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Busman's Honeymoon
for akite
(With apologies to Dorothy L. Sayers for stealing her title.)
*
"So, Frannie tells me you and Fraser are taking some time off."
"Yeah. Hang on..." There was a clunk, Vecchio could hear Kowalski talking to someone - the Lieu? - and then Kowalski was back. "Two weeks' vacation. His idea, if you can believe it."
"Where are you guys going?"
"Canada, Vecchio, where did you think?"
"Oh, Jesus. Tell me you're not going after that goddamn hand again."
"What? No. Wrong time of year for that, anyway. No, we're going to, uh, Banff."
"'Banff'? Isn't that the noise Nightcrawler makes when he teleports?"
"Nah, that's spelled with an M and one F."
"Geek."
"Hey, you're the one making the X-Men references."
"So, is this place part of Benny's old stomping grounds?"
"No, it's in Alberta, south of the Territories. And before you say it, smartass, I know almost everything is south of the Territories, but this is due south, in a national park in the Rockies."
"Mountains. Forest. Nature." Kowalski could almost hear Vecchio's shudder over the phone. "No, thank you."
"Eh, it makes Fraser happy. And we aren't roughing it all the way - he made reservations at a hotel. Place called the Banff Springs."
Just then Stella walked in, so Vecchio said, "Hey, it's your ex, wanna talk to him? Kowalski, Stella wants to say hi."
As the Kowalskis exchanged hey-how-are-yous, Ray opened his computer's search engine, typed "banf springs," accepted the suggestion that he try "banff springs," and started clicking on links.
"Son of a bitch. The Mountie was holding out on me."
*
When Fraser had told him that the town of Banff was in a national park, Ray had resigned himself to a rustic cabin, and possibly communal showers. Instead ...
"You didn't tell me that it was a freakin' castle, Frase."
"Striking, isn't it? I'm told that when the hotel opened in the eighteen-eighties, woodsmen who came upon the building unexpectedly described the effect as downright hallucinatory."
Ray looked at the thickly wooded mountains capped with snow, and then back at the - god, really, really huge building. It was like the Overlook Hotel cubed, though hopefully without the creepy twin girl ghosts and the elevators full of blood. "I can relate ... Is that a golf course?"
"Yes. One of two, though I believe the second has only nine holes. And that wing houses the spa."
"The spa. You booked us into a hotel with a spa."
"Um. Yes? Ray? Is there a problem?"
"Who are you, and what have you done with Benton Fraser?" Abruptly, Ray's face brightened. "Oh, wait, wait, I get it! We're going to share a broom closet, right? Or sleep on the roof?"
"Actually, I reserved one of the executive suites."
"...Seriously, what's going on? Are you sick or...Holy shit that's it, isn't it? You've got cancer, or, or a brain cloud -"
"A brain cloud? What -"
"And you've decided to live it up while you still have time!"
Fraser held up a hand. "Ray, I assure you, I am under no imminent threat of death. I am not ill. I have not sustained a head injury, since I know that was going to be your next question. I have wanted to come to this hotel for some time, and I thought you would enjoy it, but if you would prefer other accommodations we can certainly go someplace else."
"'Go someplace else'?" Are you crazy? Fraser, it's a castle, it's great, I'm just surprised, is all. C'mon, let's check in, I wanna jump on the bed."
A few minutes later, as they walked toward the elevators, keycards in hand, Ray muttered, "Jeez, all I packed are jeans. If they've got a dress code for the dining room, I'm sunk."
"I took the liberty of packing one of your sports coats and slacks in my bag, in case you wanted to take part in the dancing in the Alhambra Ballroom ... but I thought we might have dinner in our room, tonight."
Ray grinned, slow and hot. "Turn in early, you mean?"
"Exactly."
*
"Excuse me ..."
Ray got up from his chair to see how this would play out. Three boys, presumably the ones who'd been thundering across the hallway, running from one room to another and back, for the past ten minutes were staring up at Fraser as he stood I the doorway.
"I know it's still fairly early," Fraser continued, "but people may be trying to sleep."
All of the kids shuffled their feet. "Sorry," said the tallest, who looked to be about twelve years old.
Ray chimed in with, "How about you stick to one room, 'kay? And try to keep it down to a dull roar."
"Yessir. We'll be quiet."
"Thank you kindly."
They all withdrew to their respective rooms. Ray was snickering. At Fraser's questioning look, he said, "I figured out why they were running back and forth - the pay-per-view porn channel shows a ten-second clip when you click on it. Those kids were getting the MTV edit of Betty Does Banff, or whatever." Ray waggled his eyebrows. "Maybe we should watch, make sure those kids aren't seeing something that will scar them for life..."
Fraser hesitated, and for one second Ray was convinced that he was going to track down those boys' parents and give them a lecture on the need for supervision and appropriate viewing material for pre-adolescents. Instead, thank God, Fraser leaned in and murmured, "I don't know that I'm all that interested in watching other people have sex, right now..."
*
The next morning, over breakfast...
"Uh, Fraser, when I was talking about getting wood, that's not what I had in mind."
"I would think that you might be a very good golfer with some practice, Ray. It seems to me to be largely a matter of kinesthetics." A brief pause as Fraser licked his lip. "And you certainly know how to move."
"Do that again, and ... damn, I was going to make a joke about wood and iron, but I lost it."
Half an hour later, Ray swung a three-wood in a perfect arc. The ball flew, straight as a bullet, and touched down somewhere just shy of the 200-yard sign.
"That," Ray announced to the universe, "was incredibly goddamn satisfying."
He was still buzzed when he saw a guy in a suit trying to talk one of the maids into unlocking the door of the next-door suite. "Hey," he said, cop-sense tingling, "you okay there?"
"Fine!" the guy said, a bit too loudly. "Just left my wallet and my key in my room."
"Pardon me, sir, but before Adele" - and of course Fraser, who was standing by Ray's right shoulder, had read the cleaning lady's nametag; he was probably on first-name terms with the entire staff by now - "unlocks the door, can you prove that this is your room?"
"Well, like I just said, my wallet and my keys are in there, so..."
"You're welcome to use our phone to call the front desk and ask them to send someone up."
"Oh, uh, that's okay, I'll just..." Run, though he didn't get far before Ray tackled him. Straddling the would-be thief, Ray instinctively reached for his cuffs - and then rolled his eyes when he remembered that he didn't have them because, duh, on vacation.
"I've got him," Fraser said, approaching with the sash from one of the curtains.
"Working vacation, huh."
"A regular busman's honeymoon."
"What?"
"What?" As Ray watched, Fraser replayed the last few seconds of conversation in his head and blushed. "Erm. Holiday. The expression is busman's holiday. Shall we...?"
"Let's," Ray said cheerily, and sneaked glances at Fraser as they led the perp downstairs.
Author's note: The Fairmont Banff Springs is a real resort. I've never been there, but I hope to go someday.
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