Light crept through the gap in the curtains, and Ray rolled over, buried his face in the pillow. He was twitching and restless, and all he could hear was Fraser's breath whistling through his nose.

A week into July and the sun wouldn't stop shining. Ray thought he'd be okay, but his sleeping pattern was still completely messed up. It just kept shining and shining, all day and all night - like a big bright clock in the sky that made his body think he supposed to be awake all the time.

Back on the adventure, he hadn't thought much about it. Fraser tried to explain how it all worked, but Ray had tuned him out somewhere around longitude and cycles, cause Ray figured if he could handle ice crevasses and men-eating blizzards, then a little sun was going to be just fine by him. But this was different, not like the Chicago sun that stayed hidden all the time behind smog.

He'd found there was a difference between the day-sun and the night-sun. Day-sun was round, cheerful, and shimmered over the lake. It made the town look cleaner, brighter - less like a piece of nowhere with only one stoplight and faded wooden buildings. Made it look big with possibilities.

Late at night, though, it seemed like the clouds stretched out and became thin, washed over the blue of the sky. It was like looking into the sun through glass, distorted and filmy and Ray felt like he was mixed up there with it, everything confused and upside-down.

The floor was chilly against his bare feet, so he grabbed some socks off the floor, and looked back at Fraser. He'd rolled over into the warm space left by Ray's body, but was still softly snoring, and it was a little annoying that Fraser could sleep even though the room seemed to glow with the sun edging in all the cracks.

The cabin's porch had a swing big enough for two, and Ray snagged a blanket from the back of the sofa, quietly opened the door.

He watched the horizon, squinting into the hazy purple and pink as it all blended together; treetops brushed the edge of the sun, like they were floating. The swing softly creaked every time he pushed backward, and he liked that. It made up for how it was so silent, how nothing was making a sound, like even the birds knew it was time to sleep, even if he didn't.

It was nothing like Chicago, where late-night car horns and rumbling trucks put him to sleep most nights. Nothing at all like Chicago, where he still had another four months on his lease and a desk with his name on it - his real name - waiting for him.

He and Fraser hadn't really talked about it yet - of course, they'd only been back a couple of weeks and Ray'd been too busy sticking his hands down Fraser's pants to really get any talking done, but they both seemed fine with that.

He knew it wouldn't last, though. Eventually Fraser would have to go back to work, and Ray would have to go back to Chicago, and it wouldn't matter anymore that the sun kept him up all night, because Chicago knew it was supposed to be dark at three in the morning.

The breeze was cool and soft, and he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, pushed out again with his feet and swung his legs back and forth. There was a hint of rain on the wind. It smelled clean, not like the acid rain he was used to, and when he breathed in deeply he didn't feel like he was going to choke on the city.

Thing was, Chicago seemed really really far away. Like he could close his eyes and only see bits and pieces of it in his mind, which was stupid, cause it wasn't like he'd been gone a long time.

A short cough made him jerk his head up, and Fraser was in front of him, holding out a mug.

"Tea," Fraser said with a sleepy smile, waving his other hand so Ray would scoot over.

"Thanks," and they both knew he wasn't really going to drink it, but it was okay, cause Fraser was sitting next to him, his warm thigh pressed up against Ray's, and that was the only real reason Fraser'd come out there anyway.

It made Ray grin, and he stared into the warm mug between his hands.

"Didn't mean to wake you," he said, watching the tea slosh around the sides of the mug as Fraser pushed off lightly and set the swing in motion.

Fraser only responded with a half-shrug, and leaned his shoulder into Ray's. They found an easy rhythm, back and forth, rocking on a swing in the middle of the night like some old married couple who'd been together for years and didn't need to speak to each other.

And maybe it was okay that Chicago was far away, cause they couldn't do this there. Not unless you counted sitting out on the fire escape, which wasn't very comfortable and besides, Ray didn't want to think about Chicago right now, or about going back, or about leaving Fraser.

"You think I'll get used to it?" Ray asked, nodding once at the sun.

Fraser's eyes were soft when he turned to Ray, but they looked determined, as well. "I'd like to find out," he answered.

There were plenty of times when Ray didn't understand a word Fraser said, but other times they sort of smacked Ray in the head. He had to look away, back out at the sun, and it was still gleaming as big and endless as it had at noon.

"Yeah," he agreed, and slid his hand into Fraser's, lacing their fingers together. "Me, too."