ds_flashfiction | First Line Challenge by Bluebrocade (Reply)

Title: Five First-Line Ficlets
Author:

bluebrocade
Pairings: 4 F/K, 1 V/K
Length: ~200 words each
First Lines: Taken from five of

elementalv’s wonderful fics.

- - - one - - -

"Hush!"

"Oh, dear," said Fraser, as he watched Ray’s face turn red with rage.

"Did you just—Fraser, did your dad just hush me?"

"Ah. Well." Fraser rubbed his eyebrow.

"Fraser!" said Ray.

"Benton," said his father.

Fraser looked at his father, then at Ray, then at Dief who was standing in the doorway snickering, then back at his father. "Dad. Ray. Perhaps—ah—perhaps this isn’t the appropriate—ah—venue for this discussion?"

"Yeah!" Ray said triumphantly, "Get your dead ass outta my apartment!"

"Ah, that’s not exactly what—"

"Typical Yank. Twisting the words of others to suit your dastardly purposes. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d tricked my son into—"

"You—you—you shut the hell up before I kick you in your dead head!" yelled Ray.

Fraser, Sr. narrowed his eyes and raised his fists. "Go ahead and try it, sonny."

Ray jumped out of bed and lunged at him. Fraser watched as Ray sailed through Fraser, Sr., bounced off the wall and landed on his bare ass.

Fraser leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes, as his father’s laughter filled the bedroom. "Oh, dear."

- - - two - - -

Ray looked at the boxes stacked in their tiny living room and then at Ben, who stood there, waiting for the fight to begin.

Ray just shook his head. Crazy Mountie.

"Ray?"

"Ben."

Ben stepped towards him, then stopped. "You still think I’m being ridiculous."

"Yep."

"But Ray, if we’re ever going to afford a home—"

"Uh-uh-uh." He waved his hand in the air. "I do not want to hear it again. We’ve had this fight fifty times already. You’re still batshit insane, and there’s nothing another fight’s gonna do to change that, so you go ahead and do what you think you gotta do."

"Thank you, Ray." Ben smiled. "Your support means a lot to me."

"Don’t even! I’m not supporting you in this. I’m tolerating. See?" he gestured at himself. "This is me tolerating."

Ben frowned. "I don’t understand your objections. Supplementing our income with—"

Ray lost it. "I don’t care how small this place is, we don’t need a house bad enough for you to be selling fucking Avon door-to-door!"

- - - three - - -

They were halfway to the car before he asked, "Did anything strike you as odd back there?"

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow, cracked his neck and squeaked, "Odd, Leftenant?"

Harding stopped and threw Fraser the look.

Fraser cracked his neck again, licked his lip, then rubbed his eyebrow. Twice.

Harding crossed his arms and waited, his face impassive.

"That shade of green could certainly be considered odd. In fact, I once encountered a pick-pocket in Pelly Crossing who had the unique ability—"

Welsh narrowed his eyes.

Fraser wilted under the stern gaze of authority. "Ah—you’re perhaps referring to Detectives Kowalski and Vecchio wearing each other’s shirts? I believe...ah, that is—I don’t believe they were—ah....expecting company at that particular juncture."

- - - four - - -

"Rupert?" Though the connection wasn’t very good, Giles recognized the voice on the other end of the phone easily enough.

"Benton! To what do I owe the pleasure?" It had been nearly a year since Constable Fraser and his partner Detective Vecchio had visited Sunnydale. "I do hope you’re not calling in a professional capacity."

"Yes. Yes. I’m—I’m afraid so," replied Benton. Giles noted the anguish in his voice. "My partner—he’s—they—you have to help him."

"Tell me."

"He was—attacked. They...they turned him."

"I’m so sorry, Benton." Giles closed his eyes. He knew what was coming. Knew it was futile.

"I don’t know what to do. I have him chained in the Consulate basement, but I can’t—"

"Benton, I’m sorry. There’s nothing you can do. You can’t cure a vampire. You have to kill him. The sooner the better. It will only get more difficult with time."

There were several seconds of silence before Benton choked out a horrified "No!"

"I’m sorry to be blunt about it, but there’s no choice. If you’d rather, I can send Buffy to take care of him for you, but time is of the essence."

"No. No. There has to be a way. I won’t—I can’t—" The line went dead.

Giles was certain they hadn’t been disconnected; Benton had hung up on him. He shook his head. His heart heavy, he dialed Buffy. "Pack quickly. We have business in Chicago that we must attend immediately."

- - - five - - -

The attack took him—took all of them, really—by surprise.

Fraser took a deep breath. Tried to calm himself. It was...too much to take in. Too...inconceivable.

It was supposed to be a celebration. A party. He and Ray had come down south for the first time in two years just to be here. There’d been so much to be happy about, so many wonderful events happening so close together.

Francesca had her fifth child just three months ago. Elaine had finally made Detective. Welsh was retiring. Even Ray—Ray Vecchio—was there, smiling and showing off his own latest child, a beautiful little boy with golden blond hair.

Altogether, there were twelve children at the party, including his and Ray’s adopted boys.

Only the three youngest of them had been spared. Too young to...participate.

Fraser sat, still numb with shock, his face turned away slightly, so he wouldn’t have to see the carnage.

It was unthinkable. How could they have conspired to do such a thing?

Ray lay a comforting hand on him, bringing him out of his thoughts. "It’s going be okay, Fraser. I promise."

"Did you find out who the ringleader was?"

Ray snorted. "Who do you think?"

Fraser shook his head. "I don’t understand how he could do this."

Ray rolled his eyes. "He’s a wolf who likes cake, Fraser. It’s not rocket science. He got the kids to distract us, then went for it." He thumped Fraser on the back. "Now, c’mon, time to stop moping. We got nine kids covered in frosting to clean up."

- - - end - - -