mrsronweasley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mrsronweasley) wrote2006-05-13 02:14 pm
mrsronweasley) wrote2006-05-13 02:14 pm
Drabble on drabble.
The drabbles from yesterday. Combined two requests into one, in one of them... Otherwise...enjoy?
Kid!Fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
katrin:
"Dad, this won't work."
Ray looked up and squinted: Annie was looking at her feet with a vague kind of resentment, like it was their fault her skates weren't going on properly. Ray finished lacing up his and scootched up to her, leaning down and trying to see where the trouble was.
"Well, no kidding, sporto, your laces are all tied up in knots." He flicked at her nose with a finger and ignoring the indignified squeal that ran through his eardrums, leaned down to untangle her laces. He heard her breathing hard above him, trying not to cry from frustration.
He'd thought this would be fun - take her out for a skating lesson, get her to loosen up, forget about the puppy for a while. Clearly, it wasn't working. She was frustrated and they hadn't even started skating yet. Ben had told him the distraction wouldn't work - she was stubborn as a mule, that one - but Ray had wanted to give it a shot, anyway. If nothing else, it'd get her out of the house and away from the slightly creepy shrine she was making in the furball's memory. Looking at her, Alex had started to fuss and get upset, and once Alex got upset, the whole house would be up in arms, and Ray couldn't deal with that again. So, off he'd taken her, and her new skates, and Ben had just given him that sad, "you'll see I was right" look, and here they were: Annie practically crying over tangled laces, Ray trying hard not to lose it.
He sighed and untangled the last knot. He sat up, winced a bit at the protest his back was giving him, and looked at her face. She was sniffling, pointedly not looking at him, her eyes a bit red around the edges. Her hat had slipped back, and the curls poking out of it were slightly damp.
Ray took her hand and squeezed it with his own. "Come on, let's try this, yeah?" A pause. "Or do you wanna go home?"
She scrunched up her eyes, took a big sniffle and mumbled a low "No."
"No, you wanna try this, or no, you wanna go home?"
"Don't wanna go home." She was still looking down at her feet, and Ray could only go on his gut.
"Lessons, then?" He watched as she nodded her head and straightened her posture, like she was really fighting it for control. "Good. Okay. This will be fun, you'll see. Can you stand up now?"
Ray let go of her hand, got up, and tried to remain as steady as he could, while Annie stumbled off the bench and clung to him for balance. After a little while, she took a small step forward and onto the ice, still holding onto his jacket. He followed her slowly, trying to gauge how steady the ice was under her feet. The skates were new, and she would just be getting used to their tight hold.
He unclenched her hand from his jacket and held it in his. "Ready?"
Annie turned around and nodded. "Yeah, okay."
"'Atta girl." He grinned and took a slow slide forward. Annie mirrored his motion, and together, they began their first circle around the pond.
*
Gardino forbrooklinegirl, in which I took certain liberties, just for you:
"Everyone, shut the goddamn hell up!"
Welsh's voice boomed out across the entire classroom, and Louis flinched instinctively. He knew that eventually his superiors' loud voices would become something to ignore, or at least, not shit your pants over, but he was new to this whole academy thing, and Welsh was scary. So, he shut the goddamn hell up and faced the front of the room. Welsh was actually pretty young, he realized, but he had that "weary cop trying to ignore a crowd of civilians" look down pat. It made Louis want to not be a civilian that much more. Made him want to study and learn and become a cop, finally, so he could be looked upon as an equal. So that nobody would mispronounce his name ever again, or shorten it, or pet him, like his mother still did. He almost scowled as he thought of that, and puffed out his chest. Maybe he could grow a beard while he was at it. He scratched his smooth chin and cheeks. Yeah, being rough and smoking and drinking coffee and carrying a loaded pistol. He could do that. He was behind that a hundred percent.
