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rec502006-02-15 07:45 pm
justbreathe80.livejournal.com) wrote in rec502006-02-15 07:45 pm
Entry tags:
I love you without knowing how, The Contents of a Small Box Stored in a Large Trunk in a Yukon Cabin
My table
Claim: due South, Fraser/Kowalski
Title: I love you without knowing how
Author: china shop, on LJ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
china_shop
Characters: Fraser, Ray
Prompt: 38. Kiss
Rating: PG-13
Length: medium
Brief summary: China shop is one of my very favorite dS writers. This is a really lovely fic, among her many. Fraser and Ray are in Canada together, and Ray is frustrated because he doesn't have any of his own money to buy Fraser a birthday present. Fraser asks for kisses, and Ray delivers, along with a host of other imaginary gifts. There is so much Fraser wants to say that he doesn't have language for, it's almost heartbreaking. Gorgeous and abolutely true to character, for both Fraser and Ray.
You’ve been married. You understand the rhythm of relationships, the way sex can blend into the everyday. You almost take it for granted, in a way that I envy. Me, I’m constantly taken by surprise by your presence, your desire, the tight-rope tension you bring to every conversation, every touch. It’s invigorating and exhausting; it delights and unnerves. I miss being alone, sometimes. Miss the selfishness of solitude. Miss how, without interruption, my thoughts would take me unexpected places. And yet, I have everything I want now: the Territories, you, my work. I’d have it no other way.
It’s merely a matter of adjustment. An old Inuit woman once told me that every change, no matter how beneficial, has a cost: the move from igloo to houses, for example, has made families less self-sufficient. Now they’re at the mercy of banks and landlords. Houses are far more practical, of course, and light and electric heating is appreciated. Few would dispute that the change is for the better. But there is always nostalgia, the loss of custom and skill.
I hope I’m expressing myself clearly. I hope you know I’ve got no regrets. I hope you know I love you.
I should say it. The words hang in the air, and I’m so certain that you know that to speak them seems clumsy and redundant. And yet, as with a formal gift-giving, I think they carry weight for you. They mean something beyond themselves.
I carry them like a gift I don’t know how to give you.
Link to the story: I love you without knowing how
Claim: due South, Fraser/Kowalski
Title: The Contents of a Small Box Stored in a Large Trunk in a Yukon Cabin
Author: pearl_o, on LJpearl_o
Characters: Fraser, Ray
Prompt: 40. Confession
Rating: G
Length: medium
Brief summary: I confess a weakness for Ray-in-Chicago-Fraser-in-Canada-post-COTW-letter-writing fic. There are a bunch of fics that meet those criteria in the fandom. This is definitely one of the standouts. It's told completely in letters. Our boys are having trouble saying what they really mean and communicating with each other, because neither of them is saying what they really want to say...until the end. Pearl is an excellent writer, I love pretty much everything she's ever written.
Fraser, I'm not good at this sort of thing, at letters and stuff. I don't know what to say. To write, I mean.
Chicago is Chicago. It's the same it always was. Except for you guys being gone, I guess. Work is work, and I'm ... me.
I don't know if you expected this to be one of those dear diary things where I tell you everything I do in my day, but I'm not going to do that, because that's stupid. There's nothing to tell anyway.
I read your letter a couple of times, but I still don't get it. You write like it's in code or something.
Dief I understand. Dief says what he means. Maybe you should take a cue from him.
You write stuff down, and I know you're saying something else, but I don't know what. You tell me what Dief's saying, and I know you're thinking stuff, too and you know I have a secret but you don't ask what it is and you talk about Chicago and home, and I know you're saying something else again, and then you say you couldn't ask for anything more, but what does that mean, anyway? Nothing.
If you were here maybe I'd know what you mean, but you're not, so you gotta help me out. Just - fucking say what you wanna say, Fraser. Because otherwise I think I'll have to kick you in the head.
Tell Dief I can't mail any take-out, but I'll think of him next time I get some.
