If You Can't Be With The One You Love Pt. 2
by Blarney Stone
"So, what it all comes down to is; you punched out Inspecter Brisco?" Lt Welsh asked in a tired voice. He was seated at his desk, secretly enjoying the way Kowalski was fidgeting nervously.
"He really provoked me, sir," Kowalski responded, avoiding eye contact.
"Oh he provoked you? Well, that's different. What did he do, make a slur against the flag, insult your mother, kick your dog?"
"I don't have a dog, sir. I have a turtle."
"You know what I mean!!" Welsh exploded. "I want to know what he did to provoke you to punch him and I want to know NOW!"
"Uh, he's an asshole, sir," Ray said lamely.
"I've met the man, Kowalski. I know he's an asshole. But you just can't go around punching out people because they're assholes! What would we do for a government!" The phone rang, and as he picked it up he said, "You are about this far from being suspended. Welsh, here. Oh, hello Inspecter Brisco; I was just having a word with Detective Kowalski. .oh really? You don't say? Well, thanks for calling, Inspecter. You have a nice day too." He put the phone down thoughtfully. "Well, that was interesting."
"What did he say?"
"He said that you weren't to blame for the incident, that he provoked you. I don't suppose you're going to tell me what this is all about?"
"Uh.. no sir." Ray hurried out of Welsh's office. He sighed with relief and then noticed Turnbull standing by his desk.
"Good afternoon, Detective," Turnbull said, smiling brightly.
"Come with me," Ray snapped, grabbing him by the arm and hustling him down the hall and into the supply closet.
"Det. . Detective, what did you bring me in here for?" Turnbull asked
looking around nervously.
"Because this is one of the few places around here that a person can get any privacy. Now, what happened with Brisco? He just called Welsh and told him that the whole thing was his fault, which it was, but he doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who would admit it," Ray replied.
Turnbull glanced at Ray's hand, which was still on his arm. "I told him that if he didn't straighten things out with your Lieutenant, that I would be forced to file a sexual harassment complaint. Inspecter Brisco has political ambitions and this sort of thing would have followed him for years."
"Oh, well, thanks Turnbull." Ray noticed that his hand was still on Turnbull's arm and removed it quickly. "So, why didn't you file a compaint before now? Why did you let it go so far?"
Turnbull sighed, and turned away from Ray. "The whole thing was so embarassing. I can only imagine what my father would have said if he found out about it. He's always been so disappointed in me."
"Sorry, Turnbull."
"It's all right. Well," Turnbull faced him; his cheerful smile back in place. "What's are next move in the MacGregor case?"
"We go home and go to bed."
"W. . What?" Turnbull sputtered.
"We get some sleep, because we've got the midnight til 4 am shift watching Emmeline MacGregor's house," Ray smiled wickedly.
"Of course. I'll see you then." As Turnbull turned to go, a touch on his sleeve made him pause.
"You can call me Ray."
"Oh, then I guess you can call me Renfield."
"Renfield? I don't think so."
"Oh, okay, well, I'll see you then, Ray."
*********************
Ray and Turnbull sat in the GTO, parked about a block away from Emmeline MacGregor's home. Ray took a drink from a paper cup and gagged. "This coffee sucks!"
"Here, have some of this," Turnbull said, reaching in the backseat for the picnic basket that he had stowed there. He opened a large thermos and poured a cup of the aromatic brew. "It's vanilla roast. I hope you like it."
"I can't believe you packed a picnic basket to go on a stakeout. You're so weird." Ray took a tentative sip of the coffee, blinked in surprise and gulped the rest down. "Uh, can I have some more?"
"Certainly, I have plenty, and when you get hungry, I took the liberty of making smoked salmon sandwiches and key line pie."
Ray greedily took the cup Turnbull handed him. "So where did you learn to cook Turnbull? Is it part of the mountie training?"
"No. I used to work at my Uncle's restuarant in Ottawa during the summer when I was a teenager. It gave me some extra spending money and the chance to get away from my father for a few months. We never got along."
