Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, written purely for fun.

"Fraser, do you mind explaining what your wolf is doing?" Ray yelled at me.

"Half-wolf," I shouted above the barking and the growling.

"Gonna be a half-dead wolf if he doesn't cut this shit out!"

Diefenbaker had become completely unhinged the minute we walked into Ray's apartment. For no apparent reason. We'd been out for dinner and had actually found a restaurant that would let him sit in the foyer after Ray explained to the hostess that he was partially blind and that Dief needed to be within shouting distance. I made to remind Ray for the thousandth time that Dief was deaf but he ignored me.

"He's my guidewolf," Ray explained. "They swap in half-wolves in the wintertime. I get a real guidedog in the spring."

She looked back and forth between Ray and Dief, Ray laying on the charm with a trowel and Dief acting like a cube of butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Of course it wouldn't because it wouldn't have a chance to melt in his mouth. If he ever had the good fortune to espy an unprotected cube of butter, he'd swallowed the damn thing whole. Between Ray's grin and Diefenbaker's manufactured docility, she didn't see my extreme exasperation. Ray, of course, continued to ignore me, and despite his act, I could see Diefenbaker's little smirk that said, "Ha, Fraser, Ha!"

"You don't look blind," said the hostess. "How many fingers?" she narrowed her eyes and held up her three fingers.

Ray shrugged and in all honesty probably couldn't tell how many fingers she was holding up. Then he grinned again.

"Okay," she smiled back and led us to a table.

Once seated I whispered to Ray, "There was really no need to flirt with that women on Diefenbaker's behalf. He could have waited in the car. He's an arctic wolf for heaven's sake. A Chicago winter's eve should be a piece of cake to him." I shot Dief a look. Which he ignored because there was a small child in the foyer with a cookie in her hand. I coughed the word, "Donut," which got his immediate attention, and then I mouthed at him, "Don't you dare." He huffed his disappointment.

"Half wolf. Chill, Fraser," Ray demanded. "He's not hurting anyone. His fur's wet and he smells like six-month-old dirty socks when he's damp. Don't feel like getting a few hundred whiffs of that as we drive home.

"True," I sighed and gave in.

We had a very pleasant dinner, chatting about the Hawks' win the night before, replaying verbally some of the highlights, making plans to go to a car show on the upcoming weekend. I had Ray in tears of laughter relating Turnbull's abortive attempt to kill both Inspector Thatcher and myself through sheer boredom with a forty-minute monologue on his latest hobby, ikibana. It was a miracle that she didn't grab the pruning sheers out of his hand and stab him with it. At some point during the Turnbull story (Dief hates it when I tell Turnbull stories, for some inexplicable reason he's most sympathetic to his vagaries, whereas he's nothing if not exceptionally critical of mine—a sore point between us, you may be sure), I sneaked a quick glance to make sure he was still parked in the entrance and hadn't made his way to the kitchen (as is his wont). He was staring intently at me and Ray, and for once I couldn't read his expression. He narrowed his eyes to a sliver, and for a split second I knew exactly how a rabbit felt just before Dief pounced on him. The moment passed as a waitress bearing a tray of food passed not three feet in front of him.

And now we were in Ray's apartment, having divested ourselves of our coats and boots not three seconds earlier. Instead of plopping himself down on what is now known as "Dief's chair," he went completely berserk and began running around the two of us, nipping at our heels, barking and growling at us the entire time.

"Diefenbaker! Stop this instant. Stop! STOP! Fetch. Fetch the nice ball," I faked a throw, but Diefenbaker didn't even follow my hand. "Heel, Heel! Run. STOP!" I screamed at Diefenbaker an entire dictionary of commands to no avail.

"Fuck, fuck! Fraser, goddammit! Do something!" Ray screamed as the growling became more menacing when we tried to escape to the bathroom.

Both of us began yelling more commands; well, I yelled commands, while Ray screamed threats. "You are dead meat, furball. Hear me? D.E.A.D. M.E.A.T."

I had tried to shield Ray from Dief by backing him up against a wall, protecting him with my body. Both of us were panting and not a little terrified.

"He okay now?" Ray whispered.

I moved away from Ray just slightly to see if… That got a growl.

"Apparently not."

You couldn't have threaded a piece of paper between the two of us we were so close. Ray is a wee bit taller than I am, and we fit together very well. We were shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip.

"When this is over, I'm gonna kill him, then I'm gonna kill you," Ray growled.

"Oh, like I'm complicit in this," I snapped, because this was getting most uncomfortable. Ray would have to stand in line. I'd had first rights on Diefenbaker. Ray's mouth was just half an inch from my ear. A most sensitive spot. I could smell coffee on Ray's breath, and that co-mingled with the slight tang of his sweat and tropical aroma of his hair gel… I would be lying if I didn't admit that my jeans were now so tight I could barely breathe. I made the smallest attempt to pull away, which got another growl.

"In the morning, I'm gonna deny that I even asked this, Fraser, because I'm not going to admit to that voodoo thing you have going on with him, but what does he want?"

I didn't answer him.

"Frase," he said in that low voice that was the usual prelude to threats of my head being kicked in.

"He… He wants us to kiss."

Ray had been fidgeting for the last five minutes, small twitches and ticks, but now he went completely still.

"K-k-kiss?" he stuttered.

I nodded, and I must have leaned forward when I did it because his mouth brushed my ear.

"You're shitting me, right?" he whispered.

I shook my head, and this time my ear scraped across his mouth. He hissed.

"Frase," he whispered and rubbed his cheek against mine, his stubble slightly chaffing my skin. Ray's beard was always more prominent than mine at the end of the day, and that was one of the most erotic things I've ever experienced. I couldn't help it. I thrust up against him and was met with an answering bulge.

"Okay, okay," he muttered and then began a slow, maddening swivel of his hips, massaging our erections against each other. "Good?" he asked.

"Greatness," I managed to pant out.

"Fucking wolf. I'm gonna kiss you now, okay, Frase?"

I didn't answer him but grabbed his face between my two hands and beat him to it.

Ray is not a morning person, and I was able to slip out of bed without him waking up. I would take Dief for a brief walk and pick up coffee and bagels on the way home. With any luck, Ray would still be asleep by the time we got home.

"You are not forgiven for that shocking display last night," I said in no uncertain terms once we were out the door. "I do not appreciate you micromanaging our lives— What do you mean desperate times call for desperate measures? Do you really think you deserve a donut this morning? I imagine eventually we would have… What do you mean when hell freezes over? Yes, of course I'm happy. I didn't expect— No, I am not discussing Ray's sexual abilities. There are some things that are private. Eavesdropper's hear no good of themselves. We were not that loud—"