lot of confusion, which is just great.
Fraser gets back just in time to help them catch the book-stealing criminal, one Zellig Harris, and drag him in for questioning. That would be it - that should be it - but somehow the presence of Fraser makes everything weirder by a factor of lots, and they wind up back on the streets, trying to track down Sapir, Whorf, and Boas, his accomplices, who appear to be armed, violent, and completely insane.
They do it, of course, but it takes another two days. Ray naps on Kowalski's couch, in the guestroom at the Consulate, on a cot in Interview Three. Kowalski, for his part, sacks out in the back of his car while Ray and Fraser are up front, watching Boas' building, and then later passes out face-down on his desk in the middle of the writeup.
Fraser doesn't sleep at all - "But, Ray, you should bear in mind that I've had a much more restful two weeks than you have."
Which is probably true.
Once Harris, Sapir, Whorf, and Boas are all in custody, it's late enough that they all head home, nodding and waving; Ray only barely manages to get out of his clothes before he's falling into bed.
The next day, though, things are quiet at the 2-7, which gives Ray plenty of time to notice that Fraser is back in Chicago, has in fact been back for more than 48 hours, and Ray has not yet touched him in any ways other than the strictly-business keep-your-partner-from-walking-into-a-bullet ways, has not even kissed him.
Kowalski's feeling the same way, too - it's obvious from the way he watches Fraser, steady and intent and hot. It takes him a few seconds to respond whenever anyone tries to get his attention, too - a little lag, a moment while he re-adjusts his brain to the real world, out of fantasyland. It's not a big thing, not long enough that anyone else would notice, but it's clear as anything to Ray.
It's not until they're out at lunch, sitting in the booth of some restaurant Fraser wanted to try, that Ray realizes the problem with their particular situation. He's sitting on the same side of the booth as Kowalski, so there's no way to catch his eye and try to communicate like that. Ray's stuck fidgeting, staring at Fraser and glancing at Kowalski, wondering who Fraser's going to go home with tonight.
In the end, though, it doesn't matter; Kowalski drags him into the supply closet at work as soon as they get back from lunch.
"Look, Vecchio," he says. "I know and you know that we can't both ask Fraser to stay the night; he won't be able to choose and it'll make him crazy." Which is pretty much the size and shape of it, and trust Kowalski not to pussyfoot around. Ray nods, and Kowalski nods back, then glances away.
And the hell of it is, if Kowalski asks for tonight - if he looks Ray in the eye and says, Vecchio, I need this, if he says please - Ray's not going to be able to resist. Ray's going to say sure, and he's going to say go ahead, and he's going to go home to his apartment alone and jerk off. Pretty lousy way to spend a Friday night, on the whole.
"- you take tonight," Kowalski says, and Ray blinks. Kowalski grins, a little sheepish, and shrugs. "I'll have a beer, watch the game - I can wait, it's cool."
When it's time to go, Kowalski waves them into Ray's car, leaning against the wall of the building and smoking. Fraser waves back, but doesn't say anything to Ray, and when he looks over, sure enough, Fraser's frowning, puzzled and a little annoyed.
"He offered," Ray says. "I wouldn't have asked, and neither one of us wanted to make you choose - I mean," he adds, swallowing hard, "If you want, I can take you over - if you'd rather - "
"No, Ray," Fraser says. "I want to go home with you." He's silent again, but when Ray glances over at the next light he gets a smile and a small, careful kiss, so that's okay.
Ray isn't thinking about Kowalski at all, that night - and from the noises Fraser's making, neither is he. The world narrows down to the two of them, curled together in Ray's bed, arching together, biting and kissing and touching, sweaty and aching and moaning. They fall asleep pressed together, wake up the same way and start it all over again, slower and lazier and so good Ray is almost ready to die from it, this, here, now.
Around lunchtime, though, Fraser gets dressed.
"There's a photography exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art," he says, buttoning his jeans. "Ray and I had planned to go - it's supposed to be quite interesting." Two weeks ago, Ray would have laughed at that - but two weeks ago, he hadn't really known Kowalski very well. "You're welcome to join us, of course," Fraser adds, but Ray shakes his head, holding up Fraser's coat and unlocking the door.
