For the Depot Challenge, by DancesWithChopstick
Title: Outsider
Pairing: F/K but preslash
Rating: PG-13?
Size: Under 500 words
One night on a stakeout, as we sat in the dim twilight of the car, Ray said to me, "Tell me about the Depot."
I shrugged. "There were lectures, examinations, practical training exercises, and socializing with my peers. I performed well academically and physically, but I was not well-prepared for the social environment. Prior to my enrollment, I had never been in prolonged association with so many people of my age, and I found it unexpectedly lonely."
"You, uh, didn't fit in?"
"Not at all, Ray."
"What was the problem?"
"There were several problems: my old-fashioned manners, my rudimentary social skills, my considerable naïveté... but I think the most basic problem was that my life had been greatly transformed by the proximity of death, and most of their lives had not. At times, that seemed an almost insuperable barrier to understanding."
"So what did you do about it?"
"What could I have done? I endured it. I improved my social skills as best I could. I discovered that one of my classmates had also had a parent die young, and partnered with him whenever possible. We weren't friends, but we both had knowledge that we couldn't speak freely about, and there was a bond, of sorts, in that."
"Sounds pretty grim."
"Oh, not entirely, Ray. I enjoyed the academic and physical challenges."
"Anybody jump your bones?"
"Ah. No. Unless you mean wrestling or other rough-housing for non-sexual purposes."
"You 'rough-housed'?"
"I defended myself on a few occasions."
"You got beat up? Why?"
"I suppose I was too different--a simple dynamic of the pack rejecting an outsider."
"Yeah, that can happen." Ray's voice was quiet. "Do Canadians call their outsiders nasty names?"
"It's been known to happen."
"Happen to you?"
A bark of bitter laughter escaped me. "Oh, yes."
Ray shifted uneasily. "I was a skinny kid. I figure I started out friendly, but there's only so many times you can be called 'wimp' and 'pussy' and 'fag' before you gotta do something to get yourself an edge."
I sighed. "Yes."
"They call you those things?"
"The local equivalents. There were accusations of currying favor with the teachers, as well."
"What--a 'bring the teacher an apple' kind of thing?"
"No. A 'suck off the teacher in private' kind of thing."
"Jeez."
"Yes. And the strange thing was, I firmly believe every single teacher at the Depot would have rejected such an offer--from any student."
"Fraser. That's not a normal thing to say. A normal guy woulda said, 'Catch me sucking anyone's dick, ever!'"
I sighed. "I've never been 'normal,' Ray."
Ray sat quietly for some time. "So did you ever?"
"Did I ever what, Ray?"
"Suck a guy off. Not a teacher."
"So far, no."
"But you might."
"In the right circumstances, I might."
Ray let out a breath. "Yeah." After a moment, very quietly, he said, "Same here."
I nodded. Then a light appeared in the building that we were watching, and the moment passed. But I would have much to think about in the morning.
Pairing: F/K but preslash
Rating: PG-13?
Size: Under 500 words
One night on a stakeout, as we sat in the dim twilight of the car, Ray said to me, "Tell me about the Depot."
I shrugged. "There were lectures, examinations, practical training exercises, and socializing with my peers. I performed well academically and physically, but I was not well-prepared for the social environment. Prior to my enrollment, I had never been in prolonged association with so many people of my age, and I found it unexpectedly lonely."
"You, uh, didn't fit in?"
"Not at all, Ray."
"What was the problem?"
"There were several problems: my old-fashioned manners, my rudimentary social skills, my considerable naïveté... but I think the most basic problem was that my life had been greatly transformed by the proximity of death, and most of their lives had not. At times, that seemed an almost insuperable barrier to understanding."
"So what did you do about it?"
"What could I have done? I endured it. I improved my social skills as best I could. I discovered that one of my classmates had also had a parent die young, and partnered with him whenever possible. We weren't friends, but we both had knowledge that we couldn't speak freely about, and there was a bond, of sorts, in that."
"Sounds pretty grim."
"Oh, not entirely, Ray. I enjoyed the academic and physical challenges."
"Anybody jump your bones?"
"Ah. No. Unless you mean wrestling or other rough-housing for non-sexual purposes."
"You 'rough-housed'?"
"I defended myself on a few occasions."
"You got beat up? Why?"
"I suppose I was too different--a simple dynamic of the pack rejecting an outsider."
"Yeah, that can happen." Ray's voice was quiet. "Do Canadians call their outsiders nasty names?"
"It's been known to happen."
"Happen to you?"
A bark of bitter laughter escaped me. "Oh, yes."
Ray shifted uneasily. "I was a skinny kid. I figure I started out friendly, but there's only so many times you can be called 'wimp' and 'pussy' and 'fag' before you gotta do something to get yourself an edge."
I sighed. "Yes."
"They call you those things?"
"The local equivalents. There were accusations of currying favor with the teachers, as well."
"What--a 'bring the teacher an apple' kind of thing?"
"No. A 'suck off the teacher in private' kind of thing."
"Jeez."
"Yes. And the strange thing was, I firmly believe every single teacher at the Depot would have rejected such an offer--from any student."
"Fraser. That's not a normal thing to say. A normal guy woulda said, 'Catch me sucking anyone's dick, ever!'"
I sighed. "I've never been 'normal,' Ray."
Ray sat quietly for some time. "So did you ever?"
"Did I ever what, Ray?"
"Suck a guy off. Not a teacher."
"So far, no."
"But you might."
"In the right circumstances, I might."
Ray let out a breath. "Yeah." After a moment, very quietly, he said, "Same here."
I nodded. Then a light appeared in the building that we were watching, and the moment passed. But I would have much to think about in the morning.