Impounded	   Impounded

 by A. Kite

  

 Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/a_kite_fic/

 Disclaimer: Due South and its characters are not mine, just so you know.
:)

 Author's Notes: Originally written for the Many Tongues Challenge on
ds_flashfiction, but I missed the deadline. Big thanks to BJC and Shay for
beta reading it. Their suggestions really helped. 

 Story Notes: 

 

 

 Ray Vecchio, formerly known as Ray Kowalski, and his partner, Constable
Benton Fraser, and Fraser's half wolf, Diefenbaker, exited the restaurant
where they had been having breakfast just in time to see the tow truck
with Ray's car attached pull away. 

 Ray gave chase. Yelling, "Hey! Hey! That's my car!" It was much too late.
The tow truck never slowed. "Dief! Dief, buddy, follow that truck!" That
was useless also. The wolf was deaf and not facing Ray at all. In fact, he
was making use of the fire hydrant in front of which Ray had parked. 

 "Damn, damn, damn! What kind of lunatic tows a cop's car?" 

 "Well, Ray. . .," Fraser started to speak. 

 "Stop, Fraser. Do not say it." 

 "Say what, Ray?" 

 "Do not give me that clueless Mountie look, Fraser. You know you were
going to say," Ray's whole demeanor changed, it took on the look of his
partner. Even Ray's voice changed, "Well Ray, if you had taken my advice
and not parked illegally, your car would not have been towed." In his own
voice and manner, he continued, "That's what you were going to say, wasn't
it?" 

 Fraser nodded. 

 "Let's skip the lecture this time, okay?" 

 "Understood, Ray." 

 Thankfully, it was only a short walk to the station. Ray was on his
cellphone the entire trip. "Yeah, it's a 1967, black, double-barreled GTO,
License number WE 761." There was a pause. "A Pontiac, Papa, Oscar,
November, T-, yeah, Pontiac. License number Whiskey, Echo 761. What do you
mean it isn't in the system yet? Okay, okay, I know it's not your fault.
Call me when you know what impound yard it was towed to, huh?" 

 As soon as they entered the squad room Lt. Welsh called them over.
"Vecchio, we got a lead in the Carmichael case. Go over to -" 

 Ray interrupted, "No can do, Lieutenant. I've got no wheels." Before he
could continue, his cell phone rang. "Vecchio. Yeah, okay. I'll be there
in a few minutes. Yeah, thanks." 

 "Detective?" 

 "Sorry. My car was towed this morning. I'm going over to get it." 

 The lieutenant shook his head. "First things first, Vecchio. First you go
downstairs and sign out a car. You go pick up our witness. After you're
done taking his statement, then you can worry about getting your car out
of impound." 

 "But-" 

 "No buts, Vecchio." 

 Ray's whole body sagged, eloquently portraying his disappointment. He
nodded, straightened and immediately was in motion. "Come on, Fraser.
Pitter patter, let's get at 'er." 

 There was another argument with the sergeant in charge of the motor pool.
"No, please. Not the Ford, anything but a Ford," Ray pleaded. 

 "Sorry, Vecchio. The Chevy is outta commission right now. The only thing
we got left is the Fairmont. Take it or leave it," the sergeant said with
much satisfaction in his voice. Evidently, he didn't like anyone
disparaging his cars. 

 "All right, okay," Ray agreed, resigned to the fact that he had to drive
a lame, piece of shit car. It was only for a little while, right? Over to
pick up the witness, then whoom - right back to the station. Ray signed
the logbook and got the keys. 

 As they headed out the door the sergeant called after them, "And try to
bring this one back in one piece, huh, Vecchio?"  

 Ray shot the guy the finger, but only after Fraser was through the door
and couldn't see him. He wasn't up for a lecture about crude hand gestures
across the globe. Still, he grumbled all the way to the car. "How about
you drive, Fraser? I'll hide in the back seat so nobody sees me." 

 Naturally, Fraser took him seriously, "To what purpose, Ray? This is a
witness we're bringing in, correct? Not a suspect that you might need to
surprise and apprehend." 

 Ray sighed, "Right, a witness. Just get in the car, Fraser. Please."  

 Fraser watched through the two-way glass into the interview room as Ray
took the witness' statement. The witness was less than helpful, truly, and
Ray's exasperation was certainly justified. Fraser could only hope that
his partner didn't kick the man in the head or have a stroke by holding
back. 

