thelockbox | Benton Fraser

Because.

[That was reason enough in Ray's mind, especially when it came to trying to argue with Fraser. Because no matter what the reason or what he said, he's certain there'd be some counter to it, some sort of logic that meant he was entirely wrong. Logic sucked.

It's not long before his arms are also folding on the desktop, but his soul reason is to lower even further down and bury his face in arms, a mix of tiredness and annoyance. However he does lift his head eventually, chin perched against his arms as he watches Fraser through a narrowed gaze.]

You got no idea, no idea, what goes on in a place like that, Fraser. It's not for guys like you. They won't believe it for a second. [The briefest of pauses for thought.] Although the uniform might butter a few muffins.

[ There were many rebuffs he could go with, naturally. That clearly the overwhelming theme was discipline, and Fraser had it in spades, that Ray would be surprised what people believed when they wanted to believe in something, that of course they'd be given away if Ray had been laboring over the misconception that Fraser intended to go in uniform--although now he mentioned it...

Instead he just reaches across the desk and pats Ray on the arm. ]

That's why I trust you'll prepare me thoroughly, given your greater insight.

[ He pulls himself up to his feet - not at all creaking in the joints, yawning or anything so uncomfortable - and makes his way around the edge of the desk, heading over to the coffee distiller to fill Ray's mug, and speaking over it while he worked. ]

No reward without risk, Ray.

[And there he goes right back to burying his face in his arms. It's not as though he's against the idea of Fraser learning the finer parts of the world of fetishes, but he's pretty certain he's neither fully qualified or the appropriate guy for this kind of lecture. It's not like Ray has even slept with anyone in recent times let alone done anything... interesting with them.

But Fraser's trying to be reassuring and, as he moves, Ray lifts his head slightly to watch what he's doing.]

You know they gotta dress code just to get in there, right? It's all... all... leather and pvc and, and, and that uh rubber and latex. They're freaks.

[Better and easier to mock than understand and accept. And to never, ever admit whether he's tried any of it out.]

Ergo we already have something in common, as per your perspective on the matter.

[ If he had a Canadian dollar for every time Ray called him a freak, he would be well on the way to saving for his retirement. As he finishes with the coffee, Fraser heads back over to set it on the desk, and leans against the edge beside him. ]

Two things, if you include leather.

[ Though he's well aware from what they've seen so far that his accoutrements barely reflect the leather wearing they'd be expected to partake in. He ducks his chin toward his chest. ]

If it's the expense that concerns you, Ray, I'm more or less certain the clothing could be written off as an expense.

[ Sure. The expense. ]

[Coffee. Now there's a good idea. Why didn't Ray think of that? Sure, it'll keep him up for the rest of the night but it looks like that's going to be happening considering the lack of progress their decision making has made so far. Might as well go in it for the long haul.

He mumbles his thanks and sits up enough to drag the drink towards him and slurp from it with all the manners expected from an American, side eyeing Fraser as he does so.

Leather. Yeah, he guesses that is kind of a prominent thing for Mounties, even when out of uniform he's usually seen Fraser sporting some variety of worn leather jacket. Ray's got nothing against leather. He likes it for normal clothing. He's just not so sure about the straps and whatever other forms it comes in.]

No, Fraser, it's not the expense. That is the least of my worries. They'd eat us alive in there.

I'm sure it wouldn't be that bad, Ray.

[ When it comes to his American colleagues, Fraser has learned that coffee is the quickest path to cooperation. It was almost as though it took an influx of caffeine for them to discover the logic that was otherwise clear to Fraser himself. Of course in terms of stimulants, coffee wasn't difficult to provide, and thirsty colleagues were always grateful not to have to provide it for themselves.

And in this case, cooperation was inevitable. No matter how much of a fight Ray put up, they were out of other options. Now he just had to get that fact through to Ray as well.

He tilted his head back slightly. Oh. Now he understood. The awkward way Ray tried to dodge the topic, his clear discomfort when they'd been investigating the victim's private life. He was embarrassed. Fraser should have thought of that. ]

Ah. [ A knowing 'ah'. ] I see. The idea of presenting ourselves as a couple makes you uncomfortable. [ And ever pragmatic. ] Do you suppose Francesca would be willing to fill in for you?

