Happy Place

Happy Place, first in the "F/K Series"

Rating: PG-13 for language and beer and mentioning sex

Pairing: Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski, but pre-slash

Disclaimer: "due South," with its related characters and themes, belongs to Paul Haggis, Alliance, and others, not to me.

Dedication: This almost-slashfic is for Ewan McGregor. Also for Bone, whose "Smooth" inspired this story.

Wherein Fraser drinks tea, beer, and - - oh, this isn't rated NC-17, never mind.

Livia

He had somewhere to go.

For the majority of Fraser's adult life, when he was in pain, when he was hurting so badly that he couldn't deny it or suppress it, he had nowhere to go. Where could he go? Home? Where was that? When he'd come to Chicago, he'd had no place to call home. Where would he go? Canada - - where in Canada? His cramped apartment? His office? The Vecchio household?

He'd had no one to comfort him. Diefenbaker, yes; Dief was his true friend. But Dief was not human, and at times Fraser had wished for the comfort of someone who could hold him or speak soothingly. Dief had been a wonderful companion, and had meant a great deal to him, but even in hindsight he could force himself to admit Dief's limitations.

Ray Vecchio? Ray had been a good friend to him, his mainstay when he'd come to Chicago, but Ray had had other things to do. Ray's life was about Ray, and Fraser could hardly fault Ray for it.

When he'd been in pain, he'd kept it to himself. He'd dealt with it inside his own mind; and when it couldn't be overpowered, when it threatened to overpower him, he dealt with that, too.

Alone, and wherever he happened to be at the time.

But now he had somewhere to go. And he didn't have to be alone. He could turn to someone. Someone would be there for him, physically and emotionally.

Ray.

The door opened. "Jesus, Fraser, what happened?" Ray was pulling him into the apartment, closing the door, pushing him toward the sofa. "Sit down, come on. You look like you got hit with a stun gun or something." Ray prodded; he sat; Ray sat beside him. "You wanna tell me what's got you showing up here? I thought you had a...oh. Shit. Fraser, what happened? Melissa? Is it Melissa? She's not, Fraser, she's not dead or anything, is she?"

He almost laughed. He didn't laugh, because he would have ended up crying.

"You gotta tell me. I can't help you if you don't tell me. Oh, shut the fuck up." Ray reached for something on the coffee table, and the stereo across the room fell silent. "Come on, Fraser. Did she do something? Did she hurt you? You tell me what happened and I'll go take care of it for you. Nobody hurts Mounties on my turf."

"There's nothing you can do, Ray."

"Shows how much you know. If you're upset, nobody rests until you're happy again. That's how it works around here. C'mere, Frase." Ray was half-sitting and half-kneeling, now, beside him on the sofa, facing him, chest up along his right side and arm, arms around him, hands coming up to his left shoulder and left ear. Ray's cheek was against his hair. "It'll be okay."

He could come to Ray. He trusted Ray. He'd never had anyone he could approach in this fashion, come to solely out of need, solely for solace. He hadn't known what he was missing.

He did not cry.

Ray kept holding him. Murmuring words of comfort, stroking his hair.

How had they developed this friendship? At what point had Ray become his best friend and partner and brother and sounding board and security blanket?

"You need tea," Ray decided softly. "I'll get you tea." Ray pet his hair, kissed the side of his head, and started to leave the sofa. He reached up and grabbed Ray's right arm, keeping Ray in place. Anchored, Ray remained, holding onto him again. "It'll be okay," Ray said. "You'll be okay."

Physical affection. A rarity in his life. Easy with Ray. Easy to accept from Ray.

He accepted so much from Ray, asked for so much from Ray, that sometimes he wondered what Ray got from their relationship. He knew that they were partners, equals, knew that they shared a give-and-take relationship, but at times he wondered what he had to offer Ray's rough, poetic, generous person.

"You'll be okay." Ray's arms tightened, and Ray kissed his hair again. "You'll be okay. Some nice hot tea, a good rest, maybe you can talk about it, get it out of your system. You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to." Ray slid down a little, until Ray's gaze was somewhere about his ear. "Jesus, Fraser. Who's done this to you? Who hurt you like this? Was it Melissa? She did something?"

"I thought that she might...might love me, Ray." He was looking across the room, not at Ray.

