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Ray should have known better. Seriously, he knew from personal experience that when things seemed to be going too well, when life looked like it wanted to work in his favor, that meant the last thing he should do was trust that feeling, relax his guard, or assume anything he tried to do would go according to plan.
But it had been so long since he’d caught a break that he’d forgotten. Or maybe he’d thought being someone else meant Murphy’s Law wouldn’t recognize its best buddy Ray Kowalski. Whichever it was, it hadn’t worked. Of course, it could be that Ray Vecchio had the same kind of close personal relationship with bad luck. Or maybe it was Fraser, crazy trouble magnet that he was. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, sticky, soggy and miserable, Ray nodded to himself.
This was all Fraser’s fault.
***Four hours earlier***
“That is it!” Ray grinned as he closed the folder in front of him and moved it to the pile on the edge of his desk. “Last report to finish, correct or revise. Stick a fork in me, I am D-O-N-E doneski.” He leaned back in his chair to check the time on the clock on the bullpen wall, his grin upgrading to a full-fledged smile. “And before five o’clock!” He started to fistpump, nearly knocking over the chair in the process, but he was too happy to care. “I am the man!” he concluded as he caught himself.
“Whatever, Vecchio,” grumbled Dewey from his desk, where he sat hunched over his own pile of paperwork.
Ray got up and started toward the break room. “Aw, Dewey, don’t be jealous. I’m sure you’ll be done before midnight.” He stopped in the doorway and added, “Not like you have anywhere to go anyhow.”
“Look who’s talking,” Dewey shot back.
“Ah, but unlike you I have friends,” Ray replied easily. Okay, one friend and his crazy half-wolf, but Dief totally counted. The amount of off time Ray and Fraser had been spending together definitely meant solid friendship in Ray’s book. And maybe it was just his imagination, but things seemed to be inching toward something more than just friendly lately. Tonight, Ray thought, might be a good time to put that to the test. Or at least move things along a couple more inches.
Ray snatched up the newspaper and took it back to his desk. He flipped through it until he got to the movie section, then snagged his phone and dialed as he scanned the page.
“Good afternoon, Canadian Consulate,” Turnbull answered.
It wasn’t who Ray wanted to talk to, but his good mood could not be shaken. “Turnbull buddy! How’s it hanging? Any cooking breakthroughs recently?”
“Detective Vecch – that is, Ray,” Turnbull corrected before Ray could. “I haven’t hung anything lately, but I have found the most intriguing recipe. I’m planning on trying it tonight.”
Which meant the Ice Queen was either gone or about to be. She only gave Turnbull permission to use the Consulate kitchen when she wasn’t going to be around. That was doubly good news – no Thatcher meant no last minute projects for Fraser, and Turnbull cooking meant he’d definitely appreciate an excuse to get out of there.
“Well, good luck with that,” Ray cut in before Turnbull could go into a detailed explanation of whatever food group he was going to abuse. “So, is Fraser around?”
Turnbull didn’t seem upset by the interruption. “Constable Fraser is in his office, using the Inspector’s absence and lack of need to liaise to catch up on paperwork, I believe.”
“It’s a paperwork kind of day,” Ray replied. “Patch me through, will you? And seriously – good luck tonight.”
Ray didn’t give Fraser a chance to do more than say hello before he broke in. “Hey, you gonna be out from under your mountain of reports any time soon?”
Ray could hear the smile in Fraser’s voice as he answered. “From your cheery tone, I take it you’ve found the peak of yours.”
“I did indeed. Climbed it, planted TNT and brought the whole thing down.”
“And you’ve called to gloat? Or perhaps offer your assistance here?”
“No and hell no. I called because I am now free to leave my place of work, and I deserve a reward for getting all that crap done.”
“Ah. Well, I’m flattered you find calling me rewarding.”
Ray snorted in amusement. “I was thinking more like going to the movies, dork. Which is no fun alone, so you’re coming along.”
Ray could practically hear Fraser arch an eyebrow. “I see. Do I get any say in this?”
“You do not. Though if you’re nice to me I might let you help pick what we see.”
“Really?” Surprise laced Fraser’s tone. “I seem to recall you saying I was never allowed in the history of ever, if I remember correctly, to ever pick a film again.”
“Not without some expert guidance, no.”
