Notes: This was inspired in part by a waking dream I had at Escapade 2000,
and in part by a certain scene in Mountie on the Bounty that has been the
cause of one of my more classic Due South-related rants.

Disclaimers, et al.: Benton Fraser, Ray Kowalski and Meg Thatcher belong to
Alliance. If Fraser and Kowalski were *mine*, I'd let them do it wherever
they damn well pleased. Rated NC-17 for boy/boy smut.

Thanks to Audra for, as always, listening.

Feedback should be properly and courteously delivered to


by LaT
February 2000

Meg was certain the file was somewhere in her office, but it wasn't on her
desk. She had never been excessively tidy, but things were always in their
place. It was a function of her natural inclination to impatience, and the
fact that one of the things she most hated in life was wasting time.
Particularly wasting time looking for something that wasn't where it should

The file wasn't on her desk, and the thought occurred to her that perhaps
Fraser had taken it so he could complete his daily report. She could just
retrieve it from his office. It was after hours, and while it was possible
that Fraser was out for the evening, she thought she saw a sliver of light
coming from under the door of his office.

Meg turned the knob and walked in, intending to ask Fraser if he had the
file. The words evaporated before they even reached her lips. Fraser
wasn't working on a report. He wasn't working at all. He and Ray were on
their knees on the floor, both naked, Fraser behind his partner. Ray's head
was bent forward, blond hair darkened with sweat. Fraser's head rested on
the other man's shoulder, and there was no way, even if she wanted to, that
Meg could deny to herself what they were doing.

"Oh, Ben oh, *God*," Ray moaned, shaking his head. Meg stood, transfixed
by the sight of Fraser's tongue sliding over the curve of Ray's shoulder,
enthralled by the movement of his hand, gliding down Ray's arm in a caress
that could only be called possessive.

She wanted, no *needed* to leave. She knew this, and while it seemed to her
as though she'd taken a step back, she knew she hadn't moved.

Enough of this, she told herself. She started to back away when Fraser
lifted his head, and she found herself looking right into his eyes. The flush that
went through her was hot and quick, and she could feel embarrassment staining
her cheeks. She had never before noticed just how ... blue his eyes were,
and the brightness of them now, the clear and gleaming sharpness that arousal
lent them, startled her.

Meg had known from the first that Fraser's mind was quick, his focus
laser-keen, and even like this, in the middle of his pleasure, he *saw* her.
He recognized her embarrassment, and this time, spared her no quarter for any
discomfort that resulted from her own discourteousness.

His eyes narrowed and the heat in them mutated, almost instantly, to sheer
and bitter cold. His movement against his partner's body never slowed, the
rhythm never broke and for several perfect, devastating seconds that felt to
Meg like years, he held her gaze.

Then he blinked, lowered his head to Ray's shoulder again, and there was no
doubt in Meg's mind that she had just been ... dismissed. She turned quickly
on her heel and moved back down the hall. As she closed and locked the
Consulate door behind her, she had a thought, simple in its elegance and
almost beautiful in its clarity:

//I have *got* to learn to knock.//