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ds_flashfictionIt's the Thought That Counts
[Fraser/RayK, G, 693 words]
64. F/K "Fraser, pass the puck!"
Ray could hear the raccoon rummaging in the garbage again. He grabbed the closest weapon he could find - an old hockey stick of Fraser's - and headed for the door. As soon as he reached it, though, it opened and Fraser walked in, a large box in his arms. "Hey, what's that?" Ray asked, setting the hockey stick down and forgetting about the raccoon.
Fraser set the box on the kitchen table and looked down at the address label as he took off his gloves. "It appears to be a package from the Vecchios." He looked up and smiled at Ray. "Christmas gifts, I would suspect."
"Ooh, lemme at 'em," Ray said, already ripping the tape off and opening the box. There were several wrapped presents within, all addressed to 'Ray and Fraser', except for one tin with a card that read, 'For Ray only.' "Hey, look," he said, shaking the tin. There was a loud rattling noise from within and he frowned. "I wonder what this is," he said as he opened the tin.
Fraser grabbed the card, reading it aloud. "'To Ray, may these bring you as much happiness as you've brought me. Love, Frannie.' How thoughtful of her."
"Thoughtful?" Ray said, sneering just a little. He held up the tin, tilting it slightly so that Fraser could see the contents. He couldn't be sure, but it appeared to be filled with...charcoal briquets?
"What in the hell is this?" Ray held up the black brick, turning it around before knocking it against the table. It made a sharp, clear rapping sound, and he took another long look at it.
"Hmm," was all Fraser said before reaching over and grabbing Ray's wrist, lifting his hand up so he could sniff at the thing. Before Ray could say, "Don't lick it!", Fraser did, pulling a face immediately.
"It's hard to say, but I believe it's a brownie."
Ray stared at the thing in his hand, giving it a look like he half-expected it to jump up and spit in his eye. "Fraser, I know brownies, and this thing--" he rapped it against the table again "--this thing is no brownie. Brownies are soft and chewy. This thing could crack my teeth just by me breathing on it. It's a hockey puck, not a brownie."
"Well," Fraser said, scratching at the back of his head, "perhaps it's not a brownie. It very well could be some type of Italian dessert, although, truth be told, as familiar as I am with the various styles of Italian cuisine, I can't recall ever coming across something like this."
"That's because this is an assasination attempt, not a dessert." Fraser raised an eyebrow at that, and Ray explained. "See, those Italians, they hold a grudge, and I bet you anything Frannie is still sore about...you know." Ray waved his hand, gesturing between himself and Fraser, and Fraser's other eyebrow rose. Ray's hand-waving grew more frantic. "You know! Us. Me stealing your heart right from under her. She's gotta, wachacallit, a vendetta against me."
"Ray, really now. For one thing, you're perpetrating a stereotype. The Italian people are no more likely to hold a grudge than any other ethnic group. For another," and Fraser grabbed a hold of Ray's wrist again, this time pulling him closer. He smiled softly at Ray and said, "it's not possible to steal something that had already belonged to you."
Ray blinked at Fraser's words, then returned the smile. "Yeah, okay. Maybe Frannie's just a lousy baker," he said, leaning in for a kiss.
A loud crash from outside broke them apart, and Ray swore, bending over to pick up the hockey stick. "Fraser, pass the puck!" he said, jerking his head towards the tin.
Fraser shot him a curious look, but tossed over one of the bricks. "Ray, what are--"
Ray flashed him a grin and said, "Hey, I figure we might as well get some use out of those things. And there's a hungry raccoon out there who I'm sure would love them." He winked and walked out, shutting the door on Fraser's groan and admonishing "Ray!"
[Fraser/RayK, G, 693 words]
64. F/K "Fraser, pass the puck!"
Ray could hear the raccoon rummaging in the garbage again. He grabbed the closest weapon he could find - an old hockey stick of Fraser's - and headed for the door. As soon as he reached it, though, it opened and Fraser walked in, a large box in his arms. "Hey, what's that?" Ray asked, setting the hockey stick down and forgetting about the raccoon.
Fraser set the box on the kitchen table and looked down at the address label as he took off his gloves. "It appears to be a package from the Vecchios." He looked up and smiled at Ray. "Christmas gifts, I would suspect."
"Ooh, lemme at 'em," Ray said, already ripping the tape off and opening the box. There were several wrapped presents within, all addressed to 'Ray and Fraser', except for one tin with a card that read, 'For Ray only.' "Hey, look," he said, shaking the tin. There was a loud rattling noise from within and he frowned. "I wonder what this is," he said as he opened the tin.
Fraser grabbed the card, reading it aloud. "'To Ray, may these bring you as much happiness as you've brought me. Love, Frannie.' How thoughtful of her."
"Thoughtful?" Ray said, sneering just a little. He held up the tin, tilting it slightly so that Fraser could see the contents. He couldn't be sure, but it appeared to be filled with...charcoal briquets?
"What in the hell is this?" Ray held up the black brick, turning it around before knocking it against the table. It made a sharp, clear rapping sound, and he took another long look at it.
"Hmm," was all Fraser said before reaching over and grabbing Ray's wrist, lifting his hand up so he could sniff at the thing. Before Ray could say, "Don't lick it!", Fraser did, pulling a face immediately.
"It's hard to say, but I believe it's a brownie."
Ray stared at the thing in his hand, giving it a look like he half-expected it to jump up and spit in his eye. "Fraser, I know brownies, and this thing--" he rapped it against the table again "--this thing is no brownie. Brownies are soft and chewy. This thing could crack my teeth just by me breathing on it. It's a hockey puck, not a brownie."
"Well," Fraser said, scratching at the back of his head, "perhaps it's not a brownie. It very well could be some type of Italian dessert, although, truth be told, as familiar as I am with the various styles of Italian cuisine, I can't recall ever coming across something like this."
"That's because this is an assasination attempt, not a dessert." Fraser raised an eyebrow at that, and Ray explained. "See, those Italians, they hold a grudge, and I bet you anything Frannie is still sore about...you know." Ray waved his hand, gesturing between himself and Fraser, and Fraser's other eyebrow rose. Ray's hand-waving grew more frantic. "You know! Us. Me stealing your heart right from under her. She's gotta, wachacallit, a vendetta against me."
"Ray, really now. For one thing, you're perpetrating a stereotype. The Italian people are no more likely to hold a grudge than any other ethnic group. For another," and Fraser grabbed a hold of Ray's wrist again, this time pulling him closer. He smiled softly at Ray and said, "it's not possible to steal something that had already belonged to you."
Ray blinked at Fraser's words, then returned the smile. "Yeah, okay. Maybe Frannie's just a lousy baker," he said, leaning in for a kiss.
A loud crash from outside broke them apart, and Ray swore, bending over to pick up the hockey stick. "Fraser, pass the puck!" he said, jerking his head towards the tin.
Fraser shot him a curious look, but tossed over one of the bricks. "Ray, what are--"
Ray flashed him a grin and said, "Hey, I figure we might as well get some use out of those things. And there's a hungry raccoon out there who I'm sure would love them." He winked and walked out, shutting the door on Fraser's groan and admonishing "Ray!"
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