Fever

 by Brenda Antrim 1996.  Due South characters used
with love but not permission.  Rated PG13, a B/R story.

Slow day at the office, Ray grinned to himself, and fell 
back into his plans for the evening.  Lorraine was *finally* 
coming over, and he had his special garlic and pesto pasta 
simmering in the crock pot at his apartment.  With chicken
breasts.  Only the good stuff.  His slightly dreamy smile and 
unfocused eyes were wiped abruptly sober as the phone shrilled 
at his elbow.
                                                          
"Vecchio."

His smile turned upside down.

"No.  'Course not.  I understand... it's no problem, Lorraine.  
Yeah.  Cool. Fine.  Bye."  Cradling the phone with exagerrated 
care.  "Damn."  

Sad brown green eyes stared at the now silent, still offensive 
phone.  Working late.  Again.  Couldn't make it.  Sounded like 
a line from a particularly bad country song.  Not that he 
listened to country songs, of course.

*whine*

Ray dropped his head to see equally sad blue eyes staring at 
him from a handsome, if hairy, white face.

"Deif?  Whatcha doin' here?"  He looked around, brow wrinkling 
when he didn't see a familiar red jacket.  "Where's Benny?"

At the name, the wolf's expression perked up, and he wagged 
his tail once.  He was a very good lip reader.  Ray grinned back at him
and picked up the receiver again.  Punching in a number 
he knew by heart, he waited impatiently for his friend to pick up.  Finally,
after the eighth ring, a groggy voice answered.

"Good morning."

"No, it isn't, Benny, it's almost five in the afternoon.  What's wrong
with you?  You sound like you been hit by a truck."

"I'm ... ill, Ray."

When no further information was forthcoming, Ray asked," You 
eaten yet?"  

"No," Fraser answered after some thought.  "I am rather 
hungry.  Perhaps the virus has run its course."  He was sounding a little
stronger.  Ray grinned into the phone.

"Stay right there, Benny, I'll be over in a flash."  Not waiting for
an answer, Ray gathered coat, keys, wallet and wolf and 
headed for the door.  On the other end of the line, Fraser stared straight
ahead and listened to the dial tone.

"I'm not going anywhere, Ray."  Vaguely he wondered if he should get
dressed, since he was nude, having kicked off his thermals in the course
of the fever.  The thought required as much energy as he could muster,
however, leaving none to actually move, so he 
gave up the fight and fell back asleep.

***********************************************************

For once, Ray was glad the door wasn't locked.  He stood back 
and allowed Deifenbaker to shoulder the door open for him, then 
carried in his load of chicken, pasta, crusty fresh bread, jug of mint
tea and jug of orange juice.  His mother swore by pasta 
and oj -- it was just the thing to get a man's blood up and going after
a bout of ... his breath caught and he nearly dropped the
box of supplies.  His thoughts tangled themselves into a knot and he
found himself leaning against the wall, trying not to fall over. 

No damned wonder Francesca and Elaine and the whole female 
population of Chicago was making fools of themselves, ran through his
brain.  He hadn't seen Fraser naked, except when he was shot, or beat
up, or hooked up to machines in the hospital.  Here, 
relatively healthy, sprawled over the spartan bed, arms and legs
flung wide, head tilted back, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his
skin, he looked ... edible.  The word brought him back to 
reality, or at least a version of it, and he swallowed heavily.  Carefully
taking the food over to the counter, he set everything out and tried
to will his erection away.  It didn't work.

"Ray?"  The raspy voice sounded like Benny, only sexier.  Ray 
closed his eyes briefly, then pasted a smile on his face and 
turned to greet his friend.

"Hi, Benny!  I knew you weren't feelin' up to snuff so I brought over
some pasta and juice and..."  His voice trailed off, and he drank in
the sight of his friend.  Normally perfect hair was 
dishevelled, falling over his forehead, and he had draped the 
blanket haphazardly around his waist, flipping the end over one 
shoulder.  Ray had a half remembered flashback to a picture of a Greek
god, Apollo or somebody, from one of his history textbooks in school.
Benny fit the role.  As he watched, the blanket started to slip, but
Fraser was too busy staring back at him to pay attention. 

"I'm fine, Ray."  He cleared his throat roughly, and tried a smile. 
"Well, perhaps fine is an overstatement."  He started to sway, and Ray
stepped forward to loop an arm around his waist.  Leaning the Mountie
up against the counter, Ray looked directly into the hazy blue eyes.

"Benny, listen carefully."  Fraser tried to focus, gave up the 
effort, and nodded earnestly.  "This never happened.  This is a 
fever dream.  This is a figment of your imagination."  Fraser 
frowned at him in sincere concentration, and Ray grinned.  "Unless, of
course, you like it and want to do it again."   Fraser opened his mouth
to ask Ray what on earth he was talking about, and Ray kissed him.  Thoroughly.
Fraser's eyes widened in disbelief, then snapped shut at the sensation
of a hot mouth plundering his own.  His body stirred, fever forgotten,
and he pulled back just long enough to reassure his friend.

"I believe I am no longer contagious, Ray."  Then he reached 
forward and kissed his friend with surprising enthusiasm.  As the two
men wandered toward the general direction of the bed, hands 
beginning to explore one another, a thought swam through Ben's 
dazed mind.

This was one figment he wouldn't mind repeating.

******************finis***********************************