Ray's Life as a Turtle.

for sb

by Ultra Chrome

Author's Notes: I'm eternally grateful to Wordwitch for an amazingly fast beta and for helping Ray say things in his own words, instead of mine.

You know when you're looking for that perfect thing? That "you don't know exactly what it is, but you'll know it when you see it" thing? Like...okay. Like say a pet.

You know you want one, and you think "Maybe I'll get a dog." And you have all these reasons why you want a dog, and it's a good idea and you think about what kind of dog you want and you're not sure, but you'll know it when you see it, right?

So you go looking. You look in all the shelters first, `cause maybe you should rescue one. That'd be a good thing. No puppy mess and the dog's gonna love you for busting him out of the big house. But you see all these dogs and they're good dogs. But they're not THE dog, you know? And you just keep looking.

Then one day you think, "Okay, maybe I'll have to get a puppy after all. So you go into one of those pet stores with the designer mutts they sell for twice as much as the pedigree pups. And you see it! Your new best friend.

You hand over your credit card and buy everything you need to keep it happy and healthy and you go home with your new turtle. Yeah. Turtle. I called him Fido, since he was supposed to be a dog.

The point is, sometimes you think you know what you want, but it turns out you really want something else.

Sometimes I think Fraser's that guy, too. And I'm the turtle. Coo coo cachoo.

Not just because he walked in one day looking for Vecchio and found me instead. That's only part of it. We mostly got over that the first day, I think. I'm talking about the big picture here.

See, I kinda knew he was looking for a woman to settle down with, do the domestic bliss thing with the kids and the cabin and the stability. He didn't say it so much, but you could tell. He started looking at women all of a sudden, like he was weighing up if they had enough subcutaneous fat or something. He even kissed a couple.

Anyway, at first it wasn't "Back off, he's mine" or anything. Well, yeah, maybe it was, but not like that. It was a buddies thing, you know? Like, I knew if he found Miss Right that we wouldn't hang out much anymore.

I knew that because I did it when I got serious with Stella. Just drifted away from my buddies until all I had was Stella and our mutual friends. And then when we got divorced I think she got custody. Or maybe they only liked me when I pretended to have class.

Fraser says I have class. I told him I thought I didn't have any and he said, "Ray, you have more class in your little finger than most people have in their entire bodies. You're just not pretentious about it."

Of course he said it right after I undid his pants in the kitchen and just before I blew him, so he might have been trying to shut me up. But that's not the point.

The point is, at first I only didn't want him to find a woman `cause I liked having a buddy. Someone to watch hockey and shoot the shit with. Even if he had to explain what the hell he was talking about half the time.

But I learned to speak Canadian and I kinda figured him out a bit and then it was suddenly all about me wanting him for myself in a very different way. The same way he wanted a woman. I wanted to settle down with him. Okay, I wanted to settle down with him on a bed somewhere and do very intimate things with him, but I still wanted the buddies bit as well. And I wanted all the rest, too. I wanted all the good stuff I had with Stella. The stuff before the ambition and the bullshit about my job and how I couldn't go to all her fancy dinners `cause I was out pretending to be a drug dealer instead. Before she didn't want me anymore.

I don't know what tipped me over the edge with Fraser. I mean, he's seriously hot. Seriously. But that I noticed right away. And I mostly handled that pretty well. Mostly handled it right before I went to bed, or in the shower. Yeah, he was my jerk off fantasy. So what? Doesn't mean anything. He's everybody's jerk off fantasy. The guy was born to be jerked off over. Now there's an image.

Uh, yeah, so it's not the looks thing, not really. He's got this way of annoying the hell out of you, even when he's telling you you're a superhero. Gets under your skin. And he looked at me sometimes like he thought I was someone, you know? Most people don't even notice me unless I get in their faces, which I'm pretty good at. But even then they don't look at me like I'm anything special. He did. Right after he figured out who I was he started looking at me like that.

I used to think it was just because of the citations. He's got a real duty fetish. So me being good at my job is probably just another turn on for him. I know he likes to watch me arrest people. The more they resist, the more he likes it. But I get that. Sometimes I'll piss a perp off, arc `em up, just to get a reaction from Fraser. Don't tell him I said that, or I'll have to hurt you, okay?

There was one time we chased some guy all over town. Up walls, down fire escapes, the usual shit. And we get him cornered, me running up behind Fraser and there we are. The guy does this little duck like he's going to run at Fraser, right? Then he weaves the other way and comes right at me. So I just raise my fist and the idiot runs right into it. Bam! Out cold. Didn't even bruise my hammer.

After we called it in and the black and whites hauled the guy away Fraser hauled me behind a dumpster and broke the law. The lascivious act one. I called him on it. Said, "Fraser, there's a law that bans lascivious acts. An old law, remember?"

And he just looked up at me and said. "This is not a lascivious act, Ray." He was about five seconds from getting a mouthful of rock hard Kowalski and he tries to tell me it's not a lascivious act. So I asked him what it was then, `cause a guy should know these things. And get this. He said, "It's a biological imperative."

Few minutes later I had a biological imperative of my own.

God, where was I? Oh yeah. I don't know what exact thing made me want the whole three ring circus with him, but it happened and I'm pretty much a go with the flow kinda guy. It didn't bother me that I wanted a guy, been there, done that, didn't buy a shirt. Just...I suddenly stopped wanting Stella back. I feel a bit pink about it now, but I had this whole guilt thing going on for a while. Like I was cheating on her, even though I knew she didn't want me anymore and I had the piece of paper to prove it. Didn't help that Fraser pissed her off every five minutes, starting the first time they met. He saved her life, but Stella never was easy to impress. And you know what? I don't think he cares much.

That could've been part of it. He's so freakin' polite and uptight about coming over all correct and proper, but he couldn't give a shit what Stella thinks. But me? Me, he cared about. So, for like the first time in ever, someone thought I was some kinda shiny thing and she was the tarnished bit in the back that you just turned to the wall so you couldn't see it. I mean, he knew I loved her and so he never said anything bad about her and he was always polite, but she didn't matter to him like I did.

So whatever it was, I was walking next to him one day and our shoulders bumped like they always did, and he just kinda pushed further into my space and I had one of those smack in the head things that Fraser likes to call an epiphany.

I was getting another chance at it. Not the whole shebang, but the having someone to make me feel like a real person again, instead of a profile and a whole lot of bluffing. Yeah, I wanted all the touchy, feely stuff, but since he was looking at women, I didn't think that was an option, so I did the right thing. Pulled my head in and let my shell protect all the soft bits that wanted to get cuddly and close and played the hard ass buddy card.

That was greatness for a while. I had a few embarrassing moments, like I'd forget to let go of his hand sometimes, or I'd jump Bogart on some poor chick for flirting with him, like he was mine for real. Poor Frannie got a lot of attitude from me, but I don't feel too bad, `cause she has balls, she can give as good as she gets.

