ext_11421 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
brynnmck.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2007-05-30 09:04 am
brynnmck.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2007-05-30 09:04 am
Florida by BrooklineGirl (NC-17)
Fandom: Due South
Pairing: Vecchio/Kowalski
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brooklinegirl
Author Website: BrooklineGirl's due South page
Why this must be read:
This isn't an uncommon setup: things have gone south (so to speak) with Fraser and Stella, and both Rays are drunk and miserable and realize that they have a shocking/depressing/amusing number of things in common, so maybe they should be drunk and somewhat-less-miserable together. (And hot. Let us not forget the hot.) What makes this fic exceptional is the execution. The atmosphere is absolutely brilliant; Florida just seeps off the page, all sticky heat and stagnation and overexposed colors, and you're completely enveloped before you realize it. The progression of the relationship is very deftly handled, a compelling and believable combination of hesitant steps and sudden leaps forward and stumbles backward. And did I mention the hot? Because these boys are really freaking hot together, and BLG brings that with the best of them. This is an angstier piece than some of my other recommendations, but it's to a purpose, and there's a surprisingly hopeful, possibility-filled ending that feels well-earned and just exactly right.
An excerpt:
He leans unsteadily against the counter in the kitchen. The lights are off, but the goddamn sky is so clear that the moon shines in through the window over the sink like it's some sort of grayish daytime. You didn't even get real nighttime in Florida. You got nothing real in Florida. You got pink brick and fake sand and none of the bodies were anything close to how God made 'em: they were full of silicone or like beef jerky, one or the other. You got heat when it was supposed to be cold and hail when it was supposed to be hot and he's all fucked up, all so goddamn mixed up here.
It's autumn here in Florida and the leaves aren't changing.
What the fuck is he doing here?
The phone rings as he reaches for the bottle again. He stares at it, then at the clock on the wall. He can't bring it into focus, but it had been pretty damn late when he left the alley. Too late for phone calls, and fuck, he can't remember the last time the damn thing rang.
He picks up the phone with a weird sense of whimsy, because who the fuck would be calling him?
"Yeah."
There's a long pause, and then, "Let me talk to Stella." Abrupt. Rude. Rough.
Kowalski.
Ray snorts into the phone. "Right."
Find it here: Florida
If you enjoy the story, don't forget to leave feedback!
Pairing: Vecchio/Kowalski
Author on LJ:
brooklinegirlAuthor Website: BrooklineGirl's due South page
Why this must be read:
This isn't an uncommon setup: things have gone south (so to speak) with Fraser and Stella, and both Rays are drunk and miserable and realize that they have a shocking/depressing/amusing number of things in common, so maybe they should be drunk and somewhat-less-miserable together. (And hot. Let us not forget the hot.) What makes this fic exceptional is the execution. The atmosphere is absolutely brilliant; Florida just seeps off the page, all sticky heat and stagnation and overexposed colors, and you're completely enveloped before you realize it. The progression of the relationship is very deftly handled, a compelling and believable combination of hesitant steps and sudden leaps forward and stumbles backward. And did I mention the hot? Because these boys are really freaking hot together, and BLG brings that with the best of them. This is an angstier piece than some of my other recommendations, but it's to a purpose, and there's a surprisingly hopeful, possibility-filled ending that feels well-earned and just exactly right.
An excerpt:
He leans unsteadily against the counter in the kitchen. The lights are off, but the goddamn sky is so clear that the moon shines in through the window over the sink like it's some sort of grayish daytime. You didn't even get real nighttime in Florida. You got nothing real in Florida. You got pink brick and fake sand and none of the bodies were anything close to how God made 'em: they were full of silicone or like beef jerky, one or the other. You got heat when it was supposed to be cold and hail when it was supposed to be hot and he's all fucked up, all so goddamn mixed up here.
It's autumn here in Florida and the leaves aren't changing.
What the fuck is he doing here?
The phone rings as he reaches for the bottle again. He stares at it, then at the clock on the wall. He can't bring it into focus, but it had been pretty damn late when he left the alley. Too late for phone calls, and fuck, he can't remember the last time the damn thing rang.
He picks up the phone with a weird sense of whimsy, because who the fuck would be calling him?
"Yeah."
There's a long pause, and then, "Let me talk to Stella." Abrupt. Rude. Rough.
Kowalski.
Ray snorts into the phone. "Right."
Find it here: Florida
If you enjoy the story, don't forget to leave feedback!
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