A love like theirs (Badfic challenge on ds-flashfiction)
Pairings: Vecchio/Welsh; Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: R
Size: about 7000 words
Summary: Victoria is a witch and she comes back and finds Fraser having sex with RayK!!! And she turns them both into kids!!! And RayV has to find out how to change them back!!! Is Frannie a better babysitter than Turnbull? What do Thatcher and Stella think? Why are Ray's parents at the station? And who exactly picked Welsh to explain the birds and the bees? (Eventual Fraser/RayK pairing!!!)
Note: the summary was written by sherriaisling
Warnings: Child pornography (very, very, very soft core, and with full mutual consent)
***
I thought it would be easy; just follow the prompt, you know. I had a nice crazy one, that asked me to address four specific questions. I started by answering them.
1. Is Frannie a better babysitter than Turnbull? The both of them are still having heated discussions about this one on a regular basis. They always make up afterwards though. By making out. (Francesca is mother of sixteen instead of six now.)
2. What do Thatcher and Stella think? They think they like each other. Very much.
3. Why are Ray's parents at the station? Ray’s parents are at the station to collect their son and to have a second chance at raising him - in a more desirable direction this time. Stella prevents this from happening. (Yay, Stella!)
4. And who exactly picked Welsh to explain the birds and the bees? Vecchio did. However, he was the one who came up with the lube allowance.
Writing a story along these lines would result in badfic, right? Wrong. I wrote a blatant romfic! And the crazy thing is, I have never ever written romfic before. I usually write tough, macho, action-adventure stories (Due South is the perfect fandom for that, I think). I don’t know what happened. Maybe I was bewitched. Anyway, I apologize, especially to Sherriaisling.
A love like theirs
"I would like to know why nearly every man that approaches greatness tends to homosexuality, whether he admits it or not" - D.H. Lawrence.
***
“Vecchio! In my office. Now!”
Something in Welsh’s tone made Ray look up. It wasn’t that Harding didn’t sound authoritarian. The man was so used to giving orders, he wouldn’t be able to not sound domineering. There was something else in his voice though. Confusion. And worry.
Ray left his desk. His old/new desk. The desk he abandoned more than two years ago and had returned to last month. Confusion was the right word to describe his emotions too. Confusion, and sadness, and anger.
Oh, goddammit, Stella.
“What’s wrong, sir?” he asked, closing the door.
“Telephone call. From Fraser.” Welsh picked up the receiver and handed it to Ray. “Be nice to him. He’s just a kid.”
One fleeting second Ray thought it was a prank. But the lieutenant looked anything but a prankster right now.
“Ray Vecchio,” he said cautiously.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Vecchio. This is Benton Fraser speaking,” a boy replied on the other end of the line. “Lieutenant Welsh asked me to talk to you directly. My call seems to have confused him a great deal, I’m afraid.”
The boy couldn’t be older than twelve, Ray assessed.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“We’re in Canada, in Inuvik, the North West Territories, sir. Mr. Baker was kind enough to let us make a long distance call from the post office. We found the telephone number in Ray’s luggage. We didn’t realize that it belonged to a police station in Chicago.”
“Ray?” Ray said. “Ray Kowalski? Is he with you?”
“Yes, he is, sir. He …” The voice on the other end suddenly started to tremble, and Ray realized that he was indeed talking to a twelve year old boy instead of the forty-ish Mountie Benton Fraser had been when they last spoke. The boy’s vocabulary bore an uncanny resemblance to the Mountie’s.
“Is he all right?”
“I’m … I’m not sure, sir.” The boy was on the verge of tears now. “He isn’t hurt, but he isn’t used to the climate, and I can’t seem to keep him warm, no matter how hard I try.”
The voice, filled with self-blame, stopped and then resumed, “He’s very scared. He wants to go home.”
“Chicago is home to him?”
“Yes, sir. He thinks it is where he lives.”
“And what do you think, Benton?” (The boy didn’t sound like Benny, and you just didn’t call a kid by his last name, Ray thought.)
“I’ve never been to Chicago, sir, but I go where Ray goes.”
Ah. The voice was the epitome of unwavering. Whatever mystery had happened in Canada, it hadn’t changed a thing about the strong Kowalski-Fraser bond - that much was clear.
Ray looked at Welsh, who nodded. Then he said, “All right, Benton, stay put and tell St- tell Ray to hang in there just a little while longer. I’ll come and get you.”
***
Mr. Baker had taken good care of the boys; he’d let them camp near the post office and made sure they ate well. The food, the sleep and the warmth seemed to have done wonders, especially for Stanley.
Seeing the boys was a weird experience. Ray had no difficulty recognizing them; one blond, one dark-haired; one skinny, one broader; one bouncy, one quiet. But they were kids. It was strange to be confronted with such a clear, lively image of the youngsters they had been before. Only ‘before’ didn’t apply anymore. They were boys now. Very pretty, twelve year old boys.
It wouldn’t take more than a few months before Benton would be a serious heartthrob, Ray assessed. Then he noticed that - good god - the boy was already precisely that to Stanley.
And vise versa.
Caribou in heat, he thought. He had never actually seen caribou in heat, but the comparison seemed fitting under the circumstances. And they were only twelve, for god’s sakes.
He cleared his throat. “Right, may I have your attention, guys? Do you know who I am?”
“We know your name, sir,” Benton said. “But we have never seen you before.”
“So you don’t remember me. Okay.” Ray nodded. “Is there anything you do remember from before you made the call to Chicago?”
“The woman,” Stanley put in.
“What woman?”
“She was very beautiful,” Benton said slowly. “She had long, dark, curly hair, and-”
“And very cold eyes,” Stanley snapped. (Ah, Ray thought, I’m currently watching one hell of a possessive lover.)
“Did she say her name?”
“No.” Stanley shook his head. “She laughed and she said we were cute, but she didn’t sound like she meant it. She sounded evil.”
Ray turned to Benton. “Does the name Victoria Metcalf mean anything to you?”
The boy furrowed his brow, searching his memory. “No, sir, it doesn’t. I’m very sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ray muttered. “Where were you when the woman appeared?”
They had been out camping on an ice field, Benton stated a little hesitantly.
“She was very angry,” Stanley declared. “With Ben.” He sounded surprised as well as miffed that anyone would have the nerve to be angry with his precious Ben. “She said that he didn’t deserve to be happy if he chose to live without her.”
“And I’d never even seen her before,” Benton said in amazement.
“She took our dogs,” Stanley continued. “So we had to walk all by ourselves to the nearest town.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I nearly froze to death three times, didn’t I Ben?”
Turning a couple of shades paler, Benton nodded. “Yes, Ray, you did.”
“But you saved me!” Triumphant look. Proud voice.
Ray got the message loud and clear. Seated next to him was Stanley’s boyfriend Benton Fraser, superhero.
“All right, guys,” he said, “I think it’s time we paid a little visit to someone who knows a thing or two about magic and witchcraft and stuff.”
“Cool,” Stanley said, and his voice dropped to confidentiality level when he added, “you know, my hunches tell me that that woman we met might have been a witch.”
Ray squeezed the boy’s boney shoulder and thought, Kid, you’re going to make a damn fine detective some day.
***
Finding Quinn wasn’t easy, but when they did, the man didn’t seem surprised by their visit. It did surprise Ray that Benton recognized his former (or not so former) Inuit guide and mentor immediately.
“Quinn!”
“Hello, Ben. How are you?”
“I’m fine. This is…”
“Your friend Ray Kowalski.”
“Yes, and this is…”
“Detective Vecchio, with whom I’d like to have a word.”
The boys got off into the woods, and Quinn took Ray’s arm. “This seems witchcraft to me,” he said. “By a woman scorned, most likely.”
Ray nodded. “My thoughts exactly. Have you any idea what can be done about it?”
“That depends on what recollection they have of their adult lives,” Quinn said. “If they have memories, the spell can be broken. If not, well, then they are just two twelve year old boys like any other, who will become adults over time.”
“That’s horrible!”
“Is it?” Quinn wondered. “Let me talk to them first.”
He called the boys and spoke to them separately. Then he shared his conclusions with Ray.
“Neither of them seems to remember anything before the spell was cast. Perhaps confrontation with familiar things and people in Chicago will trigger memories, but I wouldn’t be too sure about it.”
“I’ll try,” Ray said fervently, “I’ll try anything.”
“Don’t try too hard,” Quinn warned. “Look at them.”
Ray did. The boys’ romping session had evolved into a make out session. Stanley was lying on top. Benton’s hands were cupping his face and holding it at the right angle. They were kissing-with the kind of focus that told Ray they were completely zoned out to the rest of the world.
“That’s love,” Quinn nodded. “They’re happy. To live three extra decades won’t be hardship for them.”
“It won’t last,” Ray said.
“You sound cynical,” Quinn stated.
“Yeah, well, you’re talking to a man whose second divorce is about to become official.”
“Ah. I see. Well, as they say, love can be found in unexpected places.” Quinn looked at him-knowingly, Ray thought. “It’s going to be all right, Ray, trust me,” he said quietly. “Good luck.”
***
The boys were impressed with Chicago. Benton grew very quiet, while Stanley loudly voiced his enthusiasm.
“Do you recognize anything?” Ray asked the boy.
“Yeah. The noise, the tall buildings, the crowds…‘s good. ‘s Greatness.”
Ray’s hope flared for a second, but then he realized that Stanley was born and raised in Chicago, and that his familiarity with the city didn’t mean he remembered anything from his adult life.
