snippet
so i threatened the due South fandom with fic, and I will, one day, deliver fully. Today is not that day; today I'm posting a snippet of the fic I'm writing, which will probably be a monster, just to kind of test the waters. Fair warnings for first draftiness, switching up how one character refers to another, etc...
Oh, an LJ cut. Haven't done this in years.
“Ray, can I ask you something?”
Ray looked up from the menu, watched Benny fiddle with the salt and pepper shakers. He was shaking them and watching the grains settle and shift with the movement, and that was enough to ring bells in Ray’s head, because Benny didn’t fidget. He told lame jokes, he had a deadpan sense of teasing humor, he had nervous tics, but he didn’t fidget.
“Sure,” he said. “You know you can ask me anything.”
Benny set the shakers aside and folded his hands on the table, then on his lap, then on the table again. He didn’t look at Ray once, instead studying the laminated veneer of the cheap diner table or looking out the window at the interstate. Ray sat back and nursed his coffee. They were still waiting for their food; the prisoner they were picking up in Windsor could cool his heels as far as Ray was concerned, as he did not have a Miami trip hanging over his head this time. (He had, somewhat superstitiously, signed out a motor pool Chevy rather than his newest Riviera-after two blown up Rivs and one that had apparently been set on fire, he didn’t want to take chances.) He had time, Benny had time; and one thing he had learned in Vegas was the value of patience. And it seemed that Benny needed that time to organize his thoughts, or find the right words (which also rang bells, because Benny was the king of words).
“Would it…would you be bothered…that is, I’ve…” Benny stopped and licked the corner of his mouth. “This is unexpectedly difficult, Ray, I’m sorry.”
“No problem,” Ray said. He’d been a bit softer with Benny, with Francesca and Maria and Ma. He still yelled, complained and whatnot, but since Vegas he had been softer with the people really important to him. “Can you give me an idea of what you want to talk about that’s so difficult?”
Benny pursed his lips. “Romantic attachments,” he said, stiffly, staring down at the table, as if his distorted reflection could give him answers.
“Oh, I get it. You’ve met a girl!” Ray felt the grin stretching his face, wide and happy. “And you wanna know if I’ll be bothered, so it’s gotta be Francesca, right? You know, we’ve been over this, and I still don’t like the idea of you sleeping with my sister, but if you want to, you know, take her out on a date or something, I could see my way to being okay with that. Maybe. I guess.”
Benny’s face was clouded when he looked up, met Ray’s eyes for the first time in several minutes. “No,” he said, slowly. “It’s not Francesca. She’s a lovely woman and she has a wonderful heart, Ray, but I-I have to admit, I have never felt particularly romantic towards her.”
Ray felt his smile sharpen. “What about when she showed up at your place, that one time?”
“We’ve discussed that,” Benny said, still stiff. “I can’t say anything, it wouldn’t be right.” He took a deep breath. “Francesca is a wonderful person, but she has nothing to do with this.”
“Okay,” Ray said, relaxing a little. “I kind of figured you would’ve gone after her by now if she was, but-you know. She’s my sister.”
“Yes,” Benny said. He smiled a little, crookedly. “Yes, I-think I understand, a little. I’ve told you about Maggie.”
“Yeah,” Ray said. He didn’t say Of course your sister’s as pretty as you are, because he knew that could come off as more gay than he meant it, and also because he didn’t know Maggie-he’d only ever seen one picture of her that Benny had brought back from his vacation up north, of the two of them seated on a couch in a cabin, both wearing knitted wool sweaters and looking into the camera with identical blue eyes. Her sweater had been far less ragged than Benny’s, and her hair was blond, not black, but he thought he could see the resemblance in them, anyway. “So you know.”
Benny nodded and looked down at his hands. “It’s just-you know, better than anyone, that my judgement in matters of the heart has not always been particularly wise,” he said.
“Yeah,” Ray said, gently. Even now, Victoria was a soft spot for both of them.
