Hockey Night in Chicago   

  Completed November 29, 1998
 Posted to Due South Archive February 17, 1999
   

 This story was written in answer to a challenge on the DIEF mailing list
to write a story of 500 words containing the following items:  

 Two Due South characters
 Ice
 Packing peanuts
 Something sticky
 A feather duster
  

   

 DISCLAIMER: Benton Fraser and Ray Vecchio belong to Alliance Television
and Paul Haggis. They are being used without permission, and without
profit. No infringement on the rights of the owners is intended.  

 NOTES: This story takes place soon after the events of the episode "The
Blue Line."  

 RATED PG  

 "Hockey Night in Chicago" 
 by Dorothy Marley 
 demarley@yahoo.com
  

   

 Ray sat in the stands beside the little rink, watching Fraser and
Smithbauer glide across the ice. It was clear, even to his inexperienced
eye, that Fraser was hopelessly outclassed, but he was still holding his
own out there. At least, he was until a well-timed swerve from Smithbauer
dumped him neatly on his butt.	

 Beside Ray, Diefenbaker sat up, and made an inquiring noise in his
throat, but a cheerful hail and wave from Fraser settled him down again.
"I'm with you," Ray told the wolf. "Any sport played on ice is asking for
it." Which is why Ray was sitting in the stands, freezing his buns off and
slowly congealing to the soda puddle on the floor instead of being down
there getting his ass kicked by a couple of insane Canadians.  

 Still, Fraser seemed to be enjoying himself, scrambling gamely to his
feet and chasing after Mark's fleeing form with all the speed he could
muster. Mark scored without any interference, and turned to wait for
Fraser, grinning broadly. Fraser skated in beside him, and the two men
glided in smooth tandem back up the ice, Smithbauer's head bent close to
Fraser's ear, saying something that made the other man laugh.  

 Ray hadn't heard Fraser laugh much lately. And for about a second, Ray
was so intensely jealous of Mark Smithbauer that it made his chest ache.
Then Fraser laughed again, and Ray felt the sick tightness ease. Who
cared? So long as Benny laughed, who cared who made him do it, or why?	

 He did.  

   

 It took Ray nearly a week to find what he needed, and the damn box
weighed a ton by the time he got it to Fraser's door. Fraser was cleaning
when Ray came in, carefully whisking a feather duster over the books on
his shelf. The duster, Ray couldn't help but notice, looked a little
ragged, and the stray feathers around Dief's snout showed that the wolf
had, apparently, been trying to be helpful in the matter of enticingly
wielded cleaning equipment.  

 "Ray!" Fraser put the duster down, coming to help Ray with the door, and
staggered back a pace as Ray thrust the box into his arms.  

 "Here," Ray said bluntly. "This is for you."  

 Fraser blinked at him, puzzled. "For me? What's the occasion?"  

 "None." Ray went to the kitchen table and sat. "Just open it, all right?"
 

 "All right." Fraser put the box on the table, and whipped out his knife
to cut through the packing tape. He opened the box, and reached in, the
puzzlement on his face only growing as he lifted the contents out in a
gentle cascade of packing peanuts. "Skates?" he said. "Ray, this is very
thoughtful of you, but I already have--"  

 "The skates aren't for you. They're for me."  

 Now Benny was thoroughly confused. "But you said--"  

 "Yeah." Ray reached out, and took the skates from him. "The skates are
for me, but you're going to teach me how to use them."	

 For a second, Fraser just stared. "Ray, you hate skating. You called it
the stupidest thing any human being could do with a thousand gallons of
water."  

 "I know, but you like it, and who're you going to skate with once Mark
goes back to Canada?" Ray shrugged. "I'm just giving in to the
inevitable."  

 Fraser looked down at the skates, then back up at Ray's face. "Thanks,
Ray," he said quietly, then smiled. A real smile.  

 "My pleasure, Benny."	

 THE END  

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  E-mail: demarley@yahoo.com
 Dorothy's Fiction Page: http://www.nashville.com/~dorothy/marley.htm