Disclaimer: Neither Benton Fraser nor Ray Kowalski are mine. I'm merely borrowing them for a spin.

Author's Notes: I took a nap and this story came forth from my subconscious. First due South fic. Unbetaed. Apologies for any and all mistakes. Feedback's cool.

Story Notes: Post-COtW AU Slashfic. Don't read if you don't like m/m pairings. There is some cussin', a fluffy moment or two and a very short crossdressing scene. Everything in bold text indicates a different scene.

Words (the urge to misbehave)

It is a silly prank. Four days into the Quest, he wakes up with the crazy itch to see whether or not Fraser has endless reserves of Inuit and non-Inuit stories. Having no one else to talk to for miles (kilometers, Ray) adds a level of sneakiness to this joke that can keep certain aspects of isolation away while he adapts to the harsher parts of the adventure. Ray would be the first one to admit that he can be a goddamn brat at times.

Encouraged by Ray's hmms and ohs, Fraser goes on and on for hours about migration patterns, not-so-well-known Arctic explorers and magical mukluks. That night, Ray keeps reminding himself to think of Fraser's raspy voice as unsexy. He fails, but the cold temperature keeps him from embarrassing himself in front of his partner.

"Morning, Frase" Ray half-yawns and opens up his eyes once he feels a tap on his right shoulder. Fraser is staring at him. Hard. He points at his notepad.

"Laryngitis, I think" is scribbled in Fraser's curly penmanship.

He sits up and pulls his legs towards his body trying to see how things can be made less shitty. Gathering a handful of courage he looks up at his partner's face and is surprised by how much it hurts to see disappointment beamed back at him.

Ray's insides feel cold as those steel-blue eyes ask him without any fucking words if he is finding this situation particularly funny. He can imagine a thought balloon on top of his head and the words GULP! written in heavy bloc lettering. Ray looks at his feet. "I'm sorry" he whispers. Fraser gets up and steps outside the tent to prepare breakfast.

Apparently some kind of divine power is looking after the two of them right after Fraser wakes up without a voice. Their asses don't freeze or get thrown into crevices or get lost into the blinding snow during the rest of the week.

Ray wants to kick himself as he places a very bundled up and tense Mountie on the sled and starts mushing. Dief helps lots. Out here in nature, something kicks inside the donut-crazy canine and pushes the half-wolf into leading the rest of the dogs. They don't get terribly far or as far as they would have (perhaps) if Ben had been driving.

Fraser doesn't make any effort to communicate with him either through miming or with graceful scribbles in that journal of his other than for the most necessary or important stuff. Ray misses the simple connection between them, but he knows better than to try to force Fraser into forgiving him.

They eat their dinner in complete silence.

It is not until after they retire for the night, when Ray is on his back trying not to sigh with regret, that he feels one of Fraser's hands clasp one of his. He drinks in this small mercy and squeezes his hand as a silent promise not to do any fool-hardy shit until they are back in civilization. Fraser's a compassionate if stubborn individual, Ray thinks. Maybe they'll have to take it one day at a time til Fraser can regain the ability to talk.

A minute, three, then, five go by.

Ray feels the squeeze on his hand and is able to fall asleep. He might not get his ass kicked back to the US after all.

Snow (other places)

Ray hears Fraser talk about Canada (in general) and the Northwest Territories (in particular) with the kind of homesickness very few have written about circa 1900. It doesn't take much effort to see the reverence and the longing to be back in that environment, but Ray doesn't understand its full significance til the whole thing with Muldoon explodes.

Fur trimmed hood around his face and nothing but white snow for miles and miles, Fraser fucking glows. He reminds Ray of a wild flower blooming in spring. Yeah, that has got to be the cheesiest thought he's had in like, ever. But that doesn't make it less true. Fraser equals snow.

Chicago heat has wilted Fraser more than once despite following the 5 P's. Being back in snow-covered Canada is like a very gentle version of revenge.

