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Pacta Sunt Servanda

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The war was brief, but fiercely fought. Neither side had undue advantage of weaponry, but Canada was totally unhinged, so ultimately emerged victorious.

Or it could be that America was pretty happy to lose.


It started with the remote control, no big surprise. Ray was for watching the WWE SmackDown. Fraser was set on a documentary about puffins, but then wavered when he discovered a curling match (Whitehorse CC vs. Team Alaska) on the Wimpy-and-Obscure Sports Channel (WOSC). Ray reminded Fraser it was his apartment, his TV, and his cable bill, at which point he made the mistake of getting up to grab a beer, and Fraser countered with a sneaky, underhanded Mountie trick. (He hid the remote.)

In any civilized nation those kinds of covert measures were prohibited by international law; Ray was almost sure of it.

"That's low, Fraser. Real low."

But Fraser looked so damned happy—edge of his seat, blue eyes glowing with the joys of viewing frenetic ice cleaning, so Ray sighed and made him a big pot of his freaky tea. Actually, it was a special box of Darjeeling that Frannie was going to give to Fraser, but Ray had said, "I'll make sure he gets it," and grabbed it right out of her hand.

He felt kind of mean about it, but damn it, she should just give up already. So should Ray, and he had, really—he never thought about it anymore, except all the time, but only in this wistful, non-mooning kind of way because he wasn't twelve, all right? He was allowed to look at least, and Fraser never seemed to notice Ray just looking.

"Oh! Did you see that? He forced the extra end!"

Fucking curling. For such a clean sport it sure sounded dirty.

Ray gave up on having any of Fraser's attention until the game was over, so he brought him the pot of tea and then went off to take a nice, long shower.

It was when he got out that things got seriously weird.

His bedroom door was locked, for starters. The TV was off, so he could hear Dief scratching at the door and whining a little.

"Yes, I realize the kitchen is out there, Diefenbaker, but I've procured us both some bare-bones rations. We should be able to hold out for a fair siege." Fraser's voice was muffled.

"Fraser?" Ray tapped at the door. "Fraser, what the fuck—?"

"Ray, is that you?"

Sheesh. "Uh, yeah, Fraser. This is me, in my apartment, outside my freakin' bedroom."

"I regret to inform you this is no longer your apartment, Ray."

"I'm pretty sure it is, Fraser." Ray scratched his ass through the towel. "Is this some kind of game or something?" Please let it be a kinky Mountie game.

"I'm afraid this is no game, Ray. You see, while you were in the shower, Canada declared war on the United States."


"Or perhaps the U.S. started it. I'm unclear. But I was forced to annex your flat. You are now standing on Canadian soil."

Okay, it was official—Fraser had lost his tiny Canadian mind. Well, not so tiny, really, and maybe that was part of Fraser's problem. Too much thinking all the time and eventually one of those gears was bound to spin loose.

"Okay, Fraser, whatever you say. Would you mind exporting some of my clothes, though? I'm in a towel out here."

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry, Ray." There were some muffled sounds and then a dull thump and a click, and then a skittering. "All right. You may retrieve your clothing. But please keep your hands where I can see them."

Ray rubbed his forehead and then turned the knob.

The first thing he noticed was Fraser had built a pillow fort on his bed. He was hunkered behind it with one hand on Dief's collar.

"Fraser." Ray shook his head. He started to lower his hands and heard a click that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"Fraser, is that my freakin' gun?"

Fraser gave an embarrassed cough. "Yes, Ray. I'm sorry, but I needed to commandeer your weapon."

Okay. This had gone from loony right past freaky into downright scary. Ray raised his hands again.

"Fraser, I don't know where you got this crazy idea—"

"It was quite clear. I was watching TV, drinking the tea you so thoughtfully provided, and then the announcer said it, plain as day. 'Canada is at war!'"

The tea. Francesca's tea. "Uh. Fraser—"

"And, insomuch as I am an officer of the RCMP, and loyal to the Crown, regardless my emotional involvement with you—indeed, my deeply passionate caring for your person—I felt I had to do my duty to Queen and country." Fraser's expression was pitifully sad.

