3,542 words.  NO plot.	F/K, sort of PG.

Welcome Home
A Due South Story by LynnZo
July 3, 2000

****

Ray stepped off the airplane, tired and hemmed in by pissed-off
businessmen
who pushed past him as if to ask what right he had to exist in the same
air as their exalted selves.  A last-minute flight change by the airline
had gotten him a free upgrade to first class, which was great, and
suspicious
glances from his seat-mate, which wasn't.  First class had its own pecking
order, Ray had learned, and everyone from the condescending flight
attendant
to the guy in the seat next to him who acted like Ray offended him by
breathing, had let him know where he stood in it - at the bottom.  Ray
knew he must look pretty scruffy, six days of surveillance would do that
to you, and once the operation had been terminated (even the Feds had
had to admit it was a dead end), he had opted for the first flight out,
rather than a shower and a change of clothes.  He didn't look *that*
bad, at least he didn't think so until the flight attendant took one
look at him, smiled thinly, and thereafter failed noticeably to offer
him any of the first-class services Ray had so eagerly anticipated. 

What the hell, he was tired anyway.  Ray pretended to sleep for a while,
and he must have dozed off, because a sharp jab in the ribs brought him
abruptly awake, and he woke to find the guy next to him levering his
considerable bulk out of his seat by leaning on his briefcase, which
was leaning on Ray.  Ray gave way, and had the pleasure of seeing the
guy stumble and nearly fall, before the solicitous flight attendant gave
him a hand.  Ray passed the guy his briefcase with nothing more than
a mild sneer (Fraser would have been proud), and stumbled out after him
into the slightly cooler air of the concourse.	Coffee.  He wanted coffee.
No, too much coffee for too many days - water, that's what he needed.
Disoriented even in his own home airport, Ray stopped a minute in the
terminal, looking blankly from right to left, figuring out which concourse
he was on, and which way was the nearest bathroom. 

Suddenly there was a breath of air moving in front of him, fresh, clean
and even somehow cold, even in the heat of the summer evening.	Then
Fraser was there, right in front of him, grinning from ear to ear. 

"Ray!  It's good to see you.  Oops."  And Fraser caught him when he
swayed,
stumbled, and he even waited patiently while Ray blinked, shook his head
and generally did what it took to get his mind up and functioning.  

"Fraser."

"Yes, Ray, I thought I'd meet your plane, but when we arrived there was
a bit of, well, bother."  Fraser stopped, took a breath and blew it out
decisively.  Ray watched this performance with interest.  God, he'd missed
this.  He cocked his head to the side and waited. 

"Well.	You see.  Diefenbaker...  Well, he just refused to enter the
building.  He seems to associate this airport with quarantine, even though
I *told* him, *several* times that we were just meeting a plane, no need
for quarantine, he didn't seem to believe me.  Really, Ray, sometimes
I think he just does these things for attention and what's wrong with
you?" 

Ray had been just watching Fraser's mouth through half-closed eyes,
letting
the flow of words rush over him, through him, enjoying.  He hadn't
actually
been listening, so to speak, but he wasn't going to admit that to Fraser.
He straightened himself up abruptly, noticing somewhat belatedly, that
Fraser still had him by the elbows.  He pulled back, gently, a little,
and Fraser released him. 

"Nuthin, Fraser.  Just a long flight, I'm crashing a bit.  Where's Dief?"

"He's waiting on the first level of the parking garage.  He remembers
that the quarantine facilities are on the fourth level, and he absolutely
refused to climb the stairs with me.  I told him it would be a while,
indeed, it has been nearly an hour, and it took several conversations
with a very uncooperative woman in Customer Service to ascertain that
your original flight number had been changed.  Here, I'll take your
luggage."

Oh yeah, he had missed this.  Missed how Fraser would go on and on, and
then just switch tracks like it was nothin' at all for him to keep up.
Sometimes Ray didn't even try, like now.  He had a tight grip on his
duffel bag, and then his fingers were tangled up with Fraser's and it
seemed like Fraser wanted to hold his hand, which was unusual, then Fraser
was tugging and Ray caught on and let go, and followed Fraser down the
hallway. 

"I gotta just..."

And Fraser knew; "The closest facilities, I believe, Ray, are just over
here," and Ray washed his hands and splashed water on his face and tried
to come awake.	He checked his watch, which said just after midnight,
and Ray couldn't remember if it was still set on east coast time or if
he'd reset it on the plane.  Whatever.	It was late.  But he felt a lot
more awake when he rejoined Fraser in the hall, and Fraser was watching
the door for him, and he smiled, and Ray smiled back, and suddenly he
was really, really glad to see his partner. 

