Exploding Poohsticks

FIC: Not As Dumb [FAKE, Ryo/Dee, PG] [part 2 of 4]

2008-11-26T02:33:45Z

Title: Not As Dumb, part 2 of 4 (see part 1 for full header info)
Author: bronze_ribbons
Word count for part 2: a bit over 6800 words
A/N: Apologies for the wait! The current hope is to post part 3 by 15 Jan and part 4 by 14 Feb.

Part 1

Part 2

The second pair of handcuffs arrived two days later, in an envelope identical to the one used for the previous mailing. As before, the label was addressed to Ryo, but it was Dee who arrived home first from work that day. When he saw the packet, he didn't bother heading up to their apartment; instead, he snatched it up, sprinted out of the building, and hailed a cab straight back to the precinct station.

* * *

Ryo was squinting at the screen of his laptop when Ted poked his head through the doorway. "I'm calling in to Don and Joni's. You and Dee want anything?"

"Stromboli, for me." Ryo reached for his wallet and handed Ted a twenty. "Dee's not here -- he left at three."

Ted blinked. "He did? I just saw him ten minutes ago, terrorizing the new lab tech."

Ryo frowned. "That's...weird. We've got everything we need for the Subbarow case... Griaule's, that's open and shut... the Lomond murder, that's a total fiasco, but he knows that's not the lab's fault. He wouldn't be back here just for that..."

"Whatever it is, it's got him spitting nails," Ted said. "The tech wasn't getting in a single word edgewise."

"Just what I need," Ryo groaned. "Santiago on my tail."

Santiago was the head of the lab and fiercely protective of her subordinates. Ted's grin was both knowing and sympathetic. "She expecting you to keep Dee in line?"

Ryo cast a wary, weary glance at the telephone and pulled off his glasses. "I'll walk with you to DJ's, if you don't mind. She'll probably be on the horn any minute now, and I'm really not in the mood to explain again that Dee is not my job."

"Damn right I'm not your job," Dee said, materializing at Ted's shoulder. "I'm way more fun than a job."

"Modest, too," Ryo said drily.

"Modesty's a copout," Dee declared. "It's people who know what they want who get what they want."

Ryo opened his mouth to snap out a comeback, but no words came out: his mind had leaped back to the start of their partnership -- and to how fast and completely he'd fallen once he'd finally let himself want Dee with all his heart.

Ted hastily muttered, "I'll tell Don to make it two strombolis. See you guys in a while," and retreated down the hall.

Dee kicked the door shut, his eyes never leaving Ryo's face. They were blazing with a wild possessiveness that, once upon a time, Ryo would have found alarming.

These days, he found it hot beyond belief.

Closed door notwithstanding, though, they were at work. Ryo met Dee's stare with his own. "If the phone rings, it's yours."

"I'm off the clock."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

Dee disgustedly flung the new pair of handcuffs onto Ryo's desk. "So far, finding out diddly-squat."

Ryo winced as the metal clanged against the hard surface. "Dee, do you mind?" He scooped up the cuffs just before they skidded into his lap, holding them up for a closer look.

"Elegant," Ryo finally said.

"Not a damn print anywhere on 'em. Not a single stray fiber or speck inside the envelope or on its seal." Dee growled. "Some asshole is completely up to no good."

"I won't argue with that," Ryo said. "I wish you hadn't harassed the lab, though. It could have waited."

"Dude, once is creepy, twice is a threat."

"Not always," Ryo objected. "It could just be someone with a warped, overly subtle sense of humor. If I wanted to drive me crazy, I'd come up with something like this."

"No, you wouldn't," Dee retorted. "You'd be much more efficient about Operation Mortify Ryo. You'd get the packages sent to here, and you'd rig it so that they'd arrive artistically torn, so that everyone would see them before you ever a chance to hide 'em. And they'd be covered in turquoise fur --"

"Dear God --"

"--with rhinestone studs and a 'Stairway to Heaven' soundchip in the keyhole--"

"Dee, how do you know about handcuffs like -- no, wait, forget I asked. I don't actually want to know."

"Liar," Dee cheerfully said. "You adore me and you want to know everything."

Ryo set the handcuffs back down. "You're right, I do," he admitted. His lips twitched as he glimpsed the flare of delight in Dee's eyes; he found it both absurd and touching that he could make his partner so happy with such a simple acknowledgment.

It also secretly frightened him: it was not the kind of power he had ever wanted over anyone else. That Dee mattered to him more than anything was far less problematic: it was true that it had taken an inordinately long time and a talking-to from Diana for him to come to terms with his attraction to Dee, but he had never regretted finally crossing that Rubicon. Dee was brash, boisterous, and a hundred other things Ryo had never pictured himself finding tolerable -- never mind desirable -- in his pre-Dee fantasies of a romantic companion, and Dee's antics regularly complicated his life in too many ways to count, but there was also not a single shred of doubt in Ryo's mind that Dee was the best thing that had ever happened to him. It wasn't just the addictive bliss of soul-stealing kisses or the bone-melting gratification of great sex: it was how, with Dee, he hadn't lost who he was, but become more himself rather than less. Dee seldom let him get away with the excuses or evasions he automatically resorted to whenever he tried to escape his memories or deny his feelings, whether they were about victims he couldn't save or his tendency to play the martyr whenever things weren't going his way. Dee was himself a casual, habitual liar where everyday convenience was concerned -- just the day before, Ryo had caught him blatantly fibbing about a dental appointment -- but he was heartstoppingly blunt when something or someone mattered enough to him, and being anything he thought Ryo truly needed clearly mattered above anything else.

Ryo compressed his lips, remembering how Dee had saved him from himself the night he'd pointed his gun at Leo Grant. How Dee had charged to his rescue during a trip to England. He recalled a night not long after Bikky had left for college, when he'd been jumped by a newly-released felon -- one who'd nursed a ferocious grudge against Ryo all through his stay in the hoosegow -- and how Dee had appeared on the scene within seconds, having chosen to stalk Ryo's stalker instead of heading home to sleep, which had been what he'd told Ryo he'd be doing. Ryo owed Dee his life several times over -- and it bugged him more than he cared to admit. The Japanese side of him was hugely resistant to carrying any sort of debt, and as much as he loved his Aunt Elena and Uncle Rick, there was a part of him that would always feel he should have been able to handle his parents' deaths on his own, even though he wouldn't have expected it of anyone else on earth. It was the part of him that steadily rebuilt his savings each time they were depleted by emergencies and other major expenditures, and it was the part of him that couldn't help wondering what in the world Dee saw in him that made him worth the trouble. Sure, Ryo cooked and cleaned more often than not, but Dee was no slouch at either when he felt like it, and there were plenty of other people he could have seduced into keeping house had that been his priority. Ryo had been stuck with more than his share of the paperwork throughout their partnership, but that had been his fate throughout grade school as well -- he'd been the smart, goody-goody kid repeatedly saddled with slackers and jokers on group projects, and they'd always taken his efforts for granted; Ryo didn't think Dee was any different from them in that regard, so that couldn't be the basis for Dee's enduring devotion. It certainly wasn't Ryo's ability to express affection -- Ryo didn't have it in him to be romantic or glib, and he sometimes feared that his lover would someday come to his senses and transfer his attentions to someone much more in sync with his style. Ryo knew Dee would never actually do that to him, but it nonetheless nagged at him at times like these: what had he done to deserve Dee's passionate commitment to him, and was he doing enough--

"You've gone quiet again," Dee said.

"I'm thinking of how impossible you're going to be until we sort this out," Ryo lightly said, gesturing to the handcuffs.

"I'm impossible?" Dee snorted. "You're the one with the freakin' 'kiss me or kill me' vibe!"

"I -- I am not!" Ryo sputtered. "And even if I were, it doesn't mean it has anything to do with -- with whatever the heck these are about!"

"I will bet my left nut--"

"Could you please wager something not already on offer?" Ryo snapped. Then his cheeks turned crimson as he realized what he'd just said.

Dee burst out laughing. "You're right," he said, as he walked around to Ryo's side of the desk. "It's not a real bet when I want you to take--"

"Dee, we're at work. Stuff your tongue back into your skull and--"

Dee licked the underside of Ryo's earlobe, and his hand snaked down to cup Ryo through his slacks. "I want you to do this to me," he purred, his fingers pressing firmly against the fabric, seeking the curve of Ryo's balls.

"I'm not doing a damn thing to you other than chaining you to your desk," Ryo panted. His eyes were sparkling with both fury and arousal as he squirmed against Dee's hands and lips.

"If you insist," Dee crooned. "But only after I'm done with--"

"Dee, could you postpone molesting your partner until he's finished picking through my pics?" Alex Yoshizumi sauntered into the office, arms laden with carryout bags and a cardboard tray of soft drinks. He grinned as Ryo's desperate shove sent Dee sprawling onto the floor.

Dee glared at Alex. "Goddammit, whelp, didn't your elders ever teach you how to knock?"

The younger detective smirked as he set the food down on Dee's desk. "Of course they did, old man. I learned the not-knocking part from you."

