A/N: For those of you who only started paying attention when I changed it to a Fraser/Thatcher pairing: For shame. It's like you didn't even care if Ray got any. Just kidding. Enjoy. Read the note at the end about character ages.

The next morning, Fraser woke up at his normal time, with a smile on his face. He had initially been concerned because they had no "protection" but Meg had explained that she had just finished her menses. And while the Rhythm method of birth control was notoriously easy to make an error with, in this case the chances of having an accidental conception were so remote as to not be worth considering.

After their "lessons", Meg had said that she would be making an appointment to visit her gynecologist. She was nearly due for her annual checkup anyway and could ask for a prescription for the proper birth control. She was not going to suffer using a condom for more than a minimum amount of time. And since she had finally gotten him, she planned on enjoying it.

Even if, he mused, an unintentional pregnancy occurred, he thought he had found the right person and such an incident would not truthfully horrify him at all.

He considered that he was in his later thirties and Meg was in her mid thirties. If they did decide to have children, it should be soon – perhaps within three years. He rolled his eyes as he considered that such would make his father happy.

Even as he had that thought, he realized that he might need to explain to Meg that particular phenomenon. Now that he and the Inspector were in a relationship, his father's ghost would be insufferable in goading him into procreating.

That was going to be a nightmare.

Fraser quickly and silently got out of the bed so as not to disturb his lover. He had to learn to think of her as his lover when they were in private or in social situations and his superior while at the consulate or in official functions.

He was not as confident in his ability to be flexible as most would assume he would be. Or perhaps not – many knew how rigid he was in maintaining decorum.

He used the bathroom taking a quick shower. He had no interest in the various feminine cleaning products but there was a bar of Dove soap. He sniffed it and decided that it was acceptable.

He ensured that he cleaned the bar. Whenever he had used common facilities, nothing offended him quite so much as soap bars circumstances demanded be shared which had not been properly rinsed off to ensure one person's leftover hair and/or body oils did not contaminate the experience for the other person/persons requiring its use.

Such was downright unhygienic.

In the past, one particular person had argued that it was soap and that one would be clean by the end anyway, but the argument had not moved him. And then he made sure he never had to share soap with that individual again.

Benton Fraser was not so un-reacting to life's messes as he made himself out to be.

Coming out of the bathroom, he checked on Meg and found she was still asleep. The clock said 5:48 and the small light on the clock display indicated that it was on and set for a time. His difficulty was that he did not know what time it was set for.

He tried to calculate based on his past experiences as to when the Inspector typically showed at the consulate, his estimation of travel distances, previous experience during instances where she had slept elsewhere (not many that he knew of) and everything else he could think of which might be a variable in the equation.

His mind provided an answer of 6:17. As to why such might be the setting was beyond him but that was the answer he had calculated.

Quietly he walked down the hallway and into the living area. Looking around, he carefully worked to return the room to the state it had been in when the two had arrived the night before. He based his decisions on what to save and what to discard on long experience with the Inspector at the Consulate.

At least in that he was confident.

The leftover potato chip he had discarded and the leftover crackers he wrapped up and put in the cupboard.

And then he contemplated the kitchen for a long moment.

Inspector Thatcher, Meg, was particularly possessive of those areas which she considered "hers" – especially things which were contained therein. And that included food – he blamed Diefenbaker for his constant attempts to violate his instructions as the sanctity of what was hers. She was the Alpha and he knew this. He just enjoyed making a nuisance of himself.

However that personal possessiveness made him hesitate as he contemplated what he should do. Should he make her breakfast? That would be the polite thing. But what would she prefer? That would require perusal of her kitchen and refrigerator.

And that would be an intrusion.

His new status as her lover made him confident that he could intrude on her body with minimum agitation, but intruding upon her domain was a far different kettle of fish.

What made these decisions more difficult was this: Inspector Margaret "Meg" Thatcher was completely impatient with uncertainty or hesitation in acting upon the matters at hand. He thought that she disliked errors far less than uncertainty. Errors could be forgiven and/or corrected, uncertainty showed a defect of character.