[ Fraser would know, but it was an invitation for Ray to play the hero, step in and rescue him from his own obliviousness--among other things. If anything bad went down, Fraser depended on his partner to be there, and the alternative, putting Ray Vecchio's sister in danger in addition to Fraser, should surely inspire such self-sacrifice. In short he was playing him, though it was always hard to tell. ]

[Playing into Ray's pride and general concern for the well-being of his colleagues is hardly a fair move. It works though, obviously, but Fraser already knew it would.

With the mere suggestion of Francesca taking his place, Ray straightens up, head snapping towards Fraser with an expression somewhere between incredulous and aversion. Naturally none of the idea sits right with Ray and naturally he's going to voice that.]

You think I can't do it? Is that it? That I uh, that a uh girl would do it better? Francesca ain't even a real cop. She wouldn't last one second and neither would you. Nu-uh.

[He pauses long enough to noisily slurp again at his coffee, eyes narrowing thoughtfully as though whatever he's thinking on is of great importance. And then he comes out with a decision that's obviously something he totally came to by himself and wasn't at all influenced by Fraser.]

Nah. That ain't gonna cut it. I'm the only man for the job.

[ He knew he'd won the moment Ray sat up straighter, seeming to wake up to the topic completely. Almost to the letter, Ray followed his line of thinking to the ultimate conclusion, but when he reached it Fraser immediately switched to evasive and cautious. No need to let Ray know he was playing right into his hands. ]

I wouldn't want to put you at an imposition, Ray.

[ Angry coffee slurping aside, he's rather pleased that it went so well, which absolutely doesn't show in the concern that masks his usual non-expression. Restless, Fraser circles the corner of the table again, pushing in his chair behind the desk and standing with his hands on the back of it. ]

I do however share your concerns. We may find ourselves required to display traits that include discipline, obedience, loyalty, and perhaps most challengingly an intimate familiarity with each other. To that end, Ray, I don't believe we should continue any further down this line of thinking until we've established that familiarity.

[ But what is he talking about? Intimate familiarity. Nothing good, right? ]

Our marks and scratches, scars and ink.

[Ray falls for it, hook, line and sinker. One would think he'd have caught on by now but Fraser just does the innocent act so well. And yet even if Ray hadn't fallen for it, even if he knew he was being played, he'd have still come to the same outcome. Leaving Fraser to go it alone wasn't an option.

No good seemed to come for letting the Mountie do his own thing. Sure there were times when Fraser could save the day by himself, but then there were the time where he gets kidnapped by psychotic, trigger happy jewel thieves, or gets beaten in back alleys by thugs. There's no way that Ray ever wants to see a beaten up Benton being dragged back to the station ever again.]

Familiarity? Totally already over that, Fraser. You and me got that down. I know you, you know me. That's why we work. Partners.

Done. Next issue.

[If there's any other 'familiarity' Fraser may mean, Ray's choosing not to register it. He's just leaning back in his chair, angling himself so he can thump his boots up onto the desk in front to kick back and relax.]

[ This is where he should correct Ray for putting his dirty Chicago-street feet all over Fraser's desk, but he manages to bite down on the instinct. There are more important things.

Sedatedly, gently correcting: ] No, Ray. While I'm confident we're sufficiently workable partners, at least in the respect to which we're predilected to use the word, this is another matter entirely. Our lives may depend on it.

[ Fraser may be out of his hat, but he's still dressed in full uniform otherwise, lanyard across his chest, belt closing his tunic. He unbuckles both, laying the leather straps and pouches on the tabletop beside Ray's feet. It's almost a warning.

Sorry, Ray, he's a man on a mission. An undressing mission. ]

You know from reading your records, of course, that I was shot in the back fairly recently. A responsibility you inherited.

