Title: London, Canadian Style
Fandom: due South
Rating: G
Length: ~550 words
Content notes: Ray K/Turnbull. It's a recipe for crack, so naturally I couldn't resist.
Author notes: This is thanks to lilsi. The pub in question is The Maple Leaf.
Summary: Ray and Turnbull are on holiday. It doesn't go as planned.


“If it wasn’t for you, I’d say I was actually in hell,” Ray muttered under his breath as he stabbed a fork into the mess of fries, cheese and gravy on his plate. Seriously, gravy on fries. Who did that?

“Or maybe Purgatory. I mean. I go traveling Europe with you for a month, we plan it so that we’re in London for this—rock ‘n’ roll capital of the whole damn place, none of this Paris lovebird business—and then we can’t get places because half their damn subway is closed, it rains all the time, and I’m spending Valentine’s Day in a crummy Canadian bar. Watching rugby.”

He gestured at the television. “It wouldn't be so bad if it was hockey. Or maybe even curling. But since when was rugby relevant to Canadian interests?”

He fidgeted on his bar stool and gave Renfield a sidelong glance. Renfield, on the other hand, made a serious face.

“My dearest Ray, the rugby, as you should be well aware of, is purely incidental. May I remind you that it was you who was complaining of the cold and the rain outside, and I simply steered us to the nearest available public house. I should also believe that after three days of, as you rightly observed, persistent bad weather and transport mishaps, I am allowed to indulge my homes—I mean, my patriotism—at least a little.”

One corner of Ray’s mouth curled up in amusement. You simply had to love a man who could deliver a comeback like that with a completely straight face.

“Well, the more you know. Would have thought you’d fit right in here, you know. England being the mother ship and all.” He dropped his fork by way of giving up on the food.

Renfield turned to him. “That was my assumption as well, but there is, as they say, nothing like seeing for yourself. It would appear some things are best loved from a distance.” He blinked rapidly and turned his attention to the screens.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Ray nodded to the barkeep and ordered a beer. He drank in silence and watched the rain beat down onto the pavement outside. It had started out heavy and out of nowhere, but by the time he’d reached the bottom of the pint it had dwindled to a drizzle.

He leaned over, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Looks like the flood’s let up. So how about we, you know. Go back to the hotel, stay dry for the rest of the day? We could find a nicer way to warm up.”

Renfield looked at him, one eyebrow raised in a quizzical manner, but Ray saw straight through it, and Renfield knew.

He swallowed, relaxed a little, and responded in a low voice, “I think I’d like that very much.”

Ray nodded and leaned over for a kiss that was meant to be a quick brush of the lips, but turned into something that carried a lot more heat.

Renfield drew back and cleared his throat. His hand slid into Ray's.

“Right you are,” Ray said and didn't resist the pull.