“The last film I chose was excellent,” Fraser insisted.
Ray rolled his eyes. “It was depressing. And had subtitles. I am in a good mood here, and do not want it ruined by a film that makes me want to kill myself in two languages.”
“Understood, Ray.”
“Okay, then.” Ray peered at the newspaper. “We have the newest Bond film, weird aliens, funny aliens or Marky Mark in a movie about porn that isn’t even X-rated.”
“Is Titanic still playing?” Fraser asked.
“The boat sinks, and people die. I have no interest in seeing that happen for three hours.” He heard what sounded suspiciously like a chuckle on the other end of the line, and shook his head. Of course Fraser had been yanking his chain on that one. Ignoring it, he went on. “I’m thinking aliens. Stop trying to get me to go to stupid movies and you get to choose between funny and weird.”
“How very generous of you,” Fraser replied dryly.
Ray grinned. “What can I say – I’m a giver. So, which one? If you pick weird we can hit that diner you like first. The theater’s pretty close.”
“Marge’s?”
“If that’s the one that has the homemade bread that’s to die for, then yes.”
“It sounds as if you’ve already decided where we’re going.”
Ray had, but wasn’t about to admit it. “Just trying to help you make an informed decision.”
“Weird it is, then.”
“Great! I’ll be at the Consulate in…” Ray mentally calculated the time and traffic, “45 minutes or so.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Duh.” Ray was about to hang up when he thought of something. “Hey, ditch the serge. I don’t want to hear about you worrying about getting butter on it like last time.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Fraser replied, and Ray just shook his head and said goodbye.
Ray whistled as he took his keys from his desk drawer, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and made his way to his car. So far so good. Dinner and a movie was innocent enough to be a friend thing, but could become more date-like depending on how the evening went. Either way it meant free time with Fraser, and that was never a bad thing.
*******
Fraser was already outside when Ray pulled up to the Consulate, his serge traded out for jeans, a cream-colored Henley, brown leather jacket and, of course, his Stetson. It was a good look for him; Ray took a second to appreciate the view, and resolved to keep to his plan. Fraser smiled as he approached the car, waving to keep Ray from getting out to meet him.
“You hiding something in the Consulate?” Ray asked as Fraser quickly sat down and buckled himself in.
“It’s more of a rescue attempt, one which you’ll thwart if you stay here much longer.” Fraser looked back at the Consulate door, the expression on his face speaking volumes. “Turnbull is looking for volunteers to try his newest creation.”
“More like victims,” Ray said with a shudder as he pulled away from the curb. “I thought Canadians were too polite for torture.”
“Turnbull is a special case.”
“You can say that again,” Ray laughed. “Thanks for the save. As a reward, popcorn’s on me.” He glanced back at the Consulate. “Dief gonna be okay in there?”
“Diefenbaker has also chosen to remove himself from Turnbull’s reach,” Fraser replied. “He’s with Ante tonight.”
“Ooh, date night for the half-wolf. He’ll be all smug tomorrow.” Ray considered that for a moment. “Better than sick, I guess.”
“Definitely,” Fraser agreed. “But there’s also the possibility that he’ll be inconsolable, if she spurns his advances.”
Ray laughed again. “Playing hard to get. Smart dog. So we should get him something to go, just in case, yeah?”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Ray,” Fraser smiled. “He does love Marge’s pot roast.”
“Because he has excellent taste in food. That pot roast melts in your mouth. And now I know what I’m having, no menu required.”
They chatted easily as Ray drove, catching up on the events, or lack of them, of the day. He was shocked to find a parking space near the diner, and they made their way to a table in the back as they kept talking.
“I’m telling you, Fraser,” Ray said as he slid into the booth, “you should defect to America just for the paperwork. It’s as boring as yours, but at least we don’t have to fill things out in triplicate.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Fraser replied, his serious tone belied by the twinkle in his eyes. “Though my Canadian citizenship has come in handy more than once, if you recall.”
“Yeah, I think I remember that,” Ray replied, knocking his foot against Fraser. Fraser knocked back; the move made Ray warm and happy. He grabbed a sugar packet and started playing with it to keep from doing anything stupid.
******
“So what exactly are we watching tonight?” Fraser asked after their food arrived.
