TEAM REALITY: Day 3, "The Best Thing To Say"
Title: The Best Thing To Say
Author: wihluta
Team: Reality
Prompt: This is the third time I tried to tell her -- she won't listen!
Pairing(s): Fraser/Kowalski
Length: 2,600
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my two fantastic betas j_s_cavalcante and sisterofdream. Without them this wouldn't have been half the story it's now.
Summary: Finding out is sometimes not as hard as it seems.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Genre information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
When Ray realized he was in love with Fraser, he was a little freaked out for about 5 months. Actually, it was exactly 156 days before he finally decided to hell with it, this was the 20th century, and he'd always suspected that he swung both ways. Having proof of it didn't change who he was. The problem was that telling Fraser was much harder than admitting it to himself. So it took him another 83 days and Lady Shoes to find the nerve to talk to Fraser.
On a Saturday evening, when they both had the day off, Ray invited Fraser over to his apartment. It was the end of November, and the city was cold and wet, and the snow on the sidewalks looked gray and dirty. There was a hockey game on tonight, Blackhawks vs Leafs, which was as good a reason as any to get Fraser out of the Consulate.
Ray spent most of the day trying to cook something that was both edible and looked nice, but all he managed in the end was overcooked pasta and a lumpy brown sauce. So he threw it all out and ordered Chinese. The good stuff, not the cheap takeout they usually had.
Fraser arrived punctually at 7 pm, for once not wearing his uniform. Ray liked Fraser in civvies. It made him look more human. Without his uniform, Fraser was just another guy. A guy Ray had the hots for. He could deal with that.
He tried not to fidget too much as he took Fraser's jacket, told him to make himself comfortable, and got them something to drink. Fraser was a sharp guy; he'd notice if Ray was acting nervous, and then he'd be wary.
Ray didn't want Fraser to be wary, he wanted Fraser to be comfortable.
He managed through dinner and halfway through the game. But it was only a matter of time before Fraser caught on.
"Ray, are you all right?"
"Huh?" Ray stalled. "I'm great, what makes you think I'm not?"
Fraser scratched his eyebrow. "Well, you seem preoccupied. If you'd prefer to be alone, you just need to tell me. I could-"
"I'm good, Fraser. And I don't want to be alone. I invited you here, remember?"
"Yes, Ray, but you could have changed your mind."
"I haven't. I'm just..." Ray broke off and turned around so he was facing Fraser instead of the TV. It was a good thing the sofa was big enough for two. Or maybe it wasn't. Ray raked a hand through his hair.
"Yes, Ray?"
Ray took a deep breath and tried again. This was harder than it should be. Everything he could think of sounded wrong. I like you-too wishy-washy. I love you-way too frank, even if true. I got the hots for you-just not something you said to a guy like Fraser.
Maybe he should've written it down beforehand.
And now Fraser was looking at him with that carefully concealed "I'm worried about something, but don't know how to address the issue" expression he always got when he had to deal with stuff he was unsure about. Ray took another deep breath and then decided. There was only one way to do this.
He leaned forward and kissed Fraser right on the mouth.
Fraser had known he was attracted to Ray since the day Ray asked him if he thought he was attractive. He wasn't so sure when exactly it was that he fell in love with Ray, but the realization that he was-in love, that is-dawned on him after he and Ray managed to get out of the Henry Allen in the middle of the lake they call Michigan. But even so, he would never have done anything about it if Ray hadn't kissed him first.
The first time Ray kissed Fraser, it snowed.
They were sitting in Ray's apartment, and flakes of snow drifted in through the open window. Fraser could smell the snow, falling from the sky outside and melting on the window ledge, the smell of winter. But the delightful scent of Ray was stronger.
Ray was sitting next to Fraser on the sofa, staring at him. He looked confused and almost pained, and Fraser didn't know what to do to help Ray say what he wanted to say. Because, as much as Fraser hoped he knew what Ray was trying to voice, he was also terrified that maybe he'd perceived Ray's intentions wrongly. That his own feelings were clouding his judgment.
It wouldn't have been the first time.
But then Ray didn't speak at all. Instead he suddenly moved forward, surprising Fraser, too fast for Fraser to move away. Their lips met.
It was only a short, chaste kiss, and Ray pulled away quickly.
Fraser had closed his eyes, and he didn't move for a few seconds. Then he realized that Ray wasn't there any more, and he opened his eyes. He looked at Ray.
