Title: Maple Leaf Sugar

Author: Scribe

Fandom: Austin Powers/Due South

Pairing: Scott Evil/Constable Benton Fraiser

Status: Complete

Sequel/Series: The Evil Series

Archive: If you got it from me, yes. Otherwise ask.

Disclaimer: Scott and the Due South characters are not mine. Do you think the owners would consider selling them to me? I mean, I KNOW slavery is illegal, but...

Summary: Vegas attracts all kinds. Scott runs into a wet dream in red serge.

Warnings: Don't give me grief about the male strip show patrons. I've been to one--it isn't THAT much of an exaggeration.

Notes: About the Ray-Stanley name thing. In Due South, the actor playing Benton's partner, Ray
Vecchio, left (the plot said he was going undercover). His place was taken by Stanley 'Ray' Kowalski (who looked NOTHING like the original Ray), who was to impersonate Vecchio. *ERF made it's appearance in Screw You, Paula Abdul. It stands for the Evil Recreaction Finances, a scam Scott runs.

Translations: Guttenaben, Dame--Good evening, lady. Verstehen Sie Deutsches?--Do you understand German?, Gerade wenig. Ich verstand nicht, was Sie schrieen--Just a little. I didn't understand what you were shouting

Rating: NC-17

Maple Leaf Sugar
By Scribe

"Benny, I wanna go play blackjack."

Benton Fraiser slipped another nickel into the slot machine before him, bringing his total to five, and punched the SPIN button. Lights flashed, music played, images flickered, buzzers buzzed, and in general a fuss was made. It ended with a line running across a line of pictures, and a scattering of nickles pattered into the metal tray. "Ray! I won!"

Stanley sighed. "Benny, the undercover bit is done. You can call me Stanley now."

"Of course, Ray. But I WON!"

"You broke even, Frase. Besides, slots are for tourists and little blue-haired ladies--blackjack is a
MAN'S game!"

"If I may point out, Ray, I AM NOT a little blue-haired lady..."

Stanley eyed his partner's magnificent, six-foot-plus frame. *Damn, you got that right.*

"and I find it quite enjoyable. And I AM a tourist, so I am not totally out of place."

"Yeah, well, you'd look a damn sight LESS out of place if you'd ditch the freakin' uniform, Frase. How many people do you see around here in red serge, jodhpurs, high boots, Sam Brown belts, brass buttons, and Stetson hats?"

Fraiser actually glanced around, as if he thought he might find someone else wearing the same outfit. "I do seem to be the only one wearing this particular outfit, though I HAVE seen several gentlemen who appear to be wearing the uniform of Preatorian Guards."

"Why, Benny, WHY? You're on VACATION."

"If you must know, Ray, the consulate is providing me with a small fee on the condition that I act as a de facto ambassador, presenting Canada at its best." He straightened the hem of his tunic proudly. "As one of Canada's finest, I am a natural representative."

Stanley studied his partner's handsome face, and murmered, "And you ARE fine."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said they fed you a line. It's your vacation--you should be comfortable."

"But I AM comfortable dressed like this."

"Well, I'M not comfortable when you're dressed like that."

Benton frowned. "I AM sorry, Ray. I do not wish you to be uncomfortable, but..."

Stanley waved. "That wasn't really what I meant. Maybe I'll explain it to you when we get back to our room later. You got the key?"

Fraiser set his cup of nickels down on the shelf beside the slot machine and pulled out his wallet.
"Yes." He showed Stanley the magnetic key card. "Though I must say that I am not sure I will EVER become accustomed to these new cards. I am familiar enough with some of the methods of gaining illicit entry into a domicile to feel odd using a plastic card to open a door." Stanley blinked at him. "Surely you know of that method, Ray? Criminals take a credit card, or other piece of stiff plastic and slip it into..."

"I know, I know--and please do not use the word 'stiff' or the phrase 'slip it into' around me, Fraiser."

Now Fraiser blinked. "It makes you uncomfortable?"

Stanley was calculating the shortest route to a men's room and a private stall where he could 'adjust' himself after the mental images Fraiser had just stirred up. "Distinctly."

"Oh. All right."

