Moonlight Serenade	  Moonlight Serenade 

Tonight was the night. He'd prepared for this for weeks, and finally he
felt that he was ready. Tonight he was going to claim the man he loved.
Now that the time had arrived, he wondered how he'd managed, working
beside him day after day without being able to reveal how much he loved
him...	

Everything had to be perfect. He'd had the red serge tunic specially
dry-cleaned. He'd polished his belts and taken extra care to ensure the
buckles were gleaming. Even the lanyard had been whitened. He smiled. He
didn't care that Maintenant le Droit was the official RCMP motto... The
Mounties always got their man. And tonight he was going to get his.  

He picked up the guitar case. He knew he had a good voice, but he'd gone
to extraordinary lengths to make sure everything would be flawless. Even
taking a few lessons to be sure he had his song perfectly prepared. It was
a beautiful song, one that would melt the hardest of hearts. He couldn't
fail with it.  

He checked once more in the mirror to make sure that his lanyard was
straight, his buttons shining and not a hair out of place. Perfect. He
smiled nervously at himself and left.  * 

In the darkened room there was only the sound of quiet breathing.
Occasionally there would come the sound of traffic passing, or sometimes a
pedestrian or two. Then from the street came a pleasant baritone voice
singing.  

"Feeeeelings... nothing more than feeeeeelings..."  

Ray woke and pushed himself up on one elbow, listening. Then he nudged the
bare shoulder beside him.  

"Mmm? What is it, Ray?"  

"Just some poor love-struck schmuck." Ray's voice was complacent,
conveniently forgetting that only a week ago he would have had to say
"some OTHER poor love-struck schmuck". It was only three days since he and
Ben had managed to stammer out their love, and since then there hadn't
been much talking at all when they were together...  

"That's nice, Ray." Ben reached up an arm and pulled Ray down again.  

"Makes you feel romantic, huh Benny?"  

"Very romantic..."  *  

In a corner of the room Dief looked over his shoulder mournfully. They
were doing it AGAIN! Not that he minded them mating, but they insisted on
doing it in the bed. It used to be HIS bed... Even that wouldn't have been
so bad if it hadn't been for the way the springs squeaked when they were
doing it. Enough to make him wish he really was deaf.  

He buried his muzzle under his paws. That noise made his teeth ache...	* 

The creaking from the bed had taken on a certain rhythmic quality. There
were other noises coming from that direction too, but they were more...
organic. The singer came to the end of the song. There was a pause. Then a
voice drifted up from the street.  

"Oh, Benton... It's me, my love... Renfield."  

A head suddenly appeared from under the blankets. "What the hell?"  

From under the covers there was a slightly muffled, very breathless "oh
dear".	

"Benny, who the hell is Renfield? And why is he singing you love songs in
the middle of the night?"  

Ben managed to wriggle out from under the covers. "I have no idea why he's
doing it, Ray. As for who... it's Turnbull."  

"Right!" Ray was out of the bed and over to the window at a speed that
would have made Magic Johnson weep with frustration if he'd been there to
see it. Ben was left breathless. He'd always thought Ray had nice feet,
he'd caught a glimpse of them once when they'd been trapped in the bank
vault and he'd never been able to entirely forget them. Lovely and
slender, with long toes that wriggled nicely when Ben made love to him... 


But when he used one of those feet, firmly planted in the region of Ben's
solar plexus, to propel himself across the room, the results were... well,
rather unpleasant. Blinking back tears and gasping for breath, Ben was
still able to enjoy the sight of Ray's undeniably attractive ass as he
bent over to open the window and stick his head out.  *  

Turnbull carefully put the guitar back into its case. The next move was to
climb up the fire escape to his love. He'd seen Pretty Woman... he knew
what was expected of a lover...  

He'd been a little disappointed that the light hadn't come on in Benton's
apartment, but he was quite sure that he'd be there. Before leaving the
Consulate, he'd made a remark about getting an early night, and Turnbull
had known that it was a sign... possibly even a hint.  

As he straightened, Turnbull saw a movement in THAT window. Suddenly his
heart began to beat faster as the window was pushed up. Then a head poked
through the gap and Turnbull saw, not the beautiful face of his beloved,
but the irregular and most unloved features of Detective Raymond Vecchio.
His heart plummeted. Of all the nights to invite his unpleasant friend to
visit, why had Benton picked tonight? Vecchio terrified him.  

