Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/a_kite_fic/

Disclaimer: Due South and its characters are not mine, just so you know. :)

Author's Notes: Originally written for the Many Tongues Challenge on ds_flashfiction, but I missed the deadline. Big thanks to BJC and Shay for beta reading it. Their suggestions really helped.

Story Notes:

Ray Vecchio, formerly known as Ray Kowalski, and his partner, Constable Benton Fraser, and Fraser's half wolf, Diefenbaker, exited the restaurant where they had been having breakfast just in time to see the tow truck with Ray's car attached pull away.

Ray gave chase. Yelling, "Hey! Hey! That's my car!" It was much too late. The tow truck never slowed. "Dief! Dief, buddy, follow that truck!" That was useless also. The wolf was deaf and not facing Ray at all. In fact, he was making use of the fire hydrant in front of which Ray had parked.

"Damn, damn, damn! What kind of lunatic tows a cop's car?"

"Well, Ray. . .," Fraser started to speak.

"Stop, Fraser. Do not say it."

"Say what, Ray?"

"Do not give me that clueless Mountie look, Fraser. You know you were going to say," Ray's whole demeanor changed, it took on the look of his partner. Even Ray's voice changed, "Well Ray, if you had taken my advice and not parked illegally, your car would not have been towed." In his own voice and manner, he continued, "That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

Fraser nodded.

"Let's skip the lecture this time, okay?"

"Understood, Ray."

Thankfully, it was only a short walk to the station. Ray was on his cellphone the entire trip. "Yeah, it's a 1967, black, double-barreled GTO, License number WE 761." There was a pause. "A Pontiac, Papa, Oscar, November, T-, yeah, Pontiac. License number Whiskey, Echo 761. What do you mean it isn't in the system yet? Okay, okay, I know it's not your fault. Call me when you know what impound yard it was towed to, huh?"

As soon as they entered the squad room Lt. Welsh called them over. "Vecchio, we got a lead in the Carmichael case. Go over to -"

Ray interrupted, "No can do, Lieutenant. I've got no wheels." Before he could continue, his cell phone rang. "Vecchio. Yeah, okay. I'll be there in a few minutes. Yeah, thanks."

"Detective?"

"Sorry. My car was towed this morning. I'm going over to get it."

The lieutenant shook his head. "First things first, Vecchio. First you go downstairs and sign out a car. You go pick up our witness. After you're done taking his statement, then you can worry about getting your car out of impound."

"But-"

"No buts, Vecchio."

Ray's whole body sagged, eloquently portraying his disappointment. He nodded, straightened and immediately was in motion. "Come on, Fraser. Pitter patter, let's get at 'er."

There was another argument with the sergeant in charge of the motor pool. "No, please. Not the Ford, anything but a Ford," Ray pleaded.

"Sorry, Vecchio. The Chevy is outta commission right now. The only thing we got left is the Fairmont. Take it or leave it," the sergeant said with much satisfaction in his voice. Evidently, he didn't like anyone disparaging his cars.

"All right, okay," Ray agreed, resigned to the fact that he had to drive a lame, piece of shit car. It was only for a little while, right? Over to pick up the witness, then whoom - right back to the station. Ray signed the logbook and got the keys.

As they headed out the door the sergeant called after them, "And try to bring this one back in one piece, huh, Vecchio?"

Ray shot the guy the finger, but only after Fraser was through the door and couldn't see him. He wasn't up for a lecture about crude hand gestures across the globe. Still, he grumbled all the way to the car. "How about you drive, Fraser? I'll hide in the back seat so nobody sees me."

Naturally, Fraser took him seriously, "To what purpose, Ray? This is a witness we're bringing in, correct? Not a suspect that you might need to surprise and apprehend."

Ray sighed, "Right, a witness. Just get in the car, Fraser. Please."

Fraser watched through the two-way glass into the interview room as Ray took the witness' statement. The witness was less than helpful, truly, and Ray's exasperation was certainly justified. Fraser could only hope that his partner didn't kick the man in the head or have a stroke by holding back.

He watched as Ray took a deep breath and started speaking again. "Okay, let's make sure I've got this down right, Mr. Gordon. You actually didn't see anything of a criminal nature on the night in question, and you weren't close enough to the suspect to make a clear identification?"

