Author's Website: http://www.mrks.org/~viridian/

Disclaimer: All things _due South_ belong to Alliance no matter how much I want Ray K to belong to me. No infringement intended. Suing me would be a waste of time since I have nothing that has any monetary value. Absolutely nothing. It makes me sad to think about it. Besides, I'd just kick you in the head.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes: Once again, it's based off of the way Fraser and Turnbull acted like a unified force for weirdness in "Asylum."

When Fraser called to tell me that he and Turnbull "urgently" needed me to get to the consulate, I jumped in my car and went. When my Mounties needed me, I always came a'running. Of course, with those two I came a lot of other ways too. But my point was that I had no idea what their emergency was.

If someone had taken the diplomats hostage, Fraser either would have asked me or slipped a code phrase in asking me to bring the whole 27th in for a rescue. But he didn't. Calling everybody else in when I had no idea what was going on might not be a good idea.

Me and my gun taking the lay of the land would have to be good enough for now.

I parked around the block and came up walking all casual like. The place looked normal from the outside, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. I was pondering whether I should sneak in or bust through the door, gun in hand, commando-style, when the door opened and Fraser motioned me in. I bounded up the front steps as quietly as I could, but my silence got wrecked when I yelped as Fraser grabbed my arm and yanked me inside.

Fraser had me backed up against the wall with his hand over my mouth. When he leaned in close I could smell alcohol on his breath. What the hell? I also felt his erection against my leg.

That diplomats' party sounded much more raucous than I expected, but not in a frightened, terrorists-are-here way. I tried to put the pieces together until they made sense.

Fraser's eyes looked way too bright as he whispered, "Thank you, Ray, for your promptness, silence, and discretion. Soon I hope to thank you for your assistance as well. I'll show you our problem."

I nodded. He yanked. I managed to stay quiet as he pulled me at great speed toward the queen's bedroom. He quickly locked the door behind us. Once my eyes got used to the dimness, I realized that Turnbull was undressing. He had the tunic and boots off and the suspenders down. He stopped unfastening his fly when he noticed me.

"Ray!" He knocked me down like he was some kind of exuberant puppy. Okay, an over six foot nearly 200-pound puppy.

Pinned to the carpet, straddled by a nearly undressed Mountie, head reeling from smacking the floor, I wondered if maybe Fraser's "urgent" thing was simple horniness after all. It seemed out of character, but it wasn't like I minded.

"Thank you, Ray. You have no idea how much this means to me." As Turnbull kissed me, I caught the taste of alcohol. Scotch, maybe. "My honor...." He kissed and rubbed against me pretty thoroughly to express his relief and gratitude.

"Renfield," Fraser said in his stern, pay-attention voice, but Turnbull was far more interested in exploring my ear with his tongue. "Renfield." Turnbull's humping continued, and I was close to getting off here. Fraser grabbed the back of Turnbull's Henley and pulled up, not moving Turnbull at all but at least getting his attention. "I haven't apprised Ray of the situation yet."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Turnbull removed himself from my rumpled and on-the-edge person. Dammit.

"What situation?" I asked, trying to keep the harshness out of my voice. I'd been that close....

"Our guests got Ren drunk."

Direct and to the point. Completely not the usual. Which probably meant that they'd gotten Fraser drunk too. "I thought this was a tea party."

"It turns out that even the tea was rather liberally dosed."

"Couldn't you guys say you were on duty?"

Turnbull looked mournful. "We did, but the inspector informed us that this would be part of our duty for tonight. At that point she was rather gone herself."

"How much did you have that you got drunk?"

"Not much really. I'm afraid that I have no head for liquor."

"But you're huge!"

"Why thank you, Ray."

"That too, but I meant you have that body mass thing working for you."

"Whys and wherefores can't do much for us right now," Fraser said. "The point is that Ren is incapacitated."

"He looks capacitated to me. Kinda giddy, but I think he could pass if everybody's hitting the sauce."

"I worry that he might be a little too... accommodating in this state."

That hit me hard. Fucking diplomats trying to take advantage of my Mounties? "What about you?"