He busied himself dishing out the food.
"Yeah, I can relate. My father and I always seemed to be fighting over something stupid. It's only recently that we've been able to talk to each other at all. Let's change the subject," Ray suggested.
"Agreed. I brought along a deck of cards. We can play hearts or old maid, if you want," Turnbull held up the deck of cards invitingly.
Ray was surprise to find himself smiling. "Hearts or old maid?"
"Or any game you want to play. I'm a fast learner."
"We don't usually play cards on a stakeout, Turnbull," Ray gently informed him.
"Oh. What did you and Fraser do, then?"
Ray straightened up and focused his attention on the MacGregor house. "Fraser would tell me some long, boring story about an Inuit who married a moose, or something stupid like that. I mostly ignored him."
"Oh," Turnbull sounded disappointed. "I aways thought that you and he. . that the two of you had fun. I mean, it sounded like fun. Going off hunting down the bad guys with your friend. Being a hero."
Ray grinned at his companion. "You're jealous of Fraser!"
"No, I'm not. I _admire_ him. I've tried to model my career after his, but until recently I haven't had much of an opportunity. Then you came back from Canada and the MacGregor case came along. Tell me, Ray, why didn't you stay with Fraser in Canada?"
Caught by surprise, Ray was left floundering for an answer. "I. . I got tired of all the snow and, and the lack of indoor plumbing. I wanted to come back to Chicago. Understand?"
"Yes, I've always been fond of indoor plumbing myself." Turnbull hesitated before continuing. "It's just that I had the impression that you were with Fraser because he picked you."
"Picked me?" Ray squeaked.
"Yes. He picked you from all the others who wanted him, Detective Vecchio, Miss Vecchio, even Inspecter Thatcher, if you can believe it. I assumed that he waited for Detective Vecchio to come back from his assignment to end their relationship, which was the only decent thing to do, and then the two of you left together. I have to say I was pleased at his decision. Fraser was so lonely after Detective Vecchio left; I know he was only doing his duty, but. . Anyway, I felt that you would never leave him, no matter what. Yet you did, why?" Turnbull's eyes held no judgement, only curiosity.
Ray still stunned, finally said, "Look Turnbull, it wasn't my choice, okay? Fraser realized that he was still in love with Vecchio and took off to Florida to get him back. He made a big deal about how sorry he was for hurting me, and, and I believed him. So I came back here."
"I'm so sorry, Ray. I had no idea." Turnbull put a sympathetic hand on
Ray's shoulder.
Ray looked at the hand and then at Turnbull. Sitting there in the red serge, with the kindly expression on his face, he looked so much like Fraser. Without thinking, his hand went out to stroke his cheek. Turnbull gasped in surprise.
"This is crazy. Here I am about to make the same mistake again," Ray whispered, his fingers tracing Turnbull's lips.
"Perhaps this time it's not a mistake,"Turnbull anwered. He pulled the smaller man close and covered Ray's lips with his own. Ray's mouth opened hungrily, and Turnbull's tongue slid in, probing, clashing with Ray's.
Ray groaned lowly as he sucked Turnbull's tongue. His hands instinctively moved downward until he found the Sam Browne belt. Clumsily, he unbuckled it.
Turnbull released Ray's mouth long enough to moan, "Yes, please!!"
Ray fought to get the pants undone. He could see Turnbull's erection straining against the fabric. Turnbull pushed his hands away and finished the job. Ray's breath caught at the sight of Turnbull's swollen shaft. He smiled up at the mountie and said, "Trust me, you've got no reason to be jealous of Fraser. In fact, I thin he might have cause to be envious of you!"
Turnbull laughed shakily, and whispered, "Please Ray."
Ray smiled and maneuvered himself into a comfortable position in the cramped car. Taking hold of Turnbull's penis, he kissed the tip. Turnbull jumped, and nearly shoved Ray's head into the steering wheel.
