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ds_flashfictionEeek. 1,265 words. Sorry! It actually started out as a glimmer for last week's challenge, as you will note...
Although later I was never sure what it was exactly, something made me glance up from The RCMP: A History just in time to see yet another new cadet trip over the outstretched foot of "Blade" Thorsson. From three tables away, all I could do was wince and wait for the inevitable crash of the tray -- which, miraculously, never came. Somehow his long legs found their balance again, and the gangly blond stayed upright.
I shot an angry glance at Thorsson, but knew from the past year's experience that any effort of mine toward an official reprimand would do no good -- somehow his pleas of innocence were always believed. I did what I could do, though, catching the blond's eye and motioning him over, then moving my books off the empty space across from my seat and depositing them back into my bag under the table.
"Thanks," said the young man, placing his tray on the table and dropping into the chair with a sigh.
"Nice footwork," I said. Nice everything, I thought.
"Yeah, just call me Gene Kelly."
I extended my hand, poker-faced. "Benton Fraser. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kelly."
'Gene' stopped with his hand half-outstretched, an incredulous look on his face. I let it go on for another second, then allowed my grin to show. It provoked an answering smile of unmatched intensity.
"Oh, man, you're good. And it's Steve. Steve Foster." Our hands finally met, and I felt a shock as we touched.
"Ow!" said Steve. "Sorry, I've been doing that all day. Got a nasty zap from a plant in the office."
"It's all right," I said. Steve nodded and began to eat as though he was starving.
"So is it always this cold up here?" asked Steve, after consuming half the contents of his tray in about three minutes flat.
"The climate is generally ... cold, yes," I replied. Brilliant, Fraser, I thought, feeling my face heat. Very smooth. I felt tongue-tied, unusual for me, and took a bite of my mashed potatoes to cover my unease.
"Oh. Okay," said Steve. His manner seemed awkward too, and I wondered if perhaps the feeling of unease was mutual. I cast about for a topic of conversation and realized what had been tugging at my mind since Steve had sat down.
"Where are you from?" I asked. He looked up from his coffee in surprise.
"Why d'you ask?"
I smiled. "Your accent, mostly."
Steve grinned. "I don't hear it, myself, but Mum says I have one too, despite her best efforts." He pushed his empty tray to the side, keeping his coffee cup in front of him. "I was born in Toronto, but my parents moved to DC when I was three. Mum's a diplomat, so we moved around a lot after that, too. Twelve states in fifteen years. Finally she got transferred back home so I could come here."
"And your father?"
Steve hesitated a moment, rotating his cup within the circle of his fingers, then said "Dad took off. Five years ago."
I reached out unthinkingly and grasped his arm. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean --"
Steve shook his head. "Don't worry about it. You didn't know." He shrugged, then looked down curiously at my hand still on his arm. I flushed again and moved it.
"Sorry," I said again.
"Don't be," said Steve, a different tone in his voice now. "Do you want to ... get out of here? Go for a ride, maybe?"
"Sure," I said, mystified. "But I didn't think they allowed freshman to have cars here."
"They don't," said Steve. "That's why I brought my horse."
After I almost fell off for the third time, Steve reined up and said "You should have told me you didn't know how to ride."
"I do," I said indignantly. "I'm ... just not used to pillion."
Steve shook his head. "Grab around my waist, for God's sake. Scooch up. I don't bite."
Pity, I thought, grabbing and 'scooching' as I was bid. From this position I could feel the warmth of Steve's thighs along my own, not to mention the proximity of my groin to his --
"Hey!" I started at Steve's shout, sure that somehow my thoughts had been read. But his arm was raised, fingers pointing at the horizon. "Is that --?"
I squinted, sighting along his arm, wishing for my spyglass. I saw a black lump about 500 meters away and turned just enough to say quietly in Steve's ear, "It's a bear. Grizzly or brown, it's hard to tell from here."
"Cool. You want to get closer?"
"Are you insane?" I said. "This isn't a zoo, and I don't have a weapon. If it's a female grizzly and she has cubs, we could be in serious trouble. Besides, your horse will probably spook as soon as he smells it."
Steve slumped. "Damn," he said. His change in posture pressed his whole back against my front, and my nose hit the back of Steve's head.
"Ow," I said reflexively, although it hadn't hurt at all. Steve twisted back to look at me.
"You okay?"
"Fine," I said. "No harm done."
"Good," said Steve, still facing backwards. His proximity was starting to have an effect on my libido, and I stared at him, willing him to turn back around and move on before anything too embarrassing happened. The horse shifted then, and I pitched forward sharply. I stopped himself just short of mashing my nose into Steve's head yet again, but when I tried to pull back, Steve whispered, "No, wait, just ... oh, hell," and kissed me.
