Tease Challenge, by joandarck
Pairing: Fraser/RayK, maybe Welsh/Frannie
Length: 1150 words
Rating: G
Summary: Undercover in a gay bar. Really.
Suited
Welsh had thought, wrapped in the glowing sense of peace brought on by a particularly good turkey sandwich, that he'd picked the best detective for the assignment, the one most likely to blend in, maybe even get a kick out of it. Take the Mountie out for a Shirley Temple, karaoke their way through a few show tunes, bust up a major drug deal... nice night on the town, right? Some guys would be grateful. Instead, Kowalski was being difficult about it, skittish.
But Kowalski was difficult about physicals and vacation time and ordering lunch, too. Didn't mean you couldn't handle him. Welsh watched with something close to patience as Kowalski paced and turned from side to side, holster slapping on the t-shirt, looking around for support.
"I'm not hearing this. I'm not hearing this." He stuck an arm out, making Frannie lurch back, briefly overbalanced by her blue-wrapped bosoms. "Pinch me. OW!"
"It's an easy job, Vecchio. Just act like you and Constable Fraser here are, uh..." Welsh stirred the air. "You know. Close."
Fraser nodded - although whether he actually got what he was nodding about, that was another question - turning his head as Ray started whoa-ing louder, scrawny arms cutting the air like propellers. Frannie found herself a place to sit out of harm's way, on the edge of Welsh's desk. She crossed her legs.
"This is a joke, right? Funny ha-ha. No one would buy that."
"Well, we are close, Ray," Fraser said reasonably. "At least, relatively speaking, given that we are both men, and trained not to discuss our feelings."
The hand that had landed across Fraser's chest stopped and started tapping. "Yes. Yes, we are both men. That is my point, Fraser, as a matter of fact, that we are both men. And at this bar, men, who are close with other men, are a lot closer than the two of us are. And what I'm saying is nobody is going to believe that we're like that."
Miss Vecchio coughed into her fist.
"Hey!" Kowalski glared her down. "Nobody."
In the afternoon glaze, the Mountie's eyes were light and blue as a baby kitten's. "You're concerned that people won't believe we're a couple," he said.
Kowalski clapped his hands together, and his jaw, and awarded Fraser fifty points for catching up.
"I take it you have not been frequenting the water cooler of late," Welsh said, drawing it out in hopes that Francesca would take over, although he'd been thinking Kowalski needed a private tip on the subject of discretion for some time now.
She just coughed again, even bigger, really putting her back into it.
"The lieutenant is quite right, Ray," Fraser said. "Actually, a number of your colleagues have asked me if we're seeing each other, in a sexual or romantic sense. It seems to be a common speculation."
Kowalski's jaw was flapping in the breeze. "That's... no, no, no way. They were puttin' ya on. Everybody knows I love women. You know I love women," he said to Francesca. "Tell him."
"I guess," Frannie said, snorting.
"Listen to your partner, Vecchio," Welsh said, suddenly tired out by the effort of not watching Frannie re-cross her legs above the knee. He noted that Kowalski did not seem to have this problem. "It's crazy, but somehow I think you two can pull it off."
"For - will you listen to me? We'd never be able to fake this. Look." Exasperated and not to say spooked, Kowalski turned and grabbed Fraser's face in both hands, pulling him in for a smack on the lips.
Uh, no, more like a real kiss. Yeah, it went into full-on smoochville, the side of Fraser's cheek going pink under Kowalski's long fingers. The clock kept ticking, and Frannie stared, covering her own mouth. The sharp line of Fraser's uniformed back melted down into a curve, and he turned his head like Clark Gable, and Kowalski's breathing could be heard across the room.
Welsh rubbed his forehead. He tolerated loose cannons. Questions of decorum did not keep him up nights. However, he did have a certain feeling that slipping your unofficial partner some tongue was not in the book under 'appropriate liaising techniques.' ...On the up side, it looked like a win for Canadian-American relations.
With an audible pop, Kowalski broke off the kiss and wheeled back to face front, rumpled and diagonal. "You see? It's hopeless."
"Right, Ray," Francesca said, rolling her eyes. For once, she wouldn't look at Fraser.
