(flashfic) untitled Spezza / Emery
Untitled Ray Emery / Jason Spezza
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, it is untrue.
Rating: R
Ray assumed at first that any thought that Jason had was spoken, so it was a shock to see him writing things down. A bigger shock that he wouldn't share them.
'It's a shopping list!' Jason would protest, 'nothing important.' But he'd twist his body away and hunch over the paper so Ray couldn't read what he had written.
He never left these papers lying around, Ray looked without looking. He'd always take the chance to snoop if it arose, when he was looking for an address book he'd pick through the rest of the drawer, if he was looking for a pen he'd sneak a look in the rest of the desk.
He never found them but he found other scraps of Jason. Little pictures doodled on the margins of the business section of the newspaper, lists written on the back of receipts. Letters that other people sent to him, ones kids drew with crayon, ones sent to say thank you.
Sometimes when Jason touched him Ray would feel the force of all those words he hadn't heard -wouldn't hear - behind Jason's fingertips. Ray would wait, almost breathless, for Jason to share them.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, it is untrue.
Rating: R
Ray assumed at first that any thought that Jason had was spoken, so it was a shock to see him writing things down. A bigger shock that he wouldn't share them.
'It's a shopping list!' Jason would protest, 'nothing important.' But he'd twist his body away and hunch over the paper so Ray couldn't read what he had written.
He never left these papers lying around, Ray looked without looking. He'd always take the chance to snoop if it arose, when he was looking for an address book he'd pick through the rest of the drawer, if he was looking for a pen he'd sneak a look in the rest of the desk.
He never found them but he found other scraps of Jason. Little pictures doodled on the margins of the business section of the newspaper, lists written on the back of receipts. Letters that other people sent to him, ones kids drew with crayon, ones sent to say thank you.
Sometimes when Jason touched him Ray would feel the force of all those words he hadn't heard -wouldn't hear - behind Jason's fingertips. Ray would wait, almost breathless, for Jason to share them.