Boring disclaimer stuff: I'm only borrowing the boys and Dief. They don't belong to me, no copyright violation is intended, I'm using them carefully--well, sorta--and returning them undamaged. As near as I can tell. [g] The story itself is mine. Permission to archive only on the Due South archive at hexwood.

Rating: PG/Humor (or Pure Silliness)/PWP. (the PG is only for one or two words, just to be on the safe side)

Series: First in the Ice Cream series. See Notes, below. I'm working on the second one, but I've got to get some more real-but-oddball ice cream flavor names...and the guys haven't been talking much to me lately, at least not about the funny stuff.

General Notes: The Original Ray. This takes place in that nebulous time between the second and third seasons. I don't have the faintest as to where this idea came from; I just heard the name of the ice cream, and instantly thought, "Due South!" As to synopsis? For once, it's Ben that gets - *gasp* - besmirched!!! Ray practically has hysterics as a result; revenge at last! And Dief- Well, you'll see. Oh, the horror! ::covering eyes::

There really is an ice cream called Caramel Caribou, as described in this story; word of a Mountie! But alas, Ben & Jerry's doesn't make it. It's some local brand an online friend told me about. (thank you, Molly; this is all your fault, you realize...) I have no idea who the heck the manufacturer is. (I know, at this rate I sound totally clueless about anything.) Neither did my friend; and who would recognize it anyway? So I'm borrowing B&J too, as the distributors, and attributing this flavor to them. You've got to admit, it sounds like one of theirs. They due have a store in Chicago; I checked their web page. ;)) So at least one part of this is correct!

Thanks again to the AOL DS gang for beta-ing and encouragement, especially Jenn S. Naturally, any faint cheers of encouragement, chocolate, Mounties and/or original cops are appreciated. Oh, yeah, that constructive criticism thing--ok, that too. Any flames will be edited, checked for spelling, grammar and originality, and returned redlined for corrections needed before acceptance for the round file. You can reach me at MonicaPDX2@aol.com . TYK! And hope you enjoy.

"Ray, I don't understand the problem."

"The problem? The problem?! The problem is this is supposed to be my day off!"

"Ray, I really wish you wouldn't--Ray!"

The inoffensive little old lady wouldn't make the mistake in future of thinking that the 'Walk' signal meant it was safe to cross the street. She had, moreover, made it back to the curb undamaged, Fraser noted. Maybe that was a good omen? He carefully peeled his fingers from the dash and endeavored to slow his breathing. Ray did seem a tad upset. Perhaps he hadn't made it clear as to why this was so important.

"Really, Ray, I do appreciate this. When I volunteered to assist in today's events, I didn't realize it would entail picking up the refreshments. Or at least this part of the refreshments, which, of course, do comprise the main-"

"Shut up, Fraser."

Oh dear. He was going to be sulking the rest of the day. "Ray?"

"I said shut up. I meant shut up. I shoulda known. Any time you mention a 'little job,' things turn out for the worse. You'd think I'd've learned by now!"

Oh my. Definitely sulky.

"Well, now, Ray, that's just not true. All I need you to assist me with is picking up the ice cream. It won't take that long. And think of how happy the children will be."

"Yeah, right. Happy enough to puke. You think I don't know kids and excitement? You're gonna regret wearing your dress uniform. You'll have to pay extra at the cleaner's, trust me."

"Oh, I don't think so, Ray. Sister Christopher assured me that the children were well-behaved." Fraser came to a sudden stop, remembering the noticeable twinkle in the old nun's eyes when she'd told him how well-mannered the children were. There was something about that twinkle-

Ray interrupted his thoughts. "Don't you believe it, Benny! Trust me; a well-behaved kid is a sick kid. Unless all these orphans have no gumption left, what with being orphans and all; which I doubt. Bound to be twice as hellacious. Trust me."

"Ray, be serious."

"I am serious!" Ray spared an eye from driving to glare at his best friend. "You dunno kids at parties as well as I do. Even orphan kids at parties. Even orphan kids at parties under the control of nuns. I'll admit, nuns pretty much do the best at controlling kids; but still!"

