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Show a Little Lace
for Mickeymvt
Author's Notes: So, so, so much love and thanks to my beta, r_vecchio *hearts*
He laughed when he read the file about Ms Fraser. Crossdressing Mounties? Too funny for words. When Ray read Vecchio's own private notebook, he laughed a different kind of laugh. There was definitely some rose tinted glasses there. Of course, when he actually met Fraser, he understood entirely.
And yet, as he sat outside the Consulate and watched "Ms" Fraser carefully descend the steps, he couldn't see it. It wasn't that Fraser's female counterpart was unattractive; it was just that he/she had a bit of a Xena Warrior princess cross public school ma'am thing going on and, well, Fraser made a much more attractive guy.
"You're seriously going like that?" Ray turned the ignition key, already knowing what Fraser's answer would be.
"At least I made the effort."
Today was going to be hell without starting it off with Fraser in a huff, but it had to be said. "I'm not wearing a skirt for no undercover job, ever. If they don't like it, they can find some other fool that's got a freak-Mountie partner with an affinity for pantyhose to do it instead."
Fraser raised a finger to argue back. Ray caught a glimpse of bright red nail varnish, which neither suited Fraser's complexion nor went with the rest of the outfit. Oh, god. Frannie must have been round earlier; Fraser at least had a grasp of co-ordinating, even if he couldn't dress appropriately for the destination. And now Ray was thinking about Fraser's complexion. The worst part was that the day was guaranteed to go downhill from here.
"All I'm saying," Ray forced himself to plough on before Fraser could find his voice, "is that we're going to be working in a lingerie shop, and you look like the covergirl for 1950's Housewife Weekly. You need to..." Ray pulled the corners of his mouth back in a grimace and ground it out. "You need to sexy it up a bit."
"Your remarks are duly noted."
Ray could have just bashed his head against the steering wheel. Today really was going to be hell on toast.
***
Bright, cheerful, singsong voice; "Can I help you?" A smile to match, all teeth pearly white, no coffee, red wine or nicotine stains. How did she manage to be so perky at 9am without chemical help? Perhaps she bleached her teeth every night.
"Yeah," Ray attempted a smile in return. "We're the new boys- guys..." Fraser shot him a displeased headmistress glare, and Ray attempted to amend himself a third time. "We're the new temps."
"Great! I'll fetch Lucy!" Ray could tell from the way Miss Chirpy's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, even though her voice sounded bright and clued in, that she had no idea there would be new staff starting today. Watching the girl scurry away, he thought that was just perfect. People weren't supposed to know, only the boss, a Mrs Jamieson. He and Fraser were to work undercover in the store, the only link between five missing women and see if they could find any information that could give them some leads. They'd held back some of the details from the papers, namely that the kidnapper was sending ransom notes with underwear from this particular store attached.
It turned out that Lucy was Mrs Jamieson. Ray wasn't sure who received the more horrified look as she approached; he or Fraser.
"You're the best that they could send?" She leant in and asked sharply under her breath.
Ray answered her with a shrug while Fraser launched into a rousing speech that involved an Inuit girl, a musk ox and a wolf with a sore paw. Ray wasn't sure what it had to do with the fact that Mrs Jamieson was obviously concerned that the best that Chicago PD could do was send a rough looking guy and a cross dressing Mountie to sell lingerie in her store.
Lucy evidently decided that the man in a dress was the bigger of her two worries.
Next, came introductions to the other members of staff. All female, Ray noted. All staring at him and Fraser and looking a little like they'd been assaulted with soggy halibut. Everybody went by their first names on the shop floor, for that friendly sexy underwear shopping experience. That was no problem for Ray, however, Miss Fraser seemed to temporarily forget that she had a first name.
There was a drawn out moment of silence in which the thumbnail went up to scratch at Fraser's eyebrow and Ray realised for the first time that they had been plucked; not excessively shaped, but just thinned a little so that they still looked natural but less manly. The stray thought crossed Ray's mind: Had Francesca done that as well? Had she found the perfect excuse to lean in close to Fraser; face inches away from his, hand resting on his shoulder, or his chest, carefully rising and brushing his jaw to tip his chin and angle his face into the light?
He was trying to shake that thought away when Fraser tentatively said "Francesca." And it took Ray several moments to realise that he was answering the question of what his name was, not reading Ray's thoughts.
Great. Apparently, that was the only female that Fraser could think of. That was the only woman on his mind. Ray knew what the stabbing, twisting feeling in his gut was, but he refused to dignify it with a name.
As the other members of staff broke away to begin preparing to open up the shop, Ray leaned over to Fraser and hissed, "Francesca? That's the first name you could think of?"
Fraser gave a haughty sniff to remind Ray that he was still in a pissy mood. "I thought that I would have a better chance of remembering to answer to a different name if it was both familiar and began with a `Fra-' sound."