*****

One night after Ben is assigned to Inuvik and Ray's on his way to officially becoming a Canadian, he dreams of Ben swimming in the ocean of some tropical paradise. Clad in dark red swimming trunks, he smiles. Ben's pale skin with its multiple yet faint scars is covered with some heavy-duty sun block. His eyes shine a vibrant blue as the water splashes against his torso. Ray doesn't want to let go of the dream as the alarm goes off.

His mind drifts to and fro with images of Ben's seasalty skin and hammocks and making out by coconut trees throughout the day as he helps Clarissa get the community center's boxing class ready. There is a slight urge inside of him to take Ben to a completely foreign place like Rio di Janeiro. As he walks into their cabin, he chuckles once he realizes the insanity of his desire because going to Brazil would mean they could end up having to do some type of excursion into the Amazon for a day or two. And Ray's no friend of the piranha.

The idea of him rubbing Ben's back with some type of sunburn aftercare lotion flashes in his mind as he finishes washing the dishes. He wants to get a feel for this idea, this dream of his. The reality is that Ben has little (if any) experience with tropical climates, but that only adds a shot of perversion (his hot Canadian Mountie plus a small beach equals lots of exposed skin and all kinds of groping opportunities) that settles most of his resolve. He actually sits on Ben's lap, after placing the poetry book on the chair's arm.

"Ben."

"Mmm?"

"How much vacation time do you still have?"

"Altogether?"

Ray nods.

"I think about a month give or take."

"Cool."

"Ray?"

"I just..." and now that he has the opening, hesitation is wagging its fingers in front of him, but he buckles down and it all comes out in a rush of words,"...Ikindawannagosomeplacewarm...with you, I mean."

"Ah."

(kisses)

The smile on Ray's face nearly outshines Ben's.

Rebellion (on contradictions)

Once you get to really know Benton "I'm a Mountie" Fraser, you realize he's a rebel. He's a goddamn anarchist. Sure, he's neat and organized and polite and feels the call of duty and honor. However, give him enough leeway and he'll come up with some crazy shit like talking some thug into dropping his gun or trying to politely shame a feared mobster into confessing a misdemeanor. He gets his ya-yas by taking his body and Ray's past anything the Chicago detective had ever seen. Ray knows that Fraser doesn't think of himself as some bad ass type of dude. He just likes to push things a little. Make a dangerous situation even more aggravating...and dangerous.

All manners of Chicago and Canadian psychos have an unspoken vendetta against him, but he refuses to get the necessary paperwork to carry a gun. Whenever he's questioned about it by his co-workers or even the Ice Queen, he looks mighty offended at the idea of bending the law right before sticking his tongue into electrical sockets and tasting gym shoes of course.

Ray knows Ben would never grow to like The Stella. Even after she marries Vecchio. The barely hidden contempt is something that also confuses `Florida Ray'. Ben earns a lot of bonus points, however, when he quietly accepts Ray's bond with the former ADA once Ray makes it crystal clear that Ben has no reason whatsoever to be jealous of his (now non-sexual) relationship with his ex-wife.

He is sure The Stella makes up her mind about her dislike for the Mountie after being very subtly told off by said very well-mannered Mountie right around the second week of their partnership. Ray would have not believed it had he not been present. The thing is that it takes brass ones to go against his ex-wife and end up with minimal scratching. Ben stays focused as he explains how lame it is for her to bitch about Ray's inability to deal with the corpses once they are moved to the morgue. Of course, this is Ben so, he uses prettier words with lots of syllables and he keeps his tone of voice tepid but not friendly.

Ray wants to settle things with Ben during dinner, but some bozo decides that Friday night at the Chinese restaurant they frequent could be a great place to play `madcap hostage situation'. Things turn serious once he opens up his coat and the entire restaurant gets an eyeful of the bomb strapped to the maniac's chest. Good times!

Ben talks the wacko away from doing anything rash by telling him some frou-frou story about the mating habits of the wild tuk-tuk bird of Jakarta.

Huh?

Touch (the basic need)

Things start to unravel the fifth night of the third week after they go off searching for that hand thing. Sometime in the night, Ray rolls onto his right side and his left arm curls over Fraser's upper body. Ray would retrieve said arm except for the fact that Ben's left hand fingers have intertwined with his. He gives into the need to cuddle against the one person who always saw him as `Ray Kowalski: No Longer a Loser' once his divorce from Stella was done and over with.