“And I-I don’t have much romantic experience,” Benny said. “There’s-you know-and I haven’t had much in the way of making good choices when it comes to romantic attachments,” he said. He was plucking at the thick paper napkin, now, unfolding the silverware from it and smoothing the creases. “After-well, there was Inspector Thatcher, who for obvious reasons was a poor choice. And there was a bounty hunter, and it seemed-but-well, she turned out to have a husband. That whole situation was complicated. And then there was Denny Scarpa, but she was also unsuitable for obvious reasons-”
“Not to me,” Ray protested. “A bounty hunter? And who’s this Denny chick? I wasn’t here for either of them. Details, Benny.”
Benny went a little pink. “Well,” he said. “Without, er, infringing on my admittedly rather outdated code of conduct, there really isn’t much to tell about either of them, Ray. Denny Scarpa was a card sharp, and she attempted to use me as a kind of back up while her partner committed a murder. We-Ray Kowalski and I-managed to disrupt the plan, and Ms. Scarpa is currently serving a sentence for conspiracy to murder.”
“Jesus, Benny.”
“Rather, yes.” Benny sipped some of his water. “The bounty hunter was Janet Morse, and she at least did not try to entangle me in any illegal activity-she simply neglected to mention to me that the bail-jumper she was pursuing was her estranged husband. The last time I saw her she indicated they would be separating, but it was still not an ideal relationship.”
Ray shook his head. “You have the worst luck, Benny,” he said. “That’s, what, two criminal chicks, a married woman, Thatcher and my sister. And I know it’s not Thatcher, because she’s back in Toronto-”
“Ottawa, Ray-”
“Canada,” Ray said, waving his hand. “She got a transfer. So who is it? You are talking about being in love with someone, right?”
“Yes,” Benny said. His face was pinched, now, unhappy. “Someone I fear is…also unsuitable, though not for any criminal reasons. More reasons of professional decorum, and bounds of friendship.” He bit his lip, and looked at Ray with trepidation. “And I understand that, ah, society as a whole has traditionally looked upon such attachments as-that is-they’re not considered ideal, and I don’t wish this to, to, ah, impact our friendship.”
Ray digested that. “Okay,” he said, slowly. “Professional, so you work with her. And you’re friends.” He puzzled over that last statement. Benny and “mainstream society” didn’t mesh at the best of times, but he was having trouble putting the clues together. “Is it Elaine? Because she’s Black? I know America doesn’t have the best track record, Benny, but you know I wouldn’t care if you dated Elaine, she’s a great gal-”
“No, that’s-” Benny took a deep breath. “Elaine is a fine woman and an exemplary officer, but no, she’s-I’m not.” He stopped. “I’m not in love with a woman, Ray.”
It felt like the moment after an earthquake, when everything was still vibrating but the ground had returned to solid rock. Ray felt that dizziness, that bizarre sense of displacement.
“Jesus, Benny,” he breathed, and then the waitress showed up with their food, and he had to paste a smile on his face and make small talk until she left. Benny went through the same motions, but he didn’t meet Ray’s eyes. Jesus. Ray had never been particularly homophobic, had never taunted the rent-boys and transvestite hookers the way some of the other cops did, but he didn’t get it, either. Why would any guy want another guy? Women, he could understand-women were beautiful and soft and they smelled great and they looked great, but guys-well, the prettiest guy he’d ever met was Benny, and if all men looked like him Ray could maybe, if he were really drunk, start to see the appeal. But he didn’t particularly understand Benny going for someone who didn’t step off a GQ cover, either, especially not with the yahoos they worked with.
And then it really hit him, that Benny was expecting Ray to-what? Hate him? Call him names?
“So,” he said, after they’d both taken a few bites of their food, “you…what, you want to know if I’m going to not be friends with you over this?”