And so he move forward to peruse the supplies at hand and the equipment available.

Through his perusal he determined that she liked to eat eggs in the morning as well as orange juice but often settled for cereal for convenience's sake. She did not require bacon but she would not shun it. But she did like cooked cereal with it – farina (cream of wheat) he determined. .

As to how she preferred her eggs, he calculated that she preferred poaching them. Inspection of her cooking equipment as well as other factors determined this.

Nodding to himself, he began to work.

Right at 6:17, he heard the alarm. A minute later soft footfalls sounded from the hall and he looked over. Meg walked into view with a curious look. "Good morning, Meg," he said quietly. "I have breakfast ready for you."

She looked at him in confusion (she was still waking up) and said, "You were missing when I awoke."

"Yes." He walked over and pulled her into an embrace, kissing her. She was suddenly more awake – and smiling. "I awaken earlier than you, I suppose. But I have a poached egg for you as well as cream of wheat with a small dab of butter, with orange juice. I am eating a similar breakfast."

Her eyes lit up. "I love poached eggs. It is not often I have the time. How did you know?"

He smiled. "Lucky guess. Now sit down and eat. You need to recover your strength."

She smiled at him and said, "Entirely your fault, I assure you."

"I take full responsibility."

They began eating. At a certain point he asked, "6:17?"

She smiled. "Yes. On days that I feel lazy I hit snooze twice and wake up at 6:35 – which necessitates forcing me to awareness. 6:26 allows me to hit snooze once but work steadily to arrive at the consulate without rush. 6:17 is when I have to rush to get there right at the beginning of your work and not official shift time or when I am feeling well refreshed and want to take my time for a proper breakfast."

He shook his head. "It sounds far too complicated to calculate regularly. I prefer just to wake up at 5:30 and to begin my day."

She smiled. "The system works for me. Though waking up to find breakfast already prepared is quite nice as an alternate. I may have to change it to 6:26 as the default it this continues."

His eyes gleamed. "Or you make it 6:08, let me make breakfast every morning and use the extra time for intimacy."

She took a sip of orange juice and said, "There might be value to your way of thinking."

He smiled and ate more of his cereal. He had noticed one thing. "Do you not make your own coffee?"

She sighed. "It is an indulgence. I like well-made coffee but I like it prepared to spec. Doing it myself is … well, I would prefer no coffee than having to do such work and measure so carefully in the morning. That is why I always buy my morning coffee – it is less annoying."

"Ah. Perhaps you could instruct me as to how you prefer your morning coffee prepared; that may be preferable in the long run."

She smirked at him and said, "Another lesson?"

With a straight face he said, "I enjoy your lessons. They are … educational."

At that she actually laughed.

He finished before her and started cleaning up. She finished and brought her dishes to the sink for him to rinse off and put in the dishwasher. As she turned away, he reached out with a wet hand and squeezed her bottom. She turned and said, "Corporal! Do you consider manhandling you superior officer in such a way proper and respectful decorum?"

He looked at her and with a straight face said, "In this particular circumstance? Yes."

She looked at him with her mock annoyance and then finally smiled. "Well, as long as you consider it proper." She started to turn away, turned back, and then squeezed his bottom. She cocked her eyebrow in amusement as she looked at him, "Equal rights and opportunities for equal genders."

He had a small smirk. "Of course, Inspector."

With that she leaned into him, put her face up to his, and kissed him gently before walking back to shower and dress.

By 7:45, the two were pulling up to begin their day. By his calculation, Fraser had lost 30 minutes already.

He immediately began plans to ensure that neither he nor the Consulate would suffer from a change in his routine. He liked waking up with Meg Thatcher and he planned to do it far into the future.

By 8:00, the Consulate had begun operations. While most businesses began at 9:00, Chicago was Central time and coordinated with Ottawa, which was on Eastern time. They were, after all, a Canadian installation.

Turnbull had been assigned sentry, which was posted until 12:00. This was not meant as punishment but was because Fraser, as Beach's direct superior, would have to ensure that he was fully operational as quickly as possible.