"You reap what you sow," Ted intoned, walking in with his own dinner. "Serves you right for corrupting children, Dee."

Alex was in his second year at the precinct; he'd spent his first six months as Dee's partner, during Ryo's stint as a police academy instructor. He genially flipped Ted off as he said to Ryo, "Sorry to rush you, man, but O'Leary wants to go over my notes in an hour."

"Not a problem," Ryo said. He poked a button on his laptop and gestured at the reactivated screen. "I was looking at the last one when Dee dropped in. You can tell O'Leary I didn't see anything you didn't."

"Phooey," Alex said. "I mean, yay me for not missing anything, but I wanted to be done with this case. I was hoping the magic Maclean look-see would do the trick."

"I hate to break it to you, Alex, but you're probably actually getting better at your scene analyses. Clues don't just materialize because I'm the one looking."

"Oh, but they do," Alex claimed, grinning. "I learned that from your partner too."

"You see what I had to put up with?" Dee said to Ryo. "Never again."

"He's totally lying, kid," Ted said to Alex. "If Ryo skips back to teaching, that door so has your name on it."

"It wasn't horrible," Ryo said, "but I'd much rather be here. I'd only go back if I got hurt that bad again." He'd opted to become one of the academy's Social Science instructors during his recovery from a badly broken leg, choosing the novelty of preparing lectures over the known tedium of extended desk duty.

"If you ever go back, I'm going with you," Dee growled. "I'll get them to put me in Tactics or Gym."

"Ryo Maclean, you owe it to the public to stay healthy," Ted declared. "We can't let Dee near the recruits, the graduation rate's already at a record low."

"Graduation rate be damned," Dee said. "They're letting through too many morons as it is. The Lomond case is completely hosed because Darlington's a fucking tool with his head so far up his ass he can't --"

"Dee, chill," Ryo commanded. "Don't ruin a good meal by bringing up Darlington."

"You really are a catty bitch," Alex said to Ryo.

Ryo coolly replied, "It's how I am. Deal with it."

"Hey, hey, I'm not disagreeing with you." Alex tossed the pickle spear that had come with his sandwich onto Dee's stromboli wrapper. "Darlington's pretty, but he's dumber than a bag of hair. There's no friggin' way he made detective without some sort of greasin' up --"

"Pipe down," Ted hissed, darting a glance toward the open door. "Darlington does have friends here. Russell and Peckham are just down the hall."

Alex didn't lower his voice as he stated, "They're morons too. Someone's gonna get killed or maimed around that pack of clowns, and I hope to God I'm out of range when that happens."

Ted said, "You and Dee have spent way, way, way too much time together."

"He was like that when we got him," Dee said. "Also, he's right. I don't trust those fuckwits any further than I can spit."

"I'm so scared, Laytner," scoffed a supercilious voice from the doorway. "Though you're such a yokel, you probably spit like a champion."

"Want me to demonstrate, Russell?" Dee shot back.

"Save it for your Japanese boys," Russell sneered. "You must be good at bangin' them -- there's no other reason why they'd keep hauling your ass out of hot water."

"You son of a--" Alex barreled into Ted, who had swiftly stepped in front of him. Ryo had likewise gotten to his feet, ready to leap between Dee and the door if need be, but Dee had remained seated. He met the challenge in Ryo's stare with a slight shake of his head.

"Whipped," Russell taunted.

Dee ignored him, saying to Ryo, "Give me a little credit here. He's not worth me getting into trouble with you."

"So prissy little Maclean can kick your ass, huh?" Russell suggested.

"Stow it," Dee snarled. "Ryo's prettier than you'll ever be, but that's got nothing to do with your dick being smaller than a crayon."

Alex snickered. Ted sighed. Ryo muttered, "Oh, for crying out loud, I don't have time for this" as he sat back down and turned to his laptop.

Russell regarded Ryo with contempt. "Why don't you go back to the academy, then? You had plenty of time there to tattle on everyone you didn't like."

"My, my, aren't we quick with old gossip," Ryo calmly said, typing.

"You ruined a dozen careers with your power trips," Russell insisted.

"You flatter me."

"I bet you pull Star Cards from Laytner to get it up."

Ryo reached for the phone. "That's quite an imagination you've got, Russell. Care to share your major mental images with the Lou? I'm dialing his extension right now."

"You're such a fucking showoff," Russell snapped, but he'd vanished from the doorway by the time Lt. O'Leary's voice boomed "Yes, Maclean?" through Ryo's handset.

"I've got a stromboli I'm not going to have time to eat," Ryo said. "You want Yoshizumi to bring it to you? No problem, sir, I'm glad it won't be going to waste. See you later, sir."

The room was dead silent as he hung up. Ted found his voice first. "So that's how to get first grade, huh? Cozying up to the commanders with food?"

Ryo shrugged. "It wouldn't kill you guys to be nice to them."

"But that was your dinner," Dee pointed out. "What are you going to do for yourself now?"

Ryo closed the lid of his laptop. "I was thinking my partner could treat me to something. Since the real reason I won't be eating this is because I'm escorting him home."

Dee's face lit up. "Do I believe my ears? Sandra Dee Maclean about to play hooky?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't be working." Ryo tucked an overstuffed accordion folder under his arm as he stood up. "I'll get more done if Santiago doesn't catch me here."

"Yet more proof that Russell's a total loser. He ran away from you, and you're running away from a girl," Alex teased.

Ryo's smile was sharp. "I seem to recall someone begging me not to leave him with Nurse Emiry just last month, and it wasn't Dee."

Yoshizumi protested, "She doesn't count! She's built like a rhinoceros and twice as mean!"

Ryo's smile became even more needle-bright. "And do you remember what Diana Spacey had to say when you said that in her hearing?"

Yoshizumi blanched and held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, I get it, I'm a loser too. But Russell's made of much more lose, and Darlington's the loser-est of them all."

Ryo lobbed the bag containing his DJ's order at the younger detective. "Take that to the Lou, please, and lose the attitude already. We've still got to work with those guys."

Alex turned to Dee. "Does he ever stop?"

Dee trilled, "It's what I love about you Japanese boys, didn't you know? You're so sweet and soft and submissive and -- ow!" The book Ryo had hurled at him bounced off his shoulder as he doubled over laughing, and his hands clutched the bag Alex had pitched at his face.

Ted shook his head. "Ryo, I don't know about sending that lunch to O'Leary. It probably looks more like salad than stromboli by now."

"Then I guess the children will have to explain why, won't they?" Ryo already had a foot out the door. "Dee, I'll meet you out front when you're done. I'm gonna check in with Drake and JJ, see what they got from interrogating Tellerman."

"Ryo, wait up, I'll -- dammit." Dee slumped back into his chair as the sound of Ryo's footsteps receded down the hall.

Ted fished a receipt and a couple of bills out of a pocket and handed them to Dee. "I've said it before -- you're the craziest son of a bitch on the squad, but Ryo's even more 'work my own way' than you."

Dee grinned as he tossed the receipt into a wastecan and folded the bills into his wallet. "Am I hearing you say that Ryo is more obnoxious?"

"I'm saying he's more dangerous," Ted soberly answered. Dee and Alex looked at him in surprise, both taken aback at the tired anxiety coloring his words. "You and Yosh, you're bigger pains in the ass, but you're like that on purpose -- you've got your guard up and your guns cocked when you go around smacking people's buttons and yanking their chains. Ryo's more scary than either of you because half of the time he doesn't have a clue that he's pissing people off -- and the rest of the time, he does, but he doesn't take them seriously enough to realize how much he's pissed them off. He's so into whatever he's doing at any given moment that he totally fails to notice when he's cut off someone's dick because it happened to be in the way -- and then he gets blindsided by how they go all triple batshit on him because their asses got handed to them by someone who looks like a kindergarten teacher."

Dee's eyebrows had nearly climbed into his scalp during his colleague's tirade. "Ted, my friend, you're thinking yourself into a tizzy again --"

"My kindergarten teacher was much meaner than Ryo," Alex said, in a tone of cheerful nostalgia. "I've never forgiven her for confiscating my laser pointer."

"A laser -- what the hell were you doing in preschool with that?" Dee demanded.

"Trying to impress the chicks," Alex admitted. "It was school, so I was bored out of my mind, so I nicked it from my mom's desk."

Ted's incredulous stare matched Dee's. "You were already after girls when you were five?"

"What can I say? I was a precocious little punk," Alex said, looking far too proud of that fact.

"Speaking of which, shouldn't you be legging this over to O'Leary's?" Dee threw the carryout sack back at the younger man.

Alex easily fielded the bag, wincing as he heard its contents rustle a little too loosely for comfort. "I'll just have to tell him I ran into Ted, and that's why it looks so bad."

Ted looked both amused and exasperated. "Why don't you pretend it's Russell in the doorway again, and I'll give you a few more bruises to show off?" A gleam appeared in his eye as he added, "In the old days, we could've just given JJ a call, and then positioned you right in front of Dee--"

Dee shuddered as he walked over to Ryo's desk. "Thank you, Lord, for mercies large and small /And bless all Thy creatures, the short and the tall..." The handcuffs jingled as he picked them up.

