Baresark, Potluck
Feb. 12th, 2006 10:23 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rec50My table
Claim: due South, Fraser/Kowalski
Title: Baresark
Author: Laura Jacquez Valentine, on LJ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jacquez
Characters: Fraser, Ray, Stella, etc.
Prompt: 20. Fight
Rating: PG
Length: medium
Brief summary: I really am kind of in love with the absolutely perfect Ray voice and tone that is set in this piece. It starts with Ray realizing that he likes when Fraser loses it when he gets angry. I'm not even really sure if this is about something per se, it's more of a character study, and how Ray and Fraser come together despite their own pasts and idiosyncrasies, and getting underneath the defenses, literally and figuratively. I think that Laura's writing is just superb. Not one word wasted.
And I thought, what the hell is wrong with him that he goes for a shark? He's a freak. Although I was the one ran off to Mexico with a girl I arrested, so what do I know.
I got him back to my place and onto the fold-out, which I bought just after Stella and I split, before I got around to getting a bed. I got him hangers for his uniform and then I went to bed myself.
Couldn't sleep at first, so I turned on the radio and danced a bit. Not much room in my bedroom, but enough. Part of what I like about this place. Some DJ's on a swing kick tonight, and I go with that, triple swing right now, moving with it.
Fraser being out on the fold-out reminded me of the times Stella and me would fight and she'd go sleep on the couch, only she wouldn't sleep, she'd cry. Same kind of thing with this, me not supporting my partner, him getting hurt. Yeah, he's a son of a bitch and he's gonna get me killed someday, but even so. I gotta get him to quit obsessing. He thinks it protects him but it doesn't.
We're idiots, him for thinking the world should go the way he likes it and me for thinking I can get under his armor and make him see it's stupid.
I think about those guys working him over, and it makes me mad. Mad at him for being such a jerk, mad at them for hurting my friend, mad at me for not being there, mad at Frannie for hitting on him when he was too hurt to stop her, and then I'm right back at being mad at him for hurting Frannie, which is dumb. Yeah, who's obsessing now, Detective?
I kept dancing until I got it out of my system and crashed sometime around midnight.
Link to the story: Baresark
Claim: due South, Fraser/Kowalski
Title: Potluck
Author: Resonant, on LJresonant8
Characters: Fraser, Ray
Prompt: 42. Holiday
Rating: G
Length: short
Brief summary: This is a tiny little fic, where Ray and Fraser spend a holiday together in the Consulate kitchen. There's not much to say about the plot because this fic is so short, so you can discover it quickly yourself. I love Resonant's writing and how much she did with this. And I especially love the idea of Fraser and Ray, being cops, and eating a frittata in the Consulate kitchen together in the middle of the night, when normal people are asleep.
He looked up, ready to say something about how you hung around with freaks long enough and it was no fun to be with the normal people, but Fraser had his head in one of the cabinets and was making unhappy noises. It was really kind of strange to see him -- or the back half of him, anyway -- in a suit. Though Ray'd already known he cleaned up nice.
"I was sure that there was a skillet of some sort," Fraser said at last, closing all the top cabinet doors and starting on the bottom cabinets. The Consulate had a schmancy kitchen like on a cooking show, but most of the shelves were usually empty. "Perhaps Turnbull has borrowed it again. I suppose we'll have to make do." And he put a cheap metal pie pan on the stove and turned on the gas.
It went in looking like an omelet and came out looking like a pie, and then Fraser started breaking up cheese cubes on top of it with his hands, and even that was like watching a cooking show. "What is that, anyway?" Ray said.
"I don't think it really has a name. I suppose it's a makeshift frittata of some description." Fraser stuck it in one of the little ovens on either side of the big oven.
"And what do you call this meal? Where you didn't get any dinner and you're eating a -- frittata -- at four o'clock in the morning? Deckfast? Brinner?" Fraser smiled, so he kept going. "Cop meal, for sure. Grab what you can find any time you got a couple minutes standing still."
It wasn't bad, whatever it was. A lot more like a real meal than scrambled eggs would have been. Good company, Fraser telling some sort of tale about eating ptarmigan eggs, even though Ray was pretty sure that every animal that started with that p-tuh sound was extinct. It was good to be in here eating -- frittata -- instead of out there making more work for the patrol crew or back home sleeping the sleep of the soused, with an aching head waiting for him in the morning.