“Fifth Element. It got okay reviews, I think. And it’s got Bruce Willis, so it’s probably decent.”
“And don’t forget the weird aliens.”
Well, yeah,” Ray nodded, reaching over to steal one of Fraser’s fries. “Definitely good if it’s got aliens.”
Fraser gave Ray a mock-stern look. “You know that you could have ordered your own.”
“Yours are better,” Ray said matter-of-factly as he reached for another. Fraser just shook his head, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he let Ray get away with it.
******
There was barely a line when they got to the box office. Ray wasn’t surprised; the theater was one of the older ones in town and its smaller size and older sound system meant it didn’t get as much business, even on a Friday night. But it had, in Ray’s opinion, the best popcorn in the city and the seats, while old and a little threadbare, were still pretty comfortable.
After buying their tickets, Ray and Fraser made their way to the concession stand.
“Order whatever you want,” Ray said. “It’s on me tonight.”
“You should have offered to pay for the movie instead,” Fraser replied, casting a disapproving look at the listing of prices. “It would have cost you less.”
“Are you implying you want to be thought of as a cheap date?” Ray teased.
Fraser’s cheeks pinked at that. “Perhaps we should share the popcorn,” he said instead of answering. “It’s more economical, and there are free refills on the larger buckets.”
And chances to accidentally on purpose grab for a handful at the same time, Ray thought, inwardly sighing at the thought of actually trying such a high school kind of move. But lately when he was around Fraser it was like he was pulling double undercover duty. Not only did he have to maintain the Vecchio cover, but he had to pretend to be a full-grown man, instead of the gawky, awkward teenager he felt like around his friend.
Ray realized he’d been quiet too long, and nodded. “Sounds good to me. Large bucket, extra butter, and two large Cokes. And add on a box of those,” he told the bored-looking kid behind the counter.
“Milk Duds, Ray?” Fraser asked, eyebrow raised.
“Yeah,” Ray grinned brightly as he paid for their food. “Suck the chocolate off them and they make great caramel popcorn.”
“I’ll take your word for that,” Fraser replied.
“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, Benton buddy,” Ray said as he stuck the box of candy in his jacket pocket along with a wad of napkins before grabbing the popcorn tub. Fraser got their drinks, and they made their way around the corner to where the movie was playing.
******
Okay, so Bruce Willis aside, Ray had called it when he’d described the movie as weird. He liked it well enough, but had his suspicions that whoever wrote it was taking the good drugs, because really, this was some out there stuff. He had no doubt Fraser would have a lot to say about it, though. Every time he’d snuck a glance, Fraser was engrossed in the film, which was good and bad. Good, because it gave Ray more chances to Fraser-watch without being caught, and bad because those not-really-accidental simultaneous popcorn grabs were having no impact. Well, not on Fraser at least. The first time Ray had felt honest-to-God flutters in his stomach before he worked up the nerve. It had been worth it – the contact of their fingers brushing had sent a spark straight up Ray’s arm. Fraser hadn’t reacted, other than to shift his hand so they both had room to grab some popcorn, and Ray had been encouraged enough to try it several more times. But the only result was that Ray had ended up eating a ton of the stuff.
Ray rooted around the tub, but only came up with a couple of half-popped pieces. He was debating which he wanted more – popcorn, or to see the movie – when the empty container was plucked from his grasp.
“I’ll get us a refill,” Fraser whispered, leaning close enough that if Ray had turned their lips would meet. Considering they were the only ones in the theater, it was a lot closer than Fraser had to be – there was no one there to disturb. It had to be deliberate, didn’t it? Before he could work up the nerve to test his hopeful theory, Fraser was up and gone. Ray slouched back in his seat and rolled his eyes at his cowardice. “Still got time,” he reminded himself quietly, half-watching the film and half-plotting his next move.
A few minutes later Ray realized Fraser hadn’t returned. He frowned; even if there’d been a line, Fraser should have been back by now. He decided to give Fraser a little longer, fidgeting in his seat as he waited. Finally unable to stay still another second, he got up and made his way to the exit.
Ray opened the door slowly to give his eyes time to adjust, stopping still when he heard Fraser’s voice. The words were unclear, but the pacifying tone was unmistakable. There was trouble, and Fraser was in the middle of it. Ray waited, tense, to see if he’d been noticed, but it looked like he’d stopped himself before anyone had seen him. He risked pushing the door open a tiny bit more and strained to hear what was being said.
