hackthis_archive | Writer's Clearinghouse

1. Last week I was subjected to three and a half hours of CNN without a break. It would've been easier to just send me to hell.

2. I heart Citizen Cope. He's got that soul, political, singer/songwriter thing that makes me think of Jeff Buckley's 'The Sky is a Landfill' or Wilco's Jeff Tweedy. His voice is huskier and deeper than Jeff's, and not nearly as ethereal, but it makes you want to like, groove out. I love his song "Pablo Piccaso.' Ah, just listen!

2. Once upon a time, Lois Lane was black! You doubt me? You shouldn't.

3. Here be stills for Brokeback Mountain. Don't everybody rush the site at once now.

4. Customer Service Rep: So what seems to be the problem today?
Me: Your product is a piece of flippin' crap, but I don't suppose that's constructive enough to fix it, is it?
CSR: Uh, no, not quite.

5. I was going to write something today, but changed my mind, since I'm not inspired. I am, however, cleaning out my box of random stuff, of which there seems to be a proliferation of due South stuff that I never finished. Or cleaned up or whatever. They're not WIPs, they're more like one-offs.

Anyway here you go --

All the waiting and watching must do Fraser's nut, because he's so good and never fiddles or fidgets and then perhaps he shows up early, and Ray's running late because of a fire... Ray's walking around in just half his uniform, spiked hair flattened, sporting some old tee shirt from the fireman's baseball league, and his pants are yellow and huge, with smears, and he's wearing these enormous boots.

Fraser's standing there, trying not to shift his weight back and forth, and Dief's busy licking Ruby, who he says smells and tastes like dust. Fraser tells him it's not polite to talk about a lady... Oh, the craziness. The guys Ray works with think Fraser's a nutjob, because of the suit and the wolf and his politeness, but when Huey said that to Ray's face he clocked him.

So, yeah, Ray is all about defending Fraser's honor, but Fraser likes to defend his own honor, so Ray didn't tell Fraser about the incident. The only reason Fraser knows is because Ruby told Dief, and Dief told Fraser -- after he had urinated in Huey's boots.

Fraser gets a little distracted with scolding Dief about the marking, but Dief did it when Fraser was out with Ray -- he was defending his human's honor.

It was a pack thing.

Fraser's not moved.

Or he tries not to be moved, but then Ray comes over and is all 'What'd the mutt do?' and Fraser's all, 'Ray did you hit one of your fellow firemen' and Ray's all 'What? Me? Violent?' Fraser frowns; Ray's all sulky, but it's kinda hard for Fraser to be disapproving when, you know, here's somebody attempting to look out for him.

It's very confusing. And also, it's kinda hot.

Like Fraser can totally take care of himself, but there are things that Ray can do that Fraser can't. Because He's a fireman! Obviously Fraser would try, but yeah, alpha!Fireman!Ray makes Fraser pretty hot. Hence anticipation.

What's Fraser's anticipating...hmmm. What is he anticipating... the way that Ray always seems to ease into his personal space until Fraser has no personal space to speak of and every inhalation of air carries a little whiff of burnt wood and toothpaste and shampoo.

Fraser's not thinking so much about the sex, although he's not not thinking about it either, but what Fraser likes the most about being with Ray is the way he moves with grace. The way he should be clumsy and accident-prone considering he spends his day wearing 75 lbs. of uniform and yet always seems to move as though he's dancing to music that only he can hear.

Fraser wants to hear that song.

He likes that even though Ray can be rough and coarse, he can also be impossibly gentle. That when he touches Fraser his fingers are calloused and hard, but his touches are light.

Fraser's anticipation isn't for the end result, but for the journey. He likes catching Ray watching him, he doesn't even mind flushing, even though it embarasses him. He likes that Ray likes him being flustered even though he could do without it.

Fraser to lick things; Ray knows this, but he draws the line at Fraser licking his glasses. Why couldn't Fraser have licked something helpful, like a popsicle or snow, or hell, him? It's not polite to snatch things, Ray learned that in elementary school, but that's just -- that's gross.

"Fraser. I know what you did, but please tell me you just didn't do what I think you just did to my glasses."

"It's only a little saliva, Ray, and I did it in order to--"

Ray held his glasses between gloved fingers with disgust. "I do not care why you did what you did, just don't do it again."

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow, but Ray wasn't letting him off that easily. "Ray, I think that if you would just let me explain--"

"You're a freak, you know that? I mean here we are, trapped out east of Bumblefuck and you just need something to lick so bad that you lick my glasses? Fraser, that's not buddies."

"Ray, the moisture was simply to prevent the lenses from fogging --"

Fraser was talking, but Ray wasn't listening, because his glasses had Fraser!spit on'em and that was just not cool at all. What had Ray ever done to Fraser ot cause that. He'd been his partner; he'd come to look for Franklin's frickin hand. He's eaten pemmican and oats and all kinds of healthy stuff, and this was the thanks he got? "If you were so interested in lickin' something you coulda licked me. I wouldn't've minded that, but you licked my glasses, Fraser, and I gotta put those on and now -- now you didn't hear me say any of that."

Fraser blinked, and then he licked his bottom lip. And Ray swallowed.

Well, he'd asked for it.

There are two kinds of love as far as he can tell -- Epic Love and The Other Kind.

He knows what 'Epic Love' is. Everybody knows what Epic Love is. It's the kind of love that fights dragons and defeats evil stepmothers and never has stains on its tie at ritzy dinners.

Epic Love is the kind of love that childhood sweethearts share when they get married and have children, growing old and living out the rest of their days together, always acting like newlyweds.

Epic Love is... epic.

It's in fairytales and legends and gets those columns in the paper about couples who've been together since time began. Or since before TV was invented at least.

It's about swordfights and damsels in distress. It's about being rescued and till death do us part, and you better never look at anybody else or I'll kick you in the head.

Yeah, Epic Love is pretty violent.

It's stubborn and devoted and blind to the rest of the world.

Epic Love totally doesn't care what side of the tracks you're from.

Epic Love is just -- epic.

It's the sort of thing that people tell stories about. They write loud punk songs and commit suicide and lose their minds in alcohol and sex and work and going undercover to work with some random guy.

Epic Love is an epic pain.

Ray thinks that this isn't that kind of love.

This is The Other Kind of love.

The kind that's not loud and brash and partying into the wee hours of the night. This is the kind of love that's home by curfew, and makes sure not to track snow inside the cabin. This is the kind of love that spends six hours hunting and skinning and making rabbit stew instead of blowing a whole week's paycheck on a fancy dinner.

It's the kind of love that makes you trek 1000 miles north to be with someone instead of acting brainless and sulking for months on end.

This Other Kind of Love is much quieter.

It knows its place.

It doesn't have to shout and wave for attention; it just is. It's very self-assured.

It's actually really cocky.

Kinda like Ray.

And okay, this Other Kind of love that Ray feels for Fraser isn't nearly as shiny and new as Ray's Epic Love was for Stella, but he thinks it suits him just fine.

-fin-