Chapter Text
The next morning, Ray played the message again and it was just as surreal as the night before. Well, first he drank coffee; then he played the message again. The last bit was his Mom going on about how all his folks wanted was somebody to care about him the way he deserved, and how sad she'd been when Stella hadn't been that person 'cause she still loved Stella, too, but she could see how much Ben cared and how happy they were ... and thank God she wrapped up the message there or Ray would have had another one of those brain freezes.
He mixed up another cup of coffee and went over the night before again.
Ben had been ... charming with his parents. Not all stiff and polite, the way he kept most people out, but more open. Kinda like he was with Ray, except without the Grade A Canadian stealth snark. Kinda like it was important they really like him. Huh.
Come to think of it, Ben had worn his best jeans and shirt—ones that didn't look like he'd done five years of wood chopping in them. And he'd been freshly shaved. And he'd brought flowers for his Mom. Or Dief had—flowers were always kind of a team effort with the wolf around.
It was looking like a "meet the parents" night.
On the bright side, at least it had gone better than when Ray had met Stella's parents.
But was Ben really, uh, passionate about him?
He had really jumped in and defended him when that lady at the reception started shouting what a pervert he was. Ray'd just figured that was buddies, or the Mountie being truthful or something. But maybe he'd been offended that she'd think his date would be groping a woman?
Damn. Ray'd been kind of thinking of asking her to dance until she went nuts. Ben had made a specific point of inviting him because there'd be dancing, and he thought Ray would enjoy the opportunity, and Ben appreciated the chance to do a little waltzing himself, and ... holy crap. Had Ben asked him on a date in Canadian and Ray just didn't realize it? It was probably a good thing that woman had gotten all pissed off at him, or he probably would have hurt Ben's feelings, taking off and dancing with someone else.
Since then, Ben had had him over to the Consulate, where he'd cooked him dinner. And he'd taken him to the Blackhawks' Wednesday night game.
And Ray had invited him to meet his parents.
Holy crap! He was dating Ben and he didn't even know it.
Ray had to get out ... had to .... had to get to the gym and work the punching bag until he could barely stand.
That night Ray started thinking again about his best friend accidentally turning into his boyfriend. What would happen if Ray said he wanted to be just friends? Was Ben already in love with him or something? Everybody else seemed to think it was pretty serious.
Ray was pretty serious about Ben, too, at least as far as friends. He was a nineties kinda guy; he could admit he loved Ben, even if he wasn't going to pop out with it during a hockey game or anything. But the thought of losing him? Ray felt the same cold emptiness in his gut he'd had when that perp had knocked Ben out. He couldn't lose him.
He called the Consulate and begged off watching the Leafs game on TV, because loving the guy was one thing, but what if this was the night Ben decided to get to first base? The idea of Ben pulling the old arm-across-the-back-of-the-sofa move was actually kinda funny, except the part where if it happened for real Ray would freak out. He still needed to figure out what to do about this.
"It's nothing serious. I just don't feel too good tonight."
"Are you sure I can't bring you anything? I have a number of remedies that are quite efficacious—"
"Ben, no, don't worry about it. It's not a big deal. I'm just going to go to bed early."
"Well, sleep is often the best medicine, Ray."
"That's what my Mom always said, too." God, his Mom would love hearing Ben all ready to hover over Ray while he was sick.
In fact, pretty much any way you could think of Ben would be—well, was—the perfect boyfriend. They liked a lot of the same things. Ben was funny, and got Ray's jokes, too. Ray felt good, happy, when Ben was around. Comfortable. They were both a little short-tempered and stubborn, but the thing was they both got that. Whenever they got into it, the minute they cooled down they worked it out.
Which was all great. Everything good to go in a domestic partner-type person. Plus his parents and Stella and Welsh all thought the guy was a prince, aces. But they were also good things in a best friend, and there was one big difference.
It. Doing ... It.
And the one thing that kept running through Ray's brain was try anything, which was freaking the hell out of him. That had been the motto for him and Stella in bed, and it had worked. It had worked like gangbusters; whatever other problems they'd had, their sex life wasn't one of them.
The thing with try anything was that there was nothing that Ray'd tried that he hadn't liked. He was pretty much good to go with the whole entire sexual smorgasbord—except that every single thing he'd ever done, he'd done with Stella. He had no idea if it was just a chemistry thing with her, or if he had to be madly head over heels in love with the person, or if it would make a difference if he was with a guy, or ...
Ray liked being with Ben. And he could see being with Ben as a partner-boyfriend thing. He'd always thought he was a one-woman man, but maybe he was a one-person person.