"Ray, you make it sound like taming wild animals."

"It's close," Ray muttered, and stomped on the brakes. Fraser, caught unaware, grabbed the dash again. "Here we are," Ray announced, oblivious. "The Chicago distributor for Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream, ta-daa. Geeze, what a dump."

A whine came from the back seat. Ben turned to frown at the wolf. "No, I told you already; you can't come in with us. We won't be that long, and you'll just want to get samples, or do something else embarrassing. I won't have it."

A low growl. Benton frowned back, and Dief finally licked his chops and became very interested in passing traffic.

"C'mon, Benny, get your rear in gear. I've got plenty of things to do today, and none of 'em involve gallons of ice cream melting in the Riv in the middle of traffic on a Saturday!"

"Yes, Ray." Fraser slid out and followed his friend, who was already halfway up the steps to the entrance.

Ray hadn't been fair. Yes, the building was old, and the exterior somewhat dingy; but inside it was sparkling, delightfully cool compared to the heat outside, and the decor was, well...yummy. That was the only word that came to mind. Cool pastels, that made him think of sherbet. Or perhaps, if more traditional-minded, sorbet. And not the virulently-colored confections he'd seen in those-

"Benny! Over here! D'you wanna get a move on? I can hear it melting!"

Benton removed his Stetson as he crossed to the reception counter and peered down at the somewhat diminutive (really, almost gnome-like) man behind the barrier. "How do you do, sir. I'm Constable Benton Fraser-"

"Yeah, yeah, Benny, we got that already. He's looked up the order, they'll have it ready out back in a sec, just sign here."

Fraser looked down. The gnome looked up. Ray fidgeted.

"Ah. Thank you kindly, Ray." Benton signed the purchase order, and studiously ignored the glares that the gnome and Ray were exchanging. He couldn't help but notice, however, that while Ray's effort was a fine example of Italian passion and verve, the gnome had the advantage of age and immobility. The cop had style, but Ben thought the gnome had it won on points for execution.

Accompanied by another round of muttering, the Riv was positioned at the side of the loading dock in back, and 50 gallons of Ben & Jerry's finest, in insulated boxes, were wedged into the trunk and back seat. Diefenbaker, much to his displeasure, was displaced to the floor of the front passenger side. He let his opinion be known; unnecessarily, to Benton's way of thinking. Worse, he wasn't looking, so couldn't read Ben's responses to his grumbling. Fraser wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or not. On one hand, the constant singsong, whining mumble coming from between his feet was extremely annoying. On the other hand, if Dief had put his head in the only position possible to read his lips, Ben realized...Well, that brought thoughts of being stopped at a red light while appearing to be addressing his...er, crotch...in chastisement. No. Definitely not.

Between Diefenbaker and the equally annoying whine about the Riv's upholstery from Ray, it wasn't a pleasant trip to the orphanage. Despite Fraser's best efforts, Ray didn't hang around after helping unload the ice cream. He saw Sister Christopher approaching with an eye well-honed by years of parochial school. He blanched, said a hasty good-bye, and was in the Riv and gone so fast that Benton was left gaping after him, almost certain that his Stetson had been sucked in after the wake of the car.

No, it was still firmly on his head, thank goodness. He turned towards Sister Christopher and removed it. "Good afternoon, Sister."

"Good afternoon, Benton," she answered, looking delighted to see him. Or was it the ice cream? She leaned down and gave Dief a nice ear-scratch. "And you too, Diefenbaker. Are you going to help entertain the children? They've never seen a real, live wolf up close. Who knows, we may be able to arrange some ice cream for you, too!"

Ben winced. Oh dear. This was not going to be pleasant. A pair of bright amber eyes turned inquiringly to him; equally questioning were the faded but still twinkly eyes about three feet higher. "I'm afraid that's not a good idea, Sister," he said a bit defensively. "I'm trying to wean him from junk food; with little success, I might add. He's not cooperating very well." This with a meaningful glance at Dief. The wolf ignored him, focusing instead on the nun's face.

