Cliches and undergarments

[dracostella.livejournal.com]

So, technically, this is three responses in one story. The first part I've already posted for the cliche challenge, except the story didn't want to end there. And I couldn't post the conclusion in time for the cliche challenge, but since there are undergarments in this one I figure I can sneak it in...
Thanks to Chesamus for the quick and thorough beta.


The file crinkled under the pressure of Ray's hand, but he didn't even notice until he saw Fraser staring down in his general direction. He dropped the file immediately on Welsh's desk.

"The best we can figure, someone broke in to the State Attorney's office and got a hold a list of the names of all the narcs," Welsh said. A pause. "Including the undercover narcs." Welsh emphasized. "So the narcotics unit is asking us to handle this operation."

"I'll do it," Ray said immediately. "Hell, Stella always said I liked Bowie too much anyway. I'll fit right in."

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Detective." Welsh sat up from his chair. "But you did three years in buy and bust operations, not to mention your resemblance to Officer Reilly. You'll be recognized."

"We all did time in narc!" Ray leaned forward towards Welsh so he could look the lieutenant in the eye. Welsh did not bulge. "Hell, even Dewey did six months there. It's like some unwritten rule to get into major crimes. Who the hell you planning to send in?"

"I was hoping that Constable Fraser would volunteer."

Ray looked up at Fraser immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Welsh doing the same. Fucking hell. Welsh got them in here to get Fraser to go undercover.

"Fraser would stick out like a sore thumb in front of a gay club!" Ray felt his face flush red.

"Actually Ray…"

"Shut up, Fraser." Ray forced himself to look away from Fraser. "He doesn't look gay. He doesn't look like he's ever touched anything stronger than apple cider. No perp in their right mind would go anywhere near him!"

"He doesn't look like a hardened narc either." Welsh drummed his finger on the file in front of him.

"Neither did Reilly!" Ray slammed his fist into Welsh's desk.

"Reilly is number 57 on the list of narcs," Welsh said. "They knew who he was."

"Yeah, and they know we know they've got the list," Ray countered. "They know we aren't stupid enough to send someone they'd recognize."

"What do you suggest we do?" Welsh asked.

Ray opened his mouth, then closed it, and felt a weird moment go by.

"Ray, I think the most logical solution is for me to go undercover on this operation," Fraser said calmly, and Ray had a sudden urge to punch him. "Lt. Welsh is right; it is unlikely the assailants of Officer Reilly will recognize me."

"And they won't sell meth to you either!"

"I don't think you are being entirely fair to my undercover abilities," Fraser said. "Like yourself, I have participated in numerous undercover operations."

"The Constable is right," Welsh chimed in.

"In one particular instance, I went undercover in a Catholic school as a female teacher," Fraser continued, and Ray's urge to punch him increased. "I'm certain that I will be able to produce the semblance of… a male prostitute for example… or perhaps a female impersonator."

Ray settled for punching the desk again. This was going to be one fucked up sting.

***

As it turned out, it was much worse than Ray had envisioned. While he watched the tech, a short Asian woman, put the wiretap between Fraser's fake rack, Ray had the distinct feeling that he wasn't drunk enough for this.

"Is it going to be able to transmit properly under all that?" Ray asked.

"Of course, Ray, these prosthetics will not hamper the signals," Fraser answered before the tech could, but she nodded as Fraser talked.

"Don't talk to me, Fraser," Ray said, trying very hard not to look at Fraser's over made up face. "I'm going to have nightmares as it is. Who the hell did your face? You look like fucking Elvira, mistress of the darkness!"

"He's going undercover as a drag queen, detective," the tech said. "I believe the objective is so that he can look like a drag queen, not as a female. I did his make up accordingly as Constable Fraser's own initial attempt was too… feminine."

"Ms. Woo has been most helpful in educating me on trends in cross dressing, and the underground gay club scene." Fraser smiled with painted red lips.

"Yeah, because she must be, like, an expert on the underground gay club scene." Ray crossed his arms as the tech glared at him.

She turned to Fraser and asked something that was probably in Cantonese, because it sure the hell wasn't anything that Ray could understand.

