Ray always did things backwards with Fraser. Out of order, upside-down, hanging off rooftops, putting the sled before the Dief, all that good stuff.

What's worse than a dead best friend? A dead best friend who sits in your armchair going on about unfinished business and giving you worried looks. In which Fraser and Vecchio each try to be helpful in their own way, and Ray just tries to get on with his life.

In which Diefenbaker chases a car, Ray buys a stuffed penguin, and Fraser gets a clue.

"Your Great Uncle Tiberius had homosexual tendencies in his youth, you know," Fraser's father said, conversationally, while Fraser was still recovering in the men's room. "They often found him frolicking naked in the snow with the local boys. Girls too. He was quite the charmer until he went insane."

"I'm not gay, Dad," Fraser said irritably. He splashed cold water on his face.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, son. I kissed Buck Frobisher once. Of course, we'd been snowed in for nearly a month by then, rations down to nothing. Thought we'd never see a woman again. It's surprising what can be attractive in a situation like that. I suppose in the right circumstances, I might even have eaten him," he mused.

Technically, Ray Kowalski was a Principality, but people made jokes about that these days.

Ray's never going to get used to it, but it's the good kind of not-getting-used-to, like how he's never going to get used to waking up spooning Fraser. Ray likes the midnight sun the same way: weird, but good weird. It reminds him a little of Chicago sometimes, the unreal light, his body tired, must be the night shift. Fraser's the same way, sleeps less in the summertime.

Ray dared to smush his experimental hair down in hats in Canada, dared to eat everything Fraser gave him including the freaky bark tea, dared ... dared to let Fraser turn his world inside out and meet his eyes afterward.

"I don't really want the wolf to be my new partner, Shawn. Why would I want a wolf as my new partner?"

"I talked to your dad, I went through this place called the Borderland, I had a boat ride, I fed a wolf a doughnut, and I told stories for your soul," Ray interrupted. "This does not mean you are not insane."

"You'll have to excuse him," Aziraphale told their assignment - Fraser - apologetically. "He has the manners of a - well."

Aziraphale waved a hand tellingly at Crowley. Crowley had evidently made very little effort for the sake of appearance; his wings were distinctly lopsided and his tail appeared to be held on with safety pins. The sunglasses had fallen by the wayside - not much point to them, when one was being obvious about these things - he had, however, managed to manufacture some tiny, tiny snakeskin shoes.

At least, one assumed those were shoes.

"You do not grab the mysterious beans and take them into the storage closet without me, got it? Those are Chicago beans, and Chicago is going to be there when you deal with them."

It all started… well. It's impossible to say when it all started. Fraser has thought it over a thousand times, gone over every single interaction, every crumb of information, every scrap or clue. But the very nature of the matter is what makes it so difficult to find anything out of the ordinary.

Ray nods slowly, lips pursed, and frowns down the street, too. "You know, Benny, Frankie's a young guy. He could live to be ninety. You gonna spend the next 55 years guarding my house?"

"If you'd really wanted to succeed, Benton, you'd have a flathead on you as well." Fraser, Sr. shook his head and tutted sadly. "Proper preparation prevents poor performance."

Ray's getting used to feeling small. It's not the same thing as feeling insignificant. The exact difference is hard for him to get a grip on. Like everything that has to do with Fraser and Fraser's world, it's slippery.

It's Monday and he's getting shot at. Figures. Nice day in September, blue sky, good weather, walking back to the station after lunch, minding his own business -- of course he's gonna get shot at. Why the hell not?

The thing about Ben, Diefenbaker reflects, is that whilst he seems to have an almost unnatural aptitude for human languages, when it comes to speaking Canine, the poor man is only just above the level of the average unilingual tourist.

Five people Dean Winchester fucked in, on, or near the Impala, and five conversations he had with his little brother.

The first time it happened, it was kind of an accident. Except not really.

Ray finds his place. It's with Fraser.

Twelve Experiments Conducted in the Frozen Northlands, by S. Ray Kowalski:

Stella had been easy compared to this. He'd only had to piss himself to get her to notice that he kinda-sorta liked her.

There were two doors near the back of the restaurant opposite the swinging kitchen doors, one labeled Rays and the other labeled Frannies, with little silhouettes underneath them, a man-shape and a woman-shape.