Disclaimer: I don't own

Author's Notes: Betas and thanks: Helen78 (who I will drag into this fandom yet) and the wonderful Shrewreader for looking over this several times for me. Thanks to my f-list for enabling me.
Authors notes: This hit as a crack!fic idea and everyone has to write a cliché sometime.

Going undercover in a sex club with Constable Benton Fraser was nuts, unhinged.

Ray Kowalski fisted Fraser's hair and pushed his own back against the brick wall of the alley way of the club. Fraser was too damn good at this. He didn't even want to think how Fraser had learned to suck someone off like this. Ray tried to clear his head enough to remember how he'd -- they'd -- gotten here.

Okay, so that was a clich. Ray knew how he'd gotten there. Fraser and he had been lent to another district for an undercover operation. When he looked back, agreeing to the whole thing had been nuts.

The plan was simple enough: infiltrate the club, pose as a couple for a few days, then have a messy break-up fight in the club. If the suspect followed his established pattern, he'd be quick to snag Ray, and hopeful make his lips a bit looser. In fact, the suspect -- one Jermyn Owens -- had showed ample interest in Ray already.

Jermyn Owens had a thing for wiry blondes, it seemed. Over the last two years, Owens had been the center of an investigation surrounding the disappearances of young men -- men who'd been seen last in Owens's company, then had turned up months later, mutilated

Ray groaned and arched into Fraser's mouth. Fraser, it seemed, had ample interest in his partner lately himself.

The stumbling block for Ray was how the hell they'd gotten from pretending to be fucking, to this alleyway with Fraser on his knees sucking Ray off.

Fraser didn't seem to be having any similar problems. He seemed content in sucking Ray's brains out through his dick. More content, in fact, than Ray could remember seeing him in a while.

"Fra--," Ray had to bite his tongue to keep from using the wrong name. He tugged at Fraser's hair again. "Close," he warned.

Fraser didn't seem to care and that damn tongue that taunted Ray on a regular basis ran over the slit of his dick. Moments later, Ray spent himself in Fraser's mouth with a broken cry.

Fraser cleaned him with his tongue, then tucked Ray's cock back in his pants. At that moment, Fraser reminded Ray of Dief when he'd stolen some pizza.

Fraser rose to his feet and gave Ray a hint of a smile as he leaned close. "I believe the man who was watching us is now satisfied."

Ray nodded mutely; leave it to Fraser to go down on his partner only to keep their cover from being blown. "Yeah, I think he was," and so was I. "We should go back in, Robert." He made a point of using Fraser's cover name and made a mental note that they needed to talk about this. Later.

"Right you are, Stan," Fraser said with a smile that could have been sarcastic.

Ray made a face. The lieutenant had to have it in for him. Why, of all the names he had to get for this gig, did it have to be Stanley?

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

Who would have guessed that Perfect Mountie boy was a good dancer? It was too unreal that Fraser could dance like this, all up close and personal with Ray's body, without blushing. Either Fraser had been watching a lot of Dirty Dancing or the guy had more of a social life in Canada than he let on.

Ray shivered as Fraser's hands pulled him closer. "Who are you and what have you done with my partner?" he mumbled into Fraser's ear. "You're good at this."

Fraser laughed. "Thank you kindly," he said and ran his hand down Ray's back to his ass. Fraser tongue darted out licking the corner of his mouth, before pulling Ray closer.

Ray's eyes almost rolled back in his head as their crotches brushed. Thank you kindly, indeed, Ray thought. *************

Ray put the phone down and glanced across the tiny motel room at his partner and best friend. Fraser was staring out the tiny window, apparently lost in thought. Or maybe he was just hoping Ray wouldn't try to talk about what happened in the alley again. The pink neon from the motel sign had to be hurting Fraser's eyes the way he was staring at it.

"They found another one," Ray told him. "That number twenty-three in the last three months."

"This certainly wasn't in the script." Fraser looked up at him, his lips pressed thin. "What do you suggest, then?"

The damn script, Ray thought, didn't have you sucking me off either.

When they'd taken the assignment, Fraser had insisted on them planning everything out. `Knowing one's course of action in such cases is beneficial,' which Ray figured was Fraser-speak for 'let's have a script so we don't fuck this up.' "I think if we stage a scene for tomorrow night, Owens would go for it. Hell, he'd of gone for it tonight."

"I believe he would, Ray. He seemed quite, ah, taken with you this evening." Fraser looked uncomfortable with the thought.

Ray hadn't exactly felt at easy with Owens' hands all over him. He'd gone undercover in vice work before, but something about this guy creeped him out. Maybe it was the too handsome, Bond villain look the guy had going. Or it could have been the pink shoes. Who the fuck wears pink shoes other than chicks? "Frase, it'll be fine. Business as usual for us, just this time I'm setting `em up and you get to take the bastard down."

