For Ben and Ray, everything should have changed last night.  Their one brief, interrupted kiss had brought out their true feelings, opening the door to an avenue that, as it turned out, they couldn't explore after all.  It seemed the height of injustice that life should be allowed to go on just the same as always, but it did.

Four o'clock came and the workday ended.  At four-thirty, Ben glanced up and down the street, took a deep breath, and began slowly walking towards home.  He had gone about ten steps when he was distracted by movement and the sound of an engine that was beginning to be familiar, and Ray's grey interim car pulled up to the curb beside him.

"Hey."  Ray was smiling, but he didn't look entirely sure that he wanted to be there.  Ben's return greeting was just as uncomfortable.  Removing his Stetson and placing it carefully on the dashboard, he stepped into the car and they headed for Ben's apartment.  The ride home was strained and mostly silent, filled with all the things they couldn't say.  Ray didn't come up for coffee as he often did, and Ben didn't offer.  After an awkward goodbye, he walked up alone to meet the white wolf waiting at his door.  He took a moment to change into jeans and a fresh shirt and take a swallow from a bottle of cranberry juice, and then he and the wolf headed out the door.

"I am not moping," he said as they walked.  "I'm not.  Just because a person is quiet, this does not mean that that person is necessarily out of sorts.  Perhaps I simply don't feel like talking."  He paused while Dief investigated a fire hydrant, then continued.  "It's not as though there were anything either Ray or I could do about the situation.  His family depends on him for support, both financial and emotional." Dief gave him a skeptical look, and he smiled slightly.  "Well, yes, Ray is rather emotionally volatile, but that's not the point.  The point is, if we were to become involved in a, ah, less than platonic manner... or more than platonic, I'm not..." he shook his head and started over.  "If we were to become involved, it could cause irreparable damage to his family.  You were there last night when he told us about his brother."

A woman in a pink sweatsuit jogged by with a poodle on a leash, and he fell silent until she had passed.  "I realize that it is sometimes possible to change the mind of one homophobic individual, and under ordinary circumstances I believe that one has a moral obligation to try.  However, trying to change the collective mind of a group such as a family, especially one that has already had a great deal of time and opportunity to make up that mind, well, it boggles the mind."  Dief trotted over to sniff at the wire cage encircling a young and rather sickly-looking oak tree, and once again Ben waited for him.

"Besides which, if I were to approach them on the subject, feeling as I do, it is possible that I might let slip something that would cause them to suspect that my stance on the matter was not entirely objective.  And while I do firmly believe that my own feelings are entirely immaterial to my beliefs, I also recognize that the perception of such feelings can substantially weaken an argument.  Ergo, I cannot speak to the Vecchios on the subject.  Ray can't do it either for the same reasons, as well as for the reason that he told us last night, namely that they seem to have made some sort of family pact not to discuss the subject and I don't believe they would be very receptive if he were to bring it up.  And this is presuming that any such talk would be effective at all, which as I said before, I consider unlikely.  So Ray and I will remain friends."

Reaching the door to the apartment building, he held it open for the wolf before entering himself.  "No, it isn't fair.  But sometimes, that's the way things are."

Ray didn't bother making a similar speech.  For one thing, he had no wolf to discuss things with, and for another, he'd been thinking it over in more abstract terms for years.  The situation was a fact of his life that didn't need to be articulated, so he settled for being crabby all evening instead.  Since crabbiness had been part of his life for years as well, nobody noticed.

Life continued to go on just as usual, and for the first day or two it was sheer torture to look at one another and know that they both wanted what they could never have.  But time dulls all sensations, especially for two busy men with a great deal else to worry about.  It wasn't long before they were slipping back into old routines, enjoying a friendship made just a bit sweeter by the unconsciously-tasted bitterness of their joint sacrifice.

*****

"That him?"  Ray indicated a flicker of movement at the corner of the shed they were watching for 'suspicious activity.'  Ben squinted through the darkness, then shook his head.

"Just another cat."

"So that makes what, five in the past hour?  How many cats does the man have?"  Ray shook his head in disbelief and reached for another potato chip, which he waved to emphasize his next point.  "That's got to be some sort of symptom, like the whole Birdman of Alcatraz thing.  You know how they say criminals are usually lonely people.  Maybe it's his way of compensating."

Ben shrugged.  "Perhaps he just likes cats."

There was no intelligent answer to that, and Ray didn't attempt to make one.  After a minute or so, he held out the bag of chips and the two of them munched companionably.  Every so often their fingers brushed, then tangled together, and each time they lingered just a little longer.

When it could no longer be denied that they were actually holding hands in the bottom of the bag, Ben looked up questioningly.  Ray was turned three-quarters away from him, studying the battered shed as though the coming and going of the cats were the last few seconds of a Bulls game.  Implicitly understanding the need for silence, he looked away as well.

It was like a dam breaking.  Every word they hadn't said, every look, every kiss, every caress they hadn't shared pulsed through the connection where palm met palm among the greasy potato fragments.  They made love a thousand times over without ever moving a muscle, until finally the flood slowed from a torrent to a comfortable smooth ebb and flow.  When their shift ended, they let go and drove home in silence.

The next time it was easier.  Their hands simply gravitated towards each other, each casual movement ending just a little bit closer than the one before, until they met.  And the time after that it was easier still.  Soon there was no pretence of accident, though they never mentioned it.  If they had, it would have been a hasty dismissal, a claim of innocence, a denial of anything more than a close friendship.  Ben might have brought up foreign cultures where men routinely held hands, and if he had, Ray would have rolled his eyes and pretended to be annoyed, and that would have been the end of it.  So they didn't bother.

