Makeup Challenge - The Silent Treatment
Apr. 23rd, 2003 02:59 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
shayheyred.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionWheeee! This is fun!
I don't have any more time to sulk or be pissed off, because Vic Delahanty makes his move and gets out of his car calm as can be and starts across the grass towards the public restroom and the snitch leaning against the wall. Vic's hand is fiddling around inside his coat, so I drop the pointy thing I've been stabbing garbage with and set out at a jog after him. My gun's stuck inside the stupid Parks Department jacket and I swear at it, which doesn't actually make it easier to get at, but makes me feel more like myself and not like some dopey grunt poking garbage.
Over on the left Dewey's too busy being in character as a bum to notice what's going on. Have no fucking idea where Jack Huey is; last time I saw him he was somewhere over by the pond -- yeah, you got it right, a Duck Boy feeding ducks -- so he's probably too busy "communing with nature," as Fraser calls it, to --
Fraser.
Welcome back, Sulky Ray. The freakin' Mountie has me pissed off royally. Has the nerve to act like it was my fault what happened yesterday, and like an idiot I spent all morning trying to get him to stop acting like a clam and talk to me. He talks such bullshit all the time: "blah blah, Eskimo blubber," "blah blah, when Ray Vecchio and I," "blah blah blah, oh, no, you're wrong, Ray--" You'd think I'd want him to shut up. Instead it drives me up the wall when he gives me the silent treatment like this. Stella did that. I hate it.
But it's gonna take at least two of us to bring in all 6'6" and 300 lbs. of Vic Delahanty. I glance around, looking for red, and then I remember, Duh, Fraser's undercover, so I look for black and white, and yeah, there he is, surrounded by a bunch of people. I try to catch his eye, but Delahanty's closing in on the bait, and his hand is coming out of his coat. I see a glint of metal, and I still can't get my freaking gun out, and then I'm shouting "Chicago PD!" and launching myself at him.
There's a flash of light, and I hit Delahanty like the wall he is, but there's another blur, mostly white, with black, silent, so it must be Fraser, and dammit, he's still not talking, but between us we've got Vic pinned and then cuffed. I'm getting to my feet, panting hard, and my shoulder hurts from where I slammed into him, but suddenly I'm grabbed and pushed into the wall and Fraser's face, big and white, is really close. He's frowning, and his eyes are stabbing at me, like I'm -- Shit. Am I his piece of garbage?
I can't stand his silence. "Look, Fraser, I'm sorry about yesterday. My fault." I know, I know, I was pissed at him, but I want this silence over between us. "Fraser." I search his face. "Come on. Talk to me. Please!" I can't stop the pleading sound in my voice. Too tired to try.
Fraser's eyes are trying to tell me something, and they slide sideways to my arm, and I look too, and damn, I didn't even know I was hit. No wonder I feel dizzy. Then his eyes are back on my face, and they're fierce, and they're terrified, but then his mouth is smushing against mine, slick and waxy, and he's kissing me, fiercely, and like that witch in the movie, I'm melting, melting.
I hear Welsh calling. Damned if I know how I'll explain this white stuff all over my face. Don't care. Fraser's talking again, even if he's still in character, even if he's not saying a word.
Though. . .
. . .Whoever thought the gabbiest man on earth should go undercover as a mime had a sick sense of humor.
(652 words)
I don't have any more time to sulk or be pissed off, because Vic Delahanty makes his move and gets out of his car calm as can be and starts across the grass towards the public restroom and the snitch leaning against the wall. Vic's hand is fiddling around inside his coat, so I drop the pointy thing I've been stabbing garbage with and set out at a jog after him. My gun's stuck inside the stupid Parks Department jacket and I swear at it, which doesn't actually make it easier to get at, but makes me feel more like myself and not like some dopey grunt poking garbage.
Over on the left Dewey's too busy being in character as a bum to notice what's going on. Have no fucking idea where Jack Huey is; last time I saw him he was somewhere over by the pond -- yeah, you got it right, a Duck Boy feeding ducks -- so he's probably too busy "communing with nature," as Fraser calls it, to --
Fraser.
Welcome back, Sulky Ray. The freakin' Mountie has me pissed off royally. Has the nerve to act like it was my fault what happened yesterday, and like an idiot I spent all morning trying to get him to stop acting like a clam and talk to me. He talks such bullshit all the time: "blah blah, Eskimo blubber," "blah blah, when Ray Vecchio and I," "blah blah blah, oh, no, you're wrong, Ray--" You'd think I'd want him to shut up. Instead it drives me up the wall when he gives me the silent treatment like this. Stella did that. I hate it.
But it's gonna take at least two of us to bring in all 6'6" and 300 lbs. of Vic Delahanty. I glance around, looking for red, and then I remember, Duh, Fraser's undercover, so I look for black and white, and yeah, there he is, surrounded by a bunch of people. I try to catch his eye, but Delahanty's closing in on the bait, and his hand is coming out of his coat. I see a glint of metal, and I still can't get my freaking gun out, and then I'm shouting "Chicago PD!" and launching myself at him.
