Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters and I'm not making any money from
this story.

Author's Notes:

Story Notes: This fic is set after season 4, but no one has moved on (They managed to get
the bullet out of Ray Vecchio, btw.) Also, Thatcher's hair has grown out again. And
seeing as I didn't see the 'kiss' in COTW (I saw the British version.sigh) that kiss
didn't happen in this fic universe.

Tuesday Morning

A sharp rap on Inspector Meg Thatcher's office door caught her attention from her laptop. "Enter" she called. The door opened and in walked Constable Benton Fraser. Thatcher's heart did the usual jumping it did whenever she saw him. To Thatcher's delight he was dressed in his brown uniform, which showed off his form exquisitely. Oh, how she loved him in that uniform...literally. She loved the way like right now, he usually had his shirtsleeves rolled up, revealing more of his muscular arms. He had no idea what that sight did to Thatcher's insides. In her opinion, he looked even sexier in the brown uniform than he did in the traditional red serge. She really wanted a picture of him in that brown uniform, though; she hadn't been able to come up with a credible excuse yet for taking his picture in it.

Thatcher pulled her eyes from him and stared at her laptop screen, typing gibberish, making herself appear uninterested in his presence. She heard him clear his throat nervously. From the corner of her eye she allowed herself a quick glance at him. He was stood at attention in front of her desk, looking at her. "Yes, what is it Fraser? I'm busy."

"I erm...I thought it prudent to inform you that I am to be evicted, sir."

Meg's head snapped up from her laptop and she gaped at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"I am to be evicted. "

"Yes, I heard that the first time. What do you mean by 'evicted?'"

"Oust, ejected, forced to leave..."

"For God's sake Fraser I know what the word means. I was meaning I don't understand how you have come to be evicted?"

"I have received forty-eight hours notice by letter, to find alternate living accommodation."

"That can't be right. You live here at the consulate. I would have been informed."

"You don't know about this sir?"

"No. You didn't think that I would approve this...that...that I was behind this, did you?"

When he didn't respond, but looked at his boots, she stood and glared at him. "I can't believe you'd think that of me! I know we may not exactly see eye to eye, but I wouldn't see you homeless. It was I who let you stay at the consulate in the first place. Why would I evict you?"

"I apologise for jumping to wrong conclusions ma'am. I erm...I thought maybe I had done something to annoy...er, that is to say, warrant the eviction. "

"Why would you think that?" She looked intently at him. "Have you done something that I would frown upon Constable?"

He cleared his throat. "Erm, not recently, no sir. Not to my knowledge anyway."

"I'll get onto Ottawa right away about this, Fraser. You can go and continue with your duties constable. I'll sort this out. Leave it with me."

"Thank you kindly sir. " He turned on his heel and headed to the door. Thatcher saw him hesitate, and turn back to face her. She rose her eyebrows enquiringly. "I'm sorry sir, for my incorrect assumption."

Thatcher just nodded, picked up her phone and asked her personal secretary, Ovitz, to put her through to Ottawa.

After a good hour and a half on the phone to various departments in Ottawa, Thatcher slammed it down, cursing, "Bastards!" Taking a deep breath, she reached into her desk drawer and retrieved her baseball. She liked to hold it and toss it in the air when she was annoyed...it was her stress reliever...well, that and drink and sex.

Rising from her desk, she threw the baseball at the door. 'TWACK.' The noise, the feeling, and knowing she really shouldn't do it were exhilarating and made her retrieve the baseball and throw it at the door again. Only this time before the baseball hit the door with a gratifying 'TWACK' the door opened...Thatcher cringed as the baseball hit the male Mountie in the face.

"Oh my God! Are you alright?" Thatcher sprinted over to him. He had his hands covering his face, and she gently removed them to reveal a bloody nose. "I'm so sorry Fraser. I never meant to...Is it broken?"

She quickly led him to a chair in front of her desk, and sat him down. "No, I don't think it's broken sir. Just bleeding."

Giving Fraser a box of tissues, she said, "I'll get the first aid kit."

Thatcher retrieved the first aid kit, and gently got to work on trying to stop the bleeding with a cloth and ice compress. Tilting his head back and gently cupping the back of his head to support it, she asked, "Does it hurt a lot Fraser?"

"No, not much sir." Fraser was enjoying the gentleness of her administrations, and was focusing on her rather than the pain.

"I really am sorry about this. "

"It's quite all right sir."

"You know, it's really your own fault Fraser. You shouldn't have entered my office without knocking and waiting for a response. If you had, none of this would have happened."

"I'm sorry about that sir, but I was worried about you."

"Worried about me?"

"Yes. I heard a loud thumping noise and I thought you may have hurt yourself."

"Instead, it appears, you got hurt!" She smiled weakly at him.

He smiled back. "Yes, you do appear to have a strong arm sir."

"Just be thankful I was calming down, otherwise I might have broken your nose!"

"Ah! The baseball was a form of stress-relief sir!"

"Yes. Only, usually I don't throw it at the door."

"Is there anything I can do sir? To help alleviate the stress? Is there anything I can help you with? "

"Thank you Fraser, but no. " Thatcher pulled a chair up facing him. "Fraser, I'm afraid I have some more bad news for you. Believe me, I tried every trick in the book, and every contact I have, but it was no use. I'm sorry Fraser, but Ottawa won't budge, you're going to have to find alternative accommodation."

She saw him give a small sigh. "Thank you for trying sir."

"You don't have to thank me Fraser. I just wish I had been more successful in helping you."

"That's quite alright sir. I guess it just isn't my day!" He smiled ruefully, and Thatcher returned it.

"No, I guess not."

Fraser removed the latest piece of cloth from his nose. "Ah! Good! The bleeding's stopped." He was now able to remove the ice pack from on top of his nose.

"Do you have any idea where you'll go?"

He shook his head slowly. "I'm sure I'll find somewhere."

"Well, you can have the rest of today and tomorrow off to find somewhere. That's the least Ottawa can do."

Wednesday Evening

Thatcher knocked loudly on Fraser's office door. "Just one moment," Fraser called from the other-side of the door.

The door opened and Fraser stepped back to allow Thatcher into the room. She had to squeeze past him, as the typically small place was even smaller with his luggage neatly stacked on the floor in front of his desk. The contact of their bodies as she brushed past him, caused both of them to briefly close their eyes.

"Er, have you found somewhere then?"

"Not as such, no. I was unable to find anywhere with such short notice."

"Then why are your bags packed? Where are you going to go?"

The look of concern in her eyes touched him so much, that he was overcome with a longing to take hold of her and pull her into a loving hug. The closeness of her body, the look of deep concern for him in her eyes, and his current thought of holding her in his arms, caused him to start to perspire. "I suppose I'll go to a hostel until I can find somewhere more appropriate!"

"A hostel! What about detective Vecchio, surely he'll put you up for a few days?"

"Ordinarily yes. However, he is on vacation in Florida with his family."

"What about the other Ray?"

"He's also on vacation, seeing his parents."

"Oh! I see! Is there no-one else?"

"Other than Turnbull, no."

"That's certainly out of the question, what with his current living arrangements!"

"Yes, I agree."

Thatcher bit her lip. He could tell she was considering something. "You could erm...you could always stay with me? S-seeing as you've nowhere else! I wouldn't want to see you out on the street."

His heart did a belly dance with the butterflies in his stomach. Could he really stay with her? To be around her so much in such intimate conditions as to be living together...what a promise of sunshine on his ordinary drab world. "That's very kind of you sir, but I couldn't put you out."

"It's only for a few days, it's no trouble Fraser. If you want to, the offers there! You don't have to if you don't want to."

There was no way he was passing this invitation up. "No. I mean yes. Yes, I'd very much like to stay with you. If you're sure?"

"I'm sure Fraser."

"Thank you kindly ma'am."

"I'm afraid it'll have to be the sofa, as I only have one bedroom, but you're quite welcome to the sofa for as long as you need."

"Thank you. The sofa will be more than adequate. Er, what about Dief?"

Thatcher looked at the wolf and he whined pitifully. "Alright, the wolf can stay too. But don't get hair on my furniture."

"He won't. Will you Dief!" Dief moved his fury head from side to side, and licked Thatcher's hand.

Thatcher led Fraser and Dief up to her apartment. She was in a sort of daze. She couldn't quite bring herself to believe her luck of him actually staying in her home with her. Thatcher glanced at him, and discretely pinched herself. Nope, she wasn't dreaming. Phew! This was as real as Fraser was gorgeous. Opening her door, she beckoned for them to follow her in. "You can leave you luggage in the hallway for the time being." Fraser complied and deposited his baggage against the wall, allowing access to pass.

The cream hallway had two doors leading off from it, before it ended into a spacious living room. This room was light and airy, decorated in relaxing pale lavender. Fraser had never been inside her home before and he had a distinct tingly feeling of excitement. "I'll show you around so you know where everything is." She gestured with her hands. "This as you can see is the living room. There's a private balcony beyond those French windows. Through here is the kitchen." She led him though an archway off the living room into a wooded pine kitchen.

Thatcher showed him around the kitchen, pointing out where things where that he might need. "I don't know whether I have the type of food you like in, or drink! I suppose it might be a good idea to go shopping together?"

"Yes, that would be nice. Erm, I mean, that would be wise."

"Through that other door is a small dining-room. Although, I hardly ever use it. I'll show you where the bathroom is now." Fraser followed her back into the living room, then into the hallway. Thatcher opened the first door they came to and stepped into a sparkling white bathroom. "The towels and supplies are in this cupboard." Fraser nodded in understanding, as she opened it and showed him.

They both stepped out into the hallway. "Er, the other door is to my bedroom. " Fraser glanced at it and wondered if he'd ever get to see the inside! Before his mind could drift to further pleasures he mentally kicked himself. ~ Behave yourself Benton. It isn't right of you to think those thoughts when she has graciously given you a place to stay! Although, if I am correct and really do keep seeing that look in her eye that I did on the train, then I'm not the only one of us who's thought process is in that area! ~

They both stood awkwardly in the hallway. "Well, make yourself at home, while I go and change out of my work clothes."