"I'm gonna go hit the 21 tables. What say we meet back at that lounge near the front of the casino in about an hour?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea. There are many more amusing slot machines I wish to try. I saw one that had a nineteen-sixties theme. I believe it is called 'Austin Powers', and I am almost certain I heard it say 'shagadelic' when I walked past."

"I don't blame it in the least."

Stanley headed toward the blackjack tables, and Fraiser moved deeper into the ranks of slot machines. He would choose an interesting looking machine and plug several dollars into it. If he won, he kept playing. If he lost, he moved on.

He lost his last nickel in a Wheel of Fortune machine, and walked away muttering, "It is certainly apparent that those are games of chance and not skill, because I am quite confident that I knew the answer to that puzzle, but I simply could not get that Q to come up."

Fraser went out to the lobby and located the entrance of the lounge. He sat on one of the benches that were provided for the casino patrons, removed his hat, and held it in his lap. He would have removed it in the casino proper, since a gentleman always removed his hat indoors, but he'd been worried about having his hat purloined. He settled back to wait for Ray to appear.

After he had waited for a few moments, a young man entered the lobby and strolled past him with a loose, easy grace. He stopped near the closed double doors that led to the lounge and stared at the large poster that was set up on an easel just outside.

A very beefy man was standing with his back to the door, hands clasped below belt level, watching the young man. When the boy looked up, the man said, "Ladies only, Mac."

There was a snort. "Dude, as if I'd risk my fair white body by goin' in there right now."

Fraiser had already been watching the boy with keen interest. He was wearing a strapped undershirt and a pair of baggy shorts (QUITE short--upper thigh level), and Nikes. What there was of the body on display was, indeed, fair and white. Slender and nicely toned, too.

Fraiser had come to the conclusion some time ago that he found men as well as women attractive. While he had yet to act on his feelings with another man he had decided that he WAS going to. He was simply waiting for the opportunity to present itself. In fact, he was rather hoping that something would come from this vacation with Ray. After all, they WERE sharing a room on this trip. In the meantime he could admire the view.

*****

Scott was a little short on pocket money. Rather than ask Frau for some cashe he decided to drop by a casino and check out one of his ERF* containers. The show card outside the lounge had caught his eye, and he had a little exchange with the bouncer. Then he turned around to go look for the container and...

*HELLO! Aahhh-OOO-gah! Babe alert!* Scott didn't even try to repress the wide, predatory grin that spread across his face. The vision in red serge sitting on the bench smiled back at him politely. Scott managed to refrain from licking his lips, but only barely. *Oof. Pitch, catch, punt, I don't give a damn! I WANT some of that.*

He strolled over. "So, what? Did you escape from a fox hunt, or what?"

"Fox...?"

"Or WERE you the fox?"

"Oh, you mean the tunic, johdpurs and boots. No, I am not a fox hunter." He stood up and offered a hand to the cute boy. "I am Constable Benton Fraiser, of the RCMP."

The boy jerked back a little, looking suspicious. "Is this about that heat wave Dad sent over Ottowa? I had NOTHING to do with that, man! In fact, I'm the one who sprinkled Pop Rocks in the Evil Climate Control Handler, then doused it with Perrier. If I hadn't they'd probably be skiing in Miami right now."

Benton blinked, again politely. "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."

Scott relaxed a little. "You AREN'T here to haul off my Dad?"

"Not that I know of."

"Damn. Oh, well, pleased to meet you, anyway." He shook hands. "So, Canada. God Save The Queen, and back bacon, and huskies, hockey, and maple leaf flags, and all that other good stuff, huh?"

"Indeed. Might I know your name?"

"Scott Evil."

Benton's eyes got round. "No! Not the Scott Evil who single handedly rescued twenty coyotes from the freak snowstorm that hit this area a few months ago?"

Scott looked pleased. "Yeah. I stashed 'em in Mini Me and Fat Bastard's rooms till it thawed out." He snickered. "They still haven't gotten rid of the fleas, though with Fat Bastard it's kind of a moot point. I'm pretty sure he had fleas already. How did you know about that?"

"CNN."

"Damn, you mean to tell me that sixty second clip the local station shot made it all the way up to Canada?"

