Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, Alliance does.
by Kittie
"Come on, come on...." The-Detective-Currently-Known-as-Ray-Vecchio patted down his pockets, searching frantically for a stick of his ever-present Big Red chewing gum. "Dammit!"
His partner, Benton Fraser, RCMP, raised one elegant eyebrow. "Is there a problem, Ray?"
"Yes, there's a problem, Fraser," he answered irritably, knowing there was no time for him to run to the nearest drugstore and restock his supply. "I'm outta gum!"
"I find myself somewhat surprised that a shortage of gum would cause you this level of distress, Ray," Fraser admitted slowly. "Couldn't you wait-"
"No, I cannot wait, Fraser! I need my gum!"
"Now?"
"Yes!"
Ray was breathing hard by now, sweat breaking out on his forehead. His hands were shaking. Of course, none of this escaped Fraser's notice.
"Are you in pain, Ray?"
Ray opened his mouth to yell at the Canadian and stopped himself just in time. It wasn't Fraser's fault, he reminded himself. He hadn't told him. "I have... a problem, Fraser," he managed, his teeth clenched. Fraser just cocked his head, patiently waiting. "I... I used to smoke. Not too long ago. And I need the gum, see, I need something in my mouth or I get cravings. And I wasn't chewing in court, 'cause I can't, but now I really, really need something and I'm gonna go nuts if I can't get any freakin' gum!"
His voice had risen into a yell by the end of the monologue, and Ray found himself wondering why he hadn't just let himself yell at Fraser in the first place, as it would have been easier. Fraser, in the meantime, looked taken aback by this revelation.
"Well," he finally said, giving Ray a blinding smile. "Why didn't you just say so?" And with that, he reached into the pouch he kept hanging on his belt and pulled out a package of mints.
Ray's mouth dropped open and he stared. He stared at the bag and he started at Fraser and then back again. "You gotta be kiddin' me," he muttered.
Fraser's smile faltered. "Is there a problem?"
Dumbfounded, Ray reached out and took the offering. He shook his head at the name on the label. "Canada Peppermints, Fraser? Canada Peppermints?"
"I know it's not gum, Ray, but it is something you can place in your mouth until you are able to purchase more."
"Canada Peppermints? Jeezus, Fraser!" Ray ripped open the package and popped one of the mints into his mouth. It was good, and it took the edge off his craving immediately, but he wasn't about to admit that to Fraser.
"I'm afraid I don't understand your incredulity-"
"You're in America, Fraser. America. Not Canada."
"Well, yes, but-"
"Does everything have to be Canadian with you? This is Chicago! Buy some Chicago Peppermints!"
"I really don't think that such a brand exists, Ray. And besides, those mints are really very tasty."
"So you bought 'em because they were tasty?" Ray handed the bag back after snagging a few of the candies to store in his pockets for emergencies.
"Well...." Fraser took one of the mints for himself before he put the bag back in his pouch.
"No, you bought 'em 'cause they was Canadian. You gotta get with the program, Fraser. Sometimes you take this Canadian thing too far."
"Well, I am Canadian, Ray," Fraser pointed out, in his blandest and most practical tone of voice.
Ray rolled his eyes again. "Believe me, I know."
"And you didn't mind my being Canadian when I introduced you to Smarties."
"Well...." This time, it was Ray's turn to hedge away from the question.
"You won't even eat American M&M's anymore."
"That was very smug and not at all Mountie-like, Fraser."
Fraser only smiled. "We'll make a Canadian out of you yet, Ray."
"Just get in the damned car."
"Understood."
Note: Canada Peppermints really exist! I have two bags of 'em. They were, however, a gift, so I don't know where to get them.