Ray narrowed his eyes at Fraser, itching to interrogate him further, but then Miss Chirptastic came to take him under her fluffy wing.
***
It turned out that the criminally cheery girl's name was Michelle and it was her duty to show Ray the ins and outs of women's underwear. To be quite honest, he could do this with his eyes shut. He'd shopped for Stella; all the pretty lace that did nothing for her but made her look hot -hotter- before it came off again anyway. He'd shopped with Stella, been forced to, and knew far more about under wire and sports bra's and the importance of nice comfortable straps and support than any guy really should know. And panties. Well. It was common sense; if it looked sexy it was probably uncomfortable. Hell, no "probably" about it; he'd tried on the cheese wire things once or twice, for fun...
Mostly, Ray zoned out and watched across the shop floor as Fraser's expression grew increasingly mortified while pink lacy numbers and tacky leopard prints were waved in front of his face by the store manager.
"This is the catalogue register....... Ray. Hey, Ray!"
Ray snapped out of his contemplation of Fraser trying to shakily handle a Wonderbra, and looked first at Michelle, then that the booklet on the desktop that she was leafing through. They were standing at the till point and she'd been trying to show him how to scan items, the last he'd been paying attention. He remembered there had been clear instruction not to play Star Wars with the beam of red light that the scanner gave off.
"How did you get this job?" Michelle asked pleasantly enough.
"Answered a want-ad in the paper." Ray shrugged.
"Hmmm." Michelle's eyes flicked up and down as she gave him the once over. "We don't get many men working here."
Ray knew exactly what she was thinking. "It'd be discrimination if I didn't get the job just because I'm a guy."
"Yes," she agreed, before turning back to the booklet on the desk. "Anyway. This is the catalogue register. Every time you finish a transaction, you have to ask if the customer would like to sign up to receive our catalogue through the post. Tell them that they get money off coupons inside and all sorts of exclusive offers. If they say yes, get them to write their name and address in here. As its Christmas, we're sending out a free gift of `Ms Claus' garters and stockings with the winter catalogue." She reached under the counter and pulled out a stretchy ring of red lace and white fluff, and a pair of red fishnet stockings, and laughed. "A lot of husbands and boyfriends are keen to sign their partners up when they see these!"
Ray snorted to himself. Yeah, he could see how thoughtful husbands and boyfriends could suddenly be talked into giving over their partners addresses with one flash of them.
***
Ray was increasingly reminded why he'd gone in for police work as the day wore by. He'd never been a patient person; retail would have killed him with boredom years ago. He'd only been working the till for a couple of hours and already he just wanted to gouge out his eyes with a coat hanger, just for something interesting to do. How could people do this, day in, day out?
"Is Francesca okay?"
Ray glanced up from his contemplation of the winter catalogue. He'd been mindlessly leafing though it, with the vague notion to familiarise himself with some of the store's ranges, and not at all because he found the models wearing them "talented". No, really. Scanning the room, he searched for his fake sister, but could find her nowhere.
Finally, he followed Michelle's gaze and realised that she was looking at Fraser. Fraser was lurking around the nightwear section, as far away from the teddies as he could get, keeping within the relative safety of the warm winter pyjamas with the sleepy bunny pictures all over them. Even there, he looked terribly out of place.
"Yeah," Ray answered. "It's okay. H- She's Canadian."
"Ah." Michelle nodded.
As they continued to watch, a short middle-aged man approached Fraser and said something to him. Fraser looked momentarily terrified, before the professional mask dropped into place. Shame the mask wasn't very snugly fitting, but Ray suspected that as long as he could tell himself that he was being useful, Fraser could play the role of lingerie store assistant. Only slightly haltingly, Fraser led the customer to the housecoat section. Ray caught himself smiling at how Fraser could rationalise doing even the most uncomfortable things in the name of duty.
"Has she been in the country for long?"
"A couple of years." Ray shrugged, eyes glued on the short man as he fingered a couple of satin gowns.
"It's taking a while for her to adapt to living in the States, then?"
The man said something, obviously purposely too softly for Fraser to catch. Ray felt a horrible sickly twist in his stomach as Fraser leaned in closer for him to repeat himself.
"Don't think she'll ever adapt entirely," Ray said distractedly as Fraser led the creep to another section of the store, this time to look at the French knickers. "Doesn't really help that she lives at the Canadian Consulate. Will never get out of those bad Canadian habits there. Opening doors for people. Remembering to say please and thank you. Being nice to weirdo underwear freaks...." Out of the corner of his eye, Ray could see Michelle staring at him, so he hastily explained. "Apartment burnt down, she has friends at the Consulate who are doing her a favor. You think she's a little strange, you should meet Turnbull..." And he so did not need the image of Turnbull in drag that just popped uninvited into his mind. "Uh. What is that guy doing? He gives me the creeps."
"Oh, that's Ned."
"Ned?"
