clarasteam (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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fan_flashworks2019-02-10 12:05 pm
clarasteam) wrote in fan_flashworks2019-02-10 12:05 pm
Entry tags:
due South: Fanfic: Dance Steps and Explosions
Title: Dance Steps and Explosions
Fandom: due South
Length: 500
Rating: G
Characters: Fraser, mentions of others
Author note: sequel to Discord and Strife, set during and after Strange Bedfellows; also a fill for the Step square on my bingo card. thanks toowl_by_night for encouragement.
Content notes: no warnings apply, but there are brief references to the incidents of Victoria's Secret
Summary: Fraser throws the bomb up off the balcony with seconds to spare and watches it explode in the air, the way the champagne bottle exploded in the lake after he threw it overboard from the Oriole.
Fraser throws the bomb up off the balcony with seconds to spare and watches it explode in the air, the way the champagne bottle exploded in the lake after he threw it overboard from the Oriole. The first time, he’d thought the bomber was after Frank Orsini. Now they know the real target was Stella Kowalski. Both times, she’d been dancing with Ray, oblivious to the danger that threatened them.
Dance steps and explosions: the pattern lingers in his mind.
He imagines it, afterwards, the dance he didn’t see, though he could hear the music through the door of Stella’s apartment. Smooth and graceful, the way they had danced together in the restaurant. He imagines Ray, too, going back to his apartment alone and putting the music on again. Dancing with empty arms, with the still-living ghost of Stella.
What would it be like, to dance with someone whose steps matched yours so perfectly that to watch you together was like watching two people making love? “You’re both excellent dancers,” he’d said to Ray, when what he wanted to say was You’re beautiful. Dance with me.
Fraser had danced with Ray Vecchio, that time at Saint Fortunata’s when he was undercover as Miss Fraser. Ridiculous disco dancing to cover their conversation about the case, and a fast tango walk to get them out of the room in pursuit of the villains. A means to an end, nothing more.
He misses Ray Vecchio. He wishes he could talk to him about what’s going on with this new Ray. That’s absurd, of course. They never talked about that sort of thing. Ray Kowalski told Fraser more about himself the second time they met than Ray Vecchio had done in two years of working together.
And anyway, if he could talk to Ray Vecchio there would be no Ray Kowalski at the 27th Precinct; he and Fraser would never have met. Whatever happens, Fraser can’t wish that.
Of course Ray was angry with him. Fraser should have known better than to try to talk to him about Stella when Ray was still raw from what happened between them. It was too soon. He’d wanted to help, but he’d also wanted Ray not to care so much about a woman who obviously isn’t worthy of him, however well their dance steps match.
Fraser winces, remembering the words Ray flung at him in the car: What you don’t know about women would make a good book, Fraser. Real good.
It’s true: his one experience of loving a woman ended in destruction. He’d had too much time to think about that, lying in the hospital after Victoria left. How close he’d come to losing Diefenbaker. How he’d been willing to sacrifice Ray Vecchio, their friendship, and even the Vecchio family’s home to that implacable devouring passion.
He is not good at love. He wants to be better at friendship. He hopes he can mend things with Ray Kowalski. Phone calls and pizza are a good start.
Fandom: due South
Length: 500
Rating: G
Characters: Fraser, mentions of others
Author note: sequel to Discord and Strife, set during and after Strange Bedfellows; also a fill for the Step square on my bingo card. thanks to
owl_by_night for encouragement.Content notes: no warnings apply, but there are brief references to the incidents of Victoria's Secret
Summary: Fraser throws the bomb up off the balcony with seconds to spare and watches it explode in the air, the way the champagne bottle exploded in the lake after he threw it overboard from the Oriole.
Fraser throws the bomb up off the balcony with seconds to spare and watches it explode in the air, the way the champagne bottle exploded in the lake after he threw it overboard from the Oriole. The first time, he’d thought the bomber was after Frank Orsini. Now they know the real target was Stella Kowalski. Both times, she’d been dancing with Ray, oblivious to the danger that threatened them.
Dance steps and explosions: the pattern lingers in his mind.
He imagines it, afterwards, the dance he didn’t see, though he could hear the music through the door of Stella’s apartment. Smooth and graceful, the way they had danced together in the restaurant. He imagines Ray, too, going back to his apartment alone and putting the music on again. Dancing with empty arms, with the still-living ghost of Stella.
What would it be like, to dance with someone whose steps matched yours so perfectly that to watch you together was like watching two people making love? “You’re both excellent dancers,” he’d said to Ray, when what he wanted to say was You’re beautiful. Dance with me.
Fraser had danced with Ray Vecchio, that time at Saint Fortunata’s when he was undercover as Miss Fraser. Ridiculous disco dancing to cover their conversation about the case, and a fast tango walk to get them out of the room in pursuit of the villains. A means to an end, nothing more.
He misses Ray Vecchio. He wishes he could talk to him about what’s going on with this new Ray. That’s absurd, of course. They never talked about that sort of thing. Ray Kowalski told Fraser more about himself the second time they met than Ray Vecchio had done in two years of working together.
And anyway, if he could talk to Ray Vecchio there would be no Ray Kowalski at the 27th Precinct; he and Fraser would never have met. Whatever happens, Fraser can’t wish that.
Of course Ray was angry with him. Fraser should have known better than to try to talk to him about Stella when Ray was still raw from what happened between them. It was too soon. He’d wanted to help, but he’d also wanted Ray not to care so much about a woman who obviously isn’t worthy of him, however well their dance steps match.
Fraser winces, remembering the words Ray flung at him in the car: What you don’t know about women would make a good book, Fraser. Real good.
It’s true: his one experience of loving a woman ended in destruction. He’d had too much time to think about that, lying in the hospital after Victoria left. How close he’d come to losing Diefenbaker. How he’d been willing to sacrifice Ray Vecchio, their friendship, and even the Vecchio family’s home to that implacable devouring passion.
He is not good at love. He wants to be better at friendship. He hopes he can mend things with Ray Kowalski. Phone calls and pizza are a good start.
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