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crack_van2013-06-11 11:34 am
stars-inthe-sky.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2013-06-11 11:34 am
Entry tags:
"Ending on the Rhyme" by devlinacardigan (PG)
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Pairing: Donna Meagle/Jean-Ralphio Saperstein
Length: 2944 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
devlinacardigan
Author Website: Tumblr
Why this must be read: Okay, I know what the pairing says, but bear with me. It works. Told from Jean-Ralphio's inimitable perspective, this piece is an engaging mixture of sad and swag, and the guy has never been written better.
The calls start coming in twenty minutes after eight.
I got called into work. I think I might have Consumption. I actually have to leave the country. I'm not a hundred percent certain who you are.
Even Tom calls with some story of a chick picking him up in the Target's parking lot when he was on his way over and Jean-Ralphio lets them all off the hook as gracefully as he can. People are called in and have to leave town and don't know who he is all the time. There's nothing weird about that. They're not blowing him off. Obviously.
His palms are sweaty, so he rubs them on his slacks.
By ten, he's starting to wonder what he's going to do with all this food when the doorbell rings. He jumps up, practically runs to the door and when he throws it open, Donna's on the other side. "Hey, sexy!"
"Hi," she responds, distracted. There's no way she'd let him get away with that endearment if she hadn't been. "I thought I was lost. There were no other—" she looks into the apartment behind him, then at his face, then back into the apartment before gazing out at her Benz longingly like she's just realized this is a trap and she's trying to decide if she should make a run for it.
"Nope, you're at the right place," he assures, opening the door wider. He's not letting her get away. Not when she's already in front of him. Donna doesn't move and he looks out behind her, acting nervous. "You might want to hurry. I live close to the border and the raccoons around here can get pretty hostile."
She almost knocks him down on her way in and Jean-Ralphio checks twice to make sure the door's locked. Not just to make sure she stays inside, either. Closing it isn't enough to keep them out; they've got human thumbs. He saw it on TV. She goes to the window and twitches his curtain aside. "My car will be okay, right?"
The memory of his neighbor's destroyed Subaru pops to the forefront of his mind. But that dude had tried to call pest control on the raccoon living in his attic and pissed them all off. Jean-Ralphio knew better than that. If you didn't start with them, they didn't start with you and as long as you left out your weekly tribute (it could be a head of lettuce, fish bones, the one who lived closest to him seemed to like carrots), you were fine.
Ending on the Rhyme
Pairing: Donna Meagle/Jean-Ralphio Saperstein
Length: 2944 words
Author on LJ:
devlinacardiganAuthor Website: Tumblr
Why this must be read: Okay, I know what the pairing says, but bear with me. It works. Told from Jean-Ralphio's inimitable perspective, this piece is an engaging mixture of sad and swag, and the guy has never been written better.
The calls start coming in twenty minutes after eight.
I got called into work. I think I might have Consumption. I actually have to leave the country. I'm not a hundred percent certain who you are.
Even Tom calls with some story of a chick picking him up in the Target's parking lot when he was on his way over and Jean-Ralphio lets them all off the hook as gracefully as he can. People are called in and have to leave town and don't know who he is all the time. There's nothing weird about that. They're not blowing him off. Obviously.
His palms are sweaty, so he rubs them on his slacks.
By ten, he's starting to wonder what he's going to do with all this food when the doorbell rings. He jumps up, practically runs to the door and when he throws it open, Donna's on the other side. "Hey, sexy!"
"Hi," she responds, distracted. There's no way she'd let him get away with that endearment if she hadn't been. "I thought I was lost. There were no other—" she looks into the apartment behind him, then at his face, then back into the apartment before gazing out at her Benz longingly like she's just realized this is a trap and she's trying to decide if she should make a run for it.
"Nope, you're at the right place," he assures, opening the door wider. He's not letting her get away. Not when she's already in front of him. Donna doesn't move and he looks out behind her, acting nervous. "You might want to hurry. I live close to the border and the raccoons around here can get pretty hostile."
She almost knocks him down on her way in and Jean-Ralphio checks twice to make sure the door's locked. Not just to make sure she stays inside, either. Closing it isn't enough to keep them out; they've got human thumbs. He saw it on TV. She goes to the window and twitches his curtain aside. "My car will be okay, right?"
The memory of his neighbor's destroyed Subaru pops to the forefront of his mind. But that dude had tried to call pest control on the raccoon living in his attic and pissed them all off. Jean-Ralphio knew better than that. If you didn't start with them, they didn't start with you and as long as you left out your weekly tribute (it could be a head of lettuce, fish bones, the one who lived closest to him seemed to like carrots), you were fine.
Ending on the Rhyme