Author's Notes: Beta: Shrewreader and Miriel
A/N: Much thanks to Shrew and Mir who are probably ready to kill me. (Stay tunes for notes at the end of the story)
sequel to: http://www.squidge.org/dsa/archive/16/traceevidence2.html

Story Notes: Rating: PG-13
Characters: RayK/Turnbull (URS), Fraser
Word count: 1k+
Summary: In which Fraser ditches Ray for a penguin, and Turnbull does some work with prints.

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

Ray sauntered into Fraser's office about six o'clock on a Friday. "Hey, Frase. Ready for some dinner?" Ray asked. He leaned against the door jam to watch Fraser at his desk.

Fraser looked up and cleared his throat. Then he rubbed his eyebrow while he tugged on his ear. It screamed, `bad sign' at Ray. "I'm sorry, Ray, but I'm afraid I already have plans for the weekend."

Ray's heart dropped and it took some effort to smile. "Got a hot date, huh?" He hoped Fraser would shake his head and say something about the Ice Queen.

The blush that spread across Fraser's face made Ray felt as cold as one of Abba's ice blocks. "Not so much in a manner of speaking."

Ray walked further into the room and perched on the edge of Fraser's desk. "So it is a date. Is she cute? Does she have a sister?"

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. "It isn't a date. Dr. Jackson and I are simply discussing Abba over dinner." Fraser protested as he stacked the papers in front of him precisely.

Ray's body relaxed, just a work thing. That he could deal with. "Wait, you're spending your Friday night talking about that damn penguin?" Ray shook his head "You're hopeless, Fraser."

"Casey happens to be the Chicago Zoo's expert on penguins and artic birds." Fraser took papers off the pile one by one.

Ray smirked despite the twinge of jealously. "Casey, huh? And it's not a date?" He reached over a patted Fraser's shoulder. "Have fun, Benton-buddy. Don't do anything I wouldn't."

Fraser smiled at his friend. "That leaves a good deal of open territory, Ray."

"You'll do fine. Wide open spaces are your thing." Ray laughed. "I'll pick you up to watch the hockey game tomorrow."

"Of course, Ray. Enjoy your own evening." Fraser said sincerely.

Ray wasn't sure how he'd enjoy his evening with Fraser out on a date. His shoulders slumped and head down, Ray walked back to the main foyer. Turnbull stood by the receptionist desk, switching the phones over for the night.

Turnbull was a completely different kettle of fish. Ray quickly decided he needed some time away from Fraser's if he was using the phrase `kettle of fish' in his own mind. That or stop hanging around with the penguin and wolf.

Still, Turnbull had been at the back of his mind for some time. Ray would never admit to a single living soul that sometimes, just sometimes, when he'd touch himself imaging Fraser, it would be Turnbull instead. The younger man would hold him down. Turnbull would make Ray wait for it, beg for it.

With a hard swallow, Ray looked away from Turnbull.

"Something the matter, Detective?" Turnbull asked. Ray barely stopped from jumping.

"Call me Ray, Turnbull. I've asked you to before." Ray told him.

Turnbull's mouth curved upwards, but not quite into a smile. "Then perhaps you will call me by my name?"

"Renfield?" Ray asked. He made a face despite himself. "Can I just call you Ren or Rennie?"

That seemed to be exactly the right thing to say, because Turnbull's smile lit up like a halogen bulb. "That would be fine, Ray."

Ray nodded as he watched Turnbull's long fingers twist and turn the Stetson. Ray remembered how those fingers felt on his shoulders. "Good. Greatness. Guess I'll see you Monday, Ren."

Ren arched an eyebrow. "Aren't you going out with Constable Fraser?" He looked surprised and maybe a little relieved. At least, Ray thought Ren looked relieved, because otherwise he'd call the look smug.

"Nah, he's got a not-date with some penguin doctor. He'd better be careful or Dief will get jealous." Ray muttered, with a shrug.

Ren looked at his boots.

Ray wondered what he'd look like in just the boots.

"I do not think Diefenbaker has any cause to be jealous." Ren said after a long pause. "His place in both the Constable's heart and life are most assured." He raised his blue eyes to look directly at Ray.

"He can still get jealous if that's not the place he wants to have." Ray said softly. He looked away from Ren's gaze and shoved his hands into his pockets. Ray turned to walk away and out the door.

Ray was stopped when a large hand with a calloused palm rested on the side of his neck and long tapered fingers slid over the back of Ray's neck. He gasped softly. "I think he would find there are others who would welcome him to any place he wished to take." Ren's voice was a hot breath against Ray's skin.

Ray wondered why he didn't notice Ren stepping towards his side. "Think so?" It took effort not to lean into the touch. Ren's fingers stroked lightly against the grain of the fine hairs on Ray's neck.

"Are you free for dinner, Ray?" Ren asked instead of answering. The warmth of his hand seeped into Ray's skin. It stoked a fire Ray didn't realize had gone out. Maybe it was the friction of wool against bare skin.

With a slight turn of his head, Ray looked at Ren. "You asking?" Ren's fingers stroked the spot where Ray's spine met the neck. Ren had a trigger callous and two other calluses Ray didn't recognize.

Ren smiled fondly, his teeth seemingly perfect and white. Ray wondered if Ren's teeth would feel sharp or blunted under his tongue.

Ray rolled his head to one side revealing the long curve of his neck. One of Ren's long fingers touched Ray's pulse point. Ray's legs buckled slightly and Ren caught him by his belt. The wool of Ren's Serge scratched at Ray's bare arm.

"I believe I just did, Ray." Ren's fingers tapped out a rhythm on Ray's neck that made his body want to dance. Ren's thumb brushed just under his collar. "I wonder how many prints I could lift off your skin." Ren murmured the words practically onto Ray's skin.

Ren let go of Ray's belt, his fingers `accidentally' brushed over Ray's fly. "Can't lift print off skin." Ray managed to get out between gritted teeth. He refused to start begging in the Consulate foyer.

"Super glue fuming." Ren's leg brushed against Ray's thigh.

Ray made a mental note to grill someone, anyone for details later. Much later, like when his blood made its way back to his brain.

"Dinner, Ray?" Ren asked.

Ray nodded, he forgotten that a touch could get him so worked up. How such an `innocent' touch could rev his motor. Stella had tormented him for weeks in high school that way. "Sure, dinner. Greatness." He'd agree to almost anything right now.

Ren's slid his fingers away. He trailed them down Ray's spine then ghosted over the tail bone. Just the heel of Ren's hand remained pressing down for a brief moment, before Ren took even that away. Ray shivered and bit his bottom lip. "If you don't mind stopping by my apartment first, I know a very good Japanese restaurant nearby." Ren told him.

It occurred to Ray that he'd never seem Ren in normal clothing. When he thought of Ren, the man was in either in uniform or naked. Ray preferred the naked view. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Wonderful." Ren's hand stroked over his lower back as if rewarding Ray.

Ray led the way out to the GTO and wondered if Ren would leave a few more latent prints on him.

Note: The process of super glue fuming has been around for roughly the past two decades, though it became heavy use in the states during the 90s. While the process was in some use before 97 by evidence teams and forensics detectives, it wasn't common knowledge. Detective and police journals started publishing about this process around 97-98. Ray's a good detective but it's doubtful he'd know every new method of evidence collecting.