Disclaimer: I own zippola.

Author's Notes: Thanks to those who wrote to say these stories are amusing. <G> Big hugs.

Story Notes:

This story is a sequel to: Special Case

The car door slammed, and Ray yelled, neither expression nor tone of voice changing from his current bitch at Frannie, whose door was already closed, "--every time, every time you gotta wait until the last minute and then haul both our asses outta work, and Christ it's good to get out of there, and by the way you look great today, you stupid bitch!"

She nearly lost it, a hard bark of laughter bugging her eyes out and making her snort a painful-sounding snort, but she saved it, keeping the pissed-off look on her face and snapping back, gesticulating wildly, "Thanks, and the last fucking thing I need is you complimenting me when we have to keep looking like we're mad at each other until we get out of the parking lot and out of sight, you fucking moron! And by the way, just so you know, I'm glad you like the fucking outfit, asshole!"

"Yeah, well, thanks for saving me from shoving Fraser into the closet and ripping his clothes off, I was about on the verge, you know? You know? You ever think before you do these nice things for me, thanks again? Of course, you look like a fucking hors d'ouvre now, I hope you know that, I could eat you in one bite!"

"Any time, prick, just any time, all right? Okay? Son of a bitch!"

"Oh, that's it, that is the last time I--thank God," Ray sighed as they rounded the corner of the block and he poured on some juice to get them away from the station as quickly as possible, and their laughter finally broke free, and he grinned like a fool. "We gotta be careful with this shit."

Frannie was laughing so hard she couldn't answer for a minute, and he looked at her fondly as she slithered down the seat to land, boomp, on her rear in the floor of the car, one leg stuck up almost vertical, with her high-heeled sandal up above the dashboard, this being possible because her skirt was so short. He'd wonder how she could just slide into a position like that, but he had firsthand knowledge of what kind of excellent shape she was in.

He reached over a squeezed her foot affectionately as he slowed for a red light. "Really, cutie, thanks, I mean it. I just can't take it when he takes off the tunic. He's so...fucking...driving. I'm driving the car. Say, whaddaya think the Feds'd do if they knew we were foolin' around?"

She snorted an especially merry snort. "Crap their Bill Blass in unison."

Ray lost it again, cracking up along with her, nearly missing the shift and making the box grind when the light changed. "I gotta stop doing that while I'm driving--will you get outta the floor? That leg's gettin' me hard."

"You were already hard, you poor schmuck." Frannie was still laughing too much to move for a second, but finally she managed to brace her palms on the seat and haul her ass back up onto the vinyl. She then had to do the Dislocated Pantyhose Shimmy for a second, kicking both feet in rapid little kicks, while she bounced on the seat and tugged at the waistband with her finger and thumb, through her clothes. "Twisted 'em."

"Sounds like a bitch."

"Kind of is. No problem rescuing you, I had to get myself out of there, too. I think they designed that uniform--except for the tunic--especially for his body. You know, how the high beltline on the black pants makes that gorgeous curve of slim waist down into the round ass look that much better, and the suspenders outline his chest, and the white henley is the perfect showoff for his shoulders and arms, shut me up, shut me up, shut me up fast--"

Ray suddenly pulled into an alley--more like squealed into it--braking and whipping the wheel, and he reached for her and she leaped at him and they kissed frantically for long minutes.

She gave a resigned moan as they finally, gently parted, and let her forehead thunk onto his shoulder. "Thanks, caro-cutie."

"No problem; I needed that, too. Bad."

"Have you still got--good." She was checking the glove compartment, where she found a travel pack of sensitive-skin baby wipes, pulled one and resealed the bag, then gently held Ray's jaw while she wiped his face clean of makeup. "There."

"M'I all beautiful again?" he asked with a half-smile.

"No, but you're as cute as always. Beautiful, I'd have to..."

"...save that one for someone we both know and would die for, yeah. Lemme do you..." he took the wipe and cleaned up what was too mussed to repair on her face--he'd been married a long time; he knew how much mess was too much to just fix--and while she could have done that herself, since she had to reapply her makeup now anyway, he found he liked doing little just-to-be-friendly things like that for her, all the more as they continued to get more comfortable with each other.

