this story was written as an answer to a story challenge on thecloset.
for those of you who aren't on that list, here's a brief explanation.

there's been a bit of fuss over a website called
http://www.godhatesfags.com/ and we were surprised to note that the
organisers of this site had decided to picket the Canadian Consulate
in New York. so i went and had a look (warning: you need a strong
stomach to visit the site. these people give homophobia a bad
name...)

this was what i found:

WBC to picket Canadian Consulate in N.Y. on Sept. 10

On May 20 the godless Supreme Court of Canada decreed same-sex marriage
to be equal to God's Holy matrimony. Canada is now a lawless & doomed
nation of sodomite scum. To the U.S. & to all the world: Be warned:
Boycott Canada!

Aug. 2, WBC picketed the Su. Ct. in Ottawa, Canada, burned the Canadian
flag. Also on Aug. 2, WBC did warn Canada in Montreal on Dominion Square.
The N.Y. Consulate picket will be at 1251 Ave. of the Am-ericas, to flee
God's wrath!

so the challenge to thecloset was to write a story titled Boycott
Canada. here's my response :)

oh, btw, they also picketed the Chicago consulate :)

Boycott Canada



"Uh... Sir?" Fraser looked up as Turnbull's head popped round the edge of his door. "I think you ought to... there's a Situation, Sir."

Fraser sighed. "I know there's a situation Turnbull. The protesters have been outside all morning."

"Yes, Sir." The sandy head disappeared for a moment, then reappeared. "Sir, it's just..." he broke off as Fraser looked up impatiently. "Well, this is Another Situation, Sir. Ray is..."

"Thank you, Turnbull." Fraser rose hurriedly. The situation outside was volatile enough, without Ray getting involved. He walked down the dark hallway as quickly as he could without breaking into a run. Turnbull was close behind.

He opened the door to see a shouting, heaving mass of placards and bodies. It hardly seemed possible that only fourteen people could make such a lot of noise and take up such a lot of space. Two harassed looking police officers were holding back a smaller knot of people from the gates at the edge of the Consulate property.

There was no sign of Ray. Fraser hurried forward, casting a questioning glance over his shoulder at Turnbull.

"Over there, Sir." Turnbull pointed slightly to the left of centre. He lifted his hands to cup round his lips. "Ray!"

From the direction indicated by Turnbull came a surge of bodies, and then Ray erupted from the seething crowd. Fraser felt his eyebrows arching skywards and manfully repressed the movement. The gates parted and Ray came staggering towards him, looking more dishevelled than usual.

A small sheet of paper fluttered to the ground behind him and Fraser bent to retrieve it. One quick glance had his eyebrows attempting to wrest control off him and resume their upward path. Fraser tucked the paper into his belt pouch and followed Ray up the path.

The three men entered the gloomy confines of the Consulate in silence. But not for long. Ray turned on the two Mounties with a furious tirade, most of which Fraser filtered out as being unfit for polite company.

"Ray." He grasped Ray's arm and steered him down the hallway, away from a disappointed Turnbull. As usual, this made not the slightest impression on his partner. "Ray, Ray, Ray... Ray!"

The tirade finally stopped. "What Frase?"

"Don't you think your... your appearance was somewhat... well... inflammatory?"

Ray looked down at his fluorescent pink cycling tights, well padded at the front, and his white T-shirt, short enough to fully display said padding, and at the legend printed on the front proclaiming "Nobody Knows I'm Gay". "What's wrong with it? Don't ya like it?"

Fraser inspected him from the top of his suddenly very blond spikes to the sequined sneakers on his feet. He would never have believed one man could wear so much cheap jewellery. A tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth was all the weakness Fraser allowed himself. He rubbed his left eyebrow distractedly. "It is rather... um... fetching. But not really appropriate considering."

"What, because of those homophobic wackos?" Ray scowled. "They shouldn't be out there in the first place. Why don't ya get them arrested?"

"Ray..." Fraser sighed. "This is a democracy, and these people are simply exercising their democratic right to protest."

"You know what they've got on those placards?" Ray's voice rose dangerously. "They say Canadians are a bunch of sodomising scum."

Oh dear. Fraser rubbed his eyebrow again, but it didn't help much. "Well, Ray, we do actually..."

"It's the principle, okay?" Ray jabbed a finger at him. "What's it to them, huh? They should keep their sick fantasies out of our bedroom."

Perhaps it was time to try another tack. He pulled the paper out of his belt pouch and held it out. "Did you really have to hand out invitations to our wedding, Ray?"

Ray shrugged. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Ray, we're not getting married. In fact we can't get married." Fraser was starting to feel a little desperate. "The Supreme Court decision didn't legalise same sex marriage, it simply said that it was equivalent to traditionally recognised marriage. Only the government can make it legal."

"So what are those losers out there complaining about?" Ray was outraged.

"Well... I suppose they object to the principle of it, Ray."

A ferocious scowl was his only answer. Ray half turned away from him, his shoulder hunched.

"Ray... you don't... I mean, do you... uh..." Fraser stopped, not sure whether he wanted an answer to a question he wasn't sure he wanted to ask.

"What?" Even Ray blinked, taken aback by the vehemence of that one word. "Sorry Frase... I don't what?"

Fraser fidgeted with his lanyard. "...uh, want to get married..."

Ray's eyes widened. "Hell, no! I already done that once, why would I wanna do it again?"

Oh. Fraser released the breath he'd been holding.

"You don't wanna get married do ya Frase?" Ray was looking at him worriedly. "Anyway, you said we can't."

"Well, not yet, Ray. I think it's bound to happen sooner or later." Fraser swallowed uncomfortably. "But I have no particular desire to... uh... to be married."

Ray grinned broadly. "And here was I thinking you were so straight. If you'll pardon the expression."

"I'm actually rather relieved to hear that, Ray." Fraser found himself edging forward. Those pink tights were very... well, tight... he put his arms around Ray and tried not to flinch at the strong smell of hydrogen peroxide combined with a rather overpowering and very floral cologne. It wasn't anything like Ray's usual cologne.

Ray leaned against him, his padded groin rubbing invitingly against Fraser's jodhpurs. "Yeah?" His voice dropped to a throaty murmur. "How relieved?"

Their lips met and clung. Fraser's hand drifted downward over the slippery material and moulded itself to Ray's shapely buttock. It was quite obvious he wasn't wearing anything underneath. Fraser suppressed a moan at the memory of Ray's back view as they'd walked up the path.

"Guess that's good enough. For now." Ray was wearing that little 'fuck me' smile that always drove him crazy. "You wanna go out front and do that?"