Fic: Tonight the part of THE VILLAIN will be played by: Stanley Raymond Kowalski
Title: Tonight the part of THE VILLAIN will be played by: Stanley Raymond Kowalski
Fandom: due South
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: RayK/Stella; Rayk/OMC
Disclaimer: Not mine at all. I wish they were because that Stella is really cute. And ooh. Ray and Fraser kissing is pretty. Though there will be none of that in this story here.
Notes: Written very fast and hopefully well for the rayk97s challenge. Huuuuge thanks to both dayse and tigs for their 11th hour beta jobs. Note: Not a very happy story.
Tonight the part of THE VILLAIN will be played by: Stanley Raymond Kowalski
The only difference is you've got integrity, I don't
Only difference is I'll do a lot of things you won't
It's early by the time I fit my key in the lock and turn the handle to come back inside, back to my home. Early. 5:30 in the morning when I was supposed to be home last night by 7. Dinner. A TV show or two. Maybe some sex.
But I couldn't come home, still don't want to, but I gotta. She's worried. I know she's worried and I gotta come home and be the husband and take care of Stella. I press my forehead against the doorframe before I step inside and smell coffee.
I press my hand against my stomach briefly before hanging up my coat. I put my badge on the table by the front door, dropping my keys next to it. I don't know what makes me feel sicker - the badge or the coffee.
"Ray?" Stella comes out of the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee. I can see the moment where her worry turns to anger because I'm in one piece and nothing is visibly wrong. "So you came home."
"Mornin', Stella."
I start to walk towards her, but she holds up a hand and goes back into the kitchen. I bang my head against the wall twice before I follow her, shuffling instead of walking. She's sitting at the table again, a book and notepad spread out before her. Stella's got class today. Stella's got class everyday.
"You could have called."
"I …" My voice cracks and I sink into the seat across from her. "Yeah. I shoulda called. I just. It was a really bad day, Stel."
"My night was just wonderful," Stella says sarcastically. "I slept great wondering where my husband was all night long. Best night sleep in months."
"I'm sorry." There's nothing I can say to make her feel better anyway. Sometimes it's just easier to say 'I'm sorry' even when it's the worst thing you can say. And saying 'I'm sorry' to Stella when she's pissed off ain't good. "There's nothing else I can say."
"You could tell me where you were."
I run my hand through my hair and look at her, at the tense shoulders, the white knuckles where she's clutching her coffee mug. Her mouth is held tight and her eyes are red. "Did you sleep at all?"
Stella exhales loudly and drops her head to her arms. "No, Ray. I didn't."
I reach out and rest a shaking hand on the back of her neck, stroking lightly. Her skin is warm and soft. She shakes her head a little and I pull my hand back. "I need to shower."
Stella lifts her head to look at me. "Are you going to tell me?"
My hands start to shake even more and I press them against my thighs, shaking my head. "I will. Let me shower first. Please."
"Fine," Stella says coolly. "Go shower. Just. Go."
I get up and press a kiss to the top of her head. Her hair smells like coconut and strawberries. It's soft and wispy, tickling my lips. She sighs again and stares at her coffee until I leave the room. I can see her reflection in the mirror she hung in the hallway and I could swear she's crying again.
I wonder what I smell like. Do I smell like the bar - cigarettes and beer? Do I smell like the blood that was caked on my hands - metallic and harsh, mixed with the nauseating tang of bleach? Or do I smell like sex - sweat and come and spit and lube?
I don't know which one is worse, which one scent will make her angrier than the rest. Probably the sex. Definitely the sex if she knew what I had done earlier in the day.
The blood. I can still smell that underneath the rest of it. There's still bits of blood caught in the corner of my nail beds, no amount of scrubbing could get rid of it. And then the blood drawn by IA when they forced me to admit over and over again how I shot a man in the head and watched him die in front of me.
It was worse than the blood on my hands from Jake Botrelle. Jake was dead when I found him. This guy, I ended his fucking life myself. I'm a cop. I knew I was gonna eventually have to pull the trigger someday and kill someone. I just always hoped the day would never actually come.
I shiver as I step under the scalding hot water. I press a finger against a darkening bruise on my hip. Blood from a guy I killed and bruises from a guy I fucked. The water can't get hot enough right now and I slide down to slump against the side of the tub, water pounding over me.
"Ray?" Stella's voice is soft from the other side of the shower curtain. I can't see her through the dark red fabric, but I pull my knees to my chest and wait. "Did something happen?"
Yeah. Something happened alright. I killed a man. And fucked another man. And now I'm a cop whose gotta go to mandatory therapy sessions for discharging my duty weapon into some fucking asshole's head. And instead of coming home to you so you could make it better, I got piss drunk at some hole in the wall gay bar where this guy named Daniel
with floppy hair and blue eyes and really big hands bought me a drink and took me back to his place so I could fuck him.
I pull back the shower curtain and look at Stella sitting on the toilet, her coffee still in her hand. She meets my gaze for a long time before turning away. I let the shower curtain fall closed again and rest my head on my knees as I wait for the hot water to run out and turn to ice against my skin.