Fraser answered back something, but he was shaking his head.

The bitch then turned and looked over Ray deliberately, then turned back to Fraser and said something else.

"I'm a little out of practice," Fraser said immediately.

"I think you're quite fluent Mr. Fraser," she said just as the door to the surveillance van opened.

"Are you all ready?" Welsh asked, bracing himself on the doors.

"Yes," Fraser answered first.

"Vecchio is going to be across the street, Dewey and Huey are stationed down the block around the corner, there are two black and white arrest units in the area, and I've got four plain clothes cops doing surveillance. If anything goes wrong at all, and I mean anything Constable, you give us the signal immediately!" Welsh instructed as Fraser stepped out of the van in his tall black boots.

"I understand." Fraser adjusted his mini-skirt, and ran his fingers through the black wig.

"Vecchio is going to drop you off five blocks away from the club, and you'll have to walk the rest of the way. Okay?"

Fraser nodded.

"Let's get this over with," Ray stuffed his hand in his pockets and stalked to his car. Behind him, he heard the loud clang of Fraser's heels striking the pavement.

He didn't bother opening the door for Fraser even though he was pretty sure it was damn hard for Fraser to move around in the little pleather jacket and skirt he's got on.

It was with some satisfaction that Ray heard a slight squeak of the pleather as Fraser finally did make it inside. Resisting the urge to look at him, Ray started up the car.

"How is Officer Reilly?" Fraser asked after a moment of silence.

"They still don’t know," Ray drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the car to warm up. "He's tox levels were so high, and he's so damn small."

"Have you worked with him?" Fraser asked as Ray shifted the gear.

"Two years in vice together."

"Ah."

"He looks a lot like me… down to the experimental blonde hair…" Ray stared at the road in front of him. "Except he's so much smaller. 5'6" and under 115 lbs. The other cops used to make fun of him by calling him Little Ray."

"That must have been awkward for both of you." Fraser's voice was all quiet, but Ray couldn't bring himself to look at Fraser.

"Yeah, well, he looked so much like me, Stella fucked him right after we got divorced," Ray continued. He had drove past the point where he was supposed to drop of Fraser, so he swung a quick left.

"Ray…"

"Reilly came up to me the next day and offered to let me punch him."

"Ray."

"They were both drunk, he said. I know he must have been, because Reilly's a good guy. I just don't know if I could say the same about Stella. She was out to hurt me at that point… Stupid thing was, instead of getting mad at her for using Reilly, I stopped talking to Reilly."

"It's not your fault he's hurt, Ray."

Ray slammed on the brakes.

They were back at the drop off point.

"Ray."

"Don't do anything stupid, Fraser," Ray said.

There was a brief pause, before Fraser said, "Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck, Fraser, you need a good plastic surgeon."

Ray turned his head just in time to see Fraser smile as he got out of the GTO.

Ray watched Fraser walk off a ways when his PC radio buzzed in his ear

"What?" Ray spoke into the mic strapped on his shoulder.

"In the future, detective, you will be wanting to remember that your partner is wearing a wire," a vaguely familiar female voice came through the radio.

"Shit!"

"I haven't started broadcasting the wire yet," the female voice paused. "You owe me, Kowalski."

It's that damn tech.

"Shit!" Ray slammed his head on his steer wheel. He hoped she was cleared for security, because he just blew his cover. When he looked up again, Fraser was already out of sight, but the radio started to hum. Faintly, he heard the clicking of Fraser's heels.

Shifting his car back into gear, Ray drove toward the club. He passed Fraser on the way, but he forced himself not to look.

He parked his car two blocks away, got out of the car, and slammed the door shut harder than he had meant to.

"We see Fraser coming up toward the block... DAMN, who did his make up?" Dewey's voice buzzed in his ear.

"White male in a blue jacket approaching him." A different voice. Ray was pretty sure it was Mac from narc. "I recognize him. Angel. I busted him for sales back in 96."

Ray quickened his pace, and tucked himself in the alley across from the club before he swung around and looked toward Fraser's general direction.

"Hey," a tall Hispanic punk dressed in an oversized jacket was talking to Fraser.

