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For Ray, the realization that he'd had not just a kink for Fraser in his red serge uniform, but a kink for Fraser himself, hit him like a metaphorical two-by-four. Fraser had spent a few days away at a conference in Alberta, leaving Ray to his own - quite boring - devices, which had the unfortunate side effect of driving Ray just a bit mad. He'd taken to talking to Diefenbaker like he was Fraser, and carting him around - even going so far as to absentmindedly offering to drive him back to the Consulate after a long day of paperwork. When he realized what he'd done, Ray just shook his head and glanced at his watch, figuring out how many days and hours it would be until Fraser came back.
He should have been hit by the clue bus when, during Fraser's absence, Ray's attention was distracted by any large amount of red that flashed along his sightline, and he found himself adjusting his pants. But alas, as soon as the thought would enter his mind, he would dismiss it, somehow not admitting the connection to himself.
Thursday morning found Ray in quite a good mood. He even got up early, taking Dief for a run before showering and heading into the office. Fraser was supposed to be on a flight back, and would be in the office by Noon at the latest, so Ray treats Dief to a special breakfast, "Yeah, don't tell Fraser I fed you waffles. Deal?" and heads into the office, ready for his friend to get back.
It was a few minutes past eleven when the familiar sound of Fraser's Strathcona boots echoed their way off the precinct walls, causing Ray's face to light up in a smile. "Frase!" he says, standing up.
"Well, it appears that someone is happy to see me," Fraser replies, then adds a quick, "Hello, Ray."
Ray is quickly taken aback, glancing down at his crotch wondering to himself, "I don't think I have a boner," when he catches Fraser kneeling down, a very excited Diefenbaker, tail sweeping the floor as the wolf makes a whuffling sound before leaning in to be scratched.
"I can see someone's been well fed while I was gone," Fraser says as he strokes the wolf's muzzle. And with one eyebrow lifted skyward, he considers the situation. "Imitation maple syrup, Dief?" Fraser tsks. "You might as well have had a jelly donut."
"Yeah, he had that, too," Ray admits.
"You indulge him too much, Ray," Fraser says, then reaches out and grasps Ray's arm, which instantly sends a jolt of electricity through him. "But I thank you for looking after him." Fraser's eyes hold nothing back, and Ray has to steady himself lest a lusty chill run down his back.
Ray nods his head, and now he really has to put his hands over the front of his pants. But before he can ask how Fraser's trip was, Welsh slides out of his office and belts, "Vecchio! Just been a shooting up at Marquette Park. You're up." And with a nod, he adds, "Welcome back, Constable. You should go with - keep him out of trouble."
"Yes, Lieutenant," Fraser replies, and reaches back, touching Ray on the arm again. "Shall we?" he asks, and there's a glint in his eyes.
"Yeah, okay," Ray says, finding his throat dry. "Dief?" he says, stomping his foot to get the wolf's attention.
"Stay," Fraser directs Diefenbaker's attention. When Ray gives him a curious look, Fraser adds with the wryest of smirks, "I don't think he'll be much good to us with a stomach full of waffles, Ray." So the two head out of the station. And when Ray lags a step or two behind, realizing just how amazing Fraser's ass looks in his jodhpurs, that's the second eye opening event of the morning.
The park shooting had left one body, but as soon as Ray and Fraser began investigating, more shots begin to ring out, sending everyone flying. Ray pulls Fraser down, but when there is the shortest break in the staccato beat of the bullets, Fraser stands up - which is met with even more bullets. Sighing, Ray makes his move; he honestly has no choice but to side tackle his partner, coming to rest on Fraser's back.
"Fraser, you dumb dumb," Ray chides. "You could have been shot."
"I was merely assessing the situation," Fraser replies.
The bullets continue, as does Ray's splayed-out covering of Fraser. There's break or two, though Ray doesn't move. Fraser does, however, and the effect of the rough material of Fraser's muscular backside covered jodhpurs against Ray's nether regions becomes quite pronounced. And if Ray wasn't currently both happy and terrified by the situation, he might have made the decision to slide off.
As he tries to control his breathing, Ray finally notices Fraser's, "Ray. Ray. Ray," coming from underneath him.
"Fraser, what?" Ray asks. And why exactly did his voice squeak?
"Well, Ray. If you're going to continue to lay on top of me, would you at least pull your gun from your waistband?"
Without thinking, Ray gestures with his quite-full right hand. "Fraser, there are bad guys shooting at us. My gun's in my hand." And then when Ray realizes it - realizes he's fully hard and pressed against Fraser's backside, his face goes white, and he slides off of his partner.
"Then what is poking-" Fraser starts, but he turns over and must see the ghastly look on Ray's face. "Oh, well," he says, patting Ray on the knee. "That's... Interesting."