"I'm not drunk." While he swayed a little and his eyes had that too bright, tipsy-but-happy-to-be-on-life's-merry-go-round look in them.

Right. "What can I do?"

"The gathering is rather inebriated, but I think that they won't notice a substitution so long as there are two Mounties."

"Whoa. Me?"

Turnbull came up behind me and put his arms around me. "You've done it before."

"Not in front of the Ice Queen." Wait a minute. "Hey, there aren't any Mounties in there now."

"I told them we had to go for the kitchen for something, but we can't hide in here forever," Fraser said.

"No one will notice the difference between me and Turnbull? Are you blind?" Or just drunk.

"I don't think they'll mind so long as they see a pleasing face."

Wow. My view of this party just kept getting uglier and uglier.

"Please, Ray," Turnbull whispered into my ear. "Bad enough that I have to abandon my post from my own ill judgment, but--"

He wouldn't feel so bad if he found a sub to put in. It would be less like he was abandoning things. "Okay, I'll do it. I don't know how well I'll do...."

"Oh, thank you, Ray!" Turnbull gave me a sloppy kiss, then let go and went back to undressing.

Fraser stood next to me and leaned against me a bit. "You have a good heart, Ray."

And blue balls and a head full of rage at the bastards who did this to my pack. "Yeah, well, I'm a good guy. At least I'll be able to hide a little under the hat, like last time."

"Ray, you could never wear the hat indoors."

"What? Fraser, there's no way people are going to look at this face and the gravity-defying tuft of hair and think I belong here!"

He rubbed his nose into my neck in what was probably supposed to be a comforting way. "Everything is going to be fine. I have faith."

It felt kind of nice. "Hell, soon as I open my mouth...."

"I have great faith in you. You've done undercover work before. I'll also try to run interference for you when I can."

I jumped into gunfire for this guy, so I guessed I could handle a drunken tea party. Shaking my head and swallowing down my nerves, I started to strip.

When Turnbull finished, he presented his uniform to Fraser in a neat pile, and Fraser started to dress me in it. Sometimes he had to smack Turnbull's less-than-helpful hands away, to my relief. I was already dying here without all the stroking. Not even the sight of two tipsy Mounties coming at me with sharp pins got rid of my erection. Always knew I was a danger junkie.

It didn't help that the damned uniform smelled of wool, the lime-scented soap Turnbull used, and very faintly of his sweat. I only ever got close enough to his uniform to smell it when we were getting our groove on, and my dick was firmly Pavlovian.

Turnbull supervised from a slight distance. "Ben?"

"Yes?"

"His erection will ruin the line of the jodhpurs. May I fix that without getting smacked away?"

Oh God. Fraser got a wicked look in his eyes, then turned away and said, "Please do."

And Turnbull was on his knees with my cock in his mouth. That fast. Amazing grace for somebody as soused as he was. Accommodating? You could call him that. I tried to bite back my whimpers at how perfectly hot and wet and close his mouth felt around me. He purred as my sex-clumsy fingers tried to tangle themselves in his short hair.

My dick poking out of the ridiculous pumpkin pants with Turnbull's head attached to it was just indescribably hot. Probably because me getting some while wearing these pants, suspenders, and the unfastened red, red tunic was so wrong, but still....

Fraser stood behind me, one arm around me to pull me in and support me against him, the side of his face rubbing into my hair, as he crooned, "You're so very good, Ray." His other hand was at the side of my face, so I tongued two of his fingers until he figured out what I wanted. I would have said, but I was kind of post-verbal at the moment. Sucking on his fingers stopped some of the noise I had to make from coming out.

Fraser was hard against me and panting a little, gasping our names. Whiskey dick didn't seem to be a problem.

Turnbull worked me hard with his tongue and nibbling teeth, but for some reason I couldn't come no matter how badly I wanted to. What, I had performance anxiety? He looked up at me, all adoring, then deep-throated me. I finally came, and Fraser was damned lucky I didn't bite his fingertips off doing it.

I felt kind of limp, so I leaned back against Fraser, who seemed to be suffering. "I can't," he was saying. "I can't. Not now, not like this."

