Chapter Seven
Mountie Revelations

"Blair? May I ask you a personal question?"

Blair studied him. "Are you curious, Fraiser?"

Fraiser considered for a moment. "Yes, I am."

Blair smiled. "Goooood. I like curious people. Tell me, do you drink a lot of orange juice?"

"As a matter of fact, I consume a good deal of orange juice. It is an excellent source of vitamin C."

"And energy. Go ahead, ask away."

"How long have you been gay?"

Blair scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Hard to say, Frase. It's not like I woke up one day thinking I'd like to try an alternate lifestyle, and checked my calendar. Since I was... oh, twelve or so."

"So young?"

He shrugged. "I was precocious about everything. I didn’t actually do anything for a few years, but I was the only boy I knew who watched 'The Dukes of Hazzard' because of Bo Duke and not Daisy Duke or the car."

Fraiser cleared his throat. "I understand that it is not uncommon for most men to have some homosexual or homoerotic experience during their youth, but that this does not necessarily mean that they are gay."

"That's true. However the first time another guy put his hand down my pants, I had no doubt in my mind." There was silence for a moment. Finally Blair said, "I answered your personal question. Now, will you answer one for me?"

"That would seem only fair."

"Have you ever had a homosexual experience?" Oh, God, that man looks delicious when he blushes!

"Uh... no."

"There was a little hesitation there, Fraiser. Are you sure? I mean," he gestured, "Running around in that outfit, I hardly see how you could have avoided it. That's one of the hottest things I've ever seen."

"Oh, really... I... thank you. No. Except... Well, perhaps... But I thought that tourist patted me on the bottom in thanks for my giving him directions."

"One way to tell, Frase. Was his hand flat, or cupped?"

Fraiser thought. "Cupped."

"That was copping a feel, not saying thank you."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me. I guess that qualifies. Barely. How much hetero experience have you had?"

"Umm...."

"Benny?"

"A gentleman does not tell."

Blair grinned slowly. "Fraiser? Are you still a virgin?"

There was a very long pause. "Yes."

Blair blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally he said, "Geez, man. I was kidding. But you're serious. You really are still cherry?"

"I told you, I never had a girlfriend."

"Well, yeah, but I thought you meant like, you never went steady, or got pinned, or whatever it is you do in Canada. I mean, you're just such a gorgeous, sexy guy, I can't understand how you've managed to escape all these years. Especially around your partner."

Benton began running his fingers over the brim of his hat. His voice was very quiet. "Ray... Stanley is not interested in me that way. He is a good friend."

"How do you know he isn't interested that way? I think you'd be just his type: big, buff, and sweet. Like Jim."

The door opened and the nurse who had been there earlier came in. "I see you're making yourself at home. How's the patient?"

"Haven't heard a peep out of him," Blair told her.

She used an electronic thermometer to check his temperature in his ear. "Well, the fever is down a bit." She wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm and pumped it up, putting her stethoscope to the crook of his elbow.

"Whadafuckyadoin?" The voice sounded clotted.

The nurse made a note on his chart, and held his wrist, looking at her watch. "Just getting your vitals, Mr. Tyson."

"Hey, cutie, howsabouta quick blow job?"

She dropped his wrist and made more notes. "Patient seems more alert and cheerful." She put the chart away, "I wouldn't suck you through a straw, mister. Though from what the ER nurse who got you in that gown tells me, it would be possible." Blair cracked up as she left, and even Fraiser covered a smile. Solly muttered discontentedly for a moment, but was soon snoring gently.

Blair stretched, showing a few more inches of tummy. Benton became very interested in adjusting his hat band. "So Frase, to get back to what we were talking about..."

"I would really rather not."

"Tough. I think the question is, do you like Stanley 'that way'."

"I...he...I never...but...uh...he..."

"That's six attempts without one coherent thought. I believe you're in love."

Fraiser sighed. "Oh dear."

"You like that expression, don't you?"

"It covers a multitude of emotions. Ray is a very attractive man."

"Yes, he is."

"But conventional wisdom says that partners should never become romantically involved with each other."