"She doesn't?" Ray sounded surprised.

"I thought that we were to meet for dinner this evening. I called on her and...she already had a guest."

"Who?"

"I didn't catch his name."

"A guy. Come on, Fraser, keep going. Help me figure this out."

"She's found someone else, Ray. She prefers him to me. She called off our relationship."

"She broke up with you? Melissa dumped you? Are you kidding me?! Who is this guy and how hard can I hit him?"

"Violence never solved anything, Ray."

"Wouldn't it make you feel better? Just to smack him one? And what's she thinking? She found somebody else? Like she'd ever get with anyone else half as great as you. Somebody whack her with the stupid stick?"

"Ray."

"I'm serious, Fraser. She's psycho. A guy like you comes around once in a million years. You see him, you grab him and you hang on. She's serious about this guy? That's for real?"

"It would seem so."

"Fuck it. I know where she lives. I'll go straighten her out. What's she thinking? It's been, what, seven months? Seven months. Suddenly you're not good enough anymore? Come on, she knows all your dozens of weirdnesses and she still stuck with you for seven months, you gotta figure it's for real. And now all of a sudden - - things were going great, Fraser. I was expecting some serious stuff here. She give you any reasons? Is she just off her meds or is something else going on?" There was a silence. "Okay. You didn't come here for interrogation time. You just sit and I'll get some tea." Ray stroked his hair and left the sofa.

Fraser didn't want to sit there alone. Wanting to follow Ray to the kitchen, he instead went to the bathroom. When he caught sight of himself in the mirror, he froze. There were tear tracks on his face. He had been crying.

He cleaned his face quickly.

When he left the bathroom, he returned to the sofa. A few minutes later, Ray set a mug on the coffee table and sat at his side, curled up comfortably against the sofa arm, long denim-clad legs and naked feet up on the cushion. Ray was drinking hot chocolate, from the smell of it.

They sat in silence. Fraser avoided Ray's eyes. Ray waited.

"Melissa considers me Victorian."

"Victorian. Interesting word to use breaking up with you. Victorian how? All buttoned and starched? You mean she just noticed? Come on, she's known you all this time and she thinks that? Maybe at first meeting, yeah, I mean, you come off that way to some people, at first. But really, I mean, you're not. She's known you long enough to know better. You're petty and sarcastic and pushy and arrogant and it's so easy to get you snarky and riled. I can get you embarrassed, I can get you pissed-off, I can get you silly, Fraser, like that." Ray snapped his fingers. "Hell, I even got you drunk."

"Apparently I'm not sexually aggressive."

"Since when?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You're aggressive in everything else, why not sex? I've seen you sniffing around women before, you know exactly what you want. I don't think you're into whips and chains, but aggressive sounds right up your alley. And I know you two are doing it."

"Were doing it," he corrected; then he heard himself. "Ray, really, that's none-"

"You brought it up."

"I shouldn't have."

"Fraser. She dumped you. You're upset. You're allowed to say why. And you're a grown man, you're allowed to say 'doing it.'"

"You shouldn't be speculating-"

"On what? The fact that you and Melissa are adults, romantically involved, with working body parts? And if they're not working, you know they have pills for that now."

"I won't dignify that with a response."

"Sounds like you just did." Ray's bare toes prodded Fraser's thigh. "So what's the problem? I really can't imagine you being frigid, Fraser. I know you cared about her, I know you wanted her. So what's wrong? I mean, I'm sure you're...good. You're so good at everything else I'm sure you've mastered sex, too. Hey, could we rent a billboard and tell Chicago that there's actually a woman who left your bed dissatisfied? Because I don't think that anyone would believe us."

"Ray."

"Sorry. Shouldn't be joking. I just can't believe anyone would complain about getting to have sex with you. So what's her problem?"

Fraser turned his head. Ray was sitting there, waiting for a reply, eyebrows up slightly, hands wrapped around the warm ceramic of the mug. Ray's hair was in its typical disorder, and there was just as typical golden stubble on Ray's chin. Ray was just...Ray, the same Ray as always. He allowed himself a small sigh and reached for the cooling tea.