Michelle shrugged. "He looks like a Ned, don't you think? It's what we call him. He's a regular, a little creepy, we don't think he has a girlfriend or anything, but he's harmless. He comes in most days for a bit, sometimes he buys something. At Christmas he brings us chocolate. Oh! Christmas! We need to get your name in the Secret Santa hat!"
Ray shrugged noncommittally as he watched the pervy guy say something to Fraser that caused a blush to spread over his nose and cheeks like some kind of beacon. All the same, Fraser smiled politely, perhaps even encouragingly, back. Ray's hands resting in fists in the countertop clenched so that his fingernails dug into the palms of his hands.
"I supposed we should put Francesca in too." Michelle sounded less enthused with this prospect and Ray forced himself to tear his attention away from Fraser.
"She's not fitting in so well with the girls, huh?"
That had been the point of reviving Ms Fraser, as far as Fraser's argument had gone anyway: To be accepted as one of the girls and to be able to question them about potentially suspicious customers and glean any other useful information without scaring them or putting them in a position where their behaviour could tip off the guy who's taken the women.
Ray knew all too well how women liked to gossip; it should have been easy for Ms Fraser to join in, but it seemed that he was getting more information than Fraser, just chatting with Michelle: This Ned guy was definitely one to watch. He'd make sure that the Duck Boys were tailing him by tomorrow.
Perhaps Fraser should have just come as his normal, attractive, masculine self. The shop girls would have been flocking around him and ready to tell him anything he asked. Except, perhaps, their real ages and marital status.
"She doesn't seem like the type to be selling lingerie." Michelle gestured with a wave of her hand. "I mean, she obviously knows her stuff, but she seems so prim and proper. She's hardly approachable."
"Hmmm..." Ray looked from Fraser; all long woollen skirt and crisply ironed blouse buttoned up to the collar, to Michelle; all short skirt and strappy top with just a flash of lacy bra peaking over when she moved. "Would it help if she dressed a little more like the rest of the girls?"
Michelle crossed her arms over her chest. "Maybe."
"Do we get staff discount?" Ray grinned.
***
So, ok, Ray would be the first to admit that perhaps Ms Fraser didn't need the bra and pantie set, and that maybe the basque was overkill, but he swore that if Fraser was going to insist on carrying on with the cross dressing, (not that he had a choice now that they'd been there for a day already), he should at least do it properly.
They were the items that Ray and Michelle had picked out for "her", and Ray planned to pretend to be offended if Fraser didn't at least try them on. The thought that Fraser would put on something that made him cycle through every shade of red known to man, just so he didn't upset the person who bought it amused Ray in ways that would probably see him condemned to hell.
The silk stockings and suspenders were at least a vague necessity, as Frannie had lent Fraser a skirt that Ray wasn't sure was not actually a very thick belt. Oh, god, when exactly had he become his father? He'd never minded much Stella choosing to go out in skimpy skirts when they were young. Why should he care what Fraser wore in public and how much leg he showed people? And, how did he end up in a place where this was an actual issue?
It was all far more than he really wanted to put his mind to at the moment, so he'd just shoved the shopping bag into Fraser's hands, along with the clothes that he'd borrowed from Frannie, and bundled Fraser into his bedroom to change while he waited in the lounge with Dief. Frannie had wanted to come over and help Fraser get dressed, but Ray had vetoed that idea before Fraser even had the chance to start stumbling over his words and tying himself in knots trying to politely turn her offer down. Which would be, of course, what would have happened. No way Fraser would have said yes. No way Frannie was going to get to play dress up with her own life-size Mountie doll. No way.
Settling down on the couch, Ray flicked on the TV and began to channel hop while he turned over in his head what he'd learnt that day. This included how to operate a till, that mint lip balm was the fastest selling `add on' when a woman was buying nightwear, and that he was expected to get a Secret Santa gift for some woman called Janine. None of this helped the case much and it made him antsy, knowing that night had fallen over the city and five women were going to spend another cold night out there somewhere.
The sound of Fraser moving around in his bedroom wasn't helping keep his thoughts in any kind of order, either. Knowing that he was probably trying to fasten the bra clasp, fingers fumbling at the unfamiliar task. Or perhaps it was getting more familiar to him by now, Ray chuckled. Less familiar to him would be rolling the silky stockings inch by inch up the length of his legs- huh
"Hey! Frase?"
"Yes, Ray?"
"Have you shaved your legs today?"
"This morning, in fact. In case my skirt rode up. Hairy legs would have been a give away, Ray."
Huh - inch by inch up the length of his shaved legs, smoothing his hand over the muscled curve of his calf, across the hollow of the back of his knee, around his tense thigh, before clipping the suspender belt fastening to the lacy stocking tops. He'd have to stand to step into the mini skirt, pulling it up to just barely conceal the bared flesh of his thighs and the panties; small, pink with an over layer of black lace. Ray had chosen them, they were sexy but classy. He wondered if Fraser liked them...