Link to the story: Potluck
Claim: due South, Fraser/Kowalski
Title: Baresark
Author: Laura Jacquez Valentine, on LJ
jacquezCharacters: Fraser, Ray, Stella, etc.
Prompt: 20. Fight
Rating: PG
Length: medium
Brief summary: I really am kind of in love with the absolutely perfect Ray voice and tone that is set in this piece. It starts with Ray realizing that he likes when Fraser loses it when he gets angry. I'm not even really sure if this is about something per se, it's more of a character study, and how Ray and Fraser come together despite their own pasts and idiosyncrasies, and getting underneath the defenses, literally and figuratively. I think that Laura's writing is just superb. Not one word wasted.
And I thought, what the hell is wrong with him that he goes for a shark? He's a freak. Although I was the one ran off to Mexico with a girl I arrested, so what do I know.
I got him back to my place and onto the fold-out, which I bought just after Stella and I split, before I got around to getting a bed. I got him hangers for his uniform and then I went to bed myself.
Couldn't sleep at first, so I turned on the radio and danced a bit. Not much room in my bedroom, but enough. Part of what I like about this place. Some DJ's on a swing kick tonight, and I go with that, triple swing right now, moving with it.
Fraser being out on the fold-out reminded me of the times Stella and me would fight and she'd go sleep on the couch, only she wouldn't sleep, she'd cry. Same kind of thing with this, me not supporting my partner, him getting hurt. Yeah, he's a son of a bitch and he's gonna get me killed someday, but even so. I gotta get him to quit obsessing. He thinks it protects him but it doesn't.
We're idiots, him for thinking the world should go the way he likes it and me for thinking I can get under his armor and make him see it's stupid.
I think about those guys working him over, and it makes me mad. Mad at him for being such a jerk, mad at them for hurting my friend, mad at me for not being there, mad at Frannie for hitting on him when he was too hurt to stop her, and then I'm right back at being mad at him for hurting Frannie, which is dumb. Yeah, who's obsessing now, Detective?
I kept dancing until I got it out of my system and crashed sometime around midnight.
Link to the story: Baresark
Claim: due South, Fraser/Kowalski
Title: Potluck
Author: Resonant, on LJ
resonant8Characters: Fraser, Ray
Prompt: 42. Holiday
Rating: G
Length: short
Brief summary: This is a tiny little fic, where Ray and Fraser spend a holiday together in the Consulate kitchen. There's not much to say about the plot because this fic is so short, so you can discover it quickly yourself. I love Resonant's writing and how much she did with this. And I especially love the idea of Fraser and Ray, being cops, and eating a frittata in the Consulate kitchen together in the middle of the night, when normal people are asleep.
He looked up, ready to say something about how you hung around with freaks long enough and it was no fun to be with the normal people, but Fraser had his head in one of the cabinets and was making unhappy noises. It was really kind of strange to see him -- or the back half of him, anyway -- in a suit. Though Ray'd already known he cleaned up nice.
"I was sure that there was a skillet of some sort," Fraser said at last, closing all the top cabinet doors and starting on the bottom cabinets. The Consulate had a schmancy kitchen like on a cooking show, but most of the shelves were usually empty. "Perhaps Turnbull has borrowed it again. I suppose we'll have to make do." And he put a cheap metal pie pan on the stove and turned on the gas.
It went in looking like an omelet and came out looking like a pie, and then Fraser started breaking up cheese cubes on top of it with his hands, and even that was like watching a cooking show. "What is that, anyway?" Ray said.
"I don't think it really has a name. I suppose it's a makeshift frittata of some description." Fraser stuck it in one of the little ovens on either side of the big oven.
"And what do you call this meal? Where you didn't get any dinner and you're eating a -- frittata -- at four o'clock in the morning? Deckfast? Brinner?" Fraser smiled, so he kept going. "Cop meal, for sure. Grab what you can find any time you got a couple minutes standing still."
It wasn't bad, whatever it was. A lot more like a real meal than scrambled eggs would have been. Good company, Fraser telling some sort of tale about eating ptarmigan eggs, even though Ray was pretty sure that every animal that started with that p-tuh sound was extinct. It was good to be in here eating -- frittata -- instead of out there making more work for the patrol crew or back home sleeping the sleep of the soused, with an aching head waiting for him in the morning.
Link to the story: Potluck