"Fraser?" It was only a whisper.
"Yes, Ray."
"You all right?"
"Yes, Ray."
"You freaking out?" Ray shifted nervously.
"No, Ray."
"You sure?"
"Positive." There was a short pause. "Would you mind if I..."
"What?"
"Returned the-ah..."
"Oh, yeah. Please."
And then they kissed again. It was stiff and awkward at first, but then Ray opened his mouth, and his tongue touched Fraser's lips, and from that moment on, there was no going back. And neither of them wanted to.
When an anonymous complaint was left at the station, mentioning a queer guy and a red-clothed weirdo getting too close to each other in a parked car, Welsh called Ray and Fraser into his office to have a word.
"I received a complaint about the indecent behavior of two men in a parked car, and the description bears an uncanny similarity to the way I'd describe you, if I were asked to do so."
Fraser's face turned bright red, and Ray bit his lip. Welsh wasn't sure if he was suppressing a grin or not, but he didn't really care either way.
"Detective Kowalski, Constable Fraser, I don't care what you do when you're at home in your own..." he waved a hand, "whatever. But as long as you're at work, you will behave like professionals. Is that clear?" Welsh leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
"Very clear, sir," Fraser stood at attention.
"Clear as ice," Kowalski said, still half-leaning against the back of a chair.
"I'm glad we cleared that up. Now, do we have any news about that dead kid behind that bar-what was it called?"
"The bar or the kid, sir?" Ray asked.
"The bar. And the kid."
"The bar is called Dirty Joe's. The victim hasn't been identified yet." Fraser promptly replied.
"So what are you waiting for? Get me an ID."
"Understood, sir."
"On our way, Lieu."
When Ray returned to the 2-7 after his adventure in the cold, wide north, people clapped him on the back and welcomed him home. When Fraser showed up at the 2-7 that same afternoon in his familiar red uniform and shining boots, some heads turned twice and some eyebrows went up. But people clapped him on the shoulder as well and welcomed him back.
There were some comments exchanged near the coffee machine, some snide remarks whispered in the men's room, but generally no one really cared that much.
"What do you think, why's the Mountie back?" Moe, Dewey's replacement, asked Larry, Huey's replacement.
"Either the Canadians didn't want him back after all, or he's developed a sudden interest in back alleys and a certain blond-haired detective." Larry shrugged.
"So you think they're..."
Larry shrugged again. "I don't care. As long as they solve cases, I don't give a damn what they do in their free time."
"Me, neither," Harry said.
When Frannie found out, after a shared dinner at the Vecchio house, she smacked Ray on the head and glared at Fraser.
"You two just kissed on my front porch."
Ray rubbed his head. "So? That doesn't give you any right to use violence. It's still legal to kiss a guy in this city."
Fraser just looked uncomfortable.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Frannie demanded.
"Ahm...Francesca-"
"I wasted a good two years mooning after you, Frase. If you'd told me, I'd have..." she drifted off.
"You'd have what, Frannie? Burned down my apartment?" Ray asked.
"No, dumbass. I'd have wished you all the best and, you know, looked for someone else. You know I almost got married once?"
"Ah, yes. I remember." Fraser scratched his eyebrow.
"Yeah, he was this Czech guy-"
"I think he was German," Ray corrected her. "The weird thing was how much he looked like-"
"-German, Czech, Polish, Romanian-who cares? I could have married him, but I decided to-ah, never mind." She waved her hands.
"I'm very sorry, Francesca. I know it wasn't right of us to keep you uninformed, but I really didn't know how to tell you."
"Yeah," Ray chimed in. "You can be pretty scary when it comes to these things."
"Oh come on, it's not like I would've bitten your head off." She scowled at Ray. Then she turned to Fraser. "It's okay, Frase. I understand." She patted Fraser's chest. "And anyway, it all turned out well in the end." She placed a hand on her rounded belly.
"Glad to hear that, Frannie." Ray scowled back at her. "Mind if we go home now? There's this really cool thing I wanna try with Fraser-"
"Ray!"
"What?"
Frannie waved her hands, making shooing noises. "I don't want to know. Go, go, already."
"I don't think Francesca is very interested in English Waltz, Ray."
Ray shrugged. "Her loss. But you're gonna learn the Reverse Turn tonight."
"I'm certainly going to give it my best try," Fraser said.