It was just that last step Ray wasn't sure about. He'd just assumed because of Stella ... if Ben was a girl maybe they'd be practically engaged by now. Hell, definitely if Ben was a girl they'd be practically engaged by now.
The queer thing didn't bother him, really—he'd done undercover and been A-OK with all the guys he'd met, and hadn't minded being taken for a gay while he was on assignment. He never gave a damn what other people thought about him as long as the people he cared about were cool, and, hey, they already were. The question was, was he actually queer for Ben?
His thoughts kept him tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning.
The next morning Ray was woken up at nine by someone knocking. He pulled on a pair of sweats and staggered to the door. Too bad if he was out of it from his late night and his hair was going in every which direction; anyone knocking this early on the weekend would have to take what they got.
"Oh, dear, Ray! You do look under the weather." Ben nudged his way past, carrying some bags. "I understand if you don't want company, but I wanted to bring you some freshly squeezed orange juice. You know, 31% of the vitamin content is lost in canned— well, anyway, this is fresh. And I've discovered that Tom Yum soup has a way of making me feel right as rain when I'm a little under the weather. Er," he looked at the items he'd unpacked on the table. "Perhaps you don't want to have the orange juice and soup together." He turned and laid the backs of his fingers against Ray's forehead. "You feel a little warm, but not too feverish. There's aspirin in the bag, if you need it, though."
"You brought me soup from Siam Palace?" Ray flinched inside. He sounded pitiful, like he was eight years old. But with his confusion and lack of sleep, he felt kinda vulnerable to Ben's bustling caretaking. Like he just wanted to lean into it and let Ben make him all better. Too bad that 1) he was a big fat liar and not really sick at all, and b) he needed Ben out of there so he could think about him without getting distracted by actual-him.
Except his mouth just opened up and said, "Come dancing with me," out of nowhere. But as soon as he was saying it, it felt right. He went with his instinct. "Come dancing with me."
"Ray, it's Sunday morning. And besides, you are in no condition to—"
"No, I mean like next weekend or something. We never got to dance at that Consulate party."
Yeah, it was right. Ray's gut told him he was in the zone and Ben was beaming. "That sounds very enjoyable, Ray. And it's a good incentive for you to get better, besides."
"Yeah." A yawn interrupted him. "I think I'd better get back to bed."
"I'll be out of your hair in just a moment." Ben poured a glass of orange juice and handed it off to him, then put the jug and the soup away in the fridge. "Do you have everything you need?"
Ray couldn't help thinking that if they were a little further along in the dating, Ben would probably be tucking him into bed, as well, and that idea felt kinda ... nice.
Since they weren't that far along, Ben just pressed the backs of his fingers against Ray's cheek, and left after telling him to take care and call if he needed anything at all.
Ray shook his head to clear it. Definitely vulnerable. He couldn't stop thinking that Thai food equaled love.
Dief bounced ahead of him to the florist's. Ray figured he could use some advice from Ben's roomie and Ben had let him borrow the mutt for the day, no questions asked.
Before they went into the shop, Ray pulled Dief's muzzle around and said, "Okay, so here's the thing. I want tonight to be romantic. Real special. Got it?" Dief gave a happy bark and Ray opened the door.
Dief ran straight in and headed directly for the red roses.
"Are you sure, buddy? It's not, you know, too much?"
Dief gave another little bark and reared up a little to sniff the roses.
"Okay, that's what I was thinking, too. I just wanted a second opinion." He went to the counter and ordered two boutonnières.
Ray leaned against the counter and the wolf ran around the shop sniffing everything while they waited. Suddenly Dief turned towards the door, excited, and yapped happily when Francesca walked in.
"Dief!" She gave him a friendly scratch around the ears, then looked up. "Ray," she said, slightly surprised.
"Hi, Francesca." He started to rub his eyebrow, and pulled his hand back down. He was even picking up Ben's habits.
"You know, you can call me Frannie. It's only Frase and Harding that call me Francesca. And Ma, when she's pissed."
"Yeah? Okay, Frannie. I can do that. So what are you doing here?"
"Fraser always said Dief thought this was the best florist in the city." Ray waited patiently. "Oh! One of the detectives is in the hospital, so I'm picking up a bouquet for him from the squadroom." Ray started to say he was sorry but Francesca—Frannie—cut him off with a wave of her hand. "It's not serious. Dewey's just not the sharpest bulb on the Christmas tree, you know?"
"Uh, you mean the brightest bulb?"