"Go," he says. "Tell Kowalski I said hi, yeah?" Fraser smiles at him, kisses him again, and then he's gone.
Ray tries not to think about Kowalski that day - tries to think just about Fraser, or better yet about something completely unrelated - but it doesn't work. He turns on the TV, catches some hockey by accident, and wastes a perfectly good twenty minutes trying to care - Kowalski's missing the game; he'll be a pain in the ass on Monday.
When he remembers the reason Kowalski's missing the game, he changes the channel.
He gets up to get dinner, eventually, and grins at the ache in his hip, remembering how it got there, about Fraser spreading him out and pinning him down on the bed, sucking him off slow and dirty until all Ray could do was moan. He doesn't think about how Fraser learned that particular trick, doesn't think about Kowalski, leaning against the side of the car and grinning around his cigarette, telling Ray what it was like, having Fraser held down and under his power.
There's broccoli in his fridge - which, of course there is, because he went grocery shopping with Kowalski, the two of them getting ready for Fraser to come back, stocking their fridges with healthy things. Ray wound up with the better end of the deal, really; Kowalski's got swiss chard in his fridge and no idea what to do with it. Broccoli you can at least steam.
He doesn't, though; he orders chinese and goes to bed early. It's not that bad, really.
The next day, the broccoli's still there, looking at him like it's got something to prove. Ray wastes some time in a staring match with a vegetable, then gives in and makes his phone calls, drags out the cookbook his Ma gave him and flips through the pages.
Fraser and Kowalski arrive separately, which is a nice surprise. Kowalski's first, and he and Ray chop vegetables and shoot the shit.
"How was the art?" Ray asks, slicing tomatoes. Kowalski smiles, slow and a little secret.
"It was good," he says. "Not my usual thing, but - pretty good, yeah."
Fraser gets there a few minutes later, telling some completely ridiculous - and therefore probably true - story about professional chefs and an argument over scones. He shakes his head when Ray offers him a beer, so Ray hands it to Kowalski, and together they tease Fraser about the cooks - "well, technically, they were patisseries, Ray, Ray" - until the sauce is simmering.
Afterwards, Ray leans back in his seat and sighs. Across the table, Kowalski's doing the same thing, polishing off the rest of his beer in one long swallow.
Not that Ray is looking or anything - just, Kowalski is right across the table from him.
"You're on dish duty," Kowalski says, tipping the bottle to point at Fraser. "We cooked; you're cleaning." Fraser doesn't protest, either, just stacks up the plates and heads into the kitchen. After a minute, they can hear running water, the clink of plates on plates, Fraser humming to himself.
"You know he only did that because he didn't think we would," Ray says, and Kowalski nods.
"Yeah, but it's also true, Vecchio." He's got a point there.
Fraser, being Fraser, walked over from the Consulate, and doesn't let either of them offer him a ride back. Ray catches Kowalski's eye, and they shrug at each other - he's Fraser, what are you going to do about him? - before Kowalski ducks into his car and drives off.
*
Now that Fraser's back from the frozen Northlands, levels of crazy are back somewhere near "batshit", all psycho plumbers and rampaging anthropologists. During the week, they're mostly busy enough that they all go their separate ways.
Weekends, though - weekends settle into a routine pretty quickly. It's not like they schedule it or anything, but it always winds up the same basic way. Fraser spends one night with Ray, one night with Kowalski, and then the last night with both of them, eating dinner at Ray's or going out for pizza or watching old movies at some crazy college theater.
Ray jerks off a lot, but he figures he's entitled; he's only getting laid once a week. Fraser's supply-closet blowjobs don't count, not really - Ray can't see anything, and the shelves dig into his back, and there's barely even enough time to reciprocate.
Maybe a month on, Ray comes back from helping Frannie with her drains to an apartment that smells like roasting garlic and hot bread. He walks into the kitchen and freezes, staring.