They were at the gate when Frannie shouted after them, "And by the way, I'm really happy for you."
She never told anyone about the tears she shed that night. Only that one night and never again afterwards. She really was happy for them.
Fraser told Ray Vecchio on the phone one evening in April. He'd been keeping in touch with his former partner regularly after he moved to Florida with Stella, and Fraser didn't feel it was right to tell Ray about the trivia of everyday life without sharing this major development in his life.
"So, Benny, why'd you go back to Chicago? I thought after all the hero stuff with Muldoon, Canada would offer to take you back. Maybe even promote you."
"Actually, they did." Fraser caught himself scratching his eyebrow. "They offered me command of a detachment near Inuvik, but I chose to stay in Chicago. At least for a little while."
"But why?"
"Well, there were a number of factors in my decision, but to be entirely forthcoming, the one that tipped the scales, so to speak, was that Ray asked me to come back."
"You mean Kowalski?"
"Yes."
There was a pause. Eventually Fraser took a deep breath, and said, "I've been meaning to tell you, Ray. Ray and I are partners."
"Benny, I know you are. We were partners, too, remember?"
"No, Ray, that's not what I meant. I meant-"
Ray interrupted him, "Don't tell me, Benny."
"But, Ray-"
"No, seriously. I don't want to know." Ray's voice sounded distant. "Look, Benny, I gotta go. I'll talk to you again next week, okay?"
"Very well, Ray," he said, forcing himself to sound cheerful, even though he didn't feel like it.
Five days later, Fraser received a card.
Dear Benny,
Sorry I acted like an ass last time we talked.
As long as you're happy, then everything's good. I'll learn to deal with it, okay? Don't let anyone talk you out of doing what makes you happy. Least of all me.
Ray
P.S. Tell Stanley he better treat you well or I'll come up there and make him regret ever being born.
Ray put off telling his parents for as long as he could. But at some point there was no way around it.
"Why don't we go up to your cabin this Christmas?"
"Good evening to you, too, Ray," Fraser said, closing the door behind him.
"Hiya, Ben. What do you say? You, me, Canada, in three weeks?" Ray was pacing in circles on the living room floor.
"Ray, why don't you simply tell your parents that you would prefer it if they didn't come for a visit. Although I personally don't see-"
"Fraser, have you met my mother? This is the third time I tried to tell her-she won't listen. She's got it in her head that she hasn't seen me in far too long, so they're coming up here to Chicago. The only option left is to flee north."
"Or you could simply tell her about us," Fraser pointed out calmly.
"How many times do I have to say this, Fraser? I'll tell her when I'm ready." Ray emphasized the point with his index finger and pinkie.
"Have you considered the possibility that she might already know?"
"What? How could she?"
Fraser put the kettle on the stove before he turned to Ray. "Well, logically it is possible. I told Ray, and, knowing him, I'm quite sure he would have told Stella, and since she and your mother are still good friends, it might have come up."
Ray groaned and slumped down onto the sofa. "There's no way I'm getting out of this, is there?"
"I'm afraid not."
In the end, Ray's parents picked the most inopportune moment to show up on Ray's doorstep and thus made it very easy for Ray to tell them. He didn't even have to find any words. When Barbara and Damian used their spare key to enter the apartment, the first thing they saw was Ray, half-naked, pressing Fraser-equally (un)dressed-back against the refrigerator, kissing him for all he was worth.
It saved a couple thousand words of explanation.
On the fourth anniversary of their first kiss, Ray asked Fraser to marry him. Fraser said yes. They drew up a guest list, which wasn't very long, but contained all the names of their close friends and family.
"You know, Ben," Ray said, going down the list of names, "sometimes I can't believe how lucky we are. You ever think about that? It's almost magical."
Fraser looked up from his book. "Don't be silly, Ray. There's nothing magical about good friends. But I do agree that we have been exceptionally lucky. I remember my grandmother telling me that a man can see best who he is by taking a good look at his friends. And-"
"Fraser."
"Yes, Ray?"
Just before he opened his mouth to speak, it occurred to Ray that telling his brand-new fiancé to shut up wasn't the best way to start a marriage.
So he leaned forward and kissed Fraser on the mouth, long and slow and sweet.
And you know what? It was still the best thing to say.
END
**
Now you've finished reading, please take a moment to vote on this story in our poll here.
Poll Vote for this story
Author: wihluta
Team: Reality
Prompt: This is the third time I tried to tell her -- she won't listen!