Not in his uniform pants, not in the queen's bedroom? He was thinking of the mess, wasn't he?

I reached under his tunic and undid his pants. He felt wet and ready in my hand. Once I pulled his dick free and clear of all that wool, Turnbull was right there, mouth ready and latched on. Really accommodating. Fraser had no trouble coming at all.

Turnbull had this superior but affectionate expression on his face as he looked down at me and Fraser lying Jell-O-like on the queen's bed, trying to find the strength to move. "Did you get anything out of it?" I asked. Moving my head a little showed me that his boxers were soaked.

"I didn't need any help. One light touch finished me."

"I'll make it up to you later."

"I'll hold you to that. Thank you."

When Fraser recovered, the two of them manipulated my limp body around to get the uniform fastened up. Their pins only drew blood three times. The boots may even have been easier with me lying down like this. I levered myself up in time to get the finishing touches on.

Their eyes just about gleamed with lust at the sight of me in Turnbull's adjusted uniform, but Fraser only smiled and said, "You'll do. Come along, Constable."

Certain aspects of the Mountie way became clear to me as I suffered through that party. The tunic forced me to stand utterly straight. Goodbye to the slouch I'd had since I shot up five inches in two months at the age of 15. I thanked God for the tunic's length and stiff thickness, because it made it harder for people to pinch my ass without being obvious and slow about it. I could shift and pretend it never happened. Maybe Fraser refused to carry a gun because he secretly had fantasies like mine, which currently involved shooting these people dead. And being blank and clueless got me through some of the more obnoxious diplomats. Sex? Never heard of it, much less knew what it was. Weirdly enough, the tight collar made watching my tongue easier, like a reminder that I should breathe instead of talk. Politeness even let me get some subtle digs in.

Passive-aggression for survival.

They were more interested in making passes at me and having me listen than in listening to me talk, but I managed to sound close to Canadian anyway for the few times they wanted me to speak. Made an effort to drop a bit of the nasal thing and shift my vowel sounds around. It was good enough for these people.

I was doing my persona thing, like I did for undercover. Trying to actually be the Mountie, instead of pretending to be the Mountie. I had people depending on me getting through to the end.

But it was hard when I had Fraser smoldering at me from across the room. I felt his eyes on my body like summer heat. Man was so seriously getting off on me being in the uniform. Or maybe on me being polite to people I'd rather kill. Or both. He was actually stripping me with his eyes. Okay, maybe he left the serge on me, but still.

Oh, shit. Ice Queen at 12 o'clock. I managed to avoid her for about 15 minutes without making it obvious that I was avoiding her, but eventually she caught up and had me hemmed in against a wall. "You're not one of mine," she said, but she didn't sound totally certain. In fact, she looked so confused that I almost felt bad for her until I remembered that she got my guys into this.

Think. WWMMBD: What Would My Mountie Boys Do? Oh, got it. "Yes, sir," I answered.

I watched her pickled brain overheat as she tried to figure out if my "yes, sir" was agreement or me responding to her presence or what. My Fraser had this kind of cat-and-mouse game down to an art, and I'd been taking notes. I stood there blank-faced, ramrod-straight, the very picture of stick-up-my-ass, noble, clueless Mountie fortitude. I tried not to sweat, the way they managed not to, but all this wool was damned hot. Poor Turnbull would have some time dry cleaning it.

The Ice Queen stood there trying to process for about three minutes before Fraser breezed up. "You've been missed at the other corner of the room, sir. Please come with me." He very carefully didn't look at me.

"Constable Fraser..." She looked like she wanted to ask him who I was but thought it would make her look bad.

As he led her away, he said, "Constable Ray is a valued member of our team, but you know how high-strung he is." Wow, he'd be going straight to Mountie hell for sure.

When Fraser glanced back at me for three seconds as they walked away, I gave thanks that the red tunic was so long. Didn't need any diplomatic anybody here thinking that I sported wood for them.

I wanted a private room and my guys so bad, and it got worse every time Fraser gave me that "I love you, I'm feeling major gratitude, and I want to lick every millimeter of your body" look. Which he kept doing.