... Which wasn't doing him or the case any good. Ray turned the volume up on the TV and tried to keep his mind on the case.
This Ned; he needed to find out more about him. His real name would be a start. Ray wondered if the guy had put his name and address in the catalogue register. Then he shuddered at the thought of what he might do with the Sexy Ms Claus set. They needed to find out if there were any other regulars who could have access to customer addresses somehow. Perhaps the kidnapper followed the women home from the store? If he questioned Michelle carefully she might be able to come up with some memories of times and dates that Ned had been in, see if they tied up with when the women had gone missing.
"Ray?"
Ray's attention switched from the flickering images on the TV to the figure standing in his bedroom doorway. He blinked and groped for his glasses, because he could swear blind that Ms Fraser was suddenly hot. After putting his glasses on, it turned out that she was. Or, more that Fraser was hot, which wasn't news, in women's clothes, which was.
Fraser hadn't bothered to put the long haired wig back on, but was standing there in the slightly smudged make up and clip on earrings. He looked a little exasperated.
"Well, Ray?"
Ray shook himself mentally and glared at Fraser's toes to focus himself. The toes wiggled in the confines of the stockings and Ray wondered whether Fraser was doing it on purpose. Carefully, slowly, determined to keep his mind clear, Ray lifted his gaze up the sheer dark shimmer covering Fraser's legs, to the hem of his skirt, sitting obscenely high on his thigh. Ray shifted in his seat, and then forced his eyes to quickly skim over the rest of the skirt. He knows what a skirt looks like. Small. Denim. Hugging Fraser's thighs and flaring over his butt...
And then up and over the loosely hanging vest top, which was padded. God. It was padded. Of course it was! The school mistress outfit had padding; Fraser probably even made sure both outfits had the same cup size, for the sake of consistency.
Ray was up and out of his seat before he even thought about it. He crossed the room in a couple of quick steps. He had to see.
"Are you wearing the bra?"
Before Fraser even had the chance to reply, Ray had grabbed the collar of the vest top and was pulling it out to peer down it, at pink with black lace, resting against shadowed skin. A slow grin spread over Ray's face. He let the top spring back, but didn't step back to give Fraser any more space.
"It looks great. All of it. You'll fit in much better like this. Only," he fished down the inside of the top and gave the bra a tug, "show a little lace peaking over the top. That should do it."
He stood back with his hands on his hips. Fraser stammered thanks for Ray's input and help and retreated back into the bedroom to put on some more normal clothes. Settling back in front of the TV, Ray felt a little less on edge, more finely tuned. If he had an interesting image to take to bed with him after Fraser had gone, he couldn't help it, and now that was out of the way he and Fraser could spend a couple of hours discussing the case and sharing information.
When the sofa dipped next to him, Ray switched off the TV and turned to talk to Fraser. There were still dark smudges of eye shadow in the hollows of Fraser's eyes, and as he moved his head, tiny pieces of glitter caught the light over his eyelids.
"Uh. Fraser, you might wanna...." Ray gestured in a swirly hand wave at his own face. "... before you leave tonight, you know?"
He didn't have to take it off right now, though...
***
It didn't really matter what clothes Fraser wore, he just wasn't very good at playing a role. Ray was good at it; he didn't even have to wear a costume. He could wear the skin. Metaphorically speaking, of course, because otherwise - ugh!
Be Vecchio.
Be Vecchio being a shop assistant in a lingerie store.
Be whoever he'd have to be next when the real Vecchio came back and took back the life that belonged to him.
Ray would have to slip back out of the skin, leave behind the mindset that he'd formed around him like that metaphorical costume. Stop thinking that Fraser was the most important person in the world. Because that was just part of the role, just part of being Vecchio. Right?
But then, Fraser was so much better at just being himself.
Not that it was much help right now. It made an amusing picture watching him dressed in skimpy clothes, putting bras onto hangers as if they might explode in his face any minute. Until Ned came in, at least. Then Ray stopped smiling and started to frown as the creep instantly honed in on Fraser, or more precisely, Fraser's legs. Fraser was bending down to put stock out on the lowest rail, which made his skirt ride up the back of his thighs. Ray scowled as he caught Ned staring at the glimpse of stocking top.
Okay, so Ray had been looking too, but he was allowed, wasn't he? And at least he could manage to tear his eyes away and wouldn't be slipping up in his own drool anytime soon.
After that, Ray's mind was only half on his customer's. He shoved a lady's silk pyjamas into a bag, barely managing to actually get it into the bag at all while he fixed his attention on Ned and Fraser. He barely even registered Michelle coming over to refold and repack the bag, complete with apologies and complimentary lip balm.
Fraser was only doing his job, or so he told himself in mantra like repetition; being friendly and talking to the guy, trying to coax more information out of him.