"Hallo," Fraser's voice came through louder.

"I bet you're real pretty under all that make up," the punk was saying.

"Thank you kindly..."

Ray inhaled sharply and swore. Didn't no one tell Fraser how to talk?

Shit, that was probably his job, but he had been too fucked up over the whole thing with Reilly to teach Fraser how to talk.

"You with anyone?" the punk was leaning closer to Fraser.

"Not at the moment, no," Fraser was leaning back slightly. "I just came here to." Pause. "Party." Pause. "Long and hard."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ray banged his head against the wall.

In his ear, he heard punk laughing.

"Shit, you looking for drugs?" the punk asked. "You don't want that from this place. Some real mean mother fuckers in this joint."

"I was told that someone at this establishment offered better narcotics than anywhere else," Fraser said.

Shit fucking shit! Ray had to make a conscious effort not to bang his head against the wall as hard as he could. Nobody on the street says narcotics. Only State's Attorneys and Judges and cops on the stand say fucking narcotics.

The punk ain't stupid either. "Are you a cop or something?" the punk stepped back from Fraser.

When Fraser did not immediately answer. Ray reached for his gun in case the punk was packing.

But the punk didn't seem to notice Fraser missing the beat on the answer because he was talking again. "Shit, don't answer that. You're too polite to be a cop. I'm just freaked right now." The punk leaned in again, and whispered, "Ronnie's the one with the strong speed crap. But you don't want to mess with him. He took out an undercover cop last week, and I'm surprised this place isn't swarming with them."

"Ronnie must be a daring man to take out an officer," Fraser said.

"Yeah well, Ronnie is a crazy fucker that's what he is. You know what cops do to cop killers?" the punk leaned back and formed a gun with his hand. "Pow. They're dead long before they get anywhere near court."

Ray willed Fraser not to get into a speech about justice and start defending the CPD…

"I think I would like to meet this Ronnie," Fraser said and Ray went back to breathing.

"Why?"

"I must admit I am somewhat of an adrenaline addict. Ronnie sounds like someone who might provide me with adequate-stimulation."

"They don't make them like you no more," the punk said. "You sure that's what you want?"

"Yes, I'm quite certain."

"I can introduce you to Ronnie," the punk said.

Bingo!

"If you party with me."

Shit!

From the across the street, Ray watched Fraser nod.

The punk extended an arm out, and Fraser took them. "You got a name?"

"Bernadette." Arms linked, they began walking together.

"I'm Angel."

"That's a lovely name."

"Thanks."

"What the fuck is going on here?" Dewey asked, echoing Ray's own thoughts.

At the entrance of the club they paused.

"You want to talk to Ronnie, you got to go inside," the punk was saying.

"No. No going inside," Ray whispered. "Stick with the plan Fraser."

"I was told I could make purchases outside of the establishment."

Angel nods. "You can buy stuff if you wait out here, but to talk to Ronnie you gotta go inside."

"Don't go inside the fucking club, Fraser." Ray muttered fiercely under his breath.

As if Fraser was intentionally trying to piss Ray off, Fraser straightened his skirt and walked into to the club without another word. The bouncer didn't even take a second look at him let alone ask for the cover.

"They went in the club!" Ray practically yelled in his radio.

"No way his wire is picking up anything inside!" Mac yelled back.

"I'm going in after him, we don't have no one inside..." Before Ray even finished talking, the loud music of the club blasted through his earpiece. With his left hand, he ripped it off his head as he ran across the street to the club.

The bouncer saw him coming and immediately stepped between him and the door.

Ray reached into his wallet as fast as he could and took out a twenty. "Some guy just went inside with my boyfriend. I gotta get him back!"

The bouncer took the twenty and stepped aside without searching him. "Don't cause no trouble now."

"I just want my partner back!" Ray said as he went inside. "So I can kick him in the head."

The inside of the club was loud, dark, and smelt of sex. Ray spun his head around a few times before he finally spotted Fraser's shoulder length wig, and Fraser's pleather wrapped butt.

When Ray saw who Fraser was talking to, he reached for his gun.

