c6dvd reveal
I don't usually claim my c6dvd stuff, because I'm kind of in love with the mystery of it all. But this is pretty much the only fandom/creative thing I've done in AGES and it made me ridiculously happy to play. So, I made the one with the cars. You're all SHOCKED, I can tell. =P Blame miz for sending this prompt my way - she knows I have feeeeeeelings about cars, y'all. She KNEW I would pick this. She's the very best enabler. =)
Made for Seascribe for the prompt: Due South: GTO/Riv
It ended up being Ray/Ray and tongue-in-cheek Riv/Goat
So what I sent was five envelopes, numbered because this needed to be revealed in stages:
Envelope #1 was some fic that set the stage:
Ray walks into the station and heads to his - okay, fine, their desk. Kowalski's already sitting there, tapping a pen on a legal pad and fidgeting. Ray knows he only had two cups of coffee at home, so he must have made himself more at the station. Ray sighs. He has no idea how Kowalski still manages to drink that vile break room stuff when he's had the good stuff at home. Ray's been doing his best to introduce him to the finer things, but maybe there's just no saving a man who was still drinking instant in his 30s. Ray throws his coat over the back of their visitor's chair and Kowalski starts babbling.
"Hey, hi. I was just thinking, we work too much. We should get out more, kick back a little. What do you say to dancing? Next Friday? I know it's not your favorite thing, but you've got nothing to worry about." He shoots a dirty grin in Ray's direction. "You've got moves, Vecchio."
Ray smirks at him a second, and then processes what he's heard. "Friday, are you out of your mind, Kowalski? Next Friday is Valentine's Day. There will be, like, a thousand couples out on the town, doing couple-y things. Like dancing. Jeez, can you imagine?" Ray shudders in horror. "That's the best thing about, you know, our thing. No chicks, no need to do that kind of stupid crap for Valentine's Day. We get to treat it like a regular Friday - grab take out, go home, watch basketball, drink beer, and maybe fool around a bit. All without the asinine pressures to turn a Saint's day into some pink fluffy commercialized test for your relationship, amiright? No cards, no flowers, no stress."
Ray looks over to share the joke and see Kowalski's wry smirk. But instead, his face looks pinched and his cheeks are slightly pink. He's rubbing the back of his neck and won't make eye contact. Then Kowalski starts talking loudly about how they have crimes to solve and shoving things into the top drawer of their desk. Ray isn't a bad detective by any stretch of the imagination, so he knows he's stepped in something. He's dying to get a look in that desk drawer, but Kowalski's standing there in his jacket, jingling his keys and rolling his eyes. Ray narrows his eyes at him and grabs his coat. He'll get to the bottom of this.
* * *
He finds the tickets shoved in the very back of their desk drawer. Kowalski had bought a Valentine's Day package deal. Dinner and dancing at the Crystal ballroom. Kowalski was such a romantic. Ray sighs. He used to be romantic too. What has happened to him that it didn't even occur to him to make the effort this year? He is taking Kowalski, of all people, for granted. Kowalski, who always wears his heart on his sleeve - something Ray just can't do anymore. But Kowalski still manages to pull off that shy, vulnerable optimism, even though he'd been kicked in the teeth by love a time or two himself. Ray starts planning.
Envelop #2 is RayK's take on things:
Ray had gone boxing after work and, as usual, it's helped him get his head on straight, get his perspective back. The sting of rejection is gone. It's not that Vecchio doesn't want to be with him, or be seen with him. It's just that they have their own thing, a thing that's comfortable and solid and doesn't need to be written down to be real. What does it matter if they don't go dancing on Friday? He gets to come home every night to Vecchio's jacket in the closet, and his Italian leather loafers by the door; he gets chased out of the kitchen every day by an excellent cook, and he gets to go to bed with a sexy, snarky, smart man every night. Things are just fine, and they're happy.
Ray rushes up the last half-flight of stairs to their apartment, still humming with energy from his workout, eager to see what Vecchio has planned for dinner this evening. He stops short when he reaches their place. There's a card taped to the door.
And this is what he finds (envelope #3):
And then... (envelope #4):
Ray's caught between lust and laughter as he reads the card. He unlocks the door to their place. Something in the kitchen smells amazing and Frank Sinatra is crooning softly on the radio. Ray kicks off his shoes and hangs his jacket. He starts toward the kitchen and something catches his eye on the counter. It looks like an ugly orange vase with a couple flowers in it, but there's something off about the whole thing. When Ray gets close enough to see clearly, he starts cackling. Rose stems are sticking up out of a base that's not a vase, but rather an oil filter.
"Nice floral arrangement, Vecchio. What do you call it, FRAM and Flowers? For the man who 'fuels' your fire?"
Vecchio steps out from the kitchen, drying his hands on a white towel. "The man? No. It's for the GTO."
Vecchio was trying for something between wry and annoyed, but Ray can see he is nervous.
Ray smiles. "The Riv's got it bad, huh? A card, flowers, and the car equivalent of chocolates - really going all out."
"Really, you're mocking?" Vecchio throws the towel over his shoulder and moves closer, stopping inches away from Ray's face. "This from the man with the spark plug-related tattoo?"
Ray swallows, his throat dry. "You love my tattoo."
"Not just your tattoo."
"And my car," Ray adds, joking.
"Not just your car," Vecchio responds in his soft, serious voice, eyes heavy and full.
Something in Ray's stomach turns over, and he feels a buzzing electricity surround the two of them. He lets a playful grin spread across his face. He reaches up and rubs his hand across Vecchio's jaw. "What's cookin', good lookin'?"
Vecchio answers with a sly, flirty smile. "Nothing that will burn." Vecchio closes the distance between them, pushing his tongue into Kowalski's mouth and shoving him back toward the couch.