Michelle gave him a lecture on customer service that made Ray squirm. When Fraser started a strange girly chuckle Ray had to look up again, ignoring Michelle's sigh of frustration, just to see what he was laughing at. That creep, Ned, had his hand on Fraser's arm, fingers loosely circling his wrist in a way that made Ray shudder. It took all his willpower not to vault over the counter and charge him.
"Ray. Pay attention."
Ray might have shot Michelle a glare that wasn't for her at all.
Finally, after a length of time that made Ray itch to be in motion, not stuck behind a counter playing Stake-out the Creep Chatting up the Mountie in Drag, Ned actually picked out a floaty camisole top that Fraser had appeared to have recommended and headed for the till. Instantly, Ray switched on the undercover skills that he was so proud of having and slipped into the role of ambivalent shop assistant.
"Got everything you want?" he leaned his hip against his side of the counter and tried to look as if he didn't really care.
Ned nodded. As Ray rang the clothing through the till, he watched from the corner of his eye as Ned dropped his gaze and started to scan over the open catalogue register on the counter. Suddenly it all fell into place with a ring, although the ring might have been the sound of the cash register opening...
He was getting the names and addresses of guy's girlfriends and wives from the catalogue register when he paid for items. Then he could find out where the women lived and watch them until they were alone. Taking the underwear their other halves had bought them and posting it back to them was some twisted game, or perhaps a cry for attention. Not that Ray cared what was going on in the guy's mind; all the head shrinking stuff was someone else's job. All that mattered was that he had the creep now.
It was a risk, giving him a clear view of some poor innocent woman's name and address, but he needed more details.
"Would you like to sign up to receive our catalogue?" Ray splayed his palm wide over the pages of the book and twisted it so it was the right way up for Ned. He didn't take his hand away, though, instead leaning heavily against it. "You get a free gift with Christmas catalogue." He began to grope beneath the counter for the stockings and garter with his free hand.
"No thanks."
Ray's head jerked up. "Huh?"
"I'm already registered." Ned smiled a smile that seemed to ooze. Then he took his purchase and left while Ray stared after him, bewildered.
The shock quickly began to melt away, replaced by the familiar feeling of frustration and need to punch someone or something to work out some anger. Fraser, on the other hand, seemed quite pleased with himself as he wandered over to join Ray behind the till point.
"Damnit, Frase. I know how he's doing it. We need someone to follow him now! I couldn't get his address!" Angrily, Ray flung the catalogue register across the counter so that the open pages fluttered as it spun over the edge.
With a look that Ray didn't even want to think resembled that of a suffering housewife, Fraser walked back around to pick the book up again. "His name is James Foster," he said as he pushed the book back over the counter to Ray.
It took a beat, then Ray was flicking through the pages of the register until he found the name, and an address! He grinned at Fraser triumphantly.
"You watch the till. I'll go call the station, get someone on him, and see if they can get enough to bring him in." Walking around the counter, he patted Fraser on the back.
"Excuse me please."
They both spun around at the soft meek voice. Fraser smiled kindly at the woman that had approached them, Ray was still grinning anyway.
"I need to be measured for a bra, please." She addressed Ray directly, barely even glancing at Fraser. Ray's grin melted into something softer, he tilted his head to the side, drew breath to reply-
"I'm afraid that we are new trainees, ma'am." Fraser cut in. "We haven't been trained in fitting yet." With a gentle hand on the lady's arm, he led her to one of the other shop assistants. When he rejoined Ray, he waited until she was out of earshot before turning on the detective, incredulous. "She wanted you to measure her!"
Ray nodded and tried to look smug.
"Why? You're obviously a man! She didn't seem the type to..."
"She thinks I'm gay." Ray cut in over Fraser this time, instantly shutting him up. "What woman's lingerie shop would employ a straight guy?" He shrugged. "Gotta call to make."
As he walked away, he could feel Fraser's stare burning into his back. It was a toss up between making him want to squirm and being perversely satisfying.
***
After dropping Fraser off at the Consulate, Ray drove home with an overwhelming feeling of a job well done. He was just waiting on the call now, the one from the Duck boys saying that they'd took him in, questioned him, searched his place, and now the women were found and free to go home again. He was so certain that was how it was going to play out.
He'd just settled down with a drink when the call came, but it didn't play out like the track playing in his head. James Foster had alibis for every night that the women had gone missing. They'd searched his apartment and found nothing suspicious, nothing that would suggest that he made a hobby of kidnapping women. Only strange thing about him was that his walls were lined with framed women's underwear.
Ray swore, extensively, and threw his phone across the room. It bounced off the easy chair opposite, hit the floor with a crack that Ray knew he'd regret when he'd had time to calm down a bit, and slid beneath the coffee table. Suddenly, kicking back with a beer didn't seem so appealing. Now, the only thing he could think about doing was jumping into his car and driving back to the Consulate to talk to Fraser some more; perhaps if they pooled their knowledge tonight, they might have some kind of clue by morning. It had to be there, they just had to find it.