“How about you, Benton?”
“I’ve never been here before, sir, but I’ll … I’ll get used to it. If Ray likes it, I will learn to like it too.” The determination in the boy’s tone was that of a mature Mountie.
Don’t lose yourself too much in this relationship, kid, Ray thought.
Stanley’s considered opinion on the 2-7 precinct was that it was ‘cool’. Cool enough to make him express his wish to become a police officer one day along with the compliment.
Tell me something I don’t know, Ray thought.
He brought the boys to Welsh.
“Fraser. Kowalski,” the lieutenant said gruffly.
He couldn’t help it, it was just his voice, but Ray saw that he startled the kids.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on a shoulder of each boy to provide moral support.
“They need a place to stay,” he informed Welsh.
“I’ve thought about that. They can stay with me,” Harding grumbled.
This was definitely not an appealing notion to the boys.
“He’s harmless,” Ray whispered to them. “He looks kind of like a grizzly bear, but he’s an okay guy once you get to know him better.”
“I hear you, Vecchio.” Welsh snarled.
Jeez. Tone it down, Ray tried to telepathize to him. They are kids, of god’s sakes.
It seemed to work. Harding moved his lips into a smile. It looked kind of feral, but Ray appreciated the gesture. The boys looked positively frightened now, however.
“Listen guys,” Ray said. “You’re tough people aren’t you? And you’re together. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Tell you what, I’ll come along to the Lieutenant’s apartment to make sure he doesn’t bite your heads off. How’s that?”
It seemed to be a great relief to both of them. Benton looked up to him and said, “Thank you kindly, Mr. Vecchio.”
***
They took the boys out to dinner first. Stanley insisted on having pizza. With extra pineapple.
Ugh. Kids’ tastes never ceased to amaze Ray.
Afterwards the four of them went to Welsh’s apartment. The spare room had only one single bed.
“It’s just for tonight,” Harding said. “Tomorrow I’ll make other arrangements.”
“You don’t need to bother, sir.” Benton gestured at the luggage the boys had brought. “We have…”
It earned him a warning glare from Stanley.
“You don’t need to bother, sir.” Benton repeated. “We’ll be fine.”
“Right, then,” Welsh said. “Sleep well.”
“Good night, sir. Good night, Mr. Vecchio,” the boys said in choir.
Stanley was positively gloating. Ray wondered if Welsh noticed it too.
“I don’t suppose they will get much sleep tonight,” he said when they had closed the bedroom door.
“The bed is small, but surely they will be exhausted after everything that has happened,” Harding replied.
“Haven’t you noticed anything strange between them?” Ray said. “A vibe of some kind?”
“They seem very close, but that’s understandable. This is all very strange to them. Of course they seek comfort with each other.’
“Do you think that is all there is to it?”
Welsh gave him a look. “Don’t keep beating around the bush, Vecchio. If you got something to say, say it.”
Okay. “Sir, have you ever noticed a, um, vibe between Fraser and Kowalski?”
Harding sighed impatiently. “Detective, I’m not blind. Of course I have, just like everybody else, except them. When Ray called me about the search for the hand of Franklin I thought, Thank god, the penny has finally dropped, and I wished them a pleasant honeymoon. In silence of course.”
“Sir,” Ray said cautiously, “I think it was precisely this honeymoon that Victoria Metcalf intercepted. I also think that she failed to put an end to it.”
Welsh stared at him in horror. “Ray! For god’s sakes, they are children.”
“Well, not entirely, sir. True, they aren’t adults, but where hormones are concerned I don’t think they qualify as kids.”
Welsh was still staring at him. “Oh, god, help us.”
Ray grinned. “He may not want to, sir. You might need earplugs.”
***
Ray organized a meeting of adults who might be familiar to the boys. He called Stella, who first thought he had lost his mind, next that he had found an original way to stalk her-and finally got curious.
He spoke to Thatcher. After having been instrumental in the destabilization and overthrow of several of the world’s dictators (within one year!), the inspector had chosen to live a more quiet life and returned to Chicago to become chief at headquarters. She was skeptic about the story Ray told her, but she promised to come to the precinct.
He called Frannie who, at the notion of seeing Fraser again instantly said she would manage to find a sitter for her six babies no matter what. Ray cautiously informed her that Fraser had changed in ways she probably wouldn’t like, but that didn’t temper her enthusiasm. He hadn’t expected it to. He knew his sister.
Finally he called Turnbull. The man had fully recovered from the collision with his campaign bus that happened when he was running for public office, and in a subsequent fit of sanity (one of the very few ever to occur with Turnbull) he had decided to resume his posting at the Canadian Consulate. Renfield was shocked to hear what had happened to Constable Fraser and Detective Kowalski and he was determined to do whatever was within his power to help to break the spell of “that wicked witch”.
It was no use. The boys didn’t recognize any of the adults. Even prodding didn’t help.
Welsh tried. He started with Stella. “Ray, this is your ex-wife State Attorney Stella…um, Kowalski.”
Ray noticed the hesitation and appreciated it, but there was really no need. Stella had been Mrs. Kowalski for more than fifteen years, and she had been Attorney Kowalski for seven. It didn’t matter that she was still officially Mrs. Vecchio. She had only used his name for six months anyway.
“Do you remember her?” the lieutenant was asking.
Stanley’s eyes widened. He started to cackle. “Ex-wife?” he said. “You mean I was married to this woman? You mean we had sex?” He seemed to find the notion beyond hilarious.
Stella shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
Stanley took his time to laugh at the tremendously funny joke, but at some point his cackles subsided. Ray was about to feel relieved when the boy gave Stella a shockingly adult Kowalski-wink and said huskily, “Hi, honey. How you doin’?”
Then he cackled some more, while Stella was turning purple.
“Ray. Ray. Ray! Your behavior is very offensive to the Attorney.”
Stanley instantly calmed down. “Sorry,” he said. To Benton, not to Stella.
“Well, Fraser,” Welsh said. “I’d like to introduce you to Commander Thatcher, who you might recall as Inspector Thatcher.”
He sounded hopeful, but Benton shook his head. “No, I don’t, sir. I’m very sorry.” He turned to Thatcher, offering his apologies to her as well. Then he said to Welsh, “Sir, you seem to think that Ray and I would recognize these people. May I ask why?”
Welsh sighed and nodded. “The thing is, Fraser, these are all familiar people from your adult lives. However ludicrous the notion may seem to him, Ray did marry and divorce Attorney Kowalski. Inspector Thatcher was your superior when you were a Constable at the Canadian Consulate. Renfield Turnbull over here was your fellow officer.”
“Then I was a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?”
“Yes, Fraser, you were.”
“That’s odd, sir, because the RCMP usually doesn’t allow people under eighteen to join the force.”
“Oh, but you were well over eighteen when you worked at the Consulate, Fraser. You and Ray used to be adults, much the same age as Mr. Vecchio is now. In fact, Mr. Vecchio was your partner before Ray.”
“My partner, sir?” Confusion.
Stanley wasn’t pleased to hear this. At all.
“Your working partner, yes,” Welsh said. “You first came to Chicago on a trail of your f- well, that’s not important right now. The thing is you stayed, attached as a liaison to the Canadian Consulate. You partnered with Detective Vecchio before he was assigned to an undercover operation and Detective Kowalski took his position at the 27th precinct.”
The boys exchanged glances. Then Benton straightened his back and said, “Well, sir, it all seems highly unlikely to me.”
Hitting the nail right on the head, kid, Ray thought.
“It’s a load of crap,” Stanley said. He was going for tough, but his voice was trembling. “It’s all a load of crap, isn’t it, Ben?”
“I don’t know, Ray.”
“Ben?” The boy grabbed Benton hands, obviously scared. He leaned into Fraser, who put his arms around him, pulling him close and making shushing sounds, and kissing his hair.
“Please, don’t be upset,” he whispered. “It’s going to be all right. I promise. I love you, Ray.”
They were zoning out again, Ray saw. They were becoming oblivious to the office, the adults, the problem. Everything and everybody ceased to exist, except Benton and Stanley, whose glances, smiles, whispers, touches and kisses blended into something that was very beautiful to see.
The others noticed it too. They were very still, and it took quite some time before Welsh carefully cleared his throat and said softly, “Guys?”
The boys turned their heads, startled perhaps to be called back to adult reality, but unashamed.
Welsh ended the meeting in a strange atmosphere. They hadn’t come one inch closer to solving the problem, but something did have changed this afternoon. Ray was very aware of it when he heard Turnbull ask Frannie if she would do him the honor of having coffee with him - and when Stella handed Thatcher her card and said she’d like it very much if Meg would call her some time.
***
Ray still had no residence in Chicago after his remigration from Florida so he slept in a hotel, but he spent most of his evenings with Welsh and the boys.
The three of them appeared to be bonding. The kids were no longer afraid of Harding, and he seemed a different person at home than at the station. It was still abundantly clear that his orders had to be obeyed, but he didn’t give many. Nor did he put a lot of restraints.
He enjoys being a father, Ray thought.
They were having after dinner coffee, and the boys were playing chess at the other end of the room. Stanley was cheating.
“You’re cheating, Ray.” Quiet assessment.
“Yeah, Ben, what are you going to do about it?” Challenging tone.
“I’m going to make you pay. Tonight.” A promise.
“As a punishment?”
“No.”
“Because you love me?”
“Yes.”
