Ray's Apartment ….
Ray had spent all Friday afternoon cleaning his apartment for Fraser's bachelor party. He and Huey had gone to the grocery and bought man food; chips, dip, a selection of lunch meats, and had
pre-ordered enough pizza for a small army. It was less than twenty-four hours until the wedding and there had been little time to plan a proper party. Lieutenant Welsh had pulled a few strings with an old friend and got Ben and Meg a realtor to find an apartment. There had been obstetrician's appointments, moving, wedding plans, and a million other things to be done before the big day. Turnbull had been helping in his off time, taking care of the invitations, chapel reservations, flowers, reception hall reservations, and catering. Meg didn't know how she would have managed without the junior Mountie. His days as her secretary had come in handy.
About six o'clock Saturday night the guys from the precinct began drifting in to Ray's apartment. He had set up a poker table complete with plastic chips, no money attached of course. He and Huey had laid in a variety of both alcoholic and nonalcoholic beverages for the guys. Lieutenant Welsh had agreed to pick Fraser up on his way to the party.
"Fraser, come on, it's beer and pizza with the guys, not a black tie shin dig." Welsh urged the Mountie as he stood in the door way of Fraser's office.
"Understood Leftenant." Benton pronounced the rank with his usual, Mountie eccentricity. Diefenbaker danced around, the scent of excitement rolling off the older human promised treats. A moment later Ben had collected his Stetson and slipped into his leather bomber jacket and they were on their way to Ray's.
TYKTYKTYK
A half dozen or so people had gathered at the replacement detective's apartment expecting a toned down party, it was for Fraser after all. Most of them stood with a cup of something to drink and a slice of pizza freshly delivered from Giovanni's Pizza, the best delivery place for blocks around. An excited wolf announced Welsh and Fraser's arrival.
"Hey guys, who's dealing stud?" Welsh said as he found his way to the sausage pizza box.
"Hi, Sir, we were waitin' for you all to get here." Ray closed the door behind them.
"Is everyone here?" Welsh slid out of his jacket as he held his pizza in his free hand.
"Constable Turnbull was to attend, it appears he hasn't arrived yet." Fraser pointed out. The Mountie took a paper plate and a slice of pizza and then rummaged around until he found a ginger ale in Ray's refrigerator.
"Ah, come on, let's get started, Turnbull probably doesn't even play poker, he won't miss anything." Huey took a sip of his drink and walked over to the round table taking up most of Ray's living area.
"Alright, I'll deal." Welsh took a seat first, opening up a brand new deck of cards. His stubby fingers moved with liquid grace as he began dealing. Fraser was impressed as he stood on the outer rim of guys at the table.
"Hello everyone." Turnbull's bright voice broke into the bantering around the poker table. The junior Mountie held a plastic bowl full of cookies of different kinds. A few of the guys traded disappointed looks.
"Come on in, Turnbull, we were just getting started." Huey tossed a five dollar chip of imaginary money into the pile growing in the middle of the table. The African American detective pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket and drew the length beneath his nose, savoring the rich scent.
"Thank you, Detective Huey, I believe I'll eat first." The blond Mountie found a paper plate, greeting a few of the detectives as he helped himself to the food on the kitchen counter. He too found a ginger ale in Ray's refrigerator.
The evening progressed, some of the guys watching sports on Ray's television while they waited for someone to fold their poker hand and quit the game for a while. Detective Dewey quit pretty early on, too interested in telling stories of other bachelor parties he'd been part of to play properly. At eleven o'clock a knock on the door interrupted a serious game between Fraser, Welsh, Ray and two beat cops. Dewey opened the front door.
"Hey handsome, can we come in?" A buxom blonde purred as she sashayed into Ray's apartment. A red head and a brunette followed, all three dressed in cop outfits that showed far more than their badges. One of them carried a battery powered CD player blaring an old disco tune turned up full blast.
"I'm here to arrest Benton Fraser." The blonde said, pulling a pair of handcuffs from between her surgically enhanced breasts.
"Ah, which department are you with, Miss?" Fraser stood up, bewildered.
"I'm Miss Behavin', and I'm here to take you in." The blonde introduced herself, edging toward the Mountie on six inch, black heels.
"I believe there's been a misunderstanding." Benton began edging backward.
"Hey ladies, thanks for clearing your schedules for this." Dewey called as the redhead began ruffling his hair.
"Anything for you, Darling Dewey." The woman pouted her fire engine red lips as she toyed with his shirt buttons.
"Dewey, I told you not to do this, get 'em outta here." Ray folded his cards and stood up to try and peel the blonde off Fraser. She'd cornered him in the kitchen to where the poor Mountie was climbing onto the bar, trying to make his way back to the living room, his face beet red.
