ds snippet for lalejandra
2/9/05 09:25![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schmericaBenton tried illegal drugs only once -- he was still a teenager at the time, and his grandparents had just moved them once again, this time to a town, with a school, and other children his own age.
"At that time," he explained to Ray, who looked skeptical, "I still believed that friends were the most important things there were."
"Friends are important," Ray said.
"Yes," Benton agreed, "but there are things much more important than being liked and impressing others, Ray."
Ray merely grunted in response.
At any rate, Michael McMann had had a supply of marijuana cigarettes from somewhere, and Benton had joined Michael and his friends in their hideout out behind the library. He didn't care for it, and they stopped asking him to join them in their activity. He was invited at the Depot, as well, but the other cadets there quickly decided he was "priggish" and "boring."
"I smoked pot in Jimmy Wojcik's basement every week for ten years," Ray said, giving Benton an odd look.
Benton sighed and said, "Ray, I believe you are missing the point of this story."
Ray merely scowled down into his cup of coffee.
Benton bit his lip and ventured on, resting his elbows on the Consulate table and leaning forward. "You see, Ray--"
"Fraser, believe me, I get it!" Ray wasn't quite yelling, but he wasn't far off. He slammed down his coffee cup and glared straight at Fraser. "I get it, okay, you're clear like crystal. Am I supposed to be surprised? You're a good kid, you don't do anything that's bad for you, you're straight and narrow -- jeez, is this some sort of Mountie thing, you got ro rub it in, stamp it out--"
Ray was rambling to himself. While he ranted on, Benton quietly got out of his chair and walked around the table, stopping to lean on the edge nearest Ray's seat.
Ray cut himself off in mid-sentence to look up at him.
"What?"
"Ray," said Benton, setting his hand gently on Ray's shoulder, "may I kiss you?"
Ray did not immediately respond, but he didn't move or back away as Benton leaned in and pressed his lips against Ray's. Ray's lips were softer than one would think to see him; his mouth tasted strongly of coffee and faintly of chocolate; when Benton stroked his other hand against Ray's face, Ray's cheek was rough with stubble.
Benton turned his head. Ray's neck smelled like sweat, and the leather from his jacket. "Ray," Benton whispered, "that wasn't the point of the story at all."
Ray made a noise, not quite a laugh nor a snort, and said something that sounded like, "Yeah, I guess not."
"I don't live my life for other people. That's not -- I don't care what people think of me." Benton took a deep breath, and forced himself to let go of Ray, to unfold himself, to take a step back.
Ray looked mildly rumpled and more than mildly dumbfounded.
"I-- that was what I wanted to tell you. That was all," Benton finished, feeling stupid.
Ray stared at him for a long moment, and Benton concentrated on not fidgeting under his gaze.
"So what you're telling me," Ray said, finally, when Benton had begun to wonder if he would say anything at all, "you're telling me the fact of the deal is that you want this."
"Yes," said Benton.
"You want this and you're loud and proud because you really sunk into those peer pressure afternoon specials when you were a kid and now you just got to stay true to yourself."
"In point of fact, Ray--"
Ray held up one finger and made a shushing noise.
"Yes," said Benton.
Ray slouched back in his chair, stretching his foot out against the table leg. He grinned up at Benton -- a wicked smile, a beautiful smile, Benton thought. "And drugs are bad," Ray said.
"Well, yes, Ray," Benton said, and when Ray laughed to himself, Benton stepped forward once more, and this time he didn't ask before kissing Ray once more.
"At that time," he explained to Ray, who looked skeptical, "I still believed that friends were the most important things there were."
"Friends are important," Ray said.
"Yes," Benton agreed, "but there are things much more important than being liked and impressing others, Ray."
Ray merely grunted in response.
At any rate, Michael McMann had had a supply of marijuana cigarettes from somewhere, and Benton had joined Michael and his friends in their hideout out behind the library. He didn't care for it, and they stopped asking him to join them in their activity. He was invited at the Depot, as well, but the other cadets there quickly decided he was "priggish" and "boring."
"I smoked pot in Jimmy Wojcik's basement every week for ten years," Ray said, giving Benton an odd look.
Benton sighed and said, "Ray, I believe you are missing the point of this story."
Ray merely scowled down into his cup of coffee.
Benton bit his lip and ventured on, resting his elbows on the Consulate table and leaning forward. "You see, Ray--"
"Fraser, believe me, I get it!" Ray wasn't quite yelling, but he wasn't far off. He slammed down his coffee cup and glared straight at Fraser. "I get it, okay, you're clear like crystal. Am I supposed to be surprised? You're a good kid, you don't do anything that's bad for you, you're straight and narrow -- jeez, is this some sort of Mountie thing, you got ro rub it in, stamp it out--"
Ray was rambling to himself. While he ranted on, Benton quietly got out of his chair and walked around the table, stopping to lean on the edge nearest Ray's seat.
Ray cut himself off in mid-sentence to look up at him.
"What?"
"Ray," said Benton, setting his hand gently on Ray's shoulder, "may I kiss you?"
Ray did not immediately respond, but he didn't move or back away as Benton leaned in and pressed his lips against Ray's. Ray's lips were softer than one would think to see him; his mouth tasted strongly of coffee and faintly of chocolate; when Benton stroked his other hand against Ray's face, Ray's cheek was rough with stubble.
Benton turned his head. Ray's neck smelled like sweat, and the leather from his jacket. "Ray," Benton whispered, "that wasn't the point of the story at all."
Ray made a noise, not quite a laugh nor a snort, and said something that sounded like, "Yeah, I guess not."
"I don't live my life for other people. That's not -- I don't care what people think of me." Benton took a deep breath, and forced himself to let go of Ray, to unfold himself, to take a step back.
Ray looked mildly rumpled and more than mildly dumbfounded.
"I-- that was what I wanted to tell you. That was all," Benton finished, feeling stupid.
Ray stared at him for a long moment, and Benton concentrated on not fidgeting under his gaze.
"So what you're telling me," Ray said, finally, when Benton had begun to wonder if he would say anything at all, "you're telling me the fact of the deal is that you want this."
"Yes," said Benton.
"You want this and you're loud and proud because you really sunk into those peer pressure afternoon specials when you were a kid and now you just got to stay true to yourself."
"In point of fact, Ray--"
Ray held up one finger and made a shushing noise.
"Yes," said Benton.
Ray slouched back in his chair, stretching his foot out against the table leg. He grinned up at Benton -- a wicked smile, a beautiful smile, Benton thought. "And drugs are bad," Ray said.
"Well, yes, Ray," Benton said, and when Ray laughed to himself, Benton stepped forward once more, and this time he didn't ask before kissing Ray once more.
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