 He watched as Ray took a deep breath and started speaking again. "Okay,
let's make sure I've got this down right, Mr. Gordon. You actually didn't
see anything of a criminal nature on the night in question, and you
weren't close enough to the suspect to make a clear identification?" 

 Mr. Wayne Gordon was a small man who looked even smaller huddled in the
chair with Ray looming over him. His voice whined when he answered,
"Sorry. You know, I thought I might have saw something, but I don't
remember so good anymore." 

 "Right," Ray agreed. "So maybe you can tell me this, what'd Carmichael
threaten you with?" 

 "Nothing. I swear, nothing. Can I go now?" 

 Ray made a sweeping gesture toward the door. "Sure thing, and if you find
your memory improving, you got my card, right?" 

 The little man patted his pocket and nodded. He opened his mouth and
whined again, "Don't I get a ride home?" 

 Ray bared his teeth to the man, but, miraculously, Ray didn't explode. He
pushed a hand through his hair and answered, "Yeah, sure. Why the hell
not? Park it for a second. I'll be right back." Fraser came out of the
observation room just in time to hear Ray mumble, "Pierdolony chujek." 

 He jumped when Fraser came up behind him and admonished him, "Language,
Ray." 

 "What? Since when do you speak Polish?" Ray was honestly surprised. 

 "Oh! That was Polish? I assumed it to be Italian, Detective Vecchio,"
Fraser answered, stressing the Vecchio firmly. 

 "I got you, ixnay on the olishpay." Particularly the dirty Polish, Ray
thought, thankful that Fraser didn't know he called Gordon a fucking
little dick. Lt. Welsh didn't seem any happier than Ray that Carmichael
had gotten to their witness, but he waved Ray on to get the man out of the
station, and consequently, finally, to the impound yard.  

 There the real nightmare part of the day began. Never in his life had Ray
seen so many rude, quarrelsome people. Okay, so maybe the amount of money
you had to pay to get your car back was a lot. Hell, it had taken him back
quite a bit. In fact, he'd had to have a quick, quiet conversation with
Fraser to see if he had any American type money on him. Close to two
hundred bucks, it'd cost to get his car back, and he didn't have that much
cash with him. 

 Fraser had plucked the Stetson off his head and started counting out
bills. Ray shielded him as much as he could. The impound yard wasn't in
the best part of town, and some of the characters waiting in line looked
like they'd kill for five dollars. Mr. Polite, Ray wasn't, but jeeze,
these people. There were four people in line before Ray, and every single
one of them threw a fit when they got to the window. One man's son walked
away in disgust at his father, after reminding him that he had indeed
parked illegally. 

 Ray had been ready to show his badge, march up to the front of the line
and make demands of his own when he got there. How the clerk put up with
it all day long was beyond him. The clerk was a pretty big guy. Ray sure
wouldn't want to tangle with him, but the little Hispanic guy two ahead of
Ray, certainly didn't seem to show any fear. After a while, Ray tried to
tune out the other people and concentrate on Fraser's face. There was a
little bench over to the side, and he'd sent Fraser over to have a seat
while they waited for Ray's turn. 

 The Hispanic man was ranting on about something in Spanish, and Fraser's
face was priceless. A twitch here and a wince there and a good eyebrow rub
in for good measure at some shouted word that Ray was sure was something
particularly vile. Ray was just ready to intercede, when the man slammed
his money down and stalked over to the gate. He started yelling again when
the electronic gate didn't open for him. The clerk had to call him back
anyway to sign the release. What a hot head! 

 Ray turned and looked out into the yard and tried to find his car in the
jumble of vehicles. He'd thought it was a jumble at first, and then he
made out the pattern. Towed, undamaged cars were right in the front. The
ones with a little damage were back a bit further; the rest of the lot was
full of the wrecks. He spotted the GTO toward the end of the first line
and gave a sigh of relief. Between the car getting stolen and this, he'd
hardly had time to get to know the car again. 

 The man just ahead of Ray was making a fuss now. He'd come to claim a car
that wasn't his and didn't have the right paperwork with him. Oh, his
wife, that didn't have the same last name, who couldn't come for some odd
reason. Ray almost cheered when the clerk didn't back down one bit. The
clerk explained the procedure to the jerk for the tenth time, and
eventually, after a rant about how his taxes paid the clerk's salary, the
man huffed away. Idiot, this was a private lot. Yeah, they got money from
the city to store cars, but they weren't city employees. 