Then they were kissing over the chessboard.
Ray couldn’t avert his eyes. He never could when they did this, this public, extemporary lovemaking - and they did it often. It wasn’t exhibitionism, and he didn’t feel like a voyeur. Watching the boys didn’t arouse him, it made him feel nostalgic for something he wasn’t sure he’d ever known. Immaculate intimacy. It made him feel humble.
He looked at Welsh to see if it affected the lieutenant in the same way.
Harding wasn’t looking at the boys. He was looking at Ray.
The eye contact was very awkward, yet Ray could only look away after an excruciating long second. Welsh asked him if he wanted another cup of coffee, but he announced that it was getting late already, turned the offer down, and left as soon as possible.
Outside, his heart was racing and his cheeks felt hot. He wasn’t sure why. He had known Welsh for ten years, never realizing what color eyes the lieutenant had. But after tonight, he would never forget their exact shade of blue-gray.
***
The cases he had on his plate allowed him to avoid the precinct altogether the next day. He spent his hours staking out and interviewing snitches. In the evening, he decided to visit Frannie.
Turnbull answered the door, looking severely disheveled. It couldn’t be the babies’ doing. With six of them they were a big baby force, but at six months of age surely they weren’t capable of doing this kind of damage.
“Good evening, Detective Vecchio,” Turnbull said in a calm tone but with something uncharacteristically wild in his eyes. “I take it you’re here to visit your sister?”
Ray was about to say he was when Frannie came to the door. She looked seriously mussed too. Her hair was ruffled (he knew how she hated it when people ruffled her hair; she needed a very good reason to let them) and the number of buttons undone on her blouse was shocking, even for her standards. Jesus, he had interrupted a make out session.
“Oh, uh, no,” he said. “Sorry. I got to go.”
He spent a very lonely evening at his hotel room.
***
“Morning, Vecchio.”
The tone was perfectly lieutenant-like, and the eyes were still blue-gray.
Like nothing had happened. Like there hadn’t been That Look. And maybe there hadn’t been. Maybe it had all been a figment of his imagination. But why, for god’s sakes, would he have imagined such a thing?
“Ray? Would you like to have dinner with us tonight?”
Jesus. There was the look again. The mesmerizing one.
He found himself accepting the offer. Of course, he dreaded his lonely hotel room. And he sort of missed the boys. (Yeah, sure Ray, you miss the boys.)
“Good,” Harding said.
Ray stared at the lieutenant’s broad back as he walked to his office. And then, for quite a while, at the corner of his desk, where Harding’s broad hands had been when he made his invitation.
***
The four of them had had dinner before. They were like your average American family; a father, two sons, and a … and an extra.
“Mr. Vecchio, would you pass me the potatoes, please?” Benton asked.
Ray did, and the boy smiled at him, as though Ray was self-evidently part of this. Jesus.
He shot at glance at Welsh, who was looking at him with the look he seemed to have a patent on since last Wednesday. They held gazes for a very long time, and Ray wasn’t sure if he wasn’t blushing. God, what was happening here?
After dinner the boys sat on the couch to watch television. That is, Benton sat; Stanley stretched out on the sofa and put his head in Fraser’s lap. Benton stroked the blond spikes with slow, regular caresses. It was only when his eyes glazed over that Ray realized Stanley was gently head-butting his, um, upper thighs.
He looked at Welsh, who was putting the dishes in the dishwasher. “You never tell them to cut it out, do you?”
“No. They aren’t doing anything wrong. If I would consider this exhibitionism, I’d be the pervert, not them. I may be jealous as hell of what they have, love in its purest form, but I can’t take that out on them. What kind of father …”
He stopped, shot Ray an embarrassed grin, and continued under his breath, not to disturb the boys, “You know, sometimes I lie awake at night-in complete silence, thanks to the earplugs you recommended me-and I pray that the spell won’t be broken. I really hope they will grow up the same pace other boys do. Do you think that’s weird?”
“No,” Ray said slowly, drowning in blue-gray. “No, I don’t.”
“Ray …” That searing look again. Oh, god.
“Don’t. Please … I can’t …”
“Okay.” Welsh deflated - it was painful to see. “Do you want to go back to your hotel?”
He did. And he didn’t.
If he gave in to what was pulling him, what would happen? A fling? A long-term relationship? With Harding Welsh? Jesus.
“No,” he found himself saying.
At nine o’ clock Welsh announced that it was bedtime for the boys. There were no protests. Obviously. They had probably been waiting for this.
Ray turned down the beer Harding offered him. To break the tension two things could happen; he could run, or they could have a Conversation. Either way he needed to stay sober.
Welsh had a beer. “Do you think I should lose weight?”
It was an awkward question, definitely a prelude to a Conversation, but Ray had a surprisingly strong opinion on the matter.
“No.”
Harding’s bearlike features suited him. He had always been like this. As far as Ray could remember Welsh hadn’t put on a single pound in the last decade.
“It has become of ridiculous importance to me what you think of how I look,” Harding said. “Ever since…Ever since the boys arrived.”
“Do you think it’s the spell?”
“I don’t know. And frankly, I don’t care.” With a loud thud Harding put his glass down, spilling beer. “I was only in love once before. I was fifteen at the time. I never told her, afraid that she would laugh at me. Then I finished high school, and I didn’t have the time for romance anymore; being busy with the academy, getting promoted, bossing people around.”
“Yeah,” Ray said, because he had a pretty clear picture.
“Ray...”
Who would have thought that such a big body could move so fast? He was hauled to his feet. The soft pressure of Harding’s fingers on his scalp felt nice. His face was so close. Ray’s throat felt dry.
“This is weird,” he whispered.
“It’s insane,” Harding replied hoarsely. “But, god, I want … can I kiss you?”
Ray tilted his head.
He was vaguely aware that he shouldn’t feel like this. Somebody (Victoria?) must have planted this feelings in him, they were not his own. He couldn’t be enjoying, relishing, kissing this plain looking man; someone of the wrong gender, the wrong age.
But he was. Harding was a wonderful kisser. And his smell made Ray want to climb inside him.
“Oh, god,” he breathed has he felt his knees buckle.
But Harding’s arms were around him to hold him steady, so it was all right.
***
An elderly couple entered the squad room demanding to talk to lieutenant Welsh about their son, Stanley Raymond Kowalski. Ray walked them to Harding’s office.
“Mr. and Mrs. Kowalski to see you about their son, sir,” he announced.
“Close the door and take a seat, Detective.”
Harding nodded superiorly. “Mr. and Mrs. Kowalski. What can we do for you?”
They had received a letter. Form someone they’d never heard of. A Victoria Metcalf. There was no return address. The letter was about their son Stanley. It said that he had been turned into a twelve year old boy. And that he was currently living with a lieutenant Harding Welsh. Together with his friend Benton Fraser, also twelve.
“We want to know if it’s true,” Mrs. Kowalski said. “And if it is, we want to take him back with us to Arizona.”
Welsh shot Ray a glance. A desperate one. A ‘do something, don’t let them take my kids’ glance.
Ray left the office and called Stella.
She said she couldn’t do anything. Ray was their son, he was a minor, and there was no history of abuse; they had every right to take him to Arizona.
“Stella, please. The boys won’t survive being separated. You’ve seen them. And Harding would…”
“I’ve seen them, Ray,” she replied, after a beat. “I think you’re right. Officially there’s nothing I can do, but Barbara and I are rather close. I could try and talk to her.”
“Hurry,” was all he said.
She arrived at noon and greeted Mrs. Kowalski as a long lost friend. At a quarter past twelve Ray left the office to receive the boys, who usually visited the precinct during their lunch breaks on school days.
“Ray, your parents are here. In Harding’s office. They want to take you home with them, but Stella-you remember Stella-is trying to change their minds. Do you want to go inside and say hello?”
Stanley froze for a moment. Then he took Benton’s hand in a firm grip and shook his head, looking very defiant. Ray new that any adult who would get it in his/her head to try to separate the boys would be in for a tough job.
Although he’d like nothing more than to take the kids out and feed them ice cream until they couldn’t possibly eat another bite, Ray behaved responsibly and pushed the boys gently in the direction of the office.
“Stanley!”
Mrs. Kowalski tried to hug her son, but he braced himself and did not let go of Benton’s hand.
She wasn’t put off that easily. With tears from emotion, she started to stroke his face, muttering, “Honey, oh honey, we’re going to take you home with us. Everything will be all right.”
“I’m not sure it would be in his best interest if you’d take him home, Barbara,” Stella said. “Unless you’d take Benton as well. The boys have a very strong bond.”
“No.” Mr. Kowalski hadn’t contributed much to the discussion until now, but he seemed willing to make up for it. “Stanley doesn’t need that boy. He’s only turning him queer. Our son doesn’t need the influence of any of you. Fate gave us a second chance at raising him, and we’re going to take it. The result will be more desirable this time.”
Stanley started to cry, and Ray couldn’t blame him. In fact, he had to suppress the urge to kick the boy’s father in the head on his behalf.
Benton cleared his throat. “Mr. Kowalski …”
A knock on the door announced Meg Thatcher.
“Hi. I went to your office to pick you up for lunch as a surprise because we are…”
She stopped, looked around, and addressed the Kowalskies in a more formal tone. “Good morning. I am Commander Thatcher. Pleased to meet you.”
“Hi,” Stella said warmly. “Let me brief you quickly, Meg. Ray’s parents are here to take him home. This would mean-”
“… separating the boys. I’d strongly advice against it.”
