TITLE: A Swig Of Home
AUTHOR: Pedellea
E-MAIL: pedellea@hotmail.com
DATE: April 8, 2003
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Turnbull's idea helps bring some of Canada into the Canadian Consulate.
SPOILERS: none
DISCLAIMER: Due South belongs to Paul Haggis and Alliance. Tim Horton's belongs to its namesake and Ron Joyce, founders of this awesome institution!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: So I was sitting in the cafeteria at school, rolling up the rim on my cup of Tim Horton's medium double double and thought, "My! Wouldn't this be a fun situation to put Fraser in?" Here is the result of its extrapolation. The Ray I refer to is Ray K. I hope you enjoy the story. :o)
Oh, by the way, I won a muffin and a cookie from this year's Roll Up The Rim. And my housemate won a donut. Yum!
A SWIG OF HOME
By Pedellea
Constable Fraser was on his way to file a document when he spotted Constable Turnbull seated at the front desk, appearing to be daydreaming.
"Constable Turnbull."
He immediately snapped out of his reverie and stood to salute his superior.
"Sir!"
"At ease."
Turnbull relaxed, placing his arms behind his back.
"Constable Turnbull, may I ask what you were doing? Is there nothing you need to tend to at the Consulate that you can just allow yourself to sit here and stare at the ceiling?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but I was caught up in the moment."
"Caught up in the moment of what, Turnbull?"
"Of thinking about the things of home, sir."
"I see."
Fraser too thought much about home. Chicago was a decent place to live, but nothing compared to roaming the vast tundra of the north, breathing in the fresh, frozen air, and seeing nothing for kilometres on end. Here in Chicago, it was impossible to have a moment's peace. The quiet wintry arctic was where he belonged.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Turnbull."
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I believe I am."
"Oh, good. Do you miss it as much as I do?"
"Yes I do, Turnbull. Yes I do."
Turnbull clasped his hands together in happiness.
"This is probably a little strange, sir. But do you think we could send for some?"
Fraser was about to answer yes when he realized something was terribly amiss.
"Turnbull, what are you talking about?"
"Well, sir, it's that time of the year again, and I was really hoping..."
"What time of the year are you referring to?"
"Time to relive the Canadian pastime."
"You know the hockey season hasn't started yet."
"No, sir. It's something else..."
"We are not sending for a set of curling stones. It's simply far too frivolous and there are no ice sheets available here in Chicago for us to play."
"No, sir. That's not it either. It's not sports I'm thinking of."
Fraser sighed in frustration.
"Could you please just tell me what you are talking about, Turnbull."
"Certainly."
Turnbull took a dramatic breath in.
"Rrrroollllll up the rrrrrrimm to wiinnnnn!"
"Ahh...," Fraser nodded in comprehension. "Tim Horton's. A fine Canadian institution indeed."
Turnbull broke into a wide grin, delighted that his superior finally understood him.
"So, sir, is it feasible that we got some coffee shipped down...?"
"No. Impossible. We simply cannot spend our money in such unnecessary items as Tim Horton's coffee."
"Please, sir?"
In his mind, Fraser tasted the delectably sweet and oh-so-satisfying double double... Starbucks will never compare to this Canadian tradition.
"How would we even go about having the coffee delivered here?"
"Well, sir, I did some research," Turnbull informed, pulling out some documents from the desk drawer, "and it seems that all we need to do is call this number here and order the coffee. It should arrive in about one to two weeks."
Fraser nodded, getting a pang of excitement at the prospects of drinking Tim Horton's coffee, right here in Chicago. Perhaps he would introduce Ray to this fine point of Canadian cuisine. After all, Ray enjoys Smarties in his coffee.
"Alright, you're granted permission to make the phone call. But we will pay for the expenses ourselves. There is no way that we are allotting this into our budget."
"Yes, sir."
As Fraser turned around, Turnbull let out a squeal of joy. He shook his head, and continued his way to the filing cabinet to replace the file, smiling to himself about having the chance to drink Tim Horton's coffee on American soil.
Two Weeks Later
Inspector Thatcher walked into the Consulate, prepared for another normal and somewhat boring day at work. She was assailed with a sweet aroma of coffee that reminded her of home. Curious, she walked over to the entrance of the kitchen, where she saw Fraser, Turnbull, and Detective Vecchio seated and drinking out of mugs. She stayed by the doorway and listened to their conversation to see what chaos was happening at her Consulate, yet again.
"This is good. This is really good, Fraser. Why didn't you tell me about it before?"
"Well, Ray, there simply isn't any Tim Horton's shops nearby here at all. It was Turnbull's idea to send for some."
"Does Ice Queen know about this?"
"No, Inspector Thatcher doesn't know. We paid for it on our own."
The Inspector could take it no longer. There needs to be some disciplinary action taken. She walked into the kitchen, her hands on her hips.
"What is going on here??"
While Ray remained seated, both mounties stood up and starting speaking simultaneously about the situation. Thatcher shook her head and silenced them with her hand, not understanding anything coming out of the two men's mouths.
"Speak coherently, please."
They looked at each other, and Fraser nodded at Turnbull, for him to explain the situation.
"Well, sir, I had a craving for it and after conferring with Constable Fraser, we ordered some. It was paid with our own expenses, and in no way did we utilize the funds for the Consulate."
"Fraser?"
"Everything he said is correct, sir."
Thatcher sighed hard. It is embarrassing to see her officers act so impulsively. The discipline and strict standards of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was quickly dissolving into pieces, at least under her control. She would have disciplined them right then and there, but Detective Vecchio was in their presence.
"I will speak with you two later, in my office."
She sniffed the sweet smelling air again, and curiosity got the best of her.
"What is that?"
"The coffee, sir?"
"Yes. It smells very familiar."
"It's Tim Horton's, sir."
"Tim Horton's?"
"Yes, sir."
"THE Canadian Tim Horton's?"
"Yes, sir. I wasn't aware there was an American one."
Thatcher thought back to her childhood in Toronto, when her father used to take her to Tim Horton's for hot chocolate and a donut. She remembered her high school days, meeting up with friends and sipping French vanilla cappuccinos while chatting about their lives.
"Sir?"
Thatcher tuned back into the world.
"Make me a cup, double double, and bring it up. I have calls to make." "Right on it, sir!"
As Turnbull busied himself happily, Thatcher turned and left the kitchen. Ray spoke up, after draining his first cup of Tim Horton's coffee.
"Man, Ice Queen sure is demanding."
"Well, that's Inspector Thatcher for you."
"Hey, Turnbull. Make me another cup while you're at it."
"No can do, Detective Vecchio! I've got a cup of double double to deliver!"
Turnbull rushed out of the room, coffee cup in hand. Fraser and Ray both shook their heads.
"So, Fraser. Are there any other Canadian treasures you're keeping from me?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, yes Ray. There's many things you are not aware of, such as the ever popular poutine, the tourtière from the province of Québec, fish and brewis from the East coast, bannock from the aboriginals of the country, beaver tails from..."
"Beaver... never mind. Forget I ever asked."
"Well, Ray, if you ever want to know, just ask again."
Ray rolled his eyes.
"I'll keep that in mind."
THE END
I get some really strange inspirations for this show! Anyway, if you're interested, the Tim Horton's site is as follows:
I hope you enjoyed this silly little piece of story. It was fun writing it! Please read and review. Thanks!