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Title: Hot out here, cool me down
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Fraser/Vecchio
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,968
Summary: It's the middle of a heatwave, and Fraser thinks Ray would be more comfortable with an iced coffee.
Notes: Written for greensilver in the fraser_vecchio ficathon. Beta'd by china_shop, who fixed Vecchio and told me about the beneficial effects of hot tea.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and I'm not making any money off this.

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"I can't believe this place put tables on the sidewalk in August. What, are they trying to pretend we're in Paris? Because let me tell you something, Fraser, I've never been to Paris but I'm guessing the tables in the sidewalk cafés aren't hot enough to fry a five-egg omelet on!" Ray tried to wave his arms, but couldn't get up the energy. He sank back gingerly in his burning hot chair. "The tables probably don't have Hebrew National hot-dog-stand umbrellas on them, either."

"Would you prefer to sit inside?"

"We can't sit inside, Fraser! Inside is more backed up than Clark Street on game nights, because outside is hell on earth! And how did you end up with the shady chair?"

Even in the shade, Fraser was starting to shimmer and melt around the edges, his face flushed and beads of sweat at his hairline. But maybe the heat coming off the pavement was playing tricks on Ray's vision, because Fraser still managed to sound cool and reasonable when he said, "Would you like to switch with me? I've been practicing a new method of internally regulating my body temperature, so I'm sure I would be fine."

And now it was Ray's heart that was melting around the edges, dripping into his chest cavity and sizzling gently. Because if he said yes, Fraser would, even though Ray was wearing a short-sleeved button-down and cotton slacks and he was in full uniform. "Nah, Benny, it's okay. Jesus, you look like you're about to die of heatstroke. Do me a favor and take your jacket off."

"But Ray--"

"No buts, Fraser. What if you had to chase down a car? You'd keel over."

Fraser opened his mouth to protest, then nodded. Ray struggled for professional detachment as Fraser undid the buttons of his brown jacket and slid his arms out of the sleeves. The guy's underarms were soaked with sweat. "Oh, dear," he said, looking at the stains, and started to put the jacket back on.

"Fraser, you are certifiable," Ray said, overcoming his lassitude for just long enough to lunge forward and snatch the jacket away. "Now are you gonna be good, or do I have to sit on this?"

Fraser's eyes widened, probably at the realization that if Ray sat on the jacket, he'd have to iron it later. In hundred-and-ten-degree heat. "I'll be good."

"Thank you," Ray said, handing the jacket back. "Hey!" he yelled at the waitress who was walking by them without a second glance. "Get my friend another lemonade. Another two lemonades! Extra ice. Hey! Hey, are you listening to me?" He was pretty sure she wasn't.

"Thank you, Ray," Fraser said, loosening his tie and already looking cooler. There was a pause. Ray, feeling slightly woozy, watched a bead of sweat trickle down Benny's neck. "I know you told me not to bring it up again, but my concern for your health prompts me to--"

Ray blinked, trying to focus. "Is this about the coffee again?"

"Yes. It simply seems that in such hot weather, hot coffee will add significantly to your discomfort. Perhaps you might try tea instead? As British officers and their families discovered when stationed in India, hot tea actually cools the body down. Actually, it's very interesting--the tea warms the jugular artery as you swallow it, fooling the brain into thinking the body is overheating. The brain then--"

"I don't drink tea, Benny."

"This is as good a time as any to start, Ray. In fact, the argument could be made that it's a better time than most."

"Fraser."

"The shop does serve iced coffee."

Like he wouldn't kill for a goddamn iced coffee. A few days ago he would have ordered one in the first place, but not after his conversation with Huey and Louie. Not when they were sitting around the corner from the 2-7. No way in hell. "I'm not drinking some iced mocha crap, Fraser."

Ice. Ice would be wonderful. He imagined holding an ice cube in his hand, running it over his forehead and down the back of his neck, blessedly cold and--but the image had shifted, and now he was running the ice cube down the back of Fraser's neck and around, down Fraser's chest, circling his nipples. Fraser would shiver silently and reach for him--this was not helping lower Ray's body temperature.

Fraser pressed his lips together. "But, Ray--" Ray glared, and Fraser broke off with a long-suffering sigh.

The resulting silence was broken by a familiar voice. "The frappucino is the greatest invention of our century," it said. Ray turned, and sure enough, Huey and Gardino were walking by. Ray's jaw dropped. They were carrying the biggest iced coffees Ray had ever seen. Whipped cream, chocolate syrup, crushed ice, big domed plastic lids with straws poking out, the whole deal. "It's like air conditioning in your stomach," Gardino continued enthusiastically. He pushed his huge sunglasses down his nose, looked at Ray over the tops. "Hey, Vecchio, you're wilting like week-old radicchio! You should really do something about that. We have a duty to uphold the image of Chicago's finest, wouldn't you agree, Jack?"

"Oh, absolutely, Louis," Huey said, licking icy mocha off his fingers.

Ray was too hot to get out of his chair. "Go to hell, duck boys," he shouted at their retreating backs.

"I'd be happy to buy you an iced coffee, Ray," Fraser said when they were out of earshot.

Ray watched Gardino bounce down the street, keeping easy pace with Huey's firm strides. "Those fuckers," he said, still stunned.