There's a flash of light, and I hit Delahanty like the wall he is, but there's another blur, mostly white, with black, silent, so it must be Fraser, and dammit, he's still not talking, but between us we've got Vic pinned and then cuffed. I'm getting to my feet, panting hard, and my shoulder hurts from where I slammed into him, but suddenly I'm grabbed and pushed into the wall and Fraser's face, big and white, is really close. He's frowning, and his eyes are stabbing at me, like I'm -- Shit. Am I his piece of garbage?
I can't stand his silence. "Look, Fraser, I'm sorry about yesterday. My fault." I know, I know, I was pissed at him, but I want this silence over between us. "Fraser." I search his face. "Come on. Talk to me. Please!" I can't stop the pleading sound in my voice. Too tired to try.
Fraser's eyes are trying to tell me something, and they slide sideways to my arm, and I look too, and damn, I didn't even know I was hit. No wonder I feel dizzy. Then his eyes are back on my face, and they're fierce, and they're terrified, but then his mouth is smushing against mine, slick and waxy, and he's kissing me, fiercely, and like that witch in the movie, I'm melting, melting.
I hear Welsh calling. Damned if I know how I'll explain this white stuff all over my face. Don't care. Fraser's talking again, even if he's still in character, even if he's not saying a word.
Though. . .
. . .Whoever thought the gabbiest man on earth should go undercover as a mime had a sick sense of humor.
(652 words)
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no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 12:20 pm (UTC)I like how it starts in medias res.
And I like Ray's stream-of-consciousness about all the things Fraser says that annoy him.
And the end is just fantastic. Didn't see the mime line coming at all, but it totally cracks me up. :-)
no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 12:33 pm (UTC)Shay
Oh my!
Date: 2003-04-23 12:22 pm (UTC)This was a surprise, an extremely clever and funny one!
Love this, just love it.
Re: Oh my!
Date: 2003-04-23 12:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 12:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 12:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 12:34 pm (UTC)Fun story. I had a lot of fun reading it.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 12:39 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-04-23 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 12:43 pm (UTC)For the bulk of the story I was thinking, "This is a really nice, simple making-up story" ... I'm glad I was wrong!
(wrong about being simple, obviously, not wrong about being GOOD!)
no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 12:53 pm (UTC)Oh, Angry Clown Ray *definitely* needs to meet Silent Mime Fraser!
Just choked on my ginger ale imaginining Mime!Fraser pretending to walk against the wind being generated by a furious diatribe from Angry Clown!Ray.
More crack, please.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 02:12 pm (UTC)That sure brings up a great picture, good thing I'm not drinking anything to choke on, I just spent the past two days in the hospital!
no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 12:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 01:29 pm (UTC)perfectly lovely
Date: 2003-04-23 02:29 pm (UTC)*snif* You do some fine work, Shay. Funny and smart with just a pinch of angst...
Re: perfectly lovely
Date: 2003-04-23 02:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 02:34 pm (UTC)Oh, the fun! I love it!
no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 02:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 04:00 pm (UTC)(frozen) no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 06:56 pm (UTC)Shame. Shame on you. That's terrible. Awful. And really, really well done. *g*
(frozen) no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 07:05 pm (UTC)Thanks.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-23 07:34 pm (UTC)Very nice job.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-24 07:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-24 07:31 am (UTC)Okay, I'm a convert now...
Date: 2003-04-24 03:09 am (UTC)AnnaG
Re: Okay, I'm a convert now...
Date: 2003-04-24 07:01 am (UTC)Thanks for your comments!
no subject
Date: 2003-04-24 06:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-24 07:23 am (UTC)Happy you liked it.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-24 05:47 pm (UTC)< He talks such bullshit all the time: "blah blah, Eskimo blubber," "blah blah, when Ray Vecchio and I," "blah blah blah, oh, no, you're wrong, Ray--" You'd think I'd want him to shut up. Instead it drives me up the wall when he gives me the silent treatment like this. Stella did that. I hate it.>
This sounds so much like Ray.
The way you worked in the different meanings of "makeup" was fabulous, as was the surprise ending.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-24 06:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-04-28 11:56 am (UTC)Over on the left Dewey's too busy being in character as a bum to notice what's going on
and the ending was brilliant too. Good one!
no subject
Date: 2003-04-28 04:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-14 06:25 pm (UTC)And that's my (former) professional opinion; among other things I have been a street mime. (Please don't hit me.)
Anywho, Fraser, who we know takes his undercover seriously, is wearing / should be wearing whiteface (an oil base, not pancake, a powder) with loads of cornstarch (like you might have in cupboards to make gravy with) over it. He gets *no* makeup on Ray when he kisses him whatsoever. Whiteface, worn sparingly, is also nice for a goth look. (Not Visigoth or Osteogoth, Kellie.)
Great fic! Write more!
Julia