Title: Smile
Fandom: due South
Characters: Ray Kowalski, Stella
Rating: Gen
Wordcount: 1071



When Ray was still Stan, and his Mum bought him new shoes, he used to walk around for days grinning at his feet. Of course, back then, he grinned at everything.

By the time Stan became Ray and a teenager, his parents couldn’t afford to get him new shoes, and he’d end up with his cousin’s cast offs. He took to scowling at the world. Give it some fucking attitude, or it’s gonna kick you in the head. He learned that when Babcia died. It was bad enough to miss her, but to be kicked out of their apartment by the landlord right afterward – well, that just fucking sucked.

So, he scowled a lot. Unless Stella was around, of course, in which case he couldn’t help himself. All the angst and attitude would melt away, and he’d be smiling again. At first, it would be a shy smile, and he’d dip his glance away from her, in case she didn’t like it, and he’d try to hide his teeth. But the more they hung out together, the more he would laugh outright when she giggled at one of his geeky freaky jokes.

Problem was, even though Ray was a geek, he wasn’t one of the clever geeks. He’d listen in class, he’d get what the teacher was saying, he might even get excited about it and wave his hand in the air to answer – but when it came to writing it down, or explaining it later, he’d get confused, and say or spell it all backward and inside out.

Stella didn’t seem to mind him being a geek freak though. She’d listen to him rambling and talking crap, with a serious expression on her face, and nod in all the right places. It was like, everyone else spoke English – he spoke Ray. And Stella was his translator, his interpreter. She was fluent in Ray.

In fact, she inspired him to new heights of geekiness. When they were doing homework sometimes he’d get an ache behind his eyes. She always knew when it was getting bad, and she’d read to him before the words started skipping on the page and dancing in his head. He loved to hear her read. He told her so. She smiled. He started writing poetry.

Not that his poetry was any good. Years later, after the divorce, he was clearing out his things, and he found them all bundled in a drawer on Stella’s side of the bed.

Your mouth was too pretty to touch, he read. Then you kissed me.

Stella was watching from the doorway. It made his heart hurt. He shut his eyes, and scrunched up the pages –

Then Stella was beside him, snatching them from his hand. ‘You wrote them to me,’ she said, then locked herself in the bathroom, which was what she did these days when he made her cry.

Back when they were kids, he never made her cry. They’d play chess, and he’d let her beat him one game in three – which he’d never done for anyone else, not even Babcia. But the first time Stella had beaten him for real she’d given such a victorious toss of her hair and flash of her eyes that he couldn’t help but want to see it again.

Okay, so sometimes she did beat him for real. Not that he’d admit it to himself.

Anyway – apart from The Stella, he didn’t smile a lot after Babcia died. Not because he was traumatised or anything – he’d known she was going to die, and at least she didn’t hurt anymore – but because, guh! Overnight he shot up, and was all gangle and knees, and kept forgetting to duck when he stepped in through the low doors of their trailer.

Yeah, well. That too. It suddenly dawned on him that he was trailer trash, going out with a Gold Coast Girl.

Which… huh. She seemed to like that.

Fuck it. He’d never be a proper geek. Wasn’t clever enough, even if his Dad did think he had college smarts. God, I’m gonna let Dad down. And he’d never be good enough for Stella’s family anyway – he might as well play the part and be the bad boy.

He had a plan. A purpose in life. He had to get himself a motorcycle. He imagined himself straddling a big sexy Harley Davison, with Stella hanging on behind him… then downscaled a bit, when he thought about his budget.

I’m gonna have to settle for a fucking moped.

Still, that vacation he got himself a summer job. His Dad didn’t like it, but Ray started on the nightshift at the meatpacking plant, trying his damndest not to think about what he was touching, and began saving. Most of his wages went on bills and groceries, and he didn’t know what all. How the hell Mum managed without the extra income, he had no idea. But even so, he managed to put some aside every week. His parents were proud, even though they didn’t approve of what he was saving for.

“My baby’s going to get himself killed,” Mum said tearfully.

“More like kill someone else,” Dad replied, almost admiringly. “I’ve seen him drive.”

Seemed like it took forever to get the bike; seemed sometimes like he’d never get the blood out from under his fingernails. But his cousin’s friend’s sister’s husband did him a layaway deal after he had the deposit.

Weird thing though. When he roared up Stella’s driveway on the bike, which was supposed to be his moment of triumph, he was still scowling. Stella’s mother was peering through the curtains, looking appalled, which was kinda the reaction Ray had been hoping for.

He got off the bike, and crunched across the gravelled path to bang his fist on the door. He leaned, casually, against the wall, as he waited for Stella to stop arguing with her parents and join him. Since he’d stopped being a geek and started being a bad boy, they always kicked up a fuss when he arrived. But she was their princess, and she always got her way.

He should start smoking. That would really piss them off.

Stella finally opened the door, and he looked down, still trying to be cool if her parents were watching.

He looked down at the shit-kicking boots he’d bought that morning, to go with the bike.

He looked at his boots, and smiled.