Self insertion challenge, llassah
Feb. 24th, 2008 10:46 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ds_flashfictionTitle: Close to Subtle
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
llassah
Pairing: RayK/Fraser, preslash
Time: Some time after good for the soul
Rating: PG-13, for some bad language
Length: 1000 words
Author:
llassah Pairing: RayK/Fraser, preslash
Time: Some time after good for the soul
Rating: PG-13, for some bad language
Length: 1000 words
Yes, I’m British. I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing running a coffee shop in down town Chicago, aren’t you. Well, the short answer would be I haven’t the foggiest, either. It happened. It’s a good city, a bit out of the way for me, but still, the doughnuts are better here than in Wales. The accent goes down better, too- never understood that. Suddenly, I’m automatically polite- I’m polite already? Kind of you to say so, thank you. You like normal coffee, right? Not too strong, milky, some sugar in it, and some candy to drop in.
You came in three months ago; I have a good memory for what coffee people like. Says a lot about them. Black, strong and sweet for people who drink it for the hit, a dash of milk for women who are trying to watch their weight. Espresso for people in a hurry, hot chocolate for people going through a break-up. Like I told you, you can learn a lot about a person. Your friend, the bloke who dresses like a post box, likes a cup of tea when things are going well, herbal tea when things are going better, coffee when he’s tired.
He comes here, too, sometimes. And I saw you two chasing someone in a shopping centre once, made the connection. You didn’t know he came here too? Well, it’s not as if he has to tell you, is it? Hey- calm down, this isn’t some sort of interrogation, I’m just caffeinating you. Sit. Bad service? Oh, sorry, have a nice day, gee, are you enjoying your coffee, sir, how would you like your arse licked this time?
I’m still in business because I make good coffee, I remember faces, and sometimes being polite isn’t what you need. I’ve got a PHD, I could have been writing obscure articles about obscure books to be read by obscure people. I get to talk about books to people, now. Get to see them at their worst, and then watch them relax. It’s a good life.
Yes, he talks about books to me. God, he’s like one the professors back at uni. Quick, sharp as a tack. Good looking, too- ha, don’t try hiding that smile, you look like a dreamy schoolgirl. I’m glad you and he are- you know. Attached.
What do you mean, only your partner? Oh, copspeak. Haven’t watched enough Starsky and Hutch to understand what you meant. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have presumed. He talks about you too, you know.
Oh, terrible things- absolutely awful, I’m surprised he puts up with you.
Yes, that was a joke. Sorry, being polite is tiring sometimes.
I don’t mean to intrude, but- last time he came in, he was moving stiffly, his face bruised. It was close to Christmas. Is he alright? I’ve been worried, he was even more evasive than usual when I asked, and I didn’t want to push him.
Fuck- he actually did that? Just because-no, what am I saying, just. To us, they look like windmills, but they can be tilted at all the same. Yes, Cervantes. Now there’s a strange book. One of the first novels and it’s closer to the stuff that’s being written now than the stuff in between. Did you enjoy it? Yeah, I prefer it when books don’t make complete sense. Good to have a hole to pick at, make something that means a bit more out of what’s there. Sentimental literature- bizarre genre, but one hell of a lot to talk about. I like the books that slip through the cracks, the ones people don’t notice because they can’t see past Austen, Dickens, Proust. Makes you wonder what people will still be reading of us in a few centuries.
Do you want a refill? No, on the house, I want to talk to you. Yeah, luring you in with coffee, like some dreadful scarlet woman. Shameful, I know. An arrestable offence, guv’nor? Coffee dealing- I’m sure it’s a crime, somewhere. Yes, he’d probably know. I sometimes wonder what would happen if he learned to lie, how long it would take for people to notice. It could be years, until he started claiming that the sea tasted sweet, and people only sneezed in groups of two.