Rushing back out the door, he only just remembered to pick up his car keys, never mind thinking to stop and scrabble beneath the furniture to get his cell back.
He could barely keep his mind on the road as he drove. Who could it be?
There was a definite connection with the underwear all being from the same store. It couldn't be a co-incidence. But Ned, James, whoever, the creep, was the only regular the girls could come up with when Ray had talked to them. They didn't seem to remember seeing anyone else hanging around who could have even followed the victim's partners home.
No, it had to be someone who went up to the counter regularly, someone who was able to read the catalogue register to get the names and addresses from it....
Ray's eyes widened. It felt like something had just steamrollered through his chest. No? Yes. That was it. They'd been looking at it all from the wrong angle!
Putting his foot down, he sped to the Consulate. Now he really did need to pool his thoughts and observations with Fraser.
In his hurry, it didn't register that the Consulate door was still unlocked, even though the building was officially closed to the public hours ago. He breezed through the entrance hallway, half jogging the last few steps to Fraser's office.
Then he noticed the voice. It was familiar, he could clearly hear it in his head telling him not to play with the till scanner in case he gave someone an epileptic fit.
"It's always the same. They come in looking for something for their girlfriends. They never even see me. The bitches don't deserve them."
Ray drew close to the door, which was standing ajar, and carefully peeked through the gap. Fraser was still dressed as a woman. He had a strangely sympathetic expression on his face. He tensed, though as Michelle waved her gun in his direction and stamped her foot.
"No one ever buys me nice things! Ungrateful bitches!"
Fraser opened his mouth to speak, but she suddenly approached him, gun now steady and pointing intently at his chest.
"And he's supposed to be gay! But I saw him drooling over you! He couldn't keep his eyes off you. He didn't even see me when I was standing right in front of him!"
It seemed that it was Ray's night to feel winded. She was talking about him. Was it that obvious? Yeah, maybe he did get a little preoccupied with watching Fraser waltzing around in a skirt; it was kinda distracting!
It was true, though, he hadn't seen her, hadn't considered that one of the shop assistants could be a suspect. Michelle was just someone he had to work with for a few days. He just hadn't thought about her at all, and that was a serious slip on his behalf.
There was no time for guilt now, though. Michelle was getting ready to move Fraser to wherever she was taking the victims. In another couple of seconds she would be facing the doorway and would see him. Without stopping to think about it, Ray reached for his gun and barrelled through the doorway. The next few seconds were a blur, but Ray distinctly caught the look of surprise that flashed over Fraser's face, followed quickly by understanding as he ducked beneath the extended gun and shouldered forwards.
Michelle was only an average sized woman. She probably didn't need two large men to tackle her to the floor, to be fair, but Ray always felt that a gun in a person's hand at least made them feel bigger and more powerful, and that was just as dangerous as if they were 7 foot tall brickhouses. Fortunately, she lost her grip on the gun the second Fraser's shoulder hit her midsection. After that, she seemed much smaller.
***
The ride to the station was mostly filled with the sound of her weeping, and Fraser sitting in the back handing her tissues. Ray was fuming and itching to find the missing women and get them back home where they belonged, but Fraser really did seem to have some kind of understanding for her. It turned out to be more effective to let him question her while Ray stood in the corner of the interrogation room, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the both of them.
Maybe it was Ms Fraser that she responded to, maybe she still hadn't figured it out, even though Fraser's wig was now offset following the arrest, and she felt better talking to a woman. Maybe it was just Fraser's softer manner that she needed. Later, Fraser suggested that perhaps she'd gotten herself in too deep and just wanted it all to end. Ray snorted at that.
The women were locked in a room in an old factory building on the outskirts of the city. He and Fraser watched them as they shivered beneath thermal blankets and wrapped their hands around mugs of hot drinks. None of them were hurt, only a little shaken up. Emotional reunions between them and their partners gave Ray a warm fuzzy feeling inside. As they were allowed to go home to rest a few paused to exchange numbers; apparently some kind of camaraderie had been formed. Somehow, that made Ray feel better, that at least something good could have came out of their ordeal.
***
It was early morning by the time Ray pulled up back in front of the Consulate to drop Fraser off. There was still paperwork and interviews to complete, but the women were home safe and sound, and Michelle was in custody. Everything else could wait until people had gotten some sleep.
In the amber glow of the streetlight, Fraser looked weary. Shadows fell harshly over his face while he sat deep in thought. The lopsided wig was still on his head, Ray figured that by this point Fraser was probably so used to wearing it he'd forgotten he even had it on.
"Michelle said that you were supposed to be gay." Fraser's voice was sudden in the quiet of the night, its heaviness made Ray start, his heart inexplicably hammering in his chest for a moment.