"We're still pretty close to the station," she murmured, glancing around, over one shoulder and then past Ray to the other end of the alley.

"Yeah, true, I'll get us moving," he said, getting his head together and proceeding to get the car back in gear, as she moved back to the passenger side and flipped down the visor, which Ray had attached a vanity mirror to. Nobody'd questioned it in the slightest. In fact, Fraser had praised him for his safety-consciousness in adding the mirror to use to check his hair, rather than continually disturbing the set of his rear-view mirrors to do so--and to think of putting it on the passenger side so he wouldn't be tempted to use it while he was driving, as so many people did with today's built-in vanity mirrors.

Ray'd just shrugged and smiled, rather than mention the fact that Frannie regularly left a lot of her makeup on him in the goat and needed something to look into to reapply it. Also, the baby wipes had garnered a pleased exclamation and a thank-you from his ever-oblivious partner, when he'd opened the glove compartment to look for napkins and found wipes there; he'd assumed Ray had put them there for Fraser's own use post-lunch, so he wouldn't have to go back to work greasy-fingered--though he did mutter a comment about reusability and hoping that the towelettes were made at least partially of post-consumer recycled materials.

"Y'know, Fraser thinks those wipes are for him."

Frannie smiled, but didn't reply, as she was working on her lips at that moment.

"I just have to make sure I keep 'em stocked in there so he doesn't wonder why they're half-gone when he hasn't used any recently and stuff."

"Well, that's predictable," she said, "him thinking that, I mean. I never thought I could get so batshit over someone as predictable as he is."

"He needs someone like you. Shake him up a little."

"I think you do that better than I could ever manage."

"Hm-mm. Different, yeah. Better, no. Where you wanna go?"

"We could bring back some doughnuts for everybody, some real bakery stuff instead of the Krispy Kreme, so nobody'll be pissed at me for us both cutting out at ten in the morning supposedly to take Angela the silk blouse I borrowed from her because she called me in a fit, wanting it back."

"Is that the rest of our story? Who's Angela?"

"I don't actually know anybody named Angela. Uh, no--I know about fifty people named Angela, see?"

"None of 'em well enough to confirm, and anyway too many to check, gotcha. You're good at this, Frannie."

"Hey, my brother's a cop."

"And you guys talk about it all the time after you get done fucking."

She made a very grossed-out face at the same time as a noise that would have been a laugh, if her expression had been right for it, escaped from her mouth. "Airgh! Don't do that!"

"Sorry." He grinned.

"Nah you're not, asshole." She grinned at him and snapped her compact shut. "But it's okay. I'll get you for it later."

"Idle threats."

"Just wait'll the next time I go down on you. I'll make you beg. You'll be wishing you were nicer to me."

"Great, now I'm wishing you were going down on me. Or vice versa. Or both, oh yeah..."

"Oh, God, Ray, don't. We don't have time right now."

"I could wish."

"Me too, cutie...this way. There's a place called Biscotti Heaven that makes really lame biscotti, but the non-Italian pastry is great."

"Only Italian bakeries make Italian pastry good enough for you, though how you know, I'll never have any idea. You can't possibly eat any of it and be so tiny."

"I get one bite out of a whole pastry, whatever kind, which means I have to buy one for somebody else if I want the bite."

"I'll let you bite mine."

She didn't say anything; they just grinned evilly and affectionately at each other.

As they were heading back, Frannie holding a sumptuous-smelling box, she said "I'll start running around giving these to everybody as soon as we walk in. We'll be arguing about...my getting a car."

"Um...wouldn't I want you to get a car? Then I wouldn't have to drive you places."