Their touches grew ever-so-slightly less casual, more familiar, more intimate.  There were moments when their eyes met, unguarded, and the line was very nearly crossed.  Caution always won out, but the margin was getting slimmer.

*****

"Where do you want this?"  Ray pulled the oatmeal out of the last grocery bag.

"Bottom left cupboard.  Here, I'll get it."  Ben took the carton from him, their fingers touching as it passed from one to the other.  Ray was still standing in the same place when he stood up from putting it away.  They faced each other silently, the space between them disappearing.  They were close enough for Ray to feel Ben's breath on his lips as he said, "We shouldn't do this."

Green eyes slowly closed to hide the pain in them as he nodded slightly and pulled away.  "Yeah."  With an attempt at a normal tone of voice, he added, "Doesn't that wolf of yours need to go for a walk or something?"

Ben nodded.  "Are you coming with us today, or do you need to get home?"

"I think I'll stick around.  I really don't feel like going home right now."  He smiled bitterly, and Ben half-smiled back in acknowledgement.

"I'll get my key."

They had been walking for about ten minutes and had just reached the quieter part of the route when Ray surprised them both by bringing the subject up again.

"You know, it's amazing how one lousy person can totally screw up so many lives."  He said it offhandedly, as though he were remarking on the weather.  He didn't continue, and after a moment Ben answered, hoping to draw out a bit more information.

"By that, you would be referring to...?"

"My father."

"Your father."

"Well, yeah.  I mean, first he totally destroyed my brother's life.  Then he made life hell for my sisters and me, and Ma, she probably had it worst of all.  And now you-- you've gotta give him credit, the guy's been dead for eight years and he's managing to screw things up for people he's never even met."

"Now, Ray, your father has hardly ruined my life."

"Oh, come on, Benny!  You can't tell me this is how you want things to be between us."

"Well..." He hesitated, trying to brush the question off, but Ray wouldn't let him.  He stepped in front of the Mountie, effectively blocking his path.

"No.  I want you to say it.  Just this once, I want you to admit that something bothers you.  Or if you can't, then look me in the eye and tell me this is what you want."

"I..." Ben looked away, then down at the ground, before suddenly and squarely meeting his eyes.  "I can't say that it doesn't bother me.  It does bother me, and I wish that circumstances were different.  But I would rather have your friendship under these or any conditions than not at all.  And if this is all we can have, then I'm grateful for it."

Ray stared at him in disbelief.  "You know, that hair of yours does a really good job of hiding the lobotomy scar."

Ben smiled tolerantly, and they started walking again as he answered.  "I just don't see how blaming your father is going to improve matters."

"Yeah, well, maybe it doesn't help the situation, but it does make me feel better."

Ben cocked his head and looked at him thoughtfully.  "Does it really?"

"Sure.  If I can't actually be happy, at least I can get some perverse satisfaction out of knowing he's down in hell somewhere paying for it."

"Ah.  I would have thought it would actually make the situation worse by causing you to dwell on the negative aspects to the exclusion of the positive."

"So what am I supposed to do?  Just go on like this, pretending I don't really want to get you naked with a bottle of maple syrup, that I'm perfectly happy just being friends for the next forty years or until the next time one of us gets shot?"  His voice had gotten progressively louder towards the end of the speech, and he glanced around quickly to make sure they were alone.  Thankfully, there didn't seem to be anyone within earshot.  He turned back to Ben, who was looking at him thoughtfully again.  "Well?"

"Maple syrup?"

He looked away, grateful for the gathering twilight.  "It was just an illustration, OK?  But I'm serious.  Do you really think we can go on like this for the rest of our lives?  'Cause I don't know about you, but I don't think this is something that's just going to go away if we ignore it long enough."

Dief whined behind them, and they suddenly realized that they had walked right past the apartment entrance.  They turned and went in, and began the long climb up to the fourth floor.  They were on the second landing when Ben answered.

"I don't either."

"Huh?"

"Think it's going to go away.  Earlier, you said--"

"I know what I said."  They reached the next landing.  "So, you don't?"

Ben shook his head, and they climbed another two half-flights and started on the last.

"Hey, Benny?"

"Hm?"

"Would you change it, if you could?"

Ben was silent, concentrating on unlocking the door.  It swung open, and Dief's nails clicked from the hallway into the kitchen, where they could hear him slurping at his water bowl.  They followed him in, and Ben closed the door behind them.  He was quiet for so long that Ray was beginning to worry, until he gently took hold of Ray's arms and looked seriously into his eyes.

"I would rather be in love with you, even if this is all we could ever be, than marry anyone else on earth."

Ray closed his eyes as he let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, then opened them again.  He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Ben, and would have kissed him if Ben hadn't pulled his lips away. 

"Ray, your family--"

"Isn't here right now," Ray interrupted.  "This is between you and me.  One kiss isn't going to hurt them any more than we already are just by being in love, and there isn't anything we can do about that."

"Ray..." Ben still held back, longing and determination both clearly written in his eyes.  After a few seconds, Ray gave in with a sigh.

"Yeah.  You're right, by that reasoning we'd end up in bed together in no time.  But we've got to find some way out of this, Benny.  I don't think I can live like this for much longer."

Ben nodded, and slowly they slid out of each other's arms.  Ray lifted his jacket from the back of the chair where it had been hanging and prepared to leave.  "We're going to make this work."

Ben nodded again.  "I love you."

"I love you too," came the answer, as the door swung shut.

~END~

"What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over
Like a syrupy sweet?
Or does it just sag, like a heavy load?
Or does it explode?"

--Langston Hughes