A Kowalski Thanksgiving

6 am, central standard time, and the cold Chicago sky was still dark. Snowflakes fell gently, quietly, covering the city with a blanket of white wonder and mystery.

The apartment was quiet, well, almost. The sounds emanating from the bedroom were hardly quiet.

"Oh, yeah, Frase. Oh, that's good."

Benton Fraser thrust himself deeper into his lover. Nothing, absolutely nothing in the world could compare to the magical thrill of making love to Ray. Ray, his Ray. How had he ever lived without Ray? And then the moment was upon them. Fraser felt his balls tighten, felt the fluid building and rushing out in a tide of ecstasy as he emptied himself into the body of the man he loved, taking Ray with him over the edge.

Ray turned and nuzzled his nose against Fraser's ear. "Ohgod, Frase. I love you."

Fraser pulled Ray's body close to his own and whispered, "I know, Ray. I love you."

Lying together in sweet contentment and fulfillment, the two did not hear the sound of a key turning the lock on the apartment door, nor did they hear the two who entered. And they didn't hear a female voice whisper, "They're probably still asleep."

They did, however, hear the bedroom door close. That sound interrupted a series of soft, gentle, loving kisses. There are kisses that build passion, kisses that increase passion, kisses that praise passion. Then there are the kisses that thank passion, and these were the thankful kisses.

"Shit" Ray said as his sated blue eyes flew open. "They're here already. I knew we shoulda closed the damn door."

"Ray .. Ray .. Ray. Please, watch your language. It bothers your mother."

"Dammit, Frase. This is all so new. I mean, it's one thing for Mom and Dad to say .. ok, we accept that yer gay and Ben is yer lover. It's somethin' else for 'em to see us in bed together. Jeez! And in case ya didn't notice, Mom's not in the room just now."

"That's true, Ray. But you occasionally swear in her presence. She never says anything to you about it, but I can see that she doesn't approve."

" Oh that's rich, Frase! She approves of the two of us but doesn't approve of swearing. Moms, go figure."

Ray attempted to squirm away, but Fraser's strong arms held him still. Fraser wasn't ready to give up the moment. "Ray, lie still. If they have seen us, there is no point in pretending that it didn't happen. Just hope that whomever closed the door wasn't here five minutes earlier."

Ray's entire body blushed at the thought. He made one more weak attempt to pull away and then gave in to the warm and wonderful feeling of lying in Fraser's arms. Fraser's logic overcame Ray's own instinct, not an uncommon thing between them. Besides, Ray never could resist the small, playful kisses that Fraser was now giving him. Soft giggles escaped Ray as Fraser trailed his tongue into Ray's ear, drawing lazy circles across his earlobe.

. . . . . . . . . .

Barbara Kowalski turned from the now closed bedroom door and walked into the kitchen. It would take hours to prepare their Thanksgiving meal and her thoughts turned to cooking, away from what she had just seen and heard. There were some things a mother did not need to know.

"Still sleepin?" her husband asked.

"No, Dear, they're awake. I quite imagine that they'll be up soon. I think I'll start a pot of coffee."

Damian Kowalski leaned back in the chair where he was sitting and closed his eyes. He wished that their small trailer had been large enough to do the Thanksgiving thing there. Instead, his wife had dragged him out of bed and out into the cold Chicago morning because she was determined to do an entire Thanksgiving meal. His eyes drifted shut and he dozed off momentarily.

The smell of fresh coffee and sound of a running shower woke him. The shower must have been running for quite some time because Fraser was entering the living room, tucking a blue flannel shirt into his jeans, hair still damp.

"Good morning, Sir. How are you ?" Fraser asked as he headed toward the kitchen and coffee.

Damian was still coming to terms with the fact that his son was 'living with' a man. It wasn't easy. He had to admit, though, that Ben was a fine man. He watched the gentle affection his wife showed as she gave Ben a hug and a kiss on his cheek before handing him two cups of coffee. They seemed completely at ease with each other.

Fraser handed Damian one of the coffees and sat on the couch. Damian took a sip of his coffee and said "Uh, Ben. Mind if I ask ya a question?"

"No Sir, not at all."

"How come it is that Stanley calls ya Fraser, not Ben, and you call him Ray instead of Stanley?"

Fraser tilted his head and looked at Damian in mild relief. Passing his thumb across his eyebrow he replied "Well, Sir. Ray has always called me Fraser, oh well except for the few times that he calls me Benton Buddy, but that's not important. He's just always called me that and after we became, became .. well the name just stuck. And I call him Ray because when we first met he was undercover as a detective I had worked with before named Ray. And since it is his middle name, I continue to call him that."

"Oh. Well that kinda makes sense. I just wondered. So is it ok if Barbara and I call you Ben?"

"Yessir, I have no problem with that at all, Mr. Kowalski."

"Look, Ben, c'n ya stop with all the 'Mr' stuff? You call Barbara Mom and I was kinda thinkin' that, well, since it looks like yer gonna be with our boy, maybe you could call me Dad, Son?"

Ray entered the room to see his lover beaming at his father, face all lit up like a Christmas tree. The slight tension he usually felt when there were around each other since his father had learned of their relationship seemed to be gone. They were both relaxed and smiling.

Entering the small kitchen, he gave his mother a hug and whispered "What's goin' on in there?"

