Ray Vecchio fic, 3000 words

[exeterlinden]

Dinner Date

 
Pairing: RayV/Fraser

Rating: PG for language

 Author's notes: Thank you to my beta, secret_garden for being so helpful and friendly, and extraordinarily efficient . This was written  for nakeisha, and is my contribution to the 2005 ds_seekritsanta.

 

He had been thinking about Belardi's – they'd gone there often, he knew Fraser liked it. It was one of the few places in town you could get a decent Italian style pizza; thin ciabatta crust, tomato sauce and spices, a sprinkling of cheese. But Belardi's was loud, the tables were crammed together in the tiny restaurant, and most nights they had live music.

A good place for a first date, if you were serious about it, if you wanted to show her home territory. But not for this.

Bellissima was another option. The food was excellent, and he kind of liked taking Fraser out to eat something good, because for a man who probably had pemmican and lichen for dinner most days, the Mountie really enjoyed a good meal. But then again, Bellissima was expensive, and while he could have had twenty-five grand right now; thanks to fate and poultry, he had ended up with bupkis.

Italian Village had decent food and good service. The only thing Ray didn't like about it was the fact that the place tried too hard for the authentic look and ended up looking like something out of Lady and the Tramp.

In the end, though, he opted for Village. The place was busy, but had booths where you could talk in private. He found the number for the place in the yellow pages and called them up from his desk phone, only to find out that he couldn't reserve in advance. Well, they would just have to go there and hope that the timing was right.

He called the Consulate, held his breath through Benny's "The Canadian Consulate of Chicago, Constable Benton Fraser speaking, how may I be of assistance?"

And, not bothering to introduce himself, said, "Fraser, I'm taking you out to eat tonight, pick you up at seven, dress smart."

"Understood, Ray, I'll see you at seven. Dressed smartly." He could hear the joke beneath Fraser's deadpan tone of voice and found himself smiling stupidly into the phone.

"Okay Benny."

He hung up just in time before Welsh came out to ask about the status on the Buxley case, and all the other cases lying half finished in neat piles on his desk.


Ray was too lazy to go home first, so he ended up staying at the precinct, writing up not only the Buxley case, but also the Loop petty thefts, and the Gold Coast break-ins. He handed them over to Elaine, wondering in passing if she ever had time off.

He called home to tell his mother not to worry, that he was eating out tonight, flinching involuntarily at her eloquent, long-suffering sigh that he knew to carry many different meanings, among which the heavy guns went along the lines of "don't you like your own mother's cooking," and "when do we get to meet any of these women you take out, why don't you settle down, marry, start producing grandchildren?"

He went to the men's room to check how he looked. Handsome, well dressed, and just a little bit bad.

Which wasn't bad at all.

He went back out, got his coat and set off.


In his car on the way there he had time to feel nervous. He wasn't real smooth with the man-to-man talks. His father had never talked to him about anything, except when he'd been drunk and tried to tell him everything.

And Fraser wasn't just any other guy. But he had made up his mind to grab the bull by its horns.

When he pulled up outside the building, Fraser was already on the sidewalk, waiting. He had dressed up, Ray noticed, as much as the Mountie ever did, wearing that nice white sweater and newly pressed jeans. He was twirling his hat in his hands and even in the half light Ray could tell that he was nervous, which was odd, because usually Fraser only looked nervous when women were hitting on him, which was part of what Ray wanted to talk to him about tonight.

Ray leaned over to open the door on the passenger seat. Fraser was there in three steps, got in and fastened his seatbelt.

"So, where are we going, Ray?"

"Italian Village."

"Ah. Excellent mostaccioli."

And those were the only words exchanged during the drive there.


They were in luck and got a booth at the far end of the restaurant, away from the windows. Ray ordered without looking through the menu. Fraser read the entire thing from front to back before ordering the mostaccioli with herb sausage in broken Italian. Nina the waitress giggled flirtatiously and brought him a glass of red wine on the house. Ray was pretty sure Nina herself didn't speak Italian. The glass of wine stood untouched beside Fraser's plate.

