"No Such Thing as Santa"
By Viridian5
11/21/00

RATING: PG-13; Fraser/Kowalski. If m/m interaction bothers you, walk on by.
SPOILERS: "Asylum" and "Easy Money"
SUMMARY: Ray uses mall Santas, pouchy pants, pasties, and comfort elves as a distraction from the real issue.
ARCHIVAL/DISTRIBUTION: Hexwood and Serge. If some kind person feels that this story is appropriate for DSX and wouldn't mind posting it, that would be great as well. Anywhere else too, as long as you ask me first.
FEEDBACK: can be sent to Viridian5@aol.com
DISCLAIMERS: All things due South belong to Alliance no matter how much I want Ray K to belong to me. No infringement intended. Suing me would be a waste of time. Besides, I'd just kick you in the head.

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"No Such Thing as Santa"
By Viridian5
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Ray winced at the sudden wailing that pierced the air. "Big, bad Santa just scared the hell out of another poor kid. Man, that is one job they couldn't pay me enough to do."

Ben looked in through the Christmas Village gate to see the mall Santa trying desperately to console one of the two children sitting on his lap. "Think of the joy you would bring." He didn't sound convincing even to himself.

He didn't mind stopping for a moment here, however. The crowd seemed to be thinner near this part of the village's gate, and the press had been getting to him. With room to breathe, now he only had to contend with how helpless the scared child's crying made him feel. Much as he wished he could console her, he didn't see how.

"Oh yeah, shove a plush toy in the kid's face. That'll make everything less scary." Then Ray actually growled at a shopper who'd bounced off his elbow.

"In a good mood, I think you'd make an excellent Santa."

Ray raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, not like now, right? I'd be the stern, disciplina-- aw, damn. Disciplinarian? I think."

"Yes."

"Thought so. Anyway, I'd be Dark Santa. 'Be good or I'll kick ya in the head.' Because I am not jolly, and I don't have that belly like a bowl full of jelly happening. Even on my worst days, I only get a pathetic jiggle. Which is actually a good thing, as long yer not being Santa Claus."

"I happen to know you look very fetching in red." Ben hadn't succeeded in finding another excuse to get Ray back in a Mountie uniform, and it hadn't been for lack of trying. The uniform lent Ray a more dashing air and did wonders for his posture.

"Yeah, I could be Mountie Claus, carrying toys for the children of the world inside my pouchy pants."

Ben's mouth twitched, undecided on whether it wanted to laugh or thin into a disapproving line at the disrespect Ray had shown to the uniform. "They are most emphatically not called 'pouchy pants.'"

"I know, I know. 'Cause if they were, you guys would never be able to take yerselves seriously. Wearing those pants alone is tough enough, never mind knowing they were called 'pouchy pants.' Don't think the parents would be too thrilled with the necessary striptease aspects of Mountie Claus either. At least not while the kids were around. Having seen Mountie Claus for myself, I have to say it would work in other situations."

"I did not do a striptease while getting your files out of my pants." Not at all. Well, not quite.

"Yeah, ya did. Took it off with a smile, that occasional flicker of tongue over yer lip, and a lot of pizzazz. Especially the bit where you sent the suspenders flying off yer shoulders." Ray, finally starting to smile, flirtatiously toyed with the lapels of his coat in illustration of his words. "A guy could get ideas about you, especially since Turnbull had this whole 'not again, sir' attitude going while ya did it."

No matter how much it warmed him to think that Ray wondered over such things, Ben had his dignity to defend. "Hardly. Constable Turnbull is simply so devoted to curling that he wished I wouldn't distract him from it."

"Curling. Oh yeah. That's what they call it in Canada, huh?" Ray's smile deepened. "If the RCMP really knew what it had on its hands, it'd make pasties part of the uniform. Bright red, with the tassels...."

Ben struggled to clear the onslaught of images from his head. "Ray. Please stop."

"You know what pasties are? Cool."

Ben realized that the child had ceased crying. She now stared at Ray, who always seemed like an utterly different person when happy, even in his looks.

"Sorry, Fraser."

"Hmm?"

Ray looked genuinely contrite, though still far cheerier than he'd started out. "I went kinda far with the pasties thing. I know how you feel about the sacredness of the uniform."

It was sweet. "That's quite all right."

"The Christmas season just does weird things to my head. Maybe it's all the enforced wholesomeness. Or all the stuff shining and blinking and making noise around me. Overstimulation, kind of."