The punk called the guy Ronnie, but Ray knew him by another name all together-Martin Dalquist, Stella's first big case. Dalquist had tried to run down two cops with a convertible full of dope before he was shot. Stella had convicted the guy, but some fucking retired visiting judge gave him three years.

The son of a bitch was on the street again, and the son of bitch had a hand on Fraser's butt. Ray couldn't see Fraser's face, but he recognized that body language. Fraser was standing stiffer than a block of wood.

Ray squeezed through the crowd toward them.

Just when he was about to get close enough to hear what was going on, Ray saw Dalquist reaching into his jacket and start to pull out the end of a-

"Chicago PD, everyone get down!" His gun was already in his hand and aimed at Dalquist when he gave out the command.

Too late he realized that only the people closest to him heard his voice, rest of the crowd saw the gun and went wild.

"CPD, get down—"

Something blunt hit the back of his head.

***
The first thing Ray noticed when he came to was that he was freezing. The second thing he noticed was a persistent string of words that had his name in it. And the third thing Ray noticed was that his head was lying on something unpleasantly soft and squashy.

"What the hell is that?" Ray asked.

"Ray, you are awake," Fraser's voice.

"What the hell am I lying on? Where are we? Why is it so dark in here?"

"You are lying on my breasts, Ray," Fraser said. "I believe we are in the freezer of the establishment. There is no need for lights in the freezer when the door is not opened."

Ray didn't really understood most of what Fraser said because he had to process the breasts part.

Undercover sting.

Shit.

"Christ in a bucket!" Ray tried to get up, but Fraser was firmly holding him down.

"You have a head injury, Ray-"

As soon as Fraser said it, Ray felt it. His head hurt like hell, and now he was no longer hung up on the soft squashy thing, he felt blood in the back of his head.

"One of Ronnie's employees struck you with a nightstick," Fraser said, his breath warm against Ray's head. "Although I must admit I'm at a loss as to why they decided to put us in the freezer."

"Jesus Fraser, what's with you and nutcases? Whatever happened to a bullet in the head? Why do the bad guys you meet always have to think of some roundabout way of killing us? I feel like James fucking Bond, except without the gadgets and chicks."

"Well, Ray, we would not be in this predicament in the first place if you had not announced your presence."

"He was reaching for a gun!"

"It was a lighter, Ray."

"It looked like a gun... And you shouldn't have gone into the club! We actually had backup this time!"

"It seemed to be the best way to apprehend—"

Fraser stopped talking midsentence and wrapped his arms around Ray, and Ray realized suddenly that he had been shivering.

"I'm sure Lt. Welsh and the other officers will find us soon, Ray."

Ray was felt too dizzy to argue otherwise.

"But you must try to stay awake."

"Yeah, okay," Ray said, but he let his body slump further into Fraser. "What the hell is in your boobs anyway? Is that the wire I'm feeling?"

"Ronnie removed the wire already-"

"He felt up your boobs?" Ray felt oddly protective over fake boobs.

"In a matter of speaking, yes," Fraser said. "But we needn't go into that at this juncture. I believe what you are currently feeling is the underwire of the bra."

"You're wearing a bra?"

"The breasts would fall off otherwise, Ray."

"Jesus," Ray whispered.

"Ms. Woo was quite helpful in getting them to stay in place."

"Hey, what did she say to you in Cantonese or whatever?"

Fraser was quiet for a moment, and Ray wondered why…

"Ray. Ray. Ray!"

"What?"

"You were losing consciousness again."

"Did you tell me what she said?"

"Well, bear in mind that she was speaking in Mandarin, which I am not as familiar with as Cantonese."

Long pause.

"She asked if we were involved in an intimate relationship."

Ray's heart very elaborately skipped a beat.

Shit. Did he seem that protective?

"She said something else to you. What else did she say?" Ray asked. It suddenly seemed important.

"I believe she said that she thought you wanted an intimate relationship with me," Fraser said.

"She said fucking, didn’t she? She said I wanted to fuck you didn't she?" Ray tried to remember the look the she gave him.

"I am out of practice with my Mandarin, Ray. She could have said elephants like to sing in the southern region of China-"

Before Fraser finished his sentence, there was a loud metal noise of something opening, and light poured into the freezer.