"Sharpest, brightest. Whatever. What're you and Dief up to?"
Just then the florist came out with two small clamshells. Ray pulled them off the counter to show Dief, who barked his approval, then showed them to Frannie.
"Oh," she said, a little faintly. "You and Frase have a big night planned?"
"Yeah," he said, feeling a little awkward. "Are you ... I mean, I kinda had the impression you ..." He didn't really know how to put it.
"No! Well, yes. I mean ..." Frannie stammered back. "I did have feelings for Frase, you know? I mean, who wouldn't—he's gorgeous. But he didn't have the same feelings back. It actually makes me feel a little better that maybe the reason he didn't like me like that was because," she made a weird twisty motion with her hand. Still, she sounded a little wistful when she said, "Besides, you guys are great together. He's different with you, real open and fun. Usually when I see him he's all stiff and proper."
Ray wanted to tell her that now she wasn't trying to jump his bones he'd probably relax around her, too, but he couldn't think of a nice way to put it.
"Anyway, I hope you guys have a real nice time tonight."
Yeah, me too, thought Ray nervously. It was their first date that he knew was a date.
Ben was grateful Ray had dropped Dief back at the Consulate. After Ray had said to wear something nice, Inspector Thatcher had confirmed for him that the club they were going to was very elegant. She had gone home earlier, though, and Ben was left looking at himself in the mirror, fiddling with his suit. He very rarely wore it, as most formal events he attended were in the line of duty, and the uniform served. In fact, most of the events he'd worn the suit for were in the line of duty as well.
"You're sure it's all right?" he asked Dief, who just rolled his eyes and flopped over. "Well I'm sorry if I'm a bit nervous. I don't often have the opportunity to indulge in such upscale recreation."
Dief grunted.
"What do you mean, that's not why I'm nervous? Of course that's why I'm nervous. I can't think of any other reason why I would possibly—"
Dief interrupted him with a snort.
"Stop thinking? I am a man, a rational creature. I think; that's what I do! Cogito, ergo sum. Not that I would expect you to understand."
Dief gave an annoyed yip and heaved himself off the floor to trot out the door.
Ben gaped after him. "'Go with your instincts?' What on Earth is he yapping on about?"
He felt anxiously at his tie knot and turned to the mirror again to make sure it was straight, only to startle at seeing his father behind him in the reflection. "Good lord, Dad! Do you think you could give me some warning?"
"Listen to the wolf, son. You've got good instincts, and they'll steer you better than logic tonight."
"Since when would you, of all people, argue against logic?"
"Thinking's only good for what's in your conscious mind, Benton. It won't get at what's in your unconscious."
Oh for heaven's— "I'm fully versed in basic psychological theory, thank you," Ben snapped. What did any of this have to do with getting dressed for dinner and dancing?
His father raised his eyebrows at him. "You asked for a warning. That's the best I can give you."
Ben gave up. Of course the two most infuriating beings in his life would gang up on him to be cryptic.
"Well, how do I look?"
"Very dashing, son. Very dashing."
His Dad looked proud and pleased, so Ben decided to quit fussing.
Ray's voice echoed down the hallway, "Knock, knock!"
His Dad disappeared as Ben abandoned the mirror to go out and greet Ray.
"Wow, you look real nice," Ray said quietly, and Ben felt unaccountably pleased.
"As do you, Ray," he replied. Which was the truth. Ray's suit was of a cut that gave it a slightly vintage look; formal, but with a bit of flair that reflected Ray's unique style.
"Here, I have ..." Ray showed him—ah, boutonnières. How thoughtful. Ray set one on the reception desk and opened the other. "I'll just, uh ..." He waved towards Ben's lapel.
"Please. Thank you, kindly, Ray." Ben caught his first good look at the flower, and he opened his mouth in surprise. But shut it immediately before the words could come tumbling out. You know, in the language of flowers, red roses are an indicator of romantic love. No, that wouldn't do at all—Ray was unversed in the kinds of minutiae Ben had filled his mind with over the years, and there was no point in possibly embarrassing him with that piece of trivia.
Instead, Ben held still while Ray moved in and concentrated on getting the flower pinned onto Ben's jacket without sticking him. This close, Ben could smell a light touch of aftershave, with faint traces of shaving cream and hair gel and soap underneath. He smiled to himself. He quite liked Ray's natural scent, and the sweat he'd work up when they played hockey or sparred. But it was nice to see this other side of Ray, and the care he'd put into preparing for their evening out.