Fandom: due South
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: RayK/Stella; Rayk/OMC
Disclaimer: Not mine at all. I wish they were because that Stella is really cute. And ooh. Ray and Fraser kissing is pretty. Though there will be none of that in this story here.
Notes: Written very fast and hopefully well for the rayk97s challenge. Huuuuge thanks to both dayse and tigs for their 11th hour beta jobs. Note: Not a very happy story.
Tonight the part of THE VILLAIN will be played by: Stanley Raymond Kowalski
The only difference is you've got integrity, I don't
Only difference is I'll do a lot of things you won't
It's early by the time I fit my key in the lock and turn the handle to come back inside, back to my home. Early. 5:30 in the morning when I was supposed to be home last night by 7. Dinner. A TV show or two. Maybe some sex.
But I couldn't come home, still don't want to, but I gotta. She's worried. I know she's worried and I gotta come home and be the husband and take care of Stella. I press my forehead against the doorframe before I step inside and smell coffee.
I press my hand against my stomach briefly before hanging up my coat. I put my badge on the table by the front door, dropping my keys next to it. I don't know what makes me feel sicker - the badge or the coffee.
"Ray?" Stella comes out of the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee. I can see the moment where her worry turns to anger because I'm in one piece and nothing is visibly wrong. "So you came home."
"Mornin', Stella."
I start to walk towards her, but she holds up a hand and goes back into the kitchen. I bang my head against the wall twice before I follow her, shuffling instead of walking. She's sitting at the table again, a book and notepad spread out before her. Stella's got class today. Stella's got class everyday.
"You could have called."
"I …" My voice cracks and I sink into the seat across from her. "Yeah. I shoulda called. I just. It was a really bad day, Stel."
"My night was just wonderful," Stella says sarcastically. "I slept great wondering where my husband was all night long. Best night sleep in months."
"I'm sorry." There's nothing I can say to make her feel better anyway. Sometimes it's just easier to say 'I'm sorry' even when it's the worst thing you can say. And saying 'I'm sorry' to Stella when she's pissed off ain't good. "There's nothing else I can say."
"You could tell me where you were."
I run my hand through my hair and look at her, at the tense shoulders, the white knuckles where she's clutching her coffee mug. Her mouth is held tight and her eyes are red. "Did you sleep at all?"
Stella exhales loudly and drops her head to her arms. "No, Ray. I didn't."
I reach out and rest a shaking hand on the back of her neck, stroking lightly. Her skin is warm and soft. She shakes her head a little and I pull my hand back. "I need to shower."
Stella lifts her head to look at me. "Are you going to tell me?"
My hands start to shake even more and I press them against my thighs, shaking my head. "I will. Let me shower first. Please."
"Fine," Stella says coolly. "Go shower. Just. Go."
I get up and press a kiss to the top of her head. Her hair smells like coconut and strawberries. It's soft and wispy, tickling my lips. She sighs again and stares at her coffee until I leave the room. I can see her reflection in the mirror she hung in the hallway and I could swear she's crying again.
I wonder what I smell like. Do I smell like the bar - cigarettes and beer? Do I smell like the blood that was caked on my hands - metallic and harsh, mixed with the nauseating tang of bleach? Or do I smell like sex - sweat and come and spit and lube?
I don't know which one is worse, which one scent will make her angrier than the rest. Probably the sex. Definitely the sex if she knew what I had done earlier in the day.
The blood. I can still smell that underneath the rest of it. There's still bits of blood caught in the corner of my nail beds, no amount of scrubbing could get rid of it. And then the blood drawn by IA when they forced me to admit over and over again how I shot a man in the head and watched him die in front of me.
It was worse than the blood on my hands from Jake Botrelle. Jake was dead when I found him. This guy, I ended his fucking life myself. I'm a cop. I knew I was gonna eventually have to pull the trigger someday and kill someone. I just always hoped the day would never actually come.
I shiver as I step under the scalding hot water. I press a finger against a darkening bruise on my hip. Blood from a guy I killed and bruises from a guy I fucked. The water can't get hot enough right now and I slide down to slump against the side of the tub, water pounding over me.
"Ray?" Stella's voice is soft from the other side of the shower curtain. I can't see her through the dark red fabric, but I pull my knees to my chest and wait. "Did something happen?"
Yeah. Something happened alright. I killed a man. And fucked another man. And now I'm a cop whose gotta go to mandatory therapy sessions for discharging my duty weapon into some fucking asshole's head. And instead of coming home to you so you could make it better, I got piss drunk at some hole in the wall gay bar where this guy named Daniel
with floppy hair and blue eyes and really big hands bought me a drink and took me back to his place so I could fuck him.
I pull back the shower curtain and look at Stella sitting on the toilet, her coffee still in her hand. She meets my gaze for a long time before turning away. I let the shower curtain fall closed again and rest my head on my knees as I wait for the hot water to run out and turn to ice against my skin.