"Ray!" Fraser frowns, glances at the clock. "Francesca said - I mean, we weren't expecting you."
"What the - you guys planned this?"
Kowalski turns around, grins at Ray, rolls his eyes. "Don't blame me," he says, still stirring the pot on the stove. "I'm just the hired help."
Turns out it was all Fraser's idea - cook Ray a nice meal, as a thank you for cooking for them so often. Of course, they couldn't ask: turns out Frannie's whole "leaky pipes" thing was supposed to be a fake, a ploy to get him out of the apartment for a while. For all that Fraser's the poster boy for the simple life, things tend to complicate themselves as soon as he gets involved.
"This means you have to wash up, though," Kowalski says, handing Ray a beer. "I mean, you don't get a surprise dinner for free."
Dinner is good, better than he would have expected from Fraser and Kowalski, and Fraser, the overgrown Boy Scout, put most of the pans in to soak, so there's not even that much to wash. Ray comes back out into the living room, wiping his hands on a towel, thinking about maybe turning on the TV -
- and freezes, because Fraser and Kowalski are standing in the middle of his living room, wrapped around each other, kissing like the world might end in the next twenty seconds.
Ray's not even sure they're wrong.
"Ray," Fraser says, "Ray, I'm so sorry - "
"No," Ray says, stepping back. "No, you - I mean, it's okay." And, really, it is - it's weird, but it's not like he didn't know they did this, not like he didn't know how it was between them. Like him and Fraser, really, only nothing at all like that.
Fraser looks vaguely guilty, a lot relieved; Kowalski is smirking.
"The fuck are you looking at?" Ray says. He's not going to punch Kowalski for kissing Fraser, but that doesn't mean he won't punch Kowalski for being an asshole.
"Could ask you the same question, Vecchio," Kowalski says. His arm is still around Fraser's back, one finger tucked in Fraser's belt loop, and he fiddles with it while he stares at Ray. "You want to join us?"
"No," Ray says, and he means to back up, means to go back into the kitchen and leave them to it, but he hits the doorframe instead and stops, staring.
"You sure?" Kowalski's fingers go a little white at the knuckles. "Maybe you should stop eyefucking me at work, then." He's talking tough, but his voice is a little rough, a little shaky, like maybe he's not so sure of himself, like maybe he's worried - like maybe he's been jerking off every night, too, and again in the mornings, not sure what to think about.
"What if I do, then," Ray says, glancing between the two of them. "What if I want to join you? You telling me you'd be okay with that?"
"I would." It's the first thing Fraser's said in a while; Ray jumps, staring over at him, and so does Kowalski. Fraser blushes, glancing between the two of them, and then steps forward, towards Ray. Kowalski follows behind him, pulled along like a toy on a string. "I love you both very much," Fraser says, staring at Ray. "To have you both with me - to see the two of you together - " he steps forward again, again, until he's right up in Ray's space, breathing Ray's air. "I would like that very much."
"And it was my idea in the first place," Kowalski adds, leaning over Fraser's shoulder, "so I think we all know how I feel about it." Ray stares at him, and he grins. "What, Vecchio," he says, "You really surprised?"
Ray remembers, staring at Kowalski, remembers Kowalski staring back, remembers a thousand different conversations crossing a dozen different lines. He's really not surprised at all.
"Well, come on," Kowalski says. "What're you going to do, Vecchio?"
What Ray's going to do, as it turns out, is lean forward and kiss Kowalski, tentative and uncertain, leaning against Fraser's shoulder to reach. Kowalski sits there and lets him do it, kisses back slow and gentle, feeling out the shape of this. Fraser makes a noise in the back of his throat, and his hand settles onto Ray's hip, warm and familiar. He kisses Ray's temple, Kowalski's cheek, and Ray kisses Kowalski again, less carefully.
Kowalski bites his lip, and pulls back, grinning. Ray looks between the two of them, up-close and out of focus, and smiles. It's crazy, completely certifiable - but none of them are what you'd really call sane to begin with, either.