Plus, she's good with it now. Still flirts with him, but I don't know, maybe it just got to be a habit. Or could be she just likes yanking my chain, who knows? But me and Fraser? We wouldn't be where we are now without her. Which is queer, when you think about it, but hey, I'm not gonna complain. But I'll get to that later.

So for a while things were real good. I had a buddy, I had someone half decent to work with, almost had a dog even. So long as I fed Dief the occasional donut and some pizza now and then. We had this thing going. Not the thing I wanted, but a thing. A good thing. Until my dick decided it wanted a thing, too.

Problem was, I couldn't keep it to myself, you know. I'm a heart on my sleeve kinda guy, when I'm not being a kick `em in the head kinda guy, and it was getting tough. You try spending all your time with a walking wet dream and keeping it cool. Gets hard. In more ways than one, if you get my drift. I mean the guy had to buy a clue sometime, am I right?

But Fraser... He's a smart guy with the book stuff and the most whacked out shit you can imagine, but it's like Frannie said, he can't see what's in front of his nose. He's about as sharp as a bowling ball when it comes to the mating habits of the common garden variety human male. And it just got frustrating. I was wanting to punch the hell out of something every day and in the end I punched him instead. And then I told him that was that, it's been nice knowing you. I had to get out with some dignity, you know? Told him it was because he never listened to me. That's a good one to use on a guy if you want out. I don't know a single guy that's got an answer for that one.

Don't even ask me how that ended up with him getting me in a lip lock on a sinking boat, but it did. Well kinda. He called it buddy breathing. I liked it a whole lot more than a guy who was this close to drowning should like anything. It was a shock. There's me, freaking out, knowing I'm gonna die any second and hating that it was under water, so I couldn't even tell him. Next thing he's grabbing my face and he's pushing my mouth open with his tongue. I figured this was a good way to go. If you had to go, anyway. But before I could make my tongue to join the dance he pulled his back and breathed out in my mouth. Took me a minute, but I got it. Took his air and tried to not be disappointed.

I called him on it, but he said it was "Standard Procedure" and it didn't change anything. So I had nothing. Worse than before, though. `Cause now I had a clue what I was missing. We had another big fight about him not trusting me, only this time we were squashed up in a tiny submarine with his ass right up against my dick. And if he didn't know how I felt about him after that he was just plain dense. Or his butt was numb, maybe. Either way he listened to me that time.

I didn't end up going anywhere, and you know why? Because he said he didn't want to go away from me. Not that he wanted to be with me or anything. Just he didn't want to leave. And how pathetic am I that even that made me happy. So I stayed and he stayed and things kept being the same. Except for the being harder to keep my hands to myself thing.

I tried. Really fucking tried. Even went after a chick for a while, well... a couple of days, but I showed interest. Fraser made me feel like scum for it though. Pretty much said it was not cool on account of meeting her when I went to tell Mrs Tucci her husband had got shot. Then there was the whole "her being a suspect" thing, which, okay I cooked up in my own head because of some stupid romance novel and my own insecurity. And Fraser didn't set me straight. He just let me be Mr Paranoid until it was all shot to hell and she hated me. Not buddies, but now I know why he did it, I'm cool.

Pretty soon after that, stuff sort of came to a head. There was this poker chick. Lady Shoes. He seemed pretty sweet on her and I hated her. Actual hate. I just couldn't keep doing this anymore. She was the enemy and she had to go. So instead of just giving her attitude, I went the direct approach. I gave Fraser attitude. I knew I sounded like a jealous wife, but I couldn't care. I thought he was in over his head with that one, in more ways than one. I got so scared I even crashed through a skylight for him. On purpose. If that's not love, there's no such thing.

You know Fraser in a tux is thing of beauty? Yeah. He looks good in anything, but in a tux? Holy fuck! Plus, when he takes the jacket off and rolls up the sleeves and kinda slouches? Makes it hard to concentrate. We sat there at the station playing poker after the Feds finished putting us through hoops. Had the whole place to ourselves, but we were sitting so close. I mean, we were facing each other, right, and our thighs were touching, and I don't have to tell you how much I liked that. The lights were down low and everything. It was nice.

Fraser, he doesn't bet with money and I was all out of candy from the last game, so we played for air. And we talked about Lady Shoes and how he kissed her, but he said she kissed him. It was delightful, apparently. Delightful is okay, I guess, but what came next? That was a whole lot more than delightful. It was so far past delightful that you couldn't see delightful if it was a clear day and you squinted. With glasses on.

So we were playing for air and Fraser was winning and I was not getting pissed at him anymore, `cause eventually you get used to him. He wins at everything. He made a point about wanting all the air I owed him. Freak wanted an IOU, can you believe it? So we argued about that for a while, kinda like we do about everything.

And he said to me, "Ray, I'm tired of playing." And I squashed that little bit of me that took it how I wanted to take it and said, "Okay, let's go home." Thinking I'd drop him back at the consulate and then have a quick tug in the shower while I remembered him in the tux. Or maybe I'd run a bath and take it slow, just because I was still pinging a little from the bust and having his leg pressed up against mine for the last however long.

Whatever. So we were getting up and getting ready to go and he said, "Home?" and I said, "Yeah, unless you want to grab something to eat." And he asked me what I thought he was talking about. I said, "Poker. You're bored with it. So let's get out of here. Pitter Patter and all that." He just did that head tilt thing and looked at me for so long that I had to look away. He was looking for something and I was pretty sure he'd find the something I wanted to keep hidden. So I tried to kinda curl up inside myself so he wouldn't see me.

Then he cleared his throat like he does when he's nervous and I looked at him and I got all the tells. The eyebrow rub, the foot shuffle, the neck cracking thing. I was sure he was about to drop something big on me. Like maybe he was leaving, or maybe he'd just had enough of me or something, and then he said, "You owe me a lot of air, Ray."

So I said "Yeah, we already established that. And?" Like how was he going to get it out of me? And just like that he grabbed my head, like on the Henry...the boat. Just pushed my mouth open with his tongue while I stood there shell shocked and completely out of air.

Couldn't even kiss him back. I suck. I stood there like a block of wood while he put himself on the line. Must have taken some serious balls to do that and I gave him nothing. I mean, if he'd given a guy some warning I would've been all over it, but how it went down? I wasn't even sure it was real. Sure didn't feel too real. Until he pulled away and he looked at me like he'd just found out what he wanted to know and didn't like the answer. That look was a kick in the head, let me tell you.

He stood there in his borrowed tux, with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons undone, and then he was looking at his feet and shuffling them like a naughty kid. I could feel how embarrassed he was. Fucking hit me like a brick. So I made myself open my mouth and what came out was, "Okay. That wasn't standard procedure," `cause I'm good with stating the obvious. But he's even better. He said, "No. That was a kiss."