“Yes, Meg, so would I.”
Mr. Kowalski rose from his chair. “It’s none of your business,” he yelled. “Stanley is our son, and we are going to-”
Stella turned to his wife. “Barbara, please. Look at them.”
The boys were standing very close together. Benton had wrapped his arms around Stanley and was gently kissing away his tears. They were zoned out to the rest of the world again.
“Have you ever seen the play Romeo and Juliet?” Stella asked. From her tone Ray knew she had arrived at her closing plea. “Consider yourself watching Romeo and Julius right now. Do you really want to break this off? Are you willing to pay the consequences? A depressed son? A dead son, perhaps? Think again, Barbara. Please.”
“We can’t take them both,” Mrs. Kowalski said. “The trailer doesn’t accommodate four people.”
“If you love him, let him stay with Benton. Lieutenant Welsh is taking excellent care of the boys.”
Oh, Stella was good, Ray thought. Her tone a mixture of compassion and authority; her expression that of a still devoted former daughter in law.
Barbara Kowalski surrendered.
She turned to Harding. “We can visit him, can’t we? We can call him, write him letters?”
“Of course, Mrs. Kowalski,” he said. “After all, he is your son.”
Ray stood behind him and put his hands on Harding’s shoulders for a moment-by way of comfort, congratulations, and because it was more than twelve hours ago since they had last touched.
Nobody noticed. Except Stella, who raised her brow and smirked. Damn.
The Kowalskies were saying goodbye. Well, Barbara was. Mr. Kowalski was punctuating his dissatisfaction with the situation by a silent protest.
When they had left, to Ray’s surprise Meg walked up to Stella, cupped her face, kissed her soundly on the lips, and declared, “Honey, you are magnificent.”
It wasn’t the Stella/Meg thing that surprised him-he was just stunned that Thatcher turned out to be capable of doing something impulsive.
***
He still hadn’t slept with Harding. They hadn’t had the opportunity to be alone-and the apartment was really terribly noisy.
Ray had suggested his hotel room, but Harding’s reaction hadn’t been very enthusiastic.
“It’s not that I don’t want you,” he had said, holding Ray tight enough to convey that this was nothing but the truth. “But a hotel room is just…it isn’t romantic.”
Ray stared at him. Romantic. Harding Welsh. Who knew?
He called Frannie to ask if the boys could stay with her the next night. He didn’t explain why. It wasn’t necessary.
“Why would you want the boys to stay with me? They live with Welsh,” Frannie said.
“Ye-es.”
He started to count and came to three before she tore his eardrum to pieces by screaming, “Ray! You’re kidding me. You? And Harding?”
“Yes,” he said, feeling indignant. He had braced himself for her incredulous tone, but she was taking it too far. Harding was…well, he was wonderful, as a matter of fact.
“Frannie!” he yelled, in an attempt to be audible through her cackling. “Be a good sis, and tell me that you can have the boys tomorrow. Then you can cackle your head off. See if I care.”
“Of course, Ray,” she said, calming down a little. “I wouldn’t want to spoil my brother’s chances of getting laid-by his boss.”
***
Ray’s first night with Harding was incredible. Harding was a fucking genius.
Yeah, that was…that was a very fitting description.
The next morning Harding was still brilliant.
“I don’t think I can move a limb for the rest of the day,” Ray said.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Harding replied. Proudly.
He stretched out an arm to take something from the drawer. (Please, Ray thought, not again). “I bought you something.” Ray was handed a small box. “Open it.”
He felt a flare of panic. Harding was great. Ray had no complaints about Harding’s skills as a lover. On the contrary, he wouldn’t have any problem writing long enthusiastic letters home about them (which his mother would be shocked to read, of course). He could handle some romance too-as long as it didn’t become tacky. Wearing Harding’s ring would definitely be tacky though. Oh, jesus.
The wrapping paper looked rather plain-which was a relief of some kind. Ray lifted the lid of the box and braced himself.
For the sight of two earplugs.
Harding laughed. Homerically.
Ray felt giddy with relief and infatuation. “Are you proposing to me?”
“Yes,” Harding said seriously. “Yes, I am. Move in with me. With us.”
***
Ray checked out of his hotel and moved in with Harding and the boys. His permanent presence didn’t seem to surprise the kids in the least. They all got along fine, and everything was greatness, as Stanley would put it.
One thing bothered Ray though. It was clear that the boys were sexually active. The present Harding gave him couldn’t keep it a secret that they were very much that: active.
Ray was a parent now too, and he thought it would be wise to educate the kids about sex.
“I think it’s time we told the boys about the birds and the bees,” he said one Sunday afternoon.
Harding stared at him. “Sweetheart, don’t you think they have long found out what they think they need to know?”
“I think they have to know about safe sex. Also, it wouldn’t be any harm if we developed their general knowledge by telling them about this weird inclination known as heterosexuality. And its reproductive purposes.”
“Do you really think this is necessary?” Harding said doubtfully.
“I do. And seeing as you’re the dad, and I’m just the, um, uncle, you may do the honors.”
The boys were in the living room, captivated by their books. They were both dedicated library visitors and keen readers. Stanley devoured anything-as long as it was comics. Benton seemed to have set himself the goal of having read all classic English novels before the arrival of his thirteenth’s birthday. He was currently absorbed in D.H. Lawrence’s ‘Sons and Lovers’.
Ray felt the momentary urge to smack him on the head with Stanley’s X-men to make him take on a healthier hobby for somebody his age.
Harding cleared his throat. “Listen, guys,” he said. “You know about sex, don’t you?”
The boys turned pink, exchanged glances, looked away, obviously feeling guilty and caught.
Oh jeez. Surely they couldn’t be naïve enough to think that their activities would go unnoticed?
Harding threw him a mean ‘You and your great ideas’ glance, and said hastily, “There’s nothing wrong with that, guys. Even adults have sex occasionally.”
The boys clearly could have done without this last piece of information. Stanley looked positively aghast.
“Ray and I want to talk to you about the, um, the birds and the bees,” Harding said. “First you have to know that, although this household may serve as an example of the opposite, normally when it comes to human mating men choose women and women choose men.”
“Like Frannie and Renfield,” Stanley said. He sounded a little doubtful, and Ray understood him well. Frannie and Turnbull were not the first people who came to mind when ‘normal’ was considered.
“Ye-es,” Harding affirmed hesitantly. “At any rate, when a man and a woman have sex, pregnancy can occur.”
Duh, Stanley’s face was saying. You think we’re dumb or something?
What he said was, “Yeah. A man can put his dick in a woman’s vagina. She has eggs, and when he comes, his cum gets to one of the eggs and a baby grows.”
“By processes that are called mitosis and meiosis respectively,” Benton put in. “Mitosis means that-”
Harding shook his head quickly. “Not now, Fraser. Some other time, please.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Right,” Harding said. “Clearly the birds and the bees are old news to you. How about safe sex and condoms?”
“We don’t need condoms,” Stanley said immediately. “We are mon … mono … I have sex only with Ben, and Ben has sex only with me. So we can’t get Aids.”
“Things can change over time,” Ray put in cautiously. “It might be a good idea to-”
“No, it won’t,” Stanley said determined. “Nothing will change. Ben and me are forever.”
“Yeah, but …”
He stopped. If looks could kill Ray would be a dead man now. Stanley wasn’t putting his protest into words, but the expression on his face was screaming, ‘Ben and me won’t need condoms! Ever!’
“Right,” Ray said.
“So you guys have no more questions?” Harding inquired.
Stanley shrugged. “We’re going to need more lube sometime soon.”
Ray stared at him. “More lube?”
Stanley nodded. “We bought some last week. ‘s Great stuff. Spit’s okay, but lube …”
He sighed contently, the look on his face one of sheer delight. In fact, Ray thought shocked, it qualified as pornographic.
“Where did you get the money?”
“Renfield gave it to us, for babysitting.”
“Babysitting?”
“The night we stayed at Frannie’s,” Stanley said. “Renfield thought it would be nice to take her out to a movie, so Ben and I looked after the babies.”
“And she agreed to let you?”
“At first she didn’t, but then Ben explained to her that it would be okay.”
Of course. If at twelve Benton’s powers of explanation were even thirty percent of their adult potential, Frannie hadn’t stood a chance.
“How did the two of you manage six babies?” Harding asked.
“We bathed them,” Benton replied. “They like to be bathed. Then we put them to bed. They slept very soundly. We mopped the bathroom floor after the bathing of course.”
Ray was impressed. So was Harding. In fact, they both were dumbstruck for several seconds.
“Can we go now?” Stanley asked impatiently.
Harding startled, then nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
The boys left the room; sons, lovers, and X-men discarded and forgotten.
“You realize, of course, that they are throwing themselves a nice little intimate lube party right now, don’t you?” Ray said.
“Yes.” Harding nodded slowly, as though he still hadn’t completely recovered from the shock. Then he shook his head energetically, smiled, and pulled Ray in his lap. “We could do that too.”
“We could indeed,” Ray smiled back. He leisurely kissed Harding’s lips, feeling home, happy, and horny in a lazy ‘we have all the time of the world to enjoy this, and we will,’ kind of way.’
Soon he didn’t feel very lazy anymore. Harding was doing…things.
Before Ray let himself drown in pleasure, he wondered briefly about Victoria. There were only two options, really. She was one rookie witch, or she was an angel in disguise. Either way, she had his eternal gratitude.