"I know precisely what you mean."

"Yeah?" Ray grinned and started to move on. "Doesn't mean I don't think adults would pay good money to sit on Mountie Claus' lap, though."

The wailing started again, distracting Ben from his attempt to tease sense out of Ray's double negatives, though he knew what Ray meant to say anyway. "Ray, could you indulge me for a moment?"

"Huh?"

"Please walk backwards until I tell you to stop?"

"You want me to return to where I was or literally walk backward?"

"I was too vague. I apologize. I meant, please return." Once Ray did, the crying ceased. "And walk forward?" With Ray out of sight, the child began to wail.

"What are you doing?"

"Testing a theory."

"And my patience," Ray snapped, then shook his head and returned to his spot, to Ben's relief. Santa, the child, and the photographer obviously felt similarly relieved. "I have the swingingest moods around. Geez."

"If you ever decide to switch careers--"

"I could become Ray the comforting elf at Santa's Village. I getcha. As long as I'm not being Ray the crabby elf. But I'm not wearing any tights or funny shoes either way."

"Ray, is something bothering you?" Usually Ray worked his own way into confiding in Ben, but he seemed to need a nudge today.

"I'm sorry I'm being such a Grinch, Fraser." Ray sounded almost relieved to be asked. "I mean, I like the Christmas season. The piney smells and the lights and the bells and the colors and the textures. It's the one time of the year when yer uniform doesn't stand out so much 'cause everything else is bright too, and that's cool. It's like the world becomes this big cat toy, and that really works for me. What's with that look on yer face?"

Ben had no intention of sharing the mental image he'd had of Ray from those words. "Nothing. A moment's distraction. I apologize." No, Ray didn't need to have him describing that sudden fantasy of Ray on his lap under his stroking hand, rubbing against his chest, toying with the trim of his uniform.... He pushed the thought from his mind while Ray needed his attention.

Though it lingered in the back of his mind for later.

Perhaps Ray's Christmas lechery theory required some study.

"Okay. The same Christmas songs replaying over and over make me wanna shoot somebody, and all the people pressing in can get pretty bad, and the season can bring out the worst in people as well as the best, but I mostly like the Christmas thing."

"The crowds can be daunting." With Ray's warning about how tight the throng would probably be in mind, Ben had left Diefenbaker at the consulate for everyone's protection.

"There are probably more people in this mall right now than you have living in all of the Northwest Areas."

"Terri--"

"I know, Fraser."

"You may be right about the population."

"Yeah. I think it's just getting to me that I can't figure out what to get Dad for Christmas. I thought that an idea would grab me if I walked around looking, but it doesn't seem to be working."

"Grab you? It sounds more like a mugging than Christmas shopping."

"Christmas shopping is exactly like getting mugged. Can't believe you just got that now."

"You could make something for him."

"Last thing I made for anyone was an ashtray in the second grade. No one in my family smokes, and the thing looked like I put it together while I was doing acid."

"I'm sure your father will love anything you choose to give him."

"Uh, yeah." Ray shook his head. "Let's go. I'm not getting anywhere with this today. I still have two weeks. Proper Preparation at work."

"Perhaps I can help you brainstorm." Anything to ease the sadness and anger that seemed to be flashing through Ray.

"It's just that I haven't gotten him anything for a few years. Don't look at me like that."

"I'm not. In any case, you're not even looking at me to see."

"I know you are inside yer head. Thing is, I stopped buying Christmas gifts for him after the first two years' stuff came right back to me marked Return to Sender. I'm not stupid. Less chance of that happening this year since I'm actually invited to see him, but I still don't know what I'm going to hand him as a gift."

Ben rarely felt the urge to murder.

"Sometimes there's nothing you can do. You just have to figure out when that is," Ray said, looking at the floor as he walked. "But, hey, things are better now."

They didn't look much better. Greatly daring, Ben took off his Stetson and placed it atop Ray's head. The hat often seemed to help.

Ray's lips curved up, and his eyes regained some of their customary gleam. Success. It often surprised Ben that small things could so lift Ray's spirits. He admired that trait.

It did nothing to change Ray's quandary, but at least it seemed to make him feel a bit better. Ben would have to see if he could help with fixing the cause of Ray's distress.

"Maybe you could hire the magic Stetson out to Santa's Village," Ray said, as his fingers stroked its brim.

"Like you, my Stetson has a prior engagement."