Note: Written for Out of Con.Txt. Many thanks to China_Shop & JustBreathe80 for the excellent betas! NC-17.
Ray and Fraser climbed the stairs together in fits and starts. Fraser kept giggling, and it cracked Ray up so much every time that he had to stop and kiss the giggles right out of him.
All the stopping and kissing meant that not that many steps were getting climbed all that quickly—but that was okay. It was after eleven on Wednesday morning and they'd been up all night nailing Vik Ivanov on a mountain of conspiracy and extortion charges until he finally rolled over on a much bigger Russian mob deal. It was their best collar all year; Welsh was so happy he even let Frannie throw a party in the squad room, but Ray and Fraser had been up for ages and everyone knew it, so it wasn't a big deal when they begged off.
'Course that didn't stop them from making out like teenagers as soon as they got in the car and away from the station. It didn't keep Fraser from rubbing hard through the front of his jeans while he was trying to drive them home, not until Ray threatened to drive into Jerry's fruit stand if he didn't cut it out.
And that didn't keep Ray from reaching out and stroking Fraser through the front of his pumpkin pants while Fraser's head fell back and his mouth fell open, spilling Ray's name in a helpless chant.
So, yeah, Ray's parking job outside his building didn't look like much, but Fraser was too busy shoving Ray's jeans open and sucking his cock to criticize. It took half a minute. Then Ray did Fraser, and that was even faster. And then they kissed, hard, tasting their come in each other's mouths and kissing even harder because that was so hot.
They sat back to breathe for a second and Ray started chuckling in amazement because he was hard again. Then Fraser started, too, and in seconds they were nearly in tears with laughter, because the edge was gone but it still wasn't even close to enough.
They fixed their pants and then kissed some more. Ray said, "Uh, how 'bout we go inside?" And Fraser started giggling, so Ray had to kiss him again.
Eventually they reached the third floor landing, and never had Ray been so grateful that most people in his building were either gainfully employed or addicted to daytime television. Fraser was leaning on him and had his hand down the back of Ray's pants, and yeah, it was technically hidden by Ray's coat, but— "Will you just hang on a sec?" he hissed, fumbling with his keys with one hand and tugging Fraser's arm free with the other. Fraser didn't answer, except to stroke Ray through the outside of his pants this time and hum against Ray's neck, buzzing the back of his ear and making Ray's knees go weak.
"Jesus, God," Ray murmured into Fraser's mouth as he pushed the door open.
Something shattered, and Ray opened his eyes to see his mother standing in the kitchen, a broken coffee mug lying in pieces at her feet.
They stood there gaping at each other for a moment that felt pretty much like forever, and then her eyes went to Fraser and back to Ray.
"My goodness," she said, with a soft shake of her head.
And it was like a spell broke or something, so, flustered, he grabbed Fraser around the waist and hauled him inside because no way was he doing this alone. He pushed the door shut and said, "Um, hi Mum. Uh, wow. I didn't think you'd do the laundry today." He took Fraser's hat and laid it on the counter, then he stepped over the broken crockery, saying, "Don't move, let me get this. Have you met Fraser? Fraser, this is my mum." He got the dustpan from under the sink and swept up in record time.
"Very nice to meet you, ma'am," Fraser managed.
"There you go," Ray said, standing. His mother was smiling tentatively at Fraser, wearing her polite-but-curious face, and only blushing a little. "Lunch?" he said, a little desperately, just as she introduced herself and shook Fraser's hand.
"I've heard so much about you," she said, and Christ, why did this have to happen today? But at least it was just her, at least it wasn’t his dad.
He opened the fridge and called out, "Sandwiches okay? I can do sandwiches." She was saying something else to Fraser, and he laid a row of fixings on the counter.
"Ray, why don't I see you later?" Fraser said from the other side of the bar. He looked mortified. "I'm sure—"
"Oh no, you need to eat," Barbara said, "just look at you both!"
"Mum," Ray said.
"Let me help," she said, and took the deli package of roast beef out of his hands. Then she sniffed and eyed his rumpled clothes. "Are you just now getting in?"
"Uh, yeah. Late night bust, all night interrogation, morning victory dance…we didn’t get a chance to—"
"Go clean up, both of you. Then we'll eat." She gave him the same stern look she used when he was eight years old and didn’t want to come in from playing stickball, and all he could do was duck his head and say, "Okay, okay."
He took the first shower while Fraser paced the bedroom and freaked the hell out, then he put Fraser into the shower and went back to the kitchen, where he watched his mother heat soup. She didn't say anything, just stirred until the soup started bubbling. Then she turned off the heat and turned to face him.
She looked weirdly calm. Serene, even, and not even close to surprised now that the initial shock was over.
"Are you happy?" she asked, and Ray nodded because it was all he could do. He couldn't speak through the lump in his throat, so he nodded again. Then she reached out a hand to him, and he let her hug him close.
Stepping back, she smiled up at him and said, "You're a grown man. I want you to be happy."
"I am," Ray said, and cleared his throat. "He's…I really am."
"Good," she said. "Get the dishes?" He laughed in relief, and she laughed, too. Then she said as he opened the cabinet, "No, I'll get them. You go get your boyfriend out of that bathroom."
Ray accidentally slammed the cabinet. "Partner, mum. Partner."
"Yes, dear," she said, patting his arm, "your partner."
Ray rubbed his head and went to drag his boyfriend out of hiding.