"Fraser."

"Yes, Ray?"

"Thanks.  For coming to pick me up.  It's, uh."  and Ray wasn't quite
sure how to say it, so he settled on, "it's been a long week." 

And Fraser looked really pleased, his cheeks even got a little pink,
and he stopped dead in his tracks and looked Ray in the eye, "You're
welcome, Ray.  I missed you too." 

They walked on a bit, found the escalators to Baggage Claim, Ray rode
with the rest of the late-night zombies while Fraser took the stairs.
He was waiting when Ray got to the bottom.  

Fraser smiled politely at the crowd of zombies and neatly cut back in
beside Ray in the flow of traffic.  "That is," and he looked a little
embarassed now, "*we* missed you."  Dief was asking this morning for
one of those pickles you gave him last week, really, *pickles* but at
least it's not deep fried," and here he glared a little at Ray, who
pretended
to be reading the monitors to find which baggage carousel his luggage
might appear on, "and since he couldn't seem to remember *which* deli
you got the pickles from, and of course, *I* didn't know because I was
on duty at the consulate that night, well, Ray as you can imagine, what
are you doing?" because Ray had pulled Fraser to the side, out of the
flow of foot traffic, and was sort of dodging around behind him. 

Ray batted ineffectually at Fraser's hand, clutching tightly at his duffel
bag, "My bag, Fraser, give me my bag, I gotta check my ticket for my
flight number or I'll never find my suitcase." 

"Flight 432, Ray," Fraser said smoothly, and Ray stopped where he was,
fingers on Fraser's on the handle of the duffel bag.  "How did you know
that?"	And he was suddenly curious.  

"Well, I told you, Ray, I had several conversations with a most unhelpful
woman at a counter which was apparently mis-labelled 'customer service'
and she told me..." 

"NO, Fraser!"  Ray interrupted this flow ruthlessly, knowing that if
he didn't, he'd hear that whole story again.  "How did you know I was
coming in today?  How did you know to meet me in the first place?  Why
are you here?" 

"Well, Ray, as I was saying, Diefenbaker was asking for a pickle, and
you know how he is," and here he rolled his eyes, "and since I want him
to do some more drills with me tomorrow night, I thought if I got him
a pickle he might..." 

Ray hit him.  Not hard, just a thwack in the shoulder, and he had to
let go of the duffel bag handle to do it, but it was worth it 'cause
Fraser shut up for a sec.  "Enough about the pickles, Fraser, I got the
pickles.  I'll find the pickles." 

And Fraser's eyes lit up and his mouth opened and Ray knew, he just
*knew*,
this was going to be more pickle-conversation, so he took the hand that
was on Fraser's shoulder and he just...muzzled...the Canadian with it.
"Listen, Fraser.  Are you listening?"  Fraser nodded, genuinely confused
at the hand firmly held over his mouth.  "One more word about pickles
and I'll pop you one.  How. Did. You. Find. Me."  Carefully, cautiously,
he took his hand off of Fraser's mouth.  He didn't take it far, though,
just back down to Fraser's shoulder.  He wanted it near, as a sort of
threat, and by the nervous glance Fraser gave it, resting there on his
shoulder, Fraser got that.  He got it. 

"Well, Ray," he started again, hesitantly this time.  "You see, I
remembered
that when you arrived at the Consulate last week from the...the
deli...with
the, "and here he cast another look at the threatening hand, "the...uh,
food, I remembered that you'd come from the station, so I stopped by
and asked Lt. Welsh if he happened to know which deli..."  and here the
hand on his shoulder sort of flexed a bit, which might have been even
more of a threat, and Fraser's voice trailed off. 

"Fraser."  Oh, that was quiet.	Not a good sign, and Fraser raised his
eyes at last from the hand on his shoulder, straightened his back, and
met Ray's eyes squarely.  He was a Mountie, after all.	He could take
it. 

Ray watched this with real enjoyment.  He loved it, just loved it, when
he had Fraser off-balance.  Grinning, he used the hand on Fraser's
shoulder
to give him a little shove towards the Baggage Claim.  Things were fine.
Things were good.  Fraser was...Fraser.  "So," he said, "was Welsh any
help at all in your quest for pickles?" 

Fraser stopped beside Baggage Claim 4, where Ray's suitcase was making
its lonely circles, businessmen and tourists alike having come and gone.
He handed Ray his duffel bag and swung the suitcase up easily.	"No,
Ray, he wasn't.  Actually, although I find Lt. Welsh to be a fine man
and a good citizen of Chicago, it must be said that he showed very little
interest in the subject of..." and here he stopped and gave Ray another
cautious glance.  Ray twinkled at him, //gotcha//, and together they
made their way to the elevators.  Fraser cleared his throat, "Anyway,
he did suggest that I ask you about the...deli...and when I mentioned
that you were out of town he told me you were returning this evening.
And since Dief and I haven't had any real exercise today, we walked out
to meet you." 