Ray finished pinning the boutonnière, and smoothed his hands lightly over Ben's jacket before stepping back. "There you go." He looked slightly flushed. Perhaps the thermostat in the Consulate was too high? Inspector Thatcher had a tendency to nudge it up.
"Thank you, Ray; it's lovely. Here, allow me." And Ben took the other flower and stepped closer to Ray. He was focused on maneuvering the pin carefully, but ... did Ray sniff him? Well, turnabout was fair play. Ben wasn't an aftershave man, but he flattered himself that the pine balsam in the shaving cream he made left a pleasing scent.
Ray's flower looked to be securely fastened ... and Ben realized that he was lightly stroking Ray's jacket as he stepped back.
"Thanks, Ben," said Ray, softly. "Okay, grab your coat and let's go."
Ray on a formal night out was a revelation. Ben wondered again that Stella had let him go, though he realized this was probably the side of him she wished to see all the time. He couldn't imagine her being so enamored of the head-kicking, hockey-playing Ray. This Ray, though, who held open car doors, checked their coats, ordered a nice wine with their dinner—this Ray would certainly catch the eye of any woman in the room when they'd finished eating and were ready to dance. So far, though, Ray hadn't done more than glance at the floor and nod approvingly at the couples who were already out waltzing to the dinner music.
Once their waiter had cleared their plate away, Ray stood—and came around the table to Ben, his hand held out. He cleared his throat lightly. "May I have this dance?"
Ben gaped. "I don't ...." He glanced down. His hand had somehow already reached up and taken Ray's.
"It's okay," Ray assured him. "I know how to do all the backwards parts. I taught at dance camp when I was a teenager."
Before Ben could explain that who would follow wasn't what he was confused about, he remembered. Go with your instincts. Good lord, was this what they had been talking about? His instincts seemed to be pushing him to his feet and onto the dance floor following Ray.
Ray easily pulled him into the standard dance position, but once Ben started moving, let him lead.
"Dance camp, really?"
And so they talked as they twirled slowly around the dance floor—about Ray begging his parents for lessons because Stella was going, and about Ben's grandmother partnering him around the cabin to their old Victrola, because it was a skill every boy should know.
When the band took a break, Ben had to say, "You're an excellent dancer, Ray." It was one thing to hear about it, quite another to experience the ease with which they moved together, like they were linked, body and mind.
"Yeah, you too." Ray seemed thoughtful. "I haven't ..." He shook his head. "The only person I ever danced with like this is Stella," he admitted softly. "I danced with a lot of people, and with good dancers it's a lot of fun, but it's like doing the steps real well. But this is like ... like the music and you and me and the dancing ... it all makes something bigger, you know?"
Ben felt a small clutch in his chest at Ray's simple eloquence, and he found himself reaching to lay his hand on Ray's shoulder. "Yes, Ray. I understand exactly what you mean." The moment stretched, then he flushed and dropped his hand.
"So, when the band gets back from their break, they're going to play swing. You up for that?"
"Oh, certainly, Ray; that sounds very enjoyable."
"Okay, I gotta hit the men's room. You need to...?" He jerked his thumb and Ben shook his head no. "Okay, can you get us some waters?"
Ben welcomed the respite. Because instinct had gotten him so far, but his mind was desperate to catch up. Apparently he and Ray were on a date—a romantic, red-rose, dinner-and-dancing date. With each other. And by all evidence, his unconscious mind had no problem at all with it.
He quickly catalogued what he knew of his opinions about Ray: engaging, admirable, honorable, attractive—certainly attractive—entertaining, loyal, courageous, forgiving, humorous, intelligent, comfortable, stimulating ... There was nothing in their friendship that led Ben to doubt their suitability for each other—on the contrary, Ray would be an ideal companion and partner in any sense of the words. Assuming sexual compatibility.
Ben knew enough of both the natural world and human history to be aware that homosexual attractions were fully a part of the human experience. He was just a bit chagrined he'd never considered the possibility for himself. Despite being as widely read as he was, it was a bit galling to only realize at this age that he'd been blinkered by society's heteronormative assumptions. He'd assumed his love for Ray to be friendship, and never considered the potential for a more connubial happiness.
Ben had always welcomed Ray's little touches—and, dear God, how long had Ray been waiting for him to respond?—and he was greatly enjoying the full body experience of dancing with Ray. He determined he would give his full, open-minded participation to the rest of their date.
