Author's Notes: Thanks to purpig21 for her help.

Penguins By sam80853

Fraser didn't even know why he still went into his closet at the Canadian Consulate. It's not like he wouldn't know who took residence there - his father, Robert Fraser, formerly member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, deceased for quite some time yet not willing to rest in peace. Instead Fraser Sen. kept trying to teach his son lessons which he neglected to teach him while he was still alive. But as Fraser knew the line of sanity runs thin in his family with his Uncle Tiberius and his suspicious death, he didn't quite expect to make sense of these lessons. He just came here out of courtesy, really.

So Fraser rubbed his eyebrow when his father started talking about a television report he had seen last night. How he did such a thing was way beyond him but Fraser didn't dare to ask. Perhaps it was better he did not know.

"Penguins are quite fascinating creatures, Son," Bob said, sitting behind his wooden desk not even aware that his son wasn't really listening to him. "These two little fellows refused to catch up with the nice female penguins who where flown in to start a family with them, so the reporter acquainted."

Fraser's head came up in a rush. What was his father talking about?

"Penguins, Dad?" He asked, tugging at his collar in discomfort because his father really might have gone off the deep end now.

"That's what I said, Son, yes," Bob nodded his head, ignoring his son's frown. "As I keep telling you, fascinating creatures, really. They even got hold of some eggs of their fellow female pack mates to pass for a real family."

"Dad?" Fraser tried to sound annoyed but failed, sensing his father might have discovered his secret love for his partner - his male partner - Detective Stanley Raymond Kowalski of the Chicago Police Department and he really didn't want to talk about this particular topic with his deceased father. Or at all.

But his father hadn't finished yet: "They seem to be strong and up for the task at hand," Bob nodded in approval. "Like the Yank," and Fraser stopped breathing for a second, turning awfully pink.

So his father knew or at least suspected. But he could have nothing of it, it was unpromising anyway.

"Ray," and Fraser tried to stop his tongue from coming out to lick his bottom lip - an obvious sign of his nerves - but didn't quite manage, "Ray is not a penguin, Dad!"

"My point exactly," Bob smiled gentle, obviously proud of his son's powers of comprehension.

"That's ...," Fraser didn't even know what to say here to make his father stop talking about things he had no reason talking about. It was Fraser's life or so at least he thought it was.

"The Yank wouldn't want you to steal someone's eggs or babies as might be the case here," and Bob smiled about his own little joke.

"That's plain silly," Fraser croaked, turning his back to his father, reaching for the door.

""He just needs a sign, Son," Bob said and Fraser stepped through the closet door hastily, closing it behind him to hear his father's muted voice again, telling him that a Zoo visit might be in order.

Fraser leaned his back against the closed door behind him, trying to compose himself.

Penguins, really!

He didn't know where his father got the idea that he and Ray ... that Ray might ...

"Constable Fraser?" Turnbull was calling through the closed door to Fraser's tiny office and Fraser rubbed his face, expecting something utterly strange coming from his fellow officer like is often the case with Constable Turnbull - that man really could be a piece of work.

"Please enter," he called, preparing himself for ... whatever Turnbull was about to lay on him this late.

"Thank you kindly, Sir," Turnbull entered, looking ridiculous in a too short Scottish kilt.

"Turnbull..."

"I'm a disgrace of this traditional clothing," Turnbull sighed, looking unhappy and on the verge of tears.

"It's in fact a little too short," Fraser confessed, recognizing that Turnbull has gone for the less traditional kilt in this case, the one the Englishman Thomas Rawlinson had invented in 1725 by cutting off all material above the waist and further tailoring that below what resulted in the skirt-like garment known as the kilt today.

Fraser himself preferred the original one like his ancestor, Sir Simon Fraser, might have worn as he fought for William Wallace at Rosslyn in 1302, defeating the English.

"You have to kneel down while adjusting the lengths," Fraser explained. "Your kilt should hang an inch free of the ground in front of your knee when you kneel down."

"Thank you, Sir," Turnbull started beaming like a Christmas tree. But his smile faded just a second later, making room for a frown. "Sir, do I have to ... do I ...?"

"Certainly not, Turnbull," Fraser rubbed his eyebrow then, knowing very well that anyone who's wearing this particular piece of clothing should ... go all the way. But he would rather not have to keep an eye on Turnbull the entire evening tomorrow to make sure Turnbull has crossed his legs or kept his knees together ... no, thank you kindly!

Turnbull's beam returned when he went back towards the door.

"Ah, Sir..."

"Yes, Turnbull," Fraser could not await to be alone again to organise his thoughts over the topic of his father, Ray and two life sharing penguins.

"I almost forgot to mention ... you see, the kilt problem was rather pressing and I ..."

