Mountie on the Yankee
By Postcard
Rating: -R. Episode Related. Romance. Humour.
Pairings: - Thatcher/Male.
Teaser: - I think the title says it all, te he he.
Disclaimer: - The Due South characters in this story are not mine and anything else Due South isn't mine either. I do not mean to infringe on copyrights held by any copyright holders for Due South. The story however is mine (copyright October 2000 by Postcard on all original story content.) Please do not reproduce for anything other than personal reading without the written consent of author. This story is not written for profit and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit.
Author's note: - This story is set directly after MOTB and refers to some events in the episode. Hope you all enjoy reading this and any constructive comments are welcome at postcard@manutd.com
Seated around the campfire at Sam Thorne's detachment headquarters, Kowalski and Welsh surveyed their home for the night. Situated on the edge of Lake Superior, the camp was fringed by dense woods. Rows of tents, like Mounties on parade, were their only shelter for the night, from whatever Canada chose to throw at them.
To the Americans disgust, the food was definitely not cordon bleu---but, cordon yuck! Upon examination of the food, Kowalski still couldn't work out what it was. "Er, Fraze?"
"Yes, Ray?"
"Wad the hell is this?"
"Detective, I think it's best not to ask!" Welsh wisely uttered.
Moving the substance around with his fork, Kowalski thought he recognised something. His eyes went wide and his face turned a nice shade of emerald green. "Holy cow! Noooooo! Fraser, tell me this ain't wad I think it is!?!?"
Fraser looked sheepish. "Erm, that depends on what you think it is Ray!"
"Don't ya get cocky with me, Fraze! Ya don't seriously expect me ta eat this, do ya?!?!"
"Ray, it really is very wholesome. Try some! It's not, er, that bad a taste and you never know, you might actually like it!"
Ray shot Fraser a 'as if!' look. "Like dat's ever gonna happen!" Ray emptied his plate onto the ground. Instantly, Dief was by his side. Sniffing the ground, Dief made a disgusted sound, and then tail in the air, the wolf pranced off. "See! Even Dief won't touch it."
"Er---Fraser?" Welsh looked uncomfortably at Fraser.
"Yes, leftenant?"
Leaning close to Fraser, Welsh whispered, "Erm---can you---can you tell me where the toilets are?"
"Oh! Erm…" Fraser cracked his neck. "I'm, er, afraid I don't know. I haven't seen any around. I'll have to ask Sergeant Thorne."
"Ask me what?" Thorne bellowed.
"Could you kindly tell us where the toilets are? Leftenant Welsh would like to know, and for that matter, so would I?"
"There aren't any," Thorne told them.
"There aren't?" Welsh exclaimed. Kowalski and Thatcher exchanged horrified glances.
"No," Thorne said in a hard tone and giving him an equally hard look.
"Oh dear!" Fraser rubbed his left eyebrow.
"Then what am I meant to do?" Welsh asked with a desperate look on his face.
"Be a man, go behind the bushes," Thorne instructed him.
"And what about toilet paper?" Welsh asked.
With an embarrassed look on her face, Thorne tipped her head to the right. "Well---erm---we---er---we generally use---leaves."
"LEAVES!?!?" Both Kowalski, Welsh and even Thatcher shouted appalled.
"I take it there isn't a shower anywhere, then?" Thatcher sounded somewhat depressed.
"Oh, yes, there's a shower. We've given you an en-suite bathroom---there's a bucket and sponge at the side of your tent."
Thatcher's mouth dropped open in shock and she stared at Thorne. Meg wasn't sure if Thorne was being insubordinate or just eccentric! Kowalski cracked off laughing. "Ooooh! How nice of em! What do ya say ta dat? Aren't ya gonna thank em? Hey, if da Ice Queen's getting special treatment, den its only fair dat as yer guests we do too! How bout a Jacuzzi? I'd love ta see how ya come up with dat?" Ray broke into laughter again.
Knife in hand, Thatcher sat glaring at Kowalski. "Oh dear!" Fraser muttered, whilst jumping to his feet. Moving around to the back of Thatcher, Fraser calmly spoke to her. "Sir, I see you've finished with your food! Here, let me take your plate and cutlery away for you?" Without giving her time to protest, he whipped them out of her hands. Knife now out of her reach, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"How about a good old sing song?" Ed "Iron bottom" Smithers jovially said.
