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"Ray. Ray, wake up, quickly."
Ray clawed his way out of his hard-won sleep to find Fraser standing in the shadows at his bedroom window, wearing only boxers and a wide, streetlight-gilded smile. As Ray slowly levered himself to something resembling a sitting position, Fraser held out a hand toward the open window.
"Ray, look. It's raining."
It had been blistering hot all week, and humid enough that a few times, Ray had been pretty sure his sweat was sweating. Which was especially crappy timing because his ma and his sisters and the rest of the Vecchio cast of thousands were on one of their periodic pilgrimages to Florida to increase their chances of skin cancer and stock up on new gossip, and he'd been looking forward to spending some quality time with Fraser without worrying about his family's complete disregard for closed doors, not to mention Ray's status as patriarch. In fact, Ray had had wild visions of christening every room in his house, but with the heat, he and Fraser had barely been able to stand touching each other. So apart from a few precious hours spent necking in the back of the movie theater (I've always wanted to see a double-feature, Ray, Fraser had said innocently after the first movie was over), they'd mostly been lying around in their own sweat—at Fraser's apartment, no less, since it got less sun than Ray's house—and wondering what they'd done to deserve this kind of punishment. (Well, Fraser always had a laundry list of things he'd done wrong, so he probably wasn't wondering, but Ray figured he was angry enough at the injustice of Mother Nature for both of them.)
Now, though, despite the warmth still hanging in the air, there was a blessedly cool breeze blowing through the window, chilling the sweat-damp sheets against Ray's skin and making him shiver just enough for a thrill. Lightning flashed, giving him a quick, sharp snapshot of Fraser's face and naked torso, and a few seconds later, a low rumble of thunder rolled its way over their heads.
Fraser was grinning like a kid standing at the gates of Wrigley, and Ray couldn't help grinning back.
He slid out of bed, padding on bare feet across the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dief, head up, eyes bright, tongue hanging out, obviously enjoying the storm as much as Fraser was. Ray could hear the rain clearly now, pounding against the fire escape. He stepped up behind Fraser, slipped both arms around his waist, and Fraser made a small, happy sound and leaned back into Ray's chest.
"Nice change," Ray murmured, after a few silent moments watching the show.
"Mmm," Fraser agreed. Then, "You know, Diefenbaker is still having some trouble adjusting to the Chicago heat, and as such, he's been quite lax about his fitness regimen of late. Perhaps some exercise would do him good, while the weather is cooperating."
Ray smiled. A couple of months, they'd been together now, and partners for quite a bit longer than that; he was getting pretty good at translating Formal Fraser-Speak. He put his chin on Fraser's shoulder. "Benny."
"Yes?"
"If you want to go for a walk in the rain with me, just say so."
Fraser hesitated, then laughed a little. "Ray," he said, his voice low underneath the steady patter of water. "Would you like to come for a walk in the rain with me?"
Truth be told, Ray wasn't that anxious to go anywhere, what with having finally convinced Fraser that the bed was superior to the bedroll and the forecast looking good for actually being able to take advantage of that for once, but when Fraser asked in that tone… "Sure," he said. "Hang on, I'll get dressed."
*****
Ray had to admit, Fraser hadn't been entirely full of it about Dief—the wolf looked like he'd dropped a couple of decades in dog years, tromping through puddles with his tail spraying wet-wolf-smelling droplets on everything within range. Ray was safely out of range, of course, and carrying an umbrella like a normal person, while Fraser walked a few feet away, apparently unconcerned by either Dief's tail or the downpour. But he looked happy, and the rain was making his jeans and soft Henley shirt cling to him in some pretty intriguing places, so Ray figured he could handle being the sole champion of sanity.
As usual.
"We're almost there," Fraser told him, walking a little faster. Ray was keeping an eye out for anything fishy—they were out of Fraser's immediate neighborhood now, into more of a residential area, but it was almost two in the morning and they weren't that far from Fraser's neighborhood—but the streets were deserted. Apparently even criminals didn't want to be out in a thunderstorm.
"Almost where?" Ray wondered, but then they came around a corner and he saw it immediately: a small, walled garden, with a wrought-iron gate. Fraser pulled a key from the pocket of his jeans.
"Mr. and Mrs. Fortinsky are away for the weekend," he explained, opening the gate, "but they recently offered to let me have free use of their garden in appreciation for me having rescued their cat from an unfortunate—Diefenbaker," he said sharply. Dief paused in his headlong rush toward the rosebushes climbing in thick green ropes over the walls. "I'm not pulling thorns out of your extremities again," Fraser told him, "so if you must stick your nose into everything, do so at your own risk."
Dief whuffed and went over to sniff a hydrangea.
"Pretty impressive," Ray commented, looking around. He'd never been much for gardening, aside from the occasional window box of spices, so he didn't know the names of most of the plants, but they were lush and plentiful, filling the small space with color even in the near-dark. "Guess they must be happy for the—" He turned around to see Fraser placing his shoes in a neat line against the wall. "What are you doing?"
