Spilt Milk

by silvina

Disclaimer: Standard Disclaimer. Do you have the plot bunny inside? Please send comments, questions, compliments, and otters to sdelcul@yahoo.com.

Author's Notes: I apologize for the list overload, but please bear with me (feel free to send angry emails and fling inanimate objects) until I catch up. Keep in mind that internet is a two hour bus ride away at the moment and I have to boil my water before it's safe to drink. Gotta love rural Ecuador!

Story Notes:


In the cold light of morning it was heartbreakingly clear that he'd ruined everything. The silence was always loudest when he was alone, and now it was only broken by the deep, still-sleeping breathing of the man lying next to him. It had been days since he'd slept, preferring to read or wander around Chicago. Nothing touched him now.

Yesterday, Frank Zuko had come to the Consulate to see him. He hadn't asked when Turnbull said there was someone to see him, simply nodded to let them in. It had been months, almost two years, since they're last meeting, but his first instinct was to check the exit. Zuko was alone, and he'd put his hands up to show he didn't want trouble.

"May I close the door?"

"What do you want?" he challenged, not wanting the door closed but not being able to give a reason why

"I wish to discuss a mutual acquiantance."

He did not have to guess who Zuko was referring to, and his blood froze. "Not here." Zuko nodded. "Come to my apartment, tonight. 8 o'clock."

Frank Zuko nodded again, and left. Fraser dropped his head into his hands and tried to calm himself. This did not mean that Ray was dead. Not Ray, too.


Diefenbaker did not approve of letting Zuko inside the apartment, and his angry presence made Ben feel more comfortable, even knowing that it was mostly psychological comfort. Zuko could still hurt him with whatever he had to say about Ray, but nothing more. If Zuko had hurt Ray, had put him in more danger, well, he might not be so responsible for what he did then.

"What do you want?"

"I know where Ray is."

He wished desperately that he could ask, but he had to maintain his decorum and Ray's cover. "Of course. Detective Vecchio is at work."

"Not that blond idiot pretending to be Ray. I know about Ray. Your Ray."

His tone of voice, combined with the few things Ray had told him about Frankie Zuko as a young man suddenly clicked. "You still care for him."

Zuko paled, but nodded. "As do you."

He ignored that as irrelevant. "Why now?"

"Tell your people to be careful with him. Kowalski," it did not surprise him that Zuko would know this Ray's real name, "is not a good actor. I can't say anything else."

He nodded, accepting that Zuko was bound by his own rules.

"You couldn't convince him not to do it?"

He laughed. He'd only ever been able to manipulate Ray into doing what Ray had already decided to do.

Zuko laughed too, having been on the receiving end of Ray's stubborness, apparantly. "No, I guess not. Did he ever tell you how we met?"

Fraser shook his head, curious despite himself, and listened with surprise as Zuko reminisced.

"We were best friends, you know?" He understood that Zuko was talking more to himself than anyone. "Until I messed it up. And now he's yours."

"Was," he found himself answering. "Until I messed it up, too." He blinked to prevent tears from falling, and was surprised to feel Zuko's hand cover his in an attempt to comfort.

"He's easy to love, our Ray. Even when I hated him, I still loved him."

He met Zuko's eyes quickly, and just as quickly looked away.

"God, I hope he's being careful."

Zuko stood up to leave, and of its own volition his hand reached out to stop him. "Wait."

Zuko looked startled, and Fraser felt startled as he looked into Zuko's eyes. He could see that love for Ray Vecchio, so like his own, and so hard to get rid of, and maybe that's why he kissed Zuko. Or maybe it was fear; fear for Ray, fear he'd never be able to stop loving him, but like Zuko had lost him forever, but Zuko returned the kiss.

At some point Diefenbaker left, surely disgusted with him. But how could he explain that right now, this was as close to Ray as he could be? He couldn't have this with Ray, might never have this with Ray, and he was weak.

Zuko tugged him to the bed, and he didn't resist, laying down on top of him. They both worked at undoing buttons, zippers, and other assorted fasteners until there was only skin and a million miles separating them.

Zuko came first, having years of pent up Ray anguish, and then he handed Fraser the lube. He'd known exactly what to do, totally ignoring the fact that Zuko hadn't handed him a condom as well.

He thrust; hard, and deep, and fast, losing himself in the feel and rhythm of this. When they both came again, screaming Ray's name, they pulled apart and fell asleep quickly.

Now it was morning, and, even realizing that he had betrayed Ray, he couldn't fully regret his actions. He had needed that moment of catharsis, the chance to be with Ray, even if it was only pretend. He looked at Zuko, lying next to him and he couldn't take it back.

Zuko stirred, and he dressed quickly. At the door he was unable to stop himself from turning back just once. Zuko shivered, and reflexively he tucked the sheet in around him.

"Ray?" Zuko muttered, and it nearly broke him. He'd heard his own voice say that name with the same sense of loneliness and desperation just last night.

He brushed a kiss to Zuko's forehead, and walked out. This time, he didn't look back.


End Spilt Milk by silvina: sdelcul@yahoo.com

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