"What the hell do ya think you're doing, you moron? It's the middle of the
night. Stop that caterwauling and go AWAY!"  

Turnbull felt his face flushing. He was feeling horribly embarrassed now
and was tempted just to run away, but his love for Benton was too powerful
to be thwarted even by the terrible Vecchio. A Mountie always gets his
man, he told himself. He drew himself up to his full height and lifted his
chin nobly.  

"You go away! You're not worthy to be the friend of the most wonderful man
in the world. The man I love! I came here to tell him of my love and I'm
not going away until he promises to be mine. So there!"  

Turnbull was vaguely aware that the ending of his declaration was somewhat
lacking, but he didn't let himself be put off by that. Besides he was a
man of action rather than words. He crossed the road and prepared to climb
up the fire escape. What happened next was more horrible than anything he
could ever have imagined.  

There was a shriek, in a language he didn't understand, and then Vecchio
erupted out of the window to stand on the fire escape, completely naked
and in a state of some... excitement. Turnbull hurriedly lifted a hand to
cover his eyes.  * 

Inside the apartment, Ben had recovered from being winded, but he wasn't
for a moment considering intervening in the very loud altercation being
carried on between Ray and Turnbull. For one thing, he'd have to try to
find some clothes and if his memory served they were scattered all over
the apartment. Besides Ray was already out there, stark naked. From the
sound of it, he was being cheered on by most of the apartment building's
occupants. Only a few of them had sided with Turnbull.	

Not that Turnbull was getting much of a chance to speak as Ray screamed at
him in English and Italian. Ben didn't speak Italian, but he knew some
Latin, and he was able to make sense of quite a bit of what Ray was
saying. He rather wished that he hadn't been able to. Even in the dark he
knew that his face must be bright red. Rationally, he knew that he
couldn't possibly die of embarrassment, but if ever there was a case for
terminal humiliation, this was it... he'd have to leave for work via the
fire escape tomorrow. He certainly couldn't risk meeting any of his
neighbours.  

It was beginning to sound as if the fight was dying down. Turnbull was
obviously losing ground as Ray hurled Italian insults and English threats
at him. His voice was betraying his uncertainty and a few moments later he
fled.  

Ray clambered back in through the window, obviously pleased with himself.
"The nerve of that guy! Trying to make a move on MY man. I oughta kick his
butt all the way back to Canada. Just you stay away from him, Benny. Us
Italians don't take kindly to being messed around with."  

By this time he was back in the bed. Ben gasped at the touch of his
chilled body... and other things...  

He sighed. "Oh, Ray..."  

"Yeah, Benny?"	

"I love it when you're so... masterful."  

Dief snorted in disgust.  *  ~~~~Commercial Break~~~~  

This is a public service announcement (whatever that is).  

A fund has been set up to campaign to have that wonderful song "Feelings"
made the official song of love-struck Mounties everywhere. If you would
like to support this worthwhile cause please e-mail your pledges to:
feelings@lovesick.com. You will get a reply e-mail advising a snail mail
address you can send your money to. Please send only US currency in small
denomination, non-sequentially numbered bills.	

PS: Mitch, i promise i'll split it 50/50..... Whaddaya MEAN ya don't
believe me!  

You may now return to your regular viewing, i mean reading..... 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

There was an unusual air of tension at the Consulate next morning. Dief,
wisely, was spending as much time as possible hiding under Ovitz's desk.
And he didn't even like Ovitz. Most of the staff were feeling on edge
though none of them knew why. Unconsciously, they all were avoiding both
Constable Fraser's office and Constable Turnbull's desk...  *  

Ben had a sense of impending doom. He was trying to be charitable, but
Turnbull's behaviour could only be described as sulky. They had come into
contact on three occasions. Neither of them had been able to meet the
other's eyes, and they had muttered whatever words had been absolutely
necessary and parted with relief, on Ben's part at least. Still, he had
the feeling that something was going to happen.  *  

Turnbull had hardly been able to bring himself to go to work that day.
After an almost sleepless night, he had decided that he should. He would
show his beloved Benton that HE, not that awful Vecchio, was worthy to be
his lover. But as soon as he set eyes on his idol, he knew that Benton had
also had a sleepless night. And certainly not for the same reason. How
could he have let that... that... person back into his bed after his
disgusting display last night?	

