Flesh Wound: Afterthought

"Fraser."

"Mm?" Fraser was eating biryani from the takeout carton while watching the Maple Leafs on Ray's television. Very little of his attention was directed towards the conversation or his partner on the couch next to him, eating shrimp saag from another carton.

"How long've you had this thing for handcuffs?"

"Wait, wait," Fraser leaned in towards the television, "Oh!" as the goalie caught the shot. "What did you say, Ray?"

"Handcuffs."

Fraser gestured with his fork, "They're over there, with your gun, Ray." He hadn't taken his eyes off the game yet.

A commercial came on, and Ray turned off the tv. "You can run but you can't fool all the people all the time, Fraser, and you can't fool me. You and handcuffs. What's the deal?"

Fraser seemed to consider for a moment, then put down the biryani. "Why do you want to know?"

"Partners means sharing, Fraser." Ray'd shifted so that he had one leg up on the couch, facing Fraser directly. His partner turned slightly to face him now. Houston, we have eye contact!

"Not everything, Ray."

"Hey, if it affects how you," Ray gestured, "when we're up close with the bad guys, then I need to know." Ray leaned forward.

"It doesn't. It won't." Fraser, the stone wall.

Ray tapped the back of the couch with his ring finger, prestissimo, unconscious of the movement. "You jump off buildings and walk up to criminals with loaded guns, if you do that because you get a thrill out of it, I want to know. I need to know that, Fraser, or I won't be able to back you up!"

"But you do back me up, quite efficiently. Unless you are volunteering to be involved, my personal life is not open to discussion, Ray."

Ray started to respond, froze, and just looked at him. "Is that some subtle Canadian pickup line? 'Volunteering to be involved,' oh yeah."

Fraser blinked. "I, ah, I hadn't meant it as such."

"But you figure I'm not involved in your personal life now? Look at your social life, Fraser -- when I look at it, I pretty much see me and nobody else. When do you have time for a personal life that doesn't involve me?"

"I read, I go to concerts -- I have a rich interior life, Ray."

"You mean you live in your head, and don't let anybody else in, and go to sleep alone every night."

"Perhaps."

"Makes for a lonely Mountie. But what if I did, what if I was volunteering? You let me in then?"

"You would accept a sexual proposition from another man?"

Ray shrugged, "I might. I'll try anything, and hey," that wicked smile, "I'm flexible."

"Ray," Fraser finally gave in to the urge to crack his neck, even though it meant looking away from Ray. "If this is merely a matter of satisfying your curiousity, I suggest you reconsider. The potential for damage to our partnership is, well, enormous."

"You think that's all this is about, Fraser? That's not it." Ray stood, skirted the coffeetable, caught the foil-covered naan as it began to fall off the edge, paced to the window and back. "Well okay, not all of it, not by a long shot. I got the handcuffs, but I don't know if I've got all the equipment" he gestured vaguely -- in the direction of his crotch, "you're looking for. I don't volunteer where I'm not wanted, you know? Bad for my health."

"So you're waiting. . . "

"I'm waiting to be asked, Fraser."

"And if I did ask?"

"How long are we gonna whack around the shrubbery here?" Ray leaned over the back of the couch, grasped Fraser's shoulder momentarily, then backed off again. "If you're proposing, then I'm volunteering."

Fraser smiled. A small smile, but genuine and sweet. "Thank you, Ray."

" 'Thank you Ray.' -- what's that in American? Is that a yes, a no, or a maybe?"

"I, ah, need some time for my interior life to catch up with your surprising and generous offer."

Ray sighed. "Not generous, Fraser. Just the way things are." Ray stooped to the coffee table and picked up the (unused) plates. In the kitchen doorway he stopped. "Listen, if your interior life wants to come out and play, you know where to find me. And I've got those cuffs with me, 24/7."

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