fic: Method
Dec. 3rd, 2007 01:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rubberbuttonTitle: Method
Fandom/Pairing: Due South, one-sided Fraser/Kowalski
Words: 500
Rating: I say ‘fuck’ a lot—flag it, I dare ya
Summary: just messing around with a metaphor that's already been done to death
Fandom/Pairing: Due South, one-sided Fraser/Kowalski
Words: 500
Rating: I say ‘fuck’ a lot—flag it, I dare ya
Summary: just messing around with a metaphor that's already been done to death
In ninth grade Ray had tried out for the school’s production of Camelot because Stella had developed a thing for Richard Harris. There wasn’t an actual stage to stand on; it was just the gym and it smelled like sweat, old equipment and the rank fear of countless nerds. Standing there with a dog-eared script, trying to make out the fine print swimming across the page and keep his voice from breaking, he managed to give one of the worst cold readings in the history of the world. He wasn’t even sure the words coming out of his mouth were English. And from his expression, neither was Mr. Lander, who taught Social Studies.
Ray’s stage career ended before it ever began.
Even in going undercover as Vecchio, he’d never had to stretch his acting chops. The posting required a warm body, not fucking Shakespeare. He didn’t even look like Vecchio.
It wasn’t until Benton Fraser walked onto the stage that Ray Kowalski learned that not only could he act, but that he was a master. He’d like to thank the Academy, because this was a performance of a lifetime.
Some parts of the character were obvious, cliché even. He extended ostentatious date invitations to every woman with connections to the station. Most of them, hearing the tinny notes where he’d practiced a line too often, declined. The few who agreed, he took out and showed a mediocre time. There were never second dates.
The hardest part of keeping his character was the forced moments of intimacy—hunkering down in the car to avoid detection, taking shelter in various closets, alleys and ditches, riding in a goddamn submarine, his knees splayed and his calves cramping. He couldn’t breathe Fraser’s scent in too deeply, press his shoulder to Fraser’s, couldn’t let his forehead drop forward to rest against Fraser’s neck, without risking giving himself away.
He kept waiting for it to get easier, for the day he’d wake and he wouldn’t long to brush the backs of his fingers along Fraser’s temple. The effort of fighting each temptation, hundreds each and every day, took it out of him. Made him edgy and irritable, liable to snap at the least little thing. He added aggression as another facet of the character. It helped a little. It was an outlet of sorts, allowing him to start fights when he wanted to taste the corner of Fraser’s mouth, land punches instead of kisses.
Sometimes, Fraser even fought back and that was best of all. Like a John Mellencamp song, it hurt so good. To see Fraser flushed, breathing hard, his hair mussed—all because of Ray. But then Ray’d see the hurt in Fraser’s eyes and that tore him up inside. But that was good, too, in its way. Gave him the reason he needed to make it up to Fraser.
What was his motivation?
“Of course I forgive you, Ray. You’re my best friend.”
Oh, yeah. That.
Maybe it wasn’t the part he wanted, but he was so fucking thankful he’d been cast. And he’d play the part until the curtain came crashing down.
Ray’s stage career ended before it ever began.
Even in going undercover as Vecchio, he’d never had to stretch his acting chops. The posting required a warm body, not fucking Shakespeare. He didn’t even look like Vecchio.
It wasn’t until Benton Fraser walked onto the stage that Ray Kowalski learned that not only could he act, but that he was a master. He’d like to thank the Academy, because this was a performance of a lifetime.
Some parts of the character were obvious, cliché even. He extended ostentatious date invitations to every woman with connections to the station. Most of them, hearing the tinny notes where he’d practiced a line too often, declined. The few who agreed, he took out and showed a mediocre time. There were never second dates.
The hardest part of keeping his character was the forced moments of intimacy—hunkering down in the car to avoid detection, taking shelter in various closets, alleys and ditches, riding in a goddamn submarine, his knees splayed and his calves cramping. He couldn’t breathe Fraser’s scent in too deeply, press his shoulder to Fraser’s, couldn’t let his forehead drop forward to rest against Fraser’s neck, without risking giving himself away.
He kept waiting for it to get easier, for the day he’d wake and he wouldn’t long to brush the backs of his fingers along Fraser’s temple. The effort of fighting each temptation, hundreds each and every day, took it out of him. Made him edgy and irritable, liable to snap at the least little thing. He added aggression as another facet of the character. It helped a little. It was an outlet of sorts, allowing him to start fights when he wanted to taste the corner of Fraser’s mouth, land punches instead of kisses.
Sometimes, Fraser even fought back and that was best of all. Like a John Mellencamp song, it hurt so good. To see Fraser flushed, breathing hard, his hair mussed—all because of Ray. But then Ray’d see the hurt in Fraser’s eyes and that tore him up inside. But that was good, too, in its way. Gave him the reason he needed to make it up to Fraser.
What was his motivation?
“Of course I forgive you, Ray. You’re my best friend.”
Oh, yeah. That.
Maybe it wasn’t the part he wanted, but he was so fucking thankful he’d been cast. And he’d play the part until the curtain came crashing down.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-12 04:46 am (UTC)Aww, poor Ray :-( I can totally sympathize with him b/c I can hardly bear it when Fraser has mussed hair either.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-12-12 01:26 pm (UTC)It's not a race! :)
Aww, poor Ray :-( I can totally sympathize with him b/c I can hardly bear it when Fraser has mussed hair either.
Oh, man, mussed!Fraser... Ray has more willpower than I do. *g*