END
Rating: R
Size: about 7000 words
Summary: Victoria is a witch and she comes back and finds Fraser having sex with RayK!!! And she turns them both into kids!!! And RayV has to find out how to change them back!!! Is Frannie a better babysitter than Turnbull? What do Thatcher and Stella think? Why are Ray's parents at the station? And who exactly picked Welsh to explain the birds and the bees? (Eventual Fraser/RayK pairing!!!)
Note: the summary was written by sherriaisling
Warnings: Child pornography (very, very, very soft core, and with full mutual consent)
***
I thought it would be easy; just follow the prompt, you know. I had a nice crazy one, that asked me to address four specific questions. I started by answering them.
1. Is Frannie a better babysitter than Turnbull? The both of them are still having heated discussions about this one on a regular basis. They always make up afterwards though. By making out. (Francesca is mother of sixteen instead of six now.)
2. What do Thatcher and Stella think? They think they like each other. Very much.
3. Why are Ray's parents at the station? Ray’s parents are at the station to collect their son and to have a second chance at raising him - in a more desirable direction this time. Stella prevents this from happening. (Yay, Stella!)
4. And who exactly picked Welsh to explain the birds and the bees? Vecchio did. However, he was the one who came up with the lube allowance.
Writing a story along these lines would result in badfic, right? Wrong. I wrote a blatant romfic! And the crazy thing is, I have never ever written romfic before. I usually write tough, macho, action-adventure stories (Due South is the perfect fandom for that, I think). I don’t know what happened. Maybe I was bewitched. Anyway, I apologize, especially to Sherriaisling.
A love like theirs
"I would like to know why nearly every man that approaches greatness tends to homosexuality, whether he admits it or not" - D.H. Lawrence.
***
“Vecchio! In my office. Now!”
Something in Welsh’s tone made Ray look up. It wasn’t that Harding didn’t sound authoritarian. The man was so used to giving orders, he wouldn’t be able to not sound domineering. There was something else in his voice though. Confusion. And worry.
Ray left his desk. His old/new desk. The desk he abandoned more than two years ago and had returned to last month. Confusion was the right word to describe his emotions too. Confusion, and sadness, and anger.
Oh, goddammit, Stella.
“What’s wrong, sir?” he asked, closing the door.
“Telephone call. From Fraser.” Welsh picked up the receiver and handed it to Ray. “Be nice to him. He’s just a kid.”
One fleeting second Ray thought it was a prank. But the lieutenant looked anything but a prankster right now.
“Ray Vecchio,” he said cautiously.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Vecchio. This is Benton Fraser speaking,” a boy replied on the other end of the line. “Lieutenant Welsh asked me to talk to you directly. My call seems to have confused him a great deal, I’m afraid.”
The boy couldn’t be older than twelve, Ray assessed.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“We’re in Canada, in Inuvik, the North West Territories, sir. Mr. Baker was kind enough to let us make a long distance call from the post office. We found the telephone number in Ray’s luggage. We didn’t realize that it belonged to a police station in Chicago.”
“Ray?” Ray said. “Ray Kowalski? Is he with you?”
“Yes, he is, sir. He …” The voice on the other end suddenly started to tremble, and Ray realized that he was indeed talking to a twelve year old boy instead of the forty-ish Mountie Benton Fraser had been when they last spoke. The boy’s vocabulary bore an uncanny resemblance to the Mountie’s.
“Is he all right?”
“I’m … I’m not sure, sir.” The boy was on the verge of tears now. “He isn’t hurt, but he isn’t used to the climate, and I can’t seem to keep him warm, no matter how hard I try.”
The voice, filled with self-blame, stopped and then resumed, “He’s very scared. He wants to go home.”
“Chicago is home to him?”
“Yes, sir. He thinks it is where he lives.”
“And what do you think, Benton?” (The boy didn’t sound like Benny, and you just didn’t call a kid by his last name, Ray thought.)
“I’ve never been to Chicago, sir, but I go where Ray goes.”
Ah. The voice was the epitome of unwavering. Whatever mystery had happened in Canada, it hadn’t changed a thing about the strong Kowalski-Fraser bond - that much was clear.
Ray looked at Welsh, who nodded. Then he said, “All right, Benton, stay put and tell St- tell Ray to hang in there just a little while longer. I’ll come and get you.”
***
Mr. Baker had taken good care of the boys; he’d let them camp near the post office and made sure they ate well. The food, the sleep and the warmth seemed to have done wonders, especially for Stanley.
Seeing the boys was a weird experience. Ray had no difficulty recognizing them; one blond, one dark-haired; one skinny, one broader; one bouncy, one quiet. But they were kids. It was strange to be confronted with such a clear, lively image of the youngsters they had been before. Only ‘before’ didn’t apply anymore. They were boys now. Very pretty, twelve year old boys.
It wouldn’t take more than a few months before Benton would be a serious heartthrob, Ray assessed. Then he noticed that - good god - the boy was already precisely that to Stanley.
And vise versa.
Caribou in heat, he thought. He had never actually seen caribou in heat, but the comparison seemed fitting under the circumstances. And they were only twelve, for god’s sakes.
He cleared his throat. “Right, may I have your attention, guys? Do you know who I am?”
“We know your name, sir,” Benton said. “But we have never seen you before.”
“So you don’t remember me. Okay.” Ray nodded. “Is there anything you do remember from before you made the call to Chicago?”
“The woman,” Stanley put in.
“What woman?”
“She was very beautiful,” Benton said slowly. “She had long, dark, curly hair, and-”
“And very cold eyes,” Stanley snapped. (Ah, Ray thought, I’m currently watching one hell of a possessive lover.)
“Did she say her name?”
“No.” Stanley shook his head. “She laughed and she said we were cute, but she didn’t sound like she meant it. She sounded evil.”
Ray turned to Benton. “Does the name Victoria Metcalf mean anything to you?”
The boy furrowed his brow, searching his memory. “No, sir, it doesn’t. I’m very sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ray muttered. “Where were you when the woman appeared?”
They had been out camping on an ice field, Benton stated a little hesitantly.
“She was very angry,” Stanley declared. “With Ben.” He sounded surprised as well as miffed that anyone would have the nerve to be angry with his precious Ben. “She said that he didn’t deserve to be happy if he chose to live without her.”
“And I’d never even seen her before,” Benton said in amazement.
“She took our dogs,” Stanley continued. “So we had to walk all by ourselves to the nearest town.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I nearly froze to death three times, didn’t I Ben?”
Turning a couple of shades paler, Benton nodded. “Yes, Ray, you did.”
“But you saved me!” Triumphant look. Proud voice.
Ray got the message loud and clear. Seated next to him was Stanley’s boyfriend Benton Fraser, superhero.
“All right, guys,” he said, “I think it’s time we paid a little visit to someone who knows a thing or two about magic and witchcraft and stuff.”
“Cool,” Stanley said, and his voice dropped to confidentiality level when he added, “you know, my hunches tell me that that woman we met might have been a witch.”
Ray squeezed the boy’s boney shoulder and thought, Kid, you’re going to make a damn fine detective some day.
***
Finding Quinn wasn’t easy, but when they did, the man didn’t seem surprised by their visit. It did surprise Ray that Benton recognized his former (or not so former) Inuit guide and mentor immediately.
“Quinn!”
“Hello, Ben. How are you?”
“I’m fine. This is…”
“Your friend Ray Kowalski.”
“Yes, and this is…”
“Detective Vecchio, with whom I’d like to have a word.”
The boys got off into the woods, and Quinn took Ray’s arm. “This seems witchcraft to me,” he said. “By a woman scorned, most likely.”
Ray nodded. “My thoughts exactly. Have you any idea what can be done about it?”
“That depends on what recollection they have of their adult lives,” Quinn said. “If they have memories, the spell can be broken. If not, well, then they are just two twelve year old boys like any other, who will become adults over time.”
“That’s horrible!”
“Is it?” Quinn wondered. “Let me talk to them first.”
He called the boys and spoke to them separately. Then he shared his conclusions with Ray.
“Neither of them seems to remember anything before the spell was cast. Perhaps confrontation with familiar things and people in Chicago will trigger memories, but I wouldn’t be too sure about it.”
“I’ll try,” Ray said fervently, “I’ll try anything.”
“Don’t try too hard,” Quinn warned. “Look at them.”
Ray did. The boys’ romping session had evolved into a make out session. Stanley was lying on top. Benton’s hands were cupping his face and holding it at the right angle. They were kissing-with the kind of focus that told Ray they were completely zoned out to the rest of the world.
“That’s love,” Quinn nodded. “They’re happy. To live three extra decades won’t be hardship for them.”
“It won’t last,” Ray said.
“You sound cynical,” Quinn stated.
“Yeah, well, you’re talking to a man whose second divorce is about to become official.”
“Ah. I see. Well, as they say, love can be found in unexpected places.” Quinn looked at him-knowingly, Ray thought. “It’s going to be all right, Ray, trust me,” he said quietly. “Good luck.”
***
The boys were impressed with Chicago. Benton grew very quiet, while Stanley loudly voiced his enthusiasm.
“Do you recognize anything?” Ray asked the boy.
“Yeah. The noise, the tall buildings, the crowds…‘s good. ‘s Greatness.”
Ray’s hope flared for a second, but then he realized that Stanley was born and raised in Chicago, and that his familiarity with the city didn’t mean he remembered anything from his adult life.