He thought about it all morning and his sense of grievance increased. He
was even beginning to wonder if Benton was really the paragon of
perfection he had always thought him to be. But he pushed that thought
aside. His beloved was simply being too generous to an undeserving wretch,
Turnbull would somehow enlighten him. And then Benton would realise that
he had, temporarily, overlooked the true love of his life...  

Afterwards, he still felt it might have worked, if Benton hadn't goaded
him beyond mortal endurance...	

There was more paperwork today than he would have thought possible, even
for a consulate, and he knew he wasn't doing a very good job of it today.
His mind simply wasn't on his job. The last thing he wanted was to have to
go to Benton's office again, but he knew that he had to take this to a
superior and the only other option was Inspector Thatcher. That wasn't an
option he wanted to consider. If women scared him, his terror at the sight
of the Inspector was second only to his terror of Ray Vecchio.	

He knocked timidly on Benton's door. So timidly that it was unlikely that
the light of his life even heard him. He had to acknowledge that in all
fairness. But it could have been deliberate too. Too nervous to knock
again, he pushed the door open. That's when he heard the most beautiful
voice in the world...  

"...of course I do, Ray... ...No everything's fine, he hasn't said a word.
I told you he wouldn't." Benton's voice dropped to a sexy murmur. "Are you
coming over tonight? ...oh good. Maybe we can... you know... what we did
last night? Did you like it when I... oh God, Ray... I love it when you
talk like that."  

He peeked around the door. Benton was leaning conspiratorially into the
phone, his eyes half closed, his cheeks flushed. Talking to Vecchio! And
like that too! It was just too much to bear. With an enraged growl, that
somehow ended up sounding more like a squeak, he flung himself into the
office.  * 

Ben glanced up when Turnbull stumbled into the office. He had a handful of
papers that he was waving urgently.  

"Ray, I'm sorry, I've got to go. See you tonight."  

He barely had time to hang up the phone when Turnbull half fell across his
desk. Ben snatched the papers from his hand.  

"Thank you Turnbull. I'll take care of these."	

Turnbull straightened, but he didn't leave. Ben looked up at him.  

"Is there something else, Turnbull?"  

"Arrgghhh! How can you? How can you have anything to do with that...
that..." He stuttered, lost for words.	

Ben stood, his face becoming stern. "Please lower your voice Turnbull."  

"I won't! I won't!" Turnbull was almost stamping his feet in his rage.
"Come out from behind that desk and fight me like a man!"  

Ben kept his cool. "I have no intention of fighting you, Constable. Will
you please calm down."	

Turnbull ground his teeth and lunged for him, arms flailing. Nobody was
more surprised than he, when one of the wild punches he was throwing
actually connected.  *	

It wasn't a very hard punch, but Ben wondered how he was going to explain
a bruise on his cheekbone to Ray without precipitating a major incident.
Then he realised that the major incident might be happening sooner than
tonight. Turnbull wailed loudly and dropped to his knees on the floor
beside his desk.  

"Turnbull, stop this at once!" He hurried from behind the desk and bent
over the unfortunate young man. "Pull yourself together."  

"Oh Benton, forgive me! Please say you forgive me, my darling!" Turnbull
wrapped his arms around Ben's thigh and pressed his tear streaked face
into the dark blue serge, sobbing pitifully.  

"Of course I'll forgive you." He patted the heaving shoulder rather
gingerly. "If you get up off the floor and stop making this noise." he
added hastily, as Turnbull looked up hopefully.  

The flushed and rather unpleasantly moist face crumpled again and Turnbull
began to sob noisily against his hip. Just when Ben thought nothing worse
could happen to him, Inspector Thatcher walked in.  

"What is all this noise about? They can hear you in Reception, you know."
She stopped short at the sight before her. "What is going on here?" Her
voice had become icy.  