"Take it easy, Turnbull. Havn't you ever had sex in a car before?"
"No."
"Why am I not surprise?" Ray muttered and turned his attention back to Turnbull's beautiful cock. He ran his tongue along the length of it, pleased that Turnbull was able to control his reaction this time. Even though he was probably ripping holes in the leather seats with his fingernails, Ray thought.
"Please, Ray, do it," Turnbull begged.
"Do what?" Ray asked mischieviously.
"You know."
"No, I don't. Tell me."
"PLEASE!!"
"Oh, all right, I hate to see a mountie beg. Okay that's not true. I _love_ to see a mountie beg, but I'm feeling merciful today. Of course, I'm never gonna be able to fit this huge thing into my mouth anyway,"
"RAY!!"
"Relax, Turnbull, no more games," Ray said gently, and took the trembling man's shaft into his mouth.
"Ohmmmyy.. " Turnbull moaned, his hips arching up desperately; his hands twining throught the detectives spikey hair.
Ray sucked mercilessly, surprised that the other didn't come immediately; he was so arroused. Turnbull uttered something close to a howl, and released into Ray's waiting mouth.
Ray looked up at Turnbull's sweaty face and smiled. With shakey hands, Turnbull pulled out a handkerchef and wiped his juices off Ray's chin.
"Thank you, Ray."
"It's your turn now, " Ray answered huskily.
And as fate would have it, a woman's scream sounded from the MacGregor house.
"Shit!" Ray swore, stumbling out of the car, and running in the direction of the scream.
"Drat!" Turnbull muttered following on his heels.
As he sped across the front lawn of the MacGregor house, Ray cursed himself for letting the situation with Turnbull get out of hand. If something had happened to Emmeline MacGregor because he couldn't keep his hands off the mountie. . Ray didn't want to think about it.
"Police, open up!" Ray yelled, preparing to kick the door in.
Emmeline MacGregor burst out, and threw herself into Turnbull's arms. "Oh, it was awful, just awful!" she sobbed.
Turnbull patted her on the back. "There, there Miss MacGregor.
Everything's all right now."
Gun drawn, Ray quickly ran through the house, but found no sign of anything wrong. He came back out and grimaced when he saw Emmeline still clinging to Turnbull. "Okay lady, what was all the screaming about?"
"There was a man, a horrible man, looking in my bedroom window!" she whimpered. "He was leering at me! Oh, I was so frightened!" She grabbed Turnbull in a hold that would have made Hulk Hogan proud.
"Detective Kowalski and I will have a look around the neighborhood for anyone suspicious," Turnbull wheezed, fearing for his ribs.
"Don't go! I can't bear to be alone," she pleaded, tightening her grip on Turnbull even more.
"Okay, okay, that's enough," Ray intervened and with great difficulty pried her loose. "Go inside and lock your door."
"But, but he might come back! Who will protect me?" she whined.
"Oh, I don't know, how about that Colt .45, which I hope you have a permit for, that I saw lying by your pillow." Motioning for Turnbull to follow him, Ray headed back to the car. Emmeline huffed angrily and slammed the door.
"Are we going to search the neighborhood for the Peeping Tom?" Turnbull asked, and then in a lowered voice said, "He might have seen us."
Ray blew his breath out in disgust. "There was no Peeping Tom. It was a scam, to see if anyone was watching the house. MacGregor probably called her and told her to cause that scene. Now he knows we're waiting for him. He won't show his face."
Turnbull climbed back into the car, and regarded Ray thoughtfully. "Are
we still going to watch the house?"
"We've got no choice. She's still the best lead we have."
"Oh." Turnbull accepted that. "Do you want a piece of pie?"
Ray favored him with a lopsided grin. "I don't think so. I didn't bring my toothbrush, and while you taste great and I'm sure the pie tastes great, I don't think they would taste great together."
Turnbull blushed all the way to his ears. "Yes, of course, you're right."
