Due South - Canada, Eh?
Posting this now as I just discovered I will not have time at lunch. If I get a lunch...
Title: Canada, Eh?
Genre: Due South, Benton Fraser/Ray K
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~ 1,025 words
Synopsis: It was supposed to be a vacation but, then again, when did anything ever go according to plan?
Author’s Notes: For the cliche_bingo entry “pretending to be married”
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, people with a lot of money do. I’m just borrowing them and making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ray was not pouting. He was a trained police detective and a grown man. He did not pout. He was getting pretty damned close to it, but he was not there quite yet. “But it’s our vacation,” he pointed out. He did not whine either, despite the look to the contrary that Fraser was currently giving him.
“Sergeant Frobisher would consider this a personal favor and has specifically requested our assistance,” Benton reminded him. Again.
Ray got it, really he did. He remembered all the times in which Benton was technically off duty but stepped in to lend a helping hand and really had no leg to stand on in this argument. It was just... it was a vacation. He’d kind of like to do vacation-like things. True, the vacation was in Canada, and don’t even ask him how that one happened, but still, they should understand the word here, right?
“The projected timeframe of the entire operation is forty-eight hours, less if we prove particularly successful,” Fraser explained, pausing to lace and tie a boot with enviable proficiency. “Sergeant Frobisher has already contacted the Chicago Police Department to ensure your vacation is extended to cover this timeline, and offered the thanks of the Canadian Government in this matter.”
That brought Ray up just a bit short. “Uh, he didn’t explain exactly what this sting was, did he?” he asked, hoping it came across as attitude and not as mortal fear of what would happen to him if the others in the station found out.
“Of course not,” Fraser assured him. “That would be a violation of confidentiality provisions and would prove counteractive to this being an undercover event.”
Ray let out a breath he had barely realized he had been holding. There was helping out a friend and neighboring government, and then there was taking years of ribbing from the rest of the department. One he was willing to do. The other? Not so much.
Focusing now on the task at hand, he turned a critical eye towards Benton’s supposedly situational-appropriate attire. Gone was the bright red wool jack and knee-high leather boots. Gone even was the standard thermal shirt he wore in his off hours. Most importantly, gone was the damned hat. Instead, he was decked out in a simple white t-shirt that was tight in all the right places, jeans that were snug in even better places, and a pair of hiking boots. Nothing that screamed for attention unless you were looking for precisely that kind of consideration and, more importantly, nothing that screamed, “I’m an undercover cop trying to bust a gay drug ring.” It wasn’t flashy, like what he’d see at pretty much any club on any street in Chicago, but it seemed oddly appropriate for the extremely practical and down to earth bit of Canada that he was grudgingly coming to know on better terms.
Frobisher chose that moment to check in on them, sparing a glance in Fraser’s direction. “I see you have changed into civilian clothing for this mission,” he nodded approvingly. Turning to Ray, the approving grin ratcheted up another notch. “That’s the spirit, Detective Kowalski! You should blend right in with the homosexuals!
Ray bit his lip to stop himself from saying something he would regret, glared at Fraser instead as he raised a finger as if to correct his mentor. He shook his head and Benton backed down, offering an apologetic shrug instead, knowing Ray had not yet changed from his standard gear and was wearing what he wore every day to work.
Frobisher gave them the run down once more. They were to infiltrate an exclusive club to determine the source of the tainted drugs and attempt to apprehend those targeting and nearly killing certain club goers. They were going as a couple as every single Mountie to enter the place had been met with closed lips and a toss on his or her ass to the curb. Ray was to keep Benton’s over-the-top protocol in check and Benton was to make sure Ray did not say anything to offend the locals.
Before he left, Frobisher tossed Ray a tiny velvet box. With a wink and a nod, he disappeared like some insane Canadian Kris Kringle, leaving Kowalski to sort out what he had just been given. He opened the box and had to stop and blink for a moment.
Inside were two identical golden bands, each intricately carved with what Ray was fairly certain Benton was going to tell him was some Inuit prayer of love or some such thing but looked oddly like a little bird and wolf.
“Um,” he said, at a loss for anything else.
Benton looked at the gift as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. He took the rings and held them up to the light to compare sizing, then handed Ray one while he slid the other onto his own finger. When Ray stared at it dumbly for a moment, Benton blinked at him and counseled, “You are aware that same sex marriage is entirely legal in Canada, correct?”
Ray still stared at the band. With a sigh, Benton took it from his palm and slid it onto the correct finger. Leaning in, letting his lips brush against the shell of his ear, he whispered, “Which means we don’t have to be afraid to be ourselves.”
Ray pulled back with a smile, suddenly not minding this particular interruption of his vacation nearly as much anymore.
Later, after the dealers were locked safely away in prison and the club owners had expounded their thanks upon the two law officers, Ray leaned back against the pillows on the too small bed of the cabin, holding his hand up to the light and letting the sun bounce off the gold in all directions. Fraser reached up and locked his fingers with his own, the metal bands clinking against each other as he leaned down for a kiss.
Frobisher had never asked for the rings back and neither one of them seemed particularly inclined to remind him of this fact. Ray was, however, eventually going to ask about the fruit basket left in the fridge.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Canada, Eh?