"Ah, Sir! Constable Turnbull is a little upset, Sir..." He couldn't think
of anything to explain this. Turnbull was still clinging to his leg in a
manner uncomfortably reminiscent of Mrs Pumputis' late and, by him at
least, unlamented Pekinese.  

"And why is he upset?"	

"Ah... umm... I don't really know Sir."  

Turnbull turned his face to his superior. "He's forsaken me, to consort
with that... that..."  

"Consort with who, Fraser?"  

"ah... I think he's referring...."  

"...Vecchio..."  

"....ummm, yes... but really, Sir..."  

"....on the fire escape...." Turnbull's voice was rising to a wail.  

Oh dear... "Sir, could I just..."  

"...NAKED..." Turnbull hiccuped morosely, then sobbed a couple more times
just for effect.  

"Constable Turnbull! Pull yourself together!" Thatcher's voice was
implacable. Turnbull stared at her, rather like a squirrel confronted by a
set of headlights. She put her head out of the door, surprising the rest
of her staff who were all hanging around listening. "Cooper. In here."	

The cadet's eyes widened when he saw the scene in Ben's office.  

"Cooper, kindly take Constable Turnbull to the bathroom and help him to...
tidy himself up. Constable Fraser. My office. Now."  *	

To say she was annoyed was an understatement. Meg had never liked Vecchio,
he was trouble. She'd known that from the moment she first set eyes on
him. And now it seemed he was causing trouble among her staff when he
wasn't even there. Vecchio on a fire escape? Naked? And what the hell was
Turnbull doing there anyway?  

She shut the door to her office firmly, cutting off any escape for the man
who was responsible for Vecchio entering her life.  

"What is going on Fraser?"  

"Ah.... well...."  

"Spit it out."	

"Well, Sir... umm... that is to say... I believe...."  

"What happened? Just tell me, Constable."  

"Turnbull seems to have... ah.... misunderstood... that's right!" He gave
her a harried look. "Misunderstood a, ummm... situation... involving
myself and Det. Vecchio..."  

"And that situation would be?"	

"Oh! Umm... Det. Vecchio was visiting.... you see, he... ummm, no
perhaps..."  

"Visiting? The Consulate? Your apartment?"  

"Yes, Sir. That's right... because... ah, because he couldn't go home..." 


She simply stared at him.  

"He couldn't go home because... umm... because there were visitors..."	

"At your apartment."  

"Yes! I mean, no! No... the visitors were at his house... family... lots
of them... noisy..." He trailed off, looking at her helplessly.  

Just for the hell of it, she decided to go along with it. "So he was
staying at your apartment."  

Fraser beamed at her. "Yes. On the couch, of course... sleeping I mean...
I thought I should offer... ...in the interests of American-Canadian
relations, of course..." He seemed to regret that last phrase and shut his
mouth rather suddenly.	

She didn't remember seeing a couch at his apartment the one time she'd
visited. He could always have got one she supposed... "So what was he
doing on the fire escape? Naked?"  

"Well... He objected to Turnbull's singing..."	

"Turnbull's singing, Fraser?"  

His cheeks flamed even brighter. "Yes... ah... he was singing...
outside... it WAS rather late, you see and... well... Det Vecchio
objected."  

"Why was Turnbull singing outside your apartment, Fraser?"  

He kept his mouth shut and shook his head slowly, his eyes wide and
innocent.  

There was a light tap on her door. Fraser looked intensely relieved.  

"What is it?"  

Cooper stuck his head around the door. "Sir? What do you want me to do
with Constable Turnbull now, Sir?"  

She sighed. Turnbull wasn't much use at the best of times. "He can have
the rest of the day off. Please escort him home."  

"Yes, Sir!"  

The door closed behind him. Just as she was about to start interrogating
Fraser again, Turnbull's voice drifted through the door.  

"You know, Cooper, you have the most lovely eyes..."  

"Holey-moley!"	

She sighed again. Cooper had sounded rather pleased. Were ALL the men
under her command gay? American-Canadian relations, for God's sake... She
looked at Fraser, still standing rigidly to attention and decided she
couldn't be bothered.  

"Oh, go home..."  

"But, Sir. It's only..."  

