----

Night strikes a vague harmony in this burning rush of streets and rain-wet city. I run across an empty street, with him just behind, and though there is not a trace of snow, on the ground or in the air, feel at home. Dief pads along behind us both.

"The tire tracks, right here," I tell him, pointing down, and watch as he slides in front of me, gun at the ready.

"How far?" he whispers, looking up at me with that air of I've-got-to-trust-you-don't-I that always sets off little fireworks inside me. I listen carefully.

"They just went by a minute ago, about," I answer, and we are off again, racing down the street in the shadow. He follows with a half-skeptical look.

"Here!" I say, and turn suddenly, to meet a dark alleyway.

And, inside it, our criminals, stolen car just being abandoned.

"Not fast enough," Ray says sarcastically to them, and before they know it, we have them.

----

"Pizza!" Ray demands later that night, and I, in no mood to deny him, follow obediently. Dief, traitor that he is, greets this proposal with unmitigated delight.

Over a large sausage supreme in the very back of the restaurant, we stare at each other, pretending we are not staring at each other, not talking.

"I don't want to talk about the case," Ray says at last, sounding a little annoyed.

"We haven't been," I say, wondering what has upset him.

"No," he continues. "We haven't been."

I simply cock my head.

"We always do, talk about the case, I mean," he goes on, ripping his napkin into shreds without seeming to think about it.

I take the napkin away. "Surely you can say what you are thinking without mutilating this innocent napkin," I say soberly, but he catches the twinkle of laughter in my eyes.

"You just made a joke!" he exclaims, clapping his hands. "I have to record this for posterity!"

"Now that your good humor seems to have been restored," I say, leaning forward, "perhaps you could tell me what weighs on your mind."

"No, no," he says, moving back. "It's nothing, it's..."

"If it has you destroying napkins, it's not nothing," I answer firmly. "What is it?"

He looks at his plate for a moment, then back up at me. "It's you," he says at last.

I'd been expecting the words for quite some time -- Fraser, Benny, you don't quite fit with me, you know, maybe you should find some other friends, another partner, you and I are just not well matched -- but I hadn't expected to hear that pleading, almost yearning, tone in his voice.

"What?" I say. The tone he's using and the words he's saying are so disparate that I cannot understand them.

He looks down again and this time does not look back up. "I...catchmyselfthinkingaboutyou," he says in a rush, almost under his breath.

"Thinking about me?" I ask, quietly, so as not to embarrass him, for whatever he may be sharing, it is obviously something important to him.

He looks back up, and perhaps my furrowed brow is what upsets him. "Thinking about you, yeah," he says, rather fiercely. "Jacking off to thoughts of you every night is more like it. Keeping my sister away from you because I don't think I could stand it if you fell in love with her." He shakes his head. "Not that you would, you have more sense than that, but..."

He is obviously rambling.

"Ray," I say it calmly.

"...you and I work together so well and I don't even know how and Benny, in spite of my..."

"Ray!" A little more forcefully.

"...lack of experience in this area, I'm pretty damn sure I've fallen in love with you..."

"Ray!" Loud enough to disturb the other diners now, but I'm past caring. He, finally, looks at me again.

"Ray, you don't have to get upset. It's not a big deal."

The words I tried to use to soothe do not have that effect.

"Oh, men fall in love with you all the time?" Ray asks sarcastically. "How many of your partners have fallen in love with you?"

"None that I know about, yet," I answer and then glance aside as if recalling. "There was one who I wondered about...rather recently, but I don't think I'm wondering any more."

"You knew!" Ray's tone is half accusing, half relieved.

"I wondered," I say, and it is the truth.

"It is a big deal, though," he says quietly, folding his arms in front of himself.

"Not really," I answer. "You don't have anyone you're romantically attached to, and neither do I. The only strange part about it is we're both male, and frankly my dear, that's not very strange."

"Not to you, perhaps," he says.

"It's not," I answer. "Not to anyone who wants it."

"Do I want it?" he says, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. He breathes in harshly as he looks at me, and desire is written naked across his face for a moment.

"I suppose the answer to that would be yes," he whispers, after we stare at each other for a long time. "And there's only one more question after that."

He looks at me, more vulnerable than I have ever seen him. "Do *you* want it?" he says.

I am already prepared with the answer.

"Yes," I say. "Yes, I do."

Ray glances back at the counter, where no one can be seen, then glances toward the windows, which already have the curtains down in preparation for closing.

Dief, lucky dog, is the only witness of our first kiss.

END