As he leans in to kiss Fraser, it strikes him that it shouldn't really be a surprise. They're The Mountie And His Rays, after all.
**
THIS POLL IS NOW CLOSED. ANY FURTHER VOTES WILL NOT BE COUNTED.
Poll Vote for this story
Author: etben
Team: Romance
Prompt: "You're crossing a line."
Pairing(s): F/V/K, F/V, F/K, V/K
Length: 4,100 words
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: The Mountie And His Rays.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Prompt and Team (Genre) information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
"-the fuck does he see in you, anyways?"
It's the big question, right now, the one that keeps Ray staring at closed eyelids at night and slides up behind him a couple times each day. It's all part and parcel of this thing they're doing, this show they're putting on: The Mountie And His Rays! None of them know what they're doing, but they keep doing it anyway!
The thing is, Kowalski's not a bad guy, really-hell, some days he's easier to be around than Fraser, what with Fraser occasionally being too good for words, and also kind of a space cadet about some (or, fine, Ray can be honest: most) things. Kowalski usually understands where Ray’s coming from, even if he doesn’t necessarily agree, and that's a good thing, because they neither of them have many friends, any more.
But, see, Ray gets curious, because he has never, never, not-once-in-all-his-life thought Kowalski was hot. Which is fine - except that he wants to know what Fraser sees in the guy. Because, sure, Fraser likes him - but Fraser likes a lot of people, and still somehow manages not to sleep with most of them. Ray's curious, is all. He wants to see the appeal.
It's not really a question he was planning on bringing up any time soon, and definitely not to Kowalski's face, but the circumstances are against him. Circumstance means Fraser has to go back up to Frozenville, see, and fucking circumstance means that Fraser specifically asked Ray and Kowalski to hang out together over the long weekend.
(He said "It would please me if you and Ray - that is, Ray Kowalski - would spend a certain proportion of the available time in each other's company," of course, but Ray knew. Fraser might as well have said it: "Hang out with each other, please, because I don't trust either of you to eat regularly otherwise, and also because I want you two to like each other, for inexplicable reasons of my own.")
So. Here they are: the Mountie's boyfriends, walking in the park. It's not really walking-around-outside weather, but Ray took one look at Kowalski's apartment and said, "fuck no, get your coat, I'm not spending the day in here."
For a second, he'd thought Kowalski was going to punch him in the face, right there in the hallway in front of God and Mrs. Weissman - but then Kowalski had rocked back on his heels and cracked his neck and nodded.
"It's a pit, yeah," he'd said. "Harder to clean without Fraser around, you know?" And the hell of it was that Ray did - Ray absolutely did know how much harder it was to make your bed when you were the only one going to unmake it.
So here they are, walking in the park: the Mountie's boyfriends, one of whom used to he the other one, neither of whom actually know or like each other outside of how they're both in love with a certain Canadian idiot, both of whom are too old and not nearly queer enough for this kind of bullshit.
Kowalski stops and stares at him, long enough that Ray has to shrug, has to look away, has to restate the fucking question.
“What do we do?” Kowalski smirks. “Why do you want to know, Vecchio? You looking for pointers?” He tilts his head back, tapping his finger against his chin, mock-thoughtful. "Well," he says, "Sometimes he sucks me off - he really goes for that, you know? and sometimes he fucks me, which is - you've just got to try it to believe it, man." He's right, too - Ray would not in his wildest dreams have imagined that taking it up the ass could feel like it does with Fraser (like he's about to shake open with pleasure, like somebody's setting off fireworks in his brain, like the world is about to begin all over again).
Ray's getting turned on just thinking about it, on a Sunday morning in a public park, and Kowalski - Christ, Kowalski is still fucking talking.
"Sometimes he likes it the other way around, too," he says, "which is - God, can you even imagine that?" Ray doesn't have to imagine; Ray knows what it's like: Fraser spread out under him, all pale skin and clean sweat, shaking under his hands and gasping into the pillow, pushing his way back onto Ray's dick and moaning -
"And sometimes we sit on the couch and watch the game," Kowalski says, "and sometimes we cook dinner, and sometimes we order a pizza and he yells at me for sharing with Dief, and sometimes we go see old movies, and sometimes he drags me to the Field Museum and spends half an hour staring at the Inuit artifacts, and sometimes he kisses me until we fall asleep - " He breaks off, breathing hard, and stalks off to sit on a bench, face in his hands.