You’re slumping. It’s no use sitting up straight, now- I’m on to you. What’s wrong? Something to do with Mr. post box? Because he’s red, that’s why. They’re red in Britain, along with telephone boxes and London busses. He introduced himself right off, of course, and told me exactly why he was in Chicago, but I couldn’t shake thinking of him as a post box. Warped, I know. Ha, course he doesn’t know- we’re not on nickname terms. He still calls me ‘Ma’am’. I call him ‘Constable’. Wouldn’t want to scare the man off, after all. I like to talk to him. He’s good company. Not my type, but still, each to their own.
Every other woman in Chicago? Bitter? Oh, come on, you don’t need to protect his virtue, and don’t pretend you do. If he had wanted a woman, he’d be settled down and having children by now.
You could always ask him, you know. I’m sure he’d understand you storming off if you explained. Or explained some of it. He’s a decent man, give him some credit. And if you think you need some help, get him drunk, first- it worked for my sixth term professor. In my defence, he didn’t put up much resistance. In fact-
Hey, why are you ducking? Oh, it’s no use, he’s seen you- he’s crossing the road now- possibly jaywalking. I’d get out the cuffs. I just remembered, I have a good deal of washing up to do. Would you mind terribly if you and your nice post boxish gentleman friend minded the shop while I went in to the kitchen, shut the door, and made lots of noise with running water and the radio? Oh, and there’s a bottle of whiskey under the counter, and a box of condoms- come on, don’t be a prude, I wiped the surface after.
Subtle? Subtle’s my middle name.
Well, Jane’s close to subtle. Good luck. I’ll tell you all about the professor later.
You came in three months ago; I have a good memory for what coffee people like. Says a lot about them. Black, strong and sweet for people who drink it for the hit, a dash of milk for women who are trying to watch their weight. Espresso for people in a hurry, hot chocolate for people going through a break-up. Like I told you, you can learn a lot about a person. Your friend, the bloke who dresses like a post box, likes a cup of tea when things are going well, herbal tea when things are going better, coffee when he’s tired.
He comes here, too, sometimes. And I saw you two chasing someone in a shopping centre once, made the connection. You didn’t know he came here too? Well, it’s not as if he has to tell you, is it? Hey- calm down, this isn’t some sort of interrogation, I’m just caffeinating you. Sit. Bad service? Oh, sorry, have a nice day, gee, are you enjoying your coffee, sir, how would you like your arse licked this time?
I’m still in business because I make good coffee, I remember faces, and sometimes being polite isn’t what you need. I’ve got a PHD, I could have been writing obscure articles about obscure books to be read by obscure people. I get to talk about books to people, now. Get to see them at their worst, and then watch them relax. It’s a good life.
Yes, he talks about books to me. God, he’s like one the professors back at uni. Quick, sharp as a tack. Good looking, too- ha, don’t try hiding that smile, you look like a dreamy schoolgirl. I’m glad you and he are- you know. Attached.
What do you mean, only your partner? Oh, copspeak. Haven’t watched enough Starsky and Hutch to understand what you meant. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have presumed. He talks about you too, you know.
Oh, terrible things- absolutely awful, I’m surprised he puts up with you.
Yes, that was a joke. Sorry, being polite is tiring sometimes.
I don’t mean to intrude, but- last time he came in, he was moving stiffly, his face bruised. It was close to Christmas. Is he alright? I’ve been worried, he was even more evasive than usual when I asked, and I didn’t want to push him.
Fuck- he actually did that? Just because-no, what am I saying, just. To us, they look like windmills, but they can be tilted at all the same. Yes, Cervantes. Now there’s a strange book. One of the first novels and it’s closer to the stuff that’s being written now than the stuff in between. Did you enjoy it? Yeah, I prefer it when books don’t make complete sense. Good to have a hole to pick at, make something that means a bit more out of what’s there. Sentimental literature- bizarre genre, but one hell of a lot to talk about. I like the books that slip through the cracks, the ones people don’t notice because they can’t see past Austen, Dickens, Proust. Makes you wonder what people will still be reading of us in a few centuries.