Thatcher shut the door of her bedroom and leaned against it, sighing.

Oh no! What have I got myself into? How am I going to keep my hands and lips off him when we're living together? Especially if he continues to look at me like he is doing, with that look of want in his eyes! God! He makes me melt with that look.

Her eyes skimmed her bedroom, looking for anything that might need hiding. She spied the framed picture of him from the Musical Ride. It was a lovely photograph of him standing next to a horse in his red uniform. He was smiling, showing his cute dimple. Thatcher pounced on it and thrust it into a drawer. She was very thankful that she was a tidy person by nature and that her home wasn't a tip, what with the unexpected houseguest.

Thatcher quickly changed into blue jeans and a navy blouse. She decided to go barefoot, rather than wear her pink 'shopaholic' slippers. Checking her makeup in her antique mirror, Thatcher went to join Fraser in the living room.

She found him standing in front of the French windows, looking out over the city. "You should see the view at night when all of the city lights are sparkling," Meg told him, walking over to stand next to him.

He turned around at her voice, and his breath momentarily caught in his throat as he took in her body in the blue jeans. He'd only ever seen her in jeans once before, and he had been taken by how much the casual clothes suited her. He loved the way they clung tightly to her legs and to her rear. He allowed his eyes to wander down to her bare feet. His eyes took in her delicate thin feet, with their painted pale pink toenails. Fraser smiled at being allowed to see her bare feet.

He must have been staring because she looked him in the eye and cleared her throat. Fraser jumped a little in embarrassment. "Erm, you have a lovely home sir."

"Thank you. I'm glad you like it."

"Er, I was admiring the art work on the walls, and your cacti collection."

She smiled over at her cacti. "Ah! Yes, they don't need much looking after and I think they bring a variance of colour into the room."

He nodded in agreement. "Yes, they are very beautifully coloured." Fraser indicated a painting on the wall of a river scene. "That's a very splendid painting."

Thatcher's face beamed in delight. "Thank you. You really think so?"

"Oh, yes. Indeed."

"It's of the River Seine in Paris."

"Ah! I wondered if it were." He walked up to it and closely scrutinised every detail of the painting. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the artist. Who's Marguerite A. T.?"

Thatcher smiled. "Oh, you are familiar with the artist Fraser. It's me. I painted it, when I was at college at the Sorbonne."

"My word! Ah! Marguerite is French for Margaret. The 'T' I'm assuming is 'Thatcher'!"

"Yes. And the 'A' is my middle name, 'Anne.'"

"Well, I must say, you really are a wonderful artist sir."

She smiled playfully. "No, you don't 'have' to say it. Only if you mean it."

"I do," Fraser said adamantly. Then realising from her expression that she was joking, he grinned at her.

"Er, there's some room on the coat rack in the hall for some of your clothes. I thought you might want to hang up your uniforms and suits or whatever!"

"Thank you ma'am."

"I'll get some hangers for you, then the rack doesn't ruin the shape of your collars!" He followed her into the hall. She went into her bedroom, while he took his uniforms and his brown leather jacket out of his luggage. She returned moments later with some clothes hangers, and helped him to get his uniforms on them.

"The rest of your luggage can go in the dining room if you like!" He nodded his agreement, and the pair of them moved the rest of his luggage into the dining room.

Back in the living room, Thatcher glanced at the carriage clock on the bureau. "Do you want to go grocery shopping?"

"Yes. That's a good idea." He was surprised at how excited he was about doing a simple thing like grocery shopping with her.

Thatcher looked him over. She hated to say this, what with her liking of the brown uniform, but she thought they'd both feel more comfortable out of uniform. "Er, you might want to get changed before we go!"

He looked down at his clothes. "Yes. I think that would be more fitting."

They looked at each other for a few moments. "You can use the bathroom."

"Right." After retrieving some clothes, slightly disappointed, Fraser shut himself in Thatcher's bathroom to get changed. He had half been hoping she would suggest he change in her bedroom. He was eager to see what it looked like. Getting dressed, he wondered if he ever would get to go into her bedroom!

Thatcher was in the process of zipping up a pair of maroon ankle length high-heeled boots, when he emerged from the bathroom. He was treated to the arousing sight of her backside, tightly tucked into her jeans. He had a sudden urge to grip her bum and give it a good squeeze.

Before he could disgrace himself, Thatcher finished zipping up her boots and turned around to face him. Now it was her turn to do the intense staring. Her eyes rapidly roamed over his blue jumper, down to his tight, faded, blue jeans. She thought her legs were going to buckle with the way the jeans emphasised and hugged his manhood. She quickly closed her eyes to gain her composure. But her reaction wasn't lost on Fraser.

Deliberately looking at his top half, Thatcher smiled and said, "Shall we?"

For a split second he thought she meant something entirely different, and his expression must have shown his thoughts, for Thatcher quickly stuttered, "Sshopping... I...er...s-shopping. Shall we go shopping?"

He nodded, and stepped back so that she could proceed him out of the apartment. In the embarrassment, both of them had completely forgot about Dief and left him behind. Dief wasn't particularly bothered. He just hoped Fraser would remember, feel bad, and buy him something nice and sweet to eat. Flopping on Thatcher's plush sofa, Dief stretched himself out and pressed his paw on the remote control beside him, turning the TV on.

The journey to the grocery store was a quiet one. Both were too busy mentally beating themselves up for their faux pas. Thatcher was driving, and had flicked the radio on to ease the silence, so that they could both mull over how the heck they were going to get through the next few hours, let alone days, without furthering their 'contact.'

Once in the store, Fraser pushed the trolley and Thatcher walked beside him. They started off down the first aisle, which was the fresh fruit and vegetable aisle. "So? What do you normally buy?" Thatcher asked.

"Well, I usually buy a lot of fresh fruit and vegetables. You?" She nodded. "Apples?" He picked a green one up. "Yes, I like apples. I prefer the red ones." Fraser nodded and went about picking red apples up and rolled them around in turn in the palm of his hand, checking that they were fit to buy. Thatcher had to make herself breathe as she watched his large hands cupping and gently running over each apple.

How come the littlest most innocent things Fraser does reminds me of sex!

To busy herself, Thatcher walked over to the bananas and chose a bunch. Bringing them back over to the trolley, she held them up and asked Fraser, "Do you have a banana at all?"

Fraser looked at her hand around one of the bananas and gulped. Without meaning to, he had a vision of Thatcher holding 'his' banana like that. "Oh! Er, yes. I always have a nice ripe banana everyday."

"I'm sure you do," Thatcher muttered under her breath.

With mutual unspoken agreement, they decided to leave the fruit as quickly as possible and move further up the aisle to the vegetables.

Thatcher went to pick up a large bag of potatoes. Fraser gently touched her arm, saying, "Here, let me!"

"Thank you, but I can manage Fraser."

"I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't. I just want to be helpful."

Thatcher looked at him, and saw his need to pick up the potatoes. It was a manthing. Seeing how much it meant to him, she stepped back, and allowed him to lift the potatoes. She smiled as she caught a brief glimpse of his rear end as he bent down to pick the potatoes up, before heaving them into the trolley. They picked up some more vegetables, and then moved on to the next aisle.

This aisle contained tinned goods. To both of their relief, they managed to get what they needed out of this aisle without further incident. The third aisle, fresh produce, caused no problem either. However, the next aisle was going to be tricky...it was the personal products aisle. Both felt like sprinting down this aisle and moving on to the next. Drawing strength from each other, they took a deep breath and together, they slowly made their way into the aisle.

Thatcher cleared her throat. "Arhem! Why don't you go and get your things, and I'll get mine! We'll leave the trolley here, so we can both come back to it."

Fraser nodded in quick agreement. Avoiding looking at the female products, he rushed off in search of his brand of toothpaste and deodorant. Meanwhile, Thatcher gathered her shampoo and deodorant. She didn't know why she was so reluctant to gather these things in front of Fraser! It wasn't as if she were buying tampons! She just felt that this part of her shopping was too personal and too intimate to share so early in their friendship. Obviously, Fraser felt the same.

Meeting back at the trolley, they set off together to the next aisle. While they walked, each did a quick scan of what the other had bought. Entering the aisle, Thatcher picked up a loaf of brown bread. "Do you have any cereal in the morning Fraser?"

"Yes. I usually have Wheatabix."

Thatcher forced down a smirk and a comment. She picked up a box of Wheatabix and put it in the trolley for him. "Do you have cereal in the morning?" he asked.

"Yes. I have 'Kellogg's Special K.' I don't need to buy any though, as I already have plenty in." It was Fraser's turn to force back a smirk. He'd seen the adverts for it, and the woman in them was always dressed in red.

The next few aisles went without a hitch. Both were starting to relax into the enjoyment of the intimacy of shopping with each other. The pleasantness soon dispersed when they entered the 'detergent' aisle. A blonde woman saw them and rushed up to them. Thatcher instantly recognised the woman. A feeling of despise ran through her veins as the woman smiled at Fraser.

"Fraser! Oh, hi! It's so nice to see you."

"Ida! What a surprise." He caught the look on Thatcher's face and was very thankful that he hadn't said 'pleasant surprise.' He'd seen that look in Thatcher's eye before and he could tell that without even knowing Ida, Thatcher had made up her mind that she didn't like her. "Ida, this is..."

He didn't get chance to finish, as Thatcher jumped in with "Meg." Thatcher moved closer to Fraser, so that she was standing up against him. She shot the other woman a territorial look that spoke volumes. And placing her hand on top of Fraser's on the trolley-handle, Thatcher placed her other around his back, and smiled sweetly up at him. "We really should get a move on Ben, this frozen food will start to defrost."

"Ah! Yes, you're right." There was no way Fraser was going to argue with Thatcher that they hadn't got to the frozen food aisle yet! Besides, he wasn't interested in Ida; he wanted to just be with Meg.

Saying 'goodbye' to Ida, he allowed Thatcher to steer them away from Ida. When they were well away from Ida, in the next aisle, Thatcher said, "I'm guessing that's the stripper!"

"Erm, y-yes."

"The one who's closet you were in with detective Vecchio."

"Ah! That's right."

She gave him a hard look. Thatcher contemplated leaving the issue there, but she just had to know the answer to a question that had been bothering her for over two years. "Do you usually go to strip-joints Fraser? I, erm, I just wondered seeing as you'll be staying at mine! Just so I'll know if you'll...you'll be coming home late!"

Fraser blushed scarlet. "No. I assure you sir that I don't usually go to er, strip-joints. In fact I've only ever been once. Well, it was to more than one, but...As for the coming in late, you don't have to worry about that either, as I won't be staying out late."

"It's quite alright if you want to stay out late Fraser. I just wondered, that's all."

He gently turned her to face him, and looked at her for a few moments. "Those stripjoints I went to, it was because of a case I was working on with detective Vecchio. Ida had a connection to..."

Thatcher cut him off again. "You don't have to tell me Fraser."

"Yes, I do. I want to. I want to clear this misunderstanding up. I first saw Ida..."

"Please, give me the short version. We have shopping to do."

"Understood. Ida dropped a stuffed rabbit on the sidewalk; I retrieved it and gave it back to her. In return she gave me a tip off. Detective Vecchio and I wanted to know where she had got this information, and so we started to try to find her. After finding out she worked as an exotic dancer, we went to various clubs and finally we tracked her down. Some rats disrupted our talk with her and so she gave detective Vecchio and I the key to her apartment. We met her there, she told us she'd got the information from her boyfriend who talks in his sleep. Unfortunately he came back while we were there. She didn't want him to find us there, and so we hid in her closet until he fell asleep. Then we left."

"And her groping you when you were on duty?"

"Ah! That! She erm, got the wrong impression and thought I was interested in her in the romantic sense."

"And you weren't?"

"No. I already had my eye on someone else."

Thatcher smiled at him. "You do get yourself into some scrapes Fraser!"

He smiled back. "Yes, I do appear to!"

They finished their shopping off, and took it to the checkout. When everything had been tilled up, Thatcher made to get her purse out of her handbag. Fraser gently, but firmly took hold of her arm. "I'm paying."

"Fraser, there's no need. Why don't we go fifty/fifty?"

He shook his head. "Please, let me pay. It's the least I can do after you being kind enough to put me up."

Thatcher let out an exasperated sigh. "As you wish."

The ride home was more of a talkative one. They discussed their favourite meals, and what they would make for dinner tonight. Fraser established that Thatcher wasn't much of a cook, and offered to cook their evening meal. Thatcher accepted, as she had some paperwork to go through. As they carried the shopping up to the apartment, Thatcher found herself asking, "So, have you ever shared a home with anyone?"

"No, I haven't. Well, other than when I was a boy. And you? Have you ever shared with anyone?"

"Yes. I had a roommate through college. After college I wanted my own space, so I got my own place. And then I lived with a partner for a few months, but it didn't work out with him."

"Oh! I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm much better off without him. I'm just relieved that I found out what he was like before I wasted anymore of my life with him."

Dief greeted them both when they entered the apartment. At the sight of Dief, they both looked at one another, realisation dawning on them. "We forgot about him!"

"Oh dear!" Dief started to make what sounded like grumbling noises. "I know! I know! We're terribly sorry Dief. I don't know how we could have forgotten about you either! I'm very sorry."

At a glance at the living room, Thatcher let out a relieved sigh, that Dief hadn't trashed her home. Fraser followed Thatcher through the living room and into the kitchen, still apologising to a disgruntled wolf.

After unpacking the shopping, Dief was given a tasty sweet treat. Fraser then started to prepare the dinner, while Thatcher went into the living room to work on some paperwork. Picking the remote control up, she turned off the TV, wondering how it had come to be on it the first place! Thatcher stopped mid-sit as she spied the wolf hair all over her sofa. "FRASER!"

He came hurrying out of the kitchen, still carrying a carrot in his hand. Thatcher stood glaring at him. "Fraser your wolf has got hairs all over my sofa."

Fraser paled. "I'm terribly sorry sir. It won't happen again."

"It had better not." Realising she was ruining the pleasant atmosphere they had developed, she smiled softly. "It's okay Fraser. Never mind. Clean it up and we'll forget all about it! Just tell him in future to stay off the chairs, please. He's quite welcome to lie on the rug."

"Where do you keep the er...actually, on reflection, sir, I'm not too sure what you want me to use to get the hairs off the sofa?"

Shaking her head in annoyance, she said, "I'll get the small sofa vacuum." She stalked off out of the room, and returned moments later with it in her hand. She shoved it into his. "There! I'm hoping you won't need it in future, but if you do it's in the closet in the kitchen; with the vacuum cleaner and, well, the rest of what I'm hoping you'll never need!"

"Right sir." He quickly got to work cleaning the hairs off the sofa, under Thatcher's watchful eye. When he had finished, he said, "All done sir!" She nodded, and he turned to go back into the kitchen.

"Oh, and Fraser!"

He spun around. "Yes sir?"

Her voice softened. "Please drop the 'sir' and call me 'Meg' or 'Margaret' while we're at home."

He smiled. "Happily, Meg."

Back in the kitchen, Fraser gave Dief a telling off. "I know you were mad at me, but that's no reason for taking it out on the Inspector's furniture, Dief." The wolf skulked away under the round kitchen table. Fraser shook his head in vexation.

When dinner was ready Fraser went to tell Thatcher. He paused in the archway between the kitchen and living room, just watching her. She was sat on the sofa, absorbed in her paperwork; her glasses perched on her nose, pen in her hand. He smiled at the image she portrayed. She really was an attractive woman, even with her glasses on. He called softly to her, "Meg!" She looked up from her paperwork, quickly removing her glasses. "Dinner's ready."

She smiled up at him. "Right! Thank you. I'll be along in a moment, I'll just put this paperwork away."

He nodded, and returned back to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Thatcher joined him in the kitchen. "Umm, it smells good." She glanced at the kitchen table, then up at him. "You've even set the table! It looks lovely."

"Thank you." He slowly escorted her to the table, pulling out a chair for her. Thatcher sat down, and had a closer look at the table. Fraser had covered it with a red tablecloth. He'd even lit a red candle in the centre. Seeing her appraising his work, he said, "I erm, hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of using the table cloth and the candle that I found in one of the drawers! It's my way of saying thank you."

Thatcher bit her lip and smiled up at him. "I don't mind at all Ben. It's very nice."

That seemed to please him. His smile broadened. He picked both plates off the kitchen counter and carried them over to the table. Thatcher smiled at him as he placed her plate in front of her. "Well, this certainly looks as good as it smells." Fraser had prepared trout in tartar sauce, with a selection of vegetables.

"What would you like to drink Meg?"

"Really, Ben, you don't have to wait on me."

"I want to."

"A glass of white wine then please. There's one already open in the fridge." She watched him retrieve the wine and pour her a glass, before placing it back in the fridge. "Won't you have some Ben?"

"Thank you, but no. I don't drink alcohol." He poured himself some water and then joined her at the table.

Now that he was sat, Thatcher started to eat her meal. "Umm. This is really good Fraser. "

"I'm glad you like it."

"So, where did you learn to cook like this?"

"My grandmother. She taught me from an early age. She used to insist that culinary skills were as necessary as reading and writing."

"Ah! Now you see, that's where my upbringing went wrong. My grandmother didn't teach me much cookery, and then my mother was too busy with work to teach me the recipes." Thatcher laughed. "You should have seen me in home-economics class. Talk about a laugh riot. I think I gave my teacher a nervous breakdown."

Fraser smiled. "I'm sure you couldn't have been that bad!"

"Oh, believe me, I was. I burnt everything, forgot to put vital ingredients in." She started to laugh again. "For instance, there was this one time when we were supposed to make a 'cheese and potato bake,' only at the end I realised I'd forgot to put the cheese in it. So really, mine was just a potato bake." Fraser laughed at that.

"Another time we were making 'hot cross buns' and when the teacher told us to cut the buns into a cross, I misunderstood her and I cut all of the way through, so I ended up with four pieces, which promptly disintegrated into crumbs when I picked them up. I didn't know that she just meant to make a slight indentation in them! Really, in my own defence, she should have made her instructions more clearer!" Fraser couldn't help but to laugh harder at Thatcher's cooking disasters.

"After those tales I'm rather relieved I did the cooking now."

"Hey!" She gave him a playful glare, and then smiled.

After they had both finished their main meal, Thatcher helped Fraser move the plates and cutlery into the dishwasher. "Would you like some desert Ben?"

"Yes, that would be lovely." He looked at her and added jestfully, "Do you want me to do it? So that we know it will turn out right!"

She playfully slapped his arm. "Watch it you. I'm perfectly capable of making desert. That's one thing I can do." She added smiling, "As long as I don't have to bake a cake." She looked in the freezer, and said, "How about bananas and vanilla ice-cream?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Bananas and vanilla ice-cream it is then. You sit down and I'll bring it over to you." Fraser did as he was told, while Thatcher busied herself with scooping vanilla ice cream into two dishes. He watched her pick up two bananas, skin them, and then chop along each banana, cutting them into small circular pieces. She added the bananas to the ice cream and brought both dishes over to the table. "Would Dief like a banana?"

"I doubt it. He's not one for healthy food. He'd be more inclined to guzzle down the ice-cream."

"Should I give him some ice-cream then?"

"Thank you, but no. I think that after the sweet treat he had earlier, he's had quite enough for the time being. "

They both sat in silence while they ate their desert. Each stealing quick glances at the other while they ate.

Spoon in mid air, Thatcher jumped and spilled the ice cream and bananas, when Dief's front paws suddenly landed on her knee. Both Fraser and Thatcher spoke at the same time, "Dief! Get off."

Dief obeyed sulkily. ~ Why are they mad at me? I only want her to like me, and make a fuss of me. She smells good. ~

"That was very naughty of you Dief," Fraser admonished. Looking at Thatcher and seeing the ice cream was on the tip of her nose and slices of bananas had fallen down her top, he started to get very uneasy. "I'm terribly sorry sir...erm, I mean Meg."

He watched as Thatcher took deep calming breaths. Fraser stood up and retrieved some kitchen-roll. "Here, let me help!" He started to gently wipe the ice cream off her nose.

Thatcher went rigid at his touch. She could barely breathe. When his eyes flitted down to the slices of bananas wedged down her blouse, his hands hesitated and Thatcher looked into his eyes, wondering if he was going to dare to proceed helping her!

He looked into her eyes. Making a decision, he handed a piece of clean kitchen-roll to her, and moved to put the other in the dustbin. Thatcher finally let out a deep breath. She found herself both relieved and then disappointed.

While Thatcher fished down her blouse for the bananas, Fraser tried to avoid looking at her. He intently busied himself with his own bowl of ice cream and bananas.

At Thatcher's yelp, he quickly looked up at her. "Fraser, can you not control that wolf?"

"Erm...he can be very stubborn at times sir. But he generally means well. Why?" He moved his glance to Dief who was once more beside Thatcher. She seemed to be having a hard time keeping him at bay.

"Why? I'll tell you why Fraser; he's now taken to licking my leg, and...and, his head...he tried to put it in a place where I don't particularly want it." He followed her eyes down, and it dawned on him where Dief had tried to put his head.

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry sir."

"So you keep saying."

Fraser looked sternly at Dief. "Dief, come here." The wolf whined, but obeyed and came to sit next to Fraser. "Why did you lick the Inspector?" Fraser was a little ashamed of himself, because he would like to lick the Inspector himself.

"Grurerrwoof!"

"Ah! I see."

"Wruffgurrwoof!"

"Yes, I'll tell her." Fraser turned to Thatcher. "Dief says to tell you that you 'have ice cream on your leg, and er, in your lap.'"

"Oh! Right!" Thatcher looked down and sure enough Dief was right. She started to wipe the ice cream off.

"Dief didn't mean any harm sir. He was only trying to help."

Thatcher looked up and Fraser. To his surprise, she smiled. "I know. He's just like you!" Her smile faded. "But maybe he could try to help some other way! Like, maybe barking and then showing me what the problem is!"

"Yes, sir."

Thatcher rolled her eyes. "Ben please, we're not at work now, call me Meg!"

"All right. But would you please call me Ben, instead of Fraser, when we're off duty?"

She smiled wryly at him. "Point taken, Ben." They went back to eating what was left of their desert.

Desert finished, they went into the living room together. Dief was still sulking in the kitchen. "Would you like to watch a movie?" Thatcher asked.

"Yes, that'd be nice." Fraser sat at one end of the sofa, and Thatcher curled up at the other.

Thatcher used the remote to get the movie listings up on the screen. "Well, it looks like it's either a mindless violence movie, or a romance movie! Which do you want?"

"I don't mind either way, you choose."

"Romance it is then."

They both sat in companionable silence watching the movie, until about an hour into it, when the sex scenes came on. The atmosphere went quickly tense between them, and Thatcher began to wish she'd picked the violent movie instead. Fraser started to shift uneasily on the sofa, and clear his throat. The moaning from the movie started to get louder and louder. Fraser started to fidget and repeatedly clear his throat. Eventually Thatcher couldn't take it anymore.

"Fraser!" He literally jumped in his seat. Looking at her he blushed. "Erm, Ben! Would you like me to turn it over?"

"Erm...y-yes. I-if you don't mind?"

Thatcher nodded and turned it over to the violent movie. It wasn't difficult to catch up with what was happening in the movie. Basically, it was just one group of guys blasting another group to bits, with every available weapon man could dream up. Despite the blood and gore, they both started to relax once again into a friendly silence.

When one decidedly gruesome part appeared on the screen, Thatcher winced. Fraser noticed and sneakily moved his hand over to cover hers. At the touch, Thatcher froze and turned to look at him. He gently squeezed her hand, and smiled. "We can turn this one over as well if you prefer, Meg?"

Thatcher decided to take full advantage of this situation. "No, that's okay. I don't mind watching it. As long as I have an arm to grip at the really gory bits!" Just as Thatcher had hoped, Fraser held his arm out for her and smiled. She scooted up next to him and linked her arm through his, leaning against him.

When the next gory part happened, she deliberately squeezed his arm and ducked her head against his shoulder. Taking her contact as a sign that it was all right to initiate some of his own, Fraser took her hand that wasn't gripping his arm, and held it. She decided to rest her head on his shoulder, and he in turn rested his cheek on the top of her head. Every so often, for good effect, she squeezed his arm at a gory part. And he responded by squeezing her hand and then gently stroking it with his thumb.

Fraser liked this game. He didn't want to rush and overstep the mark. But at the same time, he wanted to kiss and hold her. He decided then and there that whenever she initiated contact (which he was sure she would) he would take his cue from her, and continue it as far as she was willing to go. He felt so wonderfully content with her cuddled up to him. And he was determined that he wasn't going to let her slip away from him.

Thatcher loved the warmth of him next to her. He felt so good to cuddle up to, the feel of his soft jumper against her. She couldn't remember a time when she had felt this cosy.

She was most disappointed when the movie finished. Raising her head from Fraser's shoulder, she asked, "Do you want to go to bed?" Realising the implications, she quickly added, "I...I mean, what with me sitting on the sofa! If you're tired just let me know, and I'll go and fetch the bedding for you and make the sofa up."

He glanced at his watch. "I suppose it is rather late, and I have the early shift at the consulate tomorrow."

Thatcher nodded and reluctantly rose. "I'll go and get your bedding."

When she was in the hallway, walking to where the bedding was kept in her bedroom, she cringed at her wording.

God! Meg! Why didn't you just blurt out, "so do you wanna have sex with me!" Jeez! And I really shouldn't have done what I did on the sofa too. He's gonna think he's got to 'put up' to stay here! Oh my God!

Thatcher closed her eyes in shame.

When she returned with the bedding in the living room, Dief had come out of sulkdom and was curled up on her white rug. Fraser stood as she entered and moved to take the bedding from her. "It's all right Fraser, I can manage." Her tone held no arguing with. He stepped back and let her make his bed up.

While she made it, he looked out of her French windows. Even though he preferred the scenery of the wild north, and clear skies, she was right about the view from here at night. The entire city lights twinkling against the backdrop of the black night, was mesmerising. "I see what you mean about the view Meg!"

She looked up, over at the city through the French windows. "Yes, when I sit on the balcony and block out the American accents, I can imagine I'm back home in Toronto." She smiled. "It probably sounds silly, but..." she shrugged.

He shook his head and looked tenderly at her. "No, it doesn't sound silly at all."

Once she was done, she turned to him. "I'll just check that everything's locked up!"

"I'll help." Without answering she headed off towards the front door to see that it was securely locked. Fraser decided to check the other side of the apartment. They almost collided in the archway. He reached out and took hold of both of her arms in a reflex movement.

They looked at each other for a few moments, awkwardly, until Thatcher said, "Excuse me Fraser, I need to check the kitchen and dining room windows."

"All done," Fraser said, still holding her. "I've already checked them."

"Oh!" She nodded. Looking down at his hands on her arms, she cleared her throat and looked up at him. He quickly released her.

"Goodnight then!" Thatcher said.

He smiled and dipped his head. "Yes, goodnight, Meg." She gave him a half-smile and then headed off to her bedroom.

After repeatedly checking the security locks on the doors and windows, even though both he and Thatcher had already done the rounds, he finally settled on the sofa for the night. Dief stood up and looked at the empty armchairs. "Don't you even think about it!" Fraser warned. Flicking his tail in Fraser's face, Dief turned his back on Fraser and lay down on the rug.

Getting in bed, Thatcher's thoughts went straight to the man sleeping down the hall, on her sofa. She wondered if he was thinking about her!

He was. Lying on her sofa, in her living room, with her sheets surrounding him, his head on her pillow, inhaling her scent, Fraser could almost visualise her sleeping at the side of him. With that thought he dozed off into a pleasant sleep.

Dief was miffed at having to sleep on the floor. Why should Fraser get the sofa and not him! Dief waited until Fraser had dozed off, then walked quietly past him, and slinked off down the hall. Jumping up against the bedroom door, Dief put both of his front paws on the door handle. He pushed down with all of his weight. The door swung open. Slipping into Thatcher's room, he climbed into bed with her.

Subconsciously uneasy, Fraser woke from his pleasant dream of Thatcher. He soon noticed that Dief was missing. Getting up, Fraser went into the kitchen. There was no sign of Dief. Worrying what Dief was up to in Thatcher's home; Fraser started to check the other rooms.

Walking down the hall Fraser noticed that Thatcher's bedroom door was open. Standing at the door, he peaked in. What he saw made his eyes go wide and his breath catch in his chest. Dief was lain bedside a sleeping Thatcher.

Oh dear!

Tiptoeing into Thatcher's bedroom Fraser went to the side of the bed where Dief was. Fraser gently shook Dief awake. Hands on his hips, Fraser mouthed, "What do you think you're doing here? Get out of the Inspector's bed this instant!" Dief made no attempt to move he just gave Fraser an insolent stare. "Right, that's it!" Fraser got hold of Dief and tried to tug him out of the bed. Dief made a grumbling noise, and did his best to stay where he was by digging his claws into the bed.

The commotion woke Thatcher. She sat up in bed, startled. Her mouth fell open as she took in the tug-of-war. Her eyes went from Fraser leaning over her bed, to Dief beside her.

Fraser gulped, and Dief stopped struggling. Both petrified at what Thatcher's reaction was going to be.

When she finally spoke, her voice was deadly calm. "Why are you both in my bedroom? And why is Dief in my bed? Didn't I make it clear enough about him not being on my furniture!"

Dief sprang out of the bed and, tail between his legs, ran out of the room. "I'll get the small vacuum cleaner!" With that, Fraser sprinted out of the room after Dief.

Fraser found Dief cowering under the kitchen table. "I'll deal with you later!" Fraser said, as he retrieved the small vacuum cleaner and hurried back to Thatcher's bedroom.

While Fraser once again found himself cleaning up the wolf hairs, Thatcher sat in bed glowering at him. "You still haven't told me what you were both doing in here when I woke up?"

"Ah! Yes. Erm, well, you see, I woke up to find Dief missing. I found him in here and tried to get him out of the bed without waking you."

""Yes, I'll bet you didn't want to wake me!" Thatcher said sarcastically.

"I'm very sorry Meg. I assure you it won't happen again."

"You said that last time Ben."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Dief is feeling a little left out I think. It could be a combination of the moving too. He meant no harm."

She sighed. "I know. I have had pets myself Ben."

"Yes, so you've mentioned."

"I know they have feelings just like us. Actually, I'm quite flattered that he chose to get into bed with me. I didn't think he liked me that much."

"He has good taste Meg." Fraser locked eyes with her.

Thatcher tossed her hair, and broke the silence, "However, you've got to admit that it was a shock finding you both here when I woke up. I would prefer not to find Dief in my bed again."

"Certainly Meg."

"You'd better get some sleep Ben. You have the early shift tomorrow."

"Yes. Goodnight Meg."

"Goodnight Ben."

Fraser took Dief downstairs and out of the apartment building. While Dief relieved himself, Fraser scolded him. "Dief, would you at least try and behave! Is that too much to ask? I really don't want the Inspector to end up evicting us from her home, and right now she has every good reason to! Do you want to end up on the streets Dief?"

The wolf hung his head in shame. "I thought not. And neither do I. So let's go back in there and turn over a new leaf!"

Thursday Morning

Thatcher awoke with a start at the ringing of her alarm clock. She turned it off, and stretched. Climbing out of bed she put her white dressing gown on, pink 'shopaholic' slippers, and padded out of her room with the mission of making coffee. When she entered the living room and saw Fraser sitting up in the makeshift bed on the sofa, her eyes went wide and she stopped dead.

Oh crap! I forgot he was here. Oh God! Look at me! I'm a mess! I haven't even brushed my hair, let alone put any makeup on or cleaned my teeth yet. And look what I'm wearing! Argh! This can't be happening! He can't see me like this!

She started to quietly back out of the living room. It was too late; he'd spotted her. "Good morning Meg!" He spoke cheerily to her, and she could almost swear that his eyes were laughing at her.

"Oh God!" She turned around and rushed back to her bedroom, leaving Fraser staring dumbfounded after her.

She appeared twenty minutes later, hair combed neatly to her shoulders, makeup to perfection, teeth cleaned, and fully dressed in a maroon business suit. In the meantime, Fraser had dressed in his brown uniform, and had prepared coffee for her.

Fraser was sat at the kitchen table eating wheetabix, and he turned around when she entered the kitchen. "I'm sorry about earlier Fraser. I was still half-asleep and I forgot that you were here. I'm sorry for my outburst and then fleeing from the room. It was very rude of me. I want to assure you that it was nothing you'd done. It's just it suddenly occurred to me what a fright I must look, and I thought I'd better go and make myself look decent."

"You've no need to apologise Meg. I thought you looked lovely." He looked her boldly in the eye.

Her brow arched. "You did?"

He smiled. He was actually quite pleased that he'd got to see her in such a personal way. "Yes. Very nice slippers." He got an amused smile out of her at that. "I've prepared some coffee for you. Your cereal is here too." He indicated to the table.

"Thank you." She sat down at the table with him. "Did you sleep all right last night? Was it comfortable enough?"

"Yes, thank you kindly. It was most comfortable. I actually slept better than I have done in quite a while. I was out like a light."

Dief came over to Thatcher with two morning newspapers in his mouth. He sat down next to her and placed the newspapers on the table. "Thank you Dief." Thatcher stroked the top of his head. Dief made a satisfied sound and wagged his tail at Thatcher.

"Would you like a newspaper to read Ben? I have two delivered, the Chicago Mail, and the Toronto Times."

"Yes, thank you kindly Meg. It will be nice to read up on the goings on in Toronto, if I may?"

Nodding, she handed the Toronto newspaper over to him. Looking at the Chicago one, she stared at the front page trying to read it without her glasses.

Fraser noticed and delicately said, "Erm, wouldn't you find it easier with your glasses Meg?"

"I don't wear glasses Ben." He shook his head and watched her in amusement. "What?"

"Nothing."

Peering once again at the newspaper, her face turned stony. "When were you going you tell me about this Fraser? Or were you going to wait for me to get the pleasant phone call from Lt. Welsh?"

She held the paper up for him, so that he could see the headline on the front page. Fraser spluttered and nearly choked on his breakfast. "Ah! That!"

"Yes, Fraser, that." She looked at him with her brows arched. Oh, how that look turned him on.

"I didn't think it worth mentioning sir."

Her voice was the calm before the storm. "You didn't! Let me see if I have this correct; you didn't think it 'worth mentioning' that yesterday when you were supposed to be looking for accommodation, you somehow managed to find time to stop a robbery at one of Chicago's leading jeweller's! In the process, causing a multiple car pile up, which included none other than the Mayor's private limousine, and him having to be rushed to ER for treatment! Not to mention the damage you caused to private property while trying to catch the perpetrators, which no doubt Lt. Welsh will want the Canadian government to pay for!"

Fraser gulped. "Y-yes sir."

He could tell Thatcher was about to blow a gasket. If this were a cartoon, she would have steam rising out of her ears and nose by now. "You're back on report."

"Understood sir."

Thursday Evening

Fraser was doing his laundry in the kitchen, while Thatcher watched the news in the living room. Dief was sat on the floor at the side of her, made up at having a TV to watch. To Thatcher's continuing annoyance, Dief, fed up with the news, kept putting his paw on the remote control and turning the channel over to Beavis and Butthead. "That's it! If you do that one more time I'm going to hide the remote," Thatcher yelled.

To her exasperation, Dief beat her to it and ran off with the remote in his mouth. "Great! Just wonderful!" Standing up, Thatcher walked into the kitchen to yell at Fraser. "Fraser, that wolf of yours have stolen the remote control and won't give it back. Do something about it!"

She stopped and stared when she saw him ironing his white boxer shorts. "Certainly Meg." Seeing her stare, he queried, "Is something the matter Meg?"

"No. Nothing at all." She leaned against the counter and folded her arms. "Erm, Ben, are those starched?" He nodded. "And you're now ironing them!" He nodded again. "Do you usually do this?"

"Yes. Why?"

She forced down a laugh. "Never mind." She watched him place his boxers onto the neat pile beside him, and pick up his Stetson. To her further amusement, before her very eyes he started to iron the brim of his Stetson. Thatcher let out a laugh. He looked up startled. "You truly are amazing Ben! Why on earth do you iron your Stetson?"

"You don't?"

"No, of course I don't. I don't know anybody who does except you. Remarkable!" She shook her head in wonder.

Fraser placed his hand in his washing basket and pulled out a white T-shirt. He quickly noticed he'd pulled something else out too, and thrust it behind his back. "What have you got behind your back?"

"N-nothing Meg." He flushed to a dark pink. Fraser relented under her gaze. "Somehow these ended up in my laundry!" He brought his hand from behind his back and hand shaking, held up some of Thatcher's black lace unmentionables. Thatcher virtually ran forward and snatched them out of his hand.

"I'll go and get the remote control for you!" Fraser side-stepped around her and left the kitchen.

It took him twenty minutes to persuade Dief to finally give him the remote control. Entering the kitchen he found Thatcher sat at the table with the newspapers. "Here you go Meg. Sorry it took a while!" He placed it beside her on the table.

"Ben have you done my crossword?"

"I beg your pardon?"

She held the Toronto Times up. "Have you done the crossword in here?"

"Yes."

"Well, thanks a lot Ben. I was looking forward to doing that crossword."

"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't know. There's one in the Chicago Mail, I didn't do that one."

"No, and neither do I, it's too easy!"

In trouble again, Fraser went back to his laundry. Peeved that he'd done her crossword, Thatcher watched him. Her frown changed to another amused smile when she saw what was on some of his socks and boxers. She started to laugh again. "I didn't mark you down as a man who wore cartoon underwear Ben!"

He looked at his socks and smiled. "No. Neither did I. They were a present from Huey and Duey for Christmas."

"Ah! I see!" They both smiled at each other.

When Thatcher emerged from the shower there was no sign of either Fraser or Dief. Once she had dressed she went into the kitchen to look for them. A note was lying on the table to her. It was from Fraser saying he had taken Dief out for a quick walk and that he would be back soon. Thatcher set about making dinner.

Two hours had passed before Fraser and Dief came home. Thatcher was royally pissed off. Curled up on the couch reading a book Thatcher barely glanced up as they walked into the room. She did however, remove her glasses. "You said you wouldn't be long! Where have you been?" She barked.

"Ah! Yes, it is rather late. I apologise. I would have called only I didn't have the opportunity. I went to the park with Dief. There was a purse snatching and..."

"I get the picture. Did you do any damage I should know about? Or that might jeopardise your job with being on report?"

"Er, no, sir."

"Your dinner's in the oven."

"You cooked?"

"Yes, I cooked. Although I might as well have not bothered!"

"I'm sorry Meg. Truly I am."

"So you should be." She went back to reading her book.

By the time he had finished his dinner, she had gone to bed. Disappointed, he made his bed up, and then sat down on the sofa and read. Dief stretched out on the rug and to Fraser's relief, behaved himself and went to sleep.

Loud ear-shattering snoring woke Thatcher up. Getting out of bed, she put on her dressing gown and slippers. Determined to roll Fraser onto his side and stop him snoring, she went into the living room. Only, when she got there, she soon saw that it wasn't Fraser whom was snoring, but Dief. Like her, Fraser was wide-awake and looking sleep deprived.

He sat up as she came into the room and stood beside the sofa. "I'm sorry Dief woke you Meg."

She smiled at him; her annoyance had dissipated into amusement at the snoring wolf. "You know, I thought it was you who was snoring. I can't believe it's Dief. Does he always snore?"

"Not always, but yes, he does snore frequently."

"Is there any way to shut him up?"

Fraser cocked his head to one side and ran his thumb over his eyebrow. "I suppose we could put him outside on the balcony!"

Thatcher shook her head. "No, I don't want to do that. It's cold out. And I would feel really cruel doing that."

Fraser smiled warmly at her. "Then I believe the only other logical thing to do is to wake him!"

Thatcher looked down at the sleeping wolf, and felt sorry to have to wake him. "You're right. We'll have to wake him. You do it!"

Fraser climbed out of bed and knelt down beside Dief. He gently shook the wolf awake. Dief moaned in protest at being woken. "You were snoring Dief. "

Thatcher also knelt down beside Dief. She stroked his head. He nuzzled her in return. "I'm sorry we had to wake you. You can go back to sleep now, just try and not snore please!"

"Woof!" Dief settled down again and closed his eyes. Fraser and Thatcher stood, exchanged goodnights and sleepily went back to their own beds.

Friday Morning

Thatcher came out of her bedroom intending to have a shower. At the bathroom door she stopped as she heard running water and singing. She started to laugh as she listened to Fraser singing in the shower, "Oh I can't get off off my horse, cause some dirty dog put glue in my saddle. In my saddle, in my saddle, yes some dirty dog put glue in my saddle!"

Fraser emerged from the bathroom, dressed, to find Thatcher standing outside smiling. "Nice singing Ben!"

"Oh! Erm, yes, thank you kindly Meg." He moved aside to let her enter the bathroom.

When Thatcher joined Fraser in the kitchen, she caught him drinking out of the carton of milk. "Could you not do that please!"

"Oh! Sorry. Force of habit."

Dief greeted her with the morning newspapers again. This time Thatcher made more of a fuss of him. The wolf revealed in the attention. "Oh, and another thing Ben, while I remember, could you please not leave the toilet seat up!"

Fraser tugged his ear. "Certainly Meg." He cracked his neck. Thatcher winced. She hated it when he did that. He noticed and fidgeted.

"Please! Relax Ben. It's too early in the morning for your stiffness." Realising the choice of words they both momentarily froze, and quickly looked away from each other. He went back to making his omelette. She to focusing on the newspaper.

When an acceptable time had elapsed, Fraser asked, "Would you like an omelette for breakfast Meg?"

"Yes, please. That would be a nice change. Thank you."

When they were both sat at the table, eating, Thatcher said, "Before I forget, I'd better give you my spare key. I won't be home directly after work tonight, I'm going to the gym, so you'll need the key."

She handed the spare key over to him. He took it and stared at it a short while. Looking up at her he said, "Thank you." It was clear to Thatcher that he was thanking her for more than just handing him the spare key, but for allowing him to stay.

Friday Early Evening

Fraser entered the gym where Thatcher said she would be if he needed her. He walked up to the reception desk. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Margaret Thatcher!"

The young red headed woman behind the desk gave him the once over. "Are you a member?"

"Er, no."

"You look like you work out! Are you a member of another gym?"

"No. I'm not a member of any gym."

"Really? Well, that's great, you can join here!" She proceeded to push some forms over to him.

"Thank you, but I don't want to join. I'm just here looking for Margaret Thatcher."

"You mean Meg?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Are you and Meg like, you know?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are you Meg's guy?"

"Oh! Erm...I don't believe that's the type of personal information you need to know on your members! Could you please tell me where she is?"

"She's through there somewhere." The woman indicated with her hands to some glass double doors. Fraser could see people working out behind the doors, but from his angle, he couldn't see Thatcher.

"May I go and find her please?"

"Nah, sorry, that's not allowed."

"Well, then, may I go and take a look around the gym to see if I want to join?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, s'pose, that'd be alright."

"Thank you kindly."

"Oy! Wait!" Fraser spun around. "You're uh, dog or whatever, can't go in there. No animals aloud."

"Understood." Bending down to Dief, Fraser explained that he would be back soon, and to wait in the reception area for him.

Fraser scanned the large gym and saw Thatcher at the other end. She was dressed in blue Lycra shorts and a matching Lycra work out top that was little more than a bra. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, and she was talking to a muscular man. It was obvious to Fraser that the man was 'hitting on her.' Fraser watched her step onto a treadmill and start to jog. The muscular man got onto the treadmill at the side of her. Fraser quickly made his way over to where Thatcher was.

"Meg!"

"Ben! What are you doing here? Is everything all right?" He ponytail bounced and swung from side to side as she continued to jog.

"Yes, everything's fine." He glanced over at the muscular guy. Thatcher noticed and introduced them.

"Ben, this is Mark." Fraser and Mark gave each other a curt nod.

"May I have a word with you Meg?"

"Er, yes." She got off the treadmill, and Mark leaned over and touched her arm.

"I'll save it for you."

She smiled at him. "Thanks Mark, but there's no need. I'm gonna move on to the others."

Fraser exchanged looks with Mark, and then placed his hand on the small of Thatcher's back, guiding her over to an unoccupied part of the gym. Thatcher sat down on one of the machine benches, and putting her hands on the holds at either side, she started to bring them together, working on 'chest strengthening,' by doing the 'butterfly.' "What do you want to talk to me about Ben?"

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to the theatre tonight? I have reserved two tickets for 'Romeo and Juliet.'"

"Well, yes. Thank you Ben, I'd love to go. What time does it start?"

"Seven thirty."

"Hey Meg! And who's this?" A woman of around Thatcher's age, with light brown curly wavy hair came to stand next to them.

"Nancy, this is Benton Fraser. Ben, meet my friend Nancy."

Fraser held out his hand, and politely shook Nancy's. "Nice to meet you, Nancy."

"And it's nice to finally meet you too." He saw the 'don't you dare' look that Thatcher shot her friend. Nancy just grinned mischievously at Thatcher. "Oh, yes, he's definitely a dish. I see what you mean Meg."

"Nancy, don't you have a husband and child to get home to!"

"Alright, say no more, I'm gone." She quickly gave Thatcher a peck on the cheek. "See you Meg! I hope to see you again too Ben!" She smiled a knowing look at Thatcher and walked off.

"Right, I'll do one more exercise and then I'll hit the showers. Do you want to wait for me or go home?"

"I think I'll wait."

"Okay." Thatcher rose and moved over to another machine. She lay down on the bench this time, on her back. Putting her hands above her head, she took hold of the pulling mechanisms and pulled. Fraser watched as her body weight moved the bench along the runners, backwards when she pulled, and forwards when she released, ' doing a 'cardio pull.' He found his mind wandering to images of her beneath him, moving in this rocking motion. He couldn't take his eyes off her...the motion, the way the Lycra hugged her figure, showing every mound and curve. He could feel himself burning up just watching her.

Suddenly she sat up and mopped her forehead with her white towel. "I'm done now Ben." She made to stand and he held out his hand to help her to her feet. She accepted it. Her hand remained in his as they walked towards the showers. "Erm, Ben, don't you think you should wait in the reception while I take a shower! I don't think the other females will be too happy if...actually," she looked around at the other women ogling Fraser. "I think they'd be very happy if you went in there, but it's probably for the best if you don't!"

He blushed, and slowly let go of her hand. "I'll be in the reception area."

She let out a short laugh. "Okay. I won't be long."

In the reception area, Fraser stood at the window, looking out at the street, trying to avoid any further conversation with the receptionist. "Er, Ben isn't it?"

Fraser turned around to find Mark, fully dressed. "Yes, that's right."

"I take it you're waiting for Meg!"

Fraser nodded. "Yes."

"So, are you dating Meg then?"

"I currently live with her." Fraser smiled inwardly at the look on Mark's face.

"Oh! Right! Well, you're a lucky son of a bitch, aren't you!"

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"Yeah, she's a hottie, alright! I tell you, I wouldn't say 'no' to her. Nah, I'd give her one anytime, if you know what I mean!" He nudged Fraser. "So, is she as good in the sack as she looks?" At the glare from Fraser, he said, "Hey, sorry. Don't mean to piss you off. "

Before Fraser could respond, Thatcher walked up to them. Fraser quickly put his arm around her waist, and started to steer her towards the exit, saying, "We'd better get a move on, as I want to take you to dinner first."

Outside Thatcher asked, "What was that all about?"

"What was what all about?"

"You and Mark?"

"Nothing of importance."

At the apartment, Thatcher went into her bedroom to get changed. She emerged wearing a maroon dress, and black high-heeled shoes. Fraser was waiting for her in the only suit he owned, a navy blue one, that Ray Vecchio had insisted he buy. Fraser smiled and held out his arm for her, saying, "You look beautiful."

Thatcher smiled back and took his arm. "Thank you. You look impressive yourself."

His smile broadened at the compliment. "Thank you kindly."

Fraser and Thatcher said goodbye to Dief, and promised to bring him a 'doggie bag.' Dief was quite satisfied to have the TV all to himself for the evening. He could watch Beavis and Butthead until his heart's content.

"So, where are you taking me to eat? We don't have to go anywhere fancy. Just somewhere nice."

"I think I know just the place."

Thatcher stood on the pavement and looked up at the restaurant sign, "Crabs and Things!" Fraser nodded. "Have you been here before?"

"No. I saw it in Ray Vecchio's restaurant guide a few years ago, and meant to try it out."

"Ah! I see! So I have Ray Vecchio to thank for this then!"

Once seated in the restaurant, the waiter came over to them. "Can I take your order?"

"What exactly are the 'Things?" Thatcher asked.

"Clams, shrimp, scallops, lobster, abalone and oysters ma'am," the young male waiter said.

Thatcher considered the list. She liked lobster, but knowing that Fraser would insist on paying, she wasn't about to order that, or the oysters for that matter. "I'll have the special," she said, knowing it wouldn't be too expensive and at the same time hoping she would like it. Fraser ordered the same.

To Thatcher's relief, the meal was nice. And the company made it even nicer. They collected a 'doggie bag' for Dief and then headed over to the theatre.

Sat in near darkness in close proximity to Fraser, Thatcher could hardly concentrate on the play. She was much more interested in observing the man next to her out of the corner of her eye. He seemed absorbed in the play, his body relaxed and at ease with her. She liked that. It wasn't often that she saw him so at ease in her company.

To Thatcher's surprise he took one of her hands and held it in both of his.

Is this a date then? Am I actually dating Benton Fraser? Oh my!

The play went by in a blur for both Fraser and Thatcher. Both of them were far too busy trying to internally arrange their own feelings to take any notice of the play. By the end of the play Thatcher was still confused. Fraser on the other hand, was not.

On the way home neither spoke much. Just agreed they liked the play and that the actors were good. In reality the actors could have been flubbing their lines all through it for the amount of time they actually focused on the play.

Dief ran up to them when they entered the apartment, interested in what the humans had brought him to eat. Fraser handed Dief the bag and Dief ran off into the kitchen with it.

"We should probably go to bed, it's late," Thatcher said.

Fraser nodded and followed her to her bedroom door. They both stopped outside of it and looked at each other. Fraser slowly lowered his head and kissed Thatcher full on the lips. At first Thatcher was taken aback by his forwardness. It didn't take her long to respond to his intense kiss, and open her mouth to his probing tongue.

When she wrapped her arms around him and responded, Fraser enclosed her in his own arms. This time the kiss wasn't interrupted by anyone, but lasted until both were breathless and pulled back for some much-needed air.

When she had caught her breath, Thatcher said, "Goodnight then Ben. Thank you for a lovely evening."

"You're welcome." His eyes never left hers, and he searched them for the sign he was looking for. If in doubt, ask! "May I come in?" He indicated to the closed bedroom door behind Thatcher.

"Er, I don't think that's a good idea!"

"What are you afraid of Meg?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you keep backing away from me?"

"You know why!"

"No, I don't think it's because you're my commanding officer. I'm willing, it's not like Henri, I want to be with you, there's a difference. I think you're just using that as an excuse."

"Don't be silly, why would I do that?"

"Because you're afraid of what you feel."

"I'm not afraid Fraser," she said defiantly, and putting her arms around his neck, she jumped up wrapping her legs around him. He cupped his hands around her backside.

She indicated to the bedroom with her head. He nodded. Thatcher opened the door and he carried her in. His mind was fully on her and nothing else. He placed her on the bed and lay down on top of her.

He whispered in her ear, "I'm going to pleasure you all night, like you've never been pleasured before."

"Really? And what makes you think you're so good?"

"Because I am."

"Oh, you're very sure of yourself! You think you're going to be the best I've had? I've had quite a few partners, good ones at that."

"After seeing some of the men I think you've slept with, I know I can please you a lot better than them."

"Oh you do, do you!"

"Yes. I do. I know that I can do better than the Museum curator, or that Spanish Ambassador."

"You know, that Spanish Ambassador was rather good."

"Not as good as what I'm going to do. For starters, I'm not drunk like he was, I'll be able to please you for as long as you want."

"You will. You think you can do better than him! Even without the Latin blood?"

"Oh, yes."

"I thought you were a man of action Fraser! Or are you just all talk?"

In response to her teasing challenge he started to kiss her. They took it slowly, for they had all night, and wanted to savour each other to the maximum. Fraser kissed her, running his hands up and down her body, but not actually stopping long enough to caress, until her lips were bruised from their union with his and she was begging for more intimacy.

He started to undress her, at the same time assisting her to remove his clothing. When they were both completely naked, he took a moment to let his eyes take in every inch of her. Only then, did he start to touch her pale smooth skin.

His touch was confident and she felt herself begin to melt underneath him. Her own eyes and hands searched his body from top to bottom.

He turned her over onto her stomach and started to lick, kiss and touch his way down her. She quivered as he kissed the back of her knees. Making his way back up her, she felt him nip her backside, and she laughed in delight. "Right, that's it Mr!" Pushing him off her, she turned him onto his own stomach and straddled him. She leant over, her hair brushing his skin, and whispered hoarsely in his ear, "Now it's my turn!"

She made him lay there while she started at his ear, and slowly made her way down his neck, his shoulder, and back, to his bum. Once there she smiled and sunk her teeth into his rear, nibbling at him. Pulling back, she licked and kissed where she'd bitten him.

Twisting his body around, he took her in his arms and rolled her to the side of him. There he kissed her. Moving on top of her, he straddled her and placed light butterfly kisses over her belly. Working his way up to her breasts, he licked each nipple in turn and then nipped it.

Thatcher pulled his head down, and he took a breast into his mouth, suckling it. She ran her hands through his thick hair. Fraser moved his lips to her other breast and gave it the same intense attention. Thatcher let out a moan. He sucked even harder and was rewarded by another moan from her.

She took hold of his head in both her hands and pulled his head away from her breast. Flipping him over she sat on him and returned the favour on his chest. It was now Fraser's turn to moan under Thatcher's skilful thumb and forefinger, then lips and tongue.

She could feel him hardening under her, and she moved herself against him, rubbing her wetness against his hard length. He let out a loud groan, and squeezed her backside, pulling her down more against him.

Thatcher pulled out of his grip and moved to the side of him, running her hand along his length. He climbed on top of her and parted her legs, settling his large body.

Fraser paused before entering her, and urgently asked, "Where do you keep the protection?"

"What makes you think I have any?"

"Because I know you. I know you're no virgin, and that you wouldn't take any risks. Come on Meg, I can't hold back anymore!"

"They're in the top bedside drawer, my underwear drawer."

He opened it, and held up some of her knickers, "Very nice." His eyes widened in amusement as he pulled out some of her sex aids. "You won't be needing these again." He pulled a feather duster out, and looked puzzled at her.

"Oh, you've never used one of those in sex! Here, allow me." Taking it from him, she flipped him over and ran the feather duster teasingly down his chest, and over his hard length. He groaned. "I see you like that." He flipped her over, and taking the feather duster from her, used it on her, running it down her neck, over her breasts and across her stomach.

Putting his hand in-between her legs, he rubbed her there while he ran the feather duster over her curls. Thatcher bucked her hips up to him. Tossing the duster to the floor, he kissed her on the mouth, and inserted his finger into her core. Thatcher murmured under his mouth. He inserted a second finger and started to finger fuck her. Thatcher grabbed his back as she started to come. Fraser kissed her harder, and thrust his tongue in rhythm to his fingers. He felt Thatcher's vaginal muscles clench around his fingers as her body shook with her orgasm. Pulling his fingers out of her, he broke off the kiss and licked her wetness off them.

Fraser placed gently kisses on her face until her breathing steadied. Picking up a condom, he tore the foil open and rolled it on. Before he could enter her, she flipped them over so that she was on top. Fraser closed his eyes as Thatcher took his penis into her mouth and sucked. His hands balled into fists on the bed. "Meg, I can't hold on much longer!" he pleaded. She looked up at him and nodded, allowing him to flip them over, so that he was once again on top.

He settled himself in-between her legs again, and this time entered her warmth. He groaned as he felt her encase him. Thatcher wrapped her legs around him, and placed her hands on his buttocks, allowing Fraser to set the pace.

Thatcher couldn't quite believe that Fraser was actually making love to her. And she was pleased to find out that he hadn't been lying to her when he had told her he was good. He certainly knew how to use what he'd been given to pleasure women. She couldn't get enough of him, the way he thrust deeply in and then pulled almost out of her. He was now driving her crazy in another way. Thatcher matched his pace for a while and then needing release, she started to increase it.

Fraser matched the new pace and then rose her pace with a faster one of his own. Thatcher could feel herself coming. She gripped Fraser's backside and helped him drive home.

They both came together. Holding on to each other for dear life, Thatcher to his backside, and Fraser to her thighs, pulling her even more to him. Fraser's orgasmic groan thrilled Thatcher and he collapsed on top of her. He stayed still for a few moments, and then carefully pulled out of her and disposed of the used condom into the wastebasket beside the bed.

Rolling her on top of him, he kissed her forehead and cuddled her. Thatcher felt so loved, and safe and secure in his strong warm arms. She hated to say it but she had to, "You do know Ben that this ends as soon as we get out of bed!"

"Not if I have anything to do with it, it doesn't." He looked at her. "I'm not going to lose you now Meg. Oh no. Not now. If I have to chase you, I will."

"Chase me huh?" She smiled up at him.

"Yes, Meg Thatcher, chase you." He playfully slapped her bum.

"Hey! Say you're sorry!" She bit his nipple until he relented.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Will you stop biting me now?"

"I don't know. Maybe. It depends if I get the urge to again or not!"

"I know what I have the urge to do again!"

"Oh yeah, and what might that be?"

"Let me show you!" With that he kissed her. Turning her onto her stomach he spread her legs and lay in-between them, kissing her neck. "Do you want it like this Meg?" He ran his hands down the sides of her body and stroked her thighs.

"Do it if you want to Ben, I'm not gonna beg."

"Oh really!"

"Yes really."

"In that case, I'm going to take you outside onto the balcony and make love to you there!"

"Fine! It's about time the neighbours got a taste of their own medicine!" That took Fraser by surprise, and she noticed and laughed. "Surprise you did I? Wanted me to beg for you to do it here! I'm not coy Ben; I can beat you at your own game anytime. Besides, I find the idea of you fucking me on the balcony quite arousing."

"Are you sure? What if someone sees us?"

"That's all part of the thrill Ben."

"Okay then." He rolled off her and picked up a condom. "Outside it is then." Thatcher grinned at him and ran out of the bedroom, he ran after her, and caught up with her at the French windows. He put his arms around her and kissed her.

Pulling back she turned and opened the door out onto the balcony. Taking Fraser's hand she led him outside. Tossing her hair, she pulled him down onto the floor. She straddled him and said, "This time it's my turn on top." Taking the condom from him, she tore the foil and rolled it onto his already hard length. Guiding him into her, she started the pace.

He moulded a breast in each hand, and she threw her head back in delight. He needed to be closer to her, to feel her body firmly against his, and so he sat up and pulled her legs around him. Taking her in his arms he held her and rocked them both. He kissed her, their tongues moving in time to his thrusts.

Fraser came first this time. After his release he unwrapped her legs and lay back pulling her with him. He then rolled over, so that he was on top, and continued his thrusts and caresses until she reached her climax. Only then did he stop and pull out of her.

Fearing she might get cold, he picked her up and carried her tired body back to bed. There he cuddled her in his arms and fell asleep with her.

Saturday Morning

Both Fraser and Thatcher slept until nearly noon. Thatcher was the first to wake up. She looked at Fraser sleeping beside her. Her heart nearly broke at the thought that she would never be able to allow herself to see that again, to never be able to allow him to make love to her again. She knew it would break both of their hearts, but this had to stop right here. Carefully disentangling herself from him, she got out of bed and taking some fresh clothes, went into the bathroom to have a shower.

Fraser awoke to an empty bed. His acute hearing caught the sound of the shower. He got out of bed, gathered his things up and folding them, took them to his laundry bag in the dining room. Getting some new clothes, he flicked the coffee maker on and then went to wait outside the bathroom, clothes in hand.

The door opened and Thatcher came out. Noticing he was still undressed she averted her gaze. Fraser smiled at her and moved to kiss her. She side stepped him. "We need to talk after you've had a shower." She turned and walked away.

Fraser joined her in the kitchen after his shower. She handed him a cup of coffee and sat down. Dief had already delivered the newspapers to Thatcher and was eating his own breakfast beside her feet. Before he sat down, he bent and kissed Thatcher on the cheek. She instantly pulled away. "Meg what's wrong. Why won't you let me kiss you?"

"I'm sorry Ben, but what happened between us last night, it can't ever happen again."

"Why not?" He sat down facing her.

"Because I'm your superior officer, that's why."

"Oh fuck that!" Thatcher was startled at his swearing outburst. She'd never heard him swear before. Didn't even think he was capable of it. "That's just an excuse and you know it! Why are you so afraid to let me love you?"

"You love me?"

"Yes, of course I do. It may have been just a one night stand to you, but to me it was much more than that Meg." He looked hurt.

"Ben that's not what I meant. It meant a lot to me too. You mean a lot to me."

"Then why are you being so flippant about last night?"

"Because it won't work. You and I. You won't be happy with me Ben. We both have different ideas about where we want to end up. I'm a city girl, whereas you're a child of the wilderness. I can't expect to keep you locked up in a city with me, no more than you can expect me to be happy in the middle of nowhere."

"And what if I love you?"

She bit her lip. "Then you'll get over me."

He slammed his fist down on the table making her and Dief jump. "Get over you! What the hell do you think I've been trying to do for the last few years? I think about you all the time. I finally get to be with you and you throw it back in my face the very next morning. I wish I could get over you but I know I won't. If I haven't got over the kiss, then how the fuck do you expect me to get over making love to you?"

"Shouting at me isn't going to help!"

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"Ben, do you seriously think this is any easier for me? I'm in love with you too damnit!"

"You are?"

Thatcher let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes. And that's why I have to put you first. I want you too be happy."

He ran his thumb over his brow. "We both need some room to think today. I'll take Dief and go out somewhere for the day."

"You'll be back though won't you?"

"Yes." He stood.

"Promise me Ben, that you'll come back for dinner?"

"I promise."

Fraser spent the whole afternoon just walking around Chicago with Dief, trying to work out what it was he wanted. He knew he wanted Meg. But she did have a point, would he be happy spending his days in a city? He wasn't sure. He liked it here, but he had always had the idea of going home one day in the back of his mind. He knew he was ready to settle down, and if truth were told he wanted a family. Furthermore, he wanted a family with Meg.

Back at the apartment, Thatcher had started preparing dinner when Fraser and Dief walked into the kitchen. "Um, something smells good Meg!"

"Yeah, well, I'd reserve judgement until you've tasted it!" She smiled at him, and patted Dief.

"What is it exactly?"

"Its desert. I thought I'd spend the afternoon trying to make an apple pie!"

"Ah! That should be..."

"I think 'interesting' is probably the word you're looking for," she laughed.

"So I'm going to be your guinea-pig am I?"

"Oh yes. Er, could you pass me a pan for boiling the pasta please?"

"Certainly." He handed her a pan and she frowned.

"This isn't the right pan for boiling pasta. I use that other one."

"Oh! Well, actually this is the correct pasta pan."

"I disagree, just pass me the other one!"

"As you wish!" He handed her the new pan.

Dinner was served, and the pasta and sauce were edible. Then came desert. The apple pie was a little burnt on top, but Fraser braved it, partly because he didn't want to insult Thatcher. Dief just sniffed his piece of apple pie before nudging it away from him with his nose. Fraser took a bite under Thatcher's watchful eye. His first instinct was to spit it out, but that would just be too impolite! Instead he chewed it as fast as he could and swallowed it, quickly reaching for his glass of water. "Is it really that bad?"

"No. No, it's erm...well actually yes. It's terrible."

Instead of being insulted, as he had feared, Thatcher started to laugh. "I told you my cooking was bad, but you always have to see the good in everyone Ben!" she chided.

"Well, last night's dinner wasn't too bad."

"That's because it was just steak and vegetables. I can just about manage that. But when it comes to actually baking something...well...you see what I mean!" She shrugged.

"Yes, I do see what you mean. Erm, maybe I could teach you?"

"You are a gluten for punishment Ben!"

Thatcher insisted on clearing the dishes away, and sent Fraser and Dief out from under her feet. When she entered the living room, she found Fraser tidying the living room up. He was straightening the magazines, books and newspapers up on the coffee table. This irked Thatcher, as in her opinion, they didn't need to be straightened up. Walking over to the table she deliberately picked up two magazines and tossed them on the sofa, until she found the one she wanted. "Right, I'm going into my bedroom to read." With that she turned around and left him straightening the magazines up again.

Fraser knew she was going into her room to avoid him and it frustrated the heck out of him.

Right, if that's the way she wants to play it, she's got another thing coming!

Fraser strutted down the hall to her bedroom. Tapping lightly on the door, he opened it and entered. She was sat up in bed reading. Without giving her a chance to say anything first, he said, "I did a lot of thinking today and I've come to the conclusion that I know my mind better than you do, and I know I will be happy with you."

"You think you will?"

"Yes. I know I will."

"I'm not the easiest of people to get on with Ben."

"I know that."

Her eyebrows rose. Then she smiled. "Yes I suppose you do. Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

"Yes."

" I have a headache. Could you kindly shut the door on your way out!"

"I see." Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked out of the room, slightly slamming the door behind him.

Later that night, Thatcher tiptoed out of bed and into the living room. Fraser was asleep on the sofa, and Dief was sleeping on the rug. Thatcher quietly walked over to Fraser. He looked so peaceful asleep. She bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

Fraser stirred. Seeing Thatcher, he smiled and pulled the covers back. "Want to join me?" She nodded, and he helped her climb onto the sofa beside him. He put his arms around her and pulled the covers up. He felt her snuggle closer to him, and he kissed her head. "I do love you Ben, you know."

"I know honey." They fell asleep together on the sofa.

Sunday Morning

Thatcher awoke to backache with sleeping on the sofa. Standing up, she stretched. "Have you got a sore back?" Fraser asked.

"Yes. I don't know how you've been managing on there!"

He got up and expertly rubbed her back. Thatcher groaned. "Um, that feels better. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I'll go and make us some coffee," she said. He nodded in agreement and set about making the sofa up.

Thatcher came out of the kitchen holding two steaming cups of coffee. Fraser wasn't in the living room. She put the coffee down, and walked to the bathroom door. She couldn't hear the shower running and wondered if he'd gone into her room to get changed. Deciding he must have, she thought she'd beat him to the shower. Opening the door she went in. She gasped when she saw Fraser naked in the bath.

"Oh! Why didn't you lock the door?"

He smiled at her and stood up, showing more of his body to her. "Why don't you come and join me?"

"Why don't you ask me the correct question?"

He cocked his head to one side and considered what she'd said. "Do you mean you want me to propose to you Meg?"

She laughed. "Wrong question." She turned around and walked out.

He found her in the kitchen, towel around him. He wrapped his arms around her waist. Kissed her on the top of her head, then her cheek. "I do want to marry you Meg."

"That's not what I meant for you to ask me Ben. We don't know each other well enough yet for marriage."

"And I want to get to know you as much as possible, but you won't let me."

"Then ask me!"

He thought for a moment. "Meg, will you date me?"

She turned around in his arms, and smiled up at him. "Yes. Right question." She kissed him on the lips. "You see, I'm your superior officer, Ben, if you want to be with me you'll have to do the chasing. That way, we won't get into trouble."

"Understood, love."

"You do realise that just because we're dating, doesn't mean I'm going to change! I'm still gonna get mad at you if you annoy me at home, as well as at work. I can't just separate my feelings. If you piss me off at work, I might be mad at you at home. And likewise, I can't always guarantee that I won't want to kiss you at work!"

"Oh, I can live with that. You know Meg, that's one of the things I love about you, the fact that you do get angry with me and show it, no other woman is like that with me and I like it."

"You really love me?"

"Yes. I love you very much. With all my heart."

"Oh Ben. I love you too. Even if I do want to hit you sometimes."

The End

End Houseguest by Riley: rileyuk1@btopenworld.com

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