My two Mounties. It felt kind of weird to me sometimes to call them by their last names when we were involved, but "Ben" and "Ren" were too cutesy together, and I couldn't think of "Renfield" without remembering the guy who ate rats and bugs in _Dracula_. And they were too polite to specify what they wanted me to call each of them, even though I'd asked. Many times. Without marching orders, it wouldn't have felt fair to use a nickname for one and a whole name or last name for the other, so....

Besides, I said "Fraser" and "Turnbull" differently when we were on the job.

I got through the party by thinking about stuff like that. I also did it by focusing on my suffering and persona, which were starting to look like one and the same. How did they stand it?

Finally Fraser and I escorted all the guests out, with me watching carefully to see what he was doing and saying so I could do the same. The Ice Queen left with some guy from Italy, which meant there was nobody at the consulate anymore but us Mounties. While Fraser locked the front doors, I found myself standing in the at ease position. Damned uniform. I was dying to slouch. I took a bit of Scotch to try to loosen the tight, tangled knot of nerves the night had turned me into.

I didn't even see Fraser move before he plastered himself against me, all hungry mouth and insistent hands. Very "I claim this Chicago cop in the name of drunken Canadian lust."

"Sir, were you going to come tell me it was over?" Turnbull asked from the stairs. He wore flannel 'jammies with little wolves on them.

Fraser blushed a little bit, then put his arm over my shoulders, pulling me in close, and turned us so we faced Turnbull. "I apologize. My enthusiasm overwhelmed me. Ray gave such an excellent performance." He leaned a little so the side of his head rubbed mine affectionately, mussing his hair. Mine came pre-mussed. "Say something for Ren, please, Ray?"

"Hunh?" I asked, since he wasn't being terribly clear and I didn't have much blood running to my brain.

"Your Canadian impression, Ray."

At least he didn't seem to be offended. "What would you like me to say, sir?" I asked in my best full-out version, weird vowels and no nasal.

Bright-eyed and smiling, Turnbull clapped like an excited kid. "Very good, Ray. Are you satisfied, Benton?"

"What?" I asked.

Fraser held and snuggled me close like I was his favorite teddy bear. "I've wondered what your voice really sounded like for some time now."

"'Really' sounded like?" When did I become a parrot?

"Without the nasal tones your accent gives it. Without, it's like fur and shadows. Lovely."

"Or fine-grained sandpaper," Turnbull added as he approached.

"Yes, very like."

"Whoa," I said as I tried to break free of Fraser's grip. Unsuccessfully. Maybe I was being oversensitive or something, but I didn't like this at all. "This is my voice. What it really sounds like. If you think it's ugly, I'm sorry, but it's my voice. That Canadian thing is my voice in a disguise. It's not real."

They looked at each other, then back at me like I'd started talking in Swahili. They didn't get it, and I didn't know if they didn't because I wasn't explaining well or because most of their brain cells were lying under a few gallons of booze.

My "real" voice? And Fraser so hot at the sight of me in Mountie drag, standing straight and being killingly polite? Wasn't me they were getting excited over at all.

I could be as kinky as the next guy, and I loved toys, but I never got role-playing. I did it as a job, so why would I want to bring it into the bedroom? I'd changed myself over for people in the past, and it never ended well, so I started doing the "this is who I am; like it or lump it" spiel up front. Better I found out if me being me would work at the beginning.

But these guys got to know the me playing Ray Vecchio, and now they wanted me to--

Fraser traced my eyebrow soothingly, murmuring, "Ray, Ray, Ray," while Turnbull had me in a big hug and said, "We like all of your voices."

"I didn't mean to suggest anything, Ray," Fraser breathed into my ear. "And I know you find our uniforms sexy when they're on us...."

"And as they're coming off of us," Turnbull added.

No way I was going to just forget what they'd said. Nope. But Turnbull held me tight, ran his hand through my hair, kissed me thoroughly, and kept murmuring, "Dreadfully sorry to upset you, Ray," against my mouth, while Fraser did the random stroking thing. Okay. I'd let them try to make it up to me, then wallop them with it when they were sober. No sense trying to talk sense to drunk people anyway.