***

When Ray came to again, he was in a bed in a white room he didn’t recognize. It took him seconds to remember what happened, and recognize that he was in a hospital. He wiggled his fingers and toes, and none of them seemed to be completely out of whack.

"You're finally awake." Ray looked toward the voice, but he couldn't make out the face by the door.

The figure came closer, and Ray realized it was Reilly in a hospital gown, rolling along an IV attached to his wrist.

"You look like hell," Reilly said as he took out an unlit cigarette from his mouth.

"How the hell did you get a cigarette in a hospital?" Ray asked. His voice sounded hoarse, and his mouth tasted like crap.

"I whined a lot. But the head nurse promises to do ungodly things to me if I lit it," Reilly said. "My wife ain't none too happy about it either."

"You married?" Ray felt... left out.

"Two months," Reilly smiled. "I sent you an invitation but you went undercover."

"I'm Vecchio," Ray said.

"Armani guy?" Reilly snorted. "Can't imagine you in an Armani."

"Don't got any."

"So how are you passing off as him?"

"Don't know, 'cause I ain't Italian with a big nose either."

Reilly laughed, and Ray laughed with him. It felt good to talk to Reilly again.

"Got yourself a mountie, eh?" Reilly nodded his head toward the corner of the room, and Ray noticed Fraser was there for the first time. Fraser was passed out on an uncomfortable looking chair with his head tilted back slightly, and his mouth open. The sight made Ray ache in weird places.

"Abby says the mountie hasn't left the hospital since you been here. Spent two days in this room. Some other mountie had to bring him clean cloths."

"Abby?"

"My wife."

"Who's been looking all over for you." Ray looked up at the newcomer in the room, and nearly chocked.

"Abby, meet Ray Kowal...Vecchio. Ray, this is Abby," Reilly said as his wrapped an arm around his wife.

"We've met," the tech said. "Come on, Mike. The head nurse will kill you if you don't get back into bed."

"Aren't you gonna protect me?" Reilly asked, but he was already on his way out of the room.

"I'll help her do it if it helps to keep you in bed," the tech—Abby said.

"See you later, Ray," Reilly said. "I'm in 207."

"Bye—"

Abby smiled smugly at Ray before she left, and Ray suddenly remembered what she had heard about Reilly and Stella. And holy shit, Ray hoped Abby wasn't the jealous or vengeful type. He wondered if he should maybe warn Stella—

"Ray?"

Ray turned his head back towards Fraser.

"Hey, Fraser."

Fraser's hair was all messed up... which made Ray feel—

"Reilly's married to that tech," Ray blurted out.

Fraser looked at him. Looked at him like he knew that Ray was going to blurt something else out instead.

"Yes, I am aware of that, Ray," Fraser said, real soft. "You will be happy to know that 'Ronnie' who's real name is Martin Dalquist has been arrested. With Officer Reilly's testimony in addition to our own, State's Attorney Rowland feels quite confident that Mr. Dalquist will spend the remainder of his life in prison."

"Great. Greatness."

For a minute, nobody said anything. Then, Fraser scratched his eyebrow. "Ray, what Ms.Woo... Mrs... Reilly... Abigail said about—"

"The three of them is right." Ray stared at his pillow. Hell, if even a stranger can figure it out, Fraser might as well hear it from him.

Silence. Ray hated uncomfortable silences.

It was almost better when Ray finally heard Fraser get up and walk toward the door. At least that was something, some reaction. But when Ray heard the door shut, he had to close his eyes. He didn't exactly expect Fraser to jump into his arms, but he had kind of hoped that—

The door clicked.

The clicking sounded like a lock. Ray opened his eyes again.

Then Fraser started to walk over towards the bed and Ray had to look at him. Fraser was walking toward him, and Jesus, Fraser was looking at his mouth.

"Fraser, what are you—"

Fraser ate rest of the sentence.

Ray thought fuzzily that his mouth must taste like crap, but Fraser didn't seem to mind. A few seconds after Fraser had his tongue on Ray's mouth, Ray forgot about it too.