Notes: Deleted scene from Manhunt; won't make much sense if you don't know that episode.
"Would you drive me home, Ray? I've got an early start tomorrow." Fraser looked young and tired, and Ray's heart ached for him. Fraser was on a mission to save everyone in Chicago — including some illegal immigrant Canadian friend of his pop's. It had to sting when the old guy refused to be helped.
They rode in silence for a while, Fraser drooping in the passenger street. "We'll find Geiger," Ray told him eventually, talking for the sake of talking. "No way are we letting that scumbag roam free in my city."
Fraser smiled tiredly. "I know."
"Hey." Ray pulled over to the kerb. "Don't take it so hard." He put his hand on Fraser's arm. It was meant to be just a reassuring pat, but then Fraser looked over at him, his eyes big and sad, and Ray pulled him into a hug. All this trouble with Frobisher had to be bringing up stuff about his pop.
Fraser pulled back. "Frobisher and my father were partners for nearly thirty years, Ray. He's the last—" He broke off and rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry. It's late."
"Yeah." Ray pulled the key from the ignition. He couldn't leave Fraser like this. "Come on, I'll walk you up."
Fraser didn't argue, and that in itself was cause to worry. Ray kept a close eye on him on the way up the stairs. Fraser started telling some story about his pop getting stuck in a bear trap, and Frobisher finding him and carrying him home.
Ray followed Fraser through his front door, and watched while he gave Dief a bowl of water. "I wish I could make you feel better, Benny," he said, helplessly.
Fraser looked up quickly. "You do." And then he flushed and looked away. "I'm fine."
Out of nowhere, that flush was giving Ray ideas, ideas he hadn't let himself think about before. Up until now, Fraser had been like a younger brother, blowing in out of nowhere on an icy northern wind and making himself right at home in Ray's city and his life. But that flush, that look he'd caught a glimpse of in Fraser's eye — Ray wasn't feeling anything like brotherly now. He didn't know what to do about it, though. What if he was wrong?
Dief looked up from his water bowl, his muzzle wet, and stared at Ray for a minute, then whuffed softly at Fraser and trotted into the corner to curl up on his rug.
"What was that?" asked Ray. He clenched his car keys. He should go home.
Fraser shook his head. "He's just— grabbing the wrong end of the stick. Goodnight, Ray. Thanks for the ride." He moved to open the door, to let Ray out into the night.
Ray put his hand on the door and held it shut. "Hey. Uh, this might be out of line, Benny. Just say if it is, and we'll forget it—"
Fraser raised his eyebrows and waited.
"—but—" Ray didn't know what to say, so he leaned in and kissed Fraser's cheek, warm soft skin against his lips.
Fraser inhaled sharply in surprise, and then his hand landed on Ray's arm and he turned his head and met Ray's lips with his own for a brief precious second, before pulling back, apologies already spilling out of his mouth.
"Hey!" Ray's throat had closed up, his whole world turning inside out, but he forced the words out anyway. "You may be sorry, but I'm sure as hell not." And he pushed Fraser against the closed door, and kissed him and kissed him, heedless of his keys falling to the floor, aware only that Fraser's arms were around him, and Fraser was kissing him back.