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Ray gets insomnia.
(He also falls asleep at the drop of a hat, which a) has gotten him in trouble at school, at home, and with Stella, but also 2) his brother and, later, Stella used to justify telling him the insomnia is fake. Or the falling asleep on top of books thing was. Or both.)
But anyway he gets insomnia where, okay, like, he's tired, right, but he's not SLEEPY, so he can't sleep. And Stella used to tell him to lie down and close his eyes and he'd fall asleep, and he'd try it, and then he'd just be more wired and not even tired and she'd groan and he'd get out of bed and pace or listen to records with the headphones and some nights he wouldn't even forget about them on the turns and get all tangled up and drag the player off the shelf and she'd get enough sleep.
The first bunch of times he slept with Fraser they both passed out. A few times from the sex (half dressed, covered in drying grossness, shocked but, secretly -- where he'd banked it, an ember that wouldn't quite burn out -- hopeful). A few because there were cases, and there were chases, and then there was boots off and fall in bed, budge over Benton buddy.
(Most of the cases times happened before the sex started. But then a couple happened after, and that was... cool. Freakish. But warm, when he woke up, like after Stella and him got hitched. Like it was realer, now.)
But then came a night where they got in bed at a normal hour (they'd gotten each other off before dinner, hung out and watched hockey, and then... just gotten in bed. Like that was a thing they did now. Like this was normal. Like they were normal.)
Fraser got in bed, spent a couple minutes arranging himself next to Ray, finding the ways that they fit yet felt like they were still themselves (no way was Ray swooning on Fraser's shoulder like some maiden on her muscle-bound hero, nuh uh), and then he closed his eyes, and sighed, and -- fell asleep.
Ray didn't.
Ray rolled, and wiggled, and tried not to twitch, and when Fraser started to lighten, to wake himself up to deal with whatever needed to be dealt with 'cause that's how Fraser was, Ray swore at himself, and aloud he whispered he needed the bathroom, and slipped away. Fraser shifted and brought his arm in as if hugging -- nothing, because Fraser didn't have nothing TO hug most nights, and Ray went into the bathroom and closed the door and slid down it and hated himself
He stayed there for he didn't know how long -- he wasn't great at time at the best of times, which this was not -- but he'd picked down three toenails, popped two leg hair pimples, and traced all seven scars on his right leg with his thumb and was contemplating high tailing it out the window to... not Florida, not Arizona, not anywhere in fucking *Canada*; Oregon, maybe. He'd heard they had a skinhead problem and he'd be happy to help clear it out -- when there was a knock behind him and he jolted and brained himself on the counter.
"Ray? Are you alright?"
"Shit ow shit -- no, yeah, fine, I'm fine, I'm just. Uh." He glanced around, but nothing suggested itself. "Y'know, extrapolating. Rough skin, gotta stay baby smooth." He grimaced, and shoved his hand harder into the bump on his head. Stupid, stupid...
"...Exfoliating?"
"Nah, no trees in here, gotta go uh, long way for trees." He clenched his jaw and dropped his head. John-John, a kid up the street, had told Ray he'd pop him so hard they'd have to wire his trap shut, back when they were twelve. Shoulda taken him up on it. Should go look him up, see if the offer's still good.
"....Ray, can I come in? Or maybe if you're done in there you could come--" Ray opened the door, and Fraser's startled, concerned eyes rapidly scanned his face before staring straight at him. "--out. Ah. Do you... want to come back to bed? Or... or were there further ablutions you needed?"
Ray hated seeing uncertainty on Fraser's face (okay, he loved seeing the guy two steps behind and struggling to keep up, but that was at work, or on cases, or any time, any time Ray could get two steps ahead, and sure it never lasted, but man was it sweet when it happened), but he hated, he HATED being the one who put it there.
"Nah, I'm, uh. Fine, I'm cool, just... uh. Hungry! Yeah, so you go back to bed and I'll..." Fraser didn't exactly step aside, but Ray shoved past anyway. Anything to get away from that look.
He was most of the way done making the first sandwich -- he wasn't hungry for real, but he could shove it in his mouth anyway, it'd make the morning go faster he figured -- when he saw Fraser pass by, putting his -- hat on?? Wait, that was the door, shit! Ray tried to put the bread slice back on the plate, but it ended mayo side down, the knife clattered to the floor.
"Fraser!" He slipped on a mayo glob. "Wait!"
He half ran, half stumbled to the hall, caught himself against the wall to find Fraser, head bowed and turned away, fully dressed and half out the door already, but waiting, yes!
"Fraser--"
"It's alright, Ray. Perfectly understandable. I'll see you tomorrow at the station."
That was Fraser's brittle voice, his I'm gonna Mountie the way through this voice, the one he used to try to write reality (and hell, most of the time it worked, even sometimes on Ray, but he wasn't supposed to use it *here*, not like *this*).
"What, no! I mean, yeah, but -- come on, I know I'm bad at this, I'm sorry, please, come back, I'll, I'll--" I'll try harder. I'll try again. Maybe I'll be good enough for you, just give me another chance. He dropped his head against the wall, then jerked away -- ow, that bruise was a bad one.
Fraser had lifted his head and cocked it slightly -- and among all the reasons Ray loved the hat, the way it made even slight movements of Fraser's head easier to see was definitely in the top ten -- and stood up a little straighter. Dief'd come trotting up -- not the foot, don't lick the foot! -- and was quietly pacing halfway between them.
"I don't... want to make you uncomfortable, which clearly I have. I... overstepped, and I apologise."
What? "What?"
"What?" Fraser turned around and looked at Ray, finally. Ray scrubbed his foot -- wolf slobber and mayo residue, ew -- on his other leg.
"Look, uh. It's just. I can't sleep. Sometimes. Sometimes I can't sleep, and I don't know why, and it's not you it's -- oh god, shoot me now -- but please, just... stay. Okay?"
"You can't -- oh. I thought -- well nevermind, it's not -- so you're fine with this. With me -- and Diefenbaker -- being... here."
It wasn't a question, but only cause Fraser wouldn't let himself ask questions when he could pretend he knew the answer instead. Ray nodded anyway.
"Yeah, I mean. Yeah. Look, just. You go lie down, and I'll -- I'll be in when I can, okay? I usually pass out eventually. Most of the time." He twisted his lips, tried to smile (knew he failed).
Fraser shut the door, slowly set down his pack. Dief huffed, and hightailed it back to the couch. They both ignored him.
"I suppose..." Fraser took off his hat, spinning it absently in front of him. Ray watched his hands, scratched at his hip. "What if you came back to bed with me. We could both lie down, turn off the lights," close your eyes, and just... count cars, plan what you'll do tomorrow, just go to sleep, Ray! Ray squeezed his eyes shut. "--and I'll tell you a story. And when it's done, if you're not asleep, well. You can twitch, or get up, or whatever you need. Or I'll tell another one. I'm fairly certain I'll be up to the task."
"Uh... yeah. I mean, we could try that. You gotta sleep sometime, though."
"And I will. But it's not a hardship, Ray. If it helps, all the better. If not, well."
They locked eyes. We'll be together.
Ray gets insomnia. Sometimes, Fraser tells him a story, and it helps. Sometimes, Fraser tells him a story, and Ray's still awake, and he lies there, and he twitches, and he rolls over, and he tells himself another one, while Fraser -- lets him roll, and sleeps on.
(Sometimes, he still ends up in the bathroom, picking his toenails. But he's pretty sure he'll head for Canada, when he does make it out. And he won't be alone.)