Half way through the meal Nina came over to ask if everything was alright. Her eyes were fixed on Fraser. She kept fingering the pendant in her necklace that hung hidden inside the deep vee of her shirt, which seemed to have opened up by a couple of buttons since she took their order.

A few minutes later she brought them a complimentary side dish of insalata caprese, and on the edge of the plate - slightly stained with oil - a little note with Nina and a phone number written in girly, swirly letters.

"I think that's for you, Fraser."

Fraser eyed the note with brows furrowed, picked it up and looked at it for a long time before folding it neatly and putting it inside the band of his hat.

"I'll hold onto it, in case she ever needs… In case I can…"

He trailed off, ran a thumb across his eyebrow. It was probably the best opening Ray was going to get.

"Yeah, yeah…Hey, Fraser, I'm hurt."

Fraser straightened up from putting the hat away, already looking stricken with guilt.

"Why, Ray?"

Ray put down his fork, picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth carefully. He really wasn't trying to torture Fraser, but this was difficult.

"You can tell Frannie about your personal life, but you can't tell me?"

Fraser pursed his mouth, raised his brow, let out a deep breath,

"Ray, I haven't the faintest idea what you…"

No use in trying for subtlety on this one, Ray realized.

"Look, Frannie told me that you didn't sleep with her that time."

"Ah."

"…She told me that you told her that you wouldn't sleep with her because you're gay."

"Oh."

He made the Mountie change a syllable. He wondered perversely if that was all he was going to get out of this conversation.

Ray took a quick look around to see if anyone was listening, but the place was unusually empty. Nina was over in the other end of the restaurant fingering her pendant at some well dressed man dining alone and looking interested, which made Ray kind of happy. Good for Nina.

Across from him, Fraser found his voice, leaned forward and quietly said, "Well, I might have…"

And then stopped, but for once Ray couldn't help him finish the sentence - he had no idea what went in the blanks this time.

"I may have somewhat exaggerated that statement for the sake of sparing Francesca's feelings," Benny finally said, splaying out his fingers in a motion that indicated smoothing something over. Ray had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

"But the truth of it is that yes, I seem to find myself attracted to members of my own sex as often as - well more often, to be honest - so essentially…"

"You're gay," Ray filled in, quickly, wanting it laid out in plain view.

"Bisexual. I'm bisexual," Fraser said, sounding calm, but with eyes firmly fixed on his hands.

Ray let out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding. Frannie had thought he was going to freak out, which, okay, he had a little, at first. But here he was, being cool about it. Being a modern, cultural guy in touch with his feminine side. True, it was a little weird, but thinking about it, Fraser was weird in so many other ways that he had gotten used to. And if you looked at it that way it wasn't such a big deal. Just another thing to get used to.

"Okay, I'm okay with that," He said truthfully, feeling pretty proud. That'd gone well.

Now that it was over and done with, Ray was willing to move on, talk about the Buxley case, tell Benny how he had been right about the Loop petty thief being connected to the Gold Coast break-ins.

Except, Fraser smiled at him, nodded slightly, and asked,

"… And you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you?"

He had missed a turn in this conversation, somehow. He stared at Fraser for a long time. He became aware of his hand with his fork halfway to his mouth and put it down with a clink on his mostly empty plate. "Am I what?"

A flush spread lightning fast up Fraser's neck - creeping onto his cheeks - and disappeared just as quickly, which was all weird because Mounties didn't blush. At least, this Mountie didn't. Ever. Not even for strippers or flirty waitresses.

"Are you… that way inclined?"

He stared at Benny in incomprehension.

"Jesus, Fraser, I'm Italian!"

"I don't believe those two things are mutually exclusive, Ray."

