Our Dancing Days
by SDWolfpup
Word Count: 2250
Pairing: Fraser/Vecchio
Summary: Fraser – and Ray – had stopped leaping onto speeding trains in the name of justice years ago, but some slights against Canada still couldn’t be ignored.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Alliance and the creators of Due South. They're not mine, not even a little.
Author's Note: Written for ds_shakespeare. Thanks to brynnmck for beta’ing and being persistent. :)
Quote: 119. For you and I are past our dancing days. - Romeo & Juliet, I.v.
“No way.”
“We can’t let him get away with that, Ray.”
“We can and we will. You’ll be late for your meeting.”
“Helene and Jean-Francois won’t mind.”
Ray kept walking, hoping Benny would just follow him, but he knew it was fruitless before he even took a step. Fraser – and Ray – had stopped leaping onto speeding trains in the name of justice years ago, but some slights against Canada still couldn’t be ignored.
Ray heaved a sigh and was grateful it was at least summer. Summer in Regina, sure, but summer nonetheless. It was better than that summer they’d spent at Yellowknife. “Fine,” he said, turning back to see Fraser sniffing a candy wrapper. “Which way did he go, George?”
“George?”
“Never mind. Old joke.”
“I see.” Fraser crumpled the wrapper in his hand. “He went this way.” They headed down a narrow alley, the corners dimmer than Ray would’ve liked. He knew he should’ve brought his glasses with him. Glasses. It was criminal he had to wear them at all when Fraser still had perfectly fine eyesight. It probably is something in the water, Ray thought, watching Fraser taking careful steps ahead of him. He looked like he was sniffing the air.
“Caught a scent, Benny?”
“I think so, Ray. One moment.” Fraser ducked around the corner at the end of the alley, there was a muffled “Hey!” and then he popped back around, perp in hand. “Here we are,” Benny said, cheerful.
Ray looked the guy up and down: an old flannel shirt, torn jeans, but shoes that cost almost as much as Ray’s own. He didn’t get kids’ fashion today. “Never stop running when a Mountie’s following you,” Ray said.
“I didn’t do anything,” the kid whined.
“On the contrary,” Fraser said. “You littered. We both saw you.”
The kid was going to argue, Ray could see it in the set of his jaw. Ray checked his watch. “Listen, kid-“
“Daniel.”
“Fine, Daniel, you can argue all you want, but the Mountie’s right and we all know it. You’re busted. Take your lumps and let us get on with our day.”
The kid, Daniel, shrunk back a little from Ray. “Are you gonna beat me up?”
“No, you moron, they’re proverbial lumps.”
Fraser let Daniel go and pulled out the notebook he always kept with him. “Full name and address, please.”
“What? Why?”
“We need to know where to send the ticket.”
Daniel gave Ray the “is this guy for real?” look that Ray knew intimately. Ray nodded, sending back his well-practiced, “yes he is and you better do what he says before I have to get violent” look. He’d perfected the violence portion of that one during his time as Langoustini.
It worked, of course. Ray hadn’t met a Canadian yet that it hadn’t worked on. If his shoulder didn’t ache still, he’d wish for better criminals, but he went through enough pain just keeping Fraser focused on the litterbugs.
Daniel forked over his name, address, and birth date, and probably would’ve finished with his bank account information if Fraser hadn’t flipped the notebook closed. “That will do. Thank you kindly.”
“Is that it?”
“For now. Just remember, Daniel, littering isn’t just against the law, but it dirties up our beautiful home. As Plato said: ‘This City is what it is because our citizens are what they are.’”
The kid nodded and glanced over at Ray. Ray jerked his head, his patented “get out of here before I put my loafer in your ass” look, and Daniel took off at a run.
“Shall we?” Fraser gestured for Ray to lead the way out of the alley. “We’re still perfectly on time and we managed to teach that young man a lesson. I’d call this a successful morning.”
“Yeah, that’s because you’re a sadist.”
“Understood, Ray.” They grinned at each other.