“How about you, Benton?”
“I’ve never been here before, sir, but I’ll … I’ll get used to it. If Ray likes it, I will learn to like it too.” The determination in the boy’s tone was that of a mature Mountie.
Don’t lose yourself too much in this relationship, kid, Ray thought.
Stanley’s considered opinion on the 2-7 precinct was that it was ‘cool’. Cool enough to make him express his wish to become a police officer one day along with the compliment.
Tell me something I don’t know, Ray thought.
He brought the boys to Welsh.
“Fraser. Kowalski,” the lieutenant said gruffly.
He couldn’t help it, it was just his voice, but Ray saw that he startled the kids.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on a shoulder of each boy to provide moral support.
“They need a place to stay,” he informed Welsh.
“I’ve thought about that. They can stay with me,” Harding grumbled.
This was definitely not an appealing notion to the boys.
“He’s harmless,” Ray whispered to them. “He looks kind of like a grizzly bear, but he’s an okay guy once you get to know him better.”
“I hear you, Vecchio.” Welsh snarled.
Jeez. Tone it down, Ray tried to telepathize to him. They are kids, of god’s sakes.
It seemed to work. Harding moved his lips into a smile. It looked kind of feral, but Ray appreciated the gesture. The boys looked positively frightened now, however.
“Listen guys,” Ray said. “You’re tough people aren’t you? And you’re together. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Tell you what, I’ll come along to the Lieutenant’s apartment to make sure he doesn’t bite your heads off. How’s that?”
It seemed to be a great relief to both of them. Benton looked up to him and said, “Thank you kindly, Mr. Vecchio.”
***
They took the boys out to dinner first. Stanley insisted on having pizza. With extra pineapple.
Ugh. Kids’ tastes never ceased to amaze Ray.
Afterwards the four of them went to Welsh’s apartment. The spare room had only one single bed.
“It’s just for tonight,” Harding said. “Tomorrow I’ll make other arrangements.”
“You don’t need to bother, sir.” Benton gestured at the luggage the boys had brought. “We have…”
It earned him a warning glare from Stanley.
“You don’t need to bother, sir.” Benton repeated. “We’ll be fine.”
“Right, then,” Welsh said. “Sleep well.”
“Good night, sir. Good night, Mr. Vecchio,” the boys said in choir.
Stanley was positively gloating. Ray wondered if Welsh noticed it too.
“I don’t suppose they will get much sleep tonight,” he said when they had closed the bedroom door.
“The bed is small, but surely they will be exhausted after everything that has happened,” Harding replied.
“Haven’t you noticed anything strange between them?” Ray said. “A vibe of some kind?”
“They seem very close, but that’s understandable. This is all very strange to them. Of course they seek comfort with each other.’
“Do you think that is all there is to it?”
Welsh gave him a look. “Don’t keep beating around the bush, Vecchio. If you got something to say, say it.”
Okay. “Sir, have you ever noticed a, um, vibe between Fraser and Kowalski?”
Harding sighed impatiently. “Detective, I’m not blind. Of course I have, just like everybody else, except them. When Ray called me about the search for the hand of Franklin I thought, Thank god, the penny has finally dropped, and I wished them a pleasant honeymoon. In silence of course.”
“Sir,” Ray said cautiously, “I think it was precisely this honeymoon that Victoria Metcalf intercepted. I also think that she failed to put an end to it.”
Welsh stared at him in horror. “Ray! For god’s sakes, they are children.”
“Well, not entirely, sir. True, they aren’t adults, but where hormones are concerned I don’t think they qualify as kids.”
Welsh was still staring at him. “Oh, god, help us.”
Ray grinned. “He may not want to, sir. You might need earplugs.”
***
Ray organized a meeting of adults who might be familiar to the boys. He called Stella, who first thought he had lost his mind, next that he had found an original way to stalk her-and finally got curious.
He spoke to Thatcher. After having been instrumental in the destabilization and overthrow of several of the world’s dictators (within one year!), the inspector had chosen to live a more quiet life and returned to Chicago to become chief at headquarters. She was skeptic about the story Ray told her, but she promised to come to the precinct.
He called Frannie who, at the notion of seeing Fraser again instantly said she would manage to find a sitter for her six babies no matter what. Ray cautiously informed her that Fraser had changed in ways she probably wouldn’t like, but that didn’t temper her enthusiasm. He hadn’t expected it to. He knew his sister.
Finally he called Turnbull. The man had fully recovered from the collision with his campaign bus that happened when he was running for public office, and in a subsequent fit of sanity (one of the very few ever to occur with Turnbull) he had decided to resume his posting at the Canadian Consulate. Renfield was shocked to hear what had happened to Constable Fraser and Detective Kowalski and he was determined to do whatever was within his power to help to break the spell of “that wicked witch”.
It was no use. The boys didn’t recognize any of the adults. Even prodding didn’t help.
Welsh tried. He started with Stella. “Ray, this is your ex-wife State Attorney Stella…um, Kowalski.”
Ray noticed the hesitation and appreciated it, but there was really no need. Stella had been Mrs. Kowalski for more than fifteen years, and she had been Attorney Kowalski for seven. It didn’t matter that she was still officially Mrs. Vecchio. She had only used his name for six months anyway.
“Do you remember her?” the lieutenant was asking.
Stanley’s eyes widened. He started to cackle. “Ex-wife?” he said. “You mean I was married to this woman? You mean we had sex?” He seemed to find the notion beyond hilarious.
Stella shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
Stanley took his time to laugh at the tremendously funny joke, but at some point his cackles subsided. Ray was about to feel relieved when the boy gave Stella a shockingly adult Kowalski-wink and said huskily, “Hi, honey. How you doin’?”
Then he cackled some more, while Stella was turning purple.
“Ray. Ray. Ray! Your behavior is very offensive to the Attorney.”
Stanley instantly calmed down. “Sorry,” he said. To Benton, not to Stella.
“Well, Fraser,” Welsh said. “I’d like to introduce you to Commander Thatcher, who you might recall as Inspector Thatcher.”
He sounded hopeful, but Benton shook his head. “No, I don’t, sir. I’m very sorry.” He turned to Thatcher, offering his apologies to her as well. Then he said to Welsh, “Sir, you seem to think that Ray and I would recognize these people. May I ask why?”
Welsh sighed and nodded. “The thing is, Fraser, these are all familiar people from your adult lives. However ludicrous the notion may seem to him, Ray did marry and divorce Attorney Kowalski. Inspector Thatcher was your superior when you were a Constable at the Canadian Consulate. Renfield Turnbull over here was your fellow officer.”
“Then I was a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police?”
“Yes, Fraser, you were.”
“That’s odd, sir, because the RCMP usually doesn’t allow people under eighteen to join the force.”
“Oh, but you were well over eighteen when you worked at the Consulate, Fraser. You and Ray used to be adults, much the same age as Mr. Vecchio is now. In fact, Mr. Vecchio was your partner before Ray.”
“My partner, sir?” Confusion.
Stanley wasn’t pleased to hear this. At all.
“Your working partner, yes,” Welsh said. “You first came to Chicago on a trail of your f- well, that’s not important right now. The thing is you stayed, attached as a liaison to the Canadian Consulate. You partnered with Detective Vecchio before he was assigned to an undercover operation and Detective Kowalski took his position at the 27th precinct.”
The boys exchanged glances. Then Benton straightened his back and said, “Well, sir, it all seems highly unlikely to me.”
Hitting the nail right on the head, kid, Ray thought.
“It’s a load of crap,” Stanley said. He was going for tough, but his voice was trembling. “It’s all a load of crap, isn’t it, Ben?”
“I don’t know, Ray.”
“Ben?” The boy grabbed Benton hands, obviously scared. He leaned into Fraser, who put his arms around him, pulling him close and making shushing sounds, and kissing his hair.
“Please, don’t be upset,” he whispered. “It’s going to be all right. I promise. I love you, Ray.”
They were zoning out again, Ray saw. They were becoming oblivious to the office, the adults, the problem. Everything and everybody ceased to exist, except Benton and Stanley, whose glances, smiles, whispers, touches and kisses blended into something that was very beautiful to see.
The others noticed it too. They were very still, and it took quite some time before Welsh carefully cleared his throat and said softly, “Guys?”
The boys turned their heads, startled perhaps to be called back to adult reality, but unashamed.
Welsh ended the meeting in a strange atmosphere. They hadn’t come one inch closer to solving the problem, but something did have changed this afternoon. Ray was very aware of it when he heard Turnbull ask Frannie if she would do him the honor of having coffee with him - and when Stella handed Thatcher her card and said she’d like it very much if Meg would call her some time.
***
Ray still had no residence in Chicago after his remigration from Florida so he slept in a hotel, but he spent most of his evenings with Welsh and the boys.
The three of them appeared to be bonding. The kids were no longer afraid of Harding, and he seemed a different person at home than at the station. It was still abundantly clear that his orders had to be obeyed, but he didn’t give many. Nor did he put a lot of restraints.
He enjoys being a father, Ray thought.
They were having after dinner coffee, and the boys were playing chess at the other end of the room. Stanley was cheating.
“You’re cheating, Ray.” Quiet assessment.
“Yeah, Ben, what are you going to do about it?” Challenging tone.
“I’m going to make you pay. Tonight.” A promise.
“As a punishment?”
“No.”
“Because you love me?”
“Yes.”
Then they were kissing over the chessboard.