Louis turned to the guy sitting next to him, watched him for any signs of weakness. He looked all right enough - about his age, scared shitless, like a young punk who found his way to a room full of cops by mistake. Well, not really a punk - maybe that was just the hair. It was kind of rebellious looking; definitely a little odd. Louis wondered if that guy would grow a beard, too. He kind of hoped he wouldn't - he'd look kind of dumb with a beard, or at least not as good as he did now. Louis caught his own thought and stoppered it. Looking down, he saw the guy had a wedding ring on. Yeah, okay, so that had been a near-weakness kind of moment right there. He'd have to watch himself. He counted up all the reasons he was here today, on his first day at the police academy. They all added up to one thing, and he grabbed it and stayed with it. He wouldn't stray from here on out. He'd study and learn and become a cop and learn to smoke and drink bad coffee and grow a beard and he'd make a life for himself. A real good life. And he'd have a real good partner, eventually, and he'd make Detective First Class, and everything would be good, then. A real good life.
He turned to the guy next to him, and whispered:
"Hey, I'm Louis. You new too, right? First year?"
The guy turned to him, a shock of a stare, burning right through him. "Yeah. I'm Ray. Good to meet you. Scary stuff, right?"
Louis swallowed around his dry tongue and grinned. "Yeah. Terrifying. Should be fun, though, yeah?"
Ray smiled and nodded. "Oh, yeah. A barrel-full."
*
Turtle!fic forbathsweaver + dorky!Ray for shihadchick:
Ray stared at the turtle in the tank. The turtle stared back. Ray blinked. So did the turtle. Ray turned to the gum-chewing kid who was assisting him - actually, he was looking at some cooing-over-puppy chick's ass - and pointed to the turtle: "This one. I'm gonna get this one."
The kid blew a bubble, snapped it, and gave a gusty sigh. "All right."
Ray stepped back to let the kid do his thing - unlock the tank, lift the cover, forget that he had to get a smaller tank first, close the cover, go somewhere for five minutes while Ray continued looking at the baby turtle and feeling small butterflies in his stomach, come back with a small tank filled with some water, spend two minutes trying to figure out where to put it, put it on the floor by Ray's feet, lift the cover, take out the turtle, put it in the small tank, close the cover and lock back the tank - and then he lifted the small tank with his new turtle and felt his cheeks lifting in a grin.
"Hey there, little fella. I'm Ray. We'll be good for each other, yeah?" Ray glanced over at the kid, who was now tapping his foot and rolling his eyes vaguely in Ray's direction, and paused. He was sounding like that chick over there, with the nice ass. Time to grow some. "Right, so, uh, where do I pay?"
The kid pointed towards the front of the store where a big sign clearly read "CASHIER: PAY HERE" and left Ray to puzzle out the rest. Ray sighed and looked at the turtle once more. It was gorgeous Box turtle, spotted yellow and green, and now it was Ray's. Finally, after years of mourning Skip, who died when Ray was fifteen, he could do this. He was ready. He was more than ready.
He smiled at the turtle and it smiled back. Ray'd already bought the perfect tank, and it was waiting for them back at his place, along with a month's supply of turtle food. "All right, you. Let's go home, okay? Got a treat for you."
The turtle stuck its head compeltely out of its shell and Ray could have sworn it nodded.
*
Turnbull forcabari:
Renfield was just dusting the last corner of the Queen's portrait in the upstairs hallway when he heard it. It was a rather startling crash, and at first, his ears did not discern the exact location of it - for he had been humming a rather jovial tune of his own composing, and considering his options in the polish to be used on the posts of the ancient bed situated in the Queen's bedroom. But soon enough, he heard another crash, this one definitely coming from the direction of Constable Fraser's office. Renfield gave the portrait in front of him an apologetic look, and after a moment's indecision, raced downstairs in the hopes of helping Constable Fraser alleviate any unpleasantness that might have been connected to the noises he had heard. After a near tumble down the last few steps, Renfield righted himself, skidded down and around the hall, and came to a halt in front of the closed door. He lifted his hand to knock, but then pressed his ear against the wood. Perhaps, if Constable Fraser was in some danger, Diefenbaker would let Renfield know with his barking. Such a smart, fascinating animal. The connection between him and Constable Fraser was quite stimulating to watch.