The band returned, and so did Ray, and they threw themselves into a rather exuberant and athletic dance set. Ray laughed out loud when Ben lifted him through a swing, and then Ben felt his own feet leave the ground as Ray spun him around. They matched their strength in the cooperation of dance, rather than the competition of sport, meeting challenge with trust, and Ben found it exhilarating.
They were heated and sweating and having the time of their lives. Ray crammed his tie into his jacket pocket and undid a few buttons on his shirt. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he reached over and did the same thing to Ben. Ben noticed a warming, a slight fullness, below his waist at the feel of Ray's hands undressing him, and felt an honest anticipation for more.
Just when Ben wasn't sure he'd be able to keep going, the band switched to a slow song, and all around them couples pulled together and started shuffling in small circles. Ray brought his body up against Ben's and put his arms around his neck. Ben's arms wrapped around Ray's waist, and he rested the side of his head against Ray's.
"This is my favorite part," said Ray.
"I find I'm rather fond of it myself," confessed Ben, and held Ray more closely.
The song finally ended, and the band left for another break.
"You want to to go for a drive?" asked Ray.
Ben looked around at the hot, crowded room. "Yes, I believe I would."
Ray retrieved their coats and sent the valet for the car, then escorted Ben into the passenger seat. Ben found it novel to be on the receiving end of a gentleman's attentions, but this was the date Ray had planned for him; when Ben planned a romantic evening, he supposed he could be the chivalrous one. There were certain aspects of two men being together that would take getting used to. In fact, he realized it would only be fair for him to learn to dance backwards as well.
As they traveled down South Lakeshore Drive, Ben offered a silent thanks once again to Daniel Burnham, who had planned parks running the length of Lake Michigan's shore, preventing the city from encroaching upon this welcome natural space. The vast stretch of water stretching away from them was as free of human crowding as the snow fields of home, and Ben often sought out the shore to turn his back to the city and regain a sense of balance.
As if reading Ben's thoughts, Ray pulled off the road into the park named for the planner, and nosed the car into a space overlooking the water. Ben felt a warm appreciation for the innate sensitivity poorly hidden beneath Ray's prickly exterior.
"Did you ... did you have a nice time?"
"Indeed I did, Ray. Beyond my imaginings." Which was absolutely the truth, although Ray didn't need to know how meager his imaginings had been at the start of the evening.
"Yeah?" Ray seemed pleased at the success of the date, but then his smile dimmed just a bit. "So in your imaginings, you weren't maybe hoping ..."
Oh dear. Ben's thickheadedness and lack of response to Ray's overtures before this evening must have created an expectation for disappointment, painfully visible in Ray's retreat. It took no heroics on Ben's part to rectify the situation; so far he had enjoyed the intimacy of every touch they'd shared. He took the leap. He unfastened his seat belt and turned towards Ray. "Are you referring, perhaps, to ..."
He lifted his hand to Ray's face. Ray leaned in and Ben leaned in and their lips met and ... Ben felt a thrill run the length of his body. His lips moved again to capture Ray's—a kiss and a kiss and another; and then he opened to let his tongue seek out ... Oh! There was Ray's tongue, greeting his, eager and demanding and trying to make up for a lifetime of separation.
Ray's body twisted towards him, and his hands slid inside Ben's coat to wrap around him. Ben cradled the side of Ray's head in his hand and kissed, so grateful that their closeness translated to this—this physical desire, this opening to each other.
Ben merged with Ray, and lost all sense of time.
When their kisses finally tapered away, he pulled back lightly to see Ray looking at him, his eyes luminous in the moonlight.
"Wow." Which was more eloquence than Ben was capable of at the moment. Ray then cleared his throat and went on, "I've never, uh ... I've never ... with a guy ..."
Ben was surprised by the depth of the relief he felt. "I haven't either," he confessed. He sat up in the seat and took Ray's hand between his.
"Oh. Good, then." Ray looked relieved as well. "It's, uh ... I like it so far. With you."
"As do I, Ray. I'm pleased that our compatibility extends to the physical level."
"So, are you okay with taking it a little slow? The physical part, I mean?"
"Oh! Certainly, Ray. I mean, seeing depictions of homosexual congress in classical art is one thing, but I think for personal experience I'm content to let our relationship advance a step at a time.
"Uh, I'm not sure what guys getting perverted in Washington has to do with it, but I'm with you on the last part." Ray gently reclaimed his hand and started the car.
The drive was comfortably quiet. Once he'd gotten back on the road, Ray had given his hand back to Ben to hold. They arrived at the Consulate far too soon, and Ben regretfully let go. Ray came around to his door, and they stood on the sidewalk together, foggy plumes of breath merging in the evening air.