Besides, I needed somebody to help get me out of this straitjacket of a uniform anyway.

Turnbull's flannel 'jammies didn't feel erotic soft under my clutching fingers, but they did feel comfy soft. Comfy soft like a winter Saturday morning when you can stay under the warm covers. As he pressed himself against me, humping me a bit, I fixed that scene to a Saturday morning under the warm covers with willing company.

I missed Fraser's hands and presence so I managed to look behind me a bit to try to find him. Watching us, he sat on the desk, legs parted, with this dreamy look on his face as his idly stroked himself through his jodhpurs.

"Yer not getting involved?" I asked.

"I'm not as repentant as Renfield is."

That steamed me. "You should be."

"I shall mend my ways then. Turnbull?"

Turnbull suddenly pushed me back until I ran up against Fraser's body, with his hard-on saying hello first. Fraser's teeth nipping at my ear and his hand suggestively stroking my lanyard made a nice welcome wagon. "You can be such a brat," I said to distract myself. Bastard kept working that spot on my ear lobe....

"You're the only one who ever complains of that, Ray."

"Then I guess I'll have to do a damned good job since I'm all on my ownsome."

Fraser hooked his legs around me and pressed himself up hard against my ass. "I'd never expect you to give anything less than your best."

"Well, good."

Meanwhile, Turnbull hummed a jaunty tune as he unbuckled and undid all of the uniform's belts and straps and doodads and shit, occasionally muttering a stern, chiding "Sir" when Fraser's roaming hands got in his way. Me, I was too busy trying not to melt under all the stroking and ear-fucking to do any stern chiding. Fraser should register his tongue as a deadly weapon, I swear. Besides, having their focus all on me, me, me always made me hotter than hell.

I felt light-headed, buzzed, partly from what they were doing to me, the things they were doing to me, but also from that hit of Scotch. Hadn't eaten before I got here to take care of their emergency and hadn't taken a bite while on Mountie duty. I felt good, though, so I couldn't complain. Well, I could complain but shouldn't.

Once Turnbull had my borrowed tunic and jodhpurs open, I started to lose the who and what of the goings-on as I lost myself under the hands and mouths and too-much-ness. Turnbull was smelling me and obviously getting off on it. Well, it was his uniform, making it semi-kinky that I stood here in it. I could only keep my eyes open about halfway--Turnbull often admired the "heavy-lidded" look he claimed I got during sex--but up this close I could see that his 'jammies had snowdrifts on them too. 'Jammie wolves running through 'jammie snow, and was I going off on an acid trip just from this? Then again, I had the side of my face pressed against Fraser's neck, so maybe I was getting an alcohol hit off his skin.

But I had a promise to keep. "Turnbull, earlier... I... said I'd make it up to you. What do you want?"

His eyes lit right up, which gave me the warmest feeling. He leaned in close and whispered hotly, "I want you to fuck me against the desk."

I bucked against him at the thought. "This desk. The front reception desk." The one I saw immediately every time I entered the consulate, the one Turnbull sat at.

"Welcome to Canada," he said with a cheerfully twisted grin.

"I'm game." Though walking in here to see Fraser would never be the same again afterward.

Turnbull backed off, and Fraser let me go, giving me a little forward push. As Turnbull stripped, Fraser took two tubes of lube and condoms out of the back of the bottom desk drawer. Did I want to know? Not sure. Anyway, Turnbull just showed me that he hadn't been wearing any underwear under his flannel. God, he had a great ass and thighs, tight yet meaty. They both did. Fraser watched me watch Turnbull as he started to unfasten his uniform, all Mr. In-Control. Like that cool lasted long in these situations.

It didn't take me anywhere as much time.

But our troika worked this way. He often sat back cool and kind of above it all, while cheerily enthusiastic Turnbull and wired, up-for-anything me started getting our freak on. Thing is, he devoured us with his eyes the whole time until, I guess, the temptation just became too much.