"Ah, come on, it's a bachelor party for cryin out loud, there's gotta be girls or it ain't normal." Dewey argued, his voice whiny as the red head began pulling his shirt out of his pants.
"It was just supposed to be poker and pizza." Ray was hot under the collar about having his party upstaged. Strangling Dewey seemed like a better and better idea the more he contemplated it.
The brunette dancer had took hold of Turnbull, chasing him around the kitchen and into the bathroom where he took refuge in the shower stall.
"I just love the way your eyes stand out, kinda like diamonds." She purred, edging closer as Turnbull tried to hold the shower curtain between them.
"I dated a Canadian once, a hockey player actually, he wasn't very good in bed." She reached around the shower curtain, slapping a pair of old fashioned manacles onto the junior Mountie's wrist, the other end clamped down on her own arm.
"Miss, I don't know what you think is going on here, but I can assure you, this isn't my bachelor party, it's for Constable Fraser." Turnbull let her drag him out into the bathroom floor, the shower curtain pulled halfway off it's rings.
"I don't care if it's for the mayor, I'd like to get to know you better, get me a piece of that Canadian bacon." She drew one long, red fingernail down his cheek as she pushed him up against the bathroom door. Turnbull turned as pale as clean toilet paper, swallowing hard as she pressed against him.
"That's very flattering but I just not, uh, not, well you see, I don't believe you and I have very much in common, it just wouldn't work out. I'm sure you're a lovely," He paused, making sure it was a woman. "A very lovely young woman, any gentleman would be lucky to receive your, your attention." The Mountie fumbled, trying to let her down easy, wishing she would let him out of the small space.
"Come outta there, we're sendin the three of yous back to where ever you came from." Ray shouted as he tried to open the bathroom door. The junior Mountie squirmed away as far as he could, the manacle clamped down on his captor's wrist. Black leather lacing had been woven through the medal links.
"Turnbull, come on, get out of those and let the lady get on her way." Ray shooed them out of his bathroom and into the living room. The place looked like a disaster area. Popcorn lay strewn on the rug and a big beer stain on the couch. Ray was not a happy camper. The party had been going fine until Dewey's surprise blew in like triplet tornadoes. Two out of three of them stood in the living room, mad as hornets and feeling insulted.
Turnbull began trying to get the manacle off his right hand, to no avail. The lock was firmly latched, unmoving.
"Miss, would you please give me the key?" Turnbull turned to the young woman. She stood beside him, her free hand on her hip, her uniform blouse unbuttoned to her waist, a red bra showcasing her assets.
"Miss, please, my I have the keys?" He asked again, pulling on the medal tie between them.
"Yeah, yeah, give me a minute." The brunette began digging in the pockets of her uniform pants but came up with lint. "I thought Mounties weren't supposed to be wimpy." She muttered as she tried a second time.
"Diana, have you got the keys to these things?" The blonde began digging in her pockets as well.
"No, Sparks, I don't." She shrugged.
"What about you, Neo?" The brunette, Sparks, asked the red head. The dancer in question also searched her pockets, as well as her bra.
"Nope, all I got is the keys to mine, you want to try 'em?" Neo tossed the keys toward Turnbull. Sparks shoved the small, medal key into the lock at her wrist and began trying to unlock the manacles.
"Here, you try." After a few, unsuccessful attempts she handed the keys to Turnbull. The junior Mountie stuck the key in his lock as well, but it didn't move.
"Oh dear." Turnbull muttered as he turned to Fraser for help. A few of the other guests began laughing at the lanky Mountie's predicament.
"Allow me." Fraser stepped forward.
"Alright guys, party's over, time to go on home." Ray began ushering the guys out of the apartment. "Except you, Dewey, you're stayin til Turnbull gets out of those things." The blond detective caught the other detective by the arm, turning him around to face him.
"Hey, what can I do about it, get a pair of bolt cutters or something." Dewey pulled away, throwing his arms up. Ray felt like kicking him in the head and in the ass for good measure.
"I don't have a pair, do you, Dewey?" Ray stood with his hands on his hips.
"Let me know if you need anything." Lt. Welsh said as he found his jacket and grabbed one, last piece of pizza on the way out the door.
"Yeah, thanks, Sir." Ray waved at his commanding officer as he turned his attention back to Dewey and the problem at hand.
Fraser tried the key Diana had tossed to Sparks but it wasn't the right one. The one needed for the manacles was an older key.