Benny set down his cutlery-and really, the guy used a knife and fork on a hamburger, that should’ve tipped Ray off that Benny was feeling uncertain-and cleared his throat. “That is a primary concern, yes,” he said. “I greatly value your friendship, Ray, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Benny, Benny,” Ray said. “Look, you’ve endangered my life more times than I’ve had birthdays, okay? You’ve destroyed three ’71 Buick Rivieras-”
“Technically only one was at my instigation, Ray-”
“-and yet, we’re still friends.” He smiled. “I won’t say I get it, because I don’t, but hell, I don’t care if you swing that way. Just-don’t give me details, okay? I want those about as much as I want the words ‘sex’ and ‘my sister’ in the same sentence. Less, even.”
Benny looked relieved. “Understood,” he said, and he even smiled a little. “I-I know that police officers can be somewhat close-minded in regards to this sort of thing, and I was afraid that, well, that you might not, ah, be quite open-minded about it. As it pertains to me, I mean.”
“Nah, I get it,” Ray said. “Italian, Catholic, cop-I’m not exactly the poster boy for tolerance on the surface, right?”
“Not on the surface,” Benny said, but he was smiling. “But you’ve always had hidden depths.”
Ray took another bite of his burger-well done, mayo and mustard, good tomatoes-and thought. “You know,” he said, “maybe before I met you, you mighta had a reason to be worried. Maybe even before I went undercover, you mighta had a reason. But I saw so much crap in Vegas-and you know, it really sunk in that a lot of people are just tryin’ to live their lives, and they ain’t hurting anybody. Like I said, I don’t get it, if you wanna be with a guy or if somebody wants to dress in women’s underwear or whatever, but if you’re not hurting anybody….” He shrugged. “You know, if you’re not hurting anybody, you’re not breaking any laws, I really don’t care.”
Benny really smiled at him, now, easier than he had been the whole trip. “Thank you, Ray,” he said. “That-that’s-thank you.”
**
“So you’re in love,” Ray said, as they made their way to Windsor.
“Yes,” Benny said, but he didn’t sound happy about it. He wouldn’t look at Ray, either.
“That’s good,” Ray said. “You wanna tell me who?”
“I’d rather not say,” Benny said. “He doesn’t know how I feel, and I confess I’m…concerned.”
Ray thought about that. “That he wouldn’t take it well?”
Benny watched the trees pass outside the window. “That, too.” Silence fell for long minutes. “You remember the last time I fell in love, Ray.”
“Yeah.” He still carried guilt in his stomach like a stone, a scar invisible, unlike Benny’s, starburst in his back. “But this is different, right? He’s not a criminal.”
“He isn’t,” Benny said. “I’m not worried about him. Not about that.” He cleared his throat. “I’m more worried about myself.”
Oh. That makes sense; Benny in love was like nothing Ray had ever seen. He’d been stupid and punch-drunk-happy from sex, and then he’d been crazy, and it had fallen like a collapsing bridge, even before Ray had shot him in the back. For all that Victoria did to them, the thing Ray really can’t ever forgive is the way Benny lost that light he’d had-Benny had been truly happy for the first time since coming to Chicago, elated and bright, and then it had been snuffed out and drop-kicked and for all Ray knew, Benny had never really felt that again. He sure hadn’t been dating-Francesca would know, and she would have said. Benny lost some of his trust in himself and other people because of Victoria, and Ray was pretty sure he wouldn’t ever get it back. Benny had been willing to go against his own principles for her, to let a murderer and a thief go, even if he wasn’t interested in helping her commit more crimes. If he could do that once, he could probably do it again.
“I get that,” Ray said, slowly. “But, Benny…that was a pretty extreme situation. That was like, I don’t know, fairy-tale level kind of drama. And this guy you love-you know him, right?”
Benny’s voice was soft. “Yes.”
“So that’s different, right? Victoria, you guys didn’t really get to know each other before the love bus hit you. You know this guy. You think he’d ever ask you to do something against the law?”
“No.”
“You think he’d ever use you like that?”
“No.”
“You think he’d ever ask you to steal something or kill somebody for him?”
“He wouldn’t have to.”
That wasn’t a firm no, but it was still a negative, right? “Right. So maybe don’t be so scared of yourself.”