Kowalski's crossed a line - they both have, somewhere, without realizing it. Ray thinks about it for a second, then sits down next to him, far enough that they're not touching but close enough that he can feel the way Kowalski's shaking, all tension and nerves.
"Does he make you buy vegetables, too?" he says, finally. Kowalski doesn't respond - but he also doesn't punch Ray in the face, which Ray is willing to count as a good sign. "Every time we go grocery shopping, it's always, 'Ray, the health benefits of beets are quite extraordinary,' and 'Really, Ray, iceberg lettuce can hardly be said to count as a vegetable,' and - "
"and, 'Ray, my friend, wouldn't you like some broccoli?'" Kowalski sits up a little, smiling. "Which, no, I most definitely would not." He grins again, but this time it's easier, friendlier. It doesn't have teeth in it in the same way, and maybe -
- well. Maybe this isn't going to be so bad, after all.
*
One thing leads to another, as it so often does in Canada, and it's another week and a half before Fraser comes back. In that time, Ray and Kowalski grab lunch together five times, deal with violent break-ins at four libraries, stay late at the station three times, stake out two separate buildings together, and go grocery shopping once. They get into too many fights to actually count, but they don't actually punch each other at all.
What with all of this togetherness time, they talk a lot.
"It's probably a good thing," Kowalski says. "I mean, you know Fraser'll be glad to hear it." And Fraser maybe even has a point, here. They've got a job and a name and a partner and an ex-wife and a boyfriend in common, and Ray doesn't really know anything about this guy. Talking: possibly not such a bad idea after all.
The thing is, neither of them really want to talk about the job during work, and there's only so much they can say about Chicago.
"And we're not talking about Stella," Kowalski said, first night on stakeout.
"Fuck, no," Ray had replied, and that had been the end of that.
They talk about Fraser a lot - mostly Stupid Shit What Our Mutual Mountie Partner Has Done, of which there is rather a lot, but eventually they always seem to wind up talking about sex: what they've done, what they've liked, what they've always wanted to try. There's a fair amount of overlap, of course, on account of Fraser and Stella, but not as much as Ray would have expected, had he ever considered sitting in a car discussing his sex life with Kowalski.
And every night, when he gets home, Ray jerks off. Sometimes more than once, and sometimes again in the morning when he wakes up. It's just because Fraser's gone, really - he's gotten used to regular sex again, and it's hard to give that kind of thing up.
So maybe he spends a little more time looking at Kowalski than he used to - so what's wrong with that? Curiosity is natural, after all. It's not that he wants to fuck Kowalski or anything like that. Just - Fraser clearly does, and Ray's a big enough man to admit that it'd be hot.
On the second day, Sunday night, they go to his mom's place for dinner. Ray winds up on dish duty, of course, with Frannie drying, telling him about life at the 1-8.
"I wish I had someone like you do," she says. "I mean, the guys are great and all - but they're not used to a modern woman, you know?" She sighs. "I keep having to prove myself, every day I have to prove myself, and what's the point, you know?"
"It gets easier," Ray tells her, handing her a plate. "Really, Frannie, it does."
"Yeah, sure," she says, flipping her hair out of her face. "You're one to talk, Mr. My Partner Knows Everything About Me."
"Fraser's pretty great, yeah," he says, pulling the plug and watching the water drain.
Frannie snorts. "Fraser's a freak, bro," she says. "Even I can tell that, now." She tilts her head towards the living room, where Kowalski's making nice with Ma, making her laugh and talking up her cooking. "I was talking about him."
Which leaves Ray in the kitchen with soapy hands and a whole lot of confusion, which is just great.
