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ds_flashfiction2006-01-18 05:50 pm
mondschein1.livejournal.com) wrote in ds_flashfiction2006-01-18 05:50 pm
Entry tags:
Vecchio Challenge by Giulietta (2)
Um. I don't know exactly how well this will work, because I sort of wrote it on a whim and it's weirdly short and I lack self-esteem but I am going to stop babbling anxiously now! Really!
Vecchio/Angie, reference to Vecchio/Irene, 847 words.
[Disclaimer: Nobody here's mine. If you sue me, I will hide in a corner and cry like a small baby.]
Mediocrity
There's crowds of teary Italians to the left, a babbling priest to the right -- and at centerfield is Angie, looking nothing like she normally does. Ray's pretty sure his ma picked this dress out for her, because Angie hates lace, and she's got something against white lace in particular. And somebody's gotten her to wear her hair loose -- probably Maria -- so he can see the dark outline under the veil, falling down over her shoulders and around her face in a way it usually doesn't. Her mouth's all red with that lipstick she uses something like once every three months -- the one that tastes like wax -- so he can see her biting her bright lower lip. Her hands are hanging at her sides, like she doesn't know what else to do with them; Angie's never been good with big family gatherings, which is going to be a problem someday soon.
So they're getting married. And all Ray can think about is how Angie's not Irene.
All right, maybe there was a thought or two there about how he wishes he could hear what the priest's saying, because it's probably important; how if Angie knew where his head's at right now, she'd probably have a fit; how one of his shoes is tied tighter than the other one. But mostly he's thinking about Irene, just like he's been thinking about her ever since he proposed to Angie, even though he knows he shouldn't be. He's not getting married to Irene, and he's not going to get married to Irene -- he knows that. And he knows that it's not even just because Irene married whatsisname, or because her dad would never've let her marry him.
See, there's this thing called reality, and Ray's been trying to get cozy with it since he was sixteen. And reality, it says that him and Irene can't get married, because she was just too good. Irene, she was perfect; aside from her dancing and her screwed up family, it was like -- like she was put on this earth to be with him. Like maybe there was a God someplace up there, and He'd decided to finally cut Ray a break and give him something nice for his trouble. She was like all those crappy songs he used to play for her on the radio in his old car, out behind the school at night. 'Course, he didn't think the songs were crappy back then -- ah, hell, he wouldn't know what to do with a metaphor if it bit him on the ass. The point is, there wasn't a single thing wrong with her. Even the stuff that was wrong was right, somehow, even though that never made much sense.
But the reality is that there's something wrong with everybody. You meet somebody new, there's bound to be something about them you just can't stand, even though you don't know it yet. And if you don't know it yet, it just means you'll have to find out later, which can get very very messy. That's not the kind of thing you want to have with your wife -- so the way Ray sees it, it's a good thing that Irene married somebody else. He didn't know Irene well enough to marry her, or even know if he wanted to marry her -- which sounds off, because he's known her since they were kids. But if she was that perfect, she had to have been hiding something. That's just the way the world works.
Now Angie, she wears all her problems right out there on her sleeves. She gets these panic attacks where she's completely certain she's too fat, and then it's all "No, no cannoli, I'm on a diet," and "I'll walk to work, it'll do me good," and "Does this look a little tight to you?" And she can't drop work for a second -- God forbid they ever figure out how to bring phones out of the house, or she'll be working every minute of every day. When she's annoyed, she gets twitchy, which makes Ray twitchy, which makes her even twitchier, until somebody starts yelling. That's not even getting into her complete and total inability to recognize a bad engine when she hears it. But that's real, that's the sort of person you're supposed to marry. You're not supposed to go looking for somebody who's got stars for eyes and pearls for teeth. No, those're the people who tell you "I will always, always love you, Ray," -- those are the people you're supposed to let leave you, because it wouldn't've worked out, anyway.
Suddenly, he realizes that Angie's twitching nervously, and Father Behan's stopped talking. Everybody's staring at him. "Oh. Sorry," he says stupidly, grinning widely at Angie. "Yeah. I do." Angie's rolling her eyes, he can tell.
It's not like he's settling for second best. This is how it's supposed to work. And as for Frannie -- well, she'll start talking to him again, someday.
--fin
Vecchio/Angie, reference to Vecchio/Irene, 847 words.
[Disclaimer: Nobody here's mine. If you sue me, I will hide in a corner and cry like a small baby.]
Mediocrity
There's crowds of teary Italians to the left, a babbling priest to the right -- and at centerfield is Angie, looking nothing like she normally does. Ray's pretty sure his ma picked this dress out for her, because Angie hates lace, and she's got something against white lace in particular. And somebody's gotten her to wear her hair loose -- probably Maria -- so he can see the dark outline under the veil, falling down over her shoulders and around her face in a way it usually doesn't. Her mouth's all red with that lipstick she uses something like once every three months -- the one that tastes like wax -- so he can see her biting her bright lower lip. Her hands are hanging at her sides, like she doesn't know what else to do with them; Angie's never been good with big family gatherings, which is going to be a problem someday soon.
So they're getting married. And all Ray can think about is how Angie's not Irene.