[Ray's reaching out for his coffee, stretching with a grunt as he goes to grab it and then relaxing back into the chair, coffee in hand. Whatever all this is about probably deserves mass amounts of caffeine. That's how all great problems are solved.

The gradual undressing isn't entirely off putting. Ray's seen Fraser slip out of the red surge before after a long case is finished, but he's still not quite certain there's an necessity for it now.]

Yeah, uh. Train station. I remember. Pretty big deal, huh? [The mildest tone of concern. Fraser's better now (other than some random back issues when jumping out of windows), so Ray's really not that worried for him.]

What's yer point?

[ Yes absolutely. A pretty big deal. That describes what they went through perfectly. Fraser has always been impressed by Ray's ability to sum lifechanging experiences up into three words or less. Meanwhile he unbuttons his tunic, folding it carefully and placing the finished miraculously squared off and impossibly tidy article on the clean, polished, mature walnut what is Ray doing to his desk tabletop.

Fraser inclines his head, his eyes going from Ray's feet to his eyes. Second hint. He's really not getting this, is he? He coughs softly. ]

My point being that despite inflicting that wound, you've yet to have actually seen it. Or, in fact, any of my many others. The same applies to you, Ray. Considering all of your many exploits, I'm sure you have scars of your own. I'd like to see them.

[ Right. But the thing is that nobody hit Ray with an otter when he was a child.

He raises his chin a half inch or so while he removes his shirt, but never deliberately takes his eyes from Ray's otherwise. The scars on his clavicle and forearm are clear, but all the more so because Fraser is deliberately drawing attention to them this time. ]

In fact, I'm afraid I must insist.

[Summing up the extraordinary with simplicity is one of Ray's many talents. At least Fraser understands that.]

Oookay. [So mildly confused by all of this and yet still offering an unwavering stare as Fraser gets rid of the red. He's a well built guy, sure, and Ray really doesn't doubt the guy is littered with scars considering his habit of doing dumb ass stunts all the time, but he's still not sure how seeing all of them is going to make any difference whatsoever.

Those heavy, Chicago street-worn boots still aren't moving off the surface of the desk, but he is leaning forward slightly, coffee coming to rest on his stomach.]

They're not gonna quiz me on your scars, Fraser. There's no grade we gotta pass before we enter. We just gotta look the part and uh. Y'know. Be there. Look, I'll drag some biker gear or somethin' up.

[He's refusing to acknowledge that looking the part may involve intimacy.]

[ He's going to be polishing the scuff marks out for months, isn't he?

Fraser circles the desk again, coming around beside Ray and resisting the instinct to reach out and take his hand, or guide him in any way. Sooner or later they're going to have to work out the nitty gritty who's going to be holding the leash question. So maybe... Maybe.

He'll get to that. ]

You don't know that, Ray. If doubts were to be raised about our involvement with each other, this is precisely the kind of thing that they might come to use against us. Scars, identifying marks and ah--erogenous zones. My ears, for the record.

[ Because Ray needed to know that information. But more importantly: ]

After all, if this were as simple as dressing in leather and walking in through the front door, we'd have already done it.

[Yeah, that is information that he doesn't deem useful. In fact:] Really didn't need to know that.

[The fact Fraser is circling around to come near has him just a little on edge, eyes narrowing and muscles tensing juuust slightly. If nothing else, Benton has finally achieved getting Ray to take his boots off the desk, although he's dragging them off with a long scrape and then dropping them to the ground with a thud. All for the sake of being able to twist towards Fraser enough to eye him up, and give Ray the ability to move swiftly if he needs to.

The nitty gritty won't be easy, not with Ray's constant defensiveness over his own masculinity, but maybe they'll get to that eventually. At least he's conceding to the fact that there has to be some leeway in all of this, that he understands walking in wearing leather might not be enough to cut it.]

Alright. So uh. Scars. I can get on that. I got a few, you got a few. That uh, that the sort of thing we're talking about? Like uh, I don't gotta strip off for that.

[ It's Fraser's way, really. Discover his friend is uncomfortable ∴ make him more uncomfortable. It's the cosmic balance. He doesn't fail to notice Ray almost coiling away from him, though, like a caribou squaring its legs under its body in preparation of a hasty retreat.

