Fandom: Due South
Summary: Don’t dare. (Hey it’s short — easy to give away what little there is)
Fraser watched as Ray untied the strings on the square, white cardboard box.
“Ray, that isn’t yours.”
“I know. I just want to see what’s inside.” Moving aside the string and lifting the lid, the detective smiled and let loose a satisfied sigh as he stared at the contents. “Perfect.”
“Ray, what are you doing?”
“I’m just admiring this beautiful creation.”
“But it’s not yours.”
“So you said.”
“You should put it back.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Ray, you can’t take that.”
“Why not?”
“It would be stealing.”
“But I’d put it to good use.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I can replace it.”
“The intention of reparation does not excuse knowingly stealing another’s property.”
“I’ll make it up to whoever bought this. I’ll go out and buy one just as soon as I’m through.”
“Ray, you can’t eat that.”
“Who said anything about eating?”
The Mountie looked at the detective warily. His scrutiny held both appraisal and an element of mistrust.
“Ray, what are you planning to do with that pie?”
Ever since his ostensible friend had picked up the custard pie, Fraser had gotten the uneasy feeling that said friend had a motive other than gustatory.
“Pie?” Vecchio echoed innocently. He held up the potential weapon as if only just discovering that it sat in the palm of his hand. “Why, what does a person usually do with a custard pie, Benny?”
“That depends on the person’s intentions, his or her needs and/or motivations.”
“And what do you think my ‘needs,’ my ‘intentions,’ and my ‘motivations’ would be, Benny?”
“I’m not certain, but they are entirely suspect at the moment.”
“And why would they be that, my best friend in the world, Benton Fraser, RCMP?”
“I have no idea, Ray.” Fraser took a step backwards. “Unless you are blaming me for the damage to your new shoes and your suit.”
“Now why would I do that?” Ray advanced a step.
“It would be unreasonable.” Fraser retreated a step.
“That’s right.” Ray advanced.
“The wet cement was not my fault.” Fraser backed up again.
“Of course not.” Ray stepped forward.
“I couldn’t predict that the sidewalk around that corner had just been replaced.” He took another step back, only to find himself up against a desk.
“Who could?” Ray took a final step and raised the pie to shoulder height.
“Ray.” Fraser sidled along the desk away from Vecchio.
“Benny?” Ray pulled back the pie.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare what, Benny?”
“Don’t you dare throw…”
It all happened in a blur of motion. Lightning fast reflexes pitted against calculated cunning. Not quite totally blameless innocence, versus the all-consuming need for revenge.
Ray’s arm began the forward swing.
Fraser ducked.
Ray continued the motion, spinning his entire body around one full rotation before letting loose the pie.
Fraser’s reflexes were too fast for his own good. He had already popped back up into a full standing position before he realized his mistake.
He took the full brunt of the pie in his face.
His eyes had flinched shut in reaction just as they were smacked, but his mouth was open in shock and he practically inhaled the sweet gooey mess that filled it. Whipped cream and custard were in his hair, up his nose, dripping from his chin and slipping down his neck under his collar.
The aluminum plate slid from his face, glancing off his chest before hitting the floor with a tinny clang and a small explosion. The soft, wet shrapnel landed mostly on the Mountie’s perfectly polished boots.
Fraser coughed and spluttered, spraying gobs and flecks of pale goo from his mouth and nose.
Ray rocked back on his heels and smiled in great satisfaction. It was a rare time that he got the Mountie back for some of the abuse he’d taken since they’d teamed up.
Fraser was beginning to wipe away the gunk, starting with his eyes. After scraping away the worst from each lid, he took a large white handkerchief from a pocket and cleared the orbs enough to open them and peer at Ray with disbelief and blame.
That was all it took for the detective to launch into uncontrollable — and much needed — laughter. The sight of those innocent, grey-blues peeking from a face full of whipped cream and custard was just too precious. Oh, how he wished he had a camera handy to immortalize this moment.
“Ray, that was uncalled for.”
“No, Benny.” He managed to quiet his laughter. “It was very called for. I called for it. My spirit called for it. And you called for it. You should know by now — never tell a Vecchio, ‘don’t you dare,’ because we do.”
The door to Lt. Welsh’s office opened and the lieutenant stepped out. Ray didn’t really notice until he heard the voice behind him.
“Vecchio! That better not be my custard pie all over Big Red.”
Ray turned to face the music. It would be Welsh’s custard pie.
“What the hell happened to you?” The lieutenant’s shock at Ray’s appearance overran his indignation.
Ray had almost forgotten his sorry state. “Cement, Lieu. Long story. Fraser’s fault. I had to hit him with the pie. I’ll buy you one. I swear, sir. I had to use it or things might have gotten ugly.”
“Things look pretty ugly from here, Detective.”
“I know, Sir.”
“Constable, you okay?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Didn’t duck fast enough this time?”
“Ducked too soon, Sir.”
“Oh. How’s the pie?”
“Excellent, Leftenant. Despite the circumstances I’d say, quite delectable.”
“Strasser’s is a good bakery. And they close in fifteen minutes, Detective.”
“I’m on my way, Lieu.”
Ray grabbed his cap and started for the door, passing Fraser without looking at him. He didn’t stop as he called over his shoulder, “You coming, Benny?”
Fraser turned in Ray’s direction. “Is that a dare, Ray?”
“Sure is.”
Fraser scooped up his Stetson. “Yes, Ray.”
The two law officers headed out of the quiet station acquiring the stares of the second watch who were just entering the bullpen. A few continued staring after they had gone.
“What the hell do you suppose those two have gotten into now?”
“I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Was that cement?”
“Custard pie?”
The End