All right, maybe there was a thought or two there about how he wishes he could hear what the priest's saying, because it's probably important; how if Angie knew where his head's at right now, she'd probably have a fit; how one of his shoes is tied tighter than the other one. But mostly he's thinking about Irene, just like he's been thinking about her ever since he proposed to Angie, even though he knows he shouldn't be. He's not getting married to Irene, and he's not going to get married to Irene -- he knows that. And he knows that it's not even just because Irene married whatsisname, or because her dad would never've let her marry him.
See, there's this thing called reality, and Ray's been trying to get cozy with it since he was sixteen. And reality, it says that him and Irene can't get married, because she was just too good. Irene, she was perfect; aside from her dancing and her screwed up family, it was like -- like she was put on this earth to be with him. Like maybe there was a God someplace up there, and He'd decided to finally cut Ray a break and give him something nice for his trouble. She was like all those crappy songs he used to play for her on the radio in his old car, out behind the school at night. 'Course, he didn't think the songs were crappy back then -- ah, hell, he wouldn't know what to do with a metaphor if it bit him on the ass. The point is, there wasn't a single thing wrong with her. Even the stuff that was wrong was right, somehow, even though that never made much sense.
But the reality is that there's something wrong with everybody. You meet somebody new, there's bound to be something about them you just can't stand, even though you don't know it yet. And if you don't know it yet, it just means you'll have to find out later, which can get very very messy. That's not the kind of thing you want to have with your wife -- so the way Ray sees it, it's a good thing that Irene married somebody else. He didn't know Irene well enough to marry her, or even know if he wanted to marry her -- which sounds off, because he's known her since they were kids. But if she was that perfect, she had to have been hiding something. That's just the way the world works.
Now Angie, she wears all her problems right out there on her sleeves. She gets these panic attacks where she's completely certain she's too fat, and then it's all "No, no cannoli, I'm on a diet," and "I'll walk to work, it'll do me good," and "Does this look a little tight to you?" And she can't drop work for a second -- God forbid they ever figure out how to bring phones out of the house, or she'll be working every minute of every day. When she's annoyed, she gets twitchy, which makes Ray twitchy, which makes her even twitchier, until somebody starts yelling. That's not even getting into her complete and total inability to recognize a bad engine when she hears it. But that's real, that's the sort of person you're supposed to marry. You're not supposed to go looking for somebody who's got stars for eyes and pearls for teeth. No, those're the people who tell you "I will always, always love you, Ray," -- those are the people you're supposed to let leave you, because it wouldn't've worked out, anyway.
Suddenly, he realizes that Angie's twitching nervously, and Father Behan's stopped talking. Everybody's staring at him. "Oh. Sorry," he says stupidly, grinning widely at Angie. "Yeah. I do." Angie's rolling her eyes, he can tell.
It's not like he's settling for second best. This is how it's supposed to work. And as for Frannie -- well, she'll start talking to him again, someday.
--fin
no subject
I mean, there's this red light flashing on and off in my head, going ding ding ding ding ding, Fraser Victoria Fraser Victoria Fraser Victoria.
And then I read--
--and my brain is going Kowalski, Kowalski, Kowalski. 'Cause it's chatty like that.
Which is probably not what you intended but it really works for me on that level. It also works for me on the surface level--it does sing Vecchio to me. And I love some of the details--the one shoe tied tighter than the other and what else is getting tied too tightly in that moment.
Blah, blah, blah feedback. Nicely done--thanks!
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And I'm so so glad you got Vecchio from that, because although I LOVE HIM DEARLY? I have been struggling with his POV for, like, months. It HURTS, how much I lack ability to write Vecchio on a regular basis.
Thank you so much for your feedback!
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I think it's sad and complex, and makes me think about Ray in You Must Remember This where he is completely starry-eyed and hoplessly romantic, and says "That's what we need - ridiculous odds and just a speck of hope that someday we'll beat them." *rolls eyes at him* But then again, that ep was before any hint of either Irene or Angie.
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But. Yes. I guess there is a similarity between Fraser and Irene, what with both of them seeming hopelessly perfect -- not that I think Ray's considering Fraser for um, the same thing as he was Irene, *ducks swats from F/V people* but at the very least, he probably often feels like, "Dude, why am I partnered up with the Mountie who knows how to do EVERYTHING RIGHT?"
So glad you liked it!
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Thank you for sharing.
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Glad you liked!
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I liked this very much, Ray as both romantic and realist. Very nice.
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HOORAY FOR CANON HET!
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(And your doctor does, in fact, kick ass.)
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SEE I TOLD YOU NOT TO FORGET VECCHIO/IRENE.
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You got absolutely into Ray's head and his voice was pretty damn perfect. I adored the little details, they made this seem so real I could see it happening as I read.
Also the paralells between RayV/Irene and RayK/Stella made me squee. (Hopefully you meant to do that and my brain isn't just so RayK centric it defaults everything to him *g*)
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YAY I DID RAYV VOICE SATISFACTORILY! *triumphant fists*
RayV/Irene and RayK/Stella are pretty similar in my head, since RayK kind of idolizes Stella. AND you're RayK centric, Tora dear.
(Your Joe is scaring me. *hides from him*