While I quickly took off the rest of my borrowed uniform--a lot of practice made perfect--Turnbull put his hands down on the desk, scattering papers, and stretched, showing off his ass. Like I needed the show, but I appreciated a good presentation. I planted a few kisses on the small of his back and smiled at the way he wiggled from it, then dropped to my knees--creaky knees, which made me laugh-- and kissed my way down his ass. He twitched and pushed back as I breathed hotly on him a bit first.

Fraser's hand came into frame to drop a tube and condom to the floor near me, part proper preparation and part reminding me that he'd be there watching until he chose to get involved. It was a game. How fast could I get him involved? I never knew, though I tried real hard. Waiting for him, wondering, added an extra spice of anticipation. In the meantime I let Fraser's stare burn into my back and listened to his breathing speed up as I started to slowly tongue-fuck Turnbull, who felt very relaxed to me.

Turnbull groaned my name and shuddered. "Please, Ray, just-- just--"

"You're ready?" I asked with a few very deliberate tongue flicks.

"Yes, oh yes."

I looked back at Fraser over my shoulder, to see him definitely watching, then put the condom and slicked up, taking a few licks of Turnbull to remind him that I was still there. I stood and pressed myself against his back. "You're ready?"

"Yes, yes, please."

I kissed his shoulder, then pushed in, moving smoothly, feeling him take a deep breath. Good, so good. His long "oh" vibrated through me. I took his dick in one hand and his balls in the other and stroked as I started to slowly thrust.

I almost bit my lip as Fraser kissed the top knob of my spine and ran a hand down my ribs. Where was the other-- I felt slick fingers slide in circles around my rim before slipping in and up. Naughty Mountie. Got him. When he hit my sweet spot, I bucked harder into Turnbull, which made a difference even if the invasion had made me soften a bit. I closed my eyes, enjoying the burn and pressure....

"Sir, would you please let Ray get on with it instead of simply distracting him?" Turnbull asked shortly.

"I hardly want to plunge in before he's ready," Fraser retorted as his fingers scissored around inside me.

"Uh, still here, guys," I gasped.

"Sorry, Ray," they chorused.

"Yeah, yeah," I said as I kept humping and stroking Turnbull, who made appreciative sounds. "Maybe you should get on with the main event."

"If you insist," Fraser said as he nibbled my ear.

"Oh, you martyr, you. It's such a chore."

Fraser gripped my dick right at the point where it was buried in Turnbull's ass, which struck me as the hottest thing I'd seen in a while, then rubbed. Had me totally hard and thrusting. "You know what I mean, Ray."

"Want. Your--"

"Yes." His fingers slid out fast, then got replaced just as fast by his cock ramming up hard. I grunted in greedy pleasure. Oh yeah, he knew what I wanted and how I wanted it when I got that tone in my voice. I couldn't think. Hell, I could hardly breathe, with Fraser hard and solid inside me and my cock sheathed in Turnbull's ass. They had me totally, back and front. Then Fraser started to thrust, making it way better, and him thrusting made me thrust, which gave me the totally hot thought that he was using me to fuck Turnbull.

When my hips got into the act again, it took forever to get up any kind of synchronized rhythm, though I sure as hell didn't mind. My ass and cock were very happy, thank you. But eventually we got it, with me even managing to fist Turnbull's cock in the same time, and it was great. Me in the middle of all that slick, smooth skin, feeling their enjoyment in their every thrust and groan, wallowing in the scent of sex and sweat. Turnbull pushing back on to me, and Fraser stroking forward. Fraser saying my name repeatedly in that staccato machine gun way he had, so a guy on overload like I was might start thinking that his nickname actually had multiple syllables all of the same sound. Turnbull shuddering against me and pushing into my hands.

They always touched me like they worshipped me; even at his brattiest Fraser paid homage at the altar of Ray. I returned it. We did this to each other, and they did this to me.

Didn't matter that we were crazy if we were happy at the same time.

Turnbull came first, groaning, tightening his muscles around my cock, throwing his head back against me, making me thrust up all the way. At about the same time Fraser hit it too with his own major thrust that I felt nearly at the back of my throat, whispering I-love-yous into the short hairs on the nape of my neck. In the middle of all this orgasm, I shot off hard and seemingly forever, feeling it in every muscle in my body. Whiteout.