Alex automatically turned his head toward the sound as he headed toward the door. As he caught sight of the manacles, he stopped in his tracks, leaning toward Dee for a closer look. "Is that a pair of Adams handcuffs? What's Ryo doing with those?"

"Adams?" Dee narrowed his eyes. "These are JJ's?"

"I doubt that specific pair is his," Alex said, frowning at Dee's sudden intensity. "The pair I saw was in his guestroom, mounted in an antique shadowbox frame. Some uncle ten or fifteen 'great's back came up with the design."

Dee exhaled angrily. "So I've still got nada on these," he said, rattling the handcuffs.

"Ryo's already looked them over?" At Dee's nod, Alex continued, "He's slipping, man. First my pics and now your cuffs -- that's two sets of clues he's failed to coax out of thin air. The Maclean mojo is not in the house today. Did he forget to sacrifice a dozen sunflowers to the gods? Is there something we need to -- Ulp. Um, hi sir." He grinned weakly at Lieutenant O'Leary, who had silently appeared in the doorway.

"Is that my lunch that's mangled between your mitts, you mutt?" Alex immediately handed him the now sad-looking sack of food. O'Leary unrolled the top of the bag and peered into it with an air of resigned apprehension. Rolling it closed again, he thrust it at Alex and said, "Do me a favor -- go find a plate for this and put in the nuker for a couple minutes. And rinse the fork and the knife in the bag while you're there. I'll meet you back in my office in ten."

"Yes, sir!" O'Leary neatly stepped aside as Alex scurried out.

"And Russell's giving me shit about my Japanese harem?" Dee said.

O'Leary coolly asked, "Are you planning to report him?"

"Hell, no. That'd waste my time more than his. All they'll do is make the guy take a class, and he'll still be an asshole once he's done with it."

"Then save your bitching for someone who cares," O'Leary said. "Which isn't me -- and right now isn't your partner, either. He's not real happy about Santiago storming into Parker and Adams's office to corner him there."

"Oh, great," Dee muttered. "That's my whole night down the drain. I'll be lucky if he's speaking to me again before breakfast."

The lieutenant leaned against the frame of the door, his arms folded. "Laytner, I seem to recall that you're not a moron, even though you keep acting like one. You yell at the labbies, they whine to Santiago. Santiago takes it out on Maclean, Maclean goes sub-zero on you. You know by now that that's what's going to happen, so why the hell do you still do this to yourself?"

"Can I help it that Santiago can't save it for someone who cares?"

"If it's urgent enough to light fires under Santiago's crew, I ought to already know what it's about."

"If I knew what the fuck was going on, I wouldn't need to lean on the damn lab," Dee countered. He held the handcuffs out to his superior. "Ryo's started receiving some jewelry in the mail. Sender unknown."

"A new secret admirer? Already?" O'Leary inspected the cuffs, scowling. "Parker just turned in the paperwork on the last one." He turned a gimlet glare upon Ted. "And what are you finding so funny?"

Ted gamely admitted, "It's how you said 'Already,' sir. It reminded me of Ryo's reaction the time you told him he was catnip for kooks."

"Well, he is," O'Leary irritably grunted, but a corner of his mouth had twitched upward. "Present company not excepted."

"Present company doesn't give a flying fuck what you call it," Dee snapped. "All the other kooks need to take a hike. Preferably off the Tappan Zee."

"I'm sure the feeling's mutual," the lieutenant said, handing the cuffs back to Dee. "I know you've got nine lives, Laytner, but try not to get baited into wasting any of them while you're watching out for Maclean. We don't have the budget or the time to fish either of you out of the Hudson." He turned to Ted again. "Consider yourself Laytner's backup for this."

Dee bristled. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Funny you should say that." O'Leary allowed himself a sardonic smile. "You sound just like Maclean when he thinks you're hovering. Later, gentlemen."

"I do not hover!" Dee yelled down the hall.

"The hell you don't!" a boyish voice shouted back.

"Like you're one to talk, JJ!" Dee bellowed, hastily retreating back into the office. His attempt to slam the door collided with 130 pounds of flying sharpshooter, its panels and hinges rattling dangerously. JJ merrily picked himself up off the floor and dusted off his clothes before looking over at Dee, who had taken refuge behind Ryo's desk.

"I should start doing more of that again," JJ said, his eyes alight with wicked glee. "That was way more fun than what my trainer put me through this morning."

"I'll put you through this window if you do," Dee threatened. "Then Drake will kill me for killing you, and O'Leary won't kill Drake, but he'll make him mentor our replacements, and that will make Drake wish O'Leary had simply killed him after all, so he'll go get blind drunk and then piss on your grave, and you wouldn't want that, would you?"

Ted said, "You're missing a step. Ryo would kill Drake before the Lou got around to it."

Dee shook his head. "No, Ryo wouldn't go that far."

"For you, he would," JJ countered.

"No," Dee reiterated. "Trust me on this. Killing for revenge is a line Ryo won't ever cross."

He thought he had been doing a good job of keeping his voice matter-of-fact, but Ted and JJ exchanged a startled look. Shit. But before Dee could come up with something to steer the topic elsewhere, Ted mused aloud, "He's been stuck with you what, ten, eleven years? And you're both still alive..."

JJ snickered. Dee gritted out, "Just what are you getting at?"

"You're a psycho and a pest," Ted flatly stated. "If Ryo ever does shoot you, all he'll have to do is plead temporary sanity and the jury will find for him."

"And O'Leary appointed you as my nanny? I feel so reassured."

"O'Leary what?" JJ looked bemused but unsurprised. "Oh, Dee, what did you do now?"

"Time for a coffee break," Ted said, forestalling Dee's response. "Let's head over to Ninth Street. Dee's gonna bring us up to date on Ryo's latest set of love tokens, and after that, he can bring back a latte to calm his darling down."

"We can skip the walk," Dee growled. "There's nothing to tell, and Ryo'll just dump the drink over my head."

"Ryo would not," JJ said. "Too messy. Though Santiago was really shrill today -- he might be pissed off enough not to care. Especially if he's hit that mood where he wants an excuse to stay snippy with you."

Ted had been studying Dee while JJ talked. "Something about this is freaking you out more than usual," he said. "You'd normally be all over any scrap of a clue, no matter how random it might seem. Either this isn't really about Ryo, or you're getting as dumb as you are loud."

Dee hotly flung back, "Maybe I just don't wanna discuss stalkers around someone who stalked me."

A sudden hush fell among the three detectives. At Dee's words, JJ's eyes had instantly brimmed with tears, but he furiously blinked them back as he said, "Whatever you want, Dee. I'll just go back to work, and Drake can --"

"No, JJ, we need you on this one. You're the one who's our resident expert on these," Ted cut in, extricating the Adams cuffs from Dee's unresisting grasp.

"What the..." JJ automatically accepted the cuffs from Ted, his demeanor shifting from "hurt" to "professional" as if someone had flipped a switch. "Did they come with a key?"

"No," Dee rasped out, not quite looking at JJ.

"Polished steel... 1862 patent stamp... I saw a pair of these listed at 300 bucks in a catalog not too long ago. That was for mint condition, though, with a reproduction key... You bullied the lab into taking glamour shots of these, right? E-mail them to me, I'll start asking around -- my Aunt Abby's the historian in the family, she follows most of the collecting gossip and she'll have heard if there's a pair of these gone AWOL. Do you have photos of the other stuff Ryo's received?" At Dee's shake of his head, JJ tsked. "Ted's right, you are off your game. Don't go hassling the lab again -- Ted can take care of it."

Dee nodded in agreement: Ted had long ago proven he was ahead of the rest of them when it came to all things related to computers; he had a knack for selecting the best settings on any digital camera he got his hands on, such that even his basic, no-frills, off-the-cuff snapshots looked miles better than anything anyone else in their circle could usually manage. Dee ran a hand through his hair and then reached for his pack of cigarettes. "Let's go," he said. "JJ, you wanna pick up Drake and meet us out front?"

"No, I've got stuff I need to get back to," JJ said, his voice even. "You guys take Drake along and bring back a Coke for me when you're done."

"10-4," Dee briskly said, and headed out the door. Ted trailed behind him, pausing to look at JJ with open concern.

"It's okay," JJ reassured him. "Honest. Shoo!" Ted's expression lightened into an answering smile and he hurried out after Dee.

As the footsteps of his colleagues receded down the hall, JJ's smile faded. He stepped over to Ryo's desk and quickly shuffled through the second stack of folders from its right edge, easily locating the one on Tellerman's aunt that Ryo had advised him to retrieve. His original mission completed, JJ lingered in front of the desk, surveying Ryo's neat row of sticky-notes, the magnets clinging to the side of the file cabinet, and the easel-style desk calendar from the NYPD union; from a previous snoop-around, JJ happened to know that a snapshot of Dee, Bikky, and Carol was tucked securely inside the calendar, behind the panel for "December."