“Ray,” Benny sighed, “I would do anything for him.” He swallowed, so thickly that Ray could hear his throat sticking. “That’s…highly disconcerting.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Ray said. “But that’s love, Benny. ‘Highly disconcerting’ is an understatement.”
“Indeed,” Fraser said, and settled back to look out the window. “Indeed it is.”
Ray let the silence carry them along for a while. After a few miles, though, he had another thought, and asked, “So this guy…what are some of the other reasons you don’t want to tell him how you feel? You that afraid he’ll react badly?”
Fraser grimaced a little. “Not exactly,” he said. “I mean, I don’t…I don’t think he’d strike out at me in a ‘gay panic,’ or anything like that.” Ray could hear the air quotes. “But, for argument’s sake, let’s say he is open to a relationship with someone of the same sex-that does not follow that by expressing my own interest we would therefore have a mutual attraction.”
It took Ray a moment to untangle that. Fraser did like to get verbose when he got uncomfortable. “Right,” he said. “Like a man and a woman-well, a straight man and a woman-they’re not automatically going to have sparks just because they’re both straight.”
“That’s what I said, Ray,” Fraser said. Ray smiled a little; that was Fraser’s snippy voice, which had apparently gotten quite the workout while Ray was in Vegas.
“Right, okay. So you’re, what, just going to pine?”
Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. “I don’t see any particular way around it,” he said. “I’d rather keep his friendship than risk it on a dubious chance at romance. I’d rather have his friendship than have him not talk to me because of something I can’t change. If that means I pine,” and his voice nearly dripped with the sarcasm he’d steeped in it, “then so be it.” He leaned his head back and looked determinedly out the window. “It would hardly be the first time. And this time I don’t have to worry about him taking revenge on me for a mistake. Already it’s a healthier relationship than my last one.”
And that, Ray thought, was both incredibly sad and startlingly true.
“Okay, fine,” Ray said. “That works for you right now, so okay.” He changed lanes, pulling ahead of some old geezer who probably shouldn’t even be driving. “But you let me know if he gives you any shit over this, ever, all right? If he finds out and doesn’t want to be friends with you anymore, fine, but if he gives you crap over it, I wanna have a word with him.”
“I’m sure it won’t ever come to that,” Fraser said.
Oh, an LJ cut. Haven't done this in years.
“Ray, can I ask you something?”
Ray looked up from the menu, watched Benny fiddle with the salt and pepper shakers. He was shaking them and watching the grains settle and shift with the movement, and that was enough to ring bells in Ray’s head, because Benny didn’t fidget. He told lame jokes, he had a deadpan sense of teasing humor, he had nervous tics, but he didn’t fidget.
“Sure,” he said. “You know you can ask me anything.”
Benny set the shakers aside and folded his hands on the table, then on his lap, then on the table again. He didn’t look at Ray once, instead studying the laminated veneer of the cheap diner table or looking out the window at the interstate. Ray sat back and nursed his coffee. They were still waiting for their food; the prisoner they were picking up in Windsor could cool his heels as far as Ray was concerned, as he did not have a Miami trip hanging over his head this time. (He had, somewhat superstitiously, signed out a motor pool Chevy rather than his newest Riviera-after two blown up Rivs and one that had apparently been set on fire, he didn’t want to take chances.) He had time, Benny had time; and one thing he had learned in Vegas was the value of patience. And it seemed that Benny needed that time to organize his thoughts, or find the right words (which also rang bells, because Benny was the king of words).
“Would it…would you be bothered…that is, I’ve…” Benny stopped and licked the corner of his mouth. “This is unexpectedly difficult, Ray, I’m sorry.”
“No problem,” Ray said. He’d been a bit softer with Benny, with Francesca and Maria and Ma. He still yelled, complained and whatnot, but since Vegas he had been softer with the people really important to him. “Can you give me an idea of what you want to talk about that’s so difficult?”
Benny pursed his lips. “Romantic attachments,” he said, stiffly, staring down at the table, as if his distorted reflection could give him answers.