"You'll be saying that I'd get myself in all kinds of trouble, that you have a hard enough time keeping a rein on me as it is, that nobody could be expected to be in charge of me--"

"--if you've got your own wheels, and it's bad enough as it is--Ma's always all over my case, am I keeping an eye on you at that awful police station with all those criminal people, how the hell am I supposed to keep her off my neck if she knows you can go anywhere you want without anybody to keep you from getting into trouble? And where you go, Frannie, trouble goes, so don't even try to--"

"--I can't believe this, I can't believe it--I ask you for rides, I'm too much trouble, I want my own car so I don't have to ask you for rides, I'm too much trouble--is there any pleasing you? Should I just throw myself off a pier? Would I be little enough trouble for you then? Or is there something more you want from me, like there isn't always something more you want from me, what the hell do you want from me? I've been doing you favors for thirty years--"

"Thirty years ain't nearly enough time to make up for the trouble you can cause me in five minutes, Frannie, and--" he broke off and grinned, and so did she. He finished "Yeah, that'll work, for people in the know and people who aren't."

Then she opened the box, pulled out an object with a mouthwatering smell, and held it up to his face.

He reflexively opened his mouth for a bite, got a good look at what she was holding, and the tires screeched once as they came to a halt at a stop sign. "FRANNIE!"

She was laughing hysterically. "You said you could eat me in one bite..."

"I guess this place does erotic pastry," he sighed, "you evil, evil little bitch."

"Just remember, I get one bite."

"You want I should leave you the clit? It's a Reese's."

She laughed louder as Ray sank his teeth into frosted cake and chewed, making yum-yum noises. "Mm. Tasty, there, cutie," he mumbled around his mouthful.

"Yeah, so you've said."

"What do we do if he hasn't got the coffee off his tunic and he's still...you know?"

"I'll flash cleavage at him, wiggle my ass. He'll run away."

"Yeah, good plan. Um, the rest--" he took another bite as they continued down the street, and she lowered the offending sweet until he needed another mouthful, "--of these things--" pause for more chewing, "--don't all look like--"

"No, you idiot, the rest are just doughnuts, jelly rolls, bear claws."

"I figured, yeah, just checking. Anyway, the first person you give one to had better be the lou."

She made a descriptive face. "Yeah. He reminds me..." she pursed her lips, then shook her head, and held up the pussycake for him to take another bite from as she considered. "I was going to say he reminds me of my father, but he's nothing like my father. And I wouldn't want him to be. He's like...I don't know. Having a father."

"Mm. Feds said..." Ray chewed, swallowed, licked his lips for frosting, and said "They said Vecchio didn't have the greatest relationship with his Dad."

"I'm surprised they knew that much about it."

"Vecc--your brother probably told them, just part of the package to prepare me with, so I'd know what to say if anyone asked."

"Oh, yeah, right." She gave him another bite and said "Anyway, I guess I wonder, sometimes...he seems...like a nice..."

"He likes you, Frannie. I think he thinks of you a little...well, that way, like a daughter, too."

"You really think so?" Her expression was distant. "He lets me talk to him about things, sometimes, like a real...a nice father might. Like...you know, my funny-shaped head..."

"Your head--" he stopped to take the bite she gave him, chewed it enough to talk around, and finished "--looks as good as the rest of you."

"Hats and stuff just don't...just don't sit right on it. No matter what, it looks like I've got a potted plant balanced on my head. It just doesn't work. I wear that awful cowboy hat sometimes when I do something with Turnbull, but that's just because he's Turnbull and wouldn't know if I looked like hell in a hat or not, and God, it hurts right through the floor to disappoint him. When I told him I didn't have a hat head, I thought he was gonna cry. I wore it all the rest of the night after that."

"I noticed you had it on after Fraser's number. I was kinda glad; he's real fond of you. Be nice to him, he'll treat you good if you can ever drag your heart from one mountie to another."

"Yeah. He's awfully sweet to me, and like I said, he really doesn't know or care that I look like an idiot in a hat. So what the hell, I'll wear the stupid-ass cowboy hat every now and then, if it makes him happy...hold it, I get a bite, remember?"

"I was gonna give you one, cutie. Wherever you wanted it."

"Obvious, Ray." She tsked, then grinned.

He pulled into his spot at the station, then quickly leaned forward and lapped up the last bit in her fingers, to a startled "Hey!" from her--then glanced around real fast, pulled her down in the seat, and passed her the bite mouth-to-mouth, with a lot of tongue action on both their parts so her makeup wouldn't get wrecked again or end up on him.