Ray blinked against the sunlight as they neared the edge of the alley. “I still want to stop and get some coffee on the-“
“Give me your money!” A form seemingly materialized out of the morning sun at the alley entrance, bringing them to a stop.
Ray blinked, hard, and as his eyes adjusted, the glint of metal made his stomach twist. Crap. “I don’t think you want to do this, pal.”
“Oh yeah?” The man patted the barrel of his gun. “I got a friend that says otherwise.”
Ray rolled his eyes. What did a guy have to do in this country to find a decent criminal?
“I rather agree with my partner,” Fraser said. “You really don’t want to do this.”
“Give me your money and nobody gets hurt, eh?”
“We don’t have any money.”
The guy was at least smart enough to not believe that. “That jacket isn’t a fake, pal. I’m serious.” He gestured with the gun again, and with his finger so near the trigger, Ray was nervous the guy would startle and accidentally shoot one of them.
Ray considered their options: give the guy their money, which Fraser would never agree to even though it was the smartest thing to do; or try to take the guy down, knowing they probably couldn’t move fast enough to avoid at least one of them getting shot. Ray was definitely for the first plan.
“Whatever your need for this money is, I’m sure there are better, legal ways to acquire it. Perhaps we could help you.”
Why Mounties didn’t get screened for common sense, Ray would never figure. “Fraser,” he hissed, warning him off. Fraser inclined his head, briefly. “Hey, buddy. I’m gonna reach into my back pocket for my wallet, ok? Don’t shoot me.”
“Ray, we can’t give him our money.”
“Yes, Benny, we can. Watch me.” Ray started moving his hand ever-so-slowly to his pocket. The guy’s gun drooped, following the movement of Ray’s hand, until the barrel was pointed right at Ray’s crotch. Great.
He gripped the expensive leather tightly and started to slowly lift the wallet back up, relieved when the barrel started to drift further down in the mugger’s excitement to get at the money.
“Throw it to me. And no funny stuff.”
Ray tilted his wrist and just as he started the toss, he felt the tension in Fraser. They’d been together long enough now that even that tiny movement telegraphed the entirety of Fraser’s plan, and time spread out as Ray watched the leather square sailing towards the mugger, followed shortly by Fraser’s body.
“Dammit!” Ray shouted, following a hair behind Fraser. The wallet reached the guy, and then Fraser slammed into him, too, just as the gun went off. The bullet impacted where Ray’s leg had been only a moment before, sending shards of concrete flying. Ray bodychecked the other two and the three of them went careening to the ground as time resumed normal, painful speed. Even though it was the mugger who landed square on the ground, Ray’s elbow cracked into the sidewalk and his arm went momentarily numb before it sparked with bright, sharp pain.
They’d managed to fall out of the alley entirely. Ray scrambled to his feet, stepping on the guy’s knee as he did so. The mugger’s cry of pain made Ray feel a little better about his own arm. Fraser gestured at one of the crowd that had started to form and they rolled the guy over, pinning him down, while Ray picked up the gun with his good arm.
Fraser did his Mountie thing and wrapped the guy’s hands with his own belt. A woman pushed her way through the crowd and approached Ray.
“Has anyone been shot? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Ray tried to show her how fine he was but the pain in his arm made him gasp.
“Yes, you look fine. Let met look at that, I’m a doctor.”
A short, round man came out of a nearby deli with a sandwich on the plate. “Here, boys, have some food!”
So while Ray and Fraser sat on the curb waiting for a locally appointed Mountie to come pick up their charge, the doctor checked out Ray’s arm and pronounced it neither broken nor sprained, just bruised, and the deli guy fed them shockingly good pastrami sandwiches with crisp pickle spears on the side. Ray called Helene to say they’d be late for their meeting, and she fussed at him over the phone for a couple of minutes before he begged off. The mugger sweltered in the sun, being watched by two other volunteers who were engaging Fraser in a rousing question and answer session about Canadian history and the development of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
It was par for the course in Canada but still really damned weird. Ray had to admit this was better than Chicago, though, where they probably would have been heckled by the bystanders, if the mugger hadn’t just shot them both in the first place. Ray watched Fraser with the volunteers, noted the way the lines around his eyes deepened when he smiled, the gray showing at his temples. He and Benny were both nearly fifty and still they had to take down muggers and apprehend litterers. Ray had thought that by now things would have all balanced out and they could maybe take a break for awhile. His elbow throbbed, emphasizing the point. Ok, sure, Ray had lots of things to make up for after Vegas, but surely Fraser had more than paid his dues.