"I'm afraid these are locked until we can either cut them off or pick the lock." Fraser handed Sparks back the keys. Her two friends waited on the couch, flipping through Ray's basic cable channels.
"Greatness, where can we get a pair of bolt cutters, it's like, the middle of the night." Ray checked his watch, noting the late hour.
"Perhaps one of your neighbors has a pair they wouldn't mind lending you, Ray." Fraser offered, trying to think if there happened to be a pair at the consulate.
"Fraser, the only reason people have bolt cutters is for work or breakin an enterin." The off duty detective scoffed.
"Isn't one of your neighbors a plumber?" Fraser persisted, examining the fasteners.
"I gotta sit down, these shoes are killers." Sparks pulled both Mounties over to the poker table and plopped herself down in a chair, forcing Turnbull to pull one up beside her.
"Yeah, Jake's a plumber, but his wife threw him out three days ago, he's gone to Wisconsin to stay with his brother." This wasn't the bachelor party Ray had planned at all. He wouldn't have minded a few dancing girls but he knew Fraser didn't go in for that sort of thing. Instead he'd wanted to have a relaxing evening spending time with their friends.
"That is unfortunate." Fraser sat back in the kitchen chair he'd pulled up.
"All the hardware stores are closed at this hour." Turnbull shook his head, wishing he were standing sentry duty or alphabetizing Inspector Thatcher's Rolodex, anything but being shackled to a suggestively clad woman.
"Can't one of you pick the lock 'er somethin', don't that teach that at Mountie school?" Ray ran his fingers through his spiked hair.
"I could attempt to pick the lock, though it has been quite a while since I've had to do such a thing. As a raw recruit I once had to …." No one was listening, except Turnbull.
"Call the fire department, don't they do that sort of thing?" Dewey suggested, leaning on the counter drinking a bottle of beer.
"Oh dear, there's no need for such drastic measures, is there, Constable Fraser?" Turnbull's light eyes were wide and frightened. What would people think if they were to see him cuffed to a dancing girl?
"We'll save that as a last resort, Ray, if you wouldn't mind, would you fetch me your toolbox from the front closet?" Fraser turned to his unofficial partner. He knew he'd have to get the cuffs off before long, he had a wedding to attend in less than twelve hours.
"Yeah, sure." Ray dug in the bottom of his coat closet until he came up with the red, metal box.
"That's where that went to." He muttered, tossing a fishing reel out of the way. A moment later he set the toolbox on one of the kitchen chairs for the Mountie to work from.
Dawn ….
Diana and Neo had gone home around two in the morning, both of them had day jobs. Dewey begged off, saying he had to get some sleep and get ready for the wedding in a few hours. Finally, it was down to Ray, Fraser, Turnbull and Sparks trying to get the manacles unlocked. Sparks laid over on the table and managed to get some sleep, her long, brunette locks falling over her face, hiding the dim light of Ray's overhead kitchen light.
"I'm afraid it's necessary to call the fire department, Turnbull, I simply can't pick the lock." Fraser laid the tools he'd been working with back in the box, running his thumbnail over his left brow.
"Firemen?" Sparks roused out of her doze at the mention of stereotypically attractive men.
"I have to be at the airport at eight o'clock to pick up Minister Browner." Turnbull whines, wishing for the thousandth time he'd stayed at home.
"My boyfriend's gonna kill me, I was supposed to meet him after work last night." Sparks grumbled, trying to cross her arms, jerking Turnbull's arm across the table.
"Looks like you'll be attendin the weddin'." Ray quipped. He'd gathered up all the pizza plates, boxes, empty cups and bottles while he waited for Fraser to turn Turnbull loose.
"Oh dear, Inspector Thatcher will be sorely upset if I have to bring Miss Sparks with me today." Turnbull sat up straight in his chair.
"Thatcher's gonna shit kittens when she sees this." Ray thought to himself, hiding a smirk behind a cup of coffee.
"At least it wasn't me." Ben raised a relieved brow as he thought to himself.
"Maybe my boyfriend can get me out." Sparks sat up, "Hand me the phone will you?" She asked to no one in particular. Ray handed her the cordless, hoping it wasn't a long distance call.
"Hey Eddie, yeah, I'm fine, I just got caught up at work, can you bring a pair of bolt cutters to ..." she looked to Ray to provide his address.
"I'll call you on your cell if anything comes up." She hung the phone up and laid it on the table.
"I should be going, Margaret must be wondering where I am." Fraser stood, confident that Ray could handle the situation.
"What about Minister Browner?" Turnbull asked, yanking on the manacles.
"Don't worry, Dewey'll get him, he owes ya one." Ray assured the junior Mountie.
TYKTYKTYK