They sat up quickly as she chewed, smirking around the bite, swallowed and smacked her lips a couple of times in appreciation of the sweetness, and said "Close as we'll get today, I suppose."

"Are we pathetic or are we pathetic?"

"We're pathetic. But we're pathetic together, at least."

"I got your back, you got mine."

"Partners in pathos."

"You know it, cutie." He gave her a knuckle-chuck under the chin, grinning. "Let's get ready to wow 'em in there, shall we?"

"Ready as I'll get." She gave him a look he recognized, one that said "I'd give you a kiss but we can't right now," and he smiled a real smile at her and said "Me, too."

As the car doors slammed behind them both, they were already snapping at each other, waving their arms in exasperation and cutting each other's sentences off, and nobody who didn't think to look would have seen the little smirks that couldn't be completely drowned under the show, said smirks occurring especially because they had an unofficial contest to make the other one murder them at a later point for saying something so privately funny they had to stomp off in pretended rage so they could hide in the bathroom and laugh until the tears came, trying to keep it quiet.

Thanks, God, Ray thought. "If no Fraser, I got Frannie to save my sanity, at least. Hope I'm saving hers*."

Diefenbaker homed in on the smell both of Francesca and the box she was carrying. "Dief, down! Fraser will kill me if I give you one of--"

"Diefenbaker, you are not to paw at Francesca," came a familiar, saliva-inspiring voice, as they rounded the corner; thank God, the tunic was back on, albeit with a damp place on the side where he'd succeeded--was there ever a doubt?--in getting the coffee off before it set in. "You are perfectly capable of being friendly without getting her clothes dirty. I'm sorry, Francesca."

"It's okay, Frazh," she said. "He didn't...get me dirty, I think I'll take one of these to Lieutenant Welsh, why don't I--" she scuttled away, passing Dief a piece of an unidentifiable pastry as she did so. He snapped it up and licked his lips happily.

Fraser sighed at that, but said nothing to her about it. "So, you completed Francesca's errand?" Fraser asked Ray, as they moved toward Ray's desk.

"Yeah, good ol' Angela got her blouse," Ray grinned, watching as Lieutenant Welsh, having taken a breath to bellow Francesca's name, suddenly deflated as she popped up under his nose, proffering desserts. "And we brought back bribes so nobody, such as our boss, would kill us for taking off in the middle of the morning. Got your tunic clean, I see."

"Yes--two of the young women from the secretarial pool, and officers Klein and Arnold, were all quite anxious to help when they saw me with the tunic at the lunchroom sink. Officer Arnold had a Stain Stick in her locker, and it was sufficient for the job, with some warm water."

"Yeah." Ray sighed resignedly. Even a uniform with a Stain Stick could get closer than he could. "Guess we better get back to work."

Fraser lowered his voice and leaned close to Ray. "Incidentally, just so you know--if it should become a genuine issue, Ray Vecchio would likely allow Francesca to buy a car--well, he'd behave as though he had the power to disallow it; but, knowing he didn't, you see--he would insist on participating in the process, saying that she was too...inexperienced, too...naive, to recognize a reliable car from one that might simply look attractive to her."

"As in 'If you're gonna do this thing, I'm gonna come along and make sure you don't get taken 'cause you're too airheaded to buy a car on your own'?"

Fraser cleared his throat. "Something along those lines, yes."

"Well, like you say, we don't know yet if she's getting one; that was just part of the cover. To, ah. You know. Make me look reasonably pissed off at her for making her leave to take her buddy Angela that nice blouse that she had to take her. You know. So anyway, where the hell were we?" Ray sat down at his desk with a determined sigh, listening to the soft happy sounds and the lowering of the level of grumbling and snapping in the room as Francesca distributed good cheer in the form of addictive carbohydrates. "I mean, she's a good kid and all, but I'm not spending all day talking about her and her fashion-doll friends."

He happened to catch Frannie's eye across the room, then; and they exchanged a knowing, microsecond-long smile.

Then, back to business as usual.

End Special Treat by Blue Champagne: bluecham@tds.net

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