Still too far away to hear what was going on, Ray decided to risk leaving the darkened theater. He made it to the far wall without incident, then edged his way toward the concession stand as quickly and quietly as he could. He swore under his breath when he got close enough to realize it was a robbery in progress and that the perp was definitely armed.
Ray took a quick peek around the corner and bit off a curse. Fraser was at the concession stand, hands raised, calmly trying to talk to the man with a gun pointed at him out of robbing the place. The kid working the counter was there too, looking about five seconds away from a heart attack, even with Fraser keeping himself between the kid and the gun.
The perp was turned mostly away from Ray, which Ray was pretty sure was a deliberate move on Fraser’s part. That was good; it gave Ray a chance to get the drop on the guy, or at least a second or two of surprise.
Ray looked again, wishing he had some way of signaling Fraser he was there. He had to be satisfied with the fact that if nothing else, Fraser knew Ray was nearby, and would likely come looking for him. That should mean he’d be ready whenever Ray made his move.
Ray took a deep breath and readied himself, repeating that last fact over and over in his head. Fraser would be ready.
Schooling his features to appear totally ignorant of what he was about to walk into, Ray turned the corner. While he was sure Fraser saw him first, it was the kid who reacted, eyes wide as he shook his head, like he could signal Ray without anyone noticing. The perp took his eyes off Fraser to see what had the kid riled up, and that’s all it took.
Fraser took full advantage of the distraction, smoothly jumping over the counter. But instead of ducking behind it, Ray watched as Fraser grabbed a tub of popcorn and threw it at the punk with the gun. He flung his arms in front of his face and Ray took advantage of the instinctive, but stupid, move to tackle him to the ground. The perp landed hard on his back, the force of the impact knocking the gun from his hand.
But while he may have been down, the guy wasn’t out. He shoved up at Ray and they both scrabbled for the gun, managing to knock it away in the scuffle. Ray shoved the guy farther from the gun, but it was a struggle. The perp was bigger and definitely stronger than Ray.
“Fraser! A little help here!” he managed before getting knocked into the concession stand hard enough to jostle it, sending a bucket-sized drink tumbling down onto them both.
***Back to the present***
Ray leaned forward, bracing himself on the sink in front of the mirror. He was a mess. He shifted back a bit and closed his eyes, dropping his head with a deep sigh. Fucking Murphy and his fucking laws. The sound of the door opening startled him, and he gripped the sink tighter as he looked up to see Fraser’s perfectly clean, perfectly dry, not a hair out of place reflection.
“The police have taken the would-be thief into custody and are taking him to their precinct, Ray,” Fraser told him. “They said they’d call on Monday if they needed clarifications on our statements.”
“Good. At least that’s one thing out of my hair.” Ray huffed a humorless laugh at the unintended pun and walked over to the far wall to grab a handful of paper towels from the dispenser. He dropped them into a relatively dry sink, then turned on the hot water in another. It was, of course, ice cold, so he let it run, hoping it would warm up. Given the way things were going, he doubted he’d get that lucky.
“Here, you have,” Fraser started, and Ray nearly jumped. He hadn’t noticed Fraser moving up behind him. He stood still, watching in the mirror as Fraser reached up to pull popcorn from Ray’s hair, careful not to tug too hard. Once he had the piece, Fraser tried to throw it away but it must’ve been pretty sticky; it took a good shake to dislodge it from his fingers.
Ray felt around the back of his head and found a few more pieces; he removed them with a sigh, then gestured for Fraser to stand well back and shook himself like a wet dog. More popcorn and drops of soda flew off him, scattering the area with debris.
“How is this my life?” he wondered aloud, glaring at Fraser as he gave up on waiting for anything more than lukewarm water and started rinsing off as best he could. “I am stickier than the floor of this place, and probably have as much crap on me as it does. I have soda in places it should never be, and I’m gonna need more paper towels than this dispenser has to keep it off the seat of the Goat.” He leaned in to let the water run over his forearms. “I am a walking disaster, Fraser. And yet somehow you avoided the whole mess, despite being in the middle of it.” He caught Fraser’s eye in the mirror; the man looked embarrassed. “Not buddies, keeping a trick like that from me.”