Mr. Wayne Gordon was a small man who looked even smaller huddled in the chair with Ray looming over him. His voice whined when he answered, "Sorry. You know, I thought I might have saw something, but I don't remember so good anymore."

"Right," Ray agreed. "So maybe you can tell me this, what'd Carmichael threaten you with?"

"Nothing. I swear, nothing. Can I go now?"

Ray made a sweeping gesture toward the door. "Sure thing, and if you find your memory improving, you got my card, right?"

The little man patted his pocket and nodded. He opened his mouth and whined again, "Don't I get a ride home?"

Ray bared his teeth to the man, but, miraculously, Ray didn't explode. He pushed a hand through his hair and answered, "Yeah, sure. Why the hell not? Park it for a second. I'll be right back." Fraser came out of the observation room just in time to hear Ray mumble, "Pierdolony chujek."

He jumped when Fraser came up behind him and admonished him, "Language, Ray."

"What? Since when do you speak Polish?" Ray was honestly surprised.

"Oh! That was Polish? I assumed it to be Italian, Detective Vecchio," Fraser answered, stressing the Vecchio firmly.

"I got you, ixnay on the olishpay." Particularly the dirty Polish, Ray thought, thankful that Fraser didn't know he called Gordon a fucking little dick. Lt. Welsh didn't seem any happier than Ray that Carmichael had gotten to their witness, but he waved Ray on to get the man out of the station, and consequently, finally, to the impound yard.

There the real nightmare part of the day began. Never in his life had Ray seen so many rude, quarrelsome people. Okay, so maybe the amount of money you had to pay to get your car back was a lot. Hell, it had taken him back quite a bit. In fact, he'd had to have a quick, quiet conversation with Fraser to see if he had any American type money on him. Close to two hundred bucks, it'd cost to get his car back, and he didn't have that much cash with him.

Fraser had plucked the Stetson off his head and started counting out bills. Ray shielded him as much as he could. The impound yard wasn't in the best part of town, and some of the characters waiting in line looked like they'd kill for five dollars. Mr. Polite, Ray wasn't, but jeeze, these people. There were four people in line before Ray, and every single one of them threw a fit when they got to the window. One man's son walked away in disgust at his father, after reminding him that he had indeed parked illegally.

Ray had been ready to show his badge, march up to the front of the line and make demands of his own when he got there. How the clerk put up with it all day long was beyond him. The clerk was a pretty big guy. Ray sure wouldn't want to tangle with him, but the little Hispanic guy two ahead of Ray, certainly didn't seem to show any fear. After a while, Ray tried to tune out the other people and concentrate on Fraser's face. There was a little bench over to the side, and he'd sent Fraser over to have a seat while they waited for Ray's turn.

The Hispanic man was ranting on about something in Spanish, and Fraser's face was priceless. A twitch here and a wince there and a good eyebrow rub in for good measure at some shouted word that Ray was sure was something particularly vile. Ray was just ready to intercede, when the man slammed his money down and stalked over to the gate. He started yelling again when the electronic gate didn't open for him. The clerk had to call him back anyway to sign the release. What a hot head!

Ray turned and looked out into the yard and tried to find his car in the jumble of vehicles. He'd thought it was a jumble at first, and then he made out the pattern. Towed, undamaged cars were right in the front. The ones with a little damage were back a bit further; the rest of the lot was full of the wrecks. He spotted the GTO toward the end of the first line and gave a sigh of relief. Between the car getting stolen and this, he'd hardly had time to get to know the car again.

The man just ahead of Ray was making a fuss now. He'd come to claim a car that wasn't his and didn't have the right paperwork with him. Oh, his wife, that didn't have the same last name, who couldn't come for some odd reason. Ray almost cheered when the clerk didn't back down one bit. The clerk explained the procedure to the jerk for the tenth time, and eventually, after a rant about how his taxes paid the clerk's salary, the man huffed away. Idiot, this was a private lot. Yeah, they got money from the city to store cars, but they weren't city employees.

