Disclaimer: Characters belong to Alliance and the Pauls.  More's the pity.
Notes: I suppose this fits the ds_flashfiction cliche challenge (where I got the idea), but mostly I just wanted to write a Turnbull piece.


Bonding

The gruff man with the gun bellowed, “Strip!”

“But… but…”

“Now!”

Constable Renfield Turnbull, RCMP sighed.  Quickly and methodically, he undid his Sam Browne.  He carefully placed it on the floor.  The lanyard was next.  With great reverence, he unbuttoned and slipped off the serge.  He folded it neatly and placed it on the floor with a frown.  He was sure it would get dirty.

”Hurry up!” the man barked.

Ren put a boot up on the desk and worked off the laces.  He glanced over at Detective Vecchio.  The blonde was sitting at the side of the desk on the floor handcuffed to one of the legs.  Ray was only wearing a thin pair of black boxer briefs.  Ren watched goosebumps appear over his bare chest and shoulders.  He looked up at Ren and grinned ruefully.  The first boot fell to the floor.  Ren quickly put up his other foot on the desk and worked through the laces.  It fell to the floor next to the first and he shimmied out of his jodhpurs.  Before he could lay them with the rest, the man with the gun shoved him to his knees.  A pair of handcuffs landed in front of him.

“You know the drill,” the man grunted.

Ren sat down opposite the half naked detective.  He hooked the cuffs around the desk leg and fastened them onto his wrists.  He felt funny sitting on the Consulate floor in his boxers and white T-shirt.  The man with the gun collected his uniform and Detective Vecchio’s clothes and quickly left.  Ray sighed and banged his head against Inspector Thatcher’s desk.

“Detective, please don’t injure yourself,” Ren said softly.

Ray stopped and asked, “Turnbull, when are Frase and the Ice Queen supposed to be back?”

“Late this evening, Detective.”

“Ray.”

“Late this evening, Ray.  I must apologize for this.”

“It’s not your fault the guy tried to rob the place.  It’s not your fault that I left my gun in the car.  I don’t care what kind of stinking gun laws you have in your country, or what kind of moony Mountie eyes Fraser gives me, that won’t be happening again.”

Ray leaned back as far as the cuffs would allow and sighed.

“This is quite embarrassing.  I do hope that you won’t hold it against Canada, that we haven’t made a bad impression,” Ren said quickly.

“Hey, the scumbag was American.  Don’t worry about it, Turnbull.  So how late’s late, anyway?”

“Well, that is true Detec… Ray.  Let’s see, it’s four o’clock now and if you take in account driving times and traffic…”

“Rough estimate, Turnbull.”

“About five hours, Ray, give or take an hour.”

“Tell me again why the Ice Queen needed to have her damn desk bolted to the floor?  The thing weighs a hundred pounds as it is.”

He sat up straighter and could feel heat on his cheeks.

“Well, there was a slight problem with her first desk.”

Ray smirked and asked, “What happened?  What did you do?”

“It was entirely accidental.”

Ren dearly hoped that the Detective wouldn’t want the whole story.  It was one of the worst and most embarrassing moments of his time at the Consulate.  Ray apparently sensed his unease and only smiled.

“How loud did she scream?” he asked instead.

Ren’s eyes widened in remembrance.  This sent Ray into a fit of laughter.

“That loud, huh?”

Ren sighed, “Is there something else I can convince you to talk about?”

“What do we have in common?  I mean, I’m not much for curling.  We don’t listen to the same kinds of music.”

“You don’t like country?”

“I’ll listen to about anything, but it’s not my favorite, no.”

Ren tried to think about what he knew about the American.  As he thought, Ray shivered.

“Here, let’s move to where we’re side-by-side.  We keep the Consulate colder than you’re probably used to.”

“Thanks, Turnbull.  Pining for home, huh?”

They slid around moving legs and jerking at handcuffs until they sat shoulder to shoulder.  Ray hunched up against his side.

“You’re probably relieved to be out of that wool,” Ray said.

“I worry what that malfeasant will do with my uniform.  I honestly don’t see why we had to take our clothes off.”

“Humiliation factor.  Also, it adds another obstacle to escape.  I’ve seen guys do it before.”

“You must have a lot of interesting stories.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about work.  So no work, no curling, no music… I don’t suppose you watch any other sports?”

He sighed, “Not really, Ray, no.”

“Well, I suppose there’s got to be something we have in common.  It don’t seem right to talk about Frase, and I know you’ll get bent out of shape if I slam Thatcher.”

Ren turned his head to give Ray a disapproving look, but ended up getting a face full of experimental hair instead.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting handcuffed to a desk on the floor in my undies with a Mountie,” Ray said.  “I can almost remember what being a normal cop was like.  Seems like a dream now, and how screwed up is that?  Normal is a dream and wacky is everyday.”

“I’m sorry,” he said unsure of how to reply.

“It’s not your fault, Turnbull.  Don’t start getting all bent out of shape.  I can’t deal with that right now too.”

“Do you read?”

“Huh?”

“Do you read, Ray?  I thought we might have that in common.”

“Uh, not a lot, no.”

Ren sighed.  It was silent a moment, then he spoke.

“Once upon a time, in the country of Padua, there lived two sisters.”

Ray leaned back from his shoulder to give him a funny look.  Ren caught it out of the corner of his eye, but he continued anyway.