JJ sighed sadly, knowing he was about to succumb once more to one of his most private, guiltiest compulsions: periodically prowling through the contents of Ryo's desk. It was a habit he had first indulged in soon after the episode where he'd spied Dee planting a kiss on Ryo at the shooting range: he'd wanted so desperately to figure out what on earth Ryo possessed that Dee found so irresistible, and analyzing Ryo's belongings in-depth had seemed as good a way as any to cater to his mind's insistence on dwelling upon everything to do with Dee. After a while, it had become less about the hope for answers and more about the fun of getting away with it: Ryo was notorious for his uber-neat, order-loving ways, but he was also legendarily, astoundingly lax about keeping tabs on his belongings: JJ hadn't personally believed the yarn that had buzzed around for a while about Ryo's foster son, Ryo's stun gun, and a bear, but he'd witnessed Ryo misplacing coffeemugs, making return trips for jackets left behind, and even spacing out completely on dates with Dee (the last fortunately far less frequent than his other lapses of attention). JJ had relished "borrowing" small items from Ryo from time to time, and returning them a few days later with Ryo apparently none the wiser. It wasn't that stealing from Ryo had presented any particular challenge -- Drake and Dee and Ted themselves all regularly raided Ryo's desk for spare change and snacks -- but, for JJ, each instance of illicit possession had nonetheless felt like a tiny triumph: learning so much about Ryo, however trivial or tangential, had allowed him to feel as though he was uniquely and intimately connected to Ryo's life -- which, by extension, had let him persuade himself that he was uniquely and intimately connected to Dee as well.

There was only so much self-delusion even he could stomach, however, and he'd finally reached his limit right around the time Ryo moved in with Dee. He had attended a brunch where he'd blithely remarked to a friend how So-and-So needed to realize she was no longer as cute as she thought she was, and the friend had bluntly replied, "Takes one to know one -- you're not getting any younger yourself." The casually cruel remark had suddenly jolted him into truly seeing his behavior from Dee and Ryo's perspectives: he had been so intent on being adoring, adorable, and memorable that he hadn't been able to recognize -- much less accept -- that those very same actions had come across to Dee for more than a decade as creepy and tiresome. For the first time in his life, he had assessed his own actions from the vantage point of someone neutral -- the same stance he generally maintained toward the rest of his detective work, but which he hadn't previously thought to apply toward his unrequited attraction to Dee -- and what he'd seen had made him wish he'd possessed some sort of magical eraser for all his interactions with Dee since their academy days. It was humiliating to realize that Dee and Ryo would never see him without the baggage of a thousand unrequited passes, and that it was all his own doing -- it wasn't as though Dee hadn't conveyed his dismay and frustration at the persistence and intensity of JJ's affection each time JJ had attempted to vault through Dee's resistance.

JJ smiled faintly to himself as he gazed at Ryo's desk, his mind darting among various highlights in his relationships with Dee, Ryo, and Drake. The past couldn't be wholly forgotten, but it could pushed firmly into the background by one's present behavior, and he was so clearly good for Drake -- in a way he'd never managed to be for Dee -- that it did him good: to have his natural inclination to fuss and to fawn be rewarded with appreciation rather than contempt was a heady feeling he never wanted to lose. Directing it at Drake instead of Dee had also significantly improved his level of camaraderie with both Dee and Ryo: Dee no longer actively avoided him, and seemed less prone to using JJ as a target for his periodic, outsized outbursts of rage; Ryo remained polite and cool and hard to read, but JJ nonetheless fancied that his former rival had incrementally thawed towards him: regularly-getting-laid-Ryo seemed much more able to take a joke, and was even occasionally willing to dish back what he got, judging from the thoroughness with which JJ and Drake's office had gotten swathed with the Billy Joel toilet paper.

So yes, things had worked out for the best, in general. But there were still some ugly moments among all of them: there was Dee being Dee and thus incurably rude, especially when he felt tense or threatened. There was Ryo being Ryo, who was seldom rude on purpose but who sometimes managed to offend people out of sheer goody-two-shoed cluelessness. There was Drake being a terminal slob, inadvertently inflicting cigarette burns and coffee stains upon JJ's clothes and other belongings. There was Ted being a chronic worrywart: his tendency to dwell upon every potential angle to a situation was one of his strengths as a detective, and it helped make him a whiz at debugging anything technology-related, but it also sometimes paralyzed him when he needed simply to plow ahead with a plan. There was Alex Yoshizumi, who was as brash as Dee and as hardworking as Ryo -- working with him sometimes felt like being trapped with a profane Energizer bunny.

And there was JJ being himself, which meant he tended to say too much and feel too much, and to remind people of the very things he wanted them to forgive and forget for the sake of a quick quip or a moment's laugh. It meant that he constantly craved the pleasure of being memorable: his dyed hair, his superlative sharpshooting skills, and his strident pursuit of Dee were all facets of the same insatiable hunger for attention. And it meant that even though he was largely content with his current relationship, he still sometimes fell prey to the urge to collect all the information he could about his old crushes, former boyfriends, and in Ryo's case, onetime rival.

He no longer permitted himself to take anything from Ryo's desk without Ryo's express permission -- the chances of getting caught were exponentially higher now that Drake had unlimited access to JJ's own belongings, and the increasingly diminished sense of power he'd once extracted out of possessing Ryo's possessions (however temporarily and no matter how trivia) was not worth the potential fallout. Nevertheless, it was an addiction that JJ couldn't completely shake: Learning about every case Ryo was working on somehow made JJ feel like he was supporting Ryo's successes, even when he wasn't directly involved with the investigations in question, and no matter how sternly he chastised himself on the sheer absence of logic in that particular emotional equation. Retrieving Ryo's spare glasses or vial of prescription antacids was not a task JJ was ever likely to receive, but he still liked the fact that he knew where Ryo stored such things. It had let him glimpse snapshots of Dee that Ryo had never shared publicly -- all technically work-safe, but still unmistakably photos taken by a lover rather than a mere friend.

As he rifled through Ryo's in-tray, JJ wasn't expecting much in the way of surprises. He recognized some of its contents as memos and junk mail he hadn't gotten around to sifting out of his own in-box. There was paperwork for three new cases and two ongoing inquiries, an envelope from the Property Clerk Division, a receipt from one of the dispatchers who'd apparently sold to Ryo three pies (one cherry, one pecan, one pumpkin) on behalf of her daughter's band, and -- hel-lo, JJ thought, as a fat, unmarked file practically flipped itself open.. What in the world?

He stared at the file and its contents for a long, long time, and finally let out a low, disbelieving whistle. "Brilliant of you, Ryo. Storing it in the one place on your desk where Dee would never look..." He pulled his cellphone out of his vest and punched Ryo's speed-dial code. When the other detective picked up, he said, "It's JJ. Your instructions were fine, I found the file right away. ...Never mind that for now, I have a different question you need to answer."

"Sure, JJ. What's come up?"

JJ hauled in a deep breath before continuing, all too aware of what he himself was about to reveal. "That's quite a collection of threats you've received from Darlington's brother. Were you planning to tell Dee about them sometime this century?"

...to be continued...

once a fangirl...

2008-11-22T21:33:03Z

(1) There is currently a lovely, well-displayed origami exhibit at Toronto International Airport. Some of the fabulous creatures (a phoenix made out of twelve sheets of paper, for instance) made me think of you lot:

From UK 2008

(2) Bilingual in-flight magazine + gate announcements = pretty cool

(3) There's an echo-ey sculpture here called Titled Spheres. I couldn't resist a couple of "A-roo"s while walking through. *sheepish*

Now to go back to ~~throttling JJ~~ working on the fic-chapter I had hoped to wrap up last night. Damn those characters and their hidden depths! ;-)

BPAL notes

2008-11-21T08:52:44Z

Up way too late again with both work and writing, but the earlier part of the evening included a joint birthday dinner for my partner and another guy at a local bistro (cauliflower risotto, mmm). The woman who sat across from me is very scent-centred -- watching the way she savored the bouquet of her glass of pinot noir was like beholding a physical incarnation of bliss -- so, during coffee and port chez nous afterwards, I brought out my imps and bottles of BPAL, and she, her husband, and the Beautiful Young Man had a sniff-fest through the lot. Among the observations I want to remember:

- Everyone really liked "Men Ringing Bell With Penises." It really is a nifty scent.
- Same with "Embalming Fluid." Her husband: "I would wear it." Strong citrus note.
- She identified that "Veil" smells like fish oil + soap. It's my least favorite of the bottles I still own (= a gamble on a partial that didn't pan out), but the BYM likes "All Saints" even less.
- She agreed that "Sapphics" smells sparkly -- says it's the oak moss. Which is one of her favorite notes, as is tonka.
- "Caliban" = "very green."
- "To Helen" has electric ozone listed on the label, but she couldn't smell it.
- One of the scents reminded her of something by Guerlain, but I'm not remembering which one it is.
- "Asphodel" - her husband agreed that it definitely has honeysuckle; she says it definitely reminds her of the stems of daffodils.