Ray turned on him in disbelief.  "You *walked*?  You walked all the way
out here?  In Chicago?" 

"Well, Ray, of course we're in Chicago..."

But Ray cut him off, "I know we're in Chicago, Fraser, of course we're
in Chicago, that's not the point.  The point is you know I don't like
you walking like that after dark.  Who knows what could happen to you
and I am not gonna be responsible for bailing you out of whatever trouble
that might come lookin for you." 

Fraser nipped neatly in the elevator before the doors could close on
him, couldn't count on Ray to hold the doors in this mood, and watched
Ray jab savagely at the (3) button.  

"Ray.  Diefenbaker is waiting on the first floor."

"Yeah, but my car is on three.	Thought we could drop this stuff off,
not have to carry it all around the airport looking for the wolf." 

Fraser said, hesitantly, "Well, Ray, it has been over an hour and a half,
and I would certainly like to..." 

Ray sighed heavily as the doors opened on level three.	He stared out
gloomily at his car, waiting patiently in the "Police Only" parking area,
and let the doors close again.	He pushed (1), and let Fraser's relieved
sigh wash over him.  They rode on down in silence. 

Diefenbaker wasn't waiting on level one.  "Big surprise," muttered Ray,
hefting his duffel bag and then his suitcase with a long-suffering air
that Fraser totally missed as he handed it over and stepped away to begin
the search for Dief, who of course was not responding to calls. 

"He can't be far, Ray, I'm sure of it.	I did tell him to wait right
here." 

Ray groaned helplessly, "I swear, Fraser, if I see you licking anything,
*anything,* I am outta here."  He pulled up his left hand against the
ever-heavier drag of his duffel bag to try to get a peek at his watch.
1:00am somewhere, if not here.	Late, tired, no wolf....  Ray let his
eyes close and he slumped back against the concrete wall, closing his
eyes. 

"Umph!"  Without warning, or maybe with warning and Ray had just dropped
off a bit, he couldn't be sure, anyway, suddenly there was a lot of wolf
jumping right up against Ray, wriggling excitedly, licking at his hands,
even barking a bit (although Dief would never admit to it later), and
Ray found himself smiling helplessly down at his other sort-of-partner.
He even dropped the duffel bag and the suitcase to ruffle Dief's fur
a bit.	What the heck, he'd missed the wolf.  Mostly, he'd missed Fraser
and Dief arguing, and he looked up and scanned the parking area for
Fraser.
"Where's Fraser, Dief?	Did you see him?  Huh?"  Dief gave a short bark
just as Fraser rounded a concrete post a few yards away. 

"Well!" said Fraser a bit huffily as he came up. "There you are.  With
Ray.  I suppose it was too much to ask that you would let me know you
were here, hmm?"  Since this last bit was apparently still directed at
Dief, Ray didn't answer, just gave the wolf a last pat on the head. 
"Don't be too hard on him, Frase, remember he's suffering from serious
pickle deprivation, here." 

Fraser frowned down at Dief in that way Ray could never decide was serious
or mock-serious.  "Dief.  Stop that.  Ray said, no licking," and he
reached
stepped firmly between Ray and Dief, who was still bouncing excitedly,
and reached down with both hands on either side of Ray to pick up the
duffel bag and the suitcase. 

Ray stood there in stunned silence for a moment, then just cracked up.
He stared down at Fraser in utter astonishment as the laughter took him
over completely.  "Fraser!" he tried to speak, then slumped helplessly
against the wall and just tried to breathe, both hands on Fraser's
shoulders
for balance. 

Fraser stood back up and just watched him, perplexed.  "Ray?  Have I
said something?" 

"Nnn.  N, nooo licking!"  Ray sputtered out, turning loose with one hand
to scrub at his streaming eyes.  "You said, no licking."  He took a deep
breath, knowing he was overtired, hoping the fit was over.  "I dunno,
Frase, it just struck me, that's all.  No licking."  and he chuckled
a bit to himself, grinning up at Fraser.  "Hey."  he said, suddenly,
"you're not wearing your uniform." 

Fraser looked down at himself, "well, no, Ray, it was after 10 when we
started out and I had been off duty for several...no licking?  Why was
that funny?  You always say that.  You hate it when I lick things.  Why,
on our last case when we...umph." 