It isn't that surprising. There's something almost predatory about the way that Fraser looms. ]

That would depend on the scar. While I understand, of course, that certain of these things go without saying, others require at least a rudimentary examination. The knife wound to my thigh, for example.

[ And now it's creepy Mountie observation time. ]

You have a small nick to the inside of your wrist from when I shot you. Mine-- [ He turned his wrist up to the light so that Ray could see. ] --is from Diefenbaker's maxillary fourth pre-molar.

[It's that looming that's off putting. It's overbearing, especially when considering Fraser's six foot frame over a currently seated Ray, but beyond shoving the Mountie out the way, there's not much he can do about it. Maybe if he threatened a head punch later...

It doesn't really help that there's talk of thighs and creepy observations about himself. At the comment of his wrist, Ray's sparing a glance down at it as if uncertain whether what Fraser says is true or not. Ray's not exactly well versed with his own body, he's too distracted by everything around him.]

Huh.

Yeah.

[Well, whaddya know. But it'll take more than that to convince him.]

Scars aren't enough, Fraser. Scars aren't gonna seal any deals. Those places are all about the, the... the kinks. They're called fetish clubs for a reason. You go in and start listin' off scars and they're gonna think you're a freak. ... More of a freak.

[ Ray starts to help. It's good--it means that they got there eventually. In any case, a little cooperation from him now would go a long way. Especially considering where this conversation was heading.

If the conversation wasn't already 'I wish I could delete this from my brain' territory for Ray to muse over later, it most certainly would be after Fraser next spoke. ]

It mentioned that in the article. David, the man we found dead on the canal boat, seems to have been what they call a submissive. Our prime suspects are his ah--dominant - a woman who calls herself Lady Snakebite, - and potentially several other members of the club.

To infiltrate, we must claim similar identities, though if you mind my saying so Ray, the theatrical name seems rather superfluous to the point. So long as the aesthetic is flawless, everything else will fall into place.

[ The point, is he ever going to get to it? ]

It's obvious which roles we should each play. Don't you agree?

[If Ray didn't already want to bleach his brain, he'll likely want to by the end of the night. It's already getting beyond disturbing, especially once Fraser starts bringing up the case details that Ray's already well aware of. He really didn't need reminding about all the submissive and dominant stuff.

He nods along to the information idly, a sense of yeahyeahyeah about him as he waits for Fraser to get to the point. The trouble is, Ray keeps on nodding right up until the end and even after the question.

And then he realises there was a question.]

...

What?

Uh, yeah. That much is obvious, Fraser. We can tick that off our list.

[Obviously it's Ray.]

Good, I'm glad we agree.

[ Obviously it's Fraser.

But misconceptions will last at least. Oh. Ten seconds longer, as Fraser keeps on top of the situation otherwise. He moves away from the desk, inadvertantly not crowding Ray any longer. While he approaches his own glossy, bare-chested reflection in the otherwise black window, he carries on speaking. ]

Naturally our innate trust for each other will go some way to ensuring the success of the operation. The rest pivots - I think quite securely - on our being comfortable in our roles. Given our respective backgrounds, giving and taking orders should be simple enough.

That said, Ray, I think we should take this opportunity to... [ He paused, looking back over his shoulder. ] Practice. [ He drew the curtains shut abruptly. After all, Ray following orders was always touch and go. Ray Kowalski did what he liked, and went where he liked when he liked. But scratch that surface and Fraser knew there was a man underneath who might even find comfort in total subjugation. Or at least--it was obvious to him. ]

[There's something that doesn't sit right with Ray, even as Fraser walks away. Maybe it's Fraser's tone, the conversation topic, the current direction they're taking, or maybe Ray's just imaging it. But something is... different.

It shouldn't be different. This should be like any other case they've ever done.

All right, so there's a few extra issues here, especially when it comes to the invasive idea of fetish clubs, but surely it can't be that much of an issue. They can still go in, do their job and forget it ever happened, right?