"Ask me what Jim and I think about that. On second thought, don't ask me. Vulgar language seems to upset you. Speaking of which... Fraiser, say shouldn't."

"No. I do not understand..."

"Don't. Say don't."

"No. I do not understand this obsession you seem to have with coercing me into using contractions."

"I don't know, either. Do you suppose there's an official kink name for it?"

"I would not be surprised."

"Wouldn't."

"No."

Blair cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. "You're enjoying this, teasing me."

"Blair, I am not the one who is..."

"I'm and who's."

"No." They both smiled.

"Ellison, you sure that your partner won't mind me borrowing his threads?" Stanley called from the loft.

Jim lifted the last slice of bacon out onto a paper towel, and broke the first egg into the sizzling grease. "He may want first dibs on skinning you out of them later, but no, he won't mind. Hurry up, it's almost done."

Jim heard Stanley thumping down the stairs, then crossing the living room to the kitchen. Like he'd promised, Stan was moving just a tiny bit more stiffly today. Jim grinned. "Sunnyside up or over easy?"

Stanley came up behind him and slipped his arms around Jim's waist, giving him a squeeze. "Sunnyside. Gotta have yolk to dip the toast in."

"I just can't explain that to Blair. He keeps making gagging noises. Make the toast, would you?"

Stanley opened the bread box and took out the loaf. "Oh, good. White. I was afraid there for a minute it would be some sort of seven grain sprouted rye, groats, and oatmeal stuff."

"Blair keeps that in the refrigerator. He keeps trying to slip it to me, toasted."

Stanley shook his head. "You must love him."

"I do."

There was such quiet conviction in his voice that Stanley looked up from dropping the bread into the toaster. Jim was surprised to see a wistful expression ghost across his face. Tough, cocky, randy Stanley Vecchio, wistful? "That must be real nice, Jim." He pushed the plunger down on the toaster.

Jim scraped hot fat over the eggs, filming the yolk. "Stanley, have you ever made a move on Fraiser?"

Stanley snorted, head deep in the refrigerator as he rooted through the shelves. "Benny? You think I want to get my ass kicked? I'd probably land back up around where he came from. Ooh, real butter!"P> "Sandburg says that we might as well, if we're going to get the fat anyway. Has he given you any indication that he's intolerant? Any verbal gay bashing? I find it hard to imagine."

"You gotta be kidding." Stanley took out a carton of milk and began opening cabinets. "Benny makes Mother Theresa look hardass when it comes to accepting people. Tell me where the glasses are, or I drink out of the carton and give you and Sandburg cooties."

"To the right of the sink. So, is he a ladies' man? You can't always go by that. Blair dated a new girl every week before we, uh, discovered each other."

Stanley poured two glasses of milk and put away the carton. "Nah. I don't think Frase has been on a date since I've known him. Which drawer is the silver in?"

"Over there. So you don't know for sure." Vecchio laid out two place settings. "Geez, Ellison, look at him."

"Yeah." He turned off the stove and put the plates on the table. Planting his hands on his hips, he said, "So, look at me."

Stanley did, raking Jim's lean form with appreciation. This was one of the most masculine men he'd ever run into, and last night he had rocked Stanley's world without hesitation. "Point taken." He got the toast, tossing a slice on each plate, and they sat down to eat.

Both of them concentrated on the food. They'd worked up respectable appetites with their nocturnal exercise. Finally Stanley was wiping up the last few drops of molten egg yolk with a bite of toast. "Jim? You... uh... you really think there's a chance that Frase might be, shall we say, not entirely averse to the idea?"

"Damn, Stan, you're a goner. You're picking up his speech patterns. Yeah, I think he would be not only not averse, but probably pretty damn enthusiastic. You never know till you try."

Stanley chewed thoughtfully, then shook his head. "Can't risk it. I like him too much to risk what I already have with him. He's comfortable with me, now. Even if it didn't freak him out, and I'm by no means sure that it wouldn't, it would always be between us."

"Look, Stan, you don't have to walk up to him at the hospital and give him a soul kiss. Just think about it. If the time comes, be ready."

Stan sighed. "Yeah, I suppose Hell could freeze over. After all, I've seen winter in Chicago..."