"Yeah, well, like I said; who would employ a straight guy in a women's underwear store?"
"But you're not."
Fraser gave him an intense gaze and all Ray could do was stubbornly return it. He didn't want to answer Fraser's statement, he was pretty sure that he couldn't win if he did. The moment stretched out and Ray found he was hypersensitive to every sound around him; the creak of the seats, the clatter of some animal knocking over empty bottles in an alley nearby, the whoosh of the occasional car going past.
Finally, the spell was broken by Fraser taking in a sharp breath. "She said that you couldn't keep your eyes off me."
He leant forwards slightly, eyes flickering as he frantically searched Ray's face for some kind of clue. Ray couldn't help himself as he reached up hesitantly and wrapped his fingers around a lock of the wig's hair. Pulling, the wig slipped from his head and that was better; that was Fraser sitting in front of him now, with makeup smeared eye sockets looking dark and sultry, and darkened lips parted in anticipation.
It barely felt like he moved forwards, but he must have done, because suddenly he was kissing Fraser, and Fraser was kissing back. Soft, tentative presses of their mouths together, and it felt so good to be this close. Delicious heat burned the back of his neck as Fraser reached out and pulled him closer, his thumb rubbing through the short spikes of hairline along the back of his neck.
Pressing closer, Ray parted his mouth and caught Fraser's lip between his, sucked gently. The softest, most abandoned sound came from somewhere deep in Fraser's throat, seeming to vibrate through Ray and go straight to his dick. Suddenly he was climbing out of his seat, trying to get into Fraser's lap as he pressed harder, desperate now that he knew that he could to make up for lost time. It was too tight a space, already his mind was half working out that he needed to get the seat pushed back as Fraser allowed Ray to lick into his mouth, as he allowed Ray's hand to slip beneath the skirt.
Ray paused. The expression on Fraser's face was one of confusion and need as he pulled back.
"Inside." Ray managed to gasp and nod out the passenger window to the Consulate building. "Ask me inside." They couldn't be caught out here, not like this. Not sprawled out in a car parked in clear public view, Ray's hand halfway up the skirt of a Mountie, a male Mountie. Understanding started to dawn on said Mountie's face. "For coffee." Ray added with a grin that might have been more of a leer.
If he hadn't known the reason why, he'd have been offended that Fraser moved so quickly to push him off and swing the car door open.
"Would you like to come inside?" Fraser's head tilted to the side as he smiled. "For coffee?"
Ray watched as the stocking covered legs swung out of the passenger side and Fraser stood, carefully pulling his skirt as far down his thighs as it would go. As soon as he began to shut the door, Ray was clambering to get out and join him as he climbed the steps to the building.
Waiting for Fraser to get the front door unlocked was agonising, Ray had to clench his fists tight to stop himself from snatching the keys from Fraser, even though it was obvious that it was Fraser's urgency to unlock the door that was slowing them down, rather than him purposely taking his time over it. If Ray was in a more antagonistic mood he would have quoted his mom at him - "More haste, less speed", or something like that - but he really didn't want to risk Fraser getting sidetracked with a lesson on the history of the phrase and others like it right now.
The second that they were inside the building and the door was firmly shut behind them, Ray had Fraser pushed up against the door, leaning against him, skimming his hands down his sides, mapping out the shapes of torso and hips and thighs that he'd only been able to trace with his eyes before. He had to admire the restraint Fraser had to show to be able to tell him that this was not an appropriate place to continue and that they should go to his office.
They got as far as Turnbull's desk.
A pot of pencils toppled over, scattering its contents over the desk and floor as Ray hoisted Fraser up onto the surface. He leaned over him as his hands bunched up the flimsy material of the vest top and explored beneath. Expecting to find hot flesh, it was a surprise when his fingertips encountered silky material. Looking down, Ray found himself looking at the black basque he'd bought. He really hadn't expected Fraser to wear that! Heat coiled inside his gut and Ray tugged the vest top over Fraser's head, discarding it on a stack of files, to get a better look.
Oh, man. Fraser had been walking around all day in that, the flexible boning shaping and hugging his torso, and it had been lost to outside eyes under the vest top. But Fraser, he would have felt it every time he moved... Ray groaned and palmed the material, running his hands up to the padded cups. No, he paused, he didn't want anything of Ms Fraser, he wanted this all to just be his Fraser.
Yanking the shaped foam out, he almost laughed. "You made your own boobs! Most people would just use socks."
"Socks gave me lumpy breasts." Fraser pouted.
With a grin, Ray bent back down to capture his mouth in another kiss. Helping Fraser from the desk, they fumbled towards Fraser's office. The progress was short lived, as Fraser took the initiative to press Ray against the wall next to Thatcher's office and thoroughly make out with him. Ray wondered if that was a bit of an anti-authoritive display, not aimed at him but at the Inspector, even though she would never know. Rebelling against his superior. It gave Ray a thrill that added to the quavering feeling that racked his body every time Fraser touched or kissed him, to think that Fraser had a suppressed rebellious streak.