Ray couldn’t avert his eyes. He never could when they did this, this public, extemporary lovemaking - and they did it often. It wasn’t exhibitionism, and he didn’t feel like a voyeur. Watching the boys didn’t arouse him, it made him feel nostalgic for something he wasn’t sure he’d ever known. Immaculate intimacy. It made him feel humble.
He looked at Welsh to see if it affected the lieutenant in the same way.
Harding wasn’t looking at the boys. He was looking at Ray.
The eye contact was very awkward, yet Ray could only look away after an excruciating long second. Welsh asked him if he wanted another cup of coffee, but he announced that it was getting late already, turned the offer down, and left as soon as possible.
Outside, his heart was racing and his cheeks felt hot. He wasn’t sure why. He had known Welsh for ten years, never realizing what color eyes the lieutenant had. But after tonight, he would never forget their exact shade of blue-gray.
***
The cases he had on his plate allowed him to avoid the precinct altogether the next day. He spent his hours staking out and interviewing snitches. In the evening, he decided to visit Frannie.
Turnbull answered the door, looking severely disheveled. It couldn’t be the babies’ doing. With six of them they were a big baby force, but at six months of age surely they weren’t capable of doing this kind of damage.
“Good evening, Detective Vecchio,” Turnbull said in a calm tone but with something uncharacteristically wild in his eyes. “I take it you’re here to visit your sister?”
Ray was about to say he was when Frannie came to the door. She looked seriously mussed too. Her hair was ruffled (he knew how she hated it when people ruffled her hair; she needed a very good reason to let them) and the number of buttons undone on her blouse was shocking, even for her standards. Jesus, he had interrupted a make out session.
“Oh, uh, no,” he said. “Sorry. I got to go.”
He spent a very lonely evening at his hotel room.
***
“Morning, Vecchio.”
The tone was perfectly lieutenant-like, and the eyes were still blue-gray.
Like nothing had happened. Like there hadn’t been That Look. And maybe there hadn’t been. Maybe it had all been a figment of his imagination. But why, for god’s sakes, would he have imagined such a thing?
“Ray? Would you like to have dinner with us tonight?”
Jesus. There was the look again. The mesmerizing one.
He found himself accepting the offer. Of course, he dreaded his lonely hotel room. And he sort of missed the boys. (Yeah, sure Ray, you miss the boys.)
“Good,” Harding said.
Ray stared at the lieutenant’s broad back as he walked to his office. And then, for quite a while, at the corner of his desk, where Harding’s broad hands had been when he made his invitation.
***
The four of them had had dinner before. They were like your average American family; a father, two sons, and a … and an extra.
“Mr. Vecchio, would you pass me the potatoes, please?” Benton asked.
Ray did, and the boy smiled at him, as though Ray was self-evidently part of this. Jesus.
He shot at glance at Welsh, who was looking at him with the look he seemed to have a patent on since last Wednesday. They held gazes for a very long time, and Ray wasn’t sure if he wasn’t blushing. God, what was happening here?
After dinner the boys sat on the couch to watch television. That is, Benton sat; Stanley stretched out on the sofa and put his head in Fraser’s lap. Benton stroked the blond spikes with slow, regular caresses. It was only when his eyes glazed over that Ray realized Stanley was gently head-butting his, um, upper thighs.
He looked at Welsh, who was putting the dishes in the dishwasher. “You never tell them to cut it out, do you?”
“No. They aren’t doing anything wrong. If I would consider this exhibitionism, I’d be the pervert, not them. I may be jealous as hell of what they have, love in its purest form, but I can’t take that out on them. What kind of father …”
He stopped, shot Ray an embarrassed grin, and continued under his breath, not to disturb the boys, “You know, sometimes I lie awake at night-in complete silence, thanks to the earplugs you recommended me-and I pray that the spell won’t be broken. I really hope they will grow up the same pace other boys do. Do you think that’s weird?”
“No,” Ray said slowly, drowning in blue-gray. “No, I don’t.”
“Ray …” That searing look again. Oh, god.
“Don’t. Please … I can’t …”
“Okay.” Welsh deflated - it was painful to see. “Do you want to go back to your hotel?”
He did. And he didn’t.
If he gave in to what was pulling him, what would happen? A fling? A long-term relationship? With Harding Welsh? Jesus.
“No,” he found himself saying.
At nine o’ clock Welsh announced that it was bedtime for the boys. There were no protests. Obviously. They had probably been waiting for this.
Ray turned down the beer Harding offered him. To break the tension two things could happen; he could run, or they could have a Conversation. Either way he needed to stay sober.
Welsh had a beer. “Do you think I should lose weight?”
It was an awkward question, definitely a prelude to a Conversation, but Ray had a surprisingly strong opinion on the matter.
“No.”
Harding’s bearlike features suited him. He had always been like this. As far as Ray could remember Welsh hadn’t put on a single pound in the last decade.
“It has become of ridiculous importance to me what you think of how I look,” Harding said. “Ever since…Ever since the boys arrived.”
“Do you think it’s the spell?”
“I don’t know. And frankly, I don’t care.” With a loud thud Harding put his glass down, spilling beer. “I was only in love once before. I was fifteen at the time. I never told her, afraid that she would laugh at me. Then I finished high school, and I didn’t have the time for romance anymore; being busy with the academy, getting promoted, bossing people around.”
“Yeah,” Ray said, because he had a pretty clear picture.
“Ray...”
Who would have thought that such a big body could move so fast? He was hauled to his feet. The soft pressure of Harding’s fingers on his scalp felt nice. His face was so close. Ray’s throat felt dry.
“This is weird,” he whispered.
“It’s insane,” Harding replied hoarsely. “But, god, I want … can I kiss you?”
Ray tilted his head.
He was vaguely aware that he shouldn’t feel like this. Somebody (Victoria?) must have planted this feelings in him, they were not his own. He couldn’t be enjoying, relishing, kissing this plain looking man; someone of the wrong gender, the wrong age.
But he was. Harding was a wonderful kisser. And his smell made Ray want to climb inside him.
“Oh, god,” he breathed has he felt his knees buckle.
But Harding’s arms were around him to hold him steady, so it was all right.
***
An elderly couple entered the squad room demanding to talk to lieutenant Welsh about their son, Stanley Raymond Kowalski. Ray walked them to Harding’s office.
“Mr. and Mrs. Kowalski to see you about their son, sir,” he announced.
“Close the door and take a seat, Detective.”
Harding nodded superiorly. “Mr. and Mrs. Kowalski. What can we do for you?”
They had received a letter. Form someone they’d never heard of. A Victoria Metcalf. There was no return address. The letter was about their son Stanley. It said that he had been turned into a twelve year old boy. And that he was currently living with a lieutenant Harding Welsh. Together with his friend Benton Fraser, also twelve.
“We want to know if it’s true,” Mrs. Kowalski said. “And if it is, we want to take him back with us to Arizona.”
Welsh shot Ray a glance. A desperate one. A ‘do something, don’t let them take my kids’ glance.
Ray left the office and called Stella.
She said she couldn’t do anything. Ray was their son, he was a minor, and there was no history of abuse; they had every right to take him to Arizona.
“Stella, please. The boys won’t survive being separated. You’ve seen them. And Harding would…”
“I’ve seen them, Ray,” she replied, after a beat. “I think you’re right. Officially there’s nothing I can do, but Barbara and I are rather close. I could try and talk to her.”
“Hurry,” was all he said.
She arrived at noon and greeted Mrs. Kowalski as a long lost friend. At a quarter past twelve Ray left the office to receive the boys, who usually visited the precinct during their lunch breaks on school days.
“Ray, your parents are here. In Harding’s office. They want to take you home with them, but Stella-you remember Stella-is trying to change their minds. Do you want to go inside and say hello?”
Stanley froze for a moment. Then he took Benton’s hand in a firm grip and shook his head, looking very defiant. Ray new that any adult who would get it in his/her head to try to separate the boys would be in for a tough job.
Although he’d like nothing more than to take the kids out and feed them ice cream until they couldn’t possibly eat another bite, Ray behaved responsibly and pushed the boys gently in the direction of the office.
“Stanley!”
Mrs. Kowalski tried to hug her son, but he braced himself and did not let go of Benton’s hand.
She wasn’t put off that easily. With tears from emotion, she started to stroke his face, muttering, “Honey, oh honey, we’re going to take you home with us. Everything will be all right.”
“I’m not sure it would be in his best interest if you’d take him home, Barbara,” Stella said. “Unless you’d take Benton as well. The boys have a very strong bond.”
“No.” Mr. Kowalski hadn’t contributed much to the discussion until now, but he seemed willing to make up for it. “Stanley doesn’t need that boy. He’s only turning him queer. Our son doesn’t need the influence of any of you. Fate gave us a second chance at raising him, and we’re going to take it. The result will be more desirable this time.”
Stanley started to cry, and Ray couldn’t blame him. In fact, he had to suppress the urge to kick the boy’s father in the head on his behalf.
Benton cleared his throat. “Mr. Kowalski …”
A knock on the door announced Meg Thatcher.
“Hi. I went to your office to pick you up for lunch as a surprise because we are…”
She stopped, looked around, and addressed the Kowalskies in a more formal tone. “Good morning. I am Commander Thatcher. Pleased to meet you.”
“Hi,” Stella said warmly. “Let me brief you quickly, Meg. Ray’s parents are here to take him home. This would mean-”
“… separating the boys. I’d strongly advice against it.”