"Oh, but I'm sure if he's a good wolf with the children, he'll deserve a reward," Sister Christopher cooed, and started off down the hallway, Dief prancing alongside. He seemed positively eager to meet the children now, Ben thought bitterly. Traitor. All for some ice cream.

He sighed. Since there were around 140 children at the orphanage, all to be at the party, Diefenbaker would no doubt be extremely ill-tempered if he didn't get something for behaving nicely around so many children. "Cupboard love," Ben muttered, putting his Stetson back on and pulling it down firmly. "Ingrate. I'm just trying to keep him in proper shape, and this is the thanks I get."

Just then the kitchen door opened and a kitchen helper appeared with a handtruck. He seemed a bit startled upon being confronted with a Mountie in dress reds and 50 gallons of ice cream. Ben smiled politely. "Would you care for some help with this lot?"

He was to remember this distinctly, later, as the last peaceful moment of the day.

*****

The Riviera screeched to a halt in front of the orphanage, and Ray glared out at the steps leading up to the entrance. The wolf began to bound towards the car, but the red-jacketed figure didn't immediately move. Ray honked the horn and leaned towards the open passenger window. "Hey! Fraser! Any century now!"

The statuesque figure came to life with a jerk and approached the Riv somewhat reluctantly, it seemed. Ray frowned; what the hell was wrong with Fraser now?

As the Mountie came closer, Ray's eyes widened. He almost protested, thinking of the Riv's upholstery again, then reconsidered at seeing Benny's expression. Stunned? Nooo. No, it was more of a...a lost look. That was it; lost.

Not a word was exchanged as Fraser got into the car and sat down, Dief bouncing bright-eyed into the back seat. Ray finally removed his eyes from his friend and eased the car out onto the street. He figured Benny could use some gentle handling at the moment. He didn't think he'd ever seen the impeccable Mountie in quite this condition before. He didn't think he'd ever imagined seeing Fraser in this condition, no matter what had happened. It simply wasn't possible.

Several minutes of silence ensued. Finally the suspense became too much for Ray. "Benny?"

A pair of rather dazed blue eyes met his quick glance. "Yes, Ray?"

"Benny, I'm almost afraid to ask...but why is your Stetson wet and floppy?"

"Wet?" Ben glanced down at the bedraggled hat and blinked. "Oh. Well, er--it was the caramel, Ray. And the chocolate. Sister Christopher tried to wash it off, but I'm afraid that only spread it around more, and ruined the crush..." His voice trailed off, the dazed expression returning.

"Ah," Ray said, still somewhat at a loss. "You wouldn't care to explain how the caramel got on your hat? Or the holes? Are those teeth marks?? Wolf teeth marks?"

Benton thought this one over for a minute. "No, Ray, I don't believe I would. Not at the moment."

"Okay. What's the story on your jacket?"

"Er. Yes. Well, you see, several of the children seem to be budding artists, and had felt pens."

Ray manfully repressed a snicker. "What, they thought you made a good substitute for a wall?"

"No, actually Ray, they were supposed to be working on a mural. I just seem to have gotten in the way at an inopportune moment."

"Riiiight," Ray drawled, giving up the chance to go through a light on yellow. He wanted a moment to study Benny's jacket. Was that really a drawing of Bullwinkle he'd caught a brief glimpse of as Ben had gotten in the car? "Cartoonists; I see. Did they manage Rocky, too?"

"I believe they did, Ray." Fraser seemed to be coming a little more to life. He glanced down, winced, and returned his eyes to the far horizon. "If by that you mean the flying squirrel-?"

"Yeah." Ray was trying hard not to snicker, but couldn't resist a jab. "I told ya."

The dark head nodded. "Yes, you did."

Ray gave a more sympathetic glance to the stains on the jacket and the uniform pants, which appeared to be solidly wet. "And, the, uhh--other stuff?"

Another wince. "That was the food fight, I'm afraid."

