RATED PG
Inspector Margaret Thatcher closed the file in front of her and put it on top of the too-big pile on her desk. She sighed tiredly and looked at her watch. She sighed again in disgust. How could it only be 2:00?
The week had been full of entirely too much paperwork - even for the Consulate. Payroll reports, personnel reports, inventory reports... which reminded her: she needed to get the inventory reports from Constable Fraser.
She had foisted them off on to him because she hated them. They were time-consuming, boring, and in general an all-around pain in the butt. But Fraser had not minded. Not in the slightest. She had expected at least a token protest, but he had just taken the forms from her.
"I'd be happy to do the inventory, Sir," he had said with a smile. Of course, Fraser seemed to be smiling a lot lately. In fact, at times his smile was dangerously close to being a silly grin. He was also spending an inordinate amount of time humming. In fact, Fraser had been in a disgustingly good mood for about the past 4 weeks. He seemed almost like a man in love.
Thatcher drew up short at the thought. Could he be? Naaah!! But then again, the songs he kept humming were for the most part dopey, sappy love songs. Except for one memorable occasion when she had caught him humming the American National Anthem. She didn't even want to think about what that meant.
And Fraser had refused to work late the last time she had asked. Well, not refused. That was just not in his nature. He had politely declined.
"I'm terribly sorry, Sir," he had said, "but I'm afraid I won't be able to stay after hours this evening."
"Oh? Do you have plans?"
"Yes Sir."
"Can't they be changed?"
"No, Sir, I wouldn't want to do that."
"Are they personal plans?"
"Yes, Sir," he had replied, starting to blush.
"Very well, Constable, I understand."
"Thank you kindly, Sir," he'd said, that incredibly dopey smile spreading over his face again.
"Dismissed!" she had snapped, feeling unreasonably irritated. Later they had been working together in the file room. He had been humming "That's Amore" over and over again. She was still amazed that she had managed to get through the rest of the day without slapping him.
So, Benton Fraser was in love! Well, he was certainly entitled. And, she told herself, she was not jealous. It was not as if their... attraction could ever had led anywhere. One kiss on top of a speeding train filled with unconscious Mounties and a thermonuclear device did not a romance make.
And, to be fair, she was the one who had insisted that it would never happen again; and ordered him to forget about it. She just had not expected him to comply with her orders so quickly. Or thoroughly. Meg wondered who the woman was. And if she knew her.
Mentally shaking herself, she left her office and headed for Fraser's. She needed those damn inventory reports so she could get them to Ottawa. She paused outside his office door when she heard Fraser's phone ring.
"Constable Fraser."
"Hi!" His voice suddenly filled with delight in just that one word. That had to be her on the other end of the line.
Inspector Thatcher stood at Fraser's office door, out of his sight, shamelessly eavesdropping on Fraser's end of the conversation.
"Oh, nothing special. Just finishing up the inventory reports."
"They are incredibly boring. My mind keeps wandering. But considering where it wanders too, I don't really mind."
"Well, yes, I have been thinking some about what happened last night. Although technically I believe it was early this morning."
"I still fail to see why you got angry with me."
"You are the one who left the door open."
"Well, yes, I am the one who removed all your clothing, but I don't recall hearing any complaints at the time."
A long-suffering sigh from Fraser. "Well, I'm sure you did think you'd be safe at 3:00 in the morning; but Mr. Mustafi is a very light sleeper."
"No, I am not laughing." But even Thatcher could hear Fraser's struggle to keep his voice under control.
"Oh, come on, the hallway was very dark, I'm sure Mr. Mustafi could not see that much."
"What do you mean, I should have warned you?"
Another sigh came out of the office. "Fine. Consider this a blanket warning for the future: Next time you foolishly leave my apartment door ajar so that Diefenbaker pries it open and gets into the hallway forcing you to jump stark naked out of bed to chase him, please consider putting on a bathrobe before actually running into the hallway."
A short pause, and then Fraser did burst into laughter. "Well, the view from my perspective was quite lovely."
"I am saying that I like looking at your ass."
"So you're no longer mad at me?"
"Well, that's good. Would you like to come over again tonight? I'll make you dinner."
"Great! What would you like?"
Another laugh, this one deep and sexy. In the hallway, Thatcher caught her breath.
"Actually, I think that would count as dessert."
"Well, to be honest, I already had dessert planned."
"I'm not at liberty to go into the details, but I can tell you that it does involve whipped cream."
"Oh, really? What did you have planned?"
There was a rather lengthy pause, followed by a quiet thump that sounded suspiciously like a telephone receiver being dropped on a desk.
There was another, shorter, pause. "Yes, I'm still here."
"No, no! Your idea sounds... ummm.... good also."
"Well, perhaps we could combine our resources. We are, after all, two grown, intelligent adults."
"Well, um, yes." Fraser cleared his throat. "That certainly does bear consideration." Thatcher could almost feel him blushing.
"I really, really, think that I should get back to work now."
"Yes. Okay. Will you be picking me up?"
"Wonderful! 6:00?"
"Yes, I'll see you then."
"I love you, too." Fraser hung up the phone.
Meg quietly backed away and returned to her office. She and Fraser would both be horribly embarrassed if he knew that she had heard any part of that conversation.
She managed to avoid Fraser for most of the rest of the day; but at 5:00 she had to go into his office to get the inventory reports so she could fax them to Ottawa. They then spent the remainder of the day in her office, trying to organize the myriad of files.
At about 10 minutes to six, Fraser started glancing out the window with irritating frequency. Finally he glanced out, did a quick double-take, and his entire face lit up.
"Um, Sir?"
"Is your ride here, Constable?" she asked mildly.
"Yes, Sir, it is."
"Dismissed."
"Thank you." He practically bolted from her office.
Unable to control her curiosity any longer, she went over to the window and looked out.
"That doesn't make any sense," she thought to herself, "the only car I see is..." She broke off abruptly, thunderstruck.
"Oh - My - God!!!"
Fraser exited the building, and even from her vantage point at the window, she could see his smile get bigger as he caught sight of the driver.
Fraser opened the car door and stepped back a little to let Diefenbaker enter first; then hopped in himself.
Thatcher was left standing at the window in stunned disbelief as the green Riviera pulled away from the curb and drove down the street.
THE END
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