And finally, envelope #5, which Vecchio finds propped up against the coffee maker the next morning:
Man, I love c6dvd. Can't wait to see what everyone else made!!
This entry was originally posted at my dreamwidth. Comments are welcome either place.
Made for Seascribe for the prompt: Due South: GTO/Riv
It ended up being Ray/Ray and tongue-in-cheek Riv/Goat
So what I sent was five envelopes, numbered because this needed to be revealed in stages:
Envelope #1 was some fic that set the stage:
Ray walks into the station and heads to his - okay, fine, their desk. Kowalski's already sitting there, tapping a pen on a legal pad and fidgeting. Ray knows he only had two cups of coffee at home, so he must have made himself more at the station. Ray sighs. He has no idea how Kowalski still manages to drink that vile break room stuff when he's had the good stuff at home. Ray's been doing his best to introduce him to the finer things, but maybe there's just no saving a man who was still drinking instant in his 30s. Ray throws his coat over the back of their visitor's chair and Kowalski starts babbling.
"Hey, hi. I was just thinking, we work too much. We should get out more, kick back a little. What do you say to dancing? Next Friday? I know it's not your favorite thing, but you've got nothing to worry about." He shoots a dirty grin in Ray's direction. "You've got moves, Vecchio."
Ray smirks at him a second, and then processes what he's heard. "Friday, are you out of your mind, Kowalski? Next Friday is Valentine's Day. There will be, like, a thousand couples out on the town, doing couple-y things. Like dancing. Jeez, can you imagine?" Ray shudders in horror. "That's the best thing about, you know, our thing. No chicks, no need to do that kind of stupid crap for Valentine's Day. We get to treat it like a regular Friday - grab take out, go home, watch basketball, drink beer, and maybe fool around a bit. All without the asinine pressures to turn a Saint's day into some pink fluffy commercialized test for your relationship, amiright? No cards, no flowers, no stress."
Ray looks over to share the joke and see Kowalski's wry smirk. But instead, his face looks pinched and his cheeks are slightly pink. He's rubbing the back of his neck and won't make eye contact. Then Kowalski starts talking loudly about how they have crimes to solve and shoving things into the top drawer of their desk. Ray isn't a bad detective by any stretch of the imagination, so he knows he's stepped in something. He's dying to get a look in that desk drawer, but Kowalski's standing there in his jacket, jingling his keys and rolling his eyes. Ray narrows his eyes at him and grabs his coat. He'll get to the bottom of this.
* * *
He finds the tickets shoved in the very back of their desk drawer. Kowalski had bought a Valentine's Day package deal. Dinner and dancing at the Crystal ballroom. Kowalski was such a romantic. Ray sighs. He used to be romantic too. What has happened to him that it didn't even occur to him to make the effort this year? He is taking Kowalski, of all people, for granted. Kowalski, who always wears his heart on his sleeve - something Ray just can't do anymore. But Kowalski still manages to pull off that shy, vulnerable optimism, even though he'd been kicked in the teeth by love a time or two himself. Ray starts planning.
Envelop #2 is RayK's take on things:
Ray had gone boxing after work and, as usual, it's helped him get his head on straight, get his perspective back. The sting of rejection is gone. It's not that Vecchio doesn't want to be with him, or be seen with him. It's just that they have their own thing, a thing that's comfortable and solid and doesn't need to be written down to be real. What does it matter if they don't go dancing on Friday? He gets to come home every night to Vecchio's jacket in the closet, and his Italian leather loafers by the door; he gets chased out of the kitchen every day by an excellent cook, and he gets to go to bed with a sexy, snarky, smart man every night. Things are just fine, and they're happy.
Ray rushes up the last half-flight of stairs to their apartment, still humming with energy from his workout, eager to see what Vecchio has planned for dinner this evening. He stops short when he reaches their place. There's a card taped to the door.
And this is what he finds (envelope #3):
And then... (envelope #4):
Ray's caught between lust and laughter as he reads the card. He unlocks the door to their place. Something in the kitchen smells amazing and Frank Sinatra is crooning softly on the radio. Ray kicks off his shoes and hangs his jacket. He starts toward the kitchen and something catches his eye on the counter. It looks like an ugly orange vase with a couple flowers in it, but there's something off about the whole thing. When Ray gets close enough to see clearly, he starts cackling. Rose stems are sticking up out of a base that's not a vase, but rather an oil filter.
"Nice floral arrangement, Vecchio. What do you call it, FRAM and Flowers? For the man who 'fuels' your fire?"
Vecchio steps out from the kitchen, drying his hands on a white towel. "The man? No. It's for the GTO."
Vecchio was trying for something between wry and annoyed, but Ray can see he is nervous.
Ray smiles. "The Riv's got it bad, huh? A card, flowers, and the car equivalent of chocolates - really going all out."
"Really, you're mocking?" Vecchio throws the towel over his shoulder and moves closer, stopping inches away from Ray's face. "This from the man with the spark plug-related tattoo?"
Ray swallows, his throat dry. "You love my tattoo."
"Not just your tattoo."
"And my car," Ray adds, joking.
"Not just your car," Vecchio responds in his soft, serious voice, eyes heavy and full.
Something in Ray's stomach turns over, and he feels a buzzing electricity surround the two of them. He lets a playful grin spread across his face. He reaches up and rubs his hand across Vecchio's jaw. "What's cookin', good lookin'?"
Vecchio answers with a sly, flirty smile. "Nothing that will burn." Vecchio closes the distance between them, pushing his tongue into Kowalski's mouth and shoving him back toward the couch.
And finally, envelope #5, which Vecchio finds propped up against the coffee maker the next morning:
Man, I love c6dvd. Can't wait to see what everyone else made!!
This entry was originally posted at my dreamwidth. Comments are welcome either place.