The Eskimo Thing by Merryish (NC-17)

[brynnmck.livejournal.com]

Hi! I'm brynnmck and I'll be driving the van for due South this month. I'm only about six months old in this fandom, and I've never been at the wheel of the Crack Van before, but what I lack in experience, I'm going to do my best to make up for in enthusiasm. Of which I have lots, both for this wonderful show and the fantastic writers who seem to be drawn to it. I'm a devoted Fraser/Vecchio shipper, so you can expect to see a fair amount of that this month, but I am also massively fond of Ray/Ray and Fraser/Vecchio/Kowalski, so I'll be giving all three of the boys some love in the coming days. (Or, you know, letting them give each other some love. Whatever.) And I plan to throw a couple of secondary characters in there to spice things up, too. So. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?


Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Fraser/Vecchio
Author on LJ: merryish
Author Website: Any Road

Why this must be read:

I am actually stunned that no one has recced this yet, and thrilled that I get to. This fic fills me with sheer delight; when I first read it, I literally left the browser window open for about a week on my laptop at home—I couldn't bear to close it and not have this story instantly accessible. I have six words for you: the Inuit made them do it. If that's not enticement enough, Merry's Vecchio POV is probably the best I've read, dry and world-weary and absolutely hysterical, with genuine feeling shining underneath. And her Fraser is equally wonderful, repressed and passionate and infuriating and sweet and Fraser, and it is a trial to try to choose a section as an excerpt because the entire thing is just filled with narrative gems. Here's a sample:


Two hours later, the sun had sunk behind a distant ridge and twilight filled the clearing in which they were still tied -- Fraser now with a dislocated shoulder -- to a tree. It hadn't been what Ray would've called warm to start with, but now it was downright chilly. Diefenbaker had either gone for help (according to Fraser) or fled the scene (Ray) around noon, and since help had not been forthcoming, Ray was pretty sure he was the better judge of wolf character in this instance. The ropes were cutting into his ribs and his arms and his thighs, he was getting a headache from dehydration and annoyance, and the mosquitoes had found them -- big honking mosquitoes with a yen for Italian food, apparently. He wanted, probably more than he'd ever wanted anything in his entire sorry life, to go home.

He'd spent the past two hours explaining that, at some length, to Benny, who was now slumped against the ropes on the other side of the tree, pretending to be asleep. Like anybody could sleep with all the cricket-chirping and owl-hooting and wolf-howling that was going on all around them. It made Ray miss the ambulances always coming and going to the hospital down the street from his house. Ambulances made noise because they wanted to help you. Canada, Ray was absolutely convinced, made noise because it wanted to eat you.


See what I mean? Fantastic. Funny and sweet and very hot, with the perfect touch of dS wackiness. Not to be missed.

Find it here: The Eskimo Thing

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Comments

[brynnmck.livejournal.com]

Yay, mine too! I'm glad you approve. :) Occasionally I consider abjectly groveling in front of Merry and begging her to write more dS fic, because. Yes. There needs to be more.