Fraser gets back just in time to help them catch the book-stealing criminal, one Zellig Harris, and drag him in for questioning. That would be it - that should be it - but somehow the presence of Fraser makes everything weirder by a factor of lots, and they wind up back on the streets, trying to track down Sapir, Whorf, and Boas, his accomplices, who appear to be armed, violent, and completely insane.
They do it, of course, but it takes another two days. Ray naps on Kowalski's couch, in the guestroom at the Consulate, on a cot in Interview Three. Kowalski, for his part, sacks out in the back of his car while Ray and Fraser are up front, watching Boas' building, and then later passes out face-down on his desk in the middle of the writeup.
Fraser doesn't sleep at all - "But, Ray, you should bear in mind that I've had a much more restful two weeks than you have."
Which is probably true.
Once Harris, Sapir, Whorf, and Boas are all in custody, it's late enough that they all head home, nodding and waving; Ray only barely manages to get out of his clothes before he's falling into bed.
The next day, though, things are quiet at the 2-7, which gives Ray plenty of time to notice that Fraser is back in Chicago, has in fact been back for more than 48 hours, and Ray has not yet touched him in any ways other than the strictly-business keep-your-partner-from-walking-into-a-bullet ways, has not even kissed him.
Kowalski's feeling the same way, too - it's obvious from the way he watches Fraser, steady and intent and hot. It takes him a few seconds to respond whenever anyone tries to get his attention, too - a little lag, a moment while he re-adjusts his brain to the real world, out of fantasyland. It's not a big thing, not long enough that anyone else would notice, but it's clear as anything to Ray.
It's not until they're out at lunch, sitting in the booth of some restaurant Fraser wanted to try, that Ray realizes the problem with their particular situation. He's sitting on the same side of the booth as Kowalski, so there's no way to catch his eye and try to communicate like that. Ray's stuck fidgeting, staring at Fraser and glancing at Kowalski, wondering who Fraser's going to go home with tonight.
In the end, though, it doesn't matter; Kowalski drags him into the supply closet at work as soon as they get back from lunch.
"Look, Vecchio," he says. "I know and you know that we can't both ask Fraser to stay the night; he won't be able to choose and it'll make him crazy." Which is pretty much the size and shape of it, and trust Kowalski not to pussyfoot around. Ray nods, and Kowalski nods back, then glances away.
And the hell of it is, if Kowalski asks for tonight - if he looks Ray in the eye and says, Vecchio, I need this, if he says please - Ray's not going to be able to resist. Ray's going to say sure, and he's going to say go ahead, and he's going to go home to his apartment alone and jerk off. Pretty lousy way to spend a Friday night, on the whole.
"- you take tonight," Kowalski says, and Ray blinks. Kowalski grins, a little sheepish, and shrugs. "I'll have a beer, watch the game - I can wait, it's cool."
When it's time to go, Kowalski waves them into Ray's car, leaning against the wall of the building and smoking. Fraser waves back, but doesn't say anything to Ray, and when he looks over, sure enough, Fraser's frowning, puzzled and a little annoyed.
"He offered," Ray says. "I wouldn't have asked, and neither one of us wanted to make you choose - I mean," he adds, swallowing hard, "If you want, I can take you over - if you'd rather - "
"No, Ray," Fraser says. "I want to go home with you." He's silent again, but when Ray glances over at the next light he gets a smile and a small, careful kiss, so that's okay.
Ray isn't thinking about Kowalski at all, that night - and from the noises Fraser's making, neither is he. The world narrows down to the two of them, curled together in Ray's bed, arching together, biting and kissing and touching, sweaty and aching and moaning. They fall asleep pressed together, wake up the same way and start it all over again, slower and lazier and so good Ray is almost ready to die from it, this, here, now.
Around lunchtime, though, Fraser gets dressed.
"There's a photography exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art," he says, buttoning his jeans. "Ray and I had planned to go - it's supposed to be quite interesting." Two weeks ago, Ray would have laughed at that - but two weeks ago, he hadn't really known Kowalski very well. "You're welcome to join us, of course," Fraser adds, but Ray shakes his head, holding up Fraser's coat and unlocking the door.