"Oh, Stanley, your father asked Ben to call him Dad." There were tears in Barbara's eyes as she handed Ray his coffee. With the turkey seasoned and in the oven, she turned her attention to preparing bacon, eggs, and toast for breakfast.

Ray sat beside Fraser on the couch, placing the steaming cup of coffee on the coffee table. Fraser took Ray's hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. Even after what his mother had just told him, Ray was surprised that Fraser would do this so openly. What really surprised Ray was that his father didn't seem to mind. The silence in the room was broken as Barbara called her men to breakfast.

Conversation at the breakfast table centered around who would win the football game that afternoon. Fraser added little to the conversation, preferring hockey to football. The voices swirled around him, discussing the merits and failings of both teams. It was so pleasant, this family breakfast. And Fraser was overwhelmed at having been accepted by both of Ray's parents. He knew that Damian was still working his way through seeing them as a couple. Fraser knew that it must be difficult for a man to accept the fact that his son was gay, and that there would be no grandchildren.

He wondered what his own father would think. His father was truly gone now, for Fraser had neither seen nor heard from him since they had returned from Canada, having stopped Muldoon and Cyrus Bolt.

With breakfast finished, the three men went back to the living room. Ray and Damian were still talking about football and Fraser was about to take Dief for a walk when a crashing sound and soft "Oh dear" from the kitchen startled them.

"What's wrong, Mom?" Ray asked.

"Nothing, I just dropped a glass on the floor."

Entering the small kitchen, Fraser said to her "Go sit down, Mom. You're probably tired. You haven't recovered all of your strength yet from your fall a few weeks back. Ray and I will clean up and wash the dishes." He gently led her to the living room and signaled Ray with a tilt of his head.

Fraser got the broom and dustpan while Ray pulled several paper towels off of the roll. The broken glass was swept up quickly. Fraser leaned down to pick up the dustpan. Ray was already on the floor with the damp paper towels. Their faces were so close. Hidden from the living room behind a counter, they leaned toward each other and stole a soft, quiet kiss.

Fraser disposed of the broken glass and paper towels. Then, standing hip to hip at the sink, Fraser washed while Ray dried and the breakfast clean up was complete.

Fraser signaled Dief and put on his coat and Stetson.

"I'm taking Dief out for a walk. We won't be gone long."

"Wait up, Frase. I'll go with you" Ray said.

As they left the small apartment, Ray turned to his mother and said to her "You just rest and stay outta the kitchen while we're gone."

Barbara looked up from her knitting and replied "Don't worry about me. You two go on and enjoy your walk."

. . . . . . . . . .

Fraser and Ray strolled slowly around the nearby park, watching Diefenbaker run. They walked close to each other, but never touching. Few knew about their relationship. Some of their friends at the 27th knew: Huey, Dewey, Lt. Welsh. The Vecchio family knew, as did Constable Turnbull . And now Ray's parents knew. They were not ashamed of their love for each other, they just didn't advertise it.

Snow was still falling softly. It slowly covered the brim of Fraser's Stetson and the knit cap that Ray wore. Dief stopped on occasion to shake it off of his fur. The fountain in the park was covered with ice crystals. The city of Chicago, spread out and graffiti ridden, was turning into a white wonderland, hushed and beautiful.

"So, Frase, Mom tells me that my old man wants you to call him Dad."

"Yes, Ray. I was surprised and quite overcome by his request. Do you realize what this means, Ray? I have a family. Well, of course I have a family since I do have a half sister. But your parents asking me to call them Mom and Dad? That means a lot to me...a family."

There are moments that are caught in time: like smells, and sounds, and portraits burned into the soul.. As Ray watched Fraser tilt his head, blocking the north wind from his face, he knew that this would be one of those times ... a memory that he would never forget.

"Frase, remember me tellin' ya how disappointed Dad was when I decided to become a cop? Things were pretty strained between us for a long time. I stayed in touch with Mom, but Dad? Then they showed up here. I was still uncomfortable around him for a long time. That is, until all four of us started doin' things together. Then when he found out about you an' me I just knew that it was gonna get ugly. He sure surprised the hell outta me when he took it so well. And now, well, now it looks like things are gonna be ok. I guess what I'm tryin' to say is that it looks like we both got a family now."

. . . . . . . . . .

They returned from their walk to find a very disobedient and slightly devious mother back in the kitchen. Fraser once more got her seated in the living room as he and Ray took over preparation of the Thanksgiving meal.

Barbara relaxed and returned to her knitting, a smile gracing her face. She had known that she didn't have the strength yet to do everything by herself. It had been her intention all along to spend a lazy, peaceful day. Her little ploy of dropping the glass earlier had worked exactly as she had hoped it would. Now she could work on the sweater she was making Stanley for Christmas and watch the two interact with each other, her son and the man she considered her son-in-law.

Fraser peeled potatoes, Ray worked on cornbread dressing. Fraser fixed the salad, Ray opened a couple cans of peas. They moved easily in the small kitchen, brushing against each other when they both tried to be in the same spot at the same time.

Their soft voices and gentle laughter were comforting sounds. This was what she wanted. This was what had prompted her to convince Damian to move back to Chicago.

Surrounded by the sight and sound of family, Barbara sighed deeply, a smile on her face.