Another observation from the evening is that the BYM and I really are Jack and Mrs. Sprat: when asked "Have you ever thought about selling all your possessions and just up and going somewhere else?", his answer was "Of course" and mine was "Hell no." In his case, he wouldn't have a destination in mind - he really is all about the fun of the journey and of movement, whereas I am a homebody (I do enjoy travel - very much so - but I am also happy not seeing much of anybody for several days on end while I work and nap and herd countless dustbunnies to their doom); that said, the BYM also noted that while he's keen on variety in certain respects, he craves consistency in everyday routines -- he has his rituals for waking up and going to bed, he wants things stored in the same place every time, and he has very definite ideas about how a dishwasher should be loaded -- whereas I constantly baffle him with my tendency to shove utensils, ingredients, books, and other parenphenalia into the nearest nook or drawer as I bash my way through whatever my day's priorities happen to be. (We usually end up having at least one stupid fight per long vacation because our styles are so different -- sharing the same room and the same vehicles for more than a couple days tends to exacerbate our tempers, which are both sizable. (And that's another major difference we've had to sort through -- I tend to repress my anger for months on end and then go ballistic, whereas he smashes everything within reach up front and then is back on keel.)) This long-term relationship thing, it is not boring...

FIC: Not as Dumb [FAKE, Ryo/Dee, Part 1 of 4]

2008-11-18T13:21:28Z

Title: Not As Dumb [1/4]
Author: bronze_ribbons
Rating: PG-13 for now, but heading towards R
Warnings: stalking, swearing, and other unsavory stuff
Word count for part 1: ~ 2000 words
Summary: Ryo receives a peculiar present. Dee doesn't like it one bit.
A/N: The prompt was "ryo/dee: handcuffs, police business"; I was thinking "teeny fluffy PWP with sweet bondage" when I claimed it, but then the plotbunny hopped sideways and all hell broke loose. Written for LJ-springkink (fall round - my assigned due date was Nov. 17).
Timeline: Several years after Like, Like, Love. Includes references to first season extras and second season (through "chapter 5," which was in HUG 2008/04). This story assumes that the SCIU was dissolved after a couple years and the guys all got transferred back to the 27th -- both for convenience's sake and because the building depicted in various panels of LLL is of the 27th rather than the 52nd.

When the first pair of handcuffs slid out of the padded envelope addressed to him, Ryo immediately narrowed his eyes at Dee. He hadn't recognized the block printing on the label, but he still half-expected to see his lover suggestively smirking or openly grinning at him.

Instead, Dee turned white as a sheet and then fainted dead away.

Ryo lunged forward, pulling Dee away from the floor lamp he had nearly crashed into as he fell. Forcing training to override panic, Ryo swiftly checked Dee's airways and pulse and -- crap, there wasn't anything within reach for elevating the legs. Circulation: Loosen any constricting clothing-- Dee's collar was already open, and his sleeves rolled up, so Ryo busied himself with undoing Dee's belt. He'd just pulled its tip free of the buckle when Dee stirred.

"Whaa-- whoa." Dee croaked out. Confused green eyes tried to focus on worried black ones. "What the hell happened? I usually feel a lot better than this when you're taking off my pants."

"I should hope so," Ryo said. "You usually don't faint at the sight of handcuffs, either."

"I don't-- oh. Oh shit. Those." Dee's indignation dissolved into dismay as he recalled the packet Ryo had opened. "Um, whadja do with them?"

Ryo waved vaguely toward the spot where he'd been standing, going through the mail. The handcuffs were on the floor nearby, their hard steel curves gleaning against weathered hardwood. They were a different model than the ones issued by the NYPD: the bracelets were connected by a thick black metal plate rather than a chain; from a distance, they resembled a distorted giant bottle opener.

"Ah." Dee swallowed. "Um, yeah. Bit of a story there."

"Tell it," Ryo ordered. "I'm not letting you sit up until you do."

"Woe is me," Dee joked. "I'll just have to let you do all the work."

Ryo grinned in spite of himself. "I didn't hear you complaining the last time I did."

"Huh," Dee said. "Maybe I should faint more often."

Ryo's grin instantly vanished. "Don't you dare."

Dee's eyes widened. "Did you just hit your head? You did not just think I was serious."

"Uhm..." Ryo looked both sheepish and pained. "Cripes. I do need a vacation, don't I."

Dee started to nod emphatically, but then winced -- he hadn't hit the floor hard, but it had caught him square on the side of his head. He settled for saying, "I've been telling you that for weeks. You oughta listen to me more."

"If I paid attention to half of the things you say, I'd never get anything done."

"That's not true. You'd be doing me more often--"

"Dee, you are so immature."

"I am not imma-- why the fuck are you smiling?"

"You sound so you," Ryo said, his voice suffused with open relief. "Not like someone who was out cold a minute ago."

Dee smiled back. "Nope, nothing to worry about."

"I didn't say that. You did faint, buddy." Ryo jerked his head toward the handcuffs. "Explain."

Dee scowled at the hoops, clearly wishing that they'd suddenly sink through the floor and disappear. When they failed to oblige him by doing so, he heaved a disappointed sigh.

Ryo tapped him on the nose. "The longer you stall, the more tempted I'm gonna be to cross-examine you."

"Jeez, Ryo, at least let me get in a few lies first." Dee aimed a last baleful glare at the handcuffs and then let his head fall back. "When I was a kid, there was a girl. Anna. Five, six years older than me, maybe? She worked at the orphanage for a couple of weeks. We were passing by a flea market, and there was a pair just like those. She claimed she knew some guy who'd pay good money for them, so I pinched them for her." Dee shrugged. "I didn't really believe her about the guy, but she was cute and I was bored."

Ryo rolled his eyes. "Didn't we collar some punk for something like that just last week? Thank God Bikky never wanted to impress anyone besides Carol."

"Carol wouldn't have been impressed by this. The guy I nicked the cuffs from, he was pretty out of it -- the way you tend to be, in fact."

"Brat." Annoyed, Ryo swatted at Dee, but Dee easily captured Ryo's hand before it could land on him. "So Anna was wildly impressed with your handcuff-stealing prowess?"

"She never did pay me, and she quit Mother's with no notice. Dude, you're ridiculous when you try to pretend you don't care." Dee chuckled as he blocked Ryo's other arm in mid-swing. "I'm jealous of everyone you've ever had a crush on too, so I like it when you're this stupid. Just as long as you're not freezing me out."

Ryo gave up and stretched out over Dee, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "patronizing prick." Dee sighed happily, enjoying the warm weight of Ryo's body on top of his and his lover's grumpy nuzzling at his shoulder.

If only he could keep the creeps and lunatics away from his Ryo. Dee thought he'd gotten a break when Berkeley Rose had finally married Diana Spacey; Rose hadn't actually hit on Ryo in years, but the commish being at last on Freakella's leash had still delighted Dee beyond measure. Their engagement had coincided with JJ Adams's deciding to leave him the fuck alone for good and transferring all the deranged tackleglomping and demented shrieks of "SENPAI!!!" to Drake, who had actually thrived as the target of the little maniac's adoration: in the course of dating JJ, Drake had become more physically fit and mentally agile than his friends had ever known him to be -- so much that it had surprised no one when he received his promotion to detective second grade the same year Ryo got graded up to first. Drake's transformation had started around the time that Bikky had left for college, which Dee had regarded as another gladsome milestone: fond as he'd become of the kid, Dee had been overjoyed at the prospect of more unadulterated adult-only Ryo-time up for grabs.

Looking back, Dee couldn't believe he'd been deluded enough to imagine their lives becoming less mayhem-ridden. There had been the tattoo artist who had kept sending them sketches that Ryo hadn't posed for -- lovingly rendered sketches in which he'd depicted his fantasies of a stark naked Ryo, wearing only the elaborate swirls of ink the man had longed to inscribe across Ryo's skin. There had been the cat hoarder who had secretly deposited a kitten in front of their apartment door every sixth day for three months -- and then tried to strangle Ryo with a knitted scarf when he'd admitted all of her intended love tokens had ended up at Animal Care & Control (Dee still couldn't believe Ryo had tried to reason with the woman; it was true that their lease didn't allow pets, but Ryo had been crazy to think that a crazy woman would have cared about that). There had been the oboe-playing freak who had repeatedly scaled up their building to serenade Ryo with off-key covers of Billy Joel songs; Dee would never forgive the guy for ruining "The Longest Time" for him, but he'd also laughed his ass off when JJ presented Ryo with a roll of toilet paper -- one with its sheets imprinted with the Piano Man's greatest hits.

There were also the people who hated Ryo because they hated cops, and then there were the people who really hated Ryo because he was really good at being a cop. Dee had his own enemies, of course, but Ryo somehow had a knack for collecting adversaries motivated enough to seek revenge on him. Dee was no Einstein, but he was justifiably proud of his ability to outsmart and outmaneuver said adversaries, regularly putting them back out of commission before their attempts on Ryo could succeed; when he got graded up to second, it had shocked the majority of his acquaintances and colleagues, but not the ones aware of his extended, exhaustive, and sometimes superhuman efforts to keep his partner healthy and whole. That the rest of society happened to benefit from his zeal was nice, but neither Rose nor Diana nor his friends at the 27th were under any illusions about its source: they all knew Dee was capable enough when he had someone specific to protect or rescue, such as a lost girl or a kidnapped boy or a threatened colleague, but whenever he detected danger specifically trying to sink its claws into his Ryo, Dee became not only dedicated but driven.

