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crack_van2007-11-30 10:28 pm
nos4a2no9.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2007-11-30 10:28 pm
Four Ways Benton Fraser and Ray Kowalski Never Met, and One Way They Did by Lyra Sena
Four Ways Benton Fraser and Ray Kowalski Never Met, and One Way They Did by Lyra Sena (NC-17)
Fandom: DUE SOUTH
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Author's Website: Lyra Sena's due South Fanfiction
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lyra_sena
Why this must be read:
I'm going to wrap up my tenure behind the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
crack_van wheel by reccing a story that, at the outset, probably doesn't seem all that extraordinary. The "five things" format is a bit of a staple among fic writers, and if you read one you've probably read a thousand. Lyra's subject matter is pretty self-evident: the title says it all. Fraser and Ray meet in a meat-packing plant, at the courthouse, in an alley, on the schoolyard, and at the airport. What I find so unique about this story is the way in which it presents a whole host of possibilities for Fraser and Ray. Entire universes collapse and expand in this fic: we see how very differently things might have gone for our Boys, and how their lives could have changed or been altered in some fundamental way by circumstance or the tiniest shift in individual choice. I love stories that offer a different perspective on the characters, and "Four Ways..." does exactly that.
We see Ray inheriting his father's role on the packing line, and two lonely children extending awkward offers of friendship; a tragic, pointless death sealed with a benediction, and finally a new relationship formed in a rather surprising twist of events. Each story offers wonderful, heartbreaking, funny and bittersweet moments that could sustain an epic. Instead, we're offered brief flashes of insight into different facets of Ray and Fraser's relationship, and a satisfying conclusion to these five could-have-beens.
Benton’s first day of school in America – no, Chicago – passed quickly, thankfully. The classes were much different than he was used to – for one thing, there were lots of kids all crammed into stuffy classrooms, and the teachers seemed to yell a lot. Apparently American kids had a fascination with spitballs, and Benton was lucky he had leaned over to pick up his pencil from the floor when a big one landed on his desk. He hadn’t bothered to look around to find the perpetrator; the teacher was in the middle of talking about Native Americans and the Trail of Tears, and Benton had wanted to know more, since they didn’t teach that in Inuvik.
Instead, he pulled out his handkerchief – his grandfather’s handkerchief – and wiped away the slime of paper. A thread from the cotton handkerchief snagged on the edge of the desk, and Benton ran his fingers over the wood, feeling carved indentations under his fingertips. He traced them carefully, and made out letters: S – no. R and… K? He was halfway leaning over to actually look when the bell clanged loudly, immediately drowned out by scraping chairs and stomping feet. He jumped up along with the rest of the kids – everyone moved so quickly – and as he’d been all day, was jostled along into the hall...
When the final bell rang at the end of the day, Benton had already outlined a plan to persuade his grandmother to teach him at home during their stay in Chicago. The classes were boring except for American History, and the other students were not exactly nice. He hadn’t made a single friend – he hadn’t even properly met anyone at all except the lady with the bosom and the gnarled smile. He sighed and slumped against the stone wall surrounding the schoolyard.
Grandmother, he was sure, would just tell him to try harder the next day, and he would have to come back here and do this all over again, and again the next day, and so on and so on until they went back home to Canada.
Settling cross-legged in the grass, he began rummaging through his backpack for his book when he smelled smoke. He looked up and around, sniffing the air. It was – cigarette smoke. He wrinkled his nose and stood up, peering over the top of the wall. Three pairs of surprised eyes looked back at him, and suddenly there was a flurry of movement.
“Shit, put it out!” one of them exclaimed, while a second one growled at him, “Either get over here or scram, kid, you’re gonna give us away.”
Benton stood there staring at them, until the other one – a kid with blond hair stuck flat to his head and dark thick glasses clinging to his nose – demanded, “Well?”
“O—okay,” and he scooped up his backpack, swung it over, and heard it plop to the ground. He easily straddled the wall, landing on the other side in front of the three boys, and palmed his shirt smooth.
“My name is Benton Fraser,” he stated. “I’m from Canada.”
The kid with dark curly hair and torn t-shirt looked at him and rolled his eyes. “Good for you,” he said with a grunt. “You want a smoke or what?”
“Ah, no, no thank you,” Benton stammered. “I don’t – that is, I’ve never actually – ”
“Oh c’mon, you little pussy, have one,” and a lit cigarette was stuck under Benton’s nose. He stumbled back a step, and into the wall.
The blond kid pushed his glasses up with one finger and muttered, “Leave him alone, Joe, Christ. So he doesn’t want a smoke, big deal,” and then he turned and flashed a small smile at Benton, but it was a genuine smile, a real smile, the first Benton had seen all day.
Benton smiled back, broadly.
“Oh yeah, Kowalski, go on, stick up for him. Little fag can’t even handle a smoke,” Joe said with disgust. “C’mon, Pauly, let’s get outta here.” He smirked and sauntered backwards, tugging on Pauly’s arm. “Have fun with your new boyfriend, Kowalski,” he leered, and they both turned and loped away.
“Guys, wait…he just – ” Kowalski called after them, half raising his arm.
Fraser twisted the collar of his shirt through his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll – I can leave,” he offered to Kowalski’s back.
Kowalski sighed and turned toward Benton, shuffling his feet before he kicked at the ground.
Benton tried again. “I’m sorry if I – if I made your friends mad at you,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
The other boy shrugged one shoulder and raised his head. “They’re assholes anyway.”
“Okay,” Benton replied and they both stood there, looking at each other.