"Ray," Fraser said, not looking at him. "Are we--good, Ray?"

"Yeah, we're good." Ray could hear Fraser cracking his neck across the room. Figured the one damn time he didn't want Fraser to leave something alone, he would.

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

Ray could feel Fraser's eyes on him across the crowd club, but he didn't make any move away from the bar.

Fuck. Please don't forget the god-damn plan, Frase. No way in hell did Ray want to go into that darkened backroom with Owens. Ray could kick in heads with the best of them but this guy had a good hundred pounds on him.

Ray's steps faltered for a moment, and Owens tightened his grip on Ray's arm. "If he wants to keep you, he should take care of your needs better, Stan."

"His loss is your gain, huh?" Ray laughed, allowing Owens to press a possessive bite to his throat. That got Fraser's attention. About fucking time, Ray thought as his partner stalked across the room.

With a push away from Owens, Ray looked at Fraser. "Hey--Robbie, it's not what it looks like! We were just--"

Fraser's hand clamped down on his shoulder and Ray winced a bit at the force. He glared at Fraser, because hey, that hurt.

As it was, he wasn't at all ready for what Fraser said.

"God-damn bloody slut," Fraser hissed at him, `slut' sounding more hateful once it was out in the open.

Ray's mouth fell open. This wasn't in the plan, and his Fraser sure as hell didn't say words like that at least not without blushing as red as his serge. "R-Robert?"

Fraser actually looked angry, and Ray took a step back. "You'd let anyone fuck you, wouldn't you? All they have to do is look at you, and you spread for them."

Oh, God, it hurt to hear Fraser say that. Ray knew he didn't mean it. Fraser couldn't mean it. But that didn't make the words hurt any less -- or sound any less like Stella's.

Part of Ray was actually glad when Owens stepped in between them. "I suggest you go home and sober up, Robert." Behind Fraser, two of the club's security guards came forward at Owens's gesture. Perks of owning the place, Ray guessed, having goons at your call.

Fraser's jaw clenched, and for a horrifying moment, Ray thought he just might fight the guards that led him to the door.

"You okay?" Owens's arm was comforting around Ray's shoulder and Ray had to remind himself that the man was suspected of murdering half a dozen or more young men.

Ray forced himself to nod and lie. "I'm good."

***********

Ray wasn't good, but he didn't have much chance to think about it after that night.

Owens wasn't the perp at all. Instead, it was Owens's best friend and business partner, James Cook. Cook couldn't stand sharing Owens with anyone, it seemed, especially not `fucking whores that don't know shit `bout him,' as Cook had put it.

Ray wound up giving Owens his business card with his home number scribbled on the back, you know, in case you need to talk. Not that Ray wanted to fucking talk about anything that had gone down.

Not the blow job, or how good it felt to have Fraser's mouth on him. Defiantly didn't want to talk about how right Fraser's hands had felt on Ray's hips, strong but gentle; touching Ray like he was something special.

Which it would seem, at least to Fraser, Ray wasn't.

No, no, no, Ray wasn't going to think about Fraser's word. He couldn't and keep the car on the road.

Fraser wouldn't even look at him on the ride home, and that hurt almost as much as his words had. Maybe it really was what Fraser thought of him. Maybe Stella had said something about how they'd experimented during the early days of their marriage--but nah, Stella was better than that, and he knew it.

Ray's fingers itched with the urge to call her. Even being hung up on would be better than the silence in the car. Even the wolf was being quiet, which just freaked the hell out of him.

"Would you like to stop for pizza, Ray?" Fraser asked quietly, still not looking at him.

Ray wanted to hit him. To kiss him. To do anything that would get his best friend to look him in the eye again.

Hell, he'd settle for being looked down on at this point.

"Not hungry." Truth was he'd probably hurl it up.

For a bare moment, Ray could feel Fraser's eyes on him, but when he turned his head Fraser was staring out the window. "Understood."

Fraser wasn't even going to argue with him about it, Ray realized. He almost slammed on the brakes and kicked Fraser's ass out of the car. At least then Fraser wouldn't seem him cry.

***********

To Ray's relief, the Ice Queen kept Fraser busy for the next few days. This way he didn't have to actively avoid Fraser.

Ray hadn't expected to have to keep himself away, though. End of the day and his brain went on auto-pilot to pick Fraser up from the Consulate for dinner. Ray made himself drive by without stopping each time; he wasn't ready to deal with the Mountie yet.

Which was bull-- he was just too chickenshit to deal with him.

Tonight Ray picked up the phone half a dozen times to call Fraser, just to check on Dief, of course, before he slammed it back down.

Music. He needed music.

He needed some good ol' loud, heart pounding music to get his feet moving and his brain to shut off.

He flipped through his CD's before settling on Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood by Santa Esmeralda.

