Created with the Internetdump HTML Editor
Rated R
Disclaimer: Due South belongs to Alliance, not to me. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Renfield Turnbull, RCMP, tried very hard to focus on what Inspecter
Thatcher was saying, but her voice seemed to have taken on a buzzing
quality, and the words were unintelligeble. He found himself
unsuccessfully trying to repress a giggle over what Ray Kowalski would
probably say about that. He could almost hear the detective muttering
to Fraser that not being able to understand Thatcher's speech was the
high point of the evening.
Turnbull frowned. Why didn't Ray every mutter anything to him? Fraser
wasn't the only mountie in Chicago, he thought indignantly. Then he
slumped in his chair. Yes he was, as far as everyone; especially a
certain grumpy, rumbled, lovely policeman, was concerned.
The sound of clapping snapped him out of his reverie. Thatcher had
finshed her speech to the International Law Enforcement Association, and
was returning to her seat. Fraser quickly jumped up and pulled her
chair out for her.
"An excellent speech, sir. The audience was spellbound," he
complimented.
The sound of sucking came from the direction of Ray Kowalski.
"Was there something that you wanted to add, detective?" Thatcher
bristled. (Turnbull had never understood her animosity for Ray)
"No, no. I got some chicken stuck in my teeth and I'm trying to suck it
out, that's all," Ray smirked maliciously, or delightfully depending on
which mountie was making the interpretation.
Turnbull smiled adoringly at Ray, who looked at him, narrowed his eyes
and turned back to Fraser. "Well Frase, this has been a real slice of .
. something, but I gotta go now. There's a rerun of Gilligan's Island
that I can't miss. The Professor thinks up a brilliant way to get them
all rescued, but at the last minute Gilligan does something stupid and
ruins it. "
Fraser stood up and motioned for Ray to join him. The two conferred in
low voices for several minutes. Turnbull was only able to catch a few
bits and pieces of the conversation.
"I have to stay with the Inspector." "He's not my problem" "But he's
in no condition. ." "Sloshed to the gills." "It's only a few blocks out
of your way." "He makes me nervous. " "Ray, I know I can count on you."
"Why do I alway get the dirty jobs?"
At last they returned to the table and Ray said, "C'mon Turnbull, I'm
driving you home." Turnbull looked at him, stunned. Ray sighed
impatiently, "Pitter Patter, let's get at her!' He grabbed the tipsy
mountie by his jacket and hauled him out of his chair.
Turnbull wobbled
for a moment and then, started to fall. Ray caught him by the waist and
straightened him up. Turnbull found himself staring down into Ray's
annoyed eyes.
"You have the bluest eyes I've ever seen Detective," he slurred.
"Geez Fraser, I'm gonna want hazard pay for this," Ray complained,
dragging Turnbull out of the club.
With Turnbull clinging to him for support, Ray made his way outside and
handed his receipt to the parking attendant. "It's the black GTO."
The attendant looked at Ray with his arms around the tall, handsome
mountie and winked knowingly. "I'll just be a minute. I know you two
are anxious to get at it, I mean, go home."
"Just for that, he's not getting a tip," Ray muttered to Turnbull, who
smiled at him in total joy. "You are so drunk, Turnbull," he said.
Having managed, with great difficulty, to shove Turnbull into the car,
Ray revved up the engine and headed for Turnbull's apartment. He
sneaked a glance at Turnbull, who seemed slightly green.
"You're not gonna hurl, are you Turnbull?" he asked nervously. "I just
got the upholstery cleaned, so try to hold it in till you get home,
okay?"
Turnbull nodded slowly. "I love you, Ray," he said solemnly.
"WHAT?!" Ray shrieked, slamming on the brakes.
"I said I'm not going to throw up."
Ray thought about this for a moment. Could it be that he had heard
wrong? The whole evening had worn his nerves to a frazzle, as any
evening spent with the Ice Queen would. He had probably imagined it, he
decided. "Okay," he said and continued driving.
Several minutes later and with a big sigh of relief, he pulled up in
front of Turnbull's building. He considered shoving the mountie out of
the car and going home, but, glancing around, he realized that this was
a particularly bad neighborhood and the drunken mountie would be an easy
mark for any of the thugs that were hanging around.
Climbing out of the car, he went around to the passenger side. He
stopped to give th nearest hoodlum his best "Yeah, I'm crazy. I might
just kill you" look, before hauling Turnbull out. He pushed the
stumbing man ahead of him and into the building.
Fortunately, Turnbull lived on the first floor, because there was no way
that he was going to drag the large Canadian up the stairs, Ray thought.
Stopping in front of apartment 1 C, he asked, "Okay Turnbull, gimme
your key."
Turnbull clumsily patted his pocket. "I don't know where it is," he
moaned.
Grumbling, Ray leaned him up against the wall, and began a thorough
search. While frisking the mountie, Ray couldn't help but notice his
well muscled body. Is there a rule that says all mounties have to be
gorgeous,
hardbodies, he wondered, and smiled ruefully. I guess that leaves me
out.
He glanced up and saw Turnbull regarding him with big, puppy dog eyes.
"What?" he demanded. "Did you remember where you put the key?'
"No. I was just thinking that you have a very nice smile," Turnbull
sighed.
Ray rolled his eyes and then inspiration hit him. "Give me your hat!" he
ordered. Turnbull did so, and Ray checked inside. Sure enough, tucked
away with Turnbull's Canadian money, was the key to his apartment.
Hurriedly unlocking the door, he propelled the mountie inside.
Groping around, he found a light switch and flicked it on. He found
himself in a small, neat, surprisingly cheerful room. He guided
Turnbull to the overstuffed couch. He tossed the embroidered pillows
onto the floor and shoved Turnbull down.
"Well, you're home, so I'm gonna leave now, Okay?" Ray said, backing
slowly towards the door.
"Wait," Turnbull pleaded. "Can't you stay for a little while?"
"Uh.. no. Got plans. Gotta go."
"Please, detective."
"Look Turnbull, you need to sleep it off, all right?"
"I'd sleep better if you were with me, " Turnbull said, then threw his
hands over his mouth in horror.
Ray's mouth dropped open. "You're making a pass at me," he said,
disbelievingly.
"No, no I'm not."
"Yes, you are!"
"Well, then, I am extremely drunk and I think that factor should be
taken into account," argued Turnbull.
"So you admit it."
"Well. . yes."
Ray bounced from one foot to the other, seemingly trying to decide
whether to stay or bolt for the door. He took a step towards Turnbull.
"You know, you are really drunk."
"Yes, I am," Turnbull agreed.
"So maybe tomorrow when you sober up, you'll regret saying this, if you
even remember it at all."
Turnbull cocked his head to one side thoughtfully, "Even if I don't
remember what I did tonight. I'll still feel the same way about you."
Ray frowned. "Maybe and maybe not. We'll just have to see."
"And if I do feel the same way?"
Ray smiled and wagged his finger, as he danced lightly towards the door.
"You're just going to have to wait till tomorrow to find out."
the end.
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