Yank Yank by Journey 
 

 Yank
 by 
 Journey 

 A PWP 

 Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski 

 Rating: NC-17 almost 

 Notes: I wrote this in response to a challenge that I posed to another
writer to write a totally new story about our boys for 30-45 minutes,
utilizing a toilet plunger. Well, I wrote for 45 minutes but never
actually got to the plunger. Maybe next time. Thanks to Gearbox for the
title. You are so cool, chick. 

 This for dr, who not only plays along with me when I'm like this but says
she enjoys it. 

 Feedback gratefully accepted at: Jayheffus@yahoo.com 

 
 

 "JahearboutJenkins?" 

 Fraser turned his head from the window and looked at his partner.
"I'msorry?" 

 Ray shook his head and removed the toothpick he'd been chewing from his
mouth, then enuciated more clearly, "Did you hear about Jenkins?" 

 Fraser was still blank. "Officer Dan Jenkins? The uniformed patrolman?" 

 "Yeah, Fraser. Officer Dan Jenkins, the uniformed patrolman, did you
hearwhat happened to him?" 

 "Last night, you mean?" 

 "Yeah, last night. So, you heard already?" 

 "I've heard nothing whatsoever Ray. As you know, I haven't been at
theprecinct at all today until you picked me up for this stake-out." 

 "Then, why'd you say..." 

 "Well, Ray I merely ascertained from your comment that something had
happened to Officer Jenkins between the last time I'd seen him, which was
yesterday afternoon, and now when you mentioned it and the most logical
explanation was that something had happened last night. It's simple
deductive reasoning, as I'm sure you are aware, since you yourself use
this kind of reasoning," Fraser stopped talking, but then was forced to
add, "from time to time" to satisfy his internal requirement for honesty. 

 "All *right*, Fraser." 

 Ah. Now Ray was irritated. Fraser sighed and waited for more information
regarding Officer Jenkins. When none was forthcoming he ventured, "So what
happened?" 

 "Figured you could ascertain that for yourself, Fraser." Ray's sarcastic
tone gnawed at Fraser but he refrained from comment. And eventually,
silence won out. "He was seen last night." 

 "Doing what?" 

 "Dancing." 

 Fraser waited but to no avail. "Well, dancing is hardly something
that..." 

 "Wasn't the dancing, Fraser. It was where he was dancing, and who with." 

 "With whom," Fraser corrected automatically. 

 "Another guy, that's with whom." Ray put the toothpick back into his
mouth and chewed on it again while staring out the front window. 

 "Ah." Fraser rubbed his eyebrow and sighed. "What happened exactly?" 

 "Couple of guys from Vice had a tip about drugs going down in the alley
behind this gay bar called The Nineties. Some came at it from the back and
some went in the front through the bar. That's where he was, that's where
they saw him." 

 "Dancing in a bar is no crime, Ray." 

 "That is true, Fraser, so's long as you're not a cop dancing and rubbing
up against your guy partner in a gay bar." 

 Fraser feigned a tone of confusion. "Rubbing up, Ray?" 

 Ray's quick glance gave evidence of his suspicion, but Fraser kept his
face carefully blank. "You know, Fraser, hip action in front and hand
action in the back." The movement of Ray's hips that accompanied this
explanation was exceedingly graphic. 

 "Ah, yes. I believe I do understand, perhaps if you demonstrated that
particular move again I could get a clearer picture..." and Fraser waited,
but evidently his mask wasn't as controlled this time given Ray's
response. 

 "You dumb Canuck. Quit yanking my chain. You know perfectly well what I'm
talking about." Ray's grin was a little embarrassed, but conveyed true
affection. 

 "But your explanations are so illuminating, Ray. I thoroughly enjoy
them." 

 "Enjoy watching me put on a show, you mean. I get you." Ray shoved
Fraser's shoulder playfully and went back to staring out the window. 

 Fraser, too, turned his attention to the seemingly empty building in
front of them. "What will happen to Officer Jenkins?" 

 "Jenkins? Nothing, officially, but he's been outed now and unofficially,
that can lead to some problems." 

 "That would seem to be unfair." 

 "Unfair, maybe, but that's the way it'll be. Most cops don't like the
idea they might be checked out by their own partner, you know? You gotta
trust your partner." Ray twirled the toothpick to the other side of his
mouth. "You ever been checked out by your partner, Fraser?" Casually. 

 Fraser's senses went on alert, but he answered in a measured tone. "Not
that I am aware of. Although there was that one time..." 

 Ray's head whipped around to stare at him. "That one time? What happened,
Fraser?" 

 "I'm sure it was all a misunderstanding on my part, Ray." 

 "Spill it, Fraser. What did you misunderstand?" 