“The oldest sister was fair, but it was the younger sister, Bianca, that was renowned for her beauty.  Many were the men of Padua that wanted to woo her.  There was only one problem.  Her father, Baptista, refused to allow Bianca to wed until the older sister Katherine had a husband.  You see, Katherine was a shrew.  She was a willful and bold woman that would obey no man.  She refused every suitor that came to the house, and in doing so broke her sister’s heart.”

As he paused for a breath, Ray interrupted.

“What’s this?”

“Well, Ray, it’s Shakespeare. The Taming of the Shrew to be precise.  You said that you didn’t read much and we couldn’t find anything else to talk about.  I thought a story would be appropriate.”

“You’re telling me a story?”

“Yes, Ray.”

“Shakespeare… I think I read this one in school.  It’s been a while though.  Is this the one with the bitchy chick and the smartass guy that keeps telling her the sun is the moon?”

Ren gave a surprised smile, “Yes, Ray, that’s the story I was telling.”

“Huh.  You tell it a lot better.  I couldn’t hardly understand all those funny words in school.  Why couldn’t he just write it how people talk?”

“Um, it’s just a verse version of how people spoke at the time.”

“Verse.  That’s poetry like.”

“Yes.”

“No wonder it didn’t make any sense.  Go on, tell me the rest.”

“Well, as I was saying, Katherine would take no man for a husband though many tried.  You see, Baptista was a wealthy man and there was a hefty dowry that went with Katherine’s hand.  In the midst of this struggle, a young man from Paris by the name of Lucentio arrived in Padua.  He was immediately taken with Bianca.  He wanted her for his bride.  Only the hateful Katherine stood in the way.  Meanwhile, a gentleman of Verona by the name of Petruchio also came to Padua…”

Ren spoke for some time.  Every once in a while, Ray would interrupt with a question of comment.  His insight into people from his years as a police officer served him well as he talked about the characters.  After a while, they moved on to Twelfth Night.  They were in the middle of a heated discussion of love and whether it could overcome a person’s usual sexual orientation when the light flipped on.

“Good Lord!” Inspector Thatcher gasped.

Ren looked down at Ray and himself.  From her position at the door, the Inspector’s view of the handcuffs would be blocked by the desk.  To her, it would appear that he and Ray were simply sitting on the floor cuddling in their underwear talking about love and homosexuality.

“Oh dear,” he said feeling his face heat.

“Thank God!  Please tell me that Frase is out there and he has a pair of handcuff keys!” Ray said quickly.

They watched the Inspector’s mouth work with no sound coming out.  After a second, Constable Fraser appeared beside her.  Her yelp must have attracted his attention.

“Ray?” Fraser asked.  The other Constable’s raised eyebrow caused Ren to blush even more.

“Frase!  Get your cuff keys.  Some asshole tried to rob the place and cuffed us to Thatcher’s desk,” Ray continued.

Fraser was across the room in two strides.  He checked their wrists and reached into his cartridge case to pull out a set of keys.

“Where are your clothes?” Thatcher asked from the doorway.

“The gentleman took them, Ma’am,” he said rubbing his wrists.  They were sore and red, but the skin wasn’t broken.  He stood and rubbed his backside which had gone numb at some point.  As soon as Ray’s cuffs were off, he was on his feet practically vibrating with pent up energy, or perhaps he was shivering.  It was hard to tell.

“Ray,” Fraser said, “it’s quite chilly in here. Let me get you something to wear.  Perhaps you should call it in.”

“And hear about it from Huey, Dewey, and the rest of the station for weeks?  Nuh uh, Frase.  No way.  The guy didn’t take anything but our clothes.  Did you have any credit cards or anything on you, Turnbull?”

“No, I only had about ten dollars in Canadian funds on my person, Ray.”

“Yeah, my wallet’s still in the car, too.  I just need to go home and get my spare keys so I can get into the goat.”

Ren stood, slightly embarrassed about his state of dress, watching the pair disappear around the corner.  He looked over at the Inspector who seemed to be concentrating very hard on his neck.

“Um, very good Constable… I’m sorry about all of this,” she said, her eyes dropping to his chest before snapping back to his neck.  “Take tomorrow off.  I’ll be sure to have Fraser requisition a replacement uniform.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

He walked towards the door and paused.  How was he supposed to walk home like this?

“Hey, Turnbull, wait up!” Ray said coming down the hall.  He was wearing one of Fraser’s flannel shirts and was holding up a pair of jeans that were too large for his lithe hips.

“Yes, Ray?”

“You can’t go out like that.  Frase is getting some sweats for you to wear.”

“That’s very thoughtful of him.”

“That’s Canadians for you,” Ray said with a wink.

Fraser came back down the hall with the clothes.  Ren pulled them on self-consciously as the other two men watched.  Once dressed, the arms and legs were short but serviceable, Ren turned to leave.

“Oh,” he said looking back at Fraser, “the Inspector has given me tomorrow off, Sir.  It there anything you need me to do before I go?”

“No, Turnbull, thank you.  I’m just sorry we couldn’t have rescued you and Ray sooner.”

“Ah, that’s all right, Frase.  Turnbull and I had fun despite everything,” Ray said surprising both Mounties.  “We should do it again sometime, Turnbull.  Only with, like, clothes and no handcuffs.”

“I’d like that very much, Ray.  Thank you.”


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