in the bag

"Ray, I really don't think you should be drinking, considering the blow to the head you took earlier."

"Fraser, I'm trapped in a rental cabin, in the middle of a blizzard, dressed like a gay prostitute. If I don't get drunk enough to forget this ever happened, I will have to kill you." Ray punctuated this statement by tipping the bottle of moonshine to his lips and taking a long swallow. After he stopped coughing, he added, "This kind of thing only happens when I'm around you."

"I think that is highly unfair, Ray."

Ray pointed at him with his index and little finger. "Whose idea was it? Huh? Whose idea? That's right, it was yours, Fraser. You were the one who had to open his big mouth and volunteer us to work undercover at the Pink Petunia Saloon to catch a bunch of fruitcakes who want everyone to turn gay. You were the one who showed up in drag! You were the one who decided to do a tonsillectomy on the skinny blond slut—!"

"Ray, Ray, Ray, RAY! I've said I was sorry."

Ray gulped down more moonshine.

"After all, Ray, playing Truth or Dare was your idea, if I remember correctly."

"No, Fraser, I wanted to play 'I Never'."

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. "Oh." Ray took pity and handed him the jug of moonshine.

"Here, have a slug, it'll warm you up."

"Ray, alcohol is a depressent. It actually slows your metabolism, leading to a lowering of your temperature. And we have no fire wood for the stove and only one sleeping bag," Fraser said. "We'll have to share body heat tonight." Fraser's eyes got a little wide at that thought and he quickly gurgled down some of the moonshine.

"Share body heat," Ray repeated slowly.

"Yes, Ray," Fraser said. "It's best to strip, as skin to skin contact is the most effacious method of ... sharing body heat."

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MINI MOUNTIE MIND!?" Ray shouted. He grabbed the jug back.

"Really, Ray, there's no need to raise your voice. Diefenbaker is the one with an auditory handicap."

Ray glared at him and mumbled, "I'm not drunk enough for this."

He gulped down several more swallows of moonshine, then began stripping as fast as he could. The cabin was cold, and steadily getting darker. They'd been kidnapped at crossbow point by members of UpFront! (the United Population Reduction Front); who had knocked Ray over the head, driven them into the country, then pushed Fraser and Ray inside the tiny cabin and exhorted them to "Make Love, Not More!' while they returned to rob the Pink Petunia Saloon to pay for their annual Lube and Condom Giveaway. The disgusted detective and the Mountie had then discovered the hidden cache of Prohibition era moonshine while looking for a way out through the basement. Then the freak sudden summer blizzard had hit Illinois, trapping them.

Fraser averted his eyes from Ray's pleasantly lanky, steadily more naked, almost golden form. Instead of looking, he picked up the moonshine jug and poured the rest of the contents down his throat, then swayed and giggled.

Ray dove inside the sleeping bag and regarded Fraser balefully.

"Are you drunk, Fraser?"

"Why, Ray, I believe that I may indeed be becoming somewhat tipsy," Fraser admitted.

"Huh," Ray grunted. He eyed Fraser, who was still attired in a rather fetching blue frock Turnbull had provided for the assignment, and noticed he wasn't just swaying, he was shivering. "Well, get your tipsy Canadian ass over here and get in the bag with me. And bring that other jug of moonshine with you."

"Right you are, Ray, right you are," Fraser slurred nonsensically. He scooped up the second bottle and staggered over to the sleeping bag and Ray. Then he sat down beside Ray and drank some more, humming 'Oh, Canada' between sips.

"Ray, my friend," Fraser said after a while.

Ray retrieved the jug and imbibed. "Yeah, Frase?"

"I believe I am paralyzed with drink."

Ray set the jug down. "So?"

"I need you to help to me get in the bag."

"Frase, if you're paralyzed, you are in the bag."

"I meant I need you to help me to get out of this dress."

Ray blinked owlishly at him.

"Oh. Okay." Ray crawled closer and began stripping Fraser. "Yeesh, I'm glad you ain't in the serge."

Later, Fraser said, "You know, Ray, alcohol is supposed to suppress the libido."

"Zat so? Don't look like it to me."

"Though, of course, statistically speaking, there will always be those individuals whose bodies process it in an anomalous fashion, resulting in a—ah, Ray, don't stop—a different—Dear God—-result. —Ray, Ray, Ray! RAY!"

Ray didn't answer because it isn't polite to talk with your mouth full.

The next morning Fraser didn't even have a hangover. He felt astoundingly good, waking up in a tangle of warm, naked limbs with Ray. He wasn't exactly sure what they'd done, but it certainly seemed likely they had become true partners during the night. Of course, he couldn't actually remember anything ...

He shook Ray's shoulder. "Ray?"

Ray swatted at his hand. "Nnng. G'wy."

"Ray. Ray."

"Don' wanna go to school!"

"Ray, Ray, Ray!"

Ray blinked open dazed blue eyes and then glared. "What? What?"

"Ray, did we—that is it appears that we—do you know if we slept together last night?" Fraser asked rather desperately.

Ray wriggled against him experimentally. Fraser gasped. Ray grinned. "Think we did more than just sleep together, buddy," he rasped out.

"Oh, dear," Fraser commented in a small voice. "I'd never, that is, with a—"

"With a guy?" Ray supplied. "Guess you were too drunk to remember you were straight last night." "

"There's no need to be crude, Ray," Fraser said.

Ray wrinkled his forehead into a frown and then asked, "Who's Ray?"


The End