Pairing(s): Fraser/Kowalski
Length: 2,600
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my two fantastic betas j_s_cavalcante and sisterofdream. Without them this wouldn't have been half the story it's now.
Summary: Finding out is sometimes not as hard as it seems.
Once you've read the story, please take a moment to vote in the poll below. Ratings go from 1 (low) to 9 (high), so all you need to do is enter a single number in that range into each text entry box. You'll be able to see the Genre information in the header above.
More details about the voting procedure can be found here.
**
When Ray realized he was in love with Fraser, he was a little freaked out for about 5 months. Actually, it was exactly 156 days before he finally decided to hell with it, this was the 20th century, and he'd always suspected that he swung both ways. Having proof of it didn't change who he was. The problem was that telling Fraser was much harder than admitting it to himself. So it took him another 83 days and Lady Shoes to find the nerve to talk to Fraser.
On a Saturday evening, when they both had the day off, Ray invited Fraser over to his apartment. It was the end of November, and the city was cold and wet, and the snow on the sidewalks looked gray and dirty. There was a hockey game on tonight, Blackhawks vs Leafs, which was as good a reason as any to get Fraser out of the Consulate.
Ray spent most of the day trying to cook something that was both edible and looked nice, but all he managed in the end was overcooked pasta and a lumpy brown sauce. So he threw it all out and ordered Chinese. The good stuff, not the cheap takeout they usually had.
Fraser arrived punctually at 7 pm, for once not wearing his uniform. Ray liked Fraser in civvies. It made him look more human. Without his uniform, Fraser was just another guy. A guy Ray had the hots for. He could deal with that.
He tried not to fidget too much as he took Fraser's jacket, told him to make himself comfortable, and got them something to drink. Fraser was a sharp guy; he'd notice if Ray was acting nervous, and then he'd be wary.
Ray didn't want Fraser to be wary, he wanted Fraser to be comfortable.
He managed through dinner and halfway through the game. But it was only a matter of time before Fraser caught on.
"Ray, are you all right?"
"Huh?" Ray stalled. "I'm great, what makes you think I'm not?"
Fraser scratched his eyebrow. "Well, you seem preoccupied. If you'd prefer to be alone, you just need to tell me. I could-"
"I'm good, Fraser. And I don't want to be alone. I invited you here, remember?"
"Yes, Ray, but you could have changed your mind."
"I haven't. I'm just..." Ray broke off and turned around so he was facing Fraser instead of the TV. It was a good thing the sofa was big enough for two. Or maybe it wasn't. Ray raked a hand through his hair.
"Yes, Ray?"
Ray took a deep breath and tried again. This was harder than it should be. Everything he could think of sounded wrong. I like you-too wishy-washy. I love you-way too frank, even if true. I got the hots for you-just not something you said to a guy like Fraser.
Maybe he should've written it down beforehand.
And now Fraser was looking at him with that carefully concealed "I'm worried about something, but don't know how to address the issue" expression he always got when he had to deal with stuff he was unsure about. Ray took another deep breath and then decided. There was only one way to do this.
He leaned forward and kissed Fraser right on the mouth.
Fraser had known he was attracted to Ray since the day Ray asked him if he thought he was attractive. He wasn't so sure when exactly it was that he fell in love with Ray, but the realization that he was-in love, that is-dawned on him after he and Ray managed to get out of the Henry Allen in the middle of the lake they call Michigan. But even so, he would never have done anything about it if Ray hadn't kissed him first.
The first time Ray kissed Fraser, it snowed.
They were sitting in Ray's apartment, and flakes of snow drifted in through the open window. Fraser could smell the snow, falling from the sky outside and melting on the window ledge, the smell of winter. But the delightful scent of Ray was stronger.
Ray was sitting next to Fraser on the sofa, staring at him. He looked confused and almost pained, and Fraser didn't know what to do to help Ray say what he wanted to say. Because, as much as Fraser hoped he knew what Ray was trying to voice, he was also terrified that maybe he'd perceived Ray's intentions wrongly. That his own feelings were clouding his judgment.
It wouldn't have been the first time.
But then Ray didn't speak at all. Instead he suddenly moved forward, surprising Fraser, too fast for Fraser to move away. Their lips met.
It was only a short, chaste kiss, and Ray pulled away quickly.