The clerk's window was high up almost over Ray's head. It was kind of annoying having to yell to be heard, but he decided to take a leaf from Fraser's book. Ray did not get angry, and he certainly didn't make a scene. He handed the title up with his driver's license and sent a thank you skyward, for having had the forethought to get a title in Vecchio's name. He'd have to thank Fraser for that too. Maybe spring for a pizza later - or maybe a trip by the bank first. Ouch! It hurt handing all that money over, but it was his own fault. If he'd just listened to his partner this morning...

Later, as the partners sat on Ray's sofa, they ate pizza as a hockey game played mostly unwatched on the television screen in front of them. That's because Fraser was watching Ray, and Ray was feeling very self-conscious about it. Fraser looked away every time Ray turned to him, but once the pizza was gone, he had to say something. "Fraser? What is it? Did I grow a second head here or something?"

Fraser looked taken back. "Oh no, Ray."

"Then why you been staring at me all night?"

Fraser turned his eyes away again. "I'm sorry, Ray. Perhaps, Dief and I should return to the consulate."

Ray shook his head. "No. You look like a man that has something to say. Just say it, okay? I'm not gonna get mad."

Fraser looked back at Ray and said, "Yes, that's it. I'm not sure how to say this, Ray, but Diefenbaker and I are rather worried about you. You barely got angry all day. Are you feeling well?"

Ray chuckled then answered, "Sure Fraser, like the wolf noticed anything but the pizza, but to answer your question, I'm feeling quite well, thank you kindly."

Fraser closed his eyes momentarily as if gathering strength. "Ray, please stop. This isn't like you."

"What? You don't like Canadian? Ray asked, really amused now.

"Canadian? I'm not sure I understand."

"I decided today to learn to speak Canadian, and you don't like it? Don't you always say; it only takes a few extra seconds to be courteous?"

"Well, certainly Ray, common courtesy is never amiss."

Ray noticed that Fraser hadn't touched the Canadian bit at all. He decided just to go for it. "Okay, you don't like my Canadian, how about I show you my French?"

Fraser had just started to say, "I didn't know you spoke...". Ray leaned in and kissed him - wet and nasty with lots of tongue. Fraser didn't pull away. In fact, he was kissing right back; stroking Ray's tongue with his own. They were both breathing heavily when they finally ended the kiss. Panting, Fraser said, "Perhaps I could acquaint you with a bit of Latin, Ray."

Fraser proceeded to pull Ray's t-shirt off over his head and reached for the zipper on Ray's jeans. His partner's eyebrows had climbed halfway to his hairline, but Ray wasn't protesting. Indeed, he eagerly raised his hips so Fraser could remove his trousers and underwear. There was another part of Ray that clearly wasn't protesting. Ray's cock was standing tall, flushed and leaking.

"Fraser, what kind of Latin do you speak with your clothes off?" Ray asked weakly as Fraser moved to his knees in front of him.

"Fellatio, Ray," Fraser answered as he leaned forward and took the head of Ray's cock into his mouth.

Ray moaned. It felt so good that his eyes almost rolled back into his head, but he didn't want that. Ray wanted to watch every second of what was becoming the best blowjob of his life. Oh, yeah, it wasn't going to last long. Already Ray could feel the tingles coming up his spine. He tried to speak a warning, but all that came out of his mouth was a long, low groan. Fraser didn't seem to care. He was lapping up spunk like it was - Ray didn't know - but something really good.

When Ray recovered enough to lift his head from the back of the couch, he found Fraser still on his knees. Still watching Ray, as he had been all day. Ray offered his hands to give Fraser a lift up. That put Ray's face right at Fraser's crotch. He looked up at the Mountie and said, "How about you, Frase? You ready for some of that Latin?" Then he smiled, "Or how about Greek, you speak Greek?" He reached out and gave Fraser's cock a little squeeze.

Fraser shuddered and almost came just from the touch, but managed to hold back. He stepped away from the couch and put a hand out to Ray. "I've never tried Greek, Ray, but I think I'd like to learn."

Ray let Fraser help him off the sofa and led him to the bedroom, thinking, how did that old saying go? When in Rome?

The End

End Impounded by A. Kite: AKite68163@aol.com

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