Turnbull ended up slumped on the desk, with me slumped on him and Fraser slumped on me, skin to skin, all still fused. Perfect. I felt weirdly protected.

No way I had a second act in me; I just wanted to sleep with my guys. "Bed?" I asked, voice low and harsh like I'd just run a marathon.

"Mmmm," Turnbull answered, while Fraser breathed for a while, then gasped, "I know just the thing."

I woke up when Turnbull suddenly moaned, "Oh, dear," and clumsily bolted from the room.

Muzzy, I stretched under the covers and snuggled in against Fraser, rubbing my morning wood against him. Good morning. I felt great, warm and loose and achy in that I-got-mine way. Yeah, I was kind of messy, and it tasted like something'd died in my mouth, but why sweat the small stuff?

Loved to touch Fraser. Loved how solid he was. Loved having Turnbull solid against my other side....

Then I heard Turnbull being violently sick, bringing the events of last night back to me. Aftermath time. I kissed Fraser's shoulder blade, then got out of bed to see if I could assist Turnbull in some way. No matter what he'd helped Fraser say about my voice, he sure as hell didn't deserve this. If the Ice Queen came down on them today--well, if she made it in today--I'd be over here to clean her clock permanently. And those bastards last night? I wanted to show them justice, diplomatic immunity or not.

But my guys would never let me.

When I walked out to the bathroom, I realized that we'd shacked up in the queen's bedroom. Oh, they were going to be kicking themselves for sure once their brains went back online.

"Turnbull?" I asked, keeping my voice low and soft.

Every bit as nude as I was, Turnbull hunched miserably over the toilet. "Please don't watch, Ray," Turnbull said.

"Got ya." Wasn't like with Stella, where the gentlemanly thing for me to do would be to hold her hair back.

God, Stella'd been wicked wild in her youth, and how great was it that I could think of that without feeling like my heart had been ripped out?

Anyway, Turnbull didn't have hair that needed to be held back.

I filled a few paper cups of water and left them nearby for him. "I'll be getting my clothes, then taking a shower," I said, still softly and gently. I kept some gear in Fraser's office, so I'd be good. "If you need me just yell." I wanted to touch Turnbull, maybe rub his back a bit, but I didn't know if it would make things worse, so I didn't.

"I doubt that will be possible," he groaned.

Then Fraser came flying in, saw the toilet in use, and put his head over the sink. I hoped the two of them being sick together in the same place didn't set off more vomiting. I was on a bad ferry ride once where people who were nauseous but keeping it down lost it when they got near the bathrooms and all the folks revisiting their lunches.

When Fraser had a free breath, he asked, "Ray, did I do several things last night that I'll be sorry for once I remember them?" He sounded guttural, as if his voice had to be forced up from the bottom of his wobbly gut to get out.

"Oh yeah, several." Real payback could wait a bit, for when they'd finished their tributes to the porcelain gods and felt better, but I could still start putting in a deposit. "Turnbull wanted me to vamoose for a while so he could die in peace. How 'bout you?"

Fraser heaved, then said, "I'd really prefer you didn't see this, yes."

"That's fair." I headed out to get my clothes. Naked. There was something deeply satisfying and naughty about walking through the consulate in the buff. Hopefully, the Ice Queen would call in hungover and give them some time to get themselves together, clean up everything, and hide the evidence.

"Oh dear God, we were sleeping like that in the queen's bedroom," Fraser moaned, and Turnbull made a pained sound of horror.

Oh yeah, the karma train's pulling into the station; get your ticket punched here.

Wait 'til Fraser remembered that he'd been the one who'd suggested it.

**THE END**

More Viridian5 stories can be found in The Green Room version 2.0 at http://www.mrks.org/~viridian/

No-frames but no-frills access available at http://www.mrks.org/~viridian/Viridian_side.htm

Fandoms represented: due South, Hard Core Logo, Twitch City, X-Files, Once a Thief, Andromeda, Angel, the Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie, Two Guys and a Girl (was Two Guys, a Girl and a Pizza Place), X-Men, Doctor Who, Fight Club, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine