ficlets 4 + 5
19/3/04 22:56![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schmericaGod bless mindless train travel. Nothing beats it for brainstorming.
*****
Ray doesn't wear them that often, the glasses. They're big, clunky, a pain in the ass -- plus, well, he can say it. They're nerdy. They're geek *central*.
But it's not just the style thing and the bother thing. Cause the other thing is -- sometimes it's better this way. Because, sure, bad guys, yeah -- clear and easy, bang bang! But sometimes you don't *want* to see that good.
When you squint, thirty-four-year-old sick-and-tired Stella looks a lot like twenty-year-old moon-eyed Stella. When you don't look real close, the cracks don't show up so much. When everything's a blur, there's nothing to say that Ray Kowalski doesn't have it *together*, that this isn't the *life*.
Except sometimes -- sometimes there's stuff he *wants* to see. It's dark in the bedroom, so he wouldn't be able to see anyway, but he fumbles around the nightstand with one hand before he remembers they're still in his jacket in the other room.
He crawls out from under the blankets to go get them and put them on. When he comes back he leaves the door open so light can come in from the hallway. He sits on the very edge of the bed and watches Fraser sleep, crystal clear.
*****
The first apartment Ray and Stella lived in was a dump, tiny and crowded and in a horrible neighborhood. But it was cheap, at least, and it wasn't like they planned to stay there that long. There was a crappy little kitchen and a bathroom and a bed, and what else did they really need? They made love whenever they could and every night they ate hamburger or spaghetti or boxed macaroni and cheese on fancy wedding-present china -- at least until Ray chipped two of the plates, because then Stella locked it up in the cabinet and they started eating off of thrift store plates.
After dinner Stella would sit at the table with her textbooks and study while Ray got ready for work. He was working two jobs then, and graveyard shift paid good, even if it meant they didn't see each other so often.
Some nights -- most nights -- he'd look over at her while he was getting himself together, and it'd hit him all of a sudden, like it was brand new. Because there was Stella, leaning over her books and chewing on her pencil, and this was his *wife*, this was *their* home. And those nights Ray couldn't help drifting over to the record player, putting on some of their music, and dragging Stella away from her studies to the middle of the floor. There wasn't much room there, but they both closed their eyes and held each other and danced until Ray was *this* close to being late and getting fired, and he had to run the whole way to work to make it on time.
Looking back, Ray was pretty sure it was the happiest time in their marriage, bar none.
So when Fraser showed him the place -- and it was puny, seriously, a bed and a stove, a chest and a table and chairs, hardly anything at all -- Ray looked around the place and scratched the back of his head a little.
And Fraser was talking, pointing things out, stuff like maybe adding bookshelves over here or some touches over here, make it more homelike.
But Ray looked over at him and just said, "Looks cozy," and made a note to himself to set up the cd player right over there.
*****
Ray doesn't wear them that often, the glasses. They're big, clunky, a pain in the ass -- plus, well, he can say it. They're nerdy. They're geek *central*.
But it's not just the style thing and the bother thing. Cause the other thing is -- sometimes it's better this way. Because, sure, bad guys, yeah -- clear and easy, bang bang! But sometimes you don't *want* to see that good.
When you squint, thirty-four-year-old sick-and-tired Stella looks a lot like twenty-year-old moon-eyed Stella. When you don't look real close, the cracks don't show up so much. When everything's a blur, there's nothing to say that Ray Kowalski doesn't have it *together*, that this isn't the *life*.
Except sometimes -- sometimes there's stuff he *wants* to see. It's dark in the bedroom, so he wouldn't be able to see anyway, but he fumbles around the nightstand with one hand before he remembers they're still in his jacket in the other room.
He crawls out from under the blankets to go get them and put them on. When he comes back he leaves the door open so light can come in from the hallway. He sits on the very edge of the bed and watches Fraser sleep, crystal clear.
*****
The first apartment Ray and Stella lived in was a dump, tiny and crowded and in a horrible neighborhood. But it was cheap, at least, and it wasn't like they planned to stay there that long. There was a crappy little kitchen and a bathroom and a bed, and what else did they really need? They made love whenever they could and every night they ate hamburger or spaghetti or boxed macaroni and cheese on fancy wedding-present china -- at least until Ray chipped two of the plates, because then Stella locked it up in the cabinet and they started eating off of thrift store plates.
After dinner Stella would sit at the table with her textbooks and study while Ray got ready for work. He was working two jobs then, and graveyard shift paid good, even if it meant they didn't see each other so often.
Some nights -- most nights -- he'd look over at her while he was getting himself together, and it'd hit him all of a sudden, like it was brand new. Because there was Stella, leaning over her books and chewing on her pencil, and this was his *wife*, this was *their* home. And those nights Ray couldn't help drifting over to the record player, putting on some of their music, and dragging Stella away from her studies to the middle of the floor. There wasn't much room there, but they both closed their eyes and held each other and danced until Ray was *this* close to being late and getting fired, and he had to run the whole way to work to make it on time.
Looking back, Ray was pretty sure it was the happiest time in their marriage, bar none.
So when Fraser showed him the place -- and it was puny, seriously, a bed and a stove, a chest and a table and chairs, hardly anything at all -- Ray looked around the place and scratched the back of his head a little.
And Fraser was talking, pointing things out, stuff like maybe adding bookshelves over here or some touches over here, make it more homelike.
But Ray looked over at him and just said, "Looks cozy," and made a note to himself to set up the cd player right over there.
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(no subject)
20/3/04 15:38 (UTC)(no subject)
20/3/04 17:52 (UTC)