Genre: Due South, Benton Fraser/Ray K
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~ 1,025 words
Synopsis: It was supposed to be a vacation but, then again, when did anything ever go according to plan?
Author’s Notes: For the cliche_bingo entry “pretending to be married”
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, people with a lot of money do. I’m just borrowing them and making no profit from this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ray was not pouting. He was a trained police detective and a grown man. He did not pout. He was getting pretty damned close to it, but he was not there quite yet. “But it’s our vacation,” he pointed out. He did not whine either, despite the look to the contrary that Fraser was currently giving him.
“Sergeant Frobisher would consider this a personal favor and has specifically requested our assistance,” Benton reminded him. Again.
Ray got it, really he did. He remembered all the times in which Benton was technically off duty but stepped in to lend a helping hand and really had no leg to stand on in this argument. It was just... it was a vacation. He’d kind of like to do vacation-like things. True, the vacation was in Canada, and don’t even ask him how that one happened, but still, they should understand the word here, right?
“The projected timeframe of the entire operation is forty-eight hours, less if we prove particularly successful,” Fraser explained, pausing to lace and tie a boot with enviable proficiency. “Sergeant Frobisher has already contacted the Chicago Police Department to ensure your vacation is extended to cover this timeline, and offered the thanks of the Canadian Government in this matter.”
That brought Ray up just a bit short. “Uh, he didn’t explain exactly what this sting was, did he?” he asked, hoping it came across as attitude and not as mortal fear of what would happen to him if the others in the station found out.
“Of course not,” Fraser assured him. “That would be a violation of confidentiality provisions and would prove counteractive to this being an undercover event.”
Ray let out a breath he had barely realized he had been holding. There was helping out a friend and neighboring government, and then there was taking years of ribbing from the rest of the department. One he was willing to do. The other? Not so much.
Focusing now on the task at hand, he turned a critical eye towards Benton’s supposedly situational-appropriate attire. Gone was the bright red wool jack and knee-high leather boots. Gone even was the standard thermal shirt he wore in his off hours. Most importantly, gone was the damned hat. Instead, he was decked out in a simple white t-shirt that was tight in all the right places, jeans that were snug in even better places, and a pair of hiking boots. Nothing that screamed for attention unless you were looking for precisely that kind of consideration and, more importantly, nothing that screamed, “I’m an undercover cop trying to bust a gay drug ring.” It wasn’t flashy, like what he’d see at pretty much any club on any street in Chicago, but it seemed oddly appropriate for the extremely practical and down to earth bit of Canada that he was grudgingly coming to know on better terms.
Frobisher chose that moment to check in on them, sparing a glance in Fraser’s direction. “I see you have changed into civilian clothing for this mission,” he nodded approvingly. Turning to Ray, the approving grin ratcheted up another notch. “That’s the spirit, Detective Kowalski! You should blend right in with the homosexuals!
Ray bit his lip to stop himself from saying something he would regret, glared at Fraser instead as he raised a finger as if to correct his mentor. He shook his head and Benton backed down, offering an apologetic shrug instead, knowing Ray had not yet changed from his standard gear and was wearing what he wore every day to work.
Frobisher gave them the run down once more. They were to infiltrate an exclusive club to determine the source of the tainted drugs and attempt to apprehend those targeting and nearly killing certain club goers. They were going as a couple as every single Mountie to enter the place had been met with closed lips and a toss on his or her ass to the curb. Ray was to keep Benton’s over-the-top protocol in check and Benton was to make sure Ray did not say anything to offend the locals.
Before he left, Frobisher tossed Ray a tiny velvet box. With a wink and a nod, he disappeared like some insane Canadian Kris Kringle, leaving Kowalski to sort out what he had just been given. He opened the box and had to stop and blink for a moment.
Inside were two identical golden bands, each intricately carved with what Ray was fairly certain Benton was going to tell him was some Inuit prayer of love or some such thing but looked oddly like a little bird and wolf.
“Um,” he said, at a loss for anything else.
Benton looked at the gift as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. He took the rings and held them up to the light to compare sizing, then handed Ray one while he slid the other onto his own finger. When Ray stared at it dumbly for a moment, Benton blinked at him and counseled, “You are aware that same sex marriage is entirely legal in Canada, correct?”
Ray still stared at the band. With a sigh, Benton took it from his palm and slid it onto the correct finger. Leaning in, letting his lips brush against the shell of his ear, he whispered, “Which means we don’t have to be afraid to be ourselves.”
Ray pulled back with a smile, suddenly not minding this particular interruption of his vacation nearly as much anymore.
Later, after the dealers were locked safely away in prison and the club owners had expounded their thanks upon the two law officers, Ray leaned back against the pillows on the too small bed of the cabin, holding his hand up to the light and letting the sun bounce off the gold in all directions. Fraser reached up and locked his fingers with his own, the metal bands clinking against each other as he leaned down for a kiss.
Frobisher had never asked for the rings back and neither one of them seemed particularly inclined to remind him of this fact. Ray was, however, eventually going to ask about the fruit basket left in the fridge.
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.