“Yes, Meg, so would I.”
Mr. Kowalski rose from his chair. “It’s none of your business,” he yelled. “Stanley is our son, and we are going to-”
Stella turned to his wife. “Barbara, please. Look at them.”
The boys were standing very close together. Benton had wrapped his arms around Stanley and was gently kissing away his tears. They were zoned out to the rest of the world again.
“Have you ever seen the play Romeo and Juliet?” Stella asked. From her tone Ray knew she had arrived at her closing plea. “Consider yourself watching Romeo and Julius right now. Do you really want to break this off? Are you willing to pay the consequences? A depressed son? A dead son, perhaps? Think again, Barbara. Please.”
“We can’t take them both,” Mrs. Kowalski said. “The trailer doesn’t accommodate four people.”
“If you love him, let him stay with Benton. Lieutenant Welsh is taking excellent care of the boys.”
Oh, Stella was good, Ray thought. Her tone a mixture of compassion and authority; her expression that of a still devoted former daughter in law.
Barbara Kowalski surrendered.
She turned to Harding. “We can visit him, can’t we? We can call him, write him letters?”
“Of course, Mrs. Kowalski,” he said. “After all, he is your son.”
Ray stood behind him and put his hands on Harding’s shoulders for a moment-by way of comfort, congratulations, and because it was more than twelve hours ago since they had last touched.
Nobody noticed. Except Stella, who raised her brow and smirked. Damn.
The Kowalskies were saying goodbye. Well, Barbara was. Mr. Kowalski was punctuating his dissatisfaction with the situation by a silent protest.
When they had left, to Ray’s surprise Meg walked up to Stella, cupped her face, kissed her soundly on the lips, and declared, “Honey, you are magnificent.”
It wasn’t the Stella/Meg thing that surprised him-he was just stunned that Thatcher turned out to be capable of doing something impulsive.
***
He still hadn’t slept with Harding. They hadn’t had the opportunity to be alone-and the apartment was really terribly noisy.
Ray had suggested his hotel room, but Harding’s reaction hadn’t been very enthusiastic.
“It’s not that I don’t want you,” he had said, holding Ray tight enough to convey that this was nothing but the truth. “But a hotel room is just…it isn’t romantic.”
Ray stared at him. Romantic. Harding Welsh. Who knew?
He called Frannie to ask if the boys could stay with her the next night. He didn’t explain why. It wasn’t necessary.
“Why would you want the boys to stay with me? They live with Welsh,” Frannie said.
“Ye-es.”
He started to count and came to three before she tore his eardrum to pieces by screaming, “Ray! You’re kidding me. You? And Harding?”
“Yes,” he said, feeling indignant. He had braced himself for her incredulous tone, but she was taking it too far. Harding was…well, he was wonderful, as a matter of fact.
“Frannie!” he yelled, in an attempt to be audible through her cackling. “Be a good sis, and tell me that you can have the boys tomorrow. Then you can cackle your head off. See if I care.”
“Of course, Ray,” she said, calming down a little. “I wouldn’t want to spoil my brother’s chances of getting laid-by his boss.”
***
Ray’s first night with Harding was incredible. Harding was a fucking genius.
Yeah, that was…that was a very fitting description.
The next morning Harding was still brilliant.
“I don’t think I can move a limb for the rest of the day,” Ray said.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Harding replied. Proudly.
He stretched out an arm to take something from the drawer. (Please, Ray thought, not again). “I bought you something.” Ray was handed a small box. “Open it.”
He felt a flare of panic. Harding was great. Ray had no complaints about Harding’s skills as a lover. On the contrary, he wouldn’t have any problem writing long enthusiastic letters home about them (which his mother would be shocked to read, of course). He could handle some romance too-as long as it didn’t become tacky. Wearing Harding’s ring would definitely be tacky though. Oh, jesus.
The wrapping paper looked rather plain-which was a relief of some kind. Ray lifted the lid of the box and braced himself.
For the sight of two earplugs.
Harding laughed. Homerically.
Ray felt giddy with relief and infatuation. “Are you proposing to me?”
“Yes,” Harding said seriously. “Yes, I am. Move in with me. With us.”
***
Ray checked out of his hotel and moved in with Harding and the boys. His permanent presence didn’t seem to surprise the kids in the least. They all got along fine, and everything was greatness, as Stanley would put it.
One thing bothered Ray though. It was clear that the boys were sexually active. The present Harding gave him couldn’t keep it a secret that they were very much that: active.
Ray was a parent now too, and he thought it would be wise to educate the kids about sex.
“I think it’s time we told the boys about the birds and the bees,” he said one Sunday afternoon.
Harding stared at him. “Sweetheart, don’t you think they have long found out what they think they need to know?”
“I think they have to know about safe sex. Also, it wouldn’t be any harm if we developed their general knowledge by telling them about this weird inclination known as heterosexuality. And its reproductive purposes.”
“Do you really think this is necessary?” Harding said doubtfully.
“I do. And seeing as you’re the dad, and I’m just the, um, uncle, you may do the honors.”
The boys were in the living room, captivated by their books. They were both dedicated library visitors and keen readers. Stanley devoured anything-as long as it was comics. Benton seemed to have set himself the goal of having read all classic English novels before the arrival of his thirteenth’s birthday. He was currently absorbed in D.H. Lawrence’s ‘Sons and Lovers’.
Ray felt the momentary urge to smack him on the head with Stanley’s X-men to make him take on a healthier hobby for somebody his age.
Harding cleared his throat. “Listen, guys,” he said. “You know about sex, don’t you?”
The boys turned pink, exchanged glances, looked away, obviously feeling guilty and caught.
Oh jeez. Surely they couldn’t be naïve enough to think that their activities would go unnoticed?
Harding threw him a mean ‘You and your great ideas’ glance, and said hastily, “There’s nothing wrong with that, guys. Even adults have sex occasionally.”
The boys clearly could have done without this last piece of information. Stanley looked positively aghast.
“Ray and I want to talk to you about the, um, the birds and the bees,” Harding said. “First you have to know that, although this household may serve as an example of the opposite, normally when it comes to human mating men choose women and women choose men.”
“Like Frannie and Renfield,” Stanley said. He sounded a little doubtful, and Ray understood him well. Frannie and Turnbull were not the first people who came to mind when ‘normal’ was considered.
“Ye-es,” Harding affirmed hesitantly. “At any rate, when a man and a woman have sex, pregnancy can occur.”
Duh, Stanley’s face was saying. You think we’re dumb or something?
What he said was, “Yeah. A man can put his dick in a woman’s vagina. She has eggs, and when he comes, his cum gets to one of the eggs and a baby grows.”
“By processes that are called mitosis and meiosis respectively,” Benton put in. “Mitosis means that-”
Harding shook his head quickly. “Not now, Fraser. Some other time, please.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Right,” Harding said. “Clearly the birds and the bees are old news to you. How about safe sex and condoms?”
“We don’t need condoms,” Stanley said immediately. “We are mon … mono … I have sex only with Ben, and Ben has sex only with me. So we can’t get Aids.”
“Things can change over time,” Ray put in cautiously. “It might be a good idea to-”
“No, it won’t,” Stanley said determined. “Nothing will change. Ben and me are forever.”
“Yeah, but …”
He stopped. If looks could kill Ray would be a dead man now. Stanley wasn’t putting his protest into words, but the expression on his face was screaming, ‘Ben and me won’t need condoms! Ever!’
“Right,” Ray said.
“So you guys have no more questions?” Harding inquired.
Stanley shrugged. “We’re going to need more lube sometime soon.”
Ray stared at him. “More lube?”
Stanley nodded. “We bought some last week. ‘s Great stuff. Spit’s okay, but lube …”
He sighed contently, the look on his face one of sheer delight. In fact, Ray thought shocked, it qualified as pornographic.
“Where did you get the money?”
“Renfield gave it to us, for babysitting.”
“Babysitting?”
“The night we stayed at Frannie’s,” Stanley said. “Renfield thought it would be nice to take her out to a movie, so Ben and I looked after the babies.”
“And she agreed to let you?”
“At first she didn’t, but then Ben explained to her that it would be okay.”
Of course. If at twelve Benton’s powers of explanation were even thirty percent of their adult potential, Frannie hadn’t stood a chance.
“How did the two of you manage six babies?” Harding asked.
“We bathed them,” Benton replied. “They like to be bathed. Then we put them to bed. They slept very soundly. We mopped the bathroom floor after the bathing of course.”
Ray was impressed. So was Harding. In fact, they both were dumbstruck for several seconds.
“Can we go now?” Stanley asked impatiently.
Harding startled, then nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
The boys left the room; sons, lovers, and X-men discarded and forgotten.
“You realize, of course, that they are throwing themselves a nice little intimate lube party right now, don’t you?” Ray said.
“Yes.” Harding nodded slowly, as though he still hadn’t completely recovered from the shock. Then he shook his head energetically, smiled, and pulled Ray in his lap. “We could do that too.”
“We could indeed,” Ray smiled back. He leisurely kissed Harding’s lips, feeling home, happy, and horny in a lazy ‘we have all the time of the world to enjoy this, and we will,’ kind of way.’
Soon he didn’t feel very lazy anymore. Harding was doing…things.
Before Ray let himself drown in pleasure, he wondered briefly about Victoria. There were only two options, really. She was one rookie witch, or she was an angel in disguise. Either way, she had his eternal gratitude.
END