"Yes, excellent idea, Sir," Fraser cheerfully agreed. Secretly, Ben thought that they could all do with something to take their minds off things, before a fight started.
Smithers started a sea shanty off and all of the Mounties, except for Thatcher, began to join in with him. Taking a swig of his bottle of Rum, Ed nudged the prisoners that were tied up next to him. "Come on you pieces of scum, sing!"
To give the prisoners some more encouragement, Thorne picked up a long stick and like a choirmaster; she marched along the line of prisoners, prodding them to make them sing louder.
The raucous singing was slowly driving Thatcher up the trees. Looking out over the Lake, Thatcher felt like jumping into it. "Here, give me some of that!" Thatcher shouted over the loud singing and pointed to Ed's bottle of Rum. If she was going to get out of this---sane, Thatcher reasoned that she was going to need some stiff alcohol to help her through it! Taking a swig of the Rum, Thatcher thought, * Oh, what the hell! If you can't beat em, join em! * And she started to join in the singing.
* * * * *
Thatcher and Welsh walked together under the twilight to their tents. The only other light came from the tiny lanterns at the side of each tent. They could still hear the others singing in the background. "I think we made rather a good partnership today, don't you?" Thatcher asked.
"Yes, we did." He smiled at her and she smiled back. Welsh lightly placed his hand on her back and for the second time that day, just like when he had put his hand on her back on the Bounty, Meg felt a tingle go down her spine at his touch.
"Er---about those bears you mentioned! They're not likely to come anywhere near the camp, are they?" Welsh asked her.
"It's possible. In fact, I'd say it's highly likely, if they smell the food." Witnessing the look of horror on his face, she quickly added, "Erm, the fires should keep them at bay though."
"Oh! Good." Smiling, he said, "Ah! But will I be safe from BTC, tonight?"
Thatcher laughed. "You'll be safe. I'll personally make sure of that!" He didn't get the chance to ask 'what she meant' because, they'd reached his allocated tent. "Ah! We're here. Goodnight, Lieutenant!" Meg stood with her hands clasped behind her back and nervously rocked back and forth on her feet.
"Er, yes, goodnight, Inspector!"
To his complete surprise and delight, Meg leaned towards him and lightly pecked him on the cheek. "Goodnight," she repeated, only softly this time. Spinning around on her heels, she walked over to her tent. Welsh stood outside his tent, with a smile and a look of surprise plastered to his face. He didn't enter his tent until he had watched Meg unzip the flap to her tent, wave to him and then safely enter her own tent.
* * * * *
By the light of the moon, Thatcher crept on tiptoe, towards the tent that was two down from hers. Dressed in only her bra and knickers, she prayed that nobody would see her. The night air was nipping at her exposed skin and she started to get goose bumps. Nearing the tent, heavy footsteps caught her attention. * Shit!!! * Thatcher quickly looked around for somewhere to hide. The only place was---the woods.
Dashing into the woods, Thatcher hid behind one of the many wide tree-trunks. Peering through the darkness she saw a glimpse of Kowalski. She held her breath as he walked towards the woods. * Go away! Just fucking go away! The longer I stay here, the more chance I have of meeting a bear! * Plus, she'd never live it down if he caught her naked, hiding in the woods! The scenarios he'd come up with didn't bare thinking about!
Behind her tree, Thatcher kept as still as a statue, whilst Kowalski walked past her towards another tree. Standing in front of his tree, Kowalski slightly spread his legs, then unzipped his pants and…<EG>
Watching him, Thatcher's eyes and mouth went wide, and then the corners of her mouth crept up into a smirk. While Kowalski went about his---business, Meg had to stifle a laugh. When he'd finished---relieving himself, Thatcher crept out from behind her tree and headed once more to her desired tent. Reaching the tent, she let out a sigh of relief at not having met a bear or been caught by anyone. Unzipping the entrance, she crawled inside the tiny tent.
Startled, the occupant of the tent---Welsh, sat bolt upright at her surprise entry. Realising that Thatcher was sitting on the edge of his sleeping bag and that she was so skimpily dressed, his eyes went wide in shock. Trying to avert his eyes from her, he stuttered, "Erm---I-In-Inspector…?"
"It's Meg, not Inspector." Looking straight at him, Thatcher bodly asked, "Do you mind if I spend the night?"