He usually had more to work with than handcuffs appearing out of nowhere, however. Tightening his arms around Ryo, Dee turned his head to glare at the mystery manacles.

"Is there anyone you can think of who might be trying to get at you through me?" Ryo's voice was deceptively calm. "Because, if there is, they had better think again before I run into them."

Dee said, "It wouldn't be Anna, if that's what you're wondering."

Ryo traced a scar on Dee's collarbone with his index finger. "You've kept track of her?"

"After she bailed on Mother, I forgot all about her -- didn't give her a thought for years. Not until my second month as a cop. Mikva and me, we answered a call about an apartment smelling nasty..."

Ryo quietly said, "Found her there, did you?"

"And the handcuffs too, around what was left of her wrists."

"Ever catch the perp?"

"No."

They fell silent again, each contemplating old memories and new unpleasant possibilities.

Eventually, Ryo suggested, "They might just be a prank."

"I'd really love to think that." Dee's expression was bleak.

"Then think that for now." Ryo slid his hands into Dee's. "No sense borrowing trouble ahead of time."

"What I think," Dee growled, "is that you're an insanity magnet."

"It's not my fault," Ryo protested. "It's not like I'm encouraging them."

"You're not," Dee conceded. "You don't have to. You're breathing, they're encouraged."

"Says the man who kissed me my second day on the job."

Dee didn't smile. "It's way more fun kissing you when you're into it," he said.

"Is it?" Ryo brushed his lips against Dee's, teasing.

Dee craned his head up to claim a real kiss. As Ryo pulled away, playfully delaying their mutual pleasure, Dee slid his fingers down to Ryo's wrists, holding them to the floor.

Ryo looked down at his captive hands, a thoughtful expression flickering across his face.

"You know, I've occasionally wondered why you've never tried to get me into handcuffs."

Dee stared at Ryo, his features creased with disbelief and consternation. "Is that really one of your fantasies? If it's something you want--"

"No, no," Ryo assured him. "Gear from work, in bed? Not arousing in the slightest."

"Oh, thank God for that," Dee breathed. "I'd do anything for you, Ryo -- even that -- but man, the sheer thought of it makes my skin crawl."

Watching Dee intently, Ryo slipped his right hand out of Dee's clasp and curled it over Dee's fingers, silently registering the panic and relief that flashed across his lover's face in quick succession -- so swiftly that he wouldn't have seen them at all, had he not long ago learned to look for them. He gently squeezed Dee's fingers.

"Hey," he murmured. "I don't need that kind of proof." He wriggled his hips against Dee's, his lips curving up as Dee's face instantly lit up with anticipation. "I should get back to taking off your pants, huh?"

"Hell yes." Dee punctuated his response by thrusting up against Ryo. Ryo laughed and pushed himself down to Dee's waist.

Part 2

on snipers and squid (3/3)

2008-11-15T20:08:00Z

...and, here we are. This is what arrived in the mail from the one and only amazingness that is busaikko-san:

Two snapshots of the squid-mobile. Yes, my dining room walls really are that color. The guys who owned the house before us painted right over a wallpaper with a deeply embossed fern-leaf pattern, which isn't visible in these pics but sort of lurks underneath all the scarlet...

Veggie-picks and a bento-case. My husband stared at these and plaintively asked, "And she sent these to you why?" Heh.

Kitty-chan! In preppy colors! The perfect accessory to the next hockey or basketball game I head to... *cue giggly scheming of subversive mayhem*

(And oh, there is indeed much mayhem planned. *manic grin* But first I need to reheat my tea and do some of the dances-with-PowerPoint that will help underwrite said mayhem, and to deter the dog from sticking her snout into a certain bag of mini-Reese's-cups I've set aside (smiles at aunty_marion), and to figure out how I'm actually going to end part 2 of the fic I've just meta-rambled about to y'all over the past three-odd posts. Onwards!)

on snipers and squid (2/3)

2008-11-15T19:38:07Z

[continued from this entry]

So what does this mean in terms of my fascination with Ryo Maclean and Dee Laytner?

One of the themes that I haven't seen much in FAKE fic is Ryo's experience/attitude as a sharpshooter - and when it's mentioned or addressed, it has often failed to ring true to me. I get the sense that many fans want Ryo (and Dee) to be more distressed and conflicted about killing than I believe the canon characters to be - and while I've enjoyed at least two fics in which Ryo comforts a Dee distraught at having to kill to save Ryo's life, it's been because it sets the guys up nicely for tense confrontations and great follow-up sex -- but I can't wholeheartedly rec said stories because I find the premise so implausible. Ryo is conflicted and dishonest with himself about many things, but I also believe he has a core ruthlessness (and, to a significant extent, a lack of sensitivity) underpinning his dealings with others, be they co-workers or criminals. I think the main drama of Ryo's reluctance to come out of the closet -- which is frequently (and understandably) interpreted as Ryo caring too much about what other people think -- tends to obscure the hints and instances in canon about Ryo not actually caring about being one of the guys. (That said, I have seen Ryo's superiority complex/condescension show up in bits of dialogue in several fics, so it's not that this possible aspect of the character has been wholly ignored -- it's more that I think it invites more exploration.)

There's a page in the extra to volume 3 where Ted complains how Ryo is even more of a "work my own way" guy than Dee is (and it's not a compliment -- to which Drake replies, "Those guys are both obtuse... but don't you think they suit each other?"). I find this exchange fascinating, as well as the first episode of season 2, because they add to the hints of Ryo's separated-ness from his co-workers that were glimpsed in the original series, such as his inability to resist calling them out on their behind-the-back bitching about the chief in v6. What's also intriguing is that, while there are notable moments when he seems less than thrilled with being alone (murmuring "so lonely" when he's sick in v1, his pep talk to himself on Christmas Eve, feeling down at the prospect of Bikky's departure to LA ), he doesn't seem to have made or kept many friends. This can simply be attributed to narrative necessities, if one prefers -- depicting Ryo's other friendships wouldn't have served the main drama in any way, and one could simply posit that Ryo's job doesn't leave him with enough time for any significant non-work friendships -- but I'm finding it fun to speculate how much of Ryo's alone-ness is as a result of trauma (cutting himself from others as a result of his parents' deaths, enrolling in the army instead of going to college, etc.), how much of it might be inherent to his personality, and how much of that factors into Dee's falling in love with him and vice versa. There's a moment in Season 2, chapter 1 that really illuminates that last point for me:

Dee: I'm completely different from those guys.
Ryo: Ted and Drake? I know.

Put another way: there's a definite chemistry between Ryo and Dee, and they both know it from the very first act, but there's far more to it than physical attraction. I suspect they both instantly (albeit subconsciously) recognize each other's "work my own way" streak and gravitate toward it long before either of them discovers how much they can truly depend on each other -- that they each resort to desperate measures without hesitation when the other needs to be saved from his own rage. It's a key part of their charisma - but it also sets them both apart from the rest of the gang, and that's where the sniper book I was reading last night (and articulating my reaction here) provided a big "click" in terms of where my understanding of Ryo (and, by extension, why Dee is so in love with Ryo) has been heading: I just don't see Ryo or Dee feeling the need to search their souls or agonize over the instances where they are ordered or forced to shoot to kill -- be it Max Fork or anyone else -- and, at the same time, I think Brookesmith's description of sniper-society dynamics suggests an interesting direction for explorations of Ryo, Dee, and JJ's characterizations in fic: how does being an accomplished sniper affect one's interactions with one's peers, and how might it determine the type of person one becomes attracted to? (E.g., is there something about Dee's supreme self-confidence that's catnip to guys with good aim?)

(And, on yet another tangent, it's probably no accident that I'm attracted to Ryo and Dee because of how they stand out apart from the herd: when you get right down to it, my basic Snape/Lupin dynamic could be summarized as "two guys who never truly had a prayer of fitting in with the rest of society eventually realize that their soulmate is someone likewise deeply damaged and similarly ruthless when circumstances and/or love compels him to be."

*rereads last tangent* And I wonder why my PWPs invariably spiral out of control? Jeez, Ribbons, talk about self-honesty...)

(And all of this said, I'm not sure I'll be doing any justice to the theme within the current fic -- it's not where the plot sprang from, and it's not the kind of story I've previously spent much time trying to write -- but it is giving some shape to part 3 that hadn't materialized before last night, which is good, because I really do want to finish this sucker sometime before Valentine's Day...)

[still with me? the squid'll be up in a minute, in the next post]

on snipers and squid (1/3)

2008-11-15T17:19:55Z

So, yesterday ended up draining me a bit more than I expected - estate stuff in the morning and extended wrangling with technology in the afternoon - so I treated myself to a margarita with dinner (brisket-avocado-spinach quesadillas at the Alley Cat), which was tasty but also made me too sleepy to socialize afterwards, so I headed up to bed soon after we got home.