"Ray," Fraser said reproachfully, glancing at the family at the next table. "A police officer should always set a good example for children."

"But they are, Fraser," Ray insisted. "Those--the only reason I'm drinking this scorching crap is because of them!" He gestured wildly at his styrofoam cup, almost tipping it over.

Fraser raised his eyebrows. "I don't recall Detectives Huey and Gardino being present when you ordered it."

Ray knew he should shut up, but he was so pissed off he couldn't. "So the three of us are watching the game at a bar a few days ago, right?"

For a second Fraser looked...hurt. "I wasn't aware that the three of you socialized outside of work."

"Hey, I wanted to go with you but you were doing some doorman thing at the Consulate Saturday night, remember?"

Fraser relaxed. "Oh, of course."

"Look, that's not the point. The point, Fraser, is that I ordered my signature drink, cranberry club soda with a wedge of lemon, and they said it made me look gay!" They'd said a few other things, too, and even though they seemed to be joking, Ray didn't feel like risking it. He'd thought maybe a few small changes were in order. Ordering drinks with a bit more machismo had seemed like an easy enough place to start.

Fraser went still. "You are risking your health in the highest temperatures Chicago has experienced since 1976 to avoid appearing homosexual?"

Ray felt his face flushing--which was not okay in this kind of heat. He must look like a boiled lobster. He sure as hell felt like one. "No!....Well, maybe."

Fraser frowned. "You know, Ray, I haven't conducted an exhaustive survey, but I would predict beverage preference to be unconnected to sexual orientation." He looked at Ray and licked his lip. Jesus, why did he have to be so sexy when it was already so damn hot out? Didn't he have an off switch? "Furthermore, any number of competent law enforcement officials are homosexual."

No shit, Fraser, Ray thought. "Yeah, I'm sure, but they don't flaunt it," he said. "I mean, you know any of these competent gay law enforcement officials personally?"

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Then Fraser looked Ray right in the eye, very seriously, and said, "Yes, I do." Didn't say anything else, just kept looking right at Ray. And they were best friends and Fraser was a sharp guy and how the hell had Ray ever thought he could hide it?

This--this right here--was the exact reason he gave a damn whether Huey and Gardino knew he was queer. Because if they knew, the whole precinct would know. And if the whole precinct knew, sooner or later Fraser would know. Except apparently Fraser did know, and now the two of them were gonna have to talk about it. And Fraser was gonna be all understanding and supportive, and probably go to PFLAG meetings and read pamphlets and maybe even try to talk to him about safe sex and Ray just could not deal with that. Not when he wanted to be having safe sex with Fraser, and that, Fraser could never, ever know.

Ray slumped in his seat. "So you figured it out, huh?" He ran a hand over his face--a mistake, because it just smeared the sweat everywhere. "Yeah, fine, I'm queer, but don't start with the gay Inuits, okay? Just..."

He trailed off, because Fraser looked stunned. Stunned for Fraser, anyway, which meant an unconvincing oh, yes, of course expression, complete with innocent blinking, pursed lips, and nods.

"You didn't know, did you?"

Fraser pulled himself together. "No."

"Then what the hell was that meaningful stare about?" Ray demanded, perversely annoyed with Fraser for his own misunderstanding.

Fraser cleared his throat. "I--er--I was speaking of myself, Ray."

Ray's jaw nearly hit the table. "What?"

Fraser shifted uncomfortably in his seat and nodded.

Ray and Fraser looked at each other. Ray's throat was drier than an AA picnic. He took a sip of hot coffee, which didn't help all that much. But this was already the most awkward moment of Ray's life. What did he have to lose? He and Fraser both started talking at the same time.

"Fraser, is there any chance you--" he croaked.

"Ray, I wonder if--"

They both broke off. Fraser started to make one of those polite, Canadian go ahead gestures of his. Ray took a deep breath. Suddenly he wasn't sure he had the nerve.

But then Fraser pulled his hand back abruptly and leaned forward in his seat. "Ray," he said, his soft voice at odds with the red stain creeping up his neck, "my offer of an iced coffee is still open, if you think your professional image can support it."

"Holy--Fraser, did you just offer to buy me a drink?"

"I did." Fraser's blush seemed to be going back down. Possibly he was reassured by Ray's painfully unsuave expression of delight. Or possibly--

"Does that mean the same thing in Canada it does here?" Ray asked suspiciously.

Fraser's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I don't know, Ray, but in Canada it--well, it generally represents an expression of romantic interest."

"Yeah," Ray said, feeling like he was about to die of sunstroke even though Fraser probably only had Canadian and he'd end up paying for the drink anyway. "Yeah, okay."

Fraser smiled at him, a happy, relieved little smile, and that was it, Ray's heart was gonna explode like a baked potato someone forgot to poke holes in. Fraser raised his hand for the waitress. Of course she came over immediately. How did he do that? "An iced coffee for my friend, please," he said. "With cherry syrup. Thank you kindly."

Cherry? "Fraser, are you planning on drinking my coffee?"

"No, Ray. Tastes can linger in the mouth for as long as an hour or two after eating. Perhaps I was being presumptuous. Should I change the order?"

Fraser was talking about kissing. That iced coffee better arrive soon. And it better have lots of ice. "No, cherry is fine," he managed. "Cherry is great."