"Yeah, I gotta go-" is all Ray can manage, standing up, so of course that's then the bullets start up again. And this time it's Fraser who pins down Ray, and by the feel of things, that bodily confession seems to go both ways, as Ray feels a hardness against his thigh. Looking up into Fraser's eyes, there's something there that he's seen before - a fondness. But beyond that, there's the raw emotion of want, of need.
The pair are frozen like that, finally coming out of it when the sound of gunfire finally ceases, and there's an "all clear" that's called by one of the squad cars nearby. And before he knows it, Fraser is gently prying his body off of Ray's, leaning down and taking Ray's hand into his to help him up. But the pair don't let go; instead, Ray holds on for far too long, gazing into Fraser's eyes until he again sees that want - that need. He hikes his thumb up to the vague general direction of his car and mumbles, "Yeah, I uhh-"
"Yes, we should," Fraser says with a nod. And with that, he quickly walks up to Ray, passes him, and then reaches back and pulls Ray towards the waiting vehicle.
After three tortuous hours back at the 2-7, where every nerve in Ray's body feels like it was on fire every time Fraser touched him, leaned over him to grab something off his desk, or whispered into Ray's ear, Ray decided to call it a day. But instead of announcing it, he just grabbed his jacket, then took a chance and grabbed a handful of Fraser's red serge, and dragged him out of the precinct. Not a word was spoken until Ray had Fraser in his apartment, trembling fingers exploring, and panting Fraser's name when he finally came.
~*~*~
Fraser was quite happy with the way things turned out after coming back from Alberta. He had been silently yearning for his partner, but because of Ray's past, chose to take the friendship he knew he had, and not jeopardize it searching for anything more. But Ray's sudden bout of handsyness after a shootout had the unintended consequences of bringing them together, and suddenly Fraser's late-night fantasies were being fulfilled on a regular basis by a sweaty, panting Ray.
But there was something about it that Fraser couldn't quite figure out. Ray was a passionate man, that was a given. But there were days when Ray's attention was focused almost as much on Fraser's clothes as his person. And Fraser slowly realized that it was days he wore his uniform; specifically the red serge. It was a working hypothesis, and one that he intended on putting to the test.
Strolling into the 2-7 one morning after opening the Consulate, Fraser walks up to Ray's desk, smiling, "Good morning, Ray," when he gets close enough.
"Hey Frase-" Ray says, but glances up with a confused look on his face. "Umm," he says, voice a bit unsure. "Where's the suit?"
Pulling the garment bag from over his shoulder, Fraser presents it, saying, "I was running a bit late this morning, so I thought I would change into it. Here." Fraser then cocks his head to the side ever so gently, giving Ray a hint of a smile.
It's as if Ray freezes, and the only sound coming from him is a loud gulping noise. Fraser is just about to make sure Ray hasn't gone catatonic when he finally speaks. "Oh, umm. Yeah there, Fraser. You do that," and Fraser watches as Ray's eyes dart between him and the seldom-used locker room. "And hurry up; we gotta case."
"You know, Ray," Fraser says as he begins making his way to the locker room, "if we're in a hurry, then you can come in with me. Debrief me, as it were." And with a quick smile, dimples and all, he heads to the secluded locker room to get changed.
~*~*~
Fraser's trying to kill him, he just knows it. First with the changing into the lusty uniform of doom in the station, and then with the suggestion of being debriefed, when Fraser knows the difference between a briefing and a debriefing. It takes Ray all of six seconds to figure out what Fraser is up to, and he's out of his chair like a shot.
Unfortunately for Ray, he just about falls out of his chair getting up. But a muttered, "I'm okay. I'm okay!" dismisses the looks that are shot at him from around the office, and he bids a hasty retreat to where Fraser is.
Walking into the locker room, and putting a chair in front of the door - not to lock it, but to give him some warning - Ray turns the corner and finds Fraser standing in front of a locker, sneakers and shirt off, with a great expanse of creamy white flesh sitting in front of him. It was enough to make his mouth run dry. But somehow he finds his voice and manages to creak out, "You did that on purpose, Fraser," though there's no heat to his voice.
"Whatever do you mean, Ray?" Fraser asks with mischief glinting from his eyes. And with one smooth motion, Fraser unfastens the buttons of his blue jeans, and lets them puddle at his feet.
"Debrief?" Ray says, coming closer. "I'm onto you, Fraser," he whispers, coming to stand a hair's breadth away - so close that he can feel the heat coming off of his partner. "If we weren't in the station right now..."
With an innocent smile, Fraser steps out of his jeans, not bothering to pick them up, but rather kicks them to the side before turning around. Standing there, dressed only in his socks and a starched pair of white boxers, Fraser grabs his jacket. He doesn't care that the wool is scratchy against his skin, but rather the affect it's definitely having on Ray. Pulling it over his broad shoulders, Fraser manages his voice to just above a whisper when he asks, "Do you think this color suits me, Ray?"
The instant press of flesh against against Fraser's is the only answer Ray gives.