Upon waking neither says anything other than a quiet `morning'. They unclench hands and go on about the day.

There is no awkward talk about being queer or why now or what does this mean. Ray knows how he feels about Ben (and vice versa), but there's no need to state what they are. Not yet, anyways. They have breakfast before breaking the camp and Ben studies maps and Ray bitches about the cold. He nibbles pemmican as Ben's "HIKE" echo all around him.

After staking the dogs for the night but before zipping up the tent, Ray sees that Fraser has zipped up their sleeping bags together. He's quietly reading "The Brothers Karamazov" by lamplight. Ray nods (so this is it then) and lies down inside the bag. Mere seconds before exhaustion forces him into the kind of deep sleep that only happens when you're really fucking tired, Ray feels Fraser's body pressing against his. Ben's arms go around him, protecting him from the howling wind outside. Surrounded by delicious Fraser-heat, Ray falls asleep thinking they'll kiss in the morning. In another life, perhaps if they were still in Chicago with him doing the Vecchio gig, he would have felt weird about all of this.

Right now, however, it's just perfect. And not only because they are in the fucking Arctic, okay?

Panties (something new and welcomed?)

Ben is finally back from the RCMP conference (or, like Ray calls it the `Ultimate Mountie thingie over at the Mothership'). He's reading "Nana" by the fireplace looking mighty relaxed in jeans and a cream sweater. Mighty tasty too.

Ray goes to their bedroom so that he can hook up Ben's cell phone to the charger.

He finds a dark blue box on top of their bed.

Too small to contain anything other than socks, he is surprised to find a pair of panties. Not any generic pair, mind you, but bikini-style dark purple female undies in a material that reminds him of velvet. His hands hold up the item and something inside of him is mesmerized. This.Is.Decadent. Huh, who would have thought Ben would be into this?

He remembers telling Ben that he's willing to try anything, but he wants to gauge where Ben is coming from.

"Ben, what the fuck is this?" Ray asks with a curious tone of voice as he shows Ben the piece of lingerie. He thinks his Mountie will hem and haw about the item in question. He's expecting Ben to say "Ah" or "Oh, Dear" or something equally quaint and noncommittal followed by some furious blushing action.

He's wrong.

Fraser opens his mouth and looks right at the thermal-clad man in the hallway. "They're for you, Ray," he says with a tender smile and goes back to his book about French courtesans.

Ray nods his head absentmindedly, goes back into the bedroom and his mind begins to go `round for a moment. Once he stops thinking about the weirdness and so very in-your-face aspect of this present, Ray remembers the many delicious times he has buried his cock deep inside Ben and the occasions he's felt his, ahem, husband's tongue in places he had never thought of. Taking into consideration the creepy, scary, sick, stupid shit that can be labeled kinky, wearing chick's undies ranks somewhere between mild and interesting. He puts the plum undergarment in the dresser and then, he waits.

Making love later that night, Ray gives up on the intention of thrusting into Ben with any rhythm other than fast and rough. The world feels like it's spinning too fast. It feels so good that it almost hurts. Ben is panting; his legs are around Ray's hips helping him plunge even deeper and harder. He knows that he's touching that p-something gland thing Ben told him about once before shoving his lubed fingers inside Ray and teaching him about its pleasures by showing, not by telling.

Ben grips Ray's cock with his muscles. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He's on the edge that never lasts long enough between coming and the building up. Ray lowers himself until he's almost but not quite on top of Ben. He looks sweaty and disheveled and finds so much love in those blue eyes, so much fucking love...The friction between them becomes too much and before he knows it, the orgasm is forcing him to take deep breaths lest he strokes out on top of Ben. He's growing softer so, he pushes himself up and slides a hand between them. Ben can barely talk. He moans loud because this is something he though he would never have. It only takes a couple of up and down strokes of Ben's cock before milky-white ejaculate is splashed on his stomach.

