Curtain Fic
May. 19th, 2003 02:15 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
mamadeb.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfiction747 words
The Color of Home
"I suppose you boys are going to want curtains, too." Mrs. McGee smiled behind the counter of her general store, as her assistant, Jimmy Bright Day, boxed up the supplies Ray insisted they needed for the summer.
Fraser schooled his face to polite blankness - something he'd grown unused to during the course of the adventure. "I do not believe those will be necessary, as we have no near neighbors."
Ray, who was examining various items of cookware for rust spots, looked up. "You have curtains, Mrs. McGee?"
The woman looked at both of them over her half-moon glasses. "Constable Fraser, you are clearly setting up a home with this…interesting young man." Ray smiled at her. "Surely you know a home needs curtains to be complete?"
Fraser had no answer to that. His grandmother had always had curtains on the windows of where ever they had stayed, but his father never bothered in the cabin, and Ray Vecchio, for all his desire for proper toilet facilities, never mentioned the need, either. Not wishing to argue, though, he nodded. She turned to Ray.
"As for that - I believe we do have something. In the back, next to the sewing supplies." She walked around the counter, leaving Fraser to help her assistant in packing the canned goods, and led Ray there. He watched them as they fingered some excessively pink sheer material, and another that seemed to be covered in large flowers. In fact, each selection seemed less appropriate than the one before - he was especially appalled when Ray shook out white lace with a superfluity of ruffles.
Of course, so far as Fraser was concerned, that equaled any amount of ruffles. Ray, however, smiled and asked Mrs. McGee questions about width and curtain rods, and even held the length of frills against his own body.
"Constable? How do you want me to pack these spices?" Jimmy caught Fraser's attention away from his partner and the lace. He spent the next several minutes arranging the small bottles in the most efficient way. By the time he was finished, Ray had purchased an armful of rods and hardware, and a small packet of material, well wrapped up in brown paper.
Between the three men, they loaded the borrowed SUV, and Ray, tossing his package in the back seat next to Dief, jumped into the driver's seat. Fraser divided his attention between the landscape and Ray, who drove with more relish than Fraser would have imagined.
Two hours later, the evening sun still shining off Ray's glasses, they arrived at the cabin. Still bursting with energy, Ray unloaded the vehicle by himself while Fraser busied himself with feeding the dogs and gathering firewood to cook dinner. The tasks took longer than he'd expected, as the dogs were feeling bored and frisky and the damp weather had made good tinder hard to find.
Finally, he took his armloads and walked into the cabin. He stopped at the door. The place was both transformed and the same. The groceries had been put away neatly enough, the boxes opened and folded near the rear wall; the new cookware (when had Ray gotten them?) was on hooks on the wall and the bags of laundry were stacked near the bed. It looked almost but not quite like the cabin he'd left when he'd thought Ray Vecchio would stay his partner forever.
Except that Ray Kowalski was sitting cross-legged on the floor, golden in a beam of sunlight from the window, his lap full of a striped material. The darker stripe was color of his eyes. He was sewing at it, the needle flashing in the sunlight. He looked up when Fraser closed the door.
"Hey, Frase. Can you get dinner started? I figure I can get these curtains done before dark if I work on them steady." Fraser put his load of wood next to the stove, and walked closer to Ray, trying to stay out of his light. Ray's stitches were tiny and even, his hand describing a graceful arc with the needle.
"We really do not need them, Ray." He sat down beside him.
"Mrs. McGee's right. I want this to be our home. I want it to look like one." He bit his lip, and put the sewing down.
Fraser smiled and wrapped his arms around him. "We don't need the curtains, Ray. It's already a home - because you're here." And he kissed him before he could protest more.
The Color of Home
"I suppose you boys are going to want curtains, too." Mrs. McGee smiled behind the counter of her general store, as her assistant, Jimmy Bright Day, boxed up the supplies Ray insisted they needed for the summer.
Fraser schooled his face to polite blankness - something he'd grown unused to during the course of the adventure. "I do not believe those will be necessary, as we have no near neighbors."
Ray, who was examining various items of cookware for rust spots, looked up. "You have curtains, Mrs. McGee?"
The woman looked at both of them over her half-moon glasses. "Constable Fraser, you are clearly setting up a home with this…interesting young man." Ray smiled at her. "Surely you know a home needs curtains to be complete?"
Fraser had no answer to that. His grandmother had always had curtains on the windows of where ever they had stayed, but his father never bothered in the cabin, and Ray Vecchio, for all his desire for proper toilet facilities, never mentioned the need, either. Not wishing to argue, though, he nodded. She turned to Ray.
"As for that - I believe we do have something. In the back, next to the sewing supplies." She walked around the counter, leaving Fraser to help her assistant in packing the canned goods, and led Ray there. He watched them as they fingered some excessively pink sheer material, and another that seemed to be covered in large flowers. In fact, each selection seemed less appropriate than the one before - he was especially appalled when Ray shook out white lace with a superfluity of ruffles.
Of course, so far as Fraser was concerned, that equaled any amount of ruffles. Ray, however, smiled and asked Mrs. McGee questions about width and curtain rods, and even held the length of frills against his own body.
"Constable? How do you want me to pack these spices?" Jimmy caught Fraser's attention away from his partner and the lace. He spent the next several minutes arranging the small bottles in the most efficient way. By the time he was finished, Ray had purchased an armful of rods and hardware, and a small packet of material, well wrapped up in brown paper.
Between the three men, they loaded the borrowed SUV, and Ray, tossing his package in the back seat next to Dief, jumped into the driver's seat. Fraser divided his attention between the landscape and Ray, who drove with more relish than Fraser would have imagined.
Two hours later, the evening sun still shining off Ray's glasses, they arrived at the cabin. Still bursting with energy, Ray unloaded the vehicle by himself while Fraser busied himself with feeding the dogs and gathering firewood to cook dinner. The tasks took longer than he'd expected, as the dogs were feeling bored and frisky and the damp weather had made good tinder hard to find.
Finally, he took his armloads and walked into the cabin. He stopped at the door. The place was both transformed and the same. The groceries had been put away neatly enough, the boxes opened and folded near the rear wall; the new cookware (when had Ray gotten them?) was on hooks on the wall and the bags of laundry were stacked near the bed. It looked almost but not quite like the cabin he'd left when he'd thought Ray Vecchio would stay his partner forever.
Except that Ray Kowalski was sitting cross-legged on the floor, golden in a beam of sunlight from the window, his lap full of a striped material. The darker stripe was color of his eyes. He was sewing at it, the needle flashing in the sunlight. He looked up when Fraser closed the door.
"Hey, Frase. Can you get dinner started? I figure I can get these curtains done before dark if I work on them steady." Fraser put his load of wood next to the stove, and walked closer to Ray, trying to stay out of his light. Ray's stitches were tiny and even, his hand describing a graceful arc with the needle.
"We really do not need them, Ray." He sat down beside him.
"Mrs. McGee's right. I want this to be our home. I want it to look like one." He bit his lip, and put the sewing down.
Fraser smiled and wrapped his arms around him. "We don't need the curtains, Ray. It's already a home - because you're here." And he kissed him before he could protest more.
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no subject
Date: 2003-05-19 12:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-19 12:26 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked it.
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Date: 2003-05-19 12:38 pm (UTC)I like the picture of Ray sitting in the beam of sunlight, all golden.
I bet Fraser's glad he didn't get the lace curtains, though.
Lovely story!
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Date: 2003-05-19 12:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-20 01:00 pm (UTC)