"Not exactly. I currently reside in Chicago."

"Why?"

"Long story."

"I'd like to know, man. I've been listening in when Austin talks to Basil Exposition, so I can handle
backstory. Oh, but we'd better find somewhere else to talk."

"I am afraid I cannot. I am supposed to meet my partner here soon."

"Your partner, hm? As in working partner, or as in..." Scott lifted one eyebrow and dropped his voice seductively, "p-a-r-t-n-e-r."

Benton blushed, and Scott felt an instant urge to adjust himself. "Um, working." The blush deepened. "Though perhaps, if I am fortunate, before we leave I can... uh..."

"I'll want to hear about THAT, too. But we REALLY need to move. It isn't safe here."

Fraiser frowned, looking around. "What constitutes a hazard."

Scott pointed at the advertising poster. "That."

Benton read the poster. "I hardly see how a strip review would be dangerous, Scott."

"That isn't just a strip review, Ben. That's a MALE strip review, and it's in one of the let-it-all-hand-out capitals of the world. About the only place it could be more dangerous would be in the French Quarter during Mardi Gras. Have you got any idea how the women who go to those things get?"

Benton looked interested. "No, how do they get?"

"Loud, lewd, drunk, horny, and AGGRESSIVE. Especially with these guys--they're the Strippendales. They take off more, shake it harder, and allow deeper tip stuffing than any other troupe in the world. When that show is over, trust me on this, that audience will come roaring out of there looking for fresh meat, and a hunk of Canadian bacon would suit them just fine."

"Scott, surely the ladies would not be so forward." He gestured toward the entrance. "It seems quite quiet and dignified right now."

As he finished speaking the doors opened. Fraiser's hat blew out of his hands, carried on the gust of wind and clamour that rushed out of the club. There was thumping music, stamping of feet, clapping of hands, screams, whistles, and shouts of 'TAKE IT OFF!' Scott threw himself behind Fraiser.

Three beefy bouncers dragged out a small, struggling figure dressed in a severe gray dress that was much the worse for wear. One of the bouncers panted, "Watch her feet! Bobo has a size six asshole now, thanks to her."

"Schwinehundt! Ach, big brave men, picking on vun tiny, defenseless voman! Chust you vait till I tell mine evil genius zis! He'll sink of zomethink. Iff mine boy hadn't broken zat ECCH I vould haf him freeze ze vater in your toilets!"

Scott peeked out from behind Benton. "MOM?"

Frau Farbissina went quiet instantly. "Schatzie? Oh, um, hello, Scott."

Scott came out and walked over to her, frowning. "I thought this was your Bund night."

"It iss, liebling, it iss. Ze lady's auxiliary iss on a field trip. I don't know vhy I'm being srown out!
Zat Helga Krinklemier slut shtuck her hand in zat Tarzan's loincloth chust as deep as I did."

"Yeah, lady, but she didn't try to swing from his vine. You're lucky we don't want publicity, or we'd call the cops. Just go home and we won't say anything more about it," said the head bouncer.

"Oh, all right, all right." They let go warily. She straightened her skirt and smoothed her hair. They backed back through the lounge doors, closing them. "Scotty, darlink, let muttie explain. It vas ze
peppermint schnapps. I KNEW I shouldn't haf had it, it makes me..."

"Hey, Mom, it's all right."

She sighed in relief. "It iss?"

"In fact, it's cool." He grinned. "You deserve a night out with the girls." He gave her a hug. "But
don't drive, huh? Either sleep in the Evilmobil or take a cab."

"Don't vorry, liebchen." She regarded Benton. "Und who's zis nice, Aryan lookink boy?"

"He's Canadian, Mom. I guess you can't get much more white bread than that. Mom, this is Constable Benton Fraiser. Fraiser, this is my mom, Frau Farbissina."

Bento took her hand and bent over it in a courtly manner. "Guttenaben, Dame."

Frau looked flustered. "Verstehen Sie Deutsches?"

"Gerade wenig. Ich verstand nicht, was Sie schrieen."

Frau rolled her eyes in relief. Scott grinned. "I understood it. And to think, I try not to cuss around
YOU."