So I told him, "Yeah, I got that. Thanks." And he just stood there looking at me again with that face that means he wants an explanation, but he's too polite to push for it. Always works on me, that face. So off I went with the pacing and the flinging my hands around like a mook, while he just stood there calm as you like. I was saying shit like, "That changes things, you know," and "That was NOT standard fucking procedure," and my personal favourite, "That's a change right there, buddy. That changes things." `Cause if stating the obvious is good, stating it more than once has got to be better.

He tried to say it didn't have to change things, like he wanted to pretend it didn't happen. I got a hunch that's what happened the first time, too, but he'll never admit it. But there he was trying to take it back and no way was I gonna let him. So I walked right up to him and got him in a lip lock before he knew what hit him.

I'll give the guy credit. He got with the program pretty fast. It wasn't like some mad passionate make out session or anything, but it was enough to have me hard and panting when we pulled apart. Yeah, it was a first kiss thing, which means I probably thought it was better than it really was, but it did all the stuff a good kiss should do. And when it was over and he was standing in front of me with his lips all wet from my mouth? That was the point of no return for me, right there. Sink or swim time. And hey, he taught me to swim in the other sense too, so swim I did.

So I asked him, "Home?" and he actually said, "Your place or mine?" I don't know if I was more shocked he knew that line, or that he'd even use it. But it seemed pretty funny at the time. I told him mine, on account of Canada being a little cold for my liking. Man, that consulate is...it's got no warmth, you know?

So we went back to my place, Dief and his new girlfriend in tow, and at least she didn't shed in the car. A guy could learn to like poodles for that very reason. Even if her owner was Lady Shoes. Which I'm willing to forgive her for, since she went to live with Frannie and all. The dog, that is, not Lady Shoes. That would be...well wrong. Frannie deserves better. And don't get me started on that.

The weird thing is, when we got back to my place we didn't do much. The intent was there, on my part anyway. I had plans. Big plans. Hell, I had so many plans in my head maybe I couldn't pick one. But Fraser didn't seem any better off there. We mostly kissed and fooled around a bit. We talked a little. Not much. Not enough it turns out, but it was kinda nice. We fell asleep in the middle of a conversation about those birds with the fat little faces. Puff somethings.

Next day we slept late, so there was no time to get used to how it was going to be from then on before we were off to work. I had to get him to the consulate in time to be dressed back in the Big Red Uniform, so we had about five minutes of kissing before we were out the door. Didn't even get my morning coffee.

I tell you, that first day at work was a freakin' disaster. First, I was on some whole other planet all morning. It was like being a teenager all over again. All I could think about was Fraser, which was pretty much all I thought about anyway, only instead of being like Fraser, case, Fraser, boxing, Fraser, hockey, Fraser, Stella, case, it was Fraser, Fraser, maybe I should start calling him Ben, Fraser, oh look a file, Fraser, what the hell does Frannie want now? Fraser, Fraser, Fraser. And I kept replaying kisses in my head till I had a hard on that wouldn't quit.

Plus I had a couple new cases that Welsh had dumped on me `cause me and Frase had tied up pretty much everything I got that week.

That's not me, not all me, anyway. Most of it's Fraser and his licking stuff and sniffing dead people. Me? I rely on hunches. Then we argue about it for a while and I don't know, maybe the bad guys get antsy or something, but things usually get pretty...intense, we get shot at, catch the guy that did it, case closed.

So anyway, there I am, mooning around and sticking my nose in files but not really taking anything in and I actually manage to notice something.

One of the cases, a robbery. Bait and switch thing. Anyway, there's a witness. Only he's a guy we arrested once before. On a robbery charge and guess what? That was a bait and switch thing, too, right? So I ask Frannie for the file on the old case and she gives me the big "it's too hard" sigh that she never gives Fraser and tells me it'll take a while, which I know. She never does anything fast for me, unless Fraser's siting right next to me. Even now. But I know she loves me. Like a brother, which I kinda was for a while, on account of her real one playing mobster in Vegas at the time. But that doesn't need exploring at this juncture.

See, told you I learned to speak Canadian.

So while I was waiting, guess who should walk in, large as life and twice as edible? The Mountie. Did I tell you he was Mountie? He is. Anyway, he walks in and says, "Hi, Ray!" in exactly the same voice he says it in every day and I say, "Hi, Frase," in exactly the same voice as I said "Kiss me good morning" when we woke up. And he stopped halfway to sitting down and said "Come with me, Ray." And that was the best offer I had all morning so I followed him to the supply closet, which he seemed to know his way around pretty well. Usually if we needed to talk, we went to the bathroom and got in a stall, so I figured...not talking.

And I was right. He wasn't saying a word. Not with his mouth anyway. Well, yeah with his mouth, but not words talking. He was all about the making out like a crazy person. With the tongue and the hands and the hips. The whole eight yards. And suddenly the door opens and there's Frannie saying, "Ray, I got that file you..."

Fraser just steps back and pulls his tunic thing down and clears his throat. I'm pretty sure he went bright red, but I wasn't looking. I was too busy trying to hide evidence, if you know what I mean. So there's Frannie looking like someone just ate her cat or something and she says, "Like I was saying, I got that file you wanted. So if you're done playing tonsil tennis with the Mountie...."

And I can't help it, I say, "Hockey. Tonsil hockey." And she says, "Hockey, tennis, basketball, whatever." Throws the file at me and bolts.

Fraser says, "Oh, dear." And off he goes after her and its only then I see Dief sitting outside the door with a look like he was thinking that was a job well done. I say, "Thanks buddy. Thanks a lot." And he makes the whiney noise and trots off with his tail wagging. Traitor.

He got no donuts from me for a week. Fraser gave him a ticking off after, but he just spent more time hanging out with Frannie and Ante so I don't know if he cared.

Fraser didn't come back for about half an hour and I spent most of that time trying to get the file in some kinda order so I could read it. When he got back he told me he'd talked to Frannie and she understood and was fine with it. I told him it was unfair that I got the blame when he had me pushed up against the shelves, but he said that was neither here nor there and we should be more circumspect in the future. Which I also didn't think was fair, since he was making it sound like it was my fault and I told him so.

We argued, got shot at, case got solved and we found out we could still work together, even with the wanting to get in each others pants thing. Which was greatness.

Frannie didn't talk to us much for a while, but one day she came in and was all over Fraser and insulting me again and it was all good there, too. I tried to talk to her about it, but she just said, "It explains a lot, so don't sweat it. Just be good to him or I'll de-bone you like a chicken." The way she looked at me I knew she meant business. Like I said, girl's got balls. Bigger than mine and that's saying something.