"Fraser, you realize you are completely unhin—wait a minute. Passionate?" Ray suddenly found he could ignore the gun, which wasn't pointed at him, really, more at the dresser.

Fraser's face was red. "Well, to be sure my passion is purely unrealized, more on the level of hypothetical yearning, but it is real nonetheless, in spite of your being an American, and thus the enemy."

Ray felt a grin starting down low in his belly and bubbling up through his chest.

"What are you up to, Ray?" Fraser immediately turned suspicious. "Are you plotting something? A coup, perhaps?" His voice went hard. "I assure you, my inappropriate tendresse will not prevent me from defending my post."

Fraser started plumping the pillows.

"No, no." Ray raised his hands higher, but couldn't stop grinning. "Look, Fraser, I'm a peace-lover, you know that, right? A real flower child. I think...yeah, in this case I'm going to have to be a conscientious objector."


"No, really! See? No weapons." Ray turned slowly, spreading his legs so his towel loosened. He heard a gasp behind him.

Ray smiled and shimmied a little, and just like that his towel slipped right off. He completed the turn.

"Oh, God. Ray." Fraser's gun hand drooped before firming again. "Nefarious American trickery," he muttered.

"Nope, just good, old fashioned lust, over here. You think I can fake this?" Ray waved his hand toward his crotch. "Mata Hari I ain't."

Fraser's eyes dropped and then widened. And widened.

Dief made a snickering whine. Fraser jerked upright and frowned.

"I'm a lover, not a fighter, Fraser," Ray said softly.

"You, ah—" Fraser's voice sounded creaky. "Are you tendering your surrender, Ray?"

"Oh, yeah." Ray's stomach curled with heat, and he reached down to scratch it. Fraser's eyes widened again.

"I—uh, I accept." Fraser put down the gun and rubbed at his forehead. "I'm really very glad. I confess I feel strange, Ray. Quite odd."

Ray moved forward carefully. "I think it was the tea, Fraser."

"I'm suddenly very tired." Fraser tilted his head. "I was afraid, of course, to reveal my weakness before, but you are no longer on the side of wrong." His voice went up a little at the end.

"Nope. We're allies. You want I should defend the fort for a little?"

"That would be...most appreciated." Fraser pushed himself to his feet, and then his eyes rolled back and he suddenly toppled down onto the pillows without a sound.

Ray tugged him straight and pulled a blanket over him. Fraser still looked a little flushed, but he was breathing deeply and evenly. Dead to the world.

Damn it.

Ray went to go call Francesca.


The SmackDown was in final seconds when Ray heard a moan from the other room. He found Fraser tugging listlessly at the blanket, which was tangled around his legs. His eyes were winced shut.

Ray pulled the blanket free. "You doing okay, buddy?"

The wince turned into a downright scrunch. "Ray? Oh, God." Fraser turned over and buried his head in the pillow, then mumbled something about aspirin.

Ray couldn't stop grinning as he fetched a couple of aspirin and a glass of water. Fraser had sounded beyond embarrassed. Ha.

"Here ya go. Miracle cure, right here."

"Thank you, Ray." Fraser somehow managed to take the aspirin and swallow some water without ever fully pulling his head from under the pillow.

Ray sat on the side of the bed. "You know, you're gonna have to look at me sometime, pal."

Fraser rolled over. His shoulder ended up against Ray's leg and he squirmed away a little. He had his arm covering his face.

"Come on, it ain't that bad. We're not at war anymore, at least."

"No. I suppose we should be grateful for small favors."

"I found out what happened; you want to hear it?"

"Yes, Ray," Fraser said meekly.

"Frannie dosed you with ginkgo biloba. She'd heard it was an aphrodisiac or something. Nutty girl."

"Oh, dear. I have a terrible sensitivity to the herb."

"Yeah, so I figured. How many cups did you drink, anyway?"

Fraser sighed. "At least three. It was a very stimulating match," he mumbled.


No response.

"I'm not the enemy, Fraser."