Do you want a refill? No, on the house, I want to talk to you. Yeah, luring you in with coffee, like some dreadful scarlet woman. Shameful, I know. An arrestable offence, guv’nor? Coffee dealing- I’m sure it’s a crime, somewhere. Yes, he’d probably know. I sometimes wonder what would happen if he learned to lie, how long it would take for people to notice. It could be years, until he started claiming that the sea tasted sweet, and people only sneezed in groups of two.
You’re slumping. It’s no use sitting up straight, now- I’m on to you. What’s wrong? Something to do with Mr. post box? Because he’s red, that’s why. They’re red in Britain, along with telephone boxes and London busses. He introduced himself right off, of course, and told me exactly why he was in Chicago, but I couldn’t shake thinking of him as a post box. Warped, I know. Ha, course he doesn’t know- we’re not on nickname terms. He still calls me ‘Ma’am’. I call him ‘Constable’. Wouldn’t want to scare the man off, after all. I like to talk to him. He’s good company. Not my type, but still, each to their own.
Every other woman in Chicago? Bitter? Oh, come on, you don’t need to protect his virtue, and don’t pretend you do. If he had wanted a woman, he’d be settled down and having children by now.
You could always ask him, you know. I’m sure he’d understand you storming off if you explained. Or explained some of it. He’s a decent man, give him some credit. And if you think you need some help, get him drunk, first- it worked for my sixth term professor. In my defence, he didn’t put up much resistance. In fact-
Hey, why are you ducking? Oh, it’s no use, he’s seen you- he’s crossing the road now- possibly jaywalking. I’d get out the cuffs. I just remembered, I have a good deal of washing up to do. Would you mind terribly if you and your nice post boxish gentleman friend minded the shop while I went in to the kitchen, shut the door, and made lots of noise with running water and the radio? Oh, and there’s a bottle of whiskey under the counter, and a box of condoms- come on, don’t be a prude, I wiped the surface after.
Subtle? Subtle’s my middle name.
Well, Jane’s close to subtle. Good luck. I’ll tell you all about the professor later.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-24 11:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-24 11:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-24 11:40 pm (UTC)Coffee dealing- I’m sure it’s a crime, somewhere. Yes, he’d probably know.
Hee! Yes. :-D
(And of course I want to hear the story about the professor sometime. Perhaps when Ray comes back to report on his seduction. ;-)
no subject
Date: 2008-02-24 11:44 pm (UTC)I sometimes wonder what would happen if he learned to lie, how long it would take for people to notice. It could be years, until he started claiming that the sea tasted sweet, and people only sneezed in groups of two.
I couldn't tell you why I like it, exactly. I just do. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-02-24 11:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 12:40 am (UTC)And I love this to bits: I sometimes wonder what would happen if he learned to lie, how long it would take for people to notice. It could be years, until he started claiming that the sea tasted sweet, and people only sneezed in groups of two.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 01:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 05:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 06:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 08:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 06:27 pm (UTC)*elopes with your mind for about the seventeenth time*
no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 07:20 pm (UTC)i'm with keerawa, i'd read RPF about you, FOR SURE.
and i absolutely adore this: I sometimes wonder what would happen if he learned to lie, how long it would take for people to notice. It could be years, until he started claiming that the sea tasted sweet, and people only sneezed in groups of two.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-26 12:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-26 03:38 am (UTC)Oh. Oh my.
This rocks hard, llassah. I mean, for goodness sake, people wanna RPF you! I don't think there's any higher praise than that.
And dude, I would so totally buy coffee from you.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-26 05:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-05 12:56 am (UTC)Love this. Very fun. Very cute. The voice is wonderful and original, and I can hear the other side of the conversation in my head too :)
no subject
Date: 2008-03-07 12:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-20 03:49 pm (UTC)