So things were pretty close to perfect for a while there. Fraser and me, we found a groove. He spent more nights at my place than he did in his office and most of those we got some sleep. We had stuff to do, sure. Research. He had to find out what every part of me tasted like and I had to find out what broke his polite thing. Even got him to say "Dear God" and "fuck" in one sentence once. Well, maybe it wasn't a sentence in the proper sense, but it was all one big string of words so it counts.

You know what's dumb? The best thing about that time, the thing that really warms my fuzzies is that we'd watch hockey and shoot the shit and be buddies and then I didn't have to drive him anywhere. We just went to bed.

And the kissing. Guy's got a mouth on him that should be illegal. There is nothing he can't do with that mouth, I swear. And he knows it. Teases me all the time. He's got this thing he does. Sort of hooks the tip of his tongue behind his bottom lip and kinda rolls it out. Like he was gonna poke it out, but it got stuck. He used to do it lots when he was thinking, now he does it when he wants me to drop my pants. Still does it when he's thinking, too, which makes it hard sometimes, `cause I got this dog thing about it now. Like when the bell rings and the dogs drool? Pavlov, that's it!

Fraser thinks hard, Ray gets hard. Every fucking time. You'd think I'd get over it, huh?

I didn't realise it at the time, but we didn't talk about stuff much. I mean, we talked all the time, just not about the big stuff. Never said, "I love you." Or "What happens when Vecchio gets back?" or any of that "Where is this thing going?" stuff. I figured he knew. Thought I made it pretty hard to miss. But you gotta remember he can't see what's in front of his nose and I keep my shell on, even when I'm sticking my neck out.

There was this time for like a week or so, when I kept having bad dreams. Fraser did, too. He didn't say they were bad, but I knew they were `cause you don't sweat and yell and throw punches over a good dream. He wouldn't talk about it when he woke up though, except to apologise for the punching thing when I told him about it.

Me? I kept dreaming about this polar bear sitting on my couch and drinking tea. Three nights in a row. So I asked Frannie about it, on account of her doing this psychobabble course for a while. She said the bear was representing Fraser and it was cute. Didn't feel cute though. Felt like something was dying.

Then I had the rest of the dream, which sucked. The polar bear was sitting there with his cup of tea and Fraser walked in and the bear said, "You're late." And Fraser said, "Yes, I got sidetracked." And the bear said, "Well pitter patter, Benton Buddy." And they left. Fraser didn't even look back at me, but I heard him say to the bear, "I'll have to get someone to feed the turtle." I was yelling, "His name's FIDO, dammit!" but they couldn't hear me. It was like I was on the other side of the window and it was shut.

I was gonna tell Frannie, but the shit hit the fan. Vecchio came back. More like Fraser blew his cover while we were on the trail of his mother's killer, only Fraser didn't know the guy had killed his mother till we were already on his trail. And I didn't even know how he figured that one out. I had a hunch it was something to do with how he used to talk to himself, so...

But we were after this guy and Fraser, he was all focused and really intense and I didn't even need to be there, for all the notice he paid. It was pretty selfish maybe, but all I could think was that he had Vecchio back and he wouldn't want to work with me anymore and hell, he might've had something going with Vecchio before I came along and what if he wanted that back too?

All I knew was that I wasn't his first guy, but he never told me who was, so I didn't know. Could've been Vecchio. Which would be a good reason not to tell me who, you know?

Plus we had to jump out of a plane into a pile of snow without a parachute and climb a mountain. We fell down a crack in the ice and I told him I wanted to go on adventure, plus a whole heap of other stuff. Oh, and he kissed another woman. His boss, who he'd kissed before. And the whole time, even though he was Mr Get Your Man or whatever, he seemed happy. Not happy that I was with him, `cause I don't know if he even noticed, like I said. Just home happy.

I tried to have the talk a couple times. The "what now?" talk. But he never answered me. We kept getting interrupted, or he'd go on about his dad and Buck Frobisher being partners hundreds of miles apart. Which was exactly the opposite of what I wanted to hear. I was pretty miserable, but I was happy for him. Shouldn't be possible, but when you love someone weird shit happens in your head.

It was a crazy few days, let me tell you. At the end of it, Fraser was a hero. Which is nothing new, but this time it was a "saved the world" kinda hero. So when we got back to King's Creek he got the big phone call. Welcome back to Canada, Constable. You're getting a promotion and a transfer anywhere you want to go.

He asked for some time off, plus time to think about it and they said yeah, whatever. Then he locked himself away with the dogs and I'm pretty sure he cried for a whole day. If he didn't, he was pretty damn close and that's a fact. Wouldn't let anyone in the shed with him. Not even me, which hurt.

I called Welsh and told him what had happened and he told me he wanted me to stay on at the 27th, said I was a damn fine cop, which I knew already, `cause Fraser used to tell me all the time. Sinks in eventually. But the weird bit was this. Stella asked to talk to me. Yeah. But even weirder, she told me she was hooking up with Vecchio. I didn't know what to say, so I told her to take care and make sure he looked after her and I went and sat in the snow outside the shed and waited for Fraser to come out.

I had plenty of time to think that day. There was nothing but silence around me, except for every now and then I thought I heard Fraser sniff. Not like smelling stuff sniff, either. So all I had to do was think. I came up with a couple of things. First, it was queer how Stella wanted the guy I'd been pretending to be. And she said I never learned from my mistakes. Go figure.

Second, I wanted to be with Fraser and if that meant I had to freeze my ass off in the most slow and painful way, then so be it. But I didn't know what Fraser wanted. Vecchio had got my partner, but what if I hadn't got his? What if he got both of them?

What if Fraser was in there asking Dief how to break up with me nicely?

So I went back inside and called Frannie. Yeah, that's the other thing. I was losing my new sister, too. And I wanted to hate Vecchio, but I couldn't. `Cause, if I had a beef with him, I'd pretty much lose everyone I loved, except my folks, and Stella was still pretty tight with them. Tighter than I was, so who knows, over time? And then there's the whole thing about how if they think he's all that, then he can't be too bad, can he?

Anyway, I call Frannie, `cause I figure she knows how I feel about Fraser. I mean she knows, knows, but she also knows, if you get my drift. And I tell her I'm lost and she gets it. Really gets it!

Then she says to me, "But remember the polar bear, Ray." And I tell her I don't want to, tell her I had the rest of that dream and how it didn't go so well. She says' "Oh, dear." Just like Fraser does. Then, "He's home now." And I tell her, "Yeah, that's what I figured."

She goes real quiet for a minute and I don't have anything to say, so I sit there until I'm not sure she's even still on the line and I say, "Frannie?" and my voice cracks like I'm about to lose it. So she tells me I gotta tell him everything. About how I really feel and how it's not just about partners or buddies or sex, but about forever. I tell her I don't know how and she says I have to find a way or I'll lose him and it'll all be my own fault and she'll have to de-bone me for being a chicken.

