Disclaimer: Fraser & Turnbull belong to Alliance, more's the pity.
Notes: Written for ds_flashfiction's Naive Fraser Challenge....  


…In a Can


The annual Consulate Diplomatic Reception was a big deal.  They had been preparing for it for weeks.  Due to the importance of some of the guests, security was essential.  This was how Fraser found himself standing at the front door with a metal detection wand.  Turnbull was a few paces ahead of him in the open doorway checking invitations while he used the wand to search the guests for weapons.  Most of the guests had arrived by the time the gentleman approached the open front door.  At first, Fraser was sure that Turnbull would turn him away.  After all, he was hardly wearing the required black tie, but the man reached into his jacket and pulled out an invitation just the same.

Turnbull stepped aside with his usual smile.  Benton took a moment to think back over the guests and remembered that there was a rock and roll personality on the list.  He remembered Ray being surprised and somewhat excited by that fact.  Fraser stared at the young man in his large boots, dark pants, and leather jacket.  The man saw his wand and took off the jacket and handed it over to him.  He set the wand aside and searched it by hand.  There were too many metal snaps, zippers, and chains for the wand to do any good.  When he didn’t find any weapons, he carefully set the coat on a chair and picked up the wand again.  The man held out his arms without having to be asked.  Fraser moved the wand over the man’s upper torso and arms before bending down to his feet.  The wand let out a shrill noise and he tapped it against the boots to confirm that they were steel toed.  Fraser quickly moved the wand up the man’s legs.  As soon as he reached the man’s crotch the wand sounded again.  Fraser stepped back with a questioning look.

“Prince Albert,” the guitarist said.

“Well, Mr. Albert, I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain yourself.”

The musician looked at him incredulously before smiling.  A throat cleared to Fraser’s right and he looked over to find Turnbull watching the proceedings.  The other Constable rested a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close.  Fraser could feel Turnbull’s warm breath tickle the hairs on his neck as he whispered quietly into his ear.  Finally, Turnbull stepped back.  Fraser stood perfectly still and blinked several times.  He quickly recovered and smiled his usual gracious smile.

“Here’s your jacket, sir.  Thank you and have a nice evening.”

The guitarist took his coat with a chuckle and disappeared into the crowd.  Fraser turned his head to see that Turnbull had moved back to his station, but he was still facing him.

“Why?” the word escaped from his lips softly.

Turnbull shrugged one shoulder and turned his back to Fraser to stare out the door.

“I won’t believe it until I see it,” Fraser said, mostly to himself.

Turnbull looked back over his shoulder and replied, “After the reception I’d be happy to show you, sir.”

Fraser snapped his head around to look at his co-worker, but the Constable was again facing the other way.  

“Oh?” he asked.

There was no response.  Fraser stared more closely and he could see the back of Turnbull’s neck was nearly as red as his serge.

“Oh!” he said.  

Fraser looked down at the wand in his hand and glanced over at the other man’s backside with a thoughtful look.

“Hmm,” he said and stood back at parade rest to wait.  

Back