Ray's just... got to take control of the situation and make sure this all works out. Fraser's made for submissive, surely. He's all about the yes sir, no sir stuff...]

Practice? [The curtains closing. The words. They're enough to throw Ray off his thoughts, frowning thoughtfully to himself. A topless Mountie talking about practising in the subject of this is really not processing right in Ray's brain.]

I uh. Do you need me to go? I should uh. Probably leave you to that. [Is this some sort of weird masturbation thing? He's going to go with that.]

[ Ray, does this look like a man who is unhinged by his own sexual tension? Or even knows what sexual tension is?

Curtains drawn and checked for gaps--Fraser doesn't really want any of this getting back to Thatcher in a million years: for one thing, this is an Embassy. He could only imagine the furor if someone were to snap a photograph of the two of them...practicing.

Assuming they ever got that far. Ray looked like he was about to bolt.

Might as well get right on with it, then. ]

For this to work, both of us have to be in the same place. It isn't the kind of thing I can practice alone.

[ Another careful step. Fraser didn't particularly want to have to chase Ray down the stairs in half his uniform. It wasn't going to look good when they woke up Turnbull where he was asleep under the stairs, and it wouldn't be any good for either of them to be interrupted by him either. ]

Lock the door, Ray. If you would.

[ And this was really the biggest problem with Fraser giving orders. Not Ray's possible disobedience, but the fact that he couldn't give any order that wasn't at once glaringly polite. They were doomed. ]

[Ray really does look like he's about to bolt. He even considers it for just a second, but soon comes to the conclusion that it'll get him no where. Maybe it'll get him out of this current situation, yes, but he'll still have the same discussion to face the next day and the next, until they can properly close this case down.

But this? This doesn't seem right. The shutting of curtains, locking of doors, being topless...

Still, Ray slowly rises to his feet and backs the short distance towards the door, only briefly decided whether to run for it now or stay and endure. He does open the door, but that's only to kick Dief out, although it would appear the wolf has enough sense to bolt out the second he has a chance. Lucky guy. But Ray does lock it after, quietly, staring at the lock for the longest time.]

Fraser. This isn't the sort of thing we should practice. This isn't like uh. like learnin' poker or, or, rememberin' book passages. This is real stuff. This is behind locked doors kinda stuff... ... other locked doors, not this locked door. I can't show you this stuff.

[Slowly looking away from the door towards the topless Mountie.] I can't teach you that submissive stuff, y'know.

[ There's a brief moment where Fraser sees the moment suspended, the door open, and Ray about to bust out as fast as his legs could take him, and then the door closes behind Dief, and the lock is turned, and Fraser listens to the sound of Diefenbaker trotting downstairs to lie on the mat by the door, where just the slightest hint of Chicago night breezes would keep him cool while he dozed.

And then Ray's speaking, and Fraser listens. Listens, and drops his chin toward his chest in silent thought, and only stirs again when Ray actually looks over toward him, face pinched into the slightest frown. ]

I didn't think you could. You forget, I happen to know you, Ray. I know that you're a man with a big heart, someone who joined the police force for much the same reason as I did--to do some good in the world. You taught yourself to dance, alone in the dark, when any other man would have exerted those efforts elsewhere. You took a bullet for me on the very first day we met, just because you could.

I know that this isn't the kind of thing you're comfortable doing, just as you know that I will go beyond the call of duty to bring to justice the person responsible for this heinous act.

I can't do this alone, Ray. I need you.

[Oh God, not this. The moment Fraser dons that expression and that tone, Ray knows a guilt trip is coming. It's quite a talent of Fraser's, using his words to tug at the heart and pull at ones conscience and even though Ray knows exactly what the Mounties doing, he still can't deny it.

It's all truth, after all.

He's dropping his chin too, eyes shutting for a moment as he exhales loudly.]

Alright.

Yeah. Yeah, we'll do this. But only to get these assholes. [It's not like he likes Fraser or anything /tsuntsun.]

So uh. I dunno. I guess you keep quiet cause I don't think subs get to talk.

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