"I had a wonderful evening tonight, Ray. Thank you."
"Me too, Ben." Ray leaned in to give him a kiss that turned into several before he pulled back. "You better get inside before I change my mind on the going slow thing."
Ben replied quite truthfully, "Believe me, I understand the temptation."
Ray's smile in response was radiant. "See you soon."
Ben reluctantly turned to go inside, and waited in the foyer until he heard the car pull away.
He headed for his room, grateful that Diefenbaker was asleep. He would undoubtedly be insufferably smug about the outcome of the date, although Ben would still thank him for his advice. He was man enough to admit when the wolf was right.
A warm glow of happiness still filled him from the events of the evening, mixed with grateful relief. The last time he had responded so viscerally to someone, obsession had caused him to override every value he held dear. There was a part of him that had been afraid that his desires would always draw him to the same kind of darkness. Thankfully he could be certain that the object of his affections this time was worthy, someone he'd be proud to call partner. Ray's innate integrity and sense of justice, though expressed through a more urban vernacular, matched his own.
Nevertheless, there was someone whom he had hurt the last time he was embroiled in a relationship, and he worried that the mere fact that he was involved in a same-sex partnership might be hurtful to the same friend. Eager to head off any misunderstandings or rifts, he picked up the phone.
Conditioned by years of cop instinct, Ray reached for the phone in his sleep.
"Hello? Ray?"
"Benny? You okay?" Ray squinted at the clock.
"Well yes, Ray. I'm fine. In fact I'm better than fine. I am ..." Ray heard him clear his throat. "In truth, I am deliriously happy. You see, I am romantically involved with Ray Kowalski."
"And you had to tell me this at three in the morning? Benny, it's been obvious for weeks." Ray tried to figure out what the big deal was. "Oh, wait. Did you say the 'L' word tonight? Is that what this is about?"
"The 'L' ... You mean 'love'? I, uh, no, not that."
"Benny, buddy, just 'cause he's a guy doesn't mean that you can skate on that stuff. Take it from an Italian, you gotta tell him. And then wait 'til a decent hour to tell me about it, okay?"
Ray hung up the phone and shook his head. Clueless. The Mountie was clueless in relationships. Actually, most guys were; he should write a book.
Ben showed up at Ray's door Monday night. He'd spent the last two days bouncing between blissful memories of Saturday night and being preoccupied with his friend's advice. Well, once he'd gotten over the shock that Diefenbaker, his father and Ray Vecchio had all known of his attraction before he had. Still, Ray's warning worried him. He had to admit that his usual emotional reserve was probably a detriment in a romantic relationship, and he didn't want to run the risk of losing Ray.
Ray's pleased surprise when he opened the door was an encouraging sign, and Ben followed him into the living room.
"Ray, I feel like I should tell you my feelings for you." Ben played with the brim of his hat.
"You love me," said Ray.
Oh dear. Now that it was out there, this was so much more difficult than it seemed. "I admire you greatly."
"You love me."
"I'm quite taken with you."
"You love me."
"I have great affection for you."
"You love me."
"I love you."
"I already knew." Ben looked at him in astonishment. "You brought me Thai soup."
Apparently, Ben really was the last to know.
"S'okay." Ray's lips twitched in a smile as tugged on Ben's shirt to pull him in for a kiss. "I love you, too."
And suddenly everything was too much. Ben squeezed Ray tightly to him, buried his face in Ray's neck and held on for dear life, while Ray stroked his back and said soothing things Ben wasn't capable of hearing.
When Ben recovered, he tried to pull away, mortified, but Ray held him close and stroked his hair. "I know, Ben. I get it. It sucks being alone." Ben stifled a snort. He'd been alone nearly his whole life—it "sucked" beyond telling. "And this? It feels almost too good to be true, doesn't it? But it is true. It is. I love you."
Ben relaxed into the embrace and brought his hand up to stroke Ray's hair. "And I, you, Ray."
"Okay. Okay, good." They stood there for a while, holding each other, and then Ray said, "Okay, here's what we're going to do." He pulled gently away, but took Ben's hand and held on tightly as he led them to the sofa. "We're going to curl up here and we're going to watch stupid TV." He sat against the side of the sofa and stretched his legs out in a vee, patting the space in between for Ben. Ben sat down and lay back gingerly onto Ray, relaxing into Ray's embrace when Ray brought his arms around. Ray clicked the remote, and they lay there entwined, neither bothering to watch the television.