Afterwards, Ray wonders if someone has replaced his bones with marshmallow fluff. Ben looks raunchy and spent. Soon, Ray relaxes into Ben's arms and he is amused by the mixed smells of their sweat and come.

As they fall asleep, after a hasty clean up courtesy of a handful of tissues, Ray tells himself that he wants to make Ben wait a little before giving this whole undie business a whirl. Routine, after all, is the silent killer.

A couple of weeks go by and Ben calls him from the Depot. They found the missing girl after a five day search that took the rescue team through enough territory as to remind Ben of their Quest days. He tells Ray how much he thought of their home and of him in their bed. Ray knows that Ben is rarely if ever as syrupy as he is which is totally cool because no one can stand a pair of saps. He tells his Mountie that dinner will be waiting and that he loves him before getting on with the panty raid.

It's been five long days and nights of thinking about Ben's pale body and firm cock and kisses and hands. He's jerked off plenty as he remembers the feel of the curves of Ben's ass, the musky taste of his cock, the crinkle in his eyes when Ray `convinces' him to dance with him to early Go-Go's albums.

He has only wore them once before. On the second night after Ben tells him he has to help some folks look for the missing teen. He likes how soft the panties feel, gets about half-hard, but soon grows melancholic as he lies down on their bed and he thinks of Ben.

He takes them off and decides to play with his cock while taking a late night shower.

Ray is wearing the panties tonight. Ben is mere minutes away and everything feels electric. There is no question he wants to show Ben that he can roll with the `alternative' scene. Hell, the idea of thinking of himself as gay, bi or even `queer' is dormant, practically non-existent, until he meets Ben and feels a tug inside.

He only manages to get Ben's coat off and move to the couch before Ben pulls the flannel shirt apart and buttons scatter everywhere. He's kissing Ray and telling him how much this means to him and how much he thinks of him all at the same time. There is love with a touch of frenzy in every touch of their lips as if he thought he would never see him again. He needs Ray, has to devour him. Ray's cock grows hard from the moment Ben starts to tongue-fuck him. The feather-like softness of the material surrounding his family jewels adds a peculiar sensation of barely there that drives Ray even crazier. He feels Ben's hands everywhere and tongue circling his nipples and Ray, he just wants all of this, he wants to be taken.

Before long, Ben pulls Ray's pants down and can't help but groan with anticipation as the purple undies make their debut. Mouth agape, Ben's eyes are shiny. "Hey," Ray says in a husky tone as he takes Ben's face between his hands, "I'm totally digging it, okay?" Ben nods, that naughty pink tongue slicking his lips as he looks up at Ray with an intensity that is equal parts affection and primal drive. He slides his body downwards until he is kneeling between Ray's legs and pulls the jeans all the way south to the ankles. Ben leans towards the crotch and rubs his face against Ray's hardness before he mouths the fabric over his cock. There is such joy in his face as to make something inside Ray explode with happiness in response.

Between Ben's attentions after what felt like almost an eternity since they were last together and the overall kinkiness of the moment, Ray doesn't think he can hold off for long. Slowly, very, very slowly Ben pulls the cock out of its delicate confines and tongues the glossy head and underneath it before taking him deep down his throat. All that wet heat around him all at once keeps pushing Ray into wave after wave of pleasure. "Ben, Ben, BEN!" Everything fades to white as Ray spurts and Ben, sweet and wicked Ben, swallows each drop of come.

"Mmm, welcome home."

Ben gets up and kisses a path from his neck to Ray's left ear. "I'm going to shower."

Sizing by the tent in front of Ben's pants, Ray knows he's delaying the own pleasure. This was the appetizer, he thinks as he watches the Mountie walk with some difficulty towards the bathroom.

He tucks himself back into the damp panties and remains seated because he knows it is going to a long night of bites and "I love yous" and "yeahs" and "fuck me harder, please."

Ray hears the bathroom door open a bit. Ben's head leans out. The look in those eyes is pure heat and adoration. "Don't....err. Don't take them off yet, please." The door closes.

Ray smiles, gets up, pulls up his pants and moves towards the kitchen to heat up the stew.