 The clerk's window was high up almost over Ray's head. It was kind of
annoying having to yell to be heard, but he decided to take a leaf from
Fraser's book. Ray did not get angry, and he certainly didn't make a
scene. He handed the title up with his driver's license and sent a thank
you skyward, for having had the forethought to get a title in Vecchio's
name. He'd have to thank Fraser for that too. Maybe spring for a pizza
later - or maybe a trip by the bank first. Ouch! It hurt handing all that
money over, but it was his own fault. If he'd just listened to his partner
this morning... 

 Later, as the partners sat on Ray's sofa, they ate pizza as a hockey game
played mostly unwatched on the television screen in front of them. That's
because Fraser was watching Ray, and Ray was feeling very self-conscious
about it. Fraser looked away every time Ray turned to him, but once the
pizza was gone, he had to say something. "Fraser? What is it? Did I grow a
second head here or something?" 

 Fraser looked taken back. "Oh no, Ray." 

 "Then why you been staring at me all night?" 

 Fraser turned his eyes away again. "I'm sorry, Ray. Perhaps, Dief and I
should return to the consulate." 

 Ray shook his head. "No. You look like a man that has something to say.
Just say it, okay? I'm not gonna get mad." 

 Fraser looked back at Ray and said, "Yes, that's it. I'm not sure how to
say this, Ray, but Diefenbaker and I are rather worried about you. You
barely got angry all day. Are you feeling well?" 

 Ray chuckled then answered, "Sure Fraser, like the wolf noticed anything
but the pizza, but to answer your question, I'm feeling quite well, thank
you kindly." 

 Fraser closed his eyes momentarily as if gathering strength. "Ray, please
stop. This isn't like you." 

 "What? You don't like Canadian? Ray asked, really amused now. 

 "Canadian? I'm not sure I understand." 

 "I decided today to learn to speak Canadian, and you don't like it? Don't
you always say; it only takes a few extra seconds to be courteous?" 

 "Well, certainly Ray, common courtesy is never amiss." 

 Ray noticed that Fraser hadn't touched the Canadian bit at all. He
decided just to go for it. "Okay, you don't like my Canadian, how about I
show you my French?" 

 Fraser had just started to say, "I didn't know you spoke...". Ray leaned
in and kissed him - wet and nasty with lots of tongue. Fraser didn't pull
away. In fact, he was kissing right back; stroking Ray's tongue with his
own. They were both breathing heavily when they finally ended the kiss.
Panting, Fraser said, "Perhaps I could acquaint you with a bit of Latin,
Ray." 

 Fraser proceeded to pull Ray's t-shirt off over his head and reached for
the zipper on Ray's jeans. His partner's eyebrows had climbed halfway to
his hairline, but Ray wasn't protesting. Indeed, he eagerly raised his
hips so Fraser could remove his trousers and underwear. There was another
part of Ray that clearly wasn't protesting. Ray's cock was standing tall,
flushed and leaking. 

 "Fraser, what kind of Latin do you speak with your clothes off?" Ray
asked weakly as Fraser moved to his knees in front of him. 

 "Fellatio, Ray," Fraser answered as he leaned forward and took the head
of Ray's cock into his mouth. 

 Ray moaned. It felt so good that his eyes almost rolled back into his
head, but he didn't want that. Ray wanted to watch every second of what
was becoming the best blowjob of his life. Oh, yeah, it wasn't going to
last long. Already Ray could feel the tingles coming up his spine. He
tried to speak a warning, but all that came out of his mouth was a long,
low groan. Fraser didn't seem to care. He was lapping up spunk like it was
- Ray didn't know - but something really good. 

 When Ray recovered enough to lift his head from the back of the couch, he
found Fraser still on his knees. Still watching Ray, as he had been all
day. Ray offered his hands to give Fraser a lift up. That put Ray's face
right at Fraser's crotch. He looked up at the Mountie and said, "How about
you, Frase? You ready for some of that Latin?" Then he smiled, "Or how
about Greek, you speak Greek?" He reached out and gave Fraser's cock a
little squeeze. 

 Fraser shuddered and almost came just from the touch, but managed to hold
back. He stepped away from the couch and put a hand out to Ray. "I've
never tried Greek, Ray, but I think I'd like to learn." 

 Ray let Fraser help him off the sofa and led him to the bedroom,
thinking, how did that old saying go? When in Rome? 

 The End 

End Impounded by A. Kite: AKite68163@aol.com

Author and story notes above.