He heard Ray take a sip of hot chocolate. "You're not going to tell me you're frigid, and you're not going to tell me you're...inconstant, incontinent...shit...inconsiderate. And apparently you don't think you're impotent. So? You telling me she wanted whips and chains and you said no and that's why she dumped you?"

"Ray, that's entirely inappropriate."

"Okay. That's cool. So you gonna get her back?"

Fraser faced Ray again. "Get her back, Ray?"

"Sure. Sometimes it's over and sometimes it's not. You really think someone who said no to you once would ever say it again?"

"Ray, I..."

"You don't want her back?"

"Not if she doesn't want me."

"Who's to say she doesn't?"

"Melissa, for one."

"She'll regret it."

"Ray, is this...is this the thinking that..." He stopped himself, knowing that he had no right to ask. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Ray spoke first.

"It's okay, Fraser, I know what you're thinking. No, when Stella left me I wasn't doing any thinking at all. You know that. That was just me not knowing how to let go. When I commit, I commit, and I didn't understand that some people aren't like that. To me forever means forever, you know? But that was different. This is you we're talking about. You can have anyone you want, Fraser. She says no, you just go back and try again. She'll say yes."

"She sounded rather firm, Ray."

Ray waved his hand dismissively. "She'll learn."

"Learn what?"

"What a good thing she's got."

Fraser frowned. "You mean me."

Ray laughed, showing all of his teeth, and poked Fraser's thigh with his toes again. "Yeah, Fraser, I mean you." He drank again. "So? You want her back?"

"Very much, Ray. I just don't think that it would be appropriate to press my advances now that she's-"

"Since when do you not go after something you want? When you want something, you're all action and determination, you hunt it down, you get it. You don't just sit there and wait for it to come to you."

"Are you speaking in the sense of the generic you, or about me personally?"

"Did we always have this communication problem?"

"I'm afraid so, Ray."

Ray shrugged and smiled. "Long as it's a tradition, it's okay. Listen. Fraser. If you want her back, you owe it to yourself to take another shot at it."

He met Ray's eyes. "Thank you, Ray."

"Meanwhile, I'm gonna track down this other guy she's seeing and kick him in the head. Or the balls. Or both, whaddya think?"

"Ray, that's entirely-"

"Inappropriate, Fraser, I know. But sort of satisfying."

"It could be that."

"You came straight here from her place?"

"Yes, Ray."

Ray nodded.

"Is there a reason you asked?"

Ray grinned. "Yeah, and no way I'm telling you what it is."

"May I ask why not?"

"That would be telling."

"No it wouldn't."

"It would so."

"No, it wouldn't."

"Okay. I'll be nice to you since you're all broken-hearted. I was just wondering if you were dressed like that when she saw you. 'Cause I didn't see how she could say no to anybody looking like that. But then I remembered, after I asked, that you always look like that, no matter what you're wearing. So I still don't see how she did it."

"I always look like what, Ray?"

Ray grinned. "One of the nicer terms would be edible."

"I see."

"I won't share the other terms."

"I appreciate it."

"Seven months and she still thinks you're Victorian. You think she coulda picked a better word?"

He took a sip of his tea.

"Fraser? You did tell her about Victoria, didn't you?"

He took another sip. "I'm afraid not."

"You didn't?" Ray seemed surprised.

"The point never came up, Ray."

"Oh, she didn't ask you over dinner one night whether you'd ever - - forget it. It didn't come up. Fraser, that's one of the top five highlights in your life history."

"What are the other four?"

"I don't know, but that's one of them. So what'd you say when she asked about the bullet in your back?"

"I told her that I was shot in the line of duty."

"And?"

"And what, Ray?"

"That's it? She didn't want to know why or how or by whom?"

"I believe that I explained that Ray Vecchio shot me in trying to prevent a perpetrator from escape."

"Oh, yeah, that spells out the whole story. Fraser, you know what you're doing. You're keeping things from her. How can you think you're gonna have a good relationship if you don't tell her stuff?" Ray glared into the hot chocolate. "Stupid Mountie." He dug himself further into the cushion, seeming angry. "And what's her problem? I still don't get how she thinks you're Victorian. Even if she doesn't know the big dark stuff from your past, she still knows you. She spends time with you and does stuff with you. Don't you guys ever... The first time she got under your skin she should've noticed how easy you are."

"Easy, Ray?"