Beach listened carefully to his instructions as to how different it was manning a consulate rather than an RCMP office.

Near to 9:00, Ray Vecchio walked in to the Consulate, wolf in tow. "Fraser. How did things go?" Diefenbaker wuffed a greeting and ran toward Fraser's office.

Fraser looked in that direction for a moment and then turned back to Ray. "In what respect?" he asked innocently.

Ray looked at him with annoyance. "With the Ice Queen! Did you two …." He paused and then changed his mind. He scratched his neck. "Did you and Inspector Thatcher have a nice night?"

"Our plans were eminently successful."

Ray nodded. "Which is all you'll say – which I can now appreciate. Anyway – is Meers here yet?"

"Superintendent Meers called to say that he would arrive at 9:30. You will then travel with him to the courthouse at 10:00 and then to the airport with the prisoner."

"That works. Okay. I can hang out until 9:30." He looked at Beach. "How is this guy working out?"

"Constable Beach has successfully begun his duty station and seems to be a valuable addition to the Consulate. Which brings up another matter. I have assigned Constable Beach to all information retrievals for American authorities required of the Consulate. Rather than asking myself or bullying Turnbull into providing such, Constable Beach is the individual responsible for these things now. You may call him any time he is on duty."

Ray said, "It's not bullying, it's convincing."

"Of course."

Beach actually looked worried. "Is the Detective apt to use excessive aggression?"

Fraser gave brief smile. "No. Detective Vecchio – Ray – is my best friend as well as my partner. I was, as the saying goes, 'just busting his chops' – he enjoys the repartee and it is amusing at times."

"Understood."

As Beach made a note to look it up in an American slang dictionary, Ray rolled his eyes. Canadians.

Fraser verified with Beach and Ray the proper procedures, including Inspector Thatcher's role as Commissioner of Oath and the precinct's use of Notaries Public. As the Consulate would now see increased requests from other departments, he had to be aware of instructions to give them in such matters.

Due to a sighed agreement the Chicago PD and local FBI office could achieve access much more quickly. If they had repeated contact with another policing agency, Beach was directed to alert Corporal Fraser for the possibility of the necessity of coordinating another such formal agreement.

Meers arrived to the consulate on foot. When Ray saw that, he said, "Superintendent? I would have been willing to pick you up. And you could have called Beach here and he would have arranged for you to be brought here."

Meers chuckled. "I am not so old that a small two mile walk would be at all taxing. I decided I wished to enjoy the morning air, despite the exhaust of the diesel locomotive engines." Chicago had many trains.

Ray huffed. "Canadians."

Fraser looked at Ray and said, "If you wish to voice disbelieving annoyance, I believe the proper utterance would be 'Mounties'. Many Canadians, especially those who live in urban environments, prefer vehicular transportation." Beach nodded, Meers had an amused look in his eye, and Ray looked at Fraser in disbelief.

"Fine." He exaggerated a huff. "Mounties."

"Do you not feel better?" Fraser asked innocently.

Ray just looked mulish. Meers' tone was amused as he said, "Let me do my final check with Inspector Thatcher and then we can go obtain our prisoner."

Beach immediately went to alert Inspector Thatcher.

Meers commented to Fraser, "Corporal. You seem in a very good mood this morning."

"Yes, Sir. I do believe that to be the case."

Thatcher had appeared from her office and had overheard. She stifled her own smile. "Superintendent. I believe that I have successfully packaged all communiqués and reports for RCMP Headquarters." She put down the large, sealed envelope.

"Excellent, Inspector." He picked them up. "Inspector Thatcher. Your installation has been doing excellent work. We will expect that to continue into future."

"Of course, Sir."

"Very well. Detective? If you would?"

Ray shook his head as he led Meers out to his car.

Fraser was at his desk finishing some paperwork despite his father's ghost annoying him when a knock sounded.

He gave his father a look asking him to be quiet and called out, "Come in."

The door opened and Thatcher walked in. "Corporal. I was going over the proposed duty …." She had looked up from what she was holding and suddenly paused. In a voice sounding disbelief she asked, "Who are you?"