I actually got a laugh out of that and when I put the phone down I was feeling a little bit like at least I didn't lose Frannie yet and things were just a tiny bit better. I went and sat back in the snow outside the shed and waited for Fraser to take pity on me, `cause no way did he not know I was out there freezing my ass off. Literally.

He came out eventually. Opened the door and blinked down at me and said, "Ray?" and his eyes were red, but he looked the same as always. I stood up and pushed him back inside the shed and put my arms around him. He just stood there. He put his arms around me, too, but he was all stiff and formal and his head was turned away a little like he didn't want to see something in my eyes. I wanted to kiss him, more than anything I wanted to do that. Wanted to bring him back to life, but I couldn't. He wasn't touchable right then. And if I couldn't kiss him, then no way was this the right time to confess my undying love. Even I'm not that dumb.

Instead I took him inside and Frobisher fed him and kept up this stupid stream of bullshit about the weather and the moose hock and the places he knew that needed a half decent Mountie. He kept looking at me and adding how they had stuff out at these places, like TV and coffee shops and video stores and running water. Which made me think he had a clue about us, too.

Fraser just ate and then said he was tired and he was going out to pitch a tent. He didn't even look at me the whole time. I knew he was hurting, but I didn't know why and I needed to know that, even if it was just that he was going to blow me off. So I had a few drinks with Frobisher and when the gas got too bad to bear, I headed out to the tent.

Fraser was in there, lying on his back and looking at nothing like he could see the future and the future was grim, from the look on his face. He didn't move till I said, "You got room for one more in there?" and then he just pulled back one corner of the sleeping bag and went back to staring into space.

That was all the invitation I was gonna get, so I took it. Kicked off my boots and climbed in next to him. It was one of those double sleeping bags, so he must've been expecting me, and he must've been hoping I'd come, or he'd have taken a single. That was a shred of hope and I tried not to think it wasn't enough.

We were laying there for ages, not saying anything, both staring straight up. Every now and then he'd take a breath like he was about to say something. His whole body would tense up and then he'd just...give up and not say a word. Like Stella did for about two days before she managed to spit out that she wanted me to move out.

Yeah, I can be a real doofus about stuff sometimes, but I was not gonna let him tell me that now. I wanted to drag it out as long as I could. I wanted every minute I could get out of the guy before I had to crawl back in my shell and be alone again. Even if it hurt the whole time we were together, it was better than being alone. I didn't want to go back to Chicago, where everything was familiar, and nothing was my world anymore. My world was Fraser, he was my home and I wanted to carry him with me everywhere. Anywhere. So I said, "When do we go?"

He went real still. Stopped breathing and everything, then he turned his head and said, "Go?" like he had no clue what the word meant. He kept holding his breath while I got my voice together better and managed to make the words come out normal. I said, "Yeah, go. The adventure? The reaching out hand and all that?"

He sounded so little when he said, "Oh!" that it broke my heart. Like a Lassie movie does. But he got his shit together pretty quick and said we could leave as soon as we got everything we'd need. And then he started planning out loud, asking how long I thought I could get off and did I want to go the proper way, or stop in towns until we got close.

I told him I'd go any way he wanted and he said, "I think I'd prefer to avoid towns where possible, just for a while. I think I need the solitude." And BAM! Just like that I had all the hope I needed to keep going. He wanted solitude, but he wanted me with him. So I wasn't just people to him. I was like Dief. I was part of his life.

I didn't know for how long, but I didn't care. It was a start and I was gonna take full advantage of every minute. So I rolled over and kissed him. And he kissed me back, kinda unsure at first, like he thought I was doing it out of pity or something. But once I got my tongue in his mouth and my hand up under his shirt, he just went nuts. He was all about the ravishing me that night. We never got naked or anything, but he got his head up under my sweater and everything. Wouldn't let me touch him back though, even after he blew me and I was going down to return the favour. He grabbed my head and kissed me real slow and said, "No, Ray. This is enough." Then he pushed me down on my back and kissed me again before he rested his head on my shoulder and pulled my hand up to his hair. When I kissed the top of his head, his breath caught, almost like a sob and I had to wonder what the hell was eating him up so bad that he needed to be held. I kinda figured it wasn't about me. I don't know why, but I had a hunch. Yeah, I'm all about the hunches, like I said.

So I knew it wasn't me that had him all tied up in knots, but that didn't mean it couldn't be the end of us, for what it was worth. `Cause Fraser has this thing where he thinks misery doesn't deserve company. I knew he needed it right then, but I was sure that he'd get to thinking he was doing me a favour by making me leave. The guy's more like a Lassie movie than you know. I think he learned his view on life from one. Even though he says he's never even seen one.

I ended up sleeping with my arm twisted all funny so I could get my hand in the neck of his shirt. It was freakin' cold out there and I didn't want to lose my fingers before we even got going, you know. And all night he was snuggled up to me like a baby. Even had my sweater all scrunched up in his hand like he was never letting go.

It scared me. I thought whatever happened down that mineshaft with Muldoon must've broken him. Not bones and stuff, `cause he was fine like that. But the Fraser I knew and counted on was gone. He stopped assuming anything. Asked if a double sleeping bag was okay for the trip and went into this big explanation about body warmth and travelling light and more room for supplies. Like he didn't know I'd be all over sharing with him.

The first week we were out there, he hardly said a word, except to give instructions and point stuff out. At night we'd eat and then at bed time he'd curl up behind me and put his arms around me and hang on tight. Then he'd say, "Goodnight, Ray." And that was all she wrote. I'd wake up next morning with him still wrapped around me and a full bladder. I'd have to wriggle free so I could take a piss and when I'd get back, he'd be up and seeing about the dogs.

Every time I tried to get close enough to kiss him he'd find something else to do and he'd have this panicky look on his face. But I couldn't call him on it, `cause he's got this way of changing the subject before you tell him what the subject is, and he's good at it.

I'd say something like, "Oh hey, Frase." Like I just thought of something cool and he`d take off hunting and leave me by the fire all alone. Or I'd say, "I think Dief has the hots for that second dog on the right," trying to make it look like I was all about the dog stuff. But he'd know. Every single time he'd know when I was going to bring it up. Then he'd go on about the plan for tomorrow. So many kilometres this way and then we should be at this spot and we could turn this way for so long and camp at point fucking C.

I was angry at him, sure. But I'd never seen him this fragile before. He was like one of those little glass figurines that those guys blow through a straw to make. It's all layered to make it just right and it looks strong enough till you look real close. Then you can see all the tiny strands and you know if you accidentally break one, they'll all go. So yeah, I was angry, but I couldn't do the whole kicking him in the head till he saw sense thing. Just had to wait it out and keep trying to be normal.

At least he kept hanging on tight to me at night. That was enough for me to know he didn't want me to go away. He just needed space. I could give him that if it meant I didn't have to be away from him to do it. But I have to tell you, I was scared for him. I didn't know what was wrong. I couldn't just come out and ask, in case he decided he wasn't ready and pulled further away. Plus, out there you don't want things any more awkward than they have to be, trust me on that one.