Even his landlady liked this one.

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

Ray jerked to a stop in his dancing when he realized the banging he was hearing wasn't in the song or his own head.

Growling slightly at what idiot could be interrupting him -- Landlady, maybe, but it wasn't even past midnight yet -- he shut the music off and walked towards the door.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya! Keep your freakin' shirt on," Ray called as he yanked open the door. "Yeah, okay, I'll turn the music dow--Fraser?"

Fraser stood there, his hand posed to knock again. He wasn't in his serge, which Ray was thankful for because you just couldn't get through to the guy when he wore it sometimes.

"Ray, I was starting to believe you would not be answering your door," Fraser said, looking more than a little nervous. Diefenbaker sat at his feet and whimpered at Ray.

"You know I can't hear the door over music," Ray snapped. He was not in the mood for a social call. He looked down at Dief, who cocked his head to the side as if to say `this wasn't my idea'. "Get in here, Fraser."

Fraser shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I came by to offer my sincere apology for my behavior at that club. I was completely out of line and--"

"Fraser, shut the hell up and get in here, before I drag you in."

"Yes, Ray." Fraser blinked and stepped into Ray's apartment.

"Do you even know what you're sorry about, Fraser? Or are you just trying to appease me? See, I know triple score words too." Ray knew he was being petty but he didn't care. He wasn't ready to deal with this shit. In his head, he could hear the whole speech Fraser was sure to give, full of "shouldn't allow this to affect our partnership" and "I regret having hurt you". All of which was code for Ray you're a fuck up and why would someone like Benton Fraser ever want you?

Plus, damn it, he didn't want Fraser to be sorry for going down on him.

"I am not sorry for--" Fraser flushed, and Ray almost smiled. "--performing the act of fellatio upon you, Ray."

Leave it to Fraser to make a blow job sound like something from health class, Ray thought as he rolled his eyes. "Then what are you sorry for, Frase?" Ray asked and studied Fraser's boots. The damn things were spotless as always.

Ray jumped back slightly, colliding with the outer corner of the kitchen counter, when Fraser's strong fingers lifted his chin. "What would you like me to be sorry for, Ray?"

"I--you--" Ray swallowed hard and jerked his chin away from Fraser's calloused touch. "You didn't follow the script." He ducked his chin against his chest, bracing his hands on the counter behind him.

"I know. I'm sorry." Fraser's hand rested on Ray's shoulder and even that seemed like a invasion to Ray. Was Fraser trying to kill him?

Ray rolled his shoulders trying to knock away Fraser's hand without having to touch him. "You--you acted--you sounded like you meant all that shit you said, Fraser!" Ray voice cracked and sounded way too loud in his own ears. "You looked at me like I was scum, something even you didn't want to put in your mouth twice." He lifted his chin, folding his arms across his chest and tucked his hands under his arms defensively. Ray's left hand was sticky from something on the counter, and he rubbed it nervously against the cotton of his shirt. He looked for anything but Fraser to look at and when the hell had that rubber duck gotten in his sink?

Fraser stepped further in Ray's personal space, seemingly larger than normal. "Ah."

Ray exploded, from stillness to movement in a instant. His hands gestured wildly as he pushed himself right up into Fraser's face. Ray felt his whole body hum, could feel the urge to strike out building his arm as he rocked up onto the balls of his feet. "What the fuck does that mean? Ah? I can't believe you--"

For a moment Ray though Fraser might--well, he wasn't sure what Fraser might do, but it sure as hell wasn't what he did. Ray's flow of words was stopped firmly by Fraser's mouth pressing over his. An almost gentle soft lipped kiss that felt off compared to Ray's half open teeth bared mouth.

A pity kiss. Great, that's all he needed. Ray shoved away at Fraser's shoulder, but he was held in place by Fraser's grip on his hips. He could feel Fraser's fingers digging in right into the bruises left from the last time he'd held Ray's hips. That tongue of Fraser's that he put everywhere was stroking Ray's lips and teeth, coaxing his teeth to part and let Fraser in.

Ray sagged against Fraser with a groan letting the tongue pass his teeth. He couldn't keep fighting, not with Fraser's hands sliding around to the small of his back. Not when Fraser's other hand and stroking his jaw. This was too close to what he'd wanted for so long.

"I was jealous. I am sorry, Ray," Fraser was saying as the kiss broke apart. "I allowed my personal feelings for you to interfere with my duty."

He still didn't want to talk, Ray found, and wrapped his fingers in Fraser's soft dark hair to pull Fraser's mouth back to his, "Talk later, more kissing."

For once Fraser didn't argue and made a noise that wasn't at all Mountie like.

We'll talk later, Ray promised himself, as Fraser's hand slipped under his shirt and the other made friends with the arch of his shoulder.

Much later.