"You know. What I said before. How easy you are to...disturb. How you can get pissed off or snippy or silly. I still think that getting you drunk ought to put me in some sort of Hall of Fame. Top ten Mountie corrupters or something. I know you aren't like that with everybody, but you had to've been like that with Melissa." Silence. "Fraser?"

"In hindsight, perhaps I wasn't, Ray."

"Why not?"

"It seems to be difficult for people to see the sides of me that you see."

"Because you don't let them see. You let me in, why can't you let in other people? Fraser, you're in love with Melissa, you're having sex with her, it's been seven whole months, and you're telling me you never let your hair down? Don't look at me like that, Fraser, I know you're just dying to say something about my hair." Ray was sitting up straighter, now, holding out a warning hand.

"I wouldn't dream of commenting on your hair, Ray."

"You'd better not. No, no, Fraser, bite your tongue. Bite your tongue. Don't even say it. Are you biting your tongue?"

"Yes, Ray," he tried to say.

"Good. Now when the urge to insult my grooming behaviors has passed, you can rejoin our conversation. Where were we?" Ray settled in comfortably again. "Yeah, right. I was wondering why Melissa's psycho and why you're living in fear."

"Living in fear, Ray?" Fraser asked, releasing his tongue.

"I was wondering how long you'd last. Since you're always licking something, I knew it wouldn't be long. Yeah, Fraser, living in fear. You're afraid of people getting close, of people seeing who you really are under all those Mountie layers. Me, I figure I got closer than anybody. And I'm not just flattering myself there, either, seeing as you came to see me instead of calling Vecchio or Eric or somebody."

"Well, the phone bills would have been atrocious."

"Ha ha, Fraser. Ha...ha. I think I liked you better tongue-tied. Where was I?"

"Getting close to me."

"You wish. Right, living in fear, Mountie layers. I don't know why I bother having this conversation, since we both know it inside and out and you never change."

"That bothers you."

"I want people to know you like I know you. I don't like keeping it all to myself, makes me feel selfish. Other people should get to enjoy you."

"You make me sound like your favorite toy, Ray."

"Maybe you are. Only other thing I got to play with is myself. Ah, bite your tongue, I'll get some more tea." Ray took their mugs and left the sofa.

Fraser rose and followed. "I fear that I'm too set in my ways to undergo-"

"Yeah, but it's not like that. If you can let me see the real Benton Fraser, why can't you let Melissa? I'm not saying run around baring your soul to everybody, I'm talking about letting the woman you love and want to spend your life with see you when you're relaxed and sarcastic and vulnerable. Can't you be vulnerable with her?" Ray had set the mugs on the counter and was facing him.

"Perhaps not."

"Then maybe she's better off without you. Shit, Fraser, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. You know I didn't mean that." Ray's arms were around him, Ray's chest against his. "I didn't mean that. Nobody's ever better off without you. We're all better with you. I just meant...she deserves someone who'll open up to her. If you try to do it with her and you can't manage it, then maybe she's not the right one for you. You need someone you can open up to, someone you can trust with your other sides." Ray moved back again. "Okay?"

"Yes, Ray. Thank you."

"Yeah, I'm a real big help."

Fraser put his hand on Ray's arm. "You are, Ray. You long have been. I'm especially grateful for that tonight."

"Good. Long as you got somebody who knows you, I guess you're okay." Ray moved away from him, rinsed out the mugs. "You wanna stay?"

"I might be persuaded to stay."

"Oh, now I gotta persuade you. Okay. Fraser, stay."

"Yes, Ray."

"I told you you were easy."

"I thought that you explained that you meant it in another way."

"You're easy in all kinds of ways, Fraser. Including the normal one."

"The normal one?"

"Don't give me the 'dumb Canadian' look, Fraser. You know what I mean."

"You mean sex, Ray."

"Yeah, Fraser, I mean sex."

"I'm easy?"

"Hell, I got you in my bed the first day we met."

"My apartment building had burned down, Ray. I had no other place to go."

"That's what they all say."

"I've had two lovers in my entire life. That hardly makes me easy."

"Twice as many as I've had."

"That's pathetic, Ray."

"Yeah, no kidding." Ray laughed. "Least I got married to mine. You just love them and leave them. Or love them and got shot, but it sounds better the other way."