I was just gonna have to go the slow and steady way. Drop him a hint here and there and let him figure it out for himself that I was there if he wanted to talk. In the meantime I decided I wasn't gonna sulk too, just `cause he was Mr Mopeyhead. This was my adventure and I was gonna have one if it killed me.

Plus, I had motives. I'm not a sneaky guy or anything, not motives like that, but I had things I wanted to achieve out there. I wanted to get good at this snow bunny thing. I wanted to know that I could do the whole living in an icebox thing if I had to. `Cause if Fraser wanted me to stick around, this was gonna be my life for like half the year. Plus I had the feeling he was gonna fall in a big heap eventually. He was acting kinda like I did when Stella kicked me out. Didn't want to talk about it, but didn't want to be alone, either. And I knew the hole was just around the corner. The one where you just fall in and wish it would close over your head. I needed to know I could keep us moving when that happened.

So I paid attention. He wasn't trying to teach me stuff. When I asked him to, he changed the subject or he gave me stupid jobs to do. Dig the freakin' toilet hole or start dinner. So I watched him when he was pitching the tent and tacking up the dogs and packing the sled. It was all about logic with that stuff, so I can see how he forgot about instinct. But I could also see that he was getting lonelier by the day. He was doing the shell thing. My thing, and I knew it wasn't something I could get him out of if he got too far in.

Me? I'll poke my head out and take a look if things get quiet, see if the coast is clear. But he would've just crawled in and got used to it and never come out. I know that about him.

So I watched and learned and sometimes I'd leave him sitting by the fire while I did stuff and he wallowed or brooded or whatever. I wished something would change so I'd have something to say to him that wasn't about the dogs or the dried food or the ice and snow. Something that would make him talk back.

Then one day there was this thing in the distance. I pulled out my glasses and squinted at it till I saw it was an Inuksuk. Fraser was trudging along with his head down and he hadn't seen it yet, so I stopped the dogs and he looked at me to see what was wrong. He didn't look interested, just worried. So I gave him a big smile and he sort of twitched one side of his lip at me, but didn't say anything.

I pointed and said, "Look Frase, it's one of those piles of rocks from the mall." He squinted and said, "An Inuksuk, yes." At least I got an answer. Which made me keep going. I was out to milk this moment for all it was worth and then some. I had like a week of talking that needed to come out. So I asked him if Inuksuk literally meant `pile of rocks' and he just went into lecture mode. Stood up straight and everything. He said, "No, Ray. It actually means `That which takes the place of a man.'" I laughed and said, "Cool. Exactly the same as vibrator then."

That got a reaction. He was shocked. He just did that confused thing, "Vibrator?" the look on his face was perfect. He even blushed, so I pushed it. Went on a little rant.

I was like, "C'mon, Frase. You can not tell me you're that clueless. Vibrator, you know? Penis shaped thing that goes buzz and you stick it...I mean women. Women stick it..." and he cleared his throat with that little cough thing he does and told me he knew what I was talking about, thank you kindly, Ray.

Now I was having fun. I said, "So then Inuksuk means the same as vibrator." Like that was final. For a moment I thought he was gonna let me get away with it, but he didn't. He got all prissy like and told me, "Well, no, actually. They serve entirely different purposes."

I frowned at him and said, "Yeah, I get that. But logically. It could mean the same thing." He said, "If that logic happened to be flawed, yes I suppose so," with a little frown of his own, like he was trying to remember if I was always like that. I told him flawed was fine, as long as it was logic and he actually made a little laugh and said, "All right."

Then he just walked off, heading straight for the Inukshuk. But at least he wasn't all hunched over anymore. He looked like he was going somewhere for the first time since we set out. So I got the dogs going again, slower, and kept up the babble. I asked if this meant there were seals nearby and he said it did indeed. Then he told me there was also good ice fishing nearby, and that the ice was perfect for making igloos and that gave me an idea.

I asked him if he knew how to make one. He told me he did, that his Dad had shown him when he was a kid. On one of his rare visits, which I knew were rare from before, but he got really sad when he said it. His eyes got all moist looking and I thought for sure he was going to cry. But he coughed and turned away and said something about pressing on. I said, "No." Just that, and he looked like I'd hit him. He didn't even turn around, just stood with his back to me, staring at his feet. He was waiting for something bad, and I didn't know if what I wanted to say was that bad thing, or if he was expecting something else.

I had to say it, though, `cause there was a point of no return feeling in the air and the thing about the point of no return is that you can't go back. So I told him I wanted him to show me how to build an igloo. My brain was filling in all these other bits, like "Show me how to make a home with you." But I didn't say those. I didn't think he was ready to hear that shit yet.

Well, you'd think the guy who gave speeches about the proper methods of pemmican making would be all over showing me how to build an igloo, but you'd be wrong. He came up with every excuse he could think of. "It's been a long time since I tried to make one." To which I answered that it didn't matter, since we had a tent if he couldn't get it to stay up.

"It's time consuming. We'd lose a day's travel." To which I answered that I wasn't in a hurry to be anywhere and I didn't think he was either.

He gave in then and told me that no, he wasn't in a hurry. I told him it was settled then. We'd make an igloo and if it was nice, we could stay a few days. Fish and rest and stare at the giant vibrator like pile of rocks. I was going for funny, but he just looked nervous. So I went about staking the dogs out, right there and he stood staring for a couple minutes, before he maybe felt guilty and started helping.

It was pretty cool. We worked together once he showed me what to do. We got the duet thing going, cutting chunks out of the snow with his knife and stacking them around us. He showed me how to smack the edges off the blocks to make them fit snug and to smooth it over with loose snow. I was clumsy at first, and we ruined a couple of blocks, but I got it in the end and it didn't feel like very long at all before we had the last block waiting to go in. Fraser said it was the door and we had to be inside and pull it into place behind us.

While we were getting all the stuff we'd need from the sled and settling the dogs properly for the night, I looked over at our little igloo and fuck me if it didn't look just like a giant snow turtle.

I had to do it, I told Fraser to keep unpacking and I went over and played in the snow. I made legs for my turtle, and a head and a tiny little tail at the back. And when I stood back far enough to admire my handiwork, Fraser came and stood next to me. He put a hand on my shoulder and said, "A turtle?"

I grabbed him and kissed him before he could run away. Just a hard, fast pushing my lips against his lips thing, but it was the best I'd had since that night he came out of the shed. I was so excited `cause we'd built a shell to hide in together. The sappy romantic part of me figured that was the best omen a guy could get. He was coming into my shell, or letting me into his. Didn't matter as long as we were in the same one.