"What? C'mon, you saw. No one would buy that. Right?"
"You're on the case, Vecchio," Welsh said, raising his voice to nail down the order. "You've got a wire to pick up before five; I suggest you get on it. Oh, and one more thing, Detective. In the interests of protecting the reputation of this station and your fellow officers..."
Kowalski broke his retreat sullenly.
"Find a decent shirt to wear?" Welsh ignored any reaction to that and gestured to encourage Fraser to move his partner along. "Maybe you can lend him something, Constable."
"Yes, sir."
Frannie popped off the desk and tripped over to pace Kowalski on the way out, a little too bright-eyed and acting like Fraser didn't exist. Welsh watched her warily. "Cheer up, bro. You'll do fine. Hey, what's the address of that bar, again? You know, it's just about time for another night out with the girls. Rhonda in Records, Nicki, the desk sergeant... bring a few cameras..."
Kowalski snapped his fingers. "You know what? I just remembered. I hate you."
She gave him a playful shove that sent him careening off the doorframe, and smirked over her shoulder as he hopped around and followed. "I don't know what you're complaining about-"
"Ow, Frannie, ow, that hurt."
"-At least you've got a date tonight."
"-Think you bruised my rib."
Her voice drifted in from the bullpen, viciously loud and cheerful. "Maybe someone can kiss it better."
Welsh lowered his hand to the desk and looked up at the Mountie, who had lingered behind, possibly contemplating some kind of apology. His lip was still wet.
"Constable..." Welsh sighed. "If this assignment... That is, if circumstances prove... If it should be necessary to repeat that performance. Just... try and avoid getting arrested. Would you? For me?"
"Of course, sir." Fraser nodded reassuringly and went out.
Alone once more, Welsh checked on the status of his ulcer. Normal, just the usual low burn. Love was in the air like a floating monkey wrench, ready to crack up the tidy workings of his station; it was almost disturbing how little this disturbed him. He pressed his hands to his stomach, hoping for at least an extra twinge, maybe a spasm or two.
Nothing. Maybe he should let Miss Vecchio make him some of that cappuccino.
Length: 1150 words
Rating: G
Summary: Undercover in a gay bar. Really.
Suited
Welsh had thought, wrapped in the glowing sense of peace brought on by a particularly good turkey sandwich, that he'd picked the best detective for the assignment, the one most likely to blend in, maybe even get a kick out of it. Take the Mountie out for a Shirley Temple, karaoke their way through a few show tunes, bust up a major drug deal... nice night on the town, right? Some guys would be grateful. Instead, Kowalski was being difficult about it, skittish.
But Kowalski was difficult about physicals and vacation time and ordering lunch, too. Didn't mean you couldn't handle him. Welsh watched with something close to patience as Kowalski paced and turned from side to side, holster slapping on the t-shirt, looking around for support.
"I'm not hearing this. I'm not hearing this." He stuck an arm out, making Frannie lurch back, briefly overbalanced by her blue-wrapped bosoms. "Pinch me. OW!"
"It's an easy job, Vecchio. Just act like you and Constable Fraser here are, uh..." Welsh stirred the air. "You know. Close."
Fraser nodded - although whether he actually got what he was nodding about, that was another question - turning his head as Ray started whoa-ing louder, scrawny arms cutting the air like propellers. Frannie found herself a place to sit out of harm's way, on the edge of Welsh's desk. She crossed her legs.
"This is a joke, right? Funny ha-ha. No one would buy that."
"Well, we are close, Ray," Fraser said reasonably. "At least, relatively speaking, given that we are both men, and trained not to discuss our feelings."
The hand that had landed across Fraser's chest stopped and started tapping. "Yes. Yes, we are both men. That is my point, Fraser, as a matter of fact, that we are both men. And at this bar, men, who are close with other men, are a lot closer than the two of us are. And what I'm saying is nobody is going to believe that we're like that."
Miss Vecchio coughed into her fist.
"Hey!" Kowalski glared her down. "Nobody."
In the afternoon glaze, the Mountie's eyes were light and blue as a baby kitten's. "You're concerned that people won't believe we're a couple," he said.