Renfield screwed up his eyes and concentrated on listening. He heard a groan first, then quiet laughter, then another, lower, slightly longer groan. Oh, dear. Perhaps the Constable had fallen and injured his head, and was now delirious. This required immediate medical assistance. Without further thought, Renfield turned the handle of the office door. It refused to be turned. He quickly deduced that the door was locked. This posed a serious problem, as Constable Fraser could very well be bleeding out of his head even as Renfield was trying his best to figure out a way to save him. Renfield decided that the time for courtesy was nearly past, and began pounding on the door with all of his strength.
"Constable Fraser, sir! Constable Fraser! Are you all right?" he called out. "Please unlock this door so we can get you assistance in whatever it is that has just conspired!" He paused to listen. All seemed completely, eerily quiet. He was just beginning to worry that he had lost the Constable to unconsciousness, when a familiar, and unexpected, voice called out:
"Go away, Turnbull!"
The voice belonged to Detective Ko- Vecchio, and Renfield's thoughts whirled. Perhaps Constable Fraser was not injured, after all. Ray was a good friend, and surely he wouldn't have-- pushed the Constable, or -- or even punched him in the head. But why wasn't the Constable talking? Renfield pounded on the door once again. "Constable Fraser, sir, I need you to answer me. Are - you - all - right - sir?"
"Turnbull." Ah, the Constable's voice this time. Renfield breathed easier. "Everything is completely under control. There is no cause for you to worry whatsoever. Everything is in good ha- hands, ah, and -- yes, Constable, you are free to do -- whatever it was you were doing, once more." Renfield heard another quiet groan. "Please," the Constable continued, "feel free to take your leave now."
Bidden to go by a superior officer, Renfield gave the door another worried look, and took his leave. The Queen's portrait needed dusting again. He picked up the polish on his way back to the second floor. Since Constable Fraser had told him, himself, that everything was in good hands, he had no choice but to believe him. However, he was still unsure about Ray's involvement in the situation. Well, no matter. They were probably shifting some archive boxes. Diefenbaker hadn't been heard, and he was quite a faithful pet. Really, sometimes Renfield found himself worrying needlessly. He had other things to focus on, he decided as he picked at another corner of the Queen's portrait. Things like cleaning wood, and polishing the posts of the bed, and keeping the Queen as happy as she could be, gazing at him with definite approval from the portrait. He began humming his tune once more. Yes. This corner was nearly sparkling.
Kid!Fic for
katrin:"Dad, this won't work."
Ray looked up and squinted: Annie was looking at her feet with a vague kind of resentment, like it was their fault her skates weren't going on properly. Ray finished lacing up his and scootched up to her, leaning down and trying to see where the trouble was.
"Well, no kidding, sporto, your laces are all tied up in knots." He flicked at her nose with a finger and ignoring the indignified squeal that ran through his eardrums, leaned down to untangle her laces. He heard her breathing hard above him, trying not to cry from frustration.
He'd thought this would be fun - take her out for a skating lesson, get her to loosen up, forget about the puppy for a while. Clearly, it wasn't working. She was frustrated and they hadn't even started skating yet. Ben had told him the distraction wouldn't work - she was stubborn as a mule, that one - but Ray had wanted to give it a shot, anyway. If nothing else, it'd get her out of the house and away from the slightly creepy shrine she was making in the furball's memory. Looking at her, Alex had started to fuss and get upset, and once Alex got upset, the whole house would be up in arms, and Ray couldn't deal with that again. So, off he'd taken her, and her new skates, and Ben had just given him that sad, "you'll see I was right" look, and here they were: Annie practically crying over tangled laces, Ray trying hard not to lose it.
He sighed and untangled the last knot. He sat up, winced a bit at the protest his back was giving him, and looked at her face. She was sniffling, pointedly not looking at him, her eyes a bit red around the edges. Her hat had slipped back, and the curls poking out of it were slightly damp.
Ray took her hand and squeezed it with his own. "Come on, let's try this, yeah?" A pause. "Or do you wanna go home?"
She scrunched up her eyes, took a big sniffle and mumbled a low "No."
"No, you wanna try this, or no, you wanna go home?"
"Don't wanna go home." She was still looking down at her feet, and Ray could only go on his gut.
"Lessons, then?" He watched as she nodded her head and straightened her posture, like she was really fighting it for control. "Good. Okay. This will be fun, you'll see. Can you stand up now?"