Frau giggled (an alarming sight to those who didn't know her, and a TERRIFYING one to those who did). "Vell, darlink, you should be leavink now. Zey vere getting ready to shtart ze last number."

"Hell, yeah! Ben, you and I can go look for your friend, but we can't stay here. Bye, Mom." He put his hug around Frau and kissed her cheek.

*BAM!* The doors to the lounge slammed open.

"HEY! There's two more of them, and they're passin' out KISSES!" yelled a slurred female voice.

"Ooo!" called someone else. "A UNIFORM!"

A mob of disheveled, weaving, grinning, drooling women moved into the lobby and started toward Scott and Fraiser. One of them called, "A big one an' a young one! Hey, cutie, how old are you?"

"I'm fifteen!" Scott squeaked. "Jailbait!"

"Fuck that!" yelled a bouncer, who'd crawled up on the bench in an attempt to escape, and was slowly being dragged down. "He's legal--I've seen the ID. Let me go, take him!"

"You cad!" yelled Fraiser.

Frau shoved Scott behind her. "Run for it, schatzie! I'll hold zem off!" Her chest swelled. "Ayuh-OOOOO-ah! Ayuh-OOOOO-ah!"

Fraiser shook his head, as if to clear it. "I am almost certain that I heard that once on a Bugs Bunny cartoon."

"We may have a chance, Ben! Mom is singing the Valkerie section from Wagner's 'The Ring'. She's ready to kick ass and take names. But where can we run? We can't get past them to go out to the Evilmobil, and if we go into the casino they'll run us down between the slots."

Fraiser grabbed his hand. "Upstairs! I have a room."

As he jerked Scott along toward the stairs Scott looked up at the ceiling and yelled, "THANK YOU!"

They ran. From the second floor landing they had a good view of the action in the lobby. "Wow! Mom's in great form tonight."

"Oh, dear! I have not seen anything like that except in that martial arts movie Ray insisted that I watch."

"I was the only kid at school who threatened bullies with my mother instead of my father," Scott said proudly. "Quick, where's the room? Some of them are getting around her!"

"This way!"

They pounded up another flight of stairs. Below them they heard yells of, "Wait! Wait!" "I want a lap dance!" and "If you help me drag them home, I have a room in the basement, and I'll give you visitation rights."

"Crap! I hope we're close, Ben. If I want to be locked up and sexually assaulted on a regular basis I'll just join the family business, like Dad wants."

"We're here." Fraiser took out his wallet, grabbing for his key card.

"Hurry! They just turned the corner. I can see the spittle from here."

Fraiser swiped the card, threw the door open, grabbed Scott, jerked him inside, and slammed the door just as a thundering herd of estrogen and alcohol fueled females thundered down the hall. Fraiser locked the door and braced himself against it, just as the blows began to fall.

"Scott, perhaps you should hide under the bed," he panted. "I am not sure how long I can hold this
door."

"The SWAT or riot team should be here any second now. They have a pretty good response time here."

Sure enough, in a moment they heard an authoritarian male voice bark, "Okay, ladies! Back away from the door and come along quietly. Joe, get the handcuffs, and..."

There was a chorus of *squeal!* "HANDCUFFS!" "UNIFORMS!" "BABY, BABY, BABY!"

"Wait! You women... We're officers, damn it, not sex objects!"

Another male voice said, "Speak for yourself, Sarge. Hey, Blondie, looka this!"

*squeal!*

"Hoskins! PUT THAT AWAY!"

More female screams of "TAKE IT AAAAAALL OFF!"

Then the first male voice, rising to almost falsetto, yelled, "LADY! I'm a married man!"

More whoops. "Forbidden fruit!"

The noise faded, and Fraiser sighed. "They seem to be moving off, Scott. I think we are safe. I certainly hope that Ray did not stumble into that."

Scott flopped back on the bed. "Oh, man! My heart hasn't been going like this since Alex showed me why he had that swingset in his livingroom."

Fraiser sat beside him. "You ARE flushed. Allow me to check your pulse." He took Scott's hand, pressing his fingers over his wrist.

"How is it?" asked Scott, looking at him slyly.

