You Gonna Give Me a Hand...?

"...And as for Ray, or should I say Stanley Kowalski, Sgt. Frobisher geared us up with tact and tallow. And led by Diefenbaker, we set off, Ray and I, we set off on an adventure. And when we looked below, he saluted. Sgt. Frobisher saluted. I saluted back. And off we went, to find the Hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea. And if we do find his hand, the reaching out one... we'll let you know...." (from Call of The Wild, Part two)


six months later:

There was a sudden, loud, peremptory knocking on the door of the cabin. Somewhat startled, the single human occupant rose to his feet and crossed the room in two short strides. He opened the door to a nightmarish vision... a tall figure muffled in the most garish snowsuit he'd ever seen. The only thing showing of the wearer of this abomination was a nose of generous proportions. He stared, transfixed.

The muffled figured pushed past him roughly, into the cabin, swinging the door shut behind him. Ben remained where he'd been standing, staring at the now closed wooden door.

"Well? You gonna give me a hand getting out of this stuff?"

A little smile quirked his lips and he raised his fingertips to touch the grainy surface in front of him, as if it could reveal some deep secret to him. It did no such thing, of course. It was just a door after all.

Behind him, inside the cabin, he could hear the rustle of clothing being removed and a familiar voice grumbling. Ben didn't bother unbuttoning his shirt, he simply pulled it, and his undershirt, off over his head, tossing them aside as he turned. One step, and his fingers were busy with the zipper of his jeans. A second step, and he tackled the slender man, still only half out of the snowsuit, and flung them both onto the couch.

Fortunately, the couch didn't collapse under the onslaught. Or perhaps it did, and he simply didn't notice. He captured the mobile mouth with his own and started an investigation of Ray's tonsils.

There was a series of muffled noises, which Ben ignored, and then he was pushed back.

"Hey! Whaddaya think you're doin'?"

Ben slid his jeans down a bit further. "Kissing you, Ray." His voice was rather breathless. He demonstrated the technique again.

"Mmmphhh..." Ray pulled his head away. "Did I ask you to kiss me?"

Ben paused in his exploration of Ray's pants. "I don't believe so, Ray." He shoved them down.

Ray's hands grasped his hips, but seemed undecided whether to pull him closer or push him away. Ben nuzzled the base of his throat and rubbed his groin against Ray's.

"Ya see, Benny, that's the trouble with you. You just assume that I wanna do whatever you wanna do..." The long fingers flattened against his buttocks, pressing him down. "...do ya ever ask? No! Do ya even care if I don't wanna kiss ya?"

Ben considered Ray's complaint for a moment, tilting his head to one side. "At this moment, Ray? Not particularly..." He kissed Ray thoroughly and began rubbing himself back and forth along the length of Ray's cock.

"...well, that's OK, then... oh, God... Benny..."

*

"Ya know, Benny, this place is even worse than your Dad's place. Ya sure know how to pick em."

Ray settled himself more comfortably. They'd moved from the couch to the bed, once they'd managed to convince Dief he should vacate it. The couch was simply too... restricting...

"Thank you kindly, Ray." Ben's fingers hesitated in their teasing of Ray's chest hair. "Ray... if you don't mind me asking..."

Ray scowled. "What am I doing here?"

"Well, yes. I thought..."

Ray interrupted. "What about you Benny? What happened to the Polack?"

Ben blushed. "Well, we had a slight... um, difference of opinion..."

-----------

Their lips were locked together, their lungs almost bursting. It was just like that time they'd been trapped on the Robert Fitzgerald. Finally, Stan was able to break free, gasping. Ben watched him with some concern, his own chest labouring.

"Are you all right?"

Stan glared at him. "Sure I am. Why shouldn't I be?" He broke off, wheezing.

Ben shrugged. "Well, I just thought..."

"I'm fine, OK? Just one thing..."

Ben looked at him enquiringly.

"This buddy breathing thing... why do we need to do it on dry land?"

Ben blushed guiltily.

-----------

Ray laughed.

Ben stared at him indignantly. "It wasn't funny, Ray. He hit me."

"I know." Ray grinned.

"You..." Ben sat up suddenly. "How could you possibly..."

"He told me." Ray pulled Ben back down. "He was really pissed with you."

"You saw him in Chicago, Ray? Is that how you knew where to look for me?"

Ray slid his fingers through Ben's rather long hair. "I like this, Benny..." He demonstrated its usefulness by dragging him closer and kissing him.

Ben obliged happily enough, for a while, until curiosity got the better of him. "Ray, you didn't answer my question."

Ray mumbled something. Ben's head shot up. "What did you say?"

"I said he came to Florida." Ray glared at him.

"Ah. Stella..."

"Yeah. Stella."

-----------

It was a beautiful day. Hot. Warm breeze. Ray took another sip of his Pina Colada, lay back in the lounger beside the pool, and sighed.

"...and did I tell ya that I went jet skiing yesterday with... Oh I did? Last night, huh? ... and again this morning... oh..." Ray gritted his teeth. "OK, well did I tell who I saw at the nightclub last night, Ma? No, not Sly... that was the night before... let me tell ya... oh... yeah, that's who it was. I told ya this morning? Both times I called this morning? Oh... I thought I'd forgotten..."

"Vecchio?! Get in here!"

Ray sat up. "Ma, I gotta go... Stella wants me..."