Kowalski clapped his hands together, and his jaw, and awarded Fraser fifty points for catching up.
"I take it you have not been frequenting the water cooler of late," Welsh said, drawing it out in hopes that Francesca would take over, although he'd been thinking Kowalski needed a private tip on the subject of discretion for some time now.
She just coughed again, even bigger, really putting her back into it.
"The lieutenant is quite right, Ray," Fraser said. "Actually, a number of your colleagues have asked me if we're seeing each other, in a sexual or romantic sense. It seems to be a common speculation."
Kowalski's jaw was flapping in the breeze. "That's... no, no, no way. They were puttin' ya on. Everybody knows I love women. You know I love women," he said to Francesca. "Tell him."
"I guess," Frannie said, snorting.
"Listen to your partner, Vecchio," Welsh said, suddenly tired out by the effort of not watching Frannie re-cross her legs above the knee. He noted that Kowalski did not seem to have this problem. "It's crazy, but somehow I think you two can pull it off."
"For - will you listen to me? We'd never be able to fake this. Look." Exasperated and not to say spooked, Kowalski turned and grabbed Fraser's face in both hands, pulling him in for a smack on the lips.
Uh, no, more like a real kiss. Yeah, it went into full-on smoochville, the side of Fraser's cheek going pink under Kowalski's long fingers. The clock kept ticking, and Frannie stared, covering her own mouth. The sharp line of Fraser's uniformed back melted down into a curve, and he turned his head like Clark Gable, and Kowalski's breathing could be heard across the room.
Welsh rubbed his forehead. He tolerated loose cannons. Questions of decorum did not keep him up nights. However, he did have a certain feeling that slipping your unofficial partner some tongue was not in the book under 'appropriate liaising techniques.' ...On the up side, it looked like a win for Canadian-American relations.
With an audible pop, Kowalski broke off the kiss and wheeled back to face front, rumpled and diagonal. "You see? It's hopeless."
"Right, Ray," Francesca said, rolling her eyes. For once, she wouldn't look at Fraser.
"What? C'mon, you saw. No one would buy that. Right?"
"You're on the case, Vecchio," Welsh said, raising his voice to nail down the order. "You've got a wire to pick up before five; I suggest you get on it. Oh, and one more thing, Detective. In the interests of protecting the reputation of this station and your fellow officers..."
Kowalski broke his retreat sullenly.
"Find a decent shirt to wear?" Welsh ignored any reaction to that and gestured to encourage Fraser to move his partner along. "Maybe you can lend him something, Constable."
"Yes, sir."
Frannie popped off the desk and tripped over to pace Kowalski on the way out, a little too bright-eyed and acting like Fraser didn't exist. Welsh watched her warily. "Cheer up, bro. You'll do fine. Hey, what's the address of that bar, again? You know, it's just about time for another night out with the girls. Rhonda in Records, Nicki, the desk sergeant... bring a few cameras..."
Kowalski snapped his fingers. "You know what? I just remembered. I hate you."
She gave him a playful shove that sent him careening off the doorframe, and smirked over her shoulder as he hopped around and followed. "I don't know what you're complaining about-"
"Ow, Frannie, ow, that hurt."
"-At least you've got a date tonight."
"-Think you bruised my rib."
Her voice drifted in from the bullpen, viciously loud and cheerful. "Maybe someone can kiss it better."
Welsh lowered his hand to the desk and looked up at the Mountie, who had lingered behind, possibly contemplating some kind of apology. His lip was still wet.
"Constable..." Welsh sighed. "If this assignment... That is, if circumstances prove... If it should be necessary to repeat that performance. Just... try and avoid getting arrested. Would you? For me?"
"Of course, sir." Fraser nodded reassuringly and went out.
Alone once more, Welsh checked on the status of his ulcer. Normal, just the usual low burn. Love was in the air like a floating monkey wrench, ready to crack up the tidy workings of his station; it was almost disturbing how little this disturbed him. He pressed his hands to his stomach, hoping for at least an extra twinge, maybe a spasm or two.
Nothing. Maybe he should let Miss Vecchio make him some of that cappuccino.