"I don't care. Go home. I might as well shut the Consulate down for the
rest of the day. God knows we're not going to get anything done today with
all this going on. I think I'll go somewhere and get drunk."  *  

"Do you think she's guessed Ray? About us, I mean?"  

Ray grinned at him affectionately. "I think that's a possibility, Benny." 


"Oh, dear."  

It was still fairly early... he'd walked over to the Precinct. It hadn't
been difficult to convince Ray to leave early, and they'd come back to the
apartment and, well, enjoyed their afternoon off... Then he'd told Ray all
about what had happened at the Consulate. They'd had other things on their
minds at first.  

"Relax, Benny. It doesn't sound like she's gonna do anything. You know."  

Ben touched his cheek. "So you don't mind?"  

"Not as long as she leaves you alone. At least now she won't be expecting
you to chase after her." And that was a bonus as far as Ray was concerned.
He'd been a little worried about that. He'd never expected anything like
Turnbull, though. What a dick-head. And that reminded him of something
he'd wanted to ask Benny.  

"Hey Benny."  

"Mmm?"	

"I've been wondering... what do you call... you know?"	

Ben frowned slightly. "No, I don't know, Ray... what do I call what?"  

Ray looked at him in surprise. He leaned over and whispered in Ben's ear. 


"Really? I didn't know that."  

Ben seemed to be genuine. He should have known. "Yeah, every guy does it."
 

"Well, not EVERY guy, Ray. I don't"  

"Well, OK. Every guy but you."	

"How do you know this, Ray? Have you asked other guys?"  

Ray sat up in a rush. "No! What do you think I am? I just know." He eyed
Ben frustratedly. "Look, just forget I mentioned it, OK?"  

"OK." Long pause... "Does that mean that you...?"  

"Yes!"	

Silence.  

A hand sneaked around Ray's waist and veered downwards. It found an
obstacle in its path and grasped it firmly. Ray dropped back onto the bed.
Another hand joined the first.	

"What do you call yours, Ray?"	

"I'm not telling."  

"I really think you should, Ray. It's only polite to introduce your
friends, after all..."	

"No. You'll laugh."  

A pair of soft lips brushed across his mouth. "I promise I won't."  

"No, Benny."  

The hands stopped all motion. "Well, I can't go on... you realise that. It
wouldn't be polite."  

"I can only tell you mine if you tell me yours."  

"But I told you, I don't have one."  

"Well, then." He pushed against the still hands and they were withdrawn
completely. "Benny!"  

"Well, if it's that important, you could give me one."	

Ray looked at him consideringly. "OK, I guess I could." He grinned at the
thought of it. "I can't believe this."	

"Are you going to tell me?"  

Ray started to giggle. "Dead-eye."  

"Dead-eye?"  

"Yeah, didn't you ever watch cartoons?"  

"No, Ray."  

Ray giggled harder. "He was a private eye... Dead-eye Dick."  

"Oh..." Understanding dawned in Ben's eyes. He started to giggle too.
"That's very clever, Ray."  

"You sure you never gave yours a name, Benny? What did you call it when
you had to talk about it?"  

"I called it my penis, Ray."  

"Oh."  

"Well, Ray?"  

"Oh, OK... Don't you have any ideas?"  

Ben waited patiently. Ray thought about it. Suddenly it seemed very
important that he get it right. He tried to think of a good Canadian name.
Damn, it was harder than he'd expected. Then he got it. He smiled
brilliantly at his lover.  

"Dudley."  

"Dudley, Ray?"	

"Yeah, you know... Dudley Do-Right... because..."  

"Oh, now that is such a cultural stereo..."  

Ray put a hand over his mouth until he halted. "...because he does right
by me..."  

Ben sighed happily. "You're such a romantic, Ray."  *  

It was late, and the apartment was dark. This time there was no singing to
disturb the creaking noises coming from the bed. Dief thought about
howling at the moon, but it wasn't worth the trouble he'd get for it
later. Eventually the creaking noises stopped and all he could hear was
two sets of lungs breathing quietly.  

Ray smiled contentedly in his sleep. He'd woken up the last few days with
a ferocious backache, but he'd discovered a remedy for that. He simply
sprawled face down on top of Ben. Ben didn't seem to mind. Between their
bodies Dudley and Dead-eye snuggled together sleepily.