Fraser's eyes widened. "Sir? You can see him?"

In an annoyed voice she said, "He is standing right there."

Bob Fraser looked at Thatcher and said, "She can see me."

Diefenbaker gave a whining bark.

"Oh, dear." Fraser got up and walked to the door. After glancing out, he pushed it closed. "You can see him."

She huffed. "Yes. Who is he?" She looked at Fraser Sr. "Who are you?"

Fraser Senior said, "Sergeant Robert Fraser, late of the RCMP."

She looked at him in disbelief. "Are you not …."

"Dead? Oh yes. Quite dead."

"And yet you are standing here."

"Of course." He pointed toward the door. "I have my office there."

"In the closet?"

"Well, it was convenient."

Thatcher couldn't believe it.

Fraser sighed. "After his death and during a time I was wishing for his advice on a case, I was reading his journal for clues as to how he would approach it. He appeared in Detective Vecchio's … well, the former Detective Vecchio's car, not the current one. And for reasons going beyond understanding, he has been able to appear randomly at times. No one can see him except myself and Diefenbaker. Which I can tell you been at times caused me some embarrassment."

Thatcher looked at him for a moment and said, "So all of those times I thought you were talking to yourself …"

"Yes. It is most likely I was talking to him."

She paused for a moment and said, "I see. Well, at least I know my subordinate is not as unhinged as I thought him to be when I observed such."

"No. He's not crazy. Just a bit uncertain at times which is why I try to help out and give him direction."

She looked at him and asked, "And why are you here right now?"

"Well, now that he's in a relationship – and by the way, I do approve of your greatly."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

"You should get used to calling me Dad. But as I was saying, now that he is in a relationship, I was asking him when I could see some grandchildren."

"Dad. We just started this relationship and we have not discussed it. You're just going to have to wait until things I'm comfortable and she's ready to talk about that." Fraser's tone was plaintive.

Thatcher wanted to be annoyed, she really did, but Fraser was quite amusing. "Nothing like an annoying parent to make one feel and act like a teenager. This is the first time I have ever heard you use contractions."

Fraser was embarrassed. "I am sorry, Sir. He tends to bring out my less desirable qualities."

"As parents often do." She paused and said, "And I think for this discussion the proper appellation is 'Meg' – as Inspector I cannot discuss the possible haunting of my Corporal without official notice." This was really amusing her.

Bob Fraser said, "Well. I'll leave you two to talk. And if the subject of children comes up, that would not be out of line." He went to the closet door and walked through, closing it.

Curious she went to the closet and opened it, only seeing a closet. She looked at Fraser with curiosity. "I have never understood it either."

"Well. Something to discuss when we are off duty."

"Of course, Sir."

"As to the duty roster, I need a few clarifications." She handed over the paper. "I expect that to be returned to me quickly after you make those clarifications."

"Yes, Sir."

"Carry on, Corporal."

She left the room.

Fraser looked at the now-closed door with disbelief. He could not understand how casually she had reacted.

Meg went back to her desk to continue her day. She sat down and paused as the surrealism of what had just occurred struck her. She was distracted out of that thought by a voice.

"He was right, you know. You should consider having children."

She looked over in disbelief. "Grandmother?" Her voice sounded disbelief.

"Yes, Margaret." Only her grandmother called her Margaret as Meg was her namesake. "It is good to see you. You have finally found a man I quite approve of and he makes you happy. Now I want you to experience the joy of motherhood. Your career gives you satisfaction, but it is nothing like the joy of having a child."

She looked at her grandmother and said to herself, "He has infected me with insanity. His semen must provide the contagion."

"Margaret," the specter sounded disapproving. "Your man's semen is not something you talk to your grandmother about."

"Sorry, Grandma." Her tone was contrite.

"That is alright." Her grandmother smiled. "But you probably enjoyed the process of coming into contact with the semen." The smile had taken on a wicked tone.

"Grandma!" Meg strangled the sound out.

"I wanted to stop by and say I approved. And children would be nice to see." She disappeared suddenly.

