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Stakeouts were the worst. Wait. Make that stakeouts in the rain were the worst, even if you were in a car and not out in it getting drenched. Like a regular night-time stakeout wasn't bad enough – the added fun of trying to see through rain running down the windshield made it even more not fun. Ray hunched down further into the driver's seat, hands wrapped around his thermos for warmth. Okay, one more amendment: stakeouts in the rain and cold were the absolute limit of badness.
“I'm sorry, I missed that, Ray. Your grumbling was nearly inaudible.”
And now Mountie snark was getting added into the mix. Actually, that wasn't such a bad thing. It could be a decent distraction from the general suck of the night. Ray decided to go with it, maybe even lean into it.
“Just hating this stakeout, Fraser, I mean, what's the point?” He gestured toward the windshield, the building across the street nearly invisible beyond the increasing downpour. “It’s raining hard enough we'd have trouble seeing anything even if we had the wipers going, which of course we can't. Or the heat. Or anything that might make this bearable.”
“The rain does help make an effective cover.”
“That's what you said about this shitty car, too,” Ray pointed out, glaring at the grimy dashboard.
“Ray. You did admit that your car can be too conspicuous for an assignment like this.”
“Doesn't mean I have to like this piece of crap. It's ugly and cramped.”
“I hadn't realized that GTOs were renowned for their roominess.”
Ooh, good, a way to keep things interesting. An answer like that meant Fraser was there to play too. And that he was just as over this as Ray was, only too stubborn to admit it. No problem – Ray could admit it enough for both of them.
“Pft.” He blew off Fraser's statement. “Wouldn't matter anyhow. Even a car as great as mine wouldn't save us tonight.” He leaned forward, head against the windshield, trying to see out. “It's gonna be a complete bust.”
“Perhaps you need your glasses.”
Ray shot him a look of disbelief. “Are you saying you have no trouble seeing through this?”
Fraser looked out, but didn't answer. Which of course he wouldn't, because that would mean saying Ray was right.
“If you find the rain so troubling,” Fraser said instead, “I suppose you should be glad it isn't snow.”
“Wait, there's something you don't like about snow? Let me get my notebook – I need to write this down. What day is it?”
He could almost feel Fraser struggling to not roll his eyes. “Really, Ray. There's no need for that level of sarcasm. And I didn't say that I disliked it – I said that you would.”
“Unless it's a blizzard, nope, I gotta disagree. Lots easier to see a perp in the snow than in this mess.”
“Yes, but that goes both ways.”
True, but Fraser wasn't the only one unwilling to admit things sometimes. “Unless you're you, right?”
“Unless you're properly trained and prepared, which I am,” Fraser responded. “It doesn't change my point.”
“Which is that all stakeouts pretty much suck.”
“I don't believe that's what I was saying.” Ray just waited. “They do tend to be in... sub-optimal conditions, yes,” he conceded.
Ray grinned and clapped Fraser on the shoulder. “Glad we're on the same page.” He thought about it, debated himself for a second, then decided to go ahead and ask. “Okay, hit me with it.”
Fraser shot him a confused glance. “With what, Ray?”
“A stakeout story. Best, worst, craziest – dealer's choice. Except nothing you and Vecchio did. I had to read all those before taking on this gig. And before you say it, yes I'm sure he left a bunch out but still. I want a Mountie stakeout – snow, ice, deep in the woods, the works.”
“A Mountie stakeout?" Fraser definitely sounded amused. "I suppose I do have a few stories that would fit the criteria to be considered strictly Canadian.” He hummed thoughtfully. “All right. This was very early in my career, mind you, and involved the theft of maple sap.”
“Sap? Not syrup?” Ray grinned, settling back in the driver's seat. “You're right, that sounds exactly like what I want to hear. Go on, tell me all about why anyone would want to steal sap.”
“You may not realize it, Ray, but the maple syrup industry is a fairly lucrative one, though quite labor intensive. Did you know that it takes nearly forty gallons of sap to produce one gallon of syrup?”
“I did not,” Ray replied, playing along.
“Neither did our inspector, who to be fair was new to a more rural detachment, and somewhat reluctant to acclimate.”
“Ooh, so he got sent there as a punishment!”
“Really, Ray,” Fraser admonished. “Aklavik was a fine posting. I will admit, however, that it wasn't for everyone.”
“Okay, okay, didn't mean to insult Canada. Go on.”
“As I was saying, because of the amount of work involved, anyone who did harvest and process the sap would stand to make a good amount of profit. I'm afraid, however, that when the Magawley brothers came in to report the theft, my inspector reacted much as you did.”
“Hey! Now who's being insulting?” Fraser just looked at him, until Ray had to concede. “Okay, I get it. So these guys come in and basically get blown off.”
“That is the basic gist, yes. Of course, it didn't help that they frequently reported alleged crimes against them that turned out to be unsubstantiated, or dubious, or in a few cases, weren't crimes at all.”
“So they cried wolf and it bit them on the ass. Only you knew better,” Ray said, pointing at Fraser.
“I wouldn't go so far as that. I would say that in this case more of the story rang true than not. The weather had promised a good harvest, so their claims of trees being nearly drained seemed noteworthy.”
“Wait, wait,” Ray laughed, holding up his hand. “If I'm hearing you right, they weren't even reporting somebody stole sap they already had? They were pissed about sap that was supposed to be in a tree but wasn't?” Fraser nodded, and Ray laughed again. “This just keeps getting better and better.”
“Are you finished?” Fraser asked. Ray got himself back under control, waving at Fraser to continue. “As I was saying, a tree here and there being hard to tap was to be expected, but this sounded more widescale. And the Magawleys relied on that income. But without any proof, or even suspects, the inspector deemed it unworthy of our time.”