"In order to fully experience the storm, Ray, one must have direct contact with the earth," said Fraser. As Ray watched, he planted his feet in the grass beneath him, tipped his face up to the sky and took a deep breath.
"OK," Ray said skeptically. "Does the earth have any feelings about summer colds? Because I had one of those when I was a kid, and it ruined my whole summer, couldn't go swimming, couldn't go—"
He was just passing the time, really, just filling the silence, but when Fraser lowered his head he had a strange, wild light in his eyes, and before Ray knew it Fraser had splashed his way across the short space between them and pressed his hot mouth to Ray's, the contrast of cool slick fingers on Ray's face and warm wet tongue in Ray's mouth making Ray melt against him immediately, no choice about it whatsoever. It had been a long, wasted week and everything slid into the background except Fraser's body pressed along the length of Ray's, all hard muscle and trembling on the edge of control. Ray didn't even realize he'd dropped his umbrella until Fraser sank to his knees on the ground at Ray's feet and Ray had to blink hard to clear the rain out of his eyelashes, because if Fraser was going to go down on him in the rain in the middle of the night, Ray sure as hell wanted a good view.
When Fraser just ran his hands slowly down Ray's legs and started working at the laces of Ray's shoes instead, it was a little tough to shift gears.
"Benny," he tried.
"Yes, Ray," Fraser answered, in that I-will-listen-earnestly-to-your-complaint-while-forging-ahead-with-exactly-what-I-want-anyway tone he'd perfected.
"I don't need to experience the storm."
"On the contrary, Ray, I think that it's quite important." And Ray had to grab Fraser's shoulder for balance as Fraser unceremoniously picked up his foot and slid off his left shoe and sock.
"Benny—" Ray protested, feeling way too much like a horse being shoed—or de-shoed, he guessed—for his comfort, and then he wobbled and had to put his foot down and the cold grass and dirt squelched between his toes. "Awww," Ray started, but then the sensation started to sink in, and… huh. Experimentally, he shifted more of his weight to his bare foot.
Huh, he thought again. After several days of nothing but relentless, sticky heat, the cool earth actually felt… kind of good. And it smelled nice, too, he noticed suddenly, fresh and green and growing, with Fraser's aftershave layered underneath.
Fraser was watching him. "I see," he said solemnly, and then moved on to Ray's other shoe. Ray rolled his eyes and nudged Fraser's shoulder with a knee.
"Isn't smugness unbecoming of a Mountie?" he asked, unable to hide a grin.
"You know, oddly enough, that's not expressly addressed in any official documentation," Fraser said. When he tipped his head to the side to get a better angle on a stubborn, wet lace, Ray could just see the edge of his smile.
A few seconds later, Ray was standing in his bare feet in the rain-soaked grass, water streaming down his neck and his clothes plastered to his body and Fraser standing in front of him, looking as happy as Ray had ever seen him. Fraser went around a lot of the time sort of… dimmed, like a hundred candles burning behind a screen, and in the rare moments when he took the screen away, he was so bright it almost hurt Ray's eyes.
"So this is experiencing the storm," Ray offered, a little dizzy.
Fraser nodded. "Indeed."
"Did you maybe want to—" and before Ray could even finish asking, Fraser was kissing him again, sweet and deep and slow with the rain pouring down around them.
When they finally broke apart, Ray was half-surprised there wasn't any steam rising between them. "You're nuts," he said, his hands tangled in the sodden collar of Fraser's shirt.
"I know," Fraser replied; his mouth was quirked up wryly on one side, and his eyes were shining.
"I kinda like that about you," Ray admitted softly, and kissed him this time, shivering when Fraser shuddered against him and moaned into his mouth. Ray let his hands wander, sliding over Fraser's back, pressing him closer, wanting more.
"I think we should go home now," Fraser murmured eventually, breathlessly, hard against Ray's hip, mouthing a warm trail up Ray's jawline. "I've heard that summer colds can be a danger here, and skin-to-skin contact is the most efficient way of retaining warmth."
Ray grinned. "So responsible, Benny," he said, "I like that about you, too." He pulled away with an effort, looked down appraisingly at his shoes and socks. He guessed he should care that they were probably ruined, but what the hell. At the moment, it seemed like a pretty small price to pay.
Fraser was watching him again. "It's several blocks back to my building, Ray. There could be all manner of debris in the street. Walking barefoot in those conditions is a considerable health hazard."
Ray shrugged. "You got a first aid kit, right? Eye of newt, toe of frog, all that stuff?"
"Something like that," Fraser answered, a slow smile blooming.
"Then come on," Ray insisted, "I'm still experiencing, here," and he leaned down, picked up his shoes, and reached out to link Fraser's wet fingers with his.