"The food fight," Ray repeated carefully. "With a nun in charge?!"

Ben hesitated. "Well, you see, Ray, Sister Christopher and the other nuns had to leave to check on a few arrangements..."

"Uh-oh."

"Yes, and I was left in charge for a few minutes."

"Uh-oh!"

"There shouldn't have been any problems."

Silence.

"All I had to do was keep them occupied with their ice cream."

More silence.

"And since one of the most popular flavors was named 'Caramel Caribou,' I naturally thought the children might enjoy a brief informational talk about caribou."

Meaningful silence.

"They did seem to be happily engrossed in eating the ice cream..."

Even more meaningful silence.

"They were listening quite politely, and asked a few intelligent questions."

Disbelieving silence and an incredulous glance.

"Well, Ray, I wasn't prepared for some young rowdy to suddenly jump up and yell 'AAAaaaaahhh, we're eating Santa's reindeer!'" Defensively.

A muffled snort emanated from Ray.

"I tried to reassure the children that caribou weren't precisely reindeer, and that they certainly weren't made of caramel or ice cream, but-"

There was a snicker from the driver's side.

"Really, Ray, that's quite uncalled for. It wasn't as if I deliberately brought up reindeer, it's simply that I was explaining the common misconception about the two species, and that's when this one child screamed and threw his bowl of ice cream at me."

Poor Ray nearly drove the Riv into a telephone pole. He swerved to the curb and slammed on the brakes, exploding into helpless laughter. After several minutes he finally calmed to an occasional sputter, and noticed the icy chill coming from his passenger.

Ray looked at Fraser and tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, Benny; it's just the thought of you in a roomful of kids throwing-" No good. He went off again. The Mountie's expression grew even more...expressionless. It was a good five minutes before Ray managed to wheeze to a halt. He rummaged futilely in his pockets, finding nothing. A hand holding a rather damp handkerchief appeared in front of his face; he grabbed and mopped, still snickering occasionally.

"Thanks Benny." He passed the handkerchief back.

"Are you quite done?"

Ray sighed. "Yeah, Benny, I think I'm pretty well laughed out. I'm sorry. Did they all get a shot in?" He sneaked a careful sideways glance. Benny didn't look quite so upset now. That little quirk was tugging at one side of his mouth.

The tone was rueful. "Well, yes. Pretty much. I was able to duck some of the other flavors, but as the Caramel Caribou was the most popular-"

"Caramel, huh?"

"Yes, Ray. Toffee ice cream with swirls of caramel and chocolate caramel cups. Quite good, actually, although I didn't eat any."

Ray bit his lip. "No? Uh, Benny...then how-?"

Fraser blushed. "Well, you see, one of the bowls got me right in the face, Ray. Good aim on the child's part, considering how old she appeared to be."

"Ah?"

This time it was Ben's turn for a sidelong glance. "Well, she was rather young, Ray. Normally children of five or younger don't have quite the coordination necessary to throw something as unwieldy as a bowl of ice cream so as to hit the target with the ice cream impacting first."

"Ah," Ray said wisely. Maybe he was getting the hang of this 'ah' bit; it did seem to come in handy on occasion. He stayed silent, hoping. He was in luck.

"Although, of course, the bowls were Styrofoam, which was fortunate. If they had been crockery and the bowl had hit first, I could have sustained a rather nasty injury. The, er, child in question has quite a throwing arm."

"Mmmmhmmm," Ray hummed. Now he was biting the inside of his cheek. At this rate he was going to sustain some rather nasty injuries himself.

"But while it didn't do any damage, it did cause me to stagger back and sit down rather suddenly on the floor. That brought me into closer proximity to the children, which naturally meant their aim improved."

"Mmmmmm." It would have been a squeak if he'd dared to try talking.

"Plus every time I attempted to open my mouth, they seemed to take that as a signal to aim for it...and of course I couldn't see with ice cream covering my eyes."

"Mmmmmmphmm."