"So you prefer a pretty lie to an ugly truth?"

"I prefer a pretty truth, but we don't have many of those lying around, you know? So you want some more tea? Or, hey, you wanna get drunk again?"

"No thank you, Ray."

"Fraser, your woman left you for another man. That's drinking time. There's a law in this country. And while you're in this country, you have to follow our laws. And I'm a cop, so I gotta make sure you follow the laws. Come on, have a beer."

"I'd really prefer not to, Ray."

"It's Canadian."

"Is it, now."

"Yep. Imported pure beer for the imported pure Fraser." He pulled two bottles out of the refrigerator.

"You're having one as well?"

"Nope," Ray said, opening them with two quick, graceful flicks of the bottle opener. "They're both for you. I'm having more hot chocolate."

"A grown man turning down beer in favor of hot chocolate?"

"You got a problem with that?"

"Not at all, Ray."

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

A few minutes later, the two of them were on the sofa again. Both were barefoot, now, at Ray's insistence, and Fraser was working on his first beer.

"We should toast to something."

"Is that customary after we've already begun to drink?"

"It's not like the toast's....invalid or something."

"If you say so."

"I do. I say so. What should we drink to? Victoria, Melissa, and Stella?"

"I'd rather not."

"Then what are we drinking to?"

"To you."

"Me? Why me? If we toast to me, I can't drink. You can't drink to your own toast, Fraser."

"Then I'll drink to you by myself. To Ray." Fraser raised his bottle with great solemnity and repeated, "To Ray," before drinking.

"Okay. Good. To me." Ray drank his hot chocolate.

"As you said, you can't drink to your own toast, Ray."

"Too bad. I'm not spitting it up again."

"I appreciate it."

"You should. Why are we drinking to me?"

"There's no one else to drink to."

"Oh. Is that pathetic and sad?"

"Yes."

"Thought so. I could drink to you."

"You could."

"I'm not going to, though. I don't like you. You were mean to my hair."

"I was not mean to your hair."

"You wanted to be."

"I'm quite fond of your hair."

"Really."

"Yes, Ray. I like your hair very much."

"Are you drunk?"

"I've only had one bottle. Let me try some more."

"Okay. Keep working on it. You like my hair?"

"Very much." He drank from the second bottle.

"Okay. Thanks."

"It's much softer than it looks. It looks like it would be stiff but it's not. You have pretty, soft spikes, Ray."

"Kinda like my personality."

Fraser smiled, delighted. "Yes!"

"You're toasted."

"Toasted, Ray? You said that you wouldn't drink to me."

"Drunk, Fraser. You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk."

"Mm."

"Mm? Don't do that. That's my line."

"It's not a line. It's not even a word. It's a sound."

"It's my sound."

"You have the patent on it?"

"Well, no."

"There you go."

"But it's mine. If you don't stop saying it, I'll...kick you in the head."

"Pretty pleased with yourself, aren't you? Proud of that."

"Yes, I am."

Ray smiled. "I'll get you one more bottle. Go slower this time. Nice and slow."

"Why do people drink, Ray?"

"Dulls the pain for a while. Puts you in a happy place."

"Like an endorphin rush."

"Okay, sure."

"Like an orgasm."

"Did you just say 'orgasm' or am I drunk?"

"You can't get drunk from hot chocolate, Ray."

"You stay here. I'll be right back." Ray returned shortly, as promised, and handed him a cold bottle. "That's all you get."

"I like orgasms."

"Most people do, Fraser."

"What did you say? They put me in a happy place. I have a happy place."

"You got a happy place, Fraser?"

"Yes, Ray, I do."

"Where?"

"You."

"That's not a place."

"Wherever you are. Wherever Ray is, there's my happy place."

"Ray me?"

"Ray who else?"

"Ray Vecchio."

"No, no, Ray you. Ray Kowalski. You're my happy place. Come here."

"I'm right here, Fraser."

"No, come here." He reached out and pulled, and Ray came closer. Ray's head came to his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around Ray, resting his cheek against the soft spikes of Ray's hair. "You're my happy place." Ray was solid and warm. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to drink anymore. He didn't need to drink anymore. He already had his happy place.

matthew@matthewtime.com
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