"Turnbull!"

"Detective Vecchio called an hour ago."

This statement was obviously all Turnbull was willing to share at the matter and Fraser sighed deeply, not knowing how Turnbull even passed his yearly mental test.

"Did Detective Vecchio leave a message?"

"Yes, Sir," Turnbull answered in all honesty. "After stating ... profanity about the Queen Detective Vecchio wanted me to tell you to meet up with him at the Chicago Zoo at exactly 8 o'clock."

Fraser's face went pale.

Why would Ray want to meet him at the Zoo of all places? Perhaps Ray had ... his father ... Fraser's thoughts were racing inside his head.

"Penguins," he whispered, obviously forgetting that Turnbull was still standing in his office.

"Quite correct, Constable," Turnbull started talking again. "Detective Vecchio mentioned penguins in his message and ...," his words stopped then and he looked confused but Fraser heard nothing of it. His ears had gone deaf after Turnbull said Ray and penguins in one sentence.

"But perhaps it was something I heard on the news last night," Turnbull was still frowning while he walked out the door leaving Fraser standing in his office, dumbfounded, heart racing.

8 o'clock.

Penguins.

There was not much time left to meet Ray at the designated time and Fraser had to call a cab to make it, leaving Diefenbaker behind - the half-wolf would probably behave as his origins taught him to at the Zoo so better not take chances, Fraser thought.

He just made it in time to get into the Zoo before the gate closed, shaking his head in disagreement over his friend's decision to meet him after hours in a public place to discuss such personal matters. But Fraser couldn't keep being angry with Ray and them breaking the law by being here at all because Ray ... Ray wanted ... what Fraser wasn't certain about but there had to be a connection between his father's words and their meeting place.

Penguins.

He arrived at the penguin's enclosure, standing in the darkness, waiting and ... shivering. Not out of cold, of course, because it might be winter time in Chicago but growing up in the Territories had taught him cold.

No, he had to admit in being excited. Excited about meeting Ray, thinking that his friend might have mutual feelings, about ... Kissing Ray, touching him. Feel Ray beneath his lips, his hands.

"What are you doin' standin' here like a lamp post?"

Fraser was so caught up in his fantasy that he hadn't even heard Ray's approach. Jumping almost out of his skin, he blushed deeply.

"Ray," Fraser cleared his throat just to get dragged behind bushes at the far side of the penguins.

"Ray..."

"Get down," Ray hissed, stumbling to the ground, taking Fraser with him.

"Ray, what," Fraser was confused over the turn of events.

Clearly this wasn't what he had expected at all, Ray dragging him to the ground - snow-covered by the way - laying half on top of him without making his intentions clear first.

"Ray..."

"Shhhhhhhhh," Ray placed a hand over Fraser mouth to stop him from talking, looking around frantically and suddenly it dawned on Fraser that they were here in pursuit of someone, a malfeasant, and not to confess mutual feelings.

His whole body went limp in disappointment; he had it all wrong - his father, Turnbull.

"Penguins."

"What?" Ray whispered, almost climbing up Fraser's body to get a better view over the bushes and Fraser's face got pressed against Ray's neck. Up close, real close and Fraser couldn't help himself to not take a deep breath, to no take his friend's smell in. But it wasn't just Ray's smell but his own fading scent on Ray and Fraser frowned, his hands coming up, searching under Ray's jacket and discovering one of his Henleys. On Ray.

"Fraser!" Ray almost sounded scandalized while he got his clothes back in place, avoiding Fraser's eyes.

"I was looking for this particular shirt for quite some time now," Fraser whispered, keeping in mind that they might not be alone here after all.

"Yeah, sorry," Ray scratched the back of his neck, obviously in embarrassment of being exposed as a thief.

"I shall hope that it's keeping you," he voice faltered, "warm."

Ray's head rushed up and their eyes locked, the snow starting to melt underneath them from the heat both men radiated.

"Yeah," Ray whispered, getting closer to Fraser, one hand on his friend's face already. "Keepin' me ... warm at night," he said right before he brushed his lips over Fraser's in a brief kiss.

But that's all it took for Fraser to go babbling, this brief touch of Ray's lips on his.

"Penguins," his head was reeling and he didn't even know what he had said to make Ray giggle against his cheek.

"You are watchin' too much TV, Fraser-buddy," Ray laughs huskily before kissing Fraser again. And this time it wasn't brief or ... hesitant. No, it was hot and wet and deep and interrupted by two men approaching from the left side of the penguins.

"Shit," Ray cursed, letting go of Fraser and his talented tongue. "Let's arrest those scumbags and head the party to my place."

"Understood."

And off they went to keep the city of Chicago safe, while starting to share their life like the two brave penguins at the Chicago Zoo.

The End