"They are where I come from." Two boys had held Marco down while Frankie had dribbled a ball all over his face for five minutes straight. And nobody did anything - mostly because they were scared of Frank Zuko and his father - but also because Marco was a finocchio pansy boy and somehow had it coming.

Fraser was about to say something more, but then suddenly Nina was by their table, clearing off their empty plates. Ray wondered if she had heard anything. It didn't seem like it, she smiled at them, asked them if they wanted desserts, coffee.

Hell no, Ray just wanted to take this conversation somewhere else.

Standing up he put down a couple of twenty-dollar bills on the table, leaving a tip big enough for Nina to suddenly direct her flirty smile at him, and motioned for Fraser to follow. Benny stood up immediately, and placed his hat on his head with overt precision.

They walked out in silence, but as soon as the restaurant door closed behind them, Ray turned to face Fraser.

"Look, Benny, I was married!"

"So was I, Ray, in everything but name, if you remember" All of a sudden Fraser looked pale and unhappy. Damn, he hadn't meant to bring that up, but it was just… Something was off with this conversation, and Ray couldn't really figure out what. He started off down the street towards the Riv, longing to be lulled in the calming routine of being behind the wheel.

"Ray. Ray. Ray. I… I know how you feel. I also grew up in an environment where homosexuality was…"

And finally Ray was able to pinpoint what was so weird about this conversation.

"Benny, I told you I'm not. Don't tell me you are arguing the point."

"Actually Ray, you…"

One look at Ray's face and Benny cut himself off. They reached the car and Ray unlocked it. They got inside and buckled up in silence.

And then Fraser surprised him by saying, "Ray, I'm sorry."

The Mountie was sitting up straight, hands on his thighs, eyes fixed on something straight ahead, looking tight-lipped and forlorn.

"I didn't mean to be, ah, niggling… Only, it would seem that I have been laboring under a misapprehension. I thought that you, that we…" He trailed off, seeming at a loss for words, which was as un-Mountie like as being queer. Fraser straightened up even further in his seat, and cast a visibly nervous glance at Ray. "I was hoping that your dinner invitation this evening carried with it some implications that I see now were entirely imagined on my part. Obviously I haven't made my, ah, advances clear enough to you."

Ray had already opened his mouth to ask what he was talking about, when all of a sudden he got it: Welsh asking Benny "Haven't you got anything better to do with your time? A date?" Benny saying "I have two axes." Benny smiling at him, wide and warm. Benny walking in stride with him, shoulder to shoulder.

Oh.

"Indeed," Fraser replied, so he must have said that out loud.

Ray started up the car with clumsy fingers, waiting a while before saying anything. He got himself settled into the calming routine of driving, handling the wheel, checking the mirrors. Turning onto Michigan Avenue, he wondered briefly where he was supposed to go, deciding to just drive straight ahead for now.

"So what you're saying is, you were putting the moves on me?"

Ray looked at Fraser out of the corner of his eye and saw him go through the entire catalog of nervous ticks: Sigh, sharp intake of breath, thumb across eyebrow, a sliver of tongue darting out to the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, I believe so, Ray." Fraser was looking more and more miserable by the minute. He turned his eyes back to the road, saw the turn-off for West Racine Street, indicated a left turn and made it, nice and smooth.

"Look, I'm sorry. I just don't do that, okay?"

"Okay, Ray, understood,"

Hell, he hadn't meant to hurt the guy. He didn't even know why he kept protesting so vehemently; after all, Fraser was gay. It wasn't like at the station or in the locker room, where people got suspicious if you didn't put enough effort into denying.

"How long?"

"How long what, Ray."

"You know what I mean… How long have you, you know…"

He could say it. He was a modern, cultural guy in touch with his feminine side, damn it.

"How long have I been attracted to you?"

Thank god.

"Yeah, that."

"Well, Ray, I would have to say… Since you shot me."