Ray let go of her hand, got up, and tried to remain as steady as he could, while Annie stumbled off the bench and clung to him for balance. After a little while, she took a small step forward and onto the ice, still holding onto his jacket. He followed her slowly, trying to gauge how steady the ice was under her feet. The skates were new, and she would just be getting used to their tight hold.
He unclenched her hand from his jacket and held it in his. "Ready?"
Annie turned around and nodded. "Yeah, okay."
"'Atta girl." He grinned and took a slow slide forward. Annie mirrored his motion, and together, they began their first circle around the pond.
*
Gardino for
brooklinegirl, in which I took certain liberties, just for you:"Everyone, shut the goddamn hell up!"
Welsh's voice boomed out across the entire classroom, and Louis flinched instinctively. He knew that eventually his superiors' loud voices would become something to ignore, or at least, not shit your pants over, but he was new to this whole academy thing, and Welsh was scary. So, he shut the goddamn hell up and faced the front of the room. Welsh was actually pretty young, he realized, but he had that "weary cop trying to ignore a crowd of civilians" look down pat. It made Louis want to not be a civilian that much more. Made him want to study and learn and become a cop, finally, so he could be looked upon as an equal. So that nobody would mispronounce his name ever again, or shorten it, or pet him, like his mother still did. He almost scowled as he thought of that, and puffed out his chest. Maybe he could grow a beard while he was at it. He scratched his smooth chin and cheeks. Yeah, being rough and smoking and drinking coffee and carrying a loaded pistol. He could do that. He was behind that a hundred percent.
Louis turned to the guy sitting next to him, watched him for any signs of weakness. He looked all right enough - about his age, scared shitless, like a young punk who found his way to a room full of cops by mistake. Well, not really a punk - maybe that was just the hair. It was kind of rebellious looking; definitely a little odd. Louis wondered if that guy would grow a beard, too. He kind of hoped he wouldn't - he'd look kind of dumb with a beard, or at least not as good as he did now. Louis caught his own thought and stoppered it. Looking down, he saw the guy had a wedding ring on. Yeah, okay, so that had been a near-weakness kind of moment right there. He'd have to watch himself. He counted up all the reasons he was here today, on his first day at the police academy. They all added up to one thing, and he grabbed it and stayed with it. He wouldn't stray from here on out. He'd study and learn and become a cop and learn to smoke and drink bad coffee and grow a beard and he'd make a life for himself. A real good life. And he'd have a real good partner, eventually, and he'd make Detective First Class, and everything would be good, then. A real good life.
He turned to the guy next to him, and whispered:
"Hey, I'm Louis. You new too, right? First year?"
The guy turned to him, a shock of a stare, burning right through him. "Yeah. I'm Ray. Good to meet you. Scary stuff, right?"
Louis swallowed around his dry tongue and grinned. "Yeah. Terrifying. Should be fun, though, yeah?"
Ray smiled and nodded. "Oh, yeah. A barrel-full."
*
Turtle!fic for
bathsweaver + dorky!Ray for shihadchick:Ray stared at the turtle in the tank. The turtle stared back. Ray blinked. So did the turtle. Ray turned to the gum-chewing kid who was assisting him - actually, he was looking at some cooing-over-puppy chick's ass - and pointed to the turtle: "This one. I'm gonna get this one."
The kid blew a bubble, snapped it, and gave a gusty sigh. "All right."
Ray stepped back to let the kid do his thing - unlock the tank, lift the cover, forget that he had to get a smaller tank first, close the cover, go somewhere for five minutes while Ray continued looking at the baby turtle and feeling small butterflies in his stomach, come back with a small tank filled with some water, spend two minutes trying to figure out where to put it, put it on the floor by Ray's feet, lift the cover, take out the turtle, put it in the small tank, close the cover and lock back the tank - and then he lifted the small tank with his new turtle and felt his cheeks lifting in a grin.
"Hey there, little fella. I'm Ray. We'll be good for each other, yeah?" Ray glanced over at the kid, who was now tapping his foot and rolling his eyes vaguely in Ray's direction, and paused. He was sounding like that chick over there, with the nice ass. Time to grow some. "Right, so, uh, where do I pay?"