"I…"
While he stared at her in surprise, she reached behind her and unclasped her bra. Slipping it off her shoulders, she let it slide off her arms and onto the sleeping bag. In the waistband of her knickers she extracted a 'lucky' and placed it at the side of the sleeping bag. And then, without delay, she pulled her knickers off and slung them to the back of the tent. Unzipping his sleeping bag, she climbed in and lay on top of his naked body.
Without hesitation, Welsh automatically wrapped his arms around her. Meg looked down at him seductively, and feeling his tackle harden against her, she smiled. Welsh reached behind her head and ran his fingers through her hair, before pulling her head down, so that their lips met.
Coming up for air, he looked into her eyes. "Meg, are you sure you want to do this?"
"Positive." She ran her hands over his chest and shoulders, and then along his strong, thick arms.
"But why me? I mean, I'm thrilled that you want me, but---why not Fraser, or even Kowalski? I'm a lot older than you and not exactly in the best shape!"
"Let's just say, 'I like sailors'." With that she kissed him on the lips.
Welsh couldn't quite believe that he was in bed with, and making love to, Meg Thatcher. He'd always found her attractive---well---sexy as sin. Not only that, but also, he thought that she was highly intelligent and one tough cookie. Earlier today, he'd found out that she was not just strong in character, but surprisingly strong in physique as well. For instance---the way she had moved the cannon had impressed him immensely. Likewise, she'd impressed him by being smart enough to figure out that the four numbers were not phone numbers, but map co-ordinates. Yes, this woman was definitely bowling him over!
While they made love, a storm started to brew. The trees swayed and the wind battered the little tent, and churned the lake up into a large froth pool. Harding and Meg were oblivious to the storm; their attention was solely on each other.
Sitting up on him, the first waves of climax washed over Meg's body and she gripped his shoulders. As the wave grew, she threw her head back in ecstasy and cried out, "YES! Oh God, YES!"
The same tidal wave hit Welsh and gripping her backside, he groaned in pleasure. Her cries of rapture thrilled him even more, he was so pleased that he was satisfying her and he called out her name over and over again. "Meg! Oh, Meg!"
When the tides of passion had subsided, Meg slid off Welsh. Lying at the side of him, she cuddled up to him. He in turn stroked her thigh that she had slung over him. "Nice leg," he complimented
Meg smiled up at him and rubbed his arm that was on her thigh. "Nice arm." They both smiled at their private joke---the first time they'd told each other that, together they had knocked a criminal off the ship and into the water.
His kissed the top of her head. "I can't believe you're actually here with me!"
"Well, I did say that I'd 'personally make sure' that you'd be safe from BTC, and I'm a woman of my word."
"That you are, honey." He lightly kissed her forehead. "Meg, do you usually carry a condom with you? Or is it part of the uniform?"
"Ha, ha! Very funny." Meg playfully smacked his arm. "A Mountie should always be prepared!"
They were silent for a few moments and then Welsh spoke in a serious tone. "You know, you didn't answer my question before about 'why me, and not Fraser or Kowalski'?"
"That's easy, they're just not you." She smiled up at him and he kissed her on the lips. "I can't stand Kowalski." She thought it best not to add---'and furthermore, from observation tonight, he's got a small dick!' "And Fraser---well---he drives me insane, he's too irritating. Fraser doesn't live in the real world! Hey…!" She playfully patted his chest. "What's all this crap about you being 'a lot older than me and not in great shape'? Don't be a moron! Your age doesn’t matter to me. Anyway, you're not that much older than me and well---" She smiled impishly at him. "Age means experience and you've proved that just now!"
She laughed as he blushed slightly and looked a little embarrassed. "And about your shape---I think you looked really sexy today, when you were in just your white undershirt and were heaving that rope. You've got great muscles. " She lustfully kneaded them. "You shouldn't underestimate yourself."
Resting her head on his chest, she said, "Plus, I like a bit of meat on a man---there's more to cuddle up to." She squeezed him and kissed his chest. Nuzzling his neck, she then rested her head back onto her favourite spot---his chest.
Softly placing a kiss in her hair, he whispered, "I love you, Meg. Goodnight, honey."
Meg heard him, and she felt all warm and fuzzy inside. Smiling, she told him, "I love you too. Goodnight, Captain Harding."
He smiled at her pet name for him and taking hold of one of her hands, he lovingly kissed it. Placing her hand on his chest, he covered hers, with his own hand.
Cuddled up to him, with his other arm protectively holding her, she drifted happily off to sleep.