Since I'm currently obsessed with sussing out the springkink-fic is heading, I picked up Peter Brookesmith's Sniper: Training, Techniques and Weapons (St. Martin's, 2000) for a bit of reading, which turned out to be the perfect choice. You know that happy moment when a character comes into sharper focus at multiple levels -- that is, not just the version you're writing for a fic, but the one within the confines of canon? I went to sleep happy, because I've had several clicks of that kind during the course of drafting parts 1 and 2 of this fic (including one last week where I wrote a sentence, reread it, and only then realized, "Holy shit, so that's part of their dynamic too").

[The daft thing is that all of this excitement is extraneous to the actual story -- it's about how writing the story intensifies my pleasure in being a fan, and wholly irrelevant in terms of whether other people will find the fic sufficiently engaging or entertaining. On the down side, I feel more than a bit foolish expending this much time and mental energy on a fic that maybe seven people will read and two might actually like (the fandom is small). On the up side, it's exhilarating when a story insists on shoving me out of my ordinary groove and into a new-to-me landscape (which would be why you patient ones end up with all these teal deers about process galloping atcha).]

Anyhow, last night's unexpected revelations came when I was reading Brookesmith's discussions about how snipers are regarded by their fellow soldiers:

...snipers are rarely regarded with unalloyed gratitude or admiration by those on their own side. A sniper may be respected, even held in awe, for his peculiar skills, but he can't expect to be popular. In part, perhaps, this is becuase most soldiers feel there is something faintly immoral or unfair about the sniper's one-way trade in death. (p. 67)

... One might fairly surmise that most infantrymen find the sniper a difficult figure to contend with because he makes their stock-in-trade -- death -- all too uncomfortably clear. It is not easy to kill a fellow human, no matter how extreme the circumstances. Taking life is made less painful and onerous for the infantryman by training, indoctrination, and the impersonality and confusion of the average firefight. His weapons drop vague figures barely discerned at distances beyond any point of real recognition. There is an overriding desire to survive -- to end the oncoming threat to one's own life.

Possibly most critical (and comforting) in the heat of a conventional infantry engagement is the knowledge that one is surrounded and supported by mates and buddies. ... And when one is side-by-side with them in the battle, it is often impossible to know exactly who may have killed which particular enemy. In this way, personal responsibility for breaking the commandment "thou shalt not kill" is shared and diluted among a group of one's peers. The group as a whole can further, and usually fairly, plead in mitigation that, in any case, it was killing in self-defence.

In contrast, the sniper positively seeks to be a killer, and to kill in what most would regard as cold blood. But he is also prepared to take full responsibility for the deaths he causes. ... The sniper cannot fudge the issue in any of these ways. Nor would he want to, if the reflections of dedicated snipers on their work are any guide. Moral camouflage is the one kind of concealment that the sniper has to eschew.

The sniper is an outsider, regarded as a maverick even within his own profession ... in failing to deny or obscure that his trade is in death, he fails to acknowledge any great conformity with the herd, be it military or civil. ... it's a fact of life that most people are made a trifle nervous by egregious characters -- people who are just that little disconcerting bit more different or dedicated than the average.

...To be a sniper means finding a place within the military or the police, but that means living as an outsider in a subculture where conformity and convention are necessarily paramount, and which furthermore is one very long step removed from the peaceful easy self-direction of "civilian" life. Thus, the sniper is doubly isolated from the social conventions of both the broad and narrow societies within which he lives. Royal Marine Mick Harrison positively embraced his solitude as a sniper:

I didn't bother with any back-up; it was just me against them. The sniper is the loneliest bloke in the world, and that's how I liked it. When I came back, the others could smell it on you, and they all wanted to get away. You didn't have any friends.

[continued in the next entry...]

KYAHHHHHHHH! flails happily

2008-11-13T02:19:10Z

Busaikko-san, you are a NUT. And I freaking adore you. Domo arigato gozaimasu!!!

(A surprise package showed up today. From Japan. Its treasures include a squid-mobile. Photo TK!)

Writing log
LJ-springkink fic: finally broke past the paragraph I'd been pummelling into existence the past two days. 935 words today + some new insights on canon + several hours of research ...and an unexpected OMC, who ended up being a major reason the additional research became necessary. (And most of it won't even appear in the story -- it's just me wanting my timelines and schedules to correspond at least glancingly with canon and reality.) Seriously - 652 words in, I tried to put some words into a canon character's mouth, but they didn't ring true, and I couldn't think of anyone else who would say them -- and then the OMC suddenly sauntered into the scene with both a name and a personality, and the dialogue's got the right snap to it again, and his presence sorts out some other plot issues I hadn't dealt with yet, but ACK, this started out as a short fluffy PWP and so far there's been one belt unbuckled. Why have I not learned to run like hell whenever a prompt crooks its finger at me and asks, "Got a minute?"?

Yuletide fic: wrote the first half of the first line last night. The assignment is very well-suited to me, and yet it's something I wouldn't prompt myself into writing on my own, so yay algorithm!

Dear Yuletide Writer...

2008-11-11T22:12:57Z

I rambled so much in my prompts to you that I feel talking more about them here is kinda overkill - especially since I can't think of too many things I'd be absolutely, irrevocably dead-set against seeing in a fic if it's what it takes to make the plotbunny hop. Plus, y'know, you've agreed to write FAKE, Harudaki, or Vorkosiganverse fic for meeeeeeeee, and that's just so incredibly wicked cool all by its shiny self.

Still, since I was so rambly, here's a more succinct summary of my tastes:

(1) I prefer fic set in the future, about grownups.
(2) Competency is arguably my biggest kink. I really enjoy getting to see Katou excelling at acting, Ryo showing that he can be as much of a badass as Dee, Ivan and By unintentionally demonstrating that there's much more to them than their reputations -- that sort of thing...
(3) I'm not keen on preg or kids or cross-dressing - male or female. Nothing against any of it in real life, just not my thing fic-wise.
(4) Any rating is fine.
(5) Gen is fine.
(6) Crossovers are fine.
(7) Please don't name-drop real-life celebrities or brands if you can help it. Like my anti-uber-domesticity, this is not a judgment but a personal allergy -- it tends to eject me out of happy, cozy, escapist fic-enjoyingness when I stumble upon it.
(8) That said, crack guest appearances from other fictional universes can make me giggle for hours, if you happen to enjoy foolishness like that. So, should you be visited by an urge to sneak a Tardis or a Whomping Willow or a plum tree (pace Jo's Boys) or a ginger cat (pace Busman's Honeymoon) into the background anywhere (or shipping any of those with a minor character, heh), feel free.
(9) Seriously? Don't take anything on this list too seriously. These are hints, not ironclad rules. Did I mention how thrilled I am that you're writing for me? Thank you for offering the fandom(s) that matched you up with me, and I'm so looking forward to seeing what you come up with!

Warmest regards,
Mechaieh

masterlist - FAKE

2008-11-11T01:58:46Z

Not As Dumb (WIP - 4 parts planned): Part 1 (2000 words). Part 2 (6800 words). Ryo/Dee and others.

When the Night Falls on You. 2000+ words. Ryo/Dee and others.

Forward. Seven linked drabbles about Bikky.

A Little Bit of Sugar. 265 words. Severus Snape/Rikka Kaito.

Lolita 1, Love 0. Two-minute comment-fic challenge. Ryo and Dee.

Because I Love You More Than I Can Say. 2850 words. R. Ryo/Dee and Iwaki/Katou (Harudaki). Sequel to "Fair to See."

Harried. Severus Snape/Dee Laytner. Not a nice drabble.

Fair to See - drabble. Ryo/Dee and Iwaki/Katou (Harudaki).

The Randy "Ryo" Maclean fanlisting The Dee Laytner fanlisting

It may be...

2008-11-08T19:22:10Z

...that one's spent too much time writing HP fic when one types "to snape out a comeback" and, for a brief-yet-too-long second, it doesn't look wrong.

Finished revising part 1 of the brain-chewing-up fic a minute ago. There was a single paragraph that took like fifteen drafts and WAY too many hours to get right. I'm not feeling sanguine about my ability to finish the damn thing on time, but there'll be at least 2000 words to post by then, and probably another 2K: it's one of those fics I can't not work on, even though it won't be all that special and I'm unlikely to net many comments for it, because I'm in love with how it's making me learn more about the characters and the world they're from, which in turn keeps reshaping the story in my head, which in turn forces me to consider how and where to place certain scenes and stretches of dialogue within the story (part of the problem with the first draft of part 1 is that some of it didn't need to be in the story at all, and some of it needs to not show up in the story until part 2 or even part 3).

(All that said, writing "Those I Can Save" was like this, and that turned out well, so hey, maybe my brain will crank into full gear now that it's finally squished itself through ~~that Strait of Messina~~ The Paragraph That Would Not Gel...)

Bookmarking lots of goodies to read later (like in January, at this point), but I couldn't resist checking out LJ-ladycat777's bit about Barack Obama discovering the Stargate Program, which includes this gem:

It could be a test, but Barack doesn't think so. At least, not the kind of aggressive, thrust-chinned tests he's still being given by most of the military personnel he meets. Winning them over is frustratingly slow going, but it's not unexpected and Barack knows he can out-stubborn anyone but his wife.

yuletide and yarghety

2008-11-03T01:01:24Z

Very fried and frustrated with self at the moment, but I also got told after this morning's sermon that I had beautiful hands. I'll seize my cheer where I can...