Fraser had closed his eyes, and he didn't move for a few seconds. Then he realized that Ray wasn't there any more, and he opened his eyes. He looked at Ray.
"Fraser?" It was only a whisper.
"Yes, Ray."
"You all right?"
"Yes, Ray."
"You freaking out?" Ray shifted nervously.
"No, Ray."
"You sure?"
"Positive." There was a short pause. "Would you mind if I..."
"What?"
"Returned the-ah..."
"Oh, yeah. Please."
And then they kissed again. It was stiff and awkward at first, but then Ray opened his mouth, and his tongue touched Fraser's lips, and from that moment on, there was no going back. And neither of them wanted to.
When an anonymous complaint was left at the station, mentioning a queer guy and a red-clothed weirdo getting too close to each other in a parked car, Welsh called Ray and Fraser into his office to have a word.
"I received a complaint about the indecent behavior of two men in a parked car, and the description bears an uncanny similarity to the way I'd describe you, if I were asked to do so."
Fraser's face turned bright red, and Ray bit his lip. Welsh wasn't sure if he was suppressing a grin or not, but he didn't really care either way.
"Detective Kowalski, Constable Fraser, I don't care what you do when you're at home in your own..." he waved a hand, "whatever. But as long as you're at work, you will behave like professionals. Is that clear?" Welsh leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
"Very clear, sir," Fraser stood at attention.
"Clear as ice," Kowalski said, still half-leaning against the back of a chair.
"I'm glad we cleared that up. Now, do we have any news about that dead kid behind that bar-what was it called?"
"The bar or the kid, sir?" Ray asked.
"The bar. And the kid."
"The bar is called Dirty Joe's. The victim hasn't been identified yet." Fraser promptly replied.
"So what are you waiting for? Get me an ID."
"Understood, sir."
"On our way, Lieu."
When Ray returned to the 2-7 after his adventure in the cold, wide north, people clapped him on the back and welcomed him home. When Fraser showed up at the 2-7 that same afternoon in his familiar red uniform and shining boots, some heads turned twice and some eyebrows went up. But people clapped him on the shoulder as well and welcomed him back.
There were some comments exchanged near the coffee machine, some snide remarks whispered in the men's room, but generally no one really cared that much.
"What do you think, why's the Mountie back?" Moe, Dewey's replacement, asked Larry, Huey's replacement.
"Either the Canadians didn't want him back after all, or he's developed a sudden interest in back alleys and a certain blond-haired detective." Larry shrugged.
"So you think they're..."
Larry shrugged again. "I don't care. As long as they solve cases, I don't give a damn what they do in their free time."
"Me, neither," Harry said.
When Frannie found out, after a shared dinner at the Vecchio house, she smacked Ray on the head and glared at Fraser.
"You two just kissed on my front porch."
Ray rubbed his head. "So? That doesn't give you any right to use violence. It's still legal to kiss a guy in this city."
Fraser just looked uncomfortable.
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Frannie demanded.
"Ahm...Francesca-"
"I wasted a good two years mooning after you, Frase. If you'd told me, I'd have..." she drifted off.
"You'd have what, Frannie? Burned down my apartment?" Ray asked.
"No, dumbass. I'd have wished you all the best and, you know, looked for someone else. You know I almost got married once?"
"Ah, yes. I remember." Fraser scratched his eyebrow.
"Yeah, he was this Czech guy-"
"I think he was German," Ray corrected her. "The weird thing was how much he looked like-"
"-German, Czech, Polish, Romanian-who cares? I could have married him, but I decided to-ah, never mind." She waved her hands.
"I'm very sorry, Francesca. I know it wasn't right of us to keep you uninformed, but I really didn't know how to tell you."
"Yeah," Ray chimed in. "You can be pretty scary when it comes to these things."
"Oh come on, it's not like I would've bitten your head off." She scowled at Ray. Then she turned to Fraser. "It's okay, Frase. I understand." She patted Fraser's chest. "And anyway, it all turned out well in the end." She placed a hand on her rounded belly.
"Glad to hear that, Frannie." Ray scowled back at her. "Mind if we go home now? There's this really cool thing I wanna try with Fraser-"
"Ray!"
"What?"
Frannie waved her hands, making shooing noises. "I don't want to know. Go, go, already."
"I don't think Francesca is very interested in English Waltz, Ray."
Ray shrugged. "Her loss. But you're gonna learn the Reverse Turn tonight."