"Go," he says. "Tell Kowalski I said hi, yeah?" Fraser smiles at him, kisses him again, and then he's gone.
Ray tries not to think about Kowalski that day - tries to think just about Fraser, or better yet about something completely unrelated - but it doesn't work. He turns on the TV, catches some hockey by accident, and wastes a perfectly good twenty minutes trying to care - Kowalski's missing the game; he'll be a pain in the ass on Monday.
When he remembers the reason Kowalski's missing the game, he changes the channel.
He gets up to get dinner, eventually, and grins at the ache in his hip, remembering how it got there, about Fraser spreading him out and pinning him down on the bed, sucking him off slow and dirty until all Ray could do was moan. He doesn't think about how Fraser learned that particular trick, doesn't think about Kowalski, leaning against the side of the car and grinning around his cigarette, telling Ray what it was like, having Fraser held down and under his power.
There's broccoli in his fridge - which, of course there is, because he went grocery shopping with Kowalski, the two of them getting ready for Fraser to come back, stocking their fridges with healthy things. Ray wound up with the better end of the deal, really; Kowalski's got swiss chard in his fridge and no idea what to do with it. Broccoli you can at least steam.
He doesn't, though; he orders chinese and goes to bed early. It's not that bad, really.
The next day, the broccoli's still there, looking at him like it's got something to prove. Ray wastes some time in a staring match with a vegetable, then gives in and makes his phone calls, drags out the cookbook his Ma gave him and flips through the pages.
Fraser and Kowalski arrive separately, which is a nice surprise. Kowalski's first, and he and Ray chop vegetables and shoot the shit.
"How was the art?" Ray asks, slicing tomatoes. Kowalski smiles, slow and a little secret.
"It was good," he says. "Not my usual thing, but - pretty good, yeah."
Fraser gets there a few minutes later, telling some completely ridiculous - and therefore probably true - story about professional chefs and an argument over scones. He shakes his head when Ray offers him a beer, so Ray hands it to Kowalski, and together they tease Fraser about the cooks - "well, technically, they were patisseries, Ray, Ray" - until the sauce is simmering.
Afterwards, Ray leans back in his seat and sighs. Across the table, Kowalski's doing the same thing, polishing off the rest of his beer in one long swallow.
Not that Ray is looking or anything - just, Kowalski is right across the table from him.
"You're on dish duty," Kowalski says, tipping the bottle to point at Fraser. "We cooked; you're cleaning." Fraser doesn't protest, either, just stacks up the plates and heads into the kitchen. After a minute, they can hear running water, the clink of plates on plates, Fraser humming to himself.
"You know he only did that because he didn't think we would," Ray says, and Kowalski nods.
"Yeah, but it's also true, Vecchio." He's got a point there.
Fraser, being Fraser, walked over from the Consulate, and doesn't let either of them offer him a ride back. Ray catches Kowalski's eye, and they shrug at each other - he's Fraser, what are you going to do about him? - before Kowalski ducks into his car and drives off.
*
Now that Fraser's back from the frozen Northlands, levels of crazy are back somewhere near "batshit", all psycho plumbers and rampaging anthropologists. During the week, they're mostly busy enough that they all go their separate ways.
Weekends, though - weekends settle into a routine pretty quickly. It's not like they schedule it or anything, but it always winds up the same basic way. Fraser spends one night with Ray, one night with Kowalski, and then the last night with both of them, eating dinner at Ray's or going out for pizza or watching old movies at some crazy college theater.
Ray jerks off a lot, but he figures he's entitled; he's only getting laid once a week. Fraser's supply-closet blowjobs don't count, not really - Ray can't see anything, and the shelves dig into his back, and there's barely even enough time to reciprocate.
Maybe a month on, Ray comes back from helping Frannie with her drains to an apartment that smells like roasting garlic and hot bread. He walks into the kitchen and freezes, staring.
"Ray!" Fraser frowns, glances at the clock. "Francesca said - I mean, we weren't expecting you."