“Oh, I get it. You’ve met a girl!” Ray felt the grin stretching his face, wide and happy. “And you wanna know if I’ll be bothered, so it’s gotta be Francesca, right? You know, we’ve been over this, and I still don’t like the idea of you sleeping with my sister, but if you want to, you know, take her out on a date or something, I could see my way to being okay with that. Maybe. I guess.”
Benny’s face was clouded when he looked up, met Ray’s eyes for the first time in several minutes. “No,” he said, slowly. “It’s not Francesca. She’s a lovely woman and she has a wonderful heart, Ray, but I-I have to admit, I have never felt particularly romantic towards her.”
Ray felt his smile sharpen. “What about when she showed up at your place, that one time?”
“We’ve discussed that,” Benny said, still stiff. “I can’t say anything, it wouldn’t be right.” He took a deep breath. “Francesca is a wonderful person, but she has nothing to do with this.”
“Okay,” Ray said, relaxing a little. “I kind of figured you would’ve gone after her by now if she was, but-you know. She’s my sister.”
“Yes,” Benny said. He smiled a little, crookedly. “Yes, I-think I understand, a little. I’ve told you about Maggie.”
“Yeah,” Ray said. He didn’t say Of course your sister’s as pretty as you are, because he knew that could come off as more gay than he meant it, and also because he didn’t know Maggie-he’d only ever seen one picture of her that Benny had brought back from his vacation up north, of the two of them seated on a couch in a cabin, both wearing knitted wool sweaters and looking into the camera with identical blue eyes. Her sweater had been far less ragged than Benny’s, and her hair was blond, not black, but he thought he could see the resemblance in them, anyway. “So you know.”
Benny nodded and looked down at his hands. “It’s just-you know, better than anyone, that my judgement in matters of the heart has not always been particularly wise,” he said.
“Yeah,” Ray said, gently. Even now, Victoria was a soft spot for both of them.
“And I-I don’t have much romantic experience,” Benny said. “There’s-you know-and I haven’t had much in the way of making good choices when it comes to romantic attachments,” he said. He was plucking at the thick paper napkin, now, unfolding the silverware from it and smoothing the creases. “After-well, there was Inspector Thatcher, who for obvious reasons was a poor choice. And there was a bounty hunter, and it seemed-but-well, she turned out to have a husband. That whole situation was complicated. And then there was Denny Scarpa, but she was also unsuitable for obvious reasons-”
“Not to me,” Ray protested. “A bounty hunter? And who’s this Denny chick? I wasn’t here for either of them. Details, Benny.”
Benny went a little pink. “Well,” he said. “Without, er, infringing on my admittedly rather outdated code of conduct, there really isn’t much to tell about either of them, Ray. Denny Scarpa was a card sharp, and she attempted to use me as a kind of back up while her partner committed a murder. We-Ray Kowalski and I-managed to disrupt the plan, and Ms. Scarpa is currently serving a sentence for conspiracy to murder.”
“Jesus, Benny.”
“Rather, yes.” Benny sipped some of his water. “The bounty hunter was Janet Morse, and she at least did not try to entangle me in any illegal activity-she simply neglected to mention to me that the bail-jumper she was pursuing was her estranged husband. The last time I saw her she indicated they would be separating, but it was still not an ideal relationship.”
Ray shook his head. “You have the worst luck, Benny,” he said. “That’s, what, two criminal chicks, a married woman, Thatcher and my sister. And I know it’s not Thatcher, because she’s back in Toronto-”
“Ottawa, Ray-”
“Canada,” Ray said, waving his hand. “She got a transfer. So who is it? You are talking about being in love with someone, right?”
“Yes,” Benny said. His face was pinched, now, unhappy. “Someone I fear is…also unsuitable, though not for any criminal reasons. More reasons of professional decorum, and bounds of friendship.” He bit his lip, and looked at Ray with trepidation. “And I understand that, ah, society as a whole has traditionally looked upon such attachments as-that is-they’re not considered ideal, and I don’t wish this to, to, ah, impact our friendship.”