Meg looked at the place her grandmother had appeared, the woman she had loved as a little girl who had died when she was 14. Meg considered she really needed to talk to Fraser about these things.

Ray had gone with Meers to the airport, prisoner in tow. It was Air Canada and Meers had much more flexibility than he enjoyed on American planes.

Meers finally marched the man off, Chantell taking pictures. As a special passenger, Meers got on first to make certain it was safe for the other passengers by having the prisoner secured first.

Chantell turned to Ray. "It has been fun spending time with you. I really am happy France brought be along. Especially Sunday night." She added the last with a real grin.

Ray smiled bashfully. "I enjoyed things just as much."

"The next time you are in Canada, a visit would not be amiss, even if it was just to say hello and good to see you."

"I'll do that."

"Good." She stepped forward and hugged him, kissing him though it wasn't as heavy as other ones.

Chantell turned to France. "I will see you in a few days."

"Au revoir, Chantell. Tell our editor that I will back Friday night." The two hugged and exchanged double kisses on the cheek. Chantell turned and went to get ready to board.

Ray looked at France and said, "I thought you were here another week?"

"The extra work has impressed ze paper's management. I am to be given more current events to report on while still working on ze Mountie in Chicago Feature. But no other features. It is a promotion."

Ray smiled. "That's great. I'm glad to hear they recognize your skill."

France smiled happily. "I thought I would be stuck in features for two or three more years. It is wonderful." She looked at Ray and said, "And because we will not 'ave ze weekend, I expect you in my 'otel room every night until Friday morning. I 'ad planned on more times for sex with you zen I will be able to 'ave now."

Ray grinned a bit bashfully. "I can do that."

Fraser got out of the consulate at 12:00 and the two of them returned to their normal ways Tuesday afternoon. No huge cases but the regular cases that Ray was assigned.

By 6:00, Ray had brought Fraser back to the consulate. As they walked in with Diefenbaker following Ray spoke to Fraser. "Frase? I'm sorry but I kinda will be busy this week at night and we won't be able to hang out much."

"Oh?" he asked.

"Yeah." Ray got bashfull. "France Fennety is leaving Friday instead of Monday and wanted me to spend my free time with her. I hope that's not a problem."

"That will not be a problem, Detective," a voice sounded before Fraser could answer.

Fraser turned. "Inspector." He had not been aware she was outside of her office.

The Inspector said, "We are off duty – it is Meg."

"Of course."

"Ray. Private discussions between myself and Ben, as well as other signs, have indicated that he is willing to live with me." Fraser knew that it was meeting his father that she spoke of. He had not been told about her Grandmother. "As you are not available, we can spend this week learning to cohabitate." She huffed. "And I will have to learn to get used to the wolf." Her tone was amused exasperation.

Diefenbaker gave a whining huff. "Yes. You are coming to live with me as well. I expect you to behave properly and not chew up my slippers or do other things that will annoy me."

Fraser looked at Thatcher with a deer-in-the-headlights look. "I was not aware that you could understand Diefenbaker."

Thatcher paused. "This was the first time I was certain of what he was saying."

"Ah."

She spoke to Ray again. "I expect by next week I will be happy to have Fraser out of the apartment for a night to myself. So things will return to normal and you should enjoy yourself this week."

Ray grinned. "Right. Thanks."

"As you are his friend and he will be living at our apartment, you may come over this weekend to spend time with us. There will be several playoff games and, if you are not busy on a case, I am certain Fraser would enjoy your company." She paused and said with a snarky tone. "I will learn to deal with it."

"I'll try not to make a mess," Ray was still grinning at her.

"Good. Now. As you are off duty and Fraser has a limited number of personal items, perhaps you would be willing to assist us in moving them."

"I can do that."

"Ben? Go pack. You are moving out of the Consulate and are going to be living with me."

"Understood, Meg."

Thatcher mused as they traveled to her … their … apartment that she was acting a bit out of character. Romance did not progress to cohabitation so easily. But she was certain, he seemed certain, and the thought of him being around there every morning which their breakfast had brought up were too alluring for her to hem and haw about it.