Ray
Link to the story: The Contents of a Small Box Stored in a Large Trunk in a Yukon Cabin
Claim: due South, Fraser/Kowalski
Title: I love you without knowing how
Author: china shop, on LJ
china_shopCharacters: Fraser, Ray
Prompt: 38. Kiss
Rating: PG-13
Length: medium
Brief summary: China shop is one of my very favorite dS writers. This is a really lovely fic, among her many. Fraser and Ray are in Canada together, and Ray is frustrated because he doesn't have any of his own money to buy Fraser a birthday present. Fraser asks for kisses, and Ray delivers, along with a host of other imaginary gifts. There is so much Fraser wants to say that he doesn't have language for, it's almost heartbreaking. Gorgeous and abolutely true to character, for both Fraser and Ray.
You’ve been married. You understand the rhythm of relationships, the way sex can blend into the everyday. You almost take it for granted, in a way that I envy. Me, I’m constantly taken by surprise by your presence, your desire, the tight-rope tension you bring to every conversation, every touch. It’s invigorating and exhausting; it delights and unnerves. I miss being alone, sometimes. Miss the selfishness of solitude. Miss how, without interruption, my thoughts would take me unexpected places. And yet, I have everything I want now: the Territories, you, my work. I’d have it no other way.
It’s merely a matter of adjustment. An old Inuit woman once told me that every change, no matter how beneficial, has a cost: the move from igloo to houses, for example, has made families less self-sufficient. Now they’re at the mercy of banks and landlords. Houses are far more practical, of course, and light and electric heating is appreciated. Few would dispute that the change is for the better. But there is always nostalgia, the loss of custom and skill.
I hope I’m expressing myself clearly. I hope you know I’ve got no regrets. I hope you know I love you.
I should say it. The words hang in the air, and I’m so certain that you know that to speak them seems clumsy and redundant. And yet, as with a formal gift-giving, I think they carry weight for you. They mean something beyond themselves.
I carry them like a gift I don’t know how to give you.
Link to the story: I love you without knowing how
Claim: due South, Fraser/Kowalski
Title: The Contents of a Small Box Stored in a Large Trunk in a Yukon Cabin
Author: pearl_o, on LJ
pearl_oCharacters: Fraser, Ray
Prompt: 40. Confession
Rating: G
Length: medium
Brief summary: I confess a weakness for Ray-in-Chicago-Fraser-in-Canada-post-COTW-letter-writing fic. There are a bunch of fics that meet those criteria in the fandom. This is definitely one of the standouts. It's told completely in letters. Our boys are having trouble saying what they really mean and communicating with each other, because neither of them is saying what they really want to say...until the end. Pearl is an excellent writer, I love pretty much everything she's ever written.
Fraser, I'm not good at this sort of thing, at letters and stuff. I don't know what to say. To write, I mean.
Chicago is Chicago. It's the same it always was. Except for you guys being gone, I guess. Work is work, and I'm ... me.
I don't know if you expected this to be one of those dear diary things where I tell you everything I do in my day, but I'm not going to do that, because that's stupid. There's nothing to tell anyway.
I read your letter a couple of times, but I still don't get it. You write like it's in code or something.
Dief I understand. Dief says what he means. Maybe you should take a cue from him.
You write stuff down, and I know you're saying something else, but I don't know what. You tell me what Dief's saying, and I know you're thinking stuff, too and you know I have a secret but you don't ask what it is and you talk about Chicago and home, and I know you're saying something else again, and then you say you couldn't ask for anything more, but what does that mean, anyway? Nothing.
If you were here maybe I'd know what you mean, but you're not, so you gotta help me out. Just - fucking say what you wanna say, Fraser. Because otherwise I think I'll have to kick you in the head.
Tell Dief I can't mail any take-out, but I'll think of him next time I get some.
Ray
Link to the story: The Contents of a Small Box Stored in a Large Trunk in a Yukon Cabin