Four Ways Benton Fraser and Ray Kowalski Never Met, and One Way They Did
Well, that's it from me this month.isiscolo is taking over things in Decemberin January (after "small fandoms" month), and as the lady takes her reccing seriously I know I'll be leaving the due South crack_van in good hands. Thank you kindly for reading and offering some feedback on the recs. I hope I've pointed you in the direction of a few good yarns. Stay frosty, kiddos!
Fandom: DUE SOUTH
Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski
Author's Website: Lyra Sena's due South Fanfiction
Author on LJ:
lyra_senaWhy this must be read:
I'm going to wrap up my tenure behind the
crack_van wheel by reccing a story that, at the outset, probably doesn't seem all that extraordinary. The "five things" format is a bit of a staple among fic writers, and if you read one you've probably read a thousand. Lyra's subject matter is pretty self-evident: the title says it all. Fraser and Ray meet in a meat-packing plant, at the courthouse, in an alley, on the schoolyard, and at the airport. What I find so unique about this story is the way in which it presents a whole host of possibilities for Fraser and Ray. Entire universes collapse and expand in this fic: we see how very differently things might have gone for our Boys, and how their lives could have changed or been altered in some fundamental way by circumstance or the tiniest shift in individual choice. I love stories that offer a different perspective on the characters, and "Four Ways..." does exactly that.We see Ray inheriting his father's role on the packing line, and two lonely children extending awkward offers of friendship; a tragic, pointless death sealed with a benediction, and finally a new relationship formed in a rather surprising twist of events. Each story offers wonderful, heartbreaking, funny and bittersweet moments that could sustain an epic. Instead, we're offered brief flashes of insight into different facets of Ray and Fraser's relationship, and a satisfying conclusion to these five could-have-beens.
Benton’s first day of school in America – no, Chicago – passed quickly, thankfully. The classes were much different than he was used to – for one thing, there were lots of kids all crammed into stuffy classrooms, and the teachers seemed to yell a lot. Apparently American kids had a fascination with spitballs, and Benton was lucky he had leaned over to pick up his pencil from the floor when a big one landed on his desk. He hadn’t bothered to look around to find the perpetrator; the teacher was in the middle of talking about Native Americans and the Trail of Tears, and Benton had wanted to know more, since they didn’t teach that in Inuvik.
Instead, he pulled out his handkerchief – his grandfather’s handkerchief – and wiped away the slime of paper. A thread from the cotton handkerchief snagged on the edge of the desk, and Benton ran his fingers over the wood, feeling carved indentations under his fingertips. He traced them carefully, and made out letters: S – no. R and… K? He was halfway leaning over to actually look when the bell clanged loudly, immediately drowned out by scraping chairs and stomping feet. He jumped up along with the rest of the kids – everyone moved so quickly – and as he’d been all day, was jostled along into the hall...
When the final bell rang at the end of the day, Benton had already outlined a plan to persuade his grandmother to teach him at home during their stay in Chicago. The classes were boring except for American History, and the other students were not exactly nice. He hadn’t made a single friend – he hadn’t even properly met anyone at all except the lady with the bosom and the gnarled smile. He sighed and slumped against the stone wall surrounding the schoolyard.
Grandmother, he was sure, would just tell him to try harder the next day, and he would have to come back here and do this all over again, and again the next day, and so on and so on until they went back home to Canada.
Settling cross-legged in the grass, he began rummaging through his backpack for his book when he smelled smoke. He looked up and around, sniffing the air. It was – cigarette smoke. He wrinkled his nose and stood up, peering over the top of the wall. Three pairs of surprised eyes looked back at him, and suddenly there was a flurry of movement.
“Shit, put it out!” one of them exclaimed, while a second one growled at him, “Either get over here or scram, kid, you’re gonna give us away.”
Benton stood there staring at them, until the other one – a kid with blond hair stuck flat to his head and dark thick glasses clinging to his nose – demanded, “Well?”
“O—okay,” and he scooped up his backpack, swung it over, and heard it plop to the ground. He easily straddled the wall, landing on the other side in front of the three boys, and palmed his shirt smooth.
“My name is Benton Fraser,” he stated. “I’m from Canada.”
The kid with dark curly hair and torn t-shirt looked at him and rolled his eyes. “Good for you,” he said with a grunt. “You want a smoke or what?”
“Ah, no, no thank you,” Benton stammered. “I don’t – that is, I’ve never actually – ”
“Oh c’mon, you little pussy, have one,” and a lit cigarette was stuck under Benton’s nose. He stumbled back a step, and into the wall.
The blond kid pushed his glasses up with one finger and muttered, “Leave him alone, Joe, Christ. So he doesn’t want a smoke, big deal,” and then he turned and flashed a small smile at Benton, but it was a genuine smile, a real smile, the first Benton had seen all day.
Benton smiled back, broadly.
“Oh yeah, Kowalski, go on, stick up for him. Little fag can’t even handle a smoke,” Joe said with disgust. “C’mon, Pauly, let’s get outta here.” He smirked and sauntered backwards, tugging on Pauly’s arm. “Have fun with your new boyfriend, Kowalski,” he leered, and they both turned and loped away.
“Guys, wait…he just – ” Kowalski called after them, half raising his arm.
Fraser twisted the collar of his shirt through his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll – I can leave,” he offered to Kowalski’s back.
Kowalski sighed and turned toward Benton, shuffling his feet before he kicked at the ground.
Benton tried again. “I’m sorry if I – if I made your friends mad at you,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
The other boy shrugged one shoulder and raised his head. “They’re assholes anyway.”
“Okay,” Benton replied and they both stood there, looking at each other.
Four Ways Benton Fraser and Ray Kowalski Never Met, and One Way They Did
Well, that's it from me this month.
isiscolo is taking over things
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And thanks for the great recs this month!
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