He didn't smile or kiss me back or anything. Just put his mitten up to his mouth and stood as still as he did on gnome duty outside the consulate. No expression on his face, nothing. I turned away before it could hurt and started dragging stuff over to the igloo. He joined in soon enough and before too long we were snug as bugs inside a block of ice. Which was not too snug.

I got a bit worried about it. `Cause I didn't see how we were gonna warm up in there. Couldn't exactly have a raging fire, and anyway we had no wood. So I asked him how we were supposed to get warm and he started up a big long spiel about body heat and small areas and the little lampy thing we'd use to cook over and the inside smoothing over like glass.

I don't really know for sure what he said. I wasn't actually listening. Queer, huh? All I'd wanted for over a week to get the guy to talk and when he does? I'm not listening. Not to the words, anyway. But his voice. It was a little less flat and more like the Fraser I knew. Not perfect yet, but better.

We managed to make a passable stew out of pemmican, some snow and more dried vegetables. Even put some of that awful dried potato stuff in it. Actually tasted okay in the end. We ate it and then pretty much crashed. Making igloos is hard physical labour, let me tell you.

And you know what? It does warm up in there. Still not a tropical paradise, but at least I didn't wake up stiff and achy from shivering all night. I was even a little sweaty where Fraser was pressed up behind me. So I focused on that for a bit and discovered something else. Fraser was hard. And I don't mean all of him. Just the good bit. Well, the best good bit. `Cause he has a lot of good bits.

I was busting to take a leak, but I couldn't resist just pushing back into him for a minute, and giving it a little wiggle for good measure. And he started humping at my ass. Still sound asleep, but hey, it gave me a happy all the same. It meant something, I was sure of it. But...not much I could do about it with the bladder at critical mass and I got up and looked for the bits of rope hanging from the wall to find the door thingy.

He woke up and said, "Morning, Ray" for the first time on the trip and I grinned at him and told him to wallow while I did my thing and dealt with the dogs.

I was gone for ages and when I got back he was still in the bag, on his back and his face was a bit pink and I asked if maybe he was sick. He just got pinker and said no, he was feeling fine and maybe today we could try some ice fishing.

There was something bugging me about the way he was lying there, all boneless and relaxed and it wasn't till the ice melted out of my nose hairs that I got it. Smelt it. He'd dealt with his hard on while I was gone. I didn't know whether to be pleased or offended, so I pretended not to notice. He's not the only one who can play clueless. I learnt from the best.

So I melted some more snow and made coffee for me and tea for him and heated up the stew again for breakfast. And he stayed in the bag and watched me. I wanted to crawl in there with him, but I didn't know how he'd take it. I mean he had to know I would've been more than happy to take care of his...needs for him, but he didn't let me. He did it himself and I didn't know if that meant he was unsure, or if it was a "need it now" kinda thing, or even if he didn't want me doing that for him anymore.

I knew he wanted me around and I knew he needed the closeness, but maybe he didn't want the sex anymore. Maybe he only wanted buddies.

I don't need to tell you how that made me feel, but I put on the game face and took him his breakfast in bed and he sat up and smiled at me when he took it. He even ate it like he was starving, and maybe that was the jerking off talking, but it was good to see him have appetites. Any kind of appetites.

He didn't get up till after his second cup of tea. Man must have a bladder the size of Canada to stay in bed that long after waking up. When he got back he helped me clean up breakfast and then he melted some more snow and got out his shaving kit. I was thinking the beard growing was all about keeping your face warm, but he said he needed to shave. His voice was a bit funny when he said it and I wanted to do something to make him feel better, so I told him I would, too. He said, "Thank you, Ray." Which I thought was pretty weird, unless he was thinking it might be nicer for later, you know? We even got out some towels and had a wash. Just a pits and parts wash, but it felt good.

Then we went fishing. Which was a lot of sitting around doing nothing on opposite sides of a hole. Took me about 10 minutes to get bored, `cause Fraser had clammed up on me again. I sat looking at him, with his pink cheeks and his blue eyes all framed with the fur of his parka and it did things to me that I shouldn't have been bothered about, but I was. I didn't want to go whack off. I wanted to wait for him to join the party, but no way was I gonna be the one to bring it up. Not after he'd had a party of his own and not invited me.

I got the fidgets. Yeah, big surprise. Had to get up and play with the dogs for a while. Took them all off for some one on one time. Had to keep them on a lead, except Dief, `cause Fraser said they didn't know us enough to be trusted not to run off. I figured that was a crock, since they were a pack, but I followed orders for once in my life. Even if I did just think he was being a control freak again.

When I got back Fraser had two pretty big fish and was waiting for more. He didn't look too happy with himself, so I sat next to him and put my arm around his shoulder all casual buddy like and said, "Nice fish." And he burst into tears! Sounded like he was choking. I wrapped my other arm around him, but he got up and took off. Dief gave me a look and a growl that made me stay put then he went after Fraser. Straight into the igloo. I didn't know what the fuck to do, so I sat there and picked up the line Fraser had dropped and I fished. I caught one. Not as big as his, but I was pretty proud of myself. Not proud enough to go tell him about it, though.

I had a heap going on in my head, trying to figure out why "Nice fish," was the wrong thing to say. Couldn't figure it out and I decided I was gonna make him tell me. Just as soon as I got the nerve to go in there and talk to him. Which took a while.

So I discovered that the way to get the patience for the whole ice fishing thing is to be afraid of your other options. I can see how starvation would be a pretty scary other option. When I found that insight into the Inuit lifestyle I figured I had something to start the conversation with and anyway, I was frozen. Running around in the ice and snow isn't the same as sitting around in the ice and snow.

I packed up and grabbed the fish and headed for the safety and warmth of our little turtle house. Just as I got to the doorway Fraser stuck his head out, like he was about to come out again. And maybe I looked a little pissed off or something, `cause he backed up like I was gonna eat him. Which by this point I just might. I know I wanted to pop him one.

I mean, fine, mope around and be depressed and don't tell me why, but start acting like I'm something scary and I'm gonna expect answers, you know? That's just the kinda guy I am. I got a short fuse sometimes, and by now I was at the end of it with him.

I crawled inside and threw the fish at him and crawled into the sleeping bag to get warm. He didn't say a word, just started cleaning the fish. So I said to him, "Fraser, after you make those fish into food, we're gonna talk." And then I pulled my head into the bag and breathed heavy till it got warm in there. When I looked back out he was gone and the fish were all chopped up and ready to cook.

He didn't bother to try and get me to eat it raw, like I thought he would. That bothered me, too, `cause the Fraser I was used to would've had a big speech about the traditional Inuit thing with the raw stuff and not making faces when you eat it in front of them, but I guess he was either too much in a funk, or he knew I was not in the mood.

I watched him cook when he came back from giving the scraps to the dogs. For about the hundredth time I wished I'd bought a book or something. Not that the light was all that great by then, but I could've made do. I felt kinda like a pervert watching him, and I think he knew I was, `cause he was being all super careful with everything he did and keeping his back to me the whole time.