She was under no illusion that it would be perfect – living with another person took real work and the willingness to compromise – but she had decided it was worth the effort.

She was happy and she wanted to remain happy; thus her demand that he move in right away. She smirked as she thought, 'Besides. He needs to learn to make coffee the way I like it in the morning.'

Fraser was apprehensive. But he agreed with his lover/superior. The time this week without him worrying about spending time with Ray would give them a true chance to learn to live together. And he was in agreement with her: He had no plans to allow this relationship to fall apart. They would be for life.

He had dedicated himself to that the night before; and she was quite amenable, which was a relief.

It took an hour from their arrival until the apartment had been properly set up. Fraser took Diefenbaker out for a walk and to learn the neighborhood while Meg showered and prepared food. She slipped the wolf a treat when Ben was relieving himself and the wolf seemed appreciative.

During the meal they had discussed Fraser's father – to her great amusement – and she had admitted to seeing her grandmother, which surprised him.

By 9:30, Meg was sitting on the Ben's lap – her new favorite chair to curl up in – and they were watching the end of the night's game.

During the last commercial break Fraser said, "It was a bit of a surprise that you brought me here so quickly. I had thought that it would take much more time until you were truly comfortable with the idea."

Meg replied, "To be truthful, I expect that I am rushing in a bit. But events have conspired toward this – even you extra duty station was a factor – and I decided that I would prefer not to hesitate."

"I am definitely not averse to it."

"Good." She smirked and said, "Besides, there is a practical aspect."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I expect that at times you will annoy me. It would be a violation of RCMP guidelines to use my position as your superior officer to punish you in your duties." She looked up at him still smirking. "This way I can punish you by locking your bedroll in with me in the bedroom. When I banish you to the couch, you will not be able to sleep on the floor. And this couch, while wonderful to snuggle on, is far too soft for you to sleep well. I expect that such will be a suitable punishment when needed."

Diefenbaker whined and huffed from his place near the door. "Yes. Meg is more devious than even I had expected."

She snickered and dropped her head back to his chest. "When it happens, remember that at least you were warned."

"Understood."

When the game ended, Meg got up. She looked at Diefenbaker. "Rule of the house: You are not to disturb us when the bedroom door is closed unless such will prevent you from messing up our den. And you had best not use this unnecessarily or I will be annoyed. Do you understand?"

Dief wuffed.

"Good." She turned to Fraser. "I will be getting ready for bed. I expect you to arrive at the bedroom door in four minutes and in the same manner as last night."

Fraser suppressed his smile. "If that is your wish."

"It is."

Meg was standing waiting in what she now referred to as her "fuck me" heels. When Fraser knocked and came in, he looked to be quite willing. She looked at him over her glasses and said, "I expect a demonstration of your understanding of the Third Lesson: Cunnilingus."

She sat on the bed and spread her legs.

He replied, "Yes, Ms. Thatcher." He then came over and dropped to his knees.

As he started she mused that she really enjoyed wearing glasses.

A/N: As far as the age of their characters, I originally planned to use their real ages. However, Fraser had thirteen years in as indicated in the pilot. All indications were that he joined the RCMP at the earliest convenience. Which would have been 19 years old. Maybe 20. Which would have made him younger. Part of the problem is that the show lasted five years (1994 to 1999) but only four seasons. It took nearly a year from the pilot until the show actually started.

Paul Gross was 38/39 during the second to final season. I finally decided on 36/37. Camilla Scott was 35/36. Since I am shaving off 2 years from him, I am shaving off two years from her. Gender equality and all that. Indications in the show was that she was three years younger. Maybe two. But 33/34 sounds about right. "Inspector Thatcher" made Inspector at 31 or so I believe, which puts her arrival at the consulate as a fairly early assignment, possibly her first with the rank of Inspector. Which would explain her obsession with things being right and her hatred at first of things which were "unorthodox". So although their age isn't as god-awful important as my attention to writing about it would indicate, that is the basis of what I decided to write.