I heard someone make a helpless whimper, and then realized it was me. My hands crept up, almost of their own volition, one on either side of Steve's face. I felt Steve's tongue trace my lips and opened my mouth wide, wondering how I could ever have thought it would be strange to have someone else's tongue in there. It wasn't strange, it was wonderful, and clearly I'd been an idiot.
Steve hummed, a deep, satisfied sound, and I hummed back in answer, feeling Steve's hand clutching my shoulder and his hair soft around my fingers. I lost track of time altogether then, until the horse shifted its feet again, and we broke apart.
"Wow," Steve gasped, and I laughed, at a loss for words. He checked his watch. "We should, um, get back," he said. "I promised I'd get Gus here back in his stall by seven-thirty."
"Okay," I said, dropping my hands back down to Steve's waist. He turned forward again and clicked his tongue at Gus, who obediently started back to the stables. I checked over his shoulder for the location of the bear, appalled that I'd forgotten about it, and saw with relief that it was moving parallel to us, but in the opposite direction. "When we get back," I said, tightening my hold, "I could help you groom Gus, if you want."
"Oh, I want," said Steve with a chuckle. "Boy, do I want."
"Good," I said, my voice an octave lower than usual. For the rest of the ride I buried my nose in Steve's hair and reflected on how my grandmother would feel if she knew how I'd put her parting advice into practice. "Benton," she'd said, "just remember what I've taught you -- a little bit of courtesy towards a stranger is never a mistake." Thanks, Gran, I thought, and smiled; and we flew over the rough terrain as though our horse had wings.
Although later I was never sure what it was exactly, something made me glance up from The RCMP: A History just in time to see yet another new cadet trip over the outstretched foot of "Blade" Thorsson. From three tables away, all I could do was wince and wait for the inevitable crash of the tray -- which, miraculously, never came. Somehow his long legs found their balance again, and the gangly blond stayed upright.
I shot an angry glance at Thorsson, but knew from the past year's experience that any effort of mine toward an official reprimand would do no good -- somehow his pleas of innocence were always believed. I did what I could do, though, catching the blond's eye and motioning him over, then moving my books off the empty space across from my seat and depositing them back into my bag under the table.
"Thanks," said the young man, placing his tray on the table and dropping into the chair with a sigh.
"Nice footwork," I said. Nice everything, I thought.
"Yeah, just call me Gene Kelly."
I extended my hand, poker-faced. "Benton Fraser. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kelly."
'Gene' stopped with his hand half-outstretched, an incredulous look on his face. I let it go on for another second, then allowed my grin to show. It provoked an answering smile of unmatched intensity.
"Oh, man, you're good. And it's Steve. Steve Foster." Our hands finally met, and I felt a shock as we touched.
"Ow!" said Steve. "Sorry, I've been doing that all day. Got a nasty zap from a plant in the office."
"It's all right," I said. Steve nodded and began to eat as though he was starving.
"So is it always this cold up here?" asked Steve, after consuming half the contents of his tray in about three minutes flat.
"The climate is generally ... cold, yes," I replied. Brilliant, Fraser, I thought, feeling my face heat. Very smooth. I felt tongue-tied, unusual for me, and took a bite of my mashed potatoes to cover my unease.
"Oh. Okay," said Steve. His manner seemed awkward too, and I wondered if perhaps the feeling of unease was mutual. I cast about for a topic of conversation and realized what had been tugging at my mind since Steve had sat down.
"Where are you from?" I asked. He looked up from his coffee in surprise.
"Why d'you ask?"
I smiled. "Your accent, mostly."
Steve grinned. "I don't hear it, myself, but Mum says I have one too, despite her best efforts." He pushed his empty tray to the side, keeping his coffee cup in front of him. "I was born in Toronto, but my parents moved to DC when I was three. Mum's a diplomat, so we moved around a lot after that, too. Twelve states in fifteen years. Finally she got transferred back home so I could come here."
"And your father?"
Steve hesitated a moment, rotating his cup within the circle of his fingers, then said "Dad took off. Five years ago."
I reached out unthinkingly and grasped his arm. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean --"
Steve shook his head. "Don't worry about it. You didn't know." He shrugged, then looked down curiously at my hand still on his arm. I flushed again and moved it.
"Sorry," I said again.
"Don't be," said Steve, a different tone in his voice now. "Do you want to ... get out of here? Go for a ride, maybe?"
"Sure," I said, mystified. "But I didn't think they allowed freshman to have cars here."
"They don't," said Steve. "That's why I brought my horse."
After I almost fell off for the third time, Steve reined up and said "You should have told me you didn't know how to ride."
"I do," I said indignantly. "I'm ... just not used to pillion."
Steve shook his head. "Grab around my waist, for God's sake. Scooch up. I don't bite."
Pity, I thought, grabbing and 'scooching' as I was bid. From this position I could feel the warmth of Steve's thighs along my own, not to mention the proximity of my groin to his --
"Hey!" I started at Steve's shout, sure that somehow my thoughts had been read. But his arm was raised, fingers pointing at the horizon. "Is that --?"