Ray digested that. “Okay,” he said, slowly. “Professional, so you work with her. And you’re friends.” He puzzled over that last statement. Benny and “mainstream society” didn’t mesh at the best of times, but he was having trouble putting the clues together. “Is it Elaine? Because she’s Black? I know America doesn’t have the best track record, Benny, but you know I wouldn’t care if you dated Elaine, she’s a great gal-”
“No, that’s-” Benny took a deep breath. “Elaine is a fine woman and an exemplary officer, but no, she’s-I’m not.” He stopped. “I’m not in love with a woman, Ray.”
It felt like the moment after an earthquake, when everything was still vibrating but the ground had returned to solid rock. Ray felt that dizziness, that bizarre sense of displacement.
“Jesus, Benny,” he breathed, and then the waitress showed up with their food, and he had to paste a smile on his face and make small talk until she left. Benny went through the same motions, but he didn’t meet Ray’s eyes. Jesus. Ray had never been particularly homophobic, had never taunted the rent-boys and transvestite hookers the way some of the other cops did, but he didn’t get it, either. Why would any guy want another guy? Women, he could understand-women were beautiful and soft and they smelled great and they looked great, but guys-well, the prettiest guy he’d ever met was Benny, and if all men looked like him Ray could maybe, if he were really drunk, start to see the appeal. But he didn’t particularly understand Benny going for someone who didn’t step off a GQ cover, either, especially not with the yahoos they worked with.
And then it really hit him, that Benny was expecting Ray to-what? Hate him? Call him names?
“So,” he said, after they’d both taken a few bites of their food, “you…what, you want to know if I’m going to not be friends with you over this?”
Benny set down his cutlery-and really, the guy used a knife and fork on a hamburger, that should’ve tipped Ray off that Benny was feeling uncertain-and cleared his throat. “That is a primary concern, yes,” he said. “I greatly value your friendship, Ray, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Benny, Benny,” Ray said. “Look, you’ve endangered my life more times than I’ve had birthdays, okay? You’ve destroyed three ’71 Buick Rivieras-”
“Technically only one was at my instigation, Ray-”
“-and yet, we’re still friends.” He smiled. “I won’t say I get it, because I don’t, but hell, I don’t care if you swing that way. Just-don’t give me details, okay? I want those about as much as I want the words ‘sex’ and ‘my sister’ in the same sentence. Less, even.”
Benny looked relieved. “Understood,” he said, and he even smiled a little. “I-I know that police officers can be somewhat close-minded in regards to this sort of thing, and I was afraid that, well, that you might not, ah, be quite open-minded about it. As it pertains to me, I mean.”
“Nah, I get it,” Ray said. “Italian, Catholic, cop-I’m not exactly the poster boy for tolerance on the surface, right?”
“Not on the surface,” Benny said, but he was smiling. “But you’ve always had hidden depths.”
Ray took another bite of his burger-well done, mayo and mustard, good tomatoes-and thought. “You know,” he said, “maybe before I met you, you mighta had a reason to be worried. Maybe even before I went undercover, you mighta had a reason. But I saw so much crap in Vegas-and you know, it really sunk in that a lot of people are just tryin’ to live their lives, and they ain’t hurting anybody. Like I said, I don’t get it, if you wanna be with a guy or if somebody wants to dress in women’s underwear or whatever, but if you’re not hurting anybody….” He shrugged. “You know, if you’re not hurting anybody, you’re not breaking any laws, I really don’t care.”
Benny really smiled at him, now, easier than he had been the whole trip. “Thank you, Ray,” he said. “That-that’s-thank you.”
**
“So you’re in love,” Ray said, as they made their way to Windsor.
“Yes,” Benny said, but he didn’t sound happy about it. He wouldn’t look at Ray, either.
“That’s good,” Ray said. “You wanna tell me who?”
“I’d rather not say,” Benny said. “He doesn’t know how I feel, and I confess I’m…concerned.”
Ray thought about that. “That he wouldn’t take it well?”
Benny watched the trees pass outside the window. “That, too.” Silence fell for long minutes. “You remember the last time I fell in love, Ray.”