"So I inadvertently did manage to taste that, ahh, particular ice cream on my face. Until Diefenbaker attempted to assist me by licking it off. Unfortunately, he attacked the problem rather more enthusiastically than absolutely necessary, thereby knocking me flat on my back. Naturally, if I'd been aware of his approach, I could have prepared for his, er, assault; but being that the children, in an over-excited state, had become somewhat shrill, I didn't hear him over their noise. Equally naturally, with ice cream covering my eyes, I couldn't see him, either."

Ray nodded. He didn't dare open his mouth; he was wondering if it was safe to breathe.

"Then when Sister Christopher returned-"

Vecchio lost it again. This time he didn't even attempt to control it. He howled, leaned his head against the steering wheel, and shook helplessly for several minutes. Every time he seemed ready to stop, he'd open his eyes, see Fraser, and start up again. Ben thought seriously about getting out and walking, but that would be conceding defeat. He gritted his teeth and waited. Politely.

At long last the cop straightened up, wheezing again, and fastened his hands on the wheel. "Ok-k-kay, Benny," he gasped, still chuckling. "We'd better get you home; you've had enough excitement for one day off."

"Thank you kindly, Ray." The tone was not encouraging.

Ray appeared to have gotten the hint; he stayed mostly silent all the way back to West Racine, not even responding to Dief's occasional muffled comment from the back seat. Ben studiously ignored his wolf and stared straight ahead. He thanked Ray again when he left the car, automatically starting to replace his hat; then he lowered it, seeing the droopy mass of felt that had been a perfectly-blocked Stetson. "Oh my," he sighed as the Riv squealed off, then headed inside, climbing the stairs with less than his usual energy. He was surprisingly tired. Well, even though they were children, perhaps dealing with 140 of them could be expected to have that effect...

Dief trotted past him, sat down as he closed the door, and fastened a commanding gaze on Ben. Ben frowned.

"No; you'll just have to put up with it."

Whine.

"Well, that's entirely your fault, now isn't it?"

Higher whine.

Ben frowned even more and put his ruined hat down on the kitchen table. "Yes, I can certainly refill your water dish. And feed you. But anything else you'll simply have to deal with yourself. Although one would think that you'd have no appetite left at all, considering how much ice cream you consumed today."

Almost a growl.

"No, I refuse. It will dissolve eventually. Maybe next time you'll think before gulping down large amounts of ice cream with caramel cups in it. I can't help it if your teeth are stuck together! Besides, it's only temporary. You'll simply have to live with it for a while."

Definitely a growl.

Ben turned around from the sink and positively glared. "Well, it's no more than you deserve!"

Another growl.

Ben practically dropped the water bowl on the floor and angrily dumped some kibble into the food dish, then stalked over to sit on the window sill, still glaring at Diefenbaker. "I'm not speaking to you, and you know why. The idea!"

Growl. Apologetic whine.

"I don't care what you say, you're going to have to deal with it yourself. You only have yourself to blame. And I am not sulking over my hat!" Fraser turned to stare out the window.

Muttered grumbling, then slurping, dripping sounds; sounds that resembled something with its mouth glued shut trying to drink, rather messily.

Ben turned his gaze back to the kitchen. "You do too deserve it. I don't see how you could have even thought of doing it. It's against all proper behavior and tradition. Not to mention respect! How would you feel in my place? First getting caught in the middle of a food fight and being romped all over by some 140 pairs of feet, not to mention your four paws? To finally manage to clear my eyes enough to see not only the extent of the damage to my uniform and the room, plus the children's clothes--only to be met with the utterly appalling sight of that!"

Another apologetic whine.

Benton wasn't having any of it; he didn't release the wolf from his stare. He did, however, make sure to have the last word.

"You won't starve to death. You'll be able to open your jaws in another few minutes. Besides," he rather bitterly informed Dief, "you should suffer a little from this, too. It can't be salvaged; especially with the holes in it. That's all your fault; you can't blame it on me." He turned to address his last words to the cityscape outside. "After all; I wasn't the one playing Frisbee with my hat!"