The Right Fit
Dec. 25th, 2011 04:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jackofknavesTitle: The Right Fit
Author:jackofknaves
Rating: G
Pairing: Fred/Fanny Durkin.
Summary: The right fit is a matter of comfort.
Fred Durkin was doomed to be one of those fellows who was perpetually awkward. Suits stretched wide at the shoulders and bulged at the waist, and if the pants legs were the same, then his legs’ lengths were not. His feet were too wide for regular shoes, and his hats constantly pulled up so that he had to tug on the brim until they folded forward unattractively. He had a broad, flat nose and eyes a space too close together, a mouth that was a little too wide, and ears set too high for his face. He fit awkwardly elsewhere, as well. When he was younger, the desks squashed him uncomfortably and, thanks to an unfortunate early growth spurt, he was constantly hitting his head on low branches and small door frames. Words never fit well in his mouth; they strained and stumbled and fell out like bricks, laying just as awkwardly in conversations as their owner.
Fanny Soletti was big and tall for a girl, built like a military wall and twice as formidable. She had a thick waist that she tried to define with narrowed, hourglass dresses that fooled no one. Whatever one could say about her, and much was said, rest assured, she was not in any way awkward. Her parents, seeing what a strapping young girl they were raising, desperately scrounged for enough money to send their daughter to dancing and etiquette lessons before the first signs of clumsiness had time to show. Despite her wide feet she glided easily across rooms, and she sat in chairs as gracefully as a queen, and pronounced every word out of her mouth sharp and clear.
Fred was madly in love with her from the beginning, and though she had never paid him much attention before, she would grow to be madly in love with him. They were both tall and broad, but they were also both terribly loyal, affable, and gentle people. It was enough.
They dated since he was an awkward sixteen and she a graceful fifteen. She was sitting with a few close girl friends, giggling and chattering excitedly, as fifteen year old girls are apt to do, when he shuffled up to her seat and stared at the floor as he mumbled, “Can I buy you a soda?”
The words tumbled out and were indistinct, but the spark of adoration in his eyes was not. Even, or maybe especially, at the tender age of fifteen, Fanny knew this blushing boy would be her husband one day.
She smiled at him, showing a full row of teeth, and said clearly, “I would like that.”
Fred Durkin, who had fit awkwardly all of his life, found that he fit quite nicely in Fanny’s arms, and she in his.
Their wedding was set for August 19, and since neither family had much money, they gathered what they could and it was a modest affair. Fanny's mother sobbed the entire wedding, and not out of joy, and the cake tasted odd without much salt or butter, and Fred’s suit did not fit quite right, but they looked at each other, madly in love, and forgot to notice any of it.
Several cynics sitting in the back of the church whispered things like, “I give them five months, tops” and “Let them try and eat love, that’s what I say,”, but these were ignored in Fred and Fanny’s simple, gentle way.
Fifteen months later, Frederick John Durkin was born, and Fred thought he was the most graceful thing he had ever seen and told Fanny so, where she lay panting on the bed, her hair pasted to her broad forehead in sweaty wet curls.
A year after that, Elaine Sarah was born (in an effort to appease Fanny’s mother, Elaine, who still had not entirely forgiven her daughter for marrying such a clumsy, awkward man), then Francine Madeline, then Johnny Nolan after that.
Fred and Fanny loved each one as much as the first, even when they lived in a cramped apartment and had to share one bed for warmth during winter, or the time Fred, Jr. and Elaine thought it would be interesting to see what Johnny would do if he got a hold of a half-full paint can someone had left in the hall.
Fanny had a tough, loving hand. One moment she was seen with her hair falling out of her bun in unordered strands and grabbing hold of collars as they flew past her, hand paddling any bottom within reach, then the next moment cuddling her loved ones to her apron and smoothing their hair back with rough hands. Mama was adored, feared and loved fiercely.
Fred, on the other hand, was simply adored by all his children without condition. While he worked various jobs trying to find steady work, they felt no shame, and when he came home exhausted and discouraged, he never failed to provide a lap to sit on or an arm to cuddle into. When Mama threw a fit and yelled and threw pots in the kitchen, he would mimic her while the children smothered their giggles behind tiny hands.