Fraser moved to hand him some paper towels. “I am sorry, Ray. But you have to admit, it stopped the robbery without any injuries.”
“Unless you count the damage to my pride, and my boots.” He crouched down to wipe at them with a damp paper towel. “Which I totally do. I love these boots.”
Fraser rubbed an eyebrow. “Well, yes, apart from those.”
Ray sighed heavily as he stood back up. “You did good, Fraser. Ignore all that stuff I just said.” He tossed the sodden wad of paper toward the trash can. It missed the mark, but Ray didn’t even care. He pulled at the hem of his shirt, trying to decide if it was worth trying to rinse out here or wait until he was home. “Just, pretty crappy way to end the day is all.”
“I’m sure the employees here don’t think that,” Fraser said, putting a hand on Ray’s shoulder. The touch got Ray’s attention in a way Fraser’s words hadn’t, and he lifted his head to meet Fraser’s gaze. “I don’t think it either,” Fraser said, and Ray could hear the sincerity in his voice.
“Careful, Fraser,” Ray joked weakly when Fraser kept his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Keep that there too long and you’ll be stuck to me.”
Fraser tilted his head, considering, and Ray wondered what he saw, because instead of letting go, he smiled and moved closer.
“That’s an interesting theory, Ray,” he said, voice warm and smooth. “Perhaps we should test it out.” He slid his hand up, letting his fingers tangle in the short hairs at the back of Ray’s neck. His eyes never left Ray’s as he leaned in, using the slightest bit of pressure to urge Ray forward to meet him.
Ray didn’t need more of a signal than that. He closed the distance between them, stopping with his mouth the barest inch from Fraser’s. “You sure about this?” he heard himself say, and wanted to kick himself in the head for asking.
“Ray,” Fraser chuckled. “I’m willing to kiss you in a men’s room of a movie theater while you’re covered in popcorn, soda and whatever else stuck to you when you rolled around on what is likely a highly unsanitary floor. How can you not think I want this?”
“Well, when you put it that way -” Ray started, but whatever else he was going to say was lost when Fraser’s lips met his in a first kiss that was much less chaste that Ray would have expected. But he definitely wasn’t going to complain.
At least, he hadn’t planned on complaining, but when Fraser tried to shift his grip, his fingers were stuck to Ray’s hair. Fraser ended up giving them a tug sharp enough that Ray yelped, his reaction a mix of pain and surprise. Fraser immediately started to apologize as he gently removed his fingers from Ray’s hair.
He was sincerely upset, so the last thing Ray should have done was laugh in his face, but he couldn’t help himself. The whole thing was just so ridiculous. Fortunately, after a few seconds Fraser joined in instead of being offended.
“Guess getting stuck wasn’t as much fun in practice as in theory, huh?” Ray chuckled.
“Unfortunately, no,” Fraser agreed. “But it started out quite well. Perhaps…”
“Perhaps?” Ray prompted, eyebrow quirked.
“If you’re clean enough to leave, we should get you back to your apartment. You can’t be comfortable.”
“Yeah, a shower sounds good, I guess,” Ray reluctantly admitted. He’d much rather kiss Fraser again, but didn’t want to push his luck. “You want I should drop you off at the Consulate on the way?”
“You could, I suppose,” Fraser said. “Unless you think you’ll have difficulty removing all of that soda and popcorn and whatever else you rolled around in.” His tone was all innocence. Anyone else would have bought that he was just offering to help but Ray, to his delight, knew better.
Ray fought a grin. “Might be nice to have some help. Really buddy-type thing to offer there, Fraser.”
Fraser’s eyes twinkled with humor and a hint of something darker that hit Ray in the gut. Or possibly somewhere a little lower. “Buddy isn’t quite what I was thinking,” he told Ray.
Ray smiled and reeled Fraser in for a long wet kiss, as filthy as he could make it with the limited amount of contact he was allowing between them. “I like the way you think, Benton Fraser. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
Fraser pulled Ray to him for one more kiss, then nodded, and the two started toward the car, walking close enough to brush shoulders.
Maybe, Ray thought as they left the theater, Murphy’s Law wasn’t that bad a thing after all.