The kid pointed towards the front of the store where a big sign clearly read "CASHIER: PAY HERE" and left Ray to puzzle out the rest. Ray sighed and looked at the turtle once more. It was gorgeous Box turtle, spotted yellow and green, and now it was Ray's. Finally, after years of mourning Skip, who died when Ray was fifteen, he could do this. He was ready. He was more than ready.
He smiled at the turtle and it smiled back. Ray'd already bought the perfect tank, and it was waiting for them back at his place, along with a month's supply of turtle food. "All right, you. Let's go home, okay? Got a treat for you."
The turtle stuck its head compeltely out of its shell and Ray could have sworn it nodded.
*
Turnbull for
cabari:Renfield was just dusting the last corner of the Queen's portrait in the upstairs hallway when he heard it. It was a rather startling crash, and at first, his ears did not discern the exact location of it - for he had been humming a rather jovial tune of his own composing, and considering his options in the polish to be used on the posts of the ancient bed situated in the Queen's bedroom. But soon enough, he heard another crash, this one definitely coming from the direction of Constable Fraser's office. Renfield gave the portrait in front of him an apologetic look, and after a moment's indecision, raced downstairs in the hopes of helping Constable Fraser alleviate any unpleasantness that might have been connected to the noises he had heard. After a near tumble down the last few steps, Renfield righted himself, skidded down and around the hall, and came to a halt in front of the closed door. He lifted his hand to knock, but then pressed his ear against the wood. Perhaps, if Constable Fraser was in some danger, Diefenbaker would let Renfield know with his barking. Such a smart, fascinating animal. The connection between him and Constable Fraser was quite stimulating to watch.
Renfield screwed up his eyes and concentrated on listening. He heard a groan first, then quiet laughter, then another, lower, slightly longer groan. Oh, dear. Perhaps the Constable had fallen and injured his head, and was now delirious. This required immediate medical assistance. Without further thought, Renfield turned the handle of the office door. It refused to be turned. He quickly deduced that the door was locked. This posed a serious problem, as Constable Fraser could very well be bleeding out of his head even as Renfield was trying his best to figure out a way to save him. Renfield decided that the time for courtesy was nearly past, and began pounding on the door with all of his strength.
"Constable Fraser, sir! Constable Fraser! Are you all right?" he called out. "Please unlock this door so we can get you assistance in whatever it is that has just conspired!" He paused to listen. All seemed completely, eerily quiet. He was just beginning to worry that he had lost the Constable to unconsciousness, when a familiar, and unexpected, voice called out:
"Go away, Turnbull!"
The voice belonged to Detective Ko- Vecchio, and Renfield's thoughts whirled. Perhaps Constable Fraser was not injured, after all. Ray was a good friend, and surely he wouldn't have-- pushed the Constable, or -- or even punched him in the head. But why wasn't the Constable talking? Renfield pounded on the door once again. "Constable Fraser, sir, I need you to answer me. Are - you - all - right - sir?"
"Turnbull." Ah, the Constable's voice this time. Renfield breathed easier. "Everything is completely under control. There is no cause for you to worry whatsoever. Everything is in good ha- hands, ah, and -- yes, Constable, you are free to do -- whatever it was you were doing, once more." Renfield heard another quiet groan. "Please," the Constable continued, "feel free to take your leave now."
Bidden to go by a superior officer, Renfield gave the door another worried look, and took his leave. The Queen's portrait needed dusting again. He picked up the polish on his way back to the second floor. Since Constable Fraser had told him, himself, that everything was in good hands, he had no choice but to believe him. However, he was still unsure about Ray's involvement in the situation. Well, no matter. They were probably shifting some archive boxes. Diefenbaker hadn't been heard, and he was quite a faithful pet. Really, sometimes Renfield found himself worrying needlessly. He had other things to focus on, he decided as he picked at another corner of the Queen's portrait. Things like cleaning wood, and polishing the posts of the bed, and keeping the Queen as happy as she could be, gazing at him with definite approval from the portrait. He began humming his tune once more. Yes. This corner was nearly sparkling.
no subject
Ray continued looking at the baby turtle and feeling small butterflies in his stomach
is just about the sweetest line I ever read. :D
no subject