I squinted, sighting along his arm, wishing for my spyglass. I saw a black lump about 500 meters away and turned just enough to say quietly in Steve's ear, "It's a bear. Grizzly or brown, it's hard to tell from here."
"Cool. You want to get closer?"
"Are you insane?" I said. "This isn't a zoo, and I don't have a weapon. If it's a female grizzly and she has cubs, we could be in serious trouble. Besides, your horse will probably spook as soon as he smells it."
Steve slumped. "Damn," he said. His change in posture pressed his whole back against my front, and my nose hit the back of Steve's head.
"Ow," I said reflexively, although it hadn't hurt at all. Steve twisted back to look at me.
"You okay?"
"Fine," I said. "No harm done."
"Good," said Steve, still facing backwards. His proximity was starting to have an effect on my libido, and I stared at him, willing him to turn back around and move on before anything too embarrassing happened. The horse shifted then, and I pitched forward sharply. I stopped himself just short of mashing my nose into Steve's head yet again, but when I tried to pull back, Steve whispered, "No, wait, just ... oh, hell," and kissed me.
I heard someone make a helpless whimper, and then realized it was me. My hands crept up, almost of their own volition, one on either side of Steve's face. I felt Steve's tongue trace my lips and opened my mouth wide, wondering how I could ever have thought it would be strange to have someone else's tongue in there. It wasn't strange, it was wonderful, and clearly I'd been an idiot.
Steve hummed, a deep, satisfied sound, and I hummed back in answer, feeling Steve's hand clutching my shoulder and his hair soft around my fingers. I lost track of time altogether then, until the horse shifted its feet again, and we broke apart.
"Wow," Steve gasped, and I laughed, at a loss for words. He checked his watch. "We should, um, get back," he said. "I promised I'd get Gus here back in his stall by seven-thirty."
"Okay," I said, dropping my hands back down to Steve's waist. He turned forward again and clicked his tongue at Gus, who obediently started back to the stables. I checked over his shoulder for the location of the bear, appalled that I'd forgotten about it, and saw with relief that it was moving parallel to us, but in the opposite direction. "When we get back," I said, tightening my hold, "I could help you groom Gus, if you want."
"Oh, I want," said Steve with a chuckle. "Boy, do I want."
"Good," I said, my voice an octave lower than usual. For the rest of the ride I buried my nose in Steve's hair and reflected on how my grandmother would feel if she knew how I'd put her parting advice into practice. "Benton," she'd said, "just remember what I've taught you -- a little bit of courtesy towards a stranger is never a mistake." Thanks, Gran, I thought, and smiled; and we flew over the rough terrain as though our horse had wings.
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no subject
Date: 2003-07-09 05:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-09 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-09 06:24 pm (UTC)Very nice. Except I'd like a sequel, with the horse grooming and all. :-)
no subject
Date: 2003-07-09 07:45 pm (UTC)::goes to lie down::
no subject
Date: 2003-07-09 08:31 pm (UTC)Ferget it, wooman! Only if you can lie down and write a sequel at the same time! *g*
Mmmm...Stablehand!Fraser....
::slapping self silly to get self's mind out of gutter::
no subject
Date: 2003-07-09 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-09 07:43 pm (UTC)Hunh.
;)
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Date: 2003-07-09 06:50 pm (UTC)I love the mystery of Steve, and your incarnation of him is wondrous indeed. Who wouldn't fall for a gangly, blond, American-accented lawman....wait a minute....hmmmm.
Clever Starfish.
no subject
Date: 2003-07-09 07:39 pm (UTC)Heh heh heh.
no subject
Date: 2003-07-10 04:11 am (UTC)Very cool, hon.
no subject
Date: 2003-07-10 10:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-10 04:59 am (UTC)*LOL*
Lovely work! Go you!
no subject
Date: 2003-07-10 10:06 am (UTC)(See you tonight!)
no subject
Date: 2003-07-10 12:28 pm (UTC)In typical fashion, I forgot to burn your Godspell cd before leaving for work this morning, but if you'll swing by my house briefly after the reading I can burn it for you real quick...
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Date: 2003-07-10 05:24 am (UTC)Yay, SteveFic! Fabulous, darling, simply fabulous. *I* wanna know what happens in the stable. MmmmHotSweatyWorkingMenPornmmmm.
no subject
Date: 2003-07-10 10:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-10 10:09 am (UTC)I think I can safely promise that any follow-up written will have very minimal involvement of the equine sort. Gus has done what he needed to already.
no subject
Date: 2003-07-10 09:40 am (UTC)Ben kissed Steve! On a horse!!!
I'm all happy now! YAY!
no subject
Date: 2003-07-10 10:11 am (UTC)Glad I happied you.