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ds_flashfictionTitle: Thank you
Pairing: Gen, or imaginary RayK/Fraser
Spoilers: Post-CotW, but nothing important
Rating: G
Just a short snippet I wrote when I started fiddling with grammar.
At the present moment, standing in the kitchen of the Vecchio home, two little kids clinging to his ankles, another tugging at his elbow, and two more clamoring from the table, Ray Kowalski had never been so grateful to Stella in all his life. He never wanted kids. Nuh-uh. No way. Not in a million years.
If he craned his head far enough (turning was impossible), he could see Fraser standing in the hall, talking to Francesca, but would either of them come help him? Nooo. Let Ray deal with the kids (monsters, more like it). Ray was the one who was so good with kids.
Presently, though, he’d rather beat them senseless with the wooden spoon he had in one hand.
“I wanna lick it! It’s my turn!” A chubby hand waved vaguely in his direction, groping for the spoon, sticky with cookie dough.
“Noooo! Me! I wanna!” The steady whine of Frannie’s youngest had a certain lilt, going up and down as she bounced -- directly on Ray’s foot.
“Carlo, ‘Lita --“ Ray tried to interject, but he was interrupted by a thin wail as Ramona reached across Ray to punch Carlo, nearly swinging Ray around. “Woah! Woah! Time out!” He tried to cross his hands in the classic ‘T’ gesture, but he couldn’t raise his elbow far enough, with Ramona hanging on it. The chatter just increased, all of the kids mobbing him, wrestling each other for the last of the cookie dough, Ray trying to curl around the bowl and spoon, like a quarterback with a football. It wasn’t working, though, and Ray would have been kicking heads by now if these had been suspects, and not six-year-olds.
“All right! That’s it!” Ray pulled away at last, clutching the bowl full of dough. He stumbled back, and Dief sent him a questioning look from his comfortable position on the rug.
“I get it!”
“No, I get it!”
“Me, me!” They surged forward again.
“Nobody move!” Ray barked, but the writhing mess of small children seemed to be an unstoppable force of nature. Ray thanked Stella again. He looked at Dief, who seemed disinclined to help. “Look, nobody move, or the dog gets it!”
The force of nature stopped. Maria still had ‘Lita by the hair, and someone gave a large sniffle, but otherwise they stood stock still. Dief sat up quickly, looking eager. Ray scowled at him.
“Some help you are.” Dief ignored him, eyes fixed on the bowl.
“Ray?” At Fraser’s voice, Ray turned. Fraser was leaning in the doorway, his hat in his hands -- what, time to go already? Wouldn’t be soon enough for Ray.
“Hey, now you show up. I coulda used your help a minute ago, partner.”
Fraser looked around the kitchen, the raised an eyebrow at Ray. “What for, Ray? You seem to have everything under control.”
Ray risked a glance at the kids. They were all standing arm’s length away from each other, no sign of fighting or teary eyes in the bunch. Though their eyes were also all focused on the bowl of cookie dough. Ray glared at them, but edged towards the counter, where he set down the bowl and spoon. He backed away, and their eyes tracked back to him. “They’re bloodthirsty monsters, I’m telling you, Fraser.”
Fraser just nodded, and put a hand on his elbow. His face had that ‘humor the American’ look on it. “Really, Ray, I’m sure you’re just exaggerating.”
They headed out into the hall, Ray continually throwing glances over his shoulder. Diefenbaker followed reluctantly, also looking back at the kitchen, where the volume had suddenly risen again. “I swear to you, I’m not, Fraser. C’mon, let’s just go find some murderer, or some guy who’s stealing pension checks from little old ladies. Those I think I can deal with.”
“Of course, Ray.” Fraser’s hand stayed reassuringly on his elbow.
“Or Canada. We could go back to Canada, Fraser. They don’t have kids there, do they?”
“Of course they have children in Canada, Ray. It would be a terrible burden for the Bureau of Immigrations if --“
“Yeah, but they’d be Canadian kids, not -- those things.” Ray waved a hand back at the kitchen.
“Of course, Ray,” Fraser said, in his ‘I’m disagreeing with you by agreeing with you’ voice. “Let’s just go say goodbye to Francesca. You have batter on your shirt.”
Ray wiped ineffectually at the dough on his shirt, internally resolving to write a nice thank you letter to Stella. Maybe one of those tasteful, engraved ones. She’d like that. And it’d be polite, so maybe Fraser would actually get around to leaving. Not that he didn't like Frannie, but...
From the direction of the kitchen, there was a crashing noise. Ray quickened his pace, and didn’t look back.
Pairing: Gen, or imaginary RayK/Fraser
Spoilers: Post-CotW, but nothing important
Rating: G
Just a short snippet I wrote when I started fiddling with grammar.