“Oh, so you think that’s funny?” Mama said one day, appearing in the doorway between the kitchen and front room. Her hands were on her hips as she watched Fred’s face turn red at being caught. Her words were as sharp as always, but her eyes were laughing and smiling. She chased him around the apartment with a pan as he ducked and ran, while the children alternated between cheering on Mama, then Daddy.
They were still madly in love, but as the cynical wedding goers noted, you could not eat love. They lay in the comfort of each others arms one night when Fanny soothed her husband’s hand between hers.
“What is it?” she whispered.
Fred’s voice was hesitant in the darkness. “I got an offer. A man said that I have a good eye. He said that I could be a private detective, maybe.”
Fanny was an intelligent woman, and so she said, “What’s the problem?”
“The license costs money we don’t have,” Fred said.
“We’ll find a way,” she said, kissing him good night and already beginning to plan what they could do without.
Fanny, a more than capable wife, would have been a business shark if she had not gotten married so early. She was shrewd and held bickering as an art form--this could not be held against her, as any woman finding herself with four children will quickly learn to bicker in self defense--and the money was earned painstakingly and slowly. When they finally had enough, Fred went and got his license and began bringing home a steady, if not modest, paycheck.
Two years later, Fred opened the door and let his children cling to him while he laughed and hugged them all.
“Fanny!” he said, putting an arm around her thick waist and swinging her around the kitchen. “I got paid today!”
He showed her the money excitedly, whistling a snatch of tune. “We’ll go dancing,” he continued, winking at Johnny, who stared at the money in frank amazement. “And I’ll buy you a red silk dress, and a matching hat.” He twirled her around, to the children’s delight. Fanny watched him indulgently, a smile on her face. “And I’ll buy you dinner at the best restaurant, and with the best wine.”
Fanny shook her head and placed her square hands on her husband’s face.
“We’ll put the money in the bank,” she said firmly. “And you will continue to work hard and be loyal to Nero Wolfe. He’s a good man, who pays well.”
Fred nodded. “He’s a genius.”
“Dad,” whined the youngest, “did you get the bad guy again?”
“Sure did, bud,” Fred said, hauling Francie under one arm. “Want to hear about it?”
Fanny smiled from the kitchen as she heard Fred’s awkward voice telling the story as smoothly as reading a book.
It felt good to know there was another place where her husband fit.
Author:
jackofknavesRating: G
Pairing: Fred/Fanny Durkin.
Summary: The right fit is a matter of comfort.
Fred Durkin was doomed to be one of those fellows who was perpetually awkward. Suits stretched wide at the shoulders and bulged at the waist, and if the pants legs were the same, then his legs’ lengths were not. His feet were too wide for regular shoes, and his hats constantly pulled up so that he had to tug on the brim until they folded forward unattractively. He had a broad, flat nose and eyes a space too close together, a mouth that was a little too wide, and ears set too high for his face. He fit awkwardly elsewhere, as well. When he was younger, the desks squashed him uncomfortably and, thanks to an unfortunate early growth spurt, he was constantly hitting his head on low branches and small door frames. Words never fit well in his mouth; they strained and stumbled and fell out like bricks, laying just as awkwardly in conversations as their owner.
Fanny Soletti was big and tall for a girl, built like a military wall and twice as formidable. She had a thick waist that she tried to define with narrowed, hourglass dresses that fooled no one. Whatever one could say about her, and much was said, rest assured, she was not in any way awkward. Her parents, seeing what a strapping young girl they were raising, desperately scrounged for enough money to send their daughter to dancing and etiquette lessons before the first signs of clumsiness had time to show. Despite her wide feet she glided easily across rooms, and she sat in chairs as gracefully as a queen, and pronounced every word out of her mouth sharp and clear.
Fred was madly in love with her from the beginning, and though she had never paid him much attention before, she would grow to be madly in love with him. They were both tall and broad, but they were also both terribly loyal, affable, and gentle people. It was enough.
They dated since he was an awkward sixteen and she a graceful fifteen. She was sitting with a few close girl friends, giggling and chattering excitedly, as fifteen year old girls are apt to do, when he shuffled up to her seat and stared at the floor as he mumbled, “Can I buy you a soda?”
The words tumbled out and were indistinct, but the spark of adoration in his eyes was not. Even, or maybe especially, at the tender age of fifteen, Fanny knew this blushing boy would be her husband one day.
She smiled at him, showing a full row of teeth, and said clearly, “I would like that.”
