Written for karabou. (I'm almost certain that someone else has written this story, but I can't remember what it is, or if I just dreamed it--so if I have ripped this off from someone, please point me to the fic because I want to go read the rest of it!) PG.
Ray was pretty sure the Ice Queen was insane. Certifiable. She was also ambitious as all get-out and suddenly Meg Thatcher's seasonal balls were the hit of the Chicago society circuit, meaning the next had to top the last, and since she'd already done a red ball, a black and white ball, and a masque, the next option was a full-blown Regency-era costume party, complete with women in enormous ball gowns and men in black velvet waistcoats.
"Ray, that's really quite distracting," Fraser said, and Ray's hands stopped square in the center of Fraser's back.
"Uh, sorry. Velvet feels good, you know?"
"Yes, I quite understand." Fraser turned. "Oh dear."
"What? What's wrong?"
Fraser's hands went to Ray's throat. "I'm afraid—ah, allow me."
"What, the tie? Yeah, I couldn't figure it out, so I kind of…"
"Well, there were a number of different styles in which to tie a neck cloth in the early 19th Century," Fraser said, tugging and undoing the knot he'd made. "Let's see what we can do about this."
"Just make it something I won't need an instruction manual to get out of."
"Certainly, Ray."
Five minutes later, they made their debut in the consulate foyer, to much applause from Turnbull before he caught the Ice Queen's glance and scurried back to the front door to assist the doorman.
Inspector Thatcher's eyes ranged over them, assessing in that way she always did, like she was looking for dandruff on your shoulders or dirt under your fingernails. Her cheeks were a little flushed, though, and Ray wondered if she'd already snuck a glass of port from the bar. He wouldn't mind a sip himself, but it wouldn't be fair to Fraser if he did.
"Detective, Constable," she said at last, and Ray remembered to pull his eyes away from the low, square neck of her gown and look her in the eye.
*
Ray had seen more silk, satin, and velvet, powdered skin, and terrible dancing than in all the years since his high school prom. Including all of Stella's boring events for the bar. Worse, Thatcher had pinned him after her third whirl around the floor in the arms of the Brazilian ambassador and insisted that he lead her around the floor in a slow, sedate box step. Over her shoulder, he watched the Brazilian guy glare at him, and when Thatcher thanked him for the dance, he whispered into her ear, "No problemo. I'll cock-block for you anytime."
She flushed pink, so he winked at her, just to see if she'd blush harder.
She did. And in revenge, she placed a string of elderly women, swimming in powder and perfume, into his arms for the next three hours.
Fraser found Ray hiding outside the kitchen door.
"Are you all right, Ray?"
"Needed some air."
"It is rather close in there."
Ray smirked. "The biddies getting handsy with you, too?"
Fraser stiffened. "I wouldn't say—"
"Nah, you wouldn't say, would you." Ray grinned at him. "I think it's the tails, personally."
"The tails?" Fraser looked down at the side of his coat where the hem cut away. Then he looked up and caught the look in Ray's eyes.
Ray side-stepped closer. "Like peacocks, maybe."
"Peacocks, Ray?" Fraser's voice was low and a little husky, and his eyes were glazing over like he had no idea what he was saying.
"Yeah," Ray said, and if he hadn't stopped to watch Fraser staring at his mouth, he would've been kissing the hell out of him.
But he didn't, so he was blinking up at the Ice Queen herself, standing on the kitchen step with her hands folded across her chest against the cold. "Gentlemen!" she snapped. "If you would be so kind."
Guiltily, they trudged inside and back down to the ballroom with Thatcher on their heels, and the chamber ensemble slid into a low, intricate, and entirely unexpected tango.
The ambassador from Brazil was at their elbow. "My dear Meg…" he said, holding out a hand.
"I'm so sorry," she said, fumbling, as Ray took her hand and spun her out onto the floor.