“Is everything all right, Ray?” Fraser touched his arm, his fingers gentle.
“Yeah, I’m fine, Benny. I was just thinking about karma.”
Fraser’s fingers slid down Ray’s arm, until his warm hand covered Ray’s own where it was resting on his leg. “I’m sure Mr. Johnson will have time to consider the error of his ways. I’ve given him my number at the Depot Division for when he gets out.”
“Benny,” Ray said, sighing.
Fraser watched him, expectant. “Yes, Ray?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Ray turned his hand over so their fingers slipped together, and he held tightly to Fraser’s hand until the local force arrived.
It took another half hour to get everything squared away, and for Ray to argue Fraser down from paying the deli owner for their sandwiches. He’d eventually won that one by sheer stubbornness and the owner’s flat refusal to take the money Fraser kept trying to put in his hand. Ray had to admire the guy’s dexterity.
“Thank you again, sir,” Fraser was saying, making one last attempt at handing over the money.
Ray grabbed Fraser’s arm and tugged him down the street. “Come on, Benny. We’ll be even later and this meeting’s already gonna take hours as it is.”
Fraser gave the man one last wave and fell in step. “You didn’t have to come with me, Ray. They just want to know about the RCMP Academy right now, though I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you later once they get into the global impact of the Mounted Police.”
“Global impact?”
“Yes, Ray. The RCMP served with distinction in both the world wars, just for starters.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a good thing I did come with you. You would’ve gotten into even more trouble on your own with that mugger.”
“I believe I could have talked him down. You didn’t need to distract him with your wallet.”
“Distract him?” Ray shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to distract him, I was trying to get him to leave us alone.”
“Whatever for, Ray? Especially with the two of us, he posed little threat.”
“He had a gun, Benny, with actual bullets in it, not imaginary Canadian bullets. This is what’s wrong with you.” Ray stopped and laid his hands on Fraser’s chest. “Neither one of us was invincible before – God knows we’ve got enough scars to prove it – but we’re even less invincible now.”
Fraser tilted his head, understanding lighting his eyes. “Now that we’re older, you mean.”
“Yes, now that we’re older. I’m not saying we should be put out to pasture or nothing, but I know I’m gonna wake up tomorrow with a lot more sore muscles than I would’ve ten years ago. And so are you.”
“This isn’t about your new glasses prescription, is it?”
“Fraser.”
“Sorry.” Fraser smiled. “I know neither one of us moves as quickly as we used to, Ray, but we’re wiser now-“
“One of us is.”
He inclined his head. “And we approach things with that experience behind us.”
“He almost blew my leg off.”
“We’ve been together long enough that I knew you’d move when I did.”
Ray rolled his eyes. “You know, some day? Some day we’re gonna have a plan going into a situation, instead of making one up as we go along.”
“I don’t know, Ray. I think it’s worked for us so far.”
“It’s a miracle.” Ray patted Fraser’s chest, and they both smiled. “I still want my coffee at Maureen’s. And we should pick up some extra aspirin on the way home. My elbow’s killing me.”
“Some say the endorphins released during sexual intercourse help heal muscle soreness.”
“Is that true?”
“I have no idea, but I’m willing to experiment.” Fraser’s face was all false innocence and bright, hot eyes.
Ray laughed. All these years, and Fraser could still make him laugh. “You’re a dirty old man, Benny. I like that about you.” He slung his arm around Fraser’s shoulders and they walked side-by-side, maybe a little slower, the rest of the way.