By the time Ben flipped over and started kissing him, Ray was really noticing he'd had someone pressed up against his dick, and his dick had been liking the company. From the way Ben was doing full-body contact along with his kissing ... oh, yeah, there was Ben's dick looking for company, too.
The layers of jeans brought back memories of high school and making out under his or Stella's parents' roof. It was kind of a nice tease, but once Ray got his hands under Ben's sweater and undershirt he suddenly wanted a lot more skin. Ben was pressing against him harder and kissing him deeper, too, so Ray got his hands between them and went to work on buttons and zippers. Ben went even more wild once Ray got his hands down the back of his underwear, and—whoa— that was a hell of an ass he found under his hands. Ben shifted his balance onto one forearm and worked his other hand into Ray's jeans, and—God!—Ben's hand on his cock was electric.
Ray pumped upwards helplessly, but what he really wanted ... what he really wanted ... He pushed at Ben's jeans and boxers, shoving them down and out of his way, and pulled Ben's hips down to his. He scrambled with his other hand to move Ben's hand out of the way just enough to ... yeah. Oh yeah, both their dicks together, and both their hands pulling and squeezing, and both of them making little gasps and needy noises. And, God, hearing Ben make needy noises—most of which sounded like "Ray"—was going to push him right over the brink. "Oh, God, Ben!" He came all the way from his toes. It had been years since he'd gone off like that, and he lay there in stunned appreciation.
Ben gave a desperate little cry and stripped his hand, all slippery from Ray, even faster along his cock. Ray felt it pulse against his and add even more slick to his belly, while Ben fell forward with an "oh oh oh" onto Ray's shoulder. Ray brought his arms up to hold him.
After a minute, Ben rolled sideways on the couch and gave Ray a look that was pure joy, almost ... innocent. Ray tangled their legs together and pulled him close. He was almost afraid of how hard he'd fallen for this guy, but if he couldn't trust Ben, there was no one to trust in the world. Ben was like ... was like one of those animals that mated for life, an eagle or something. And for some reason he'd chosen Ray. Ray tightened his arms around him.
And, hell, if sex like this was what was getting added to the smorgasbord, Ray was completely fine with the gay thing. He'd have to find out Ben's position on trying anything.
He dropped a kiss onto the top of Ben's head. They'd go clean up in a minute. Or five.
A few days later Ray was dropping Ben off after a little sparring at the gym when he remembered, "Hey, Ben, what do you think about getting together with Stella on Friday? She has two extra tickets to Mamma Mia! and offered them to us."
Ben went suddenly tense in the car seat.
"Stella?"
"Stella."
"You ex-wife, Stella?"
"Yeah, Stella. You met her, you said." Ben looked twitchy. "Look, she's probably not your favorite person, but we'd all be watching the show, not making a lotta conversation or anything." Ben was scratching his eyebrow like crazy. What the ... "You're not worried ...? I mean, Ben. I'm in love with you."
"No, no, Ray. I know. It's not that." Ben looked even more upset and Ray was getting pretty damned freaked out. "Oh, God. I feel terrible. I should have told you this long ago. Ray, I'm so sorry. I'll understand if you feel you can't trust me."
The hairs on the back of Ray's neck stood up. "What is it, Ben?" he asked, low and quiet, trying not to get scared. Yet.
"I may have misrepresented the circumstances under which I met your ex-wife." Ben looked like he wanted to jump out the car door and run, and it was only his duty to tell the truth that was keeping him there.
"You told me Lieutenant Welsh introduced you." Ray was pretty proud of how calmly that came out.
"Well, yes, that's true, in the limited sense." Ray just about managed to keep from twitching from nerves. Ben took a deep breath. "You remember me mentioning my good friend Ray. Ray Vecchio."
"You mean your ex-partner? Frannie's brother?"
"Yes. And that after he was shot, he left the police force?"
"Yeah."
"I didn't tell you that Ray bought a business afterwards. Casa di Amore."
"Casa di Amore, what's that? Sounds like some kind of a whorehouse."
"Oh, no, Ray, I assure you it's quite legitimate. It's a matchmaking business."
"Matchmaking?" Ben nodded at him. "Like, Fiddler on the Roof, matchmaking?" Ben nodded again. "A cop? Turned into a matchmaker?" Ben nodded a third time.
Huh. Ray popped a toothpick in his mouth and chewed. "Okay, so what's that have to do with Stella?"
"Well ... StellahiredRaytofindyouamatchsoyou'dleaveheralone."
Ray went into shock. He tossed the toothpick at the windshield and turned. "What?" he gritted out.
