Souvenir var. 1
By Courser
Rating: R (to be on the safe side)
Pairing(s): Actually, none at all this time
Spoilers:  Chicago Holiday
Warnings:  While there are no pairings in this story, the subject matter
is of an adult nature. Disclaimers:  They aren't mine, no copyright infringement
is intended, so don't sue me. Summary:  Someone slips something into
Fraser's pocket during his short time at the leather club. 

Detective Ray Vecchio had finally resolved Excedrin Headache #153 at
1:30 AM.  His annoying, new Canadian friend seemed to be making a second
career out of trying his patience.  Granted, things always seemed to
work out for the best, but the route was often convoluted and frequently
compromised his sanity.   Fraser might be the most annoying man on the
planet, but he was the closest thing Vecchio had to a best friend since
high school.  The man's undying devotion to truth, justice and the Canadian
way brought out the big brother in him and Ray's career had taken a decided
upturn since Fraser had begun helping him with his cases. 

But tonight absolutely took the cake.  Of all the possible places in
the entire city of Chicago, Fraser had been picked up during a raid on
a leather club.  And not just any leather club, oh no, it had to be the
seediest, kinkiest club in town, in the company of the 16 year old daughter
of a diplomat, no less.   The scandal potential was enormous, but when
the enraged father arrived to pick up his little darling, Fraser didn't
utter a word in his own defense.   He didn't say a word about how he'd
had to chase the little brat all over the city.  The guy just took his
lumps and kept his mouth shut.  

Vecchio sat in blessed silence for a few more moments before taking Fraser
back to his post at the hotel.   Mr.Diplomat had taken Miss Pain-In-The-Ass
back in a cab, leaving Fraser to handle the paperwork.  Without even
looking, Ray knew that the Mountie placed all the blame on himself, citing
all his imagined deficiencies.  Welsh had agreed to let Ray 'preview'
the report and make appropriate changes based on his 'direct observations'.
Ray's version maintained that the kid had been dropped off at the club
by a sadistic cabby and that Fraser had gone in to rescue her.  Close
enough for government work.  What he would have given for a look on the
straight-arrow Mountie's face when confronted with all that flesh and
sex though.  Ah, well, it was probably lost him anyway. 

Fraser finished his report and took it into Welsh's office, made his
apologies yet again and turned to leave.  Welsh passed a look to Vecchio,
rubbing the side of his nose with a finger.  

"So Fraser, had enough excitement for one night?"  Ray asked as he gave
his boss a short nod of acknowledgement. 

"Yes, I believe so.  I just hope Christina wasn't traumatized by the
events."  He answered as they made their way out of the station. 

"Oh, I don't think you hafta worry too much about that.  I hope it scared
the crap outta her." 

Fraser stopped with his hand on the Riv's door handle, "Now Ray, she's
only 16 years old." 

"Yeah, 16 goin' on 30.  Admit it, she knew more about what was goin'
on in that club than you did."  Ray started the car and let it warm up
a bit before putting it in gear. 

"Well, I have to admit a certain . . . confusion, at first, but it soon
came clear to me," he shifted around in his seat and patted at the red
jacket. 

"Right.  Just when did it 'come clear' to you, Fraser?  Huh?" Ray glanced
over at the man squirming around in his seat digging around in his pockets,
"What's wrong?  Got ants in your pants?" 

"No, there's something in my pocket.  I don't recall..." Fraser finally
displayed his find, a narrow leather strap, ends stuck through a metal
bead forming a small circle.  

Ray's eyes nearly bugged out of his head and the Exedrin headache returned
with a vengeance.  

"Where did you get THAT?" he blurted as he fought to keep the Riv on
the road. 

Fraser turned the object around in his hands, held it up to the light,
sniffed at it.  

"Someone at the club must have slipped it in my pocket."

"Eewwwww!  Do you know what that IS?  Where it's BEEN? Uuuugggh!"  Ray
rolled down the electric window on Fraser's side. 

"Why yes, it's a, a, a, marital aid, Ray," looking at the open window,
then at Ray, "when properly applied, it restricts the flow of blood out
of the penis, prolonging...." 

"Ack!  Throw it out!  Throw it out!  Fraser, that thing's got NOTHIN'
to do with marriage." Ray's delicate sensibilities were screaming at
him to get the vile thing as far away from him as possible. 

"Ray, don't be silly, that would be littering.  And 'marital aid' is
a euphemism for..." 

"Cock ring, Fraser, cock ring!  It's a USED cock ring!  Probably got
disease all over it!" his brain just beginning to process that Fraser
knew what it was and what it was used for. 

Fraser licked his finger and touched it to the strap, "I don't think
so.  There's no lubricant residue on the leather." 

"Uuuuug!  Do NOT do that!  You don't know where it's been!  Don't tell
me you're thinkin' about keeping it!"  

"Well, it's a unique souvenir," Fraser continued to fondle the leather
speculatively with one hand, rolling up the window with the other. 

"SOUVENIR?  Fraser, matchbooks are souvenirs.  Ticket stubs are souvenirs.
A cock ring someone slipped into your pocket is NOT a souvenir.  It's
a, a, a...well, it's digusting!  And, while we're on the subject, where
did you learn about cock rings, huh?" 

"Oh, well, uh, 'cock rings' to use your vernacular, were covered in the
illegal drug courses at the academy." 

Ray could see the Mountie's cheeks coloring in the passing streetlights
as he continued to fondle the strap, changing its diameter by pulling
the ends threaded through the bead. 

"No kiddin'.  But I still think it's disgusting.  Please don't tell me
your hangin' on to it." 

Fraser slipped the novelty back into his pocket.  "Well, Ray, I try to
always remember the five Ps; Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance."