Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/a_kite_fic/

Disclaimer: RayK and Fraser are not mine. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.

Author's Notes: I was reading Speranza's story, Kowalski Is Bleeding and this came to me out of the blue. If you know the story, you might recognize the lines. Thanks for the inspiration, Speranza. Thanks also to my beta readers BJ Cochran and KSoren.

Story Notes:

I walked into the bar that night. It was noisy - pipeline crew in town. I was just stopping in for a beer before I headed home. Went up to the bar and waited for Henry to get to me. These guys were loud. And obnoxious.

Bang! One of them, not much bigger than me slammed his mug on the bar and bellowed, "Another here! Pronto!" American, Jersey accent.

I'd been up here long enough to know that's not the way to get service at Henry's place. I'd also been here long enough to know not to tangle with these assholes down from the pipeline. Too late, though, this guy was spoiling for a fight.

I didn't say nothing, I swear, but the guy looked at me and started in. "Hey! Look who we have here. If it ain't the Mountie's bitch!"

How this guy knew who I was, I don't know, but then being the new guy in such a small town I guess word gets around. I was tired and not looking for trouble. Had been working all day trying to fix a snowmobile that was being stubborn. Henry came along and slapped a beer down for the pipeline guy and took his attention away for a second. I sidled for the door.

No luck. A big, meaty hand grabbed my shoulder before I could make it out of there. "Hey! Where you going, pussy boy? Larry was talking to you."

Shit. I did not want to go home to Fraser all beat up, but sometimes you've got no choice. So, I stopped and turned back around. "Yeah, I'm Corporal Fraser's bitch. What's it to you?"

The big guy still had his hands on me. Real low he asked, "You sticking around? You're not going to be running back to the States are you?"

I was scared, but I shook my head no. The big guy slapped my back so hard I almost fell over. He bellowed, "Good! Now sit down here and have a beer."

I sat, and Larry brought a beer over to the table where me and the big guy were sitting. I tried to be cool, but my hand was shaking a little as I picked up the glass. I took a drink and felt better. Henry has good beer.

"So, you're Kowalski?"

"Yeah."

"I'm Larry King. No jokes, ok? And this is my partner, John. We call him Big John up on the crew." Larry put his hand over the other guy's and squeezed it. I almost choked on my beer. What the hell was this? A delegation from the gay oil field worker's union?

Well, maybe not all of them, but these two, evidently. It took me a second or two to catch up with what the guy was saying, "...heard about you and decided we'd better come down here and check you out. Make sure you're treating the Mountie right."

Big John rumbled, "Fraser's special. We had to see if you were good enough for him."

Why did that not surprise me? Everybody loves Fraser except his superiors. "So, do I pass muster?" I asked and gave him my best 'shake bad guy, shake' look.

They laughed and slapped the table. "You'll do, Kowalski. You'll do."

I looked at the clock above the bar. Damn! It was late! I drained my beer and stood up. "Gotta go, guys! You know, Fraser will be wanting his supper." Yeah, yeah, totally wimpy, but what did they know? My cooking skills consisted of lifting up the phone and calling for take out before we came up here. They didn't need to know that. Let 'em think I'm taking care of him instead of mostly the other way around. I was learning, though. It made Fraser proud and happy, which in turn made me happy. It was all good in my book.

They both laughed when I jumped up. It was good-natured so I didn't get pissy about it. Big John thumped my back again, and Larry shook my hand. Somebody else, I don't know who - didn't stop to find out, pinched my ass on my way out. Must be something in the air up here that makes a guy want to jump another guy's bones. Nah! I wanted to do that back in Chicago. Jump Fraser bones, I mean. I just didn't cop to it until I got up here.

There wasn't a fight at Henry's Place that night or if there was, it was long after I left. Pipeline crews didn't mess with me after that other than a squeeze here and there. I don't get called bitch and pussy boy no more either.

End Henry's Place by A. Kite: AKite68163@aol.com

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