Fred Durkin, who had fit awkwardly all of his life, found that he fit quite nicely in Fanny’s arms, and she in his.
Their wedding was set for August 19, and since neither family had much money, they gathered what they could and it was a modest affair. Fanny's mother sobbed the entire wedding, and not out of joy, and the cake tasted odd without much salt or butter, and Fred’s suit did not fit quite right, but they looked at each other, madly in love, and forgot to notice any of it.
Several cynics sitting in the back of the church whispered things like, “I give them five months, tops” and “Let them try and eat love, that’s what I say,”, but these were ignored in Fred and Fanny’s simple, gentle way.
Fifteen months later, Frederick John Durkin was born, and Fred thought he was the most graceful thing he had ever seen and told Fanny so, where she lay panting on the bed, her hair pasted to her broad forehead in sweaty wet curls.
A year after that, Elaine Sarah was born (in an effort to appease Fanny’s mother, Elaine, who still had not entirely forgiven her daughter for marrying such a clumsy, awkward man), then Francine Madeline, then Johnny Nolan after that.
Fred and Fanny loved each one as much as the first, even when they lived in a cramped apartment and had to share one bed for warmth during winter, or the time Fred, Jr. and Elaine thought it would be interesting to see what Johnny would do if he got a hold of a half-full paint can someone had left in the hall.
Fanny had a tough, loving hand. One moment she was seen with her hair falling out of her bun in unordered strands and grabbing hold of collars as they flew past her, hand paddling any bottom within reach, then the next moment cuddling her loved ones to her apron and smoothing their hair back with rough hands. Mama was adored, feared and loved fiercely.
Fred, on the other hand, was simply adored by all his children without condition. While he worked various jobs trying to find steady work, they felt no shame, and when he came home exhausted and discouraged, he never failed to provide a lap to sit on or an arm to cuddle into. When Mama threw a fit and yelled and threw pots in the kitchen, he would mimic her while the children smothered their giggles behind tiny hands.
“Oh, so you think that’s funny?” Mama said one day, appearing in the doorway between the kitchen and front room. Her hands were on her hips as she watched Fred’s face turn red at being caught. Her words were as sharp as always, but her eyes were laughing and smiling. She chased him around the apartment with a pan as he ducked and ran, while the children alternated between cheering on Mama, then Daddy.
They were still madly in love, but as the cynical wedding goers noted, you could not eat love. They lay in the comfort of each others arms one night when Fanny soothed her husband’s hand between hers.
“What is it?” she whispered.
Fred’s voice was hesitant in the darkness. “I got an offer. A man said that I have a good eye. He said that I could be a private detective, maybe.”
Fanny was an intelligent woman, and so she said, “What’s the problem?”
“The license costs money we don’t have,” Fred said.
“We’ll find a way,” she said, kissing him good night and already beginning to plan what they could do without.
Fanny, a more than capable wife, would have been a business shark if she had not gotten married so early. She was shrewd and held bickering as an art form--this could not be held against her, as any woman finding herself with four children will quickly learn to bicker in self defense--and the money was earned painstakingly and slowly. When they finally had enough, Fred went and got his license and began bringing home a steady, if not modest, paycheck.
Two years later, Fred opened the door and let his children cling to him while he laughed and hugged them all.
“Fanny!” he said, putting an arm around her thick waist and swinging her around the kitchen. “I got paid today!”
He showed her the money excitedly, whistling a snatch of tune. “We’ll go dancing,” he continued, winking at Johnny, who stared at the money in frank amazement. “And I’ll buy you a red silk dress, and a matching hat.” He twirled her around, to the children’s delight. Fanny watched him indulgently, a smile on her face. “And I’ll buy you dinner at the best restaurant, and with the best wine.”
Fanny shook her head and placed her square hands on her husband’s face.
“We’ll put the money in the bank,” she said firmly. “And you will continue to work hard and be loyal to Nero Wolfe. He’s a good man, who pays well.”
Fred nodded. “He’s a genius.”
“Dad,” whined the youngest, “did you get the bad guy again?”
“Sure did, bud,” Fred said, hauling Francie under one arm. “Want to hear about it?”
Fanny smiled from the kitchen as she heard Fred’s awkward voice telling the story as smoothly as reading a book.
It felt good to know there was another place where her husband fit.