Ben swallowed visibly and repeated, "Stella hired Ray to find you a match so you'd leave her alone."
Ray's vision whited out.
"... Ray. Ray. Ray." Ben was shaking his shoulder.
Ray felt cold tendrils of ... He shook Ben's hand off his shoulder and tried to raise some defenses. "So, what, Ben? You been hanging out with me to keep me off of Stella's back?" He gripped the steering wheel, afraid to look.
"Oh, God, no Ray!" Ben sounded so honestly horrified, Ray felt the fear draining away. "I enjoyed your company from the moment we met. I couldn't possibly have spent time with you if I didn't. I couldn't have fallen in love with you, and I have, Ray. I just ... I was never comfortable with keeping the truth from you, and I should have told you of the circumstances long ago. It was an unconscionable breach—"
Thank God. Thank God, he and Ben were okay. But there was still something he had to straighten out.
"Okay, Ben. Okay. Get out of the car." When Ray turned to look, Ben looked crushed. "I'm not angry at you. We're cool. But I am pissed off, and I need some time. Go take the wolf for a run or something, and I'll call you tonight."
Ben reluctantly left the car, and as Ray pulled away, he saw him in the mirror standing on the sidewalk, staring after him, forlorn and pale.
But Ray needed to get some air cleared, and now. By I need some time he'd meant I need to call 411 and get an address.
Ray was irritated before, but when he saw Stella sitting there, through the windows of Casa di Amore ... He knew that dress. That was a date dress. He stormed through the front door and slammed it.
Stella and the guy she was leaning over the desk towards dropped their sandwiches. "Woah, buddy, easy on the glass, there," the guy warned, half rising out of his seat.
"Cozy little lunch date, Stella." Ray's cooped up energy had him dancing his weight from foot to foot.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Ray, meet Ray Kowalski. Ray, Ray Vecchio."
Ray ignored the introduction. "You wanted me out of the way so bad, you went out and paid to have me fixed up with a queer Canadian? So you could go out with this ... this style pig? That's what you did?"
"Hey!" the other guy interrupted, but Ray didn't take his eyes off Stella. "The Canadian wasn't queer until you got ahold of him!"
Ray pointed at him without turning. "Shut up. This is between her and me."
Stella's voice went soft. "I wasn't trying to fix you up with a queer Canadian—I was trying to fix you up with Rachel or Dolley or Abigail or Mary. Constable Fraser was a surprise. I just wanted you to be able to move on and find someone to be happy with, since it wasn't going to be me."
Yeah. Ray knew that. But, "That wasn't your call to make. Me moving on, I mean."
"I know. I'm sorry."
And damn it, she meant it. The apology was real, and he found he didn't have anything left to say.
"So, are you happy?" Stella finally asked. "Really?"
"Yeah. He's a good guy, a really good guy. Well, you met him." Ray realized he was a little nervous. Things were over between him and Stella, and that was okay. But they'd been friends forever, too, and what she thought mattered.
She nodded. "He's good-looking, too, but a little stiff for me."
Ray couldn't help snickering. "I don't know, Stella, you always liked it when I was a little stiff for you."
Vecchio clapped his hands over his ears and wailed, "Ah, God, no! I don't wanna hear anything about that!" and Ray and Stella cracked up.
"How 'bout you, Stell? Are you happy?"
"Yeah, Ray. I am."
"Okay, good." He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead.
"You," he pointed at Vecchio. "You hurt her, and I'll kick your head right off your neck."
"You hurt Benny, and they'll never find your body."
Ray nodded and Vecchio nodded back. They were good.
Now Ray had to get back to the Consulate and make nice with his boyfriend.
Epilogue
For Ben and Ray's first anniversary, the Vecchios gave them an advance copy of Libro di Amore: Love and Romance Italian Style, dedicated to them.
On their second anniversary, they both retired to open their bi-national consulting business—seminars on American police practices, Canadian police practices and suspect pursuit above the Arctic Circle.
Ray spent their third anniversary adding an indoor bathroom to Ben's cabin, a present for both of them, he insisted.
On their ninth anniversary, Ben went down on one knee with a ring. Ray said, "What, are you kidding? Hell yes!"
It wasn't until their tenth anniversary that Ray admitted he hadn't known they were dating until after dinner at his parents. Which wasn't half as much a shock to Ben as Ben's admission was to Ray that he hadn't known until the dancing. But they agreed that it was bound to have happened sooner or later, because they were a perfect match.
For every anniversary, Ben served Tom Yum soup for dinner.