At the present moment, standing in the kitchen of the Vecchio home, two little kids clinging to his ankles, another tugging at his elbow, and two more clamoring from the table, Ray Kowalski had never been so grateful to Stella in all his life. He never wanted kids. Nuh-uh. No way. Not in a million years.
If he craned his head far enough (turning was impossible), he could see Fraser standing in the hall, talking to Francesca, but would either of them come help him? Nooo. Let Ray deal with the kids (monsters, more like it). Ray was the one who was so good with kids.
Presently, though, he’d rather beat them senseless with the wooden spoon he had in one hand.
“I wanna lick it! It’s my turn!” A chubby hand waved vaguely in his direction, groping for the spoon, sticky with cookie dough.
“Noooo! Me! I wanna!” The steady whine of Frannie’s youngest had a certain lilt, going up and down as she bounced -- directly on Ray’s foot.
“Carlo, ‘Lita --“ Ray tried to interject, but he was interrupted by a thin wail as Ramona reached across Ray to punch Carlo, nearly swinging Ray around. “Woah! Woah! Time out!” He tried to cross his hands in the classic ‘T’ gesture, but he couldn’t raise his elbow far enough, with Ramona hanging on it. The chatter just increased, all of the kids mobbing him, wrestling each other for the last of the cookie dough, Ray trying to curl around the bowl and spoon, like a quarterback with a football. It wasn’t working, though, and Ray would have been kicking heads by now if these had been suspects, and not six-year-olds.
“All right! That’s it!” Ray pulled away at last, clutching the bowl full of dough. He stumbled back, and Dief sent him a questioning look from his comfortable position on the rug.
“I get it!”
“No, I get it!”
“Me, me!” They surged forward again.
“Nobody move!” Ray barked, but the writhing mess of small children seemed to be an unstoppable force of nature. Ray thanked Stella again. He looked at Dief, who seemed disinclined to help. “Look, nobody move, or the dog gets it!”
The force of nature stopped. Maria still had ‘Lita by the hair, and someone gave a large sniffle, but otherwise they stood stock still. Dief sat up quickly, looking eager. Ray scowled at him.
“Some help you are.” Dief ignored him, eyes fixed on the bowl.
“Ray?” At Fraser’s voice, Ray turned. Fraser was leaning in the doorway, his hat in his hands -- what, time to go already? Wouldn’t be soon enough for Ray.
“Hey, now you show up. I coulda used your help a minute ago, partner.”
Fraser looked around the kitchen, the raised an eyebrow at Ray. “What for, Ray? You seem to have everything under control.”
Ray risked a glance at the kids. They were all standing arm’s length away from each other, no sign of fighting or teary eyes in the bunch. Though their eyes were also all focused on the bowl of cookie dough. Ray glared at them, but edged towards the counter, where he set down the bowl and spoon. He backed away, and their eyes tracked back to him. “They’re bloodthirsty monsters, I’m telling you, Fraser.”
Fraser just nodded, and put a hand on his elbow. His face had that ‘humor the American’ look on it. “Really, Ray, I’m sure you’re just exaggerating.”
They headed out into the hall, Ray continually throwing glances over his shoulder. Diefenbaker followed reluctantly, also looking back at the kitchen, where the volume had suddenly risen again. “I swear to you, I’m not, Fraser. C’mon, let’s just go find some murderer, or some guy who’s stealing pension checks from little old ladies. Those I think I can deal with.”
“Of course, Ray.” Fraser’s hand stayed reassuringly on his elbow.
“Or Canada. We could go back to Canada, Fraser. They don’t have kids there, do they?”
“Of course they have children in Canada, Ray. It would be a terrible burden for the Bureau of Immigrations if --“
“Yeah, but they’d be Canadian kids, not -- those things.” Ray waved a hand back at the kitchen.
“Of course, Ray,” Fraser said, in his ‘I’m disagreeing with you by agreeing with you’ voice. “Let’s just go say goodbye to Francesca. You have batter on your shirt.”
Ray wiped ineffectually at the dough on his shirt, internally resolving to write a nice thank you letter to Stella. Maybe one of those tasteful, engraved ones. She’d like that. And it’d be polite, so maybe Fraser would actually get around to leaving. Not that he didn't like Frannie, but...
From the direction of the kitchen, there was a crashing noise. Ray quickened his pace, and didn’t look back.
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Date: 2005-10-20 01:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 03:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 03:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 02:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 03:59 am (UTC)(icon love)
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Date: 2005-10-20 07:11 pm (UTC)Haven is mercy full that the Mountie Magic works also with little cookie dough searching daemons.
*smiles broadly*
That was fun! Thanks for sharing. ^^
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Date: 2005-10-21 03:59 am (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2005-10-20 10:33 pm (UTC)Mwaha. I love dropping childre on boys. It ineviatbly generates adorableness. *is mushy*
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Date: 2005-10-21 04:00 am (UTC)