**********************
Exhausted, Ray fell into his bed. Nothing else had happend after Emmeline's perfomance. He and Turnbull had made small talk for the rest of their shift. Turnbull didn't have any Inuit stories, to tell, but he more than made up for it by recounting his weird childhood spent with his parents who ran a wax museum in Toronto. Ray smiled, thinking of the young boy who had spent many lonely days talking to the wax figures of his heroes.
At last, sleep came and he dreamed of snow. Of being kissed in the snow. Of realizing that all he had wanted to do for months was kiss the mountie.
"Fraser," he mumbled.
In his dream, Fraser whispered, "I've been so lonely Ray. I think that I could fall in love with you in time."
"Yes," he groaned.
The soft voice continued, "I won't lie to you, I'm in love with Ray Vecchio, but he doesn't want me anymore."
"It doesn't matter."
"It's not fair to ask you. ."
"I want to."
"Make love to me, Ray."
"Yes, oh god, yes!" and then he woke up, alone in his bedroom, with the taste of Turnbull still in his mouth. Staggering out of bed, he made his way to the bathroom. He threw off his clothes and stumbled into the shower.
Stupid, you're so stupid, he told himself. You thought that he would love someone like you. He hadn't, of course, within a month, Fraser realized that he couldn't forget Vecchio, and had ended their relationship and had flown to Florida to make one last ditch effort to win him back.
Ray didn't know if he had succeded. Would Vecchio dump Stella, who had dumped Ray, for Fraser, who had also dumped Ray? He smiled, you're such a loser, he thought.
Stepping out of the shower and looking at his face in the mirror, he asked, "So what happens to me while they work out their love triangle? Maybe I could get us on Jerry Springer. Nah, this is too wild even for him." He stared into the mirror for awhile, and then wrote 'I love you, Fraser' in the steam.
"Stupid, " he muttered and started back to bed. Outside, a car radio blared loudly, playing an old song. One line jumbed out at him. "If you can't be with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with."
Ray stopped in his tracks. "Best fucking advice I've heard all day!" he laughed and reached for the phone.
Turnbull was baking, as he often did, when he had things to think about. The phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hey Turnbull."
"Ray," Turnbull exclaimed delightedly, a warm glow forming in his stomach and other places.
"I was making gingerbread men and thinking about you."
"That's weird Turnbull."
"You're probably right. Why have you called?"
"I need a reason to call?"
"No, it just that. . "
"Okay, we had sex in my car. Is that a good enough reason to call you?"
"Yes, yes, I'm glad you called, and that we had sex in your car."
"That's good."
"Yes, it is."
"Turnbull?"
"Yes, Ray?"
"Why were you making gingerbread men and thinking of me?"
Turnbull hesitated a moment before answering. "I'm making the gingerbread men anatomically correct."
Stunned silence on Ray's end, then, "Turnbull, I want you to listen very carefully and do exactly what I say, okay?"
"Of course, Ray."
"I want you to take all the gingerbread men into your bedroom and lay them out on your bed. Then I want you to go to your refrigerator and get some jelly. Do you have jelly?"
"Oh yes! Jelly, jam, and marmalade!"
"That's perfect. I want you to take all the jelly, jam , and marmalade into your room and sit it by the bed. Then, and this is the important part, I want you to take off all of your clothes, except your hat, keep that on, and wait for me, 'cause I'm coming over."
"Oh my! What do you plan to do when you get here, Ray?"
"You're going to have to wait and see. "
Ray hung up, and Turnbull hastily gathered the gingerbread men and was taking them to his bedroom when the phone rang again. Quickly, he picked it up.
"Yes?" he asked breathlessly.
"Um, Turnbull, are you at all, even the slightest, tiniest bit, attracted to Ray Vecchio?"
"No. Not at all. In fact, I never quite understood what Fraser saw in him."
"Right. That's good. And Turnbull?"
"Yes, Ray?"
"Don't forget the hat!"
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