-----------

"Vecchio? Stella calls you by your surname? Isn't that rather... um..." Ben hesitated at Ray's glowering look.

"She said she couldn't stand the thought of both her husbands being called Ray. Too confusing."

"Ah. Understood." Ben avoided Ray's eyes.

-----------

He hadn't expected to find Stella's first husband in Florida. He'd heard Kowalski had gone up north with Benny. The pair of them eyed him sternly and Ray felt suddenly very exposed in nothing more than a bright silk shirt and a pair of speedos. He surreptitiously pulled the fronts of his shirt together.

-----------

"Speedos, Ray?"

"Yeah, for swimming. You know."

"I know." A pair of fingers walked themselves across his bare belly. "What colour were they Ray?" Ben's voice was suddenly husky. "Did you bring them with you?"

"Why the hell would I bring them here? Like, I'm gonna go swimming in the Arctic?"

Ben's breath was hot on his skin. "I wasn't thinking of swimming, exactly, Ray..."

"They're black... mmm... Benny... ohhHHhhh..."

*

It was a while before they felt like talking again. Ray disentangled his legs from Ben's and stretched, yawning. Ben was watching him, a satisfied smile on his face.

"So, where were we, Ray?"

Ray scowled. "You really wanna know?"

"Oh, yes, Ray." Demure smile.

"Well, he'd told her about the buddy breathing thing." Ray frowned. "Ya know, I still don't know how you thought you could get away with that. He's not that stupid."

Ben didn't bother to respond.

"Anyway, he kinda put two and two together... and he kinda figured out that we..." A horrible thought occurred to him. "Did you do that on purpose? To make him go away? Make him come to Florida?"

Ben simply looked innocent. It wasn't very reassuring.

-----------

It was another beautiful day. One of many. Life was perfect. Ray sipped another Pina Colada and contemplated perfection. He'd signed the divorce papers today. Maybe he should call Ma and tell her... No... he'd already called her twice today and it was still morning. She'd started asking him if something was wrong. As if anything could be wrong in this perfect place. Ray ground his teeth.

He was half asleep when the pool boy came in. A college kid, working through the summer. Cute too... dark hair, fair skin... Ray watched him bending over and straightening, bending over again... He sighed. The kid straightened and turned. Blue eyes, little dimples beside his mouth when he smiled... just like... Damn! Ray sat up suddenly.

-----------

"Me, Ray? He reminded you of me?" Ben was absurdly pleased.

Ray glared. "Did I say that, Benny? Huh? Did I?"

Ben pouted slightly. "No."

"Well, don't go putting words in my mouth, OK?"

"But did he?"

Ray didn't answer in words.

*

Ben finished hammering the last nail into place. It would hold the shutters over the winter. He looked around the cabin with no regret. Dief was sitting expectantly by the door.

"Can't wait to get back to the jelly donuts, I suppose."

Dief growled his agreement.

It had proved ridiculously easy for him to get his old job back at the Consulate. Meg Thatcher had simply not processed his resignation papers. Nor, it seemed, had Lt Welsh processed Ray's. It seemed like nobody had really believed they could stay away from everything that was important to them... their jobs, Chicago, Ray's family... each other.

Ben shouldered his pack. "I really hope Ray was able to buy that Riv. If he has to drive a car from the motor pool." He shuddered slightly at the memory...

Well, no use dwelling on it. It was time to go. Ray was waiting for him in Chicago. Just as he always had been...

the end

*

what happened to the actors...

Callum Keith Rennie, having demonstrated his reluctance to remain in a TV show, immediately started work on a series of movies, which catapulted him to stardom. After receiving an Oscar nomination, he was touted as 'the Canadian Brad Pitt', and seemed destined for a great career. Unfortunately, his career was cut short when he was found, naked, in a sleazy hotel room, having died from inhaling Hydrogen Peroxide fumes while touching up his roots, complicated by his having gone into shock after getting a bad haircut from his stylist. After his untimely death he became a cult icon.

Paul Gross, sadly, was unable to shake off the 'Mountie' typecasting and was reduced to appearing in Coca-Cola ads on TV. After several years, in despair, he went into therapy, where he discovered that he suffered from a rare disorder which arrests development in that part of the brain where the sense of humour is located, causing the sufferer to retain the sense of humour of an adolescent boy, indefinitely. Eventually, he was cured of this illness, but decided to give up acting altogether. He retired to his ranch where he developed a breed of deaf, lip-reading horses who thought they were wolves, much to the consternation of the local chicken population. His entire breeding stock had to be destroyed after a series of suspicious chicken coop break-ins.

David Marciano, initially went on to better things, taking a starring role in The Last Don III where he reprised his role as Giorgio Clericuzio, head of a Mafia Family, and protector of his nephew's daughter, Rosa, who at the tender age of fourteen became The Family's youngest, and most efficient, Hit-Person. This TV movie was marginally successful, so another sequel was made. Rosa made the mistake of getting herself pregnant (well, she had a little help...) to a member of a Rival Family. Giorgio, revitalised by the memories of previous indiscretions, allowed her to marry the young man, then beat him to death with his Zimmer Frame on the wedding night. Resisting all efforts to entice him into making TLD V (the padding they made him wear to make him look more like Marlon Brando had given him a hernia), he left the acting profession altogether, taking up a long held ambition to restore classic American cars. Sadly this business went bankrupt when he couldn't bring himself to sell any of the cars.