“Yeah.” He still carried guilt in his stomach like a stone, a scar invisible, unlike Benny’s, starburst in his back. “But this is different, right? He’s not a criminal.”
“He isn’t,” Benny said. “I’m not worried about him. Not about that.” He cleared his throat. “I’m more worried about myself.”
Oh. That makes sense; Benny in love was like nothing Ray had ever seen. He’d been stupid and punch-drunk-happy from sex, and then he’d been crazy, and it had fallen like a collapsing bridge, even before Ray had shot him in the back. For all that Victoria did to them, the thing Ray really can’t ever forgive is the way Benny lost that light he’d had-Benny had been truly happy for the first time since coming to Chicago, elated and bright, and then it had been snuffed out and drop-kicked and for all Ray knew, Benny had never really felt that again. He sure hadn’t been dating-Francesca would know, and she would have said. Benny lost some of his trust in himself and other people because of Victoria, and Ray was pretty sure he wouldn’t ever get it back. Benny had been willing to go against his own principles for her, to let a murderer and a thief go, even if he wasn’t interested in helping her commit more crimes. If he could do that once, he could probably do it again.
“I get that,” Ray said, slowly. “But, Benny…that was a pretty extreme situation. That was like, I don’t know, fairy-tale level kind of drama. And this guy you love-you know him, right?”
Benny’s voice was soft. “Yes.”
“So that’s different, right? Victoria, you guys didn’t really get to know each other before the love bus hit you. You know this guy. You think he’d ever ask you to do something against the law?”
“No.”
“You think he’d ever use you like that?”
“No.”
“You think he’d ever ask you to steal something or kill somebody for him?”
“He wouldn’t have to.”
That wasn’t a firm no, but it was still a negative, right? “Right. So maybe don’t be so scared of yourself.”
“Ray,” Benny sighed, “I would do anything for him.” He swallowed, so thickly that Ray could hear his throat sticking. “That’s…highly disconcerting.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Ray said. “But that’s love, Benny. ‘Highly disconcerting’ is an understatement.”
“Indeed,” Fraser said, and settled back to look out the window. “Indeed it is.”
Ray let the silence carry them along for a while. After a few miles, though, he had another thought, and asked, “So this guy…what are some of the other reasons you don’t want to tell him how you feel? You that afraid he’ll react badly?”
Fraser grimaced a little. “Not exactly,” he said. “I mean, I don’t…I don’t think he’d strike out at me in a ‘gay panic,’ or anything like that.” Ray could hear the air quotes. “But, for argument’s sake, let’s say he is open to a relationship with someone of the same sex-that does not follow that by expressing my own interest we would therefore have a mutual attraction.”
It took Ray a moment to untangle that. Fraser did like to get verbose when he got uncomfortable. “Right,” he said. “Like a man and a woman-well, a straight man and a woman-they’re not automatically going to have sparks just because they’re both straight.”
“That’s what I said, Ray,” Fraser said. Ray smiled a little; that was Fraser’s snippy voice, which had apparently gotten quite the workout while Ray was in Vegas.
“Right, okay. So you’re, what, just going to pine?”
Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. “I don’t see any particular way around it,” he said. “I’d rather keep his friendship than risk it on a dubious chance at romance. I’d rather have his friendship than have him not talk to me because of something I can’t change. If that means I pine,” and his voice nearly dripped with the sarcasm he’d steeped in it, “then so be it.” He leaned his head back and looked determinedly out the window. “It would hardly be the first time. And this time I don’t have to worry about him taking revenge on me for a mistake. Already it’s a healthier relationship than my last one.”
And that, Ray thought, was both incredibly sad and startlingly true.
“Okay, fine,” Ray said. “That works for you right now, so okay.” He changed lanes, pulling ahead of some old geezer who probably shouldn’t even be driving. “But you let me know if he gives you any shit over this, ever, all right? If he finds out and doesn’t want to be friends with you anymore, fine, but if he gives you crap over it, I wanna have a word with him.”
“I’m sure it won’t ever come to that,” Fraser said.