They stumbled into Fraser's office, slamming the door against the outside world and Ray set to work unfastening the denim skirt and helping Fraser shimmy out of its confines. He took a moment to just admire the figure as Fraser straightened up in front of him. Sensible shoes with a slight heel, leading onto the smooth glossy stockings that swept up and over the defined curves of Fraser's legs, lacy tops encircling his thighs in a way that made Ray want to lick the expanse of pale skin above the dark frills. Flesh broken up by the dark lines of the suspender belt that fastened directly to the basque. And in between, the panties; the subdued pink shining out from under the black lace, drawing Ray's attention to the hard bulge straining beneath the cotton. To be fair, though, Ray's attention would have been drawn there, regardless of the underwear.
Drawing close, he backed Fraser across the room until they reached his cot. Together, they sank down onto the thin mattress. Ray leaned into Fraser, kissing and sucking across his jaw, to get him to lie down as Ray fumbled with his jeans to unfasten them. Perching on the edge of the cot, pressing his body to Fraser with the flimsy excuse that if he didn't he would fall off the bed, Ray toed off his shoes and wriggled out of his trousers and underwear.
Fraser's hands were suddenly on him, insistent and exploring. Over his own thighs, fleetingly skirting fingertips over his dick making him grunt harshly. Then the hands were running up his side and his chest, gathering the material of his t-shirt to pull over his head. There was a second when he couldn't see, and wet lips brushed over his nipple, causing him to cry out in surprise and arousal. Then the t-shirt was tugged away and he could see again; Fraser, with dark hooded eyes and kiss bruised lips, a smear of rich, dark teak at the corner of his mouth all that was left of the lipstick. Jolts shivered through Ray as Fraser's thumb flicked slowly back and forth over his nipple.
It was more than he could take. Palm flat against Fraser's chest, Ray pushed Fraser onto his back and moved to perch over the top of him. He let his hand drop, taking a winding path over the material of the basque, briefly skimming over the dip of exposed skin before he found Fraser's material covered cock and pressed his heel against it. Instantly, Fraser moaned, hips bucking up, head flinging back. Ray leant down and mouthed over the exposed collar bone as he rubbed against the material, before his fingertips sought out the edge of the panties and pulled them down, just enough to free Fraser's erection.
He sat back, ignoring Fraser's searching hands reaching to pull him back down. The hard length jutted out from the underwear, framed by the suspenders, barely lying against the black basque. Shuffling down the bed, Ray dipped his head and licked along the length before fitting his mouth over the head and swallowing down. Fraser let out a garbled desperate cry, hands instantly going to Ray's hair to grasp gently as he pulled up again, flicked his tongue over the head, and then sunk back down.
One of Ray's hands sought out his own dick, wrapped tightly around it as he concentrated on blowing Fraser, images of what he was wearing burned onto his eyelids. His other hand splayed over Fraser's thigh, feeling the muscle twitch beneath the stockings, knowing that Fraser was barely controlling himself, barely keeping his hips from thrusting up. Ray jacked himself harder, groaning at the thought of Fraser letting go of his control and fucking his mouth. Ray's other hand curled so that his nails dragged over Fraser's thigh.
Fraser shuddered, began to gasp Ray's name in a mantra as he pulled sharply on Ray's hair. Ray got the message in time and backed off. He watched Fraser come violently, crying out at the release, shooting pearly white over the dark lingerie.
Ray crawled back up Fraser's body to kiss him. Fraser kissed him back languidly, tongue flickering over Ray's lips then retreating, only to return seconds later. His hand entwined with Ray's and began to stroke with him. It was only a matter of moments before Ray buried his head in the crook of Fraser's neck and let out a muffled groan as he came.
For a while, Ray kept his head there, panting hard against Fraser's skin as he tried to get his breath back. Fraser's hands were hot where they held him, cold air brushing Ray's skin where they didn't touch. Slowly, Ray turned his head and shifted a little.
"I think this thing is dry clean only," he chuckled, trying to find a loose corner of sheet to pull over them.
"I can take it next time my uniform needs cleaning." Ray could hear the smile in Fraser's voice.
"Yeah. Mountie uniform and sexy lingerie with interesting stains. That won't look suspicious at all."
Fraser huffed, and wriggled enough to pull the blanket out from beneath him and spread it over them roughly.
"We could burn it."
"No. I don't think so." Ray snuggled in closer, finger running over the curve of the basque's boning. "I'll take it."
"I think you laddered my stockings."
A shiver ran through Ray at the thought of Fraser in laddered stockings. He'd have to check that out later. But for now, he pressed himself close to Fraser, purely to stop himself from falling off the cot, and let his eyes drift shut.
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