Notes: This was inspired in part by a waking dream I had at Escapade
2000,	 

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 LaToot@aol.com. 

==  

Appropriate 
 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 
 be.  

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.//  

==