"I'm certainly going to give it my best try," Fraser said.
They were at the gate when Frannie shouted after them, "And by the way, I'm really happy for you."
She never told anyone about the tears she shed that night. Only that one night and never again afterwards. She really was happy for them.
Fraser told Ray Vecchio on the phone one evening in April. He'd been keeping in touch with his former partner regularly after he moved to Florida with Stella, and Fraser didn't feel it was right to tell Ray about the trivia of everyday life without sharing this major development in his life.
"So, Benny, why'd you go back to Chicago? I thought after all the hero stuff with Muldoon, Canada would offer to take you back. Maybe even promote you."
"Actually, they did." Fraser caught himself scratching his eyebrow. "They offered me command of a detachment near Inuvik, but I chose to stay in Chicago. At least for a little while."
"But why?"
"Well, there were a number of factors in my decision, but to be entirely forthcoming, the one that tipped the scales, so to speak, was that Ray asked me to come back."
"You mean Kowalski?"
"Yes."
There was a pause. Eventually Fraser took a deep breath, and said, "I've been meaning to tell you, Ray. Ray and I are partners."
"Benny, I know you are. We were partners, too, remember?"
"No, Ray, that's not what I meant. I meant-"
Ray interrupted him, "Don't tell me, Benny."
"But, Ray-"
"No, seriously. I don't want to know." Ray's voice sounded distant. "Look, Benny, I gotta go. I'll talk to you again next week, okay?"
"Very well, Ray," he said, forcing himself to sound cheerful, even though he didn't feel like it.
Five days later, Fraser received a card.
Dear Benny,
Sorry I acted like an ass last time we talked.
As long as you're happy, then everything's good. I'll learn to deal with it, okay? Don't let anyone talk you out of doing what makes you happy. Least of all me.
Ray
P.S. Tell Stanley he better treat you well or I'll come up there and make him regret ever being born.
Ray put off telling his parents for as long as he could. But at some point there was no way around it.
"Why don't we go up to your cabin this Christmas?"
"Good evening to you, too, Ray," Fraser said, closing the door behind him.
"Hiya, Ben. What do you say? You, me, Canada, in three weeks?" Ray was pacing in circles on the living room floor.
"Ray, why don't you simply tell your parents that you would prefer it if they didn't come for a visit. Although I personally don't see-"
"Fraser, have you met my mother? This is the third time I tried to tell her-she won't listen. She's got it in her head that she hasn't seen me in far too long, so they're coming up here to Chicago. The only option left is to flee north."
"Or you could simply tell her about us," Fraser pointed out calmly.
"How many times do I have to say this, Fraser? I'll tell her when I'm ready." Ray emphasized the point with his index finger and pinkie.
"Have you considered the possibility that she might already know?"
"What? How could she?"
Fraser put the kettle on the stove before he turned to Ray. "Well, logically it is possible. I told Ray, and, knowing him, I'm quite sure he would have told Stella, and since she and your mother are still good friends, it might have come up."
Ray groaned and slumped down onto the sofa. "There's no way I'm getting out of this, is there?"
"I'm afraid not."
In the end, Ray's parents picked the most inopportune moment to show up on Ray's doorstep and thus made it very easy for Ray to tell them. He didn't even have to find any words. When Barbara and Damian used their spare key to enter the apartment, the first thing they saw was Ray, half-naked, pressing Fraser-equally (un)dressed-back against the refrigerator, kissing him for all he was worth.
It saved a couple thousand words of explanation.
On the fourth anniversary of their first kiss, Ray asked Fraser to marry him. Fraser said yes. They drew up a guest list, which wasn't very long, but contained all the names of their close friends and family.
"You know, Ben," Ray said, going down the list of names, "sometimes I can't believe how lucky we are. You ever think about that? It's almost magical."
Fraser looked up from his book. "Don't be silly, Ray. There's nothing magical about good friends. But I do agree that we have been exceptionally lucky. I remember my grandmother telling me that a man can see best who he is by taking a good look at his friends. And-"
"Fraser."
"Yes, Ray?"
Just before he opened his mouth to speak, it occurred to Ray that telling his brand-new fiancé to shut up wasn't the best way to start a marriage.
So he leaned forward and kissed Fraser on the mouth, long and slow and sweet.
And you know what? It was still the best thing to say.
END
**
Now you've finished reading, please take a moment to vote on this story in our poll here.
Poll Vote for this story