Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, Canadian Ambassador stationed at the US-Canadian Consulate in Chicago, Michigan. Today he was standing guard outside the front door of said consulate. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have to do this anymore, but Constable Turnbull was out sick for the first time in a year, likely due to the frigid temperatures lately, so he decided to take his shift. Besides, this gave him a chance to think.
Now, Fraser was a thinking guy- he always knew the way out of or through any given situation- but lately he hadn’t much time to do so. It was usually work, police station to assist his friend Ray, then home where he would usually sleep with his friend Ray then actually go to sleep, and repeat. Between all of this was caring for the wolf too, so really, he had no time to really think anymore.
Right now was bringing back memories. Memories of a green Riviera pulling up to let out a slim Italian man who tried everything publicly acceptable to get a reaction out of him while he was on duty. Memories of that man driving him home after work. Of fighting crime with that man. Oh he loved Ray. Loved Ray more than almost anything. What they’d had was… special. It had started so suddenly, really, during a card game in Fraser’s apartment. Ray had dropped his cards, so Fraser stooped down to retrieve them for him, and when he came back up, Ray just stared into his eyes. Then they kissed.
Now he was observing yet staying absolutely still as the group of tourists took their picture with him. He didn’t skip a beat as they left, giggling over his picture.
It was awkward for a few months after that first kiss, but then they got used to it. The simple love they felt for each other, the will to do anything to protect each other. It was rarely physical, but sometimes they’d have a moment of intense physical passion and make love in Fraser’s apartment, in Fraser’s bed. During the whole debacle with Victoria the police had come and scoured Fraser’s apartment for fingerprints, and they were both relieved no one had spoken of just how many places Ray’s prints were found. On the bed frame, the window, the table and counter, the chest, the bottle of lube in the chest…
Man with a briefcase at ten o’clock, blue suit, scarf against the chilly breeze but no hat or gloves, probably too concerned with appearance for those.
He was so torn after Ray had left. His Ray replaced like nothing had happened, no one acknowledging his confusion. Then he’d gotten to know the new Ray. He was funny and kind, but not too kind. He made threats to those who threatened Fraser. He had a certain level of seriousness which made up for his somewhat scrawny build when making such threats. Their romantic relationship had begun a lot more physical than with his first Ray. He was in his office, Turnbull outside doing whatever it was he did all day, when Ray had barged in and advanced on Fraser. He’d instinctively stood and backed to the wall, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Ray-”
“Shut up,” and just like that they were kissing, then Ray dropped down and played with Fraser’s belt. He knew his face must have matched his uniform as Ray freed his half-hard cock and looked up at him for approval, the mountie only able to give him a brief nod, well aware of how ridiculous it was. Yes, it had started with Ray giving him a blow job in his own office. After that it’d quickly become a majorly physical thing. Fraser got used to it after about a month, time spent convincing himself that this was not his first Ray, not a dominantly emotion relationship, that this Ray needed physical love in order to thrive.
Woman with a child maybe six or seven at three o’clock sharp, climbing slowly to twelve, then off to nine, both bundled up nicely against the light snow that had started to fall. He shifted his weight minutely to the balls of his feet to help circulation.
Fraser had never done anything particularly kinky, never used anything beside lube and condoms during intecourse- that is, until Ray. The first time Ray had brought his handcuffs into play sent shivers down Fraser’s spine. He’d let him do it, willing to humour him, and then he’d also been blindfolded. He didn’t dislike it in the least, to his surprise. It was a challenge, an intoxicatingly exciting challenge.
Young couple at two o’clock, arm in arm, huddled together against the picking up wind.
Yes, he dearly missed his Ray, his Italian cop full of machismo and fierce protection, but he’d found a place with his new Ray. He’ll never forget Ray Vecchio, and if he had the chance he’d rekindle their fire, but he doesn’t see Ray Kowalski as a replacement, just another person he can love, a person he’s glad will fill the gaping hole left in his chest from the loss of his old friend.
A car pulled up, the passenger side door swinging open. Ray. “Come on Fraser!” his accent was definitely apparent, especially with him talking so loud over the now howling wind. “The consulate called and told me to come get you!” Fraser let the corner of his mouth twitch up a hair, unnoticed by any but perhaps Vecchio if he’d been there. “It’s a Goddamn blizzard, Ben, give it up!”
“Go home, Constable!” came the shout from his superior as she leaned out the window above him. At her word he suddenly broke from his stance and ducked into the car next to Ray.
Without looking away from the road, Ray reached into the back and retrieved a paper bag, tossing it onto Fraser’s lap. He looked inside and saw leather bounds and a gag. They’d sure be keeping warm tonight.