 "Well, on a company tracking and survival exercise, it became necessary
for myself and another Cadet to hole up in a hastily erected snow shelter
when we were overtaken by a blizzard. The snow shelter was perfectly
adequate and not uncomfortable, but Cadet Framm seemed to be experiencing
some sort of ...reaction that caused him to require full body contact for
the duration of the storm. As for his hands grasping my.... well, I'm sure
that was a simple case of mistaken identity during sleep." Fraser felt his
face get red. 

 "So, while you two were holed up in some igloo during a blizzard, this
Framm guy plastered himself to you and groped you. And you can sit there
and tell me you think you've never been hit on by your partner?" 

 "Oh, no, Ray. He never hit me." Fraser went for role of the fool, but he
could tell by his partner's expression, that he wasn't buying it. 

 "Oh, no you don't. Not going get me twice tonight. Not over some
clumsy-light-in-his-red-boots-Mountie-wannabe." 

 "Clumsy?" Fraser heard himself ask. 

 "No style, that's what. He had no style." Ray's hands drummed on the
steering wheel and he rolled the toothpick from side-to-side in his mouth.


 "And how could what you say he did possibly be more...stylish, as you
say?" Fraser asked, carefully choosing his words but unable to look away
from the front window to meet Ray's eyes. 

 "If I were wanting to get my hands on your equipment, I'd be more
subtle." 

 "Why is that?" Fraser concentrated on continuing to breathe. 

 "Because it is obvious to anyone who has talked to you for more than two
minutes, that you, Fraser, are not a casual bump-and-grind kind of guy." 

 "How so?" 

 "Fraser, you blush if someone bats her eyes at you, you shy away from all
but the most innocent physical contact, you are a gentleman. You have
class and politeness and reserve and none of that will be breached by
adolescent fumbling. I bet you just reached down, moved his hand and
returned it to him, all without saying a word." 

 Ray glanced at him from the corner of his eye, but Fraser could not have
found a verbal response inside him if his life had depended on it. 

 "A guy like you, has to be approached gently and sincerely or you're
going to run, or be oblivious, or pretend you don't know what the hell is
going on." 

 "How would you..." Fraser listened to his voice in amazement. What was he
doing? What was Ray doing, what was going on here? 

 "Small touches, light, non-threatening for a long time. So gradually you
come to expect them, not question them. Then maybe I'd up the level a
little, an arm around your shoulder once in a while, offer you a hand to
get up--one that holds on for a little bit, a hug now and again." 

 Fraser felt the small of his back sweating, the perspiration beading on
his forehead. "Then what would you... suggest?" 

 "Then, maybe one day, maybe on a stake-out I'd tell you some story about
a gay cop and then I'd let my hand rest on your knee" and without looking
Ray's hand landed on Fraser's thigh "so you'd have some warning, then
maybe I'd turn and put my hand in your hair," Fraser leaned into the touch
of fingers threading through his hair and his eyes closed involuntarily as
his breath hitched, "and then I'd lean in really close...." Ray's mouth
was centimeters from his, they were breathing the same air.... 

 "Ray, " Fraser whispered and moved forward taking the toothpick out of
Ray's mouth with his lips and letting it drop to the seat between them. 

 "Yeah, Fraser?" Ray whispered back, their lips just brushing. 

 "Ray,....please...you're not just yanking my chain, are you?" Fraser was
not altogether sure he could bear it if Ray backed off, laughed and said
he was. 

 A deathly silence fell. 

 "Fraser...." 

 "Ray," Fraser closed his eyes not wanting to see his greatest fear
confirmed by Ray's face. 

 "Fraser..." Ray said again. "It's not your chain I want to yank." And
then those lips were on his. 

 Fraser moaned and brought his own hands up to cup Ray's face and deepen
the kiss, sliding his tongue through Ray's lips. 

 Ray moaned and climbed over the parking brake to plaster himself to
Fraser. 

 "Ray." Another kiss. "Ray." Another kiss. "Ray!" Fraser turned his head
and looked at the clock. "Our shift is over." 

 "Thank God," said Ray and went back to what he was doing. 

 "Ray. Detectives Huey and Dewey...Oh, my that feels...will be here
soon...God, do that again...and if we don't want to be another story for
someone else to tell...Mmmm...I suggest you stop what you are doing and we
move on to a more private space." 

 "Fraser. Anybody ever tell you, you talk too much?" Ray climbed back up
Fraser's chest to his mouth and latched on. After another series of wet,
open-mouthed kisses, that left Fraser panting, he continued, However,
you're right." Ray launched himself back to the driver's seat just as the
lights from Huey and Dewey's car approached. They waved and Ray started
the car. "Hope we can get home before any bad weather hits." 

 "If it does, I'll build us a snow shelter."