"What the - you guys planned this?"
Kowalski turns around, grins at Ray, rolls his eyes. "Don't blame me," he says, still stirring the pot on the stove. "I'm just the hired help."
Turns out it was all Fraser's idea - cook Ray a nice meal, as a thank you for cooking for them so often. Of course, they couldn't ask: turns out Frannie's whole "leaky pipes" thing was supposed to be a fake, a ploy to get him out of the apartment for a while. For all that Fraser's the poster boy for the simple life, things tend to complicate themselves as soon as he gets involved.
"This means you have to wash up, though," Kowalski says, handing Ray a beer. "I mean, you don't get a surprise dinner for free."
Dinner is good, better than he would have expected from Fraser and Kowalski, and Fraser, the overgrown Boy Scout, put most of the pans in to soak, so there's not even that much to wash. Ray comes back out into the living room, wiping his hands on a towel, thinking about maybe turning on the TV -
- and freezes, because Fraser and Kowalski are standing in the middle of his living room, wrapped around each other, kissing like the world might end in the next twenty seconds.
Ray's not even sure they're wrong.
"Ray," Fraser says, "Ray, I'm so sorry - "
"No," Ray says, stepping back. "No, you - I mean, it's okay." And, really, it is - it's weird, but it's not like he didn't know they did this, not like he didn't know how it was between them. Like him and Fraser, really, only nothing at all like that.
Fraser looks vaguely guilty, a lot relieved; Kowalski is smirking.
"The fuck are you looking at?" Ray says. He's not going to punch Kowalski for kissing Fraser, but that doesn't mean he won't punch Kowalski for being an asshole.
"Could ask you the same question, Vecchio," Kowalski says. His arm is still around Fraser's back, one finger tucked in Fraser's belt loop, and he fiddles with it while he stares at Ray. "You want to join us?"
"No," Ray says, and he means to back up, means to go back into the kitchen and leave them to it, but he hits the doorframe instead and stops, staring.
"You sure?" Kowalski's fingers go a little white at the knuckles. "Maybe you should stop eyefucking me at work, then." He's talking tough, but his voice is a little rough, a little shaky, like maybe he's not so sure of himself, like maybe he's worried - like maybe he's been jerking off every night, too, and again in the mornings, not sure what to think about.
"What if I do, then," Ray says, glancing between the two of them. "What if I want to join you? You telling me you'd be okay with that?"
"I would." It's the first thing Fraser's said in a while; Ray jumps, staring over at him, and so does Kowalski. Fraser blushes, glancing between the two of them, and then steps forward, towards Ray. Kowalski follows behind him, pulled along like a toy on a string. "I love you both very much," Fraser says, staring at Ray. "To have you both with me - to see the two of you together - " he steps forward again, again, until he's right up in Ray's space, breathing Ray's air. "I would like that very much."
"And it was my idea in the first place," Kowalski adds, leaning over Fraser's shoulder, "so I think we all know how I feel about it." Ray stares at him, and he grins. "What, Vecchio," he says, "You really surprised?"
Ray remembers, staring at Kowalski, remembers Kowalski staring back, remembers a thousand different conversations crossing a dozen different lines. He's really not surprised at all.
"Well, come on," Kowalski says. "What're you going to do, Vecchio?"
What Ray's going to do, as it turns out, is lean forward and kiss Kowalski, tentative and uncertain, leaning against Fraser's shoulder to reach. Kowalski sits there and lets him do it, kisses back slow and gentle, feeling out the shape of this. Fraser makes a noise in the back of his throat, and his hand settles onto Ray's hip, warm and familiar. He kisses Ray's temple, Kowalski's cheek, and Ray kisses Kowalski again, less carefully.
Kowalski bites his lip, and pulls back, grinning. Ray looks between the two of them, up-close and out of focus, and smiles. It's crazy, completely certifiable - but none of them are what you'd really call sane to begin with, either.
As he leans in to kiss Fraser, it strikes him that it shouldn't really be a surprise. They're The Mountie And His Rays, after all.
**
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