I hated it. Fucking hated the whole thing. Hated being here, hated him, and hated me. I figured maybe it would've been better if I never even came. I was sick of feeling like a fucking yoyo. Up, down. I think my string broke.

I crawled out and sat next to him while we ate and never said a word. And I tried to cool down, `cause lets face it, the guy wasn't about to spill his guts to me if I was looking like I hate him, was he? The fish was pretty good, so I told him that and even though he didn't answer me, he did relax a little and then I did and then he did some more and by the time we both finished eating things felt mostly good. Except for the silence.

It was pretty obvious it was up to me to say something first, so I did. I asked him what I said out by the hole that made him freak out like that. He told me it was complicated and I wouldn't believe him anyway. I said, "Fraser, ol' buddy, ol' pal, you don't lie. I got no choice but to believe you." And he sighed like it was all too hard, but he knew he had to do it all the same.

Then he started on this whole big explanation about how he used to get visits from his Dad, after the whole "trail of his killers" thing and somewhere during the "attached as liaison" bit. Okay, that was weird, but who am I to judge? Seems he got to know the guy better after he died than he ever did while he was alive. But here's the kicker. His Dad was there in the mineshaft with Muldoon and Fraser said his Mom came and took his Dad away and now he felt like he'd lost them both all over again. Only he missed his Dad more, `cause he was just getting to know him.

How the hell he was even getting up in the morning, I have no idea. And he sat there telling me all this and he didn't lose it once. Seems the fish thing was something his Dad said to him when we pulled the dead guy out of the city reservoir and it was just too close to the moment it happened, with me at his shoulder and all. I get that. Things just ate at him till he was fragile and what I said broke him.

I apologised, even though it sounded pathetic. I'm not good at those kinda words. I suck at that stuff. But he just shook his head and said something about thinking he knew the difference between a hawk and a handsaw and figuring out he didn't really.

I asked him to explain, but he said it wasn't important. What was important was that he knew he had to pick himself up and get on with it.

And after that, he pulled a couple of candy bars out of his pack. I said, "You been holding out on me, buddy?" and he said he was just saving them for when the time was right, whatever that meant. So I told him I had a little surprise myself and dug around in my own pack till I found the bottle of vodka I'd stashed in there.

He just raised his eyebrows at me and shook his head. I got all defensive and told him I figured we weren't about to need to fight hungry bears or anything in here, so it was safe for me to have a drink if I wanted. He said, "True enough, Ray." And then after a minute, he said, "You certainly deserve one after putting up with me lately."

I said, "Yeah, you've been a real blast, Frase, but there's an up side." And then I let him give me the please explain look for as long as it took me to pour a slug of vodka into my super classy tin cup and take a good mouthful.

I kinda like the please explain look. Means he's interested in what I've got to say.

Thing was, though, I knew this was the bit where I said my piece. This was the bit where I had to trust all my hunches and actually say shit I'd been trying to get away with not having to say. I didn't want to, but if I didn't do it now, I probably never would. So it was time to stick my neck out.

Another gulp of the courage in a cup and I cleared my throat and off I went. Told him all about how I liked having to learn how to survive out here, `cause I figured it was something I'd need to know. I didn't say it quite that easy though. I think it must've come out more like I was planning on burying him like that Franklin guy and leaving a pile of stones behind or something.

I know I said something about him being in a hole and me having to find my way back with my wits and superior intellect. So I stopped babbling on and he looked at me all confused and said, "Ray, what exactly are you trying to say?"

I said, "Small words?" and he nodded and said, "Small words," back to me and I opened my mouth to tell him that I was willing to live up here with him, but I only said, "I love you." Which is what the whole thing meant anyway, wasn't it?

He freaked me out a bit then. Well, okay, a lot. He laughed. It wasn't just one of those little chuckle things he does when he thinks he's being funny, either. It was a proper laugh like what I said was the funniest thing he ever heard. This is not the reaction a guy wants to get when he says that, you know. Plus, it's not like I could take it back or make it seem like I meant something else. I was just about to tell him I was sorry and that I'd just have to live with it when he wiped his eyes and said, "I know, Ray."

I was all, "You know? How do you know? I never told you before."

He said it was because I'm not good at hiding that stuff and he'd known it for ages, but it was nice to hear me say it. Then he told me he hoped I knew he loved me, too. I told him I didn't, even though I'd had a hunch, mostly just so I could hear him say it back to me. Which he did.

Plus he backed it up with kisses. The long, slow, deep kind with tongue and hands on my face and everything. It was all pretty romantic, even if we did smell a bit fishy. By the time we got zipped up in the sleeping bag and managed to get enough clothes off to go any further we'd figured out we didn't have any lube or condoms, so we made do. The other stuff was almost as good as the whole shebang anyway and this way we'd have something to look forward to later, when we got all civilised again.

It was the strangest thing. We'd been doing the deed for months, but that night it was like some kind of first time. It was like, even though I knew his body and he knew mine, we were finding out the inside stuff.

Like, I knew when I took him in my mouth he'd put his hands in my hair and say my name, but I didn't notice before how he said it, or that his hands were stroking my head instead of holding it there. Like he was trying to keep touching me when I was all the way down there, you know.

Anyway, you don't need the details. Let's just say it was good, real good. But best of all was the talk after. We finally had the "Where is this thing going?" talk.

Turns out he'd decided it was going right back to Chicago. He wanted to keep me in my natural habitat, even though I told him I was more than cool with being a snow bunny. But no, he liked being able to do the detective thing and he liked doing it with me. So he got the Ice Queen's job, but with the title "Acting Liaison Officer" until they can swing him enough promotions to take the "Acting" bit off. The way he's going it won't be long.

I took shifts that worked around him so we could keep working together for the most part. On the days when he was too busy to do that I just hooked in on other cases, or interviewed witnesses with Frannie or something. She's great at that if you can get her to shut up for five minutes. The best way to do that? Threaten to tell her what I did to Fraser the night before. In detail. Clams her up every time.

The best bit though is vacation time. We always take it in winter and most guys would head for somewhere tropical, but not us. We go north and hole up in the cabin and hunt and ice fish and even skate on the pond out back. Sometimes we borrow dogs and go on a mini adventure, just to freeze our butts off for fun.

Once, I even went up a few days before him and got some guys with a snowmobile to drop me out in the middle of nowhere and he had to find me. That was kinky. But that's not the point.

The point is he got his man. Even if he didn't always know that was what he was looking for.

So sometimes you think you know what you want, but it turns out you really want something else. Like with me and Fido, you know? If he didn't stick his neck out I never would've seen how perfect he was for me. It's the same with me and Fraser. Only I'm the turtle.

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DueSouth Seekrit Santa Story

Ray's Life as a Turtle.

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