Ray had shut down this monologue by simply muzzling Fraser again.  He
was grinning, though.  "Wait.  Whoa.  Before you get off on some other
pickle-thing, I just wanted to say, I liked it that you weren't wearing
your uniform."	And he took his hand away, brushing it lightly down
Fraser's
flannel-clad arm in passing.  Just in passing. 

As he'd hoped, Fraser was momentarily distracted.  "Why?"

Ray shrugged one shoulder awkwardly, and idly dropped the hand down pet
Dief's head.  Dief had apparently decided to obey Fraser, at least for
the moment, and had stopped trying to lick Ray.  "I dunno, Frase, I guess
it's just.  You, you know?  You coming down to pick up a friend at the
airport.  Not.	Um.  Some Mountie doing his duty.  It's nice, that's
all.  And weren't we having another conversation?" and suddenly he seemed
impatient, a little angry, and Fraser smiled at him indulgently.  He
could always tell when he'd gotten under Ray's defenses to something
important, because Ray started to fidget.  He was, too, twitching a bit
and pushing a little at Fraser's shoulder with his free hand.  Fraser
stopped this by simply leaning on him.	"Ray.  Ray.  Ray.  Ray!"  Ray
stopped pushing and looked up at him a little defiantly. 

"What is it, Fraser, get off me," and he looked confused, suddenly, and
tired and young, somehow, and Fraser couldn't help it, he'd missed Ray,
really missed him, and the last week had been terrible without him, and
so he gave in to the impulse he'd been fighting for weeks and leaned
in to his partner and said, "Licking" very, very quietly, right against
the skin of Ray's neck. 

Ray froze.  His breath caught, and Fraser pulled back his head just enough
to meet his eyes and then they were staring at each other, there in the
quiet of the first floor parking garage in the middle of
god-knows-what-time-of-the-night,
and suddenly everything had changed.  

"L, licking?"  Ray breathed, and inside he cringed at the stutter, and
he licked his lips and went to try again to speak, and only realized
what he'd done when Fraser's eyes dropped to his mouth, to his lips where
he'd licked them, and they Ray couldn't help it, he had to close his
own eyes and then breathing was optional, wasn't it, because there was
Fraser's tongue, licking him, licking *him* and it was cool and hot at
the same time and *wet* and Ray remembered he'd been thirsty when he
got off the plane, and he just opened his mouth to Fraser and drank him
in, and the coolness was gone, and there was nothing left but heat, and
wet, and Fraser. 

Ray could feel the cool concrete scrubbing at his back through the
thinness
of his shirt, he could feel the strength of Fraser's legs holding him
up, holding them both up, when Ray reached one leg around to wrap himself
around Fraser as far as he could, and he could feel the heat of Fraser's
body pushing him back against the cold concrete, and then all that was
gone as Fraser just sort of reached inside him with his tongue and started
to...to taste him, to taste every bit of him, and Ray just let it happen,
until he had to breathe, he had to, and he wrenched his mouth away,
banging
his head a bit on the concrete wall that he'd forgotten about, and gasped
in huge breaths of air, hearing the echo of it around them in the empty
garage, not caring at all.  Especially not caring when Fraser nudged
his head down into Ray's neck and started tasting him from the outside,
the *outside* this time, long wet licks from his ear to his collarbone,
and Ray breathed and let him, and would have gone on letting him, there
was lots more, lots more to be tasted and Ray had decided that licking
was just fine, just fine, except then Dief gave a short bark and there
was the *ping!* of the elevator, and Fraser raised his head and Ray pushed
weakly, weakly, and got both his legs back under him as Fraser stepped
back and the elevator doors opened and a young family got out. 

The young woman was holding a baby and a map, reading off directions,
and the young man was holding two suitcases and his car keys - they didn't
look around, never even saw the two men standing over by the wall, gasping
for breath and furiously trying to look like two semi-strangers who had
never licked anybody, anybody, and especially not each other.  Just now.

And then the couple were gone and Ray and Fraser were sighing in relief,
and Ray was laughing again, and shaking his head as he picked up his
abused luggage and handed the duffel he had now decided he hated over
to Fraser.  "Hey, Frase?" he said, trying for casual as he led the way
to the waiting elevator.  "Thanks for picking me up at the airport,
buddy."

Fraser shot him a wicked grin, and Ray caught his breath again, because
this grin was new, he thought he knew every expression on Fraser's face,
but he'd never seen this one, and it sent the blood rushing to parts
south and he just stared and breathed, and finally Fraser reached past
him to push the button for level three, moving closer to Ray to make
room for Dief in the small space. 

"You're welcome, Ray.  Don't forget the pickles."

And they headed home.

***the end***

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