"It seems a bit rushed. I should try taking it in another place." Fraiser gently pressed two fingers
against the side of Scott's throat, and stroked.

"Can't find it?" Scott asked archly.

"No, I think it is here." The fingers pressed lightly under the hinge of Scott's jaw.

"I know another pulse point."

"Yes? Where?"

Scott took Fraiser's hand and moved it down to his crotch. "Right here. You should be able to feel the blood pumping."

Fraiser smiled. "Not through the clothes, Scott." He reached down, and his hand slid up under the loose him of one leg. His eyebrows lifted. "Scott, you are not wearing underpants?"

"REALLY? I KNEW I forgot something this morning. So, how's the pulse?"

Benton stroked, Scott closed his eyes. "It is a bit rapid, but very strong."

Scott's voice was thick. "Health care is fascinating. How about showing me how to check pulse like this, Ben?"

"I'd be happy to, Scott." Scott heard a zipper being lowered, and smiled. "Of course, one cannot take a pulse accurately on oneself, so you will have to use me as a guinie pig."

"oh, drat." Fraiser took hold of Scott's hand, guiding it.

Scott's fingers were wrapped around a thick handful of warm, sleek, solid flesh. "Now, you should feel around until you find the pulse."

"Okay. I'll just slide up and down here till I locate it." He did. "Fraiser, I haven't located any one
place where the pulse feels strongest. Maybe it's because I can't quite close my hand all the way around it now." *pumppump* And the sucker is getting kind of slippery."

"You, also, Scott. I think I had better get the appendage in question out into the open so I can get a better grip." *zip* *wrestle* *strokestrokestroke*

*groan* "Ben, you'd better find the pulse quick or you're going to have to wait a few minutes to try again."

*slip* "Damn! You really are slick here, Ben."

"Let go for a moment, and I will get some tissues."

"Not necessary. I can get the slick up the natural way." Scott shifted. *slurp*

"Oh dear."

*slurp mmph*

"OH DEAR!"

*slurpslurpsuckslurp*

"Oh, oh, oh..."

*nibble*

"DEAR!" *pantpantpant*

*licksmack* "You're welcome."

*rapraprap* "BENNY! ARE YOU IN THERE?"

"Shit, it's your husband! Lemme go, Ben. I gotta hide."

"No, no, Scott. That is just my partner, Ray. There is no danger."

"Man, I'm laying here with your hand around my dick and your come on my chin. Are you SURE about that?"

"Uh..."

"Benny? Are you being held hostage? Open the door, or I'll kick it down."

"Drat! I have to think fast. I know..." *zip* Fraiser had himself decent with one movement, and
began to dig through his bag. "I have it here somewhere. I was bringing it as a gift to the city of
Las Vegas, but I do not suppose they'll miss it."

"What are you doing?" hissed Scott. *snap whip whip* "SHIT! Fraiser, I don't think now is the time to be stripping me! Gimme back my clothes."

"Here, wear this."

"What the fuck? Ben, this is a..."

"I know what it is." *wrapwrap* "Now, sit there and look adorable."

Fraiser opened the door to find Stanley preparing to kick it in. "Shit, Benny, don't DO that to me! I saw the ruckus in the lobby, and found your Stetson, all trampled and ripped and drooled on. I thought you were a goner."

"I managed to escape, with the help of a new friend. Ray, this may seem a bit abrupt, but you DO know that I am attracted to you, do you not?"

Stanley's jaw dropped. "I... uh... Well, I do now."

"I was hoping that we might initiate a new level of intimacy while we were here in Vegas, so I have a gift for you."

"Aw, Frase, you didn't have to do that!"

"Believe me, Ray, I did. I even wrapped it for you." He stepped aside.

Stanley blinked. Sitting on the bed was a very cute, spike-haired young man who appeared to be wearing nothing but a Canadian flag wrapped around his hips. And judging by the lump under the maple leaf, he was prepared to be very friendly indeed.

Scott studied Stanley (Ray?). Wiry, blonde, tough looking, and undeniably sexy, the lump springing up at his fly said he was interested. Scott grinned and patted the mattress beside him, then his crotch. "Hi. I'm Scott Evil. Want some maple leaf sugar?"

end