A Massive (Literally) Guilty Pleasure: reading through the ginormous RPF character lists on the Yuletide Master List of Fandoms/Characters. (Nothing against RPF, but these are Really Long Lists and I Ought to Be Doing things that Pay the Mortgage, but they comprise such a staggering collection of recorded geekery/potential horror that I cannot tear my eyes away.)

And I'm trying to resist the temptation of "RPF-20th c. Scientists," but it's going to be a near, near thing.

I am also exceedingly amused that the RPFs on the ineligible fandom list (for not being rare/obscure) are "The Daily Show" and "Good Eats/Mythbusters."

Here's the official pre-signup info post with lots of useful links on how to have the mostest fun at the clambake.

I don't know if it'll be on this year's list, but I did catch sight of Verbotene Liebe on the Master List.... *cheerfully baiting friendlist*

Sorted out some of the off-kilteredness of the current fic (currently at 2K), at least in terms of identifying where its dead spots are. I don't know if I can fix them in fourteen days, so, I dunno. For now the plan is to keep researching/writing it at full scale and then to scrape out some sort of stand-alone drabble if need be.

bronze_ribbons @ 2008-11-01T03:11:00

2008-11-01T10:56:54Z

New fic: When the Night Falls on You (FAKE, Ryo/Dee (and arguably Lupin/Snape, heh), 2000 words), in honor of lore.

busaikko!Snupin sighting: The Muggle War, an unfinished piece. This was for a Fantasy Fest request I'd made before DH, which was worth it not only for what did get written, but also for the discussions preceding it (I'd forgotten karasu_hime's reaction to my anon comment -- rereading it just now made me grin like a maniac. And further up in the comments there's Lore not-so-innocently observing that the prompt might have been cast as busaikko-bait to begin with).

Speaking of being a maniac, I'm now up to 1479 words and ~~five~~ six bulletpoints on the current fic. It's reminding me of a conversation I had with my friend J. a week or so ago, when we were talking about choosing to write novels vs. short stories vs. fic vs. poems, and whether people had certain formats/lengths that worked best for them, which got me to thinking about how I often average 500-1200 words for things that start out as drabbles, 3000-5000 words for things I start sketching as 500-word ficlets, and 11,000-18,000 words for fests with a 1K or 3K minimum. (The current fic is already well past LJ-springkink's 100-word minimum, and it's heading into multi-chapter territory. Which -- arrgh. If I can't scrape together enough time to do it some semblance of justice, I may have to resort to Plan B, which will be to write a separate one-shot drabble and to post the current fic off-date.)

I ended up saying to J. that, for me, the prompt or plot ends up dictating how long the piece is going to be. I tend to go for shorter formats because that's what I have time to write and read (and because, in the case of drabbles, keeping strictly to 100 words is actually a form of stress relief), but when I'm (1) devising a gift for someone, (2) in the mood to pick a fight with canon, (3) in the mood to pick a fight with fanon, (4) brainwormed with an opening line that's demanding a story to follow it, (5) brainwormed with a line of dialogue that's demanding a story to go around it, and/or (6) haunted by a mental image that's demanding a story to bring it to life, I'm inevitably surprised by where the bunny hops. It will invariably be way more interesting than what I originally had in mind, and unfortunately more complicated and therefore more daunting, and occasionally require library books I can't get my mitts on in time. (It also usually doesn't throw me for a loop right at sentence #2 -- hence yesterday's wailing.)

J. and I also ended up talking about why one ends up lavishing time on long pieces that can't be submitted to pro markets. There are plenty of valid reasons that countless people have enumerated elsewhere; in my case, reasons 1, 2, 3 listed above are compelling enough for me to write stories (and, more importantly, to finish them) even when I'm not expecting much in the way of feedback, never mind pay.

On a related note, I've lately found myself initially thinking up a story within a fanfic framework and then, as I start working out the logistics, realizing it would work better with my own characters/setting. I'm just now realizing that this often has to do with whether the plot springs out of reasons 1 - 3, or out of 4 - 6: I write fanfic when I want to indulge in in-jokes, to poke at character- or world-specific dynamics that aren't sitting right with me, or when I feel there's more to a character (or scenario) that I haven't seen canon/fanon address, or when I catch sight of an irresitably daft exchange or prompt. But when it's reason 4, 5, 6 -- be it a Japanese actor patting a red penguin in Louisville, or a Manhattan pickpocket becoming an accountant -- I know a story isn't meant to be fanfic when canon starts to feel confining rather than inspiring. (For instance, I have five pages of notes + timeline and at least two false starts for "When the Night Falls on You," which was originally called "Figures" and featured several ridiculously elaborate subplots that would have been hell on handstands to render with any verisimilitude on their own, never mind squished with any plausibility into a canon where the mangaka herself is notorious for Not Having Done the Research.)

Put another way, when I get bogged down by logistics -- e.g., when character A performing action B in universe C would violate the space-time continuum in thirteen dimensions, as well as the character's canon-recorded behavior seven hundred pages back, it's time to ask myself what is more important for the story in question: character A, action B, and/or universe C. If it's character A, then fanfic is the only answer. If it's action B, canon baggage can throw a character's ability to enact the action out of whack. If it's universe C, this is the point where I generally realize I don't know near enough to work on the story yet and it gets shelved for a year or five.

That isn't the whole of it, of course, and I'm going to stress that this is me speaking just for myself at this moment in time. Other writers have different thresholds and requirements: some of my friends wouldn't dream of starting a fic without a full-bore outline, and one reader's stretch of Tedious Exposition is another reader's Absolutely Vital Set-up. I spent way too much time dithering over a paragraph yesterday that kept snagging me when I reread it: it had a Showing My Work vibe to it that I just couldn't shake, but I'm not ready to delete it yet -- I think those details belong in the story, the dopey author just needs to herd the right words into place.

[On a side note, I really, really should know better than to visit tvtropes.com at this hour. I nearly quit writing two minutes ago after reading the entry on Badass Bookworms (OMG SO GUILTY...*flails*), but dudes, now I'm going to have to try writing a Crouching Moron Hidden Badass, just because.

oh, saints and styluses, I thought I'd escaped it this year

2008-10-31T02:31:06Z

*stares with dismay at the sentence I've just written*

WHERE THE HELL DID YOU COME FROM AND WHAT THE HELL DO I DO NOW?

Send plot-hatchets. Fic eating head. *whimper*

ETA 1:11 a.m.: 669 words tonight. Go me! *wipes drops of blood off brow and falls into bed*

eggplant!Slytherin sighting! (and a subsequent fit of nostalgia)

2008-10-30T15:00:42Z

Via snottygrrl: LJ-red_rahl's Ripe for the Taking. Featuring, in the artist's words, "Eggplant!Draco/Tomato!Harry, Vaguely-Snape-looking!Avocados (the pervy bastards)."

...which naturally prompted me to revisit karasu_hime illustration of frottage with eggplant!Snape and carrot!Lupin in the comments of pixychelle's "Through the Looking Glass" (part 4). [The entry is locked to the LJ-pervy_werewolf comm; however, there's an unlocked follow-up sketch of veggie!Snupin + onion!Chelle at Chelle's LJ.]

[And if you're a fan of Snupin and/or cracktasticness who hasn't read "Through the Looking Glass" yet, it's available at Journalfen - click "4" for the eggplant/carrot, "9" for the Squid/Willow!Snupin BDSM (yes, it was written for me), and the outtake for Snape's explanation for why the Death Eaters stopped playing D&D.]

[There are also crocheted eggplant/carrots bouncing around in Snupindom, thanks to stasia. (I'm out of time this morning, so no link here, but I did glimpse photos of them a while back and they were adorable.)]

voted today

2008-10-23T22:26:47Z

It took five minutes at the Madison (TN) library branch. I ♥ early voting.

On a related theme: http://yeswecarve.com/

:-)

Today was also my first session as a reader for Nashville Talking Library. I've been assigned Sally Gardner's The Red Necklace, a YA novel that's received great reviews; I'm a-gonna borrow my own copy from the library before my next shift, both because I want to check some pronunciations ahead of time and because I really want to know what happens next. :-)

from the Dept. of Manga in the Mainstream

2008-10-22T16:00:32Z

In this morning's New York Times, there's an article about "The Drops of the Gods", a manga about wine that etrangere reviewed just last week in her LJ (French title: Le Gouttes de Dieu).

Why did the Times judge the series newsworthy? "Since coming out of nowhere four years ago, this 20-something Japanese would-be sommelier [the lead character] has quickly become the most influential voice in Asia’s wine markets. In Tokyo, wine sellers monitor his weekly pronouncements before adjusting their stocks accordingly."

bronze_ribbons @ 2008-10-22T10:22:00

2008-10-22T15:26:37Z

Via LJ-matociquala: The 2008 presidental slugfest as a D&D session. Move beverages away from keyboard before you click.