“But you didn't agree,” Ray guessed.
“I saw things differently, and petitioned the inspector for a chance to prove the claims were true.”
“And got shot down.”
“I was told it would be a waste of RCMP time and resources.”
“So you went anyway,” Ray guessed.
“On my own time, yes. I hadn't been expressly forbidden not to, and the time was mine to do with as I pleased.”
“Wait, let me guess," Ray interrupted. “You used your super Mountie senses to find them by licking all the trees to see which ones still had sap.”
“Really, Ray,” Fraser harrumphed, but the hint of a laugh was in his voice, so Ray counted it as a win. “I knew the lay of the land and could narrow down the most likely place the thieves would strike next.” He paused a moment before adding, “No licking was necessary.”
Ray didn't bother hiding his laugh. “And I have no doubt you got your man.”
“I did, though it took a little longer than anticipated. Fortunately, it wasn't a large operation, and they weren't expecting anyone to find them. Transporting 40-gallon barrels through a snowy forest tends to leave a mark, even if you're trying to hide your tracks, which they were very bad at doing. I just had to trace the trails back to their encampment. If the Magawley brothers had decent woodcraft skills other than those related to syrup, they could have found the culprits themselves.”
“Yeah, but then you wouldn't have this story.”
“True. And honestly, I'm glad they didn't or else we would have had to have brought all of them in on much more violent charges. So it all turned out for the best.”
“So you didn't get in trouble? I mean, how'd you bringing them in go over with your inspector?”
“The Magawleys were so grateful to have their sap returned that they gifted our detachment with an assortment of their products. Fortunately, the inspector had a marked fondness for maple candy, which was part of what we received.”
“Only you, Benton Fraser,” Ray chuckled, shaking his head.
“I don't know what you mean. In any case, I believe it's your turn.”
“For what?”
Fraser gave him a look that said he knew exactly what Ray was trying to do and it wasn't going to work. “It's only fair that we exchange stories, don't you think?”
“Believe it or not, all my best stories involve you, even if they are pretty crazy,” Ray replied fondly. Probably too fondly– could Fraser hear it? Stupid question. This was a guy who could lick a shoe and know where it's been for the last week – of course he would hear it.
This, this was the real reason Ray really hated stakeouts like this. Because here, in the dark and quiet and privacy of a car, it was a hell of a lot harder to keep some truths locked away. Light of day? That was pretty easy – lots of distractions, and re-directions. Harsh light of day kept secrets in the shadows. But here, now, when sleep-deprivation made it easier to shake things loose? In the wee hours when everyone in their right mind was at home, in bed? That's where Ray wanted to be too. It was just the part where he didn't want to be there alone that was hard not to say. Mostly because if he said that, he might keep going, say just who it was he'd want next to him.
Then again, it wasn't like they hadn't been dancing around it. Or at least, Ray had been. Dangerous, maybe, stupid, definitely, since he wasn't even Ray Kowalski right now. If it had just been a zing of attraction, he'd have ignored it. But there was something else, something more, that Ray hadn't felt in a long time. So bad idea or not, he pushed, here and there, tested the waters. Usually on purpose, unlike just now. But when Ray risked a quick glance, even in the dim light he could see Fraser's small, pleased smile, and if it wasn't so dark he was betting he'd see a little pink in his cheeks. Which was only fair, as Ray was sure his were bright red with how hot his face felt.
Still, they were on duty, so instead of saying anything more, he focused on the view beyond the windshield, not that there was anything to see. And for whatever reason, which Ray wasn't going to question, just appreciate, Fraser didn't push, letting the quiet settle over them until Ray realized something.
“Hey, wait a minute. Your story didn't involve a stakeout. Unless I missed something there in all the tracking and sap and stuff.”
“Well,” Fraser rubbed the back of his neck, “I suppose that's true. But I didn't really do anything like a traditional stakeout until I got here. And as you ruled out anything to do with Ray, and you've been there for the rest of them, I had to look a little less literally at the idea.”
“No stakeout at all is about as un-literal as it gets,” Ray teased. “Night like this, I bet you're sorry you ever heard of them.”
“Quite the opposite. While there are times they might seem a waste of time, I still find them interesting.”
“Yeah?”
Fraser smiled, warm enough that Ray could almost feel it. “Yeah.”
Ray returned the smile before ducking his head. “Okay.”
“I think you're right about tonight,” Fraser said a few minutes later. “I don't think we'll make any headway on the case.”
“Course I'm right,” Ray replied. He glanced at his watch. “In fact, I'm calling it. We've been out here for hours with no sign of anyone.” He radioed the station, and was pleasantly surprised to be told they were indeed done for the night.
“Okay then, that's more like it,” he said, clapping his hands together. “We are d-o-n-e doneski and I am ready to get out of here. Rainy nights are meant to be spent at home. Listening to the pitter patter of it on the roof. Blanket around you, coffee in hand, or maybe cocoa, feeling like the lucky bastard you are for not having to be out in it.”
“You know, we have most of that here,” Fraser said, shifting in his seat to face Ray and gesturing to indicate the inside of the car. “We can hear the rain, and there's a thermos of coffee.”
“Guess that's true enough. No blanket though,” he said, putting the key into the ignition.
“No. But there are other ways to stay warm.”
Ray blinked. Fraser wasn't saying – no. Ray was just reading into it. Except, when he went to turn the key, Fraser put his hand over Ray's to stop him. Ray turned toward Fraser, who was much closer than Ray had thought. In fact, he was so close that all Ray had to do was shift a little to meet Fraser halfway.
Maybe, Ray thought as he leaned in to Fraser's kiss, not all the lucky bastards were at home after all.