Ray couldn't help it - he threw his head back and laughed helplessly at the ceiling. He was aware that he sounded slightly hysterical. In front of them the sign of Duffy's Tavern appeared.

" Ray, I'm afraid I fail to see the joke." Fraser looked not only angry, but also hurt.

"I'm sorry, Benny, that's just so…"

Completely backwards, weird, illogical, tragic, funny,

"…us."

He stopped the car just before the bright yellow sign and the boarded up windows. At night Fraser's neighborhood looked even worse than in the daytime.

"Benny, I'm sorry."

He didn't know what else to say. The neon sign flickered, leaving them in darkness for a couple of seconds before switching back on.

"So am I, Ray,"

Fraser grabbed the Stetson from where he had placed it on the dashboard, and opened the car door. Ray wanted to stop him - maybe say something - but he didn't know quite what, and a moment after Benny was out, closing the door carefully and already disappearing into the shadow of the main entrance of his building.

Ray should get going. He reached to turn the ignition key.

He was still kind of shell-shocked with the revelations of the night.

At first, when Frannie had told him (and she had only told him because he kept asking, over and over), he had freaked. But then he'd been okay with it; if Benny was prepared to live like that, that was okay. But then this…

It wasn't like Ray hadn't ever thought about it. But that didn't have to mean anything.

Yeah, okay, he had given it some thought, but only because… Ray figured it went something like this: Every guy had the odd fantasy including another guy, and then that guy started worrying that maybe he was turning gay, and he'd tell himself to not think about, which was the big mistake, because then you couldn't stop thinking about it.

And that was all.

...Only it wasn't. Because something in his behavior had made Benny think that Ray was that way inclined.

After the incident on the basketball court, Marco had gone to the ER. In the days after, his face had been swollen and painfully discolored. His left brow had been closed with two stitches. And long after Marco had forgiven and pretended to forget, his parents had looked at all of the neighborhood kids with sad, blameful eyes.

It had taught Ray a lesson.

He let out a deep sigh, and turned the key in the ignition. On the first floor the lights turned on in Fraser's apartment. He pulled away from the curb and turned right in the intersection, heading back home.

There were things he hadn’t let himself think about in words for a long time - even if the images were there, as clear as photographs. Made life a lot easier.

Michigan Avenue was almost deserted. It was too quiet in the car, it made him antsy. He turned on the radio, surfed through the stations, but all of them were playing sad love songs. He turned the radio off and leaned back in his seat.

Yeah, there were things he hadn't let himself think about.

Like putting a hand on Benny's shoulder and accidentally running his index finger against the flexed tendon standing out just above the collar.

Like noticing Benny's pink tongue darting out across his lower lip when he was nervous.

Like being all too aware of the sweet, musky scent on Fraser that time he had opened the door half-dressed, with Victoria in there, in his apartment.

Like smiling like a goofball to see Fraser alive and snappy in that hospital bed after the Victoria ordeal. So damn relieved to have him back from her.

… Ray lifted his foot off the accelerator and pulled over to the side. He rested his head on the wheel for a couple of minutes before straightening up and turning the car around.


The lights were still on in Benny's apartment when he parked the car. The hall light was broken, but Ray knew his way well enough to make it up the stairs in the dark.

He knocked lightly on the door and Benny opened wearing only boxers and a white undershirt. Ray tried not to stare, before remembering that it was okay - that he could.

"Ray, what…?"

Ray tried to make out Fraser's expression in the backlighting.

"Look, Benny, I'm sorry."

Fraser, clearly baffled, said "No need to be, Ray. As you can see, I wasn't yet asleep."

Ray shook his head, "Not that."

And then - because Ray Vecchio wasn't a coward, because maybe he didn't want it easy, and because he was that way inclined – he leaned in and kissed Benny firmly.

Ray pulled back, squeezed Fraser's bare shoulders.

"Oh," Benny breathed out, licking his lips.

"Yeah," Ray replied smiling, and stepped inside.