Fraser dropped his arm. "No, of course not." His face was calm, but his eyes looked awful. "I'm really terribly sorry, Ray."

"What for?" Ray smiled. "It was kind of nice being Canadian for a while. And I didn't even have to buy a big hat."

That got him a small smile.

"Or lick anything—"

Fraser winced again.

"—of course, that part's a little disappointing, but I'm sure you'll make it up to me now that you're awake again."

Fraser's mouth dropped open, which made it kind of hard to get a seal when Ray leaned down to kiss him. Still, Ray was a persistent guy. And after a frozen moment, Fraser helped out by grabbing him and tilting his head.

And then it was perfect, really perfect. Ray wasn't sure if it was Fraser's natural taste or the ginkgo biloba, but whatever—he tasted great. And Jesus Christ, Fraser's tongue was pushy, that was one pushy tongue right there, so silky strong in Ray's mouth...

Next thing he knew, Ray was plastered on top of Fraser and humping him through his jeans.

"Ray...Ray!" Fraser held him off. "Would you mind if we—I'd like to—I wish you hadn't gotten dressed," he said, kind of breathlessly.

"Oh, yeah?" Ray rolled off the bed and pulled off his sweatshirt. "You liked my towel dance?"

"Uhm." Fraser was staring again. But he was unbuttoning his jeans at the same time, so that was cool.

Ray finished stripping and looked over to see Fraser squirming out of his shirt. Not a bad thing to see. "Jesus, Fraser. That's some—you got a nice look on ya."

And, wow, that blush really did travel fast, didn't it?

Ray didn't waste any time investigating close up, and Fraser was hot and still wriggling, so bonus points, there. Got him. Oh, man, I finally got him. Ray put his mouth down where it could do the most good, tongued Fraser right in, crazy foreskin and all, and settled down to suck him insane.

Fraser made a weird sound, like maybe a dying moose or something, and then he pulled at Ray's legs until he was right there, Fraser's mouth right on him, and Ray rolled his eyes over but all he could see was Fraser's shiny hair as his head moved up, down, around—

Ray tried to moan but he had a mouth full of cock. Still, Fraser didn't seem to mind. He moaned right back at him and then there they were, moaning at each other in syncopation like some nutty exchange. Like escalating tensions. Like nuclear fucking detente.

And suddenly the heat and the sloppy wet and the sucking—oh, God, the sucking—were way too much for Ray's broken brain, and he surrendered, just gave it all up right into Fraser's throat.

Fraser made a happy hum and swallowed it all.

And that pissed Ray right off, because he'd obviously been forced into first strike, so he one-upped by getting his finger wet and teasing it right down between Fraser's legs, rubbing around and around and then in.

Fraser jerked like he'd been shot and came over and over into his mouth. Ray backed off and still Fraser's cock was twitching out little bubbles of come.

Damned fine.

"God, Ray."

"Mmm hmm." Feeling like about a million bucks, Ray swung around and used Fraser as a ladder to climb back up to his tasty mouth.

More kisses. Nice, warm, lazy kisses with Fraser. Ray would never have believed—he really owed Frannie big-time. Heh.

Ray broke away and nudged his forehead against Fraser's. "How's your headache?"

"Oh." Fraser looked surprised, then smiled. "Funny, it doesn't seem to be troubling me all that much."

Ray grinned. "I'm glad you didn't forget."

"Mmm?" Fraser's hand was on his chest and moving toward his right nipple.

"Ohgod. Uh, our treaty, Fraser. I was scared you'd have forgotten it when you woke up re-hinged."

"Oh, no, Ray. Pacta sunt servanda, as they say."

"Says who, what?"

Fraser smiled. "It's Latin. 'Pacts must be respected.' And after all you did surrender."

"Oh." Ray felt himself go a little red. "That."

"Yes, indeed." Fraser's smile turned completely wicked. "I do hope it was unconditional."

Ray's cock gave a happy twitch. Fraser's eyes dipped, and he reached down to take him into his warm hand.

"For Queen and country," Ray groaned.

War sure was hell.