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#but frasier and niles would bc they are cringefail and overly involved
gracegrove · 1 year
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Harringrove 90s au/Frasier crossover
Tw for: implied panic attack, implied depression, mental health themes, implied dark-ish/teensy bit angsty, era-appropriate sexuality stereotyping
It's 1994 and Steve is a mover and shaker in the hot, hot, hot real estate market of the Seattle metropolitan area. Finding a slump in his mood and a slow in his lunch hour between daily showings, Steve begins calling in to a popular local radio show on KACL for an emotional pick-me-up with radio personality and psychiatrist, Dr. Frasier Crane.
At first Steve is just a passive listener, but after hearing first hand during his lengthy commutes, how this soothsaying guru can calm and put the pep back in his caller's days Steve gives him a call.
"I dunno Doc, I just don't have that spark anymore..." He sighs into his cellular phone from the driver's seat of his year-model Buick. "Y'know what I mean? Like, it felt like everything was in my grasp and now it's just..." He grumbled in frustration.
The psychiatrist chuckled warmly through the phone line, "well Steve, a lot can change a man over time. When would you say you last felt that spark?"
Steve looked out the car window, caramel eyes reflecting upon the Puget Sound but his mind seeing the soft rolling hills and shallow valleys of central Indiana. Thoughts settling over gentle golden curls waving in the breeze.
"Steve? Are you still with us?" The radio host coaxed.
Steve opened his eyes, the vision fading from view. "Yeah. I'm here..."
Steve progressively becomes a regular call-in. Sharing more overtime about how he left behind 'a special someone' and how he regrets and second guesses so much about his life because of it. Thinking "if only I'd stayed. If only I'd told them how much they really meant to me". Feeling that his life really doesn't amount to much because of the decisions he made, or didn't... in the past. The radio host's producer, Roz, begins an unofficial fan club for Steve. Cheering him on, and giving him small pep talks each time he is in the call queue to talk with Dr. Crane. "Hey kid, how's it going today? How'd that date go? She sounded real nice! Things'll look up!"
Approximately a year later, Billy moves to Seattle picking up a transfer from his employer, hoping that working for the company's flagship will help him climb the pay scale faster. And leave the local union politicking and small-town, big-ego dickwads in his rearview mirror.
Things have improved somewhat for Billy over the years but it's still not great, and he seeks the services of a local psychiatrist, Dr. Niles Crane. Billy works with Dr. Crane to unpack and explore how his past experiences may have influenced his "current level of functioning", or so Dr. Crane says. They do a lot of daydreaming, picturing, and hypothetical scenarios that Billy sometimes despises and other times finds amusing. He also finds Dr. Crane's neurotic disposition rather endearing and thus decides to remain a loyal patient for the time being.
Cut to Billy's third month living in Seattle when it happens. He suffers a major setback. Calling Dr. Crane's emergency number in a panic. He can't breathe, he's hyperventilating and speaking so frantically that Dr. Crane can hardly understand him.
"Billy, you sound so terribly upset. I know that we discussed rather hefty themes in session this week. What's going on?" Dr. Crane's chittery voice spoke, encompassing the gravity of the moment.
"Him..." Billy gulped down air, his throat dry and lungs burning. "I saw him today. He was never supposed to be here." Billy moaned in distress.
"Take a breath Billy, and one, two, three, four, five. Out." His psychiatrist prompted him. "This is highly unusual indeed. I can understand now why you are so concerned." The sound of papers rustled on the other end of the phone. "Billy, would you like to come in sooner?"
A shaken exhale, "Yes."
Meanwhile somewhere else in Seattle Steve is the brightest he's been in years. He practically feels like he could walk on air. He has to share this, so he calls in.
"Doc the most amazing thing has happened!" Steve is beaming ear to ear. "Well, Steve it certainly sounds stupendous with that tone! Let's hear the good news!" His radio therapist encourages.
"I saw them!" Steve gushes. "Them! The special someone I told you about. They're here in Seattle. Now's my chance! I gotta tell them!" Dr. Crane smiles, "Ah, serendipity... Steve, you must take her while she is still yours."
Steve didn't quite understand the doctor's point but he appreciated the sentiment. "Thanks, Doc. Y'know I'm gonna look 'em up. Take them to a nice dinner. Make things right this time." Dr. Crane clapped his hands together, "Steve that's a lovely idea! And might I be so bold as to suggest that you consider taking your special someone to La Belle Gourmande? The ambiance is divine... and the prices aren't half bad either."
Two nights later Steve was sitting at the restaurant, nervously drumming his fingers on the table, his eyes flitting up every time a person walked by. He was tense, feeling suffocated in the crispest white button down he owned. Fidgeting with undoing the second button from the top and then redoing it. He couldn't afford to screw this up, the phone call had already been botched.
It took some effort, randomly dialing the number of a familiar name in the Seattle area, but luckily not many people had the same name as his 'special someone'. When their voice came over the line and Steve heard it for the first time in nearly a decade, he choked. Couldn't even utter a "hello". "Who's this? Fucking answer or I'm hanging up." In an all out rush Steve replied.
"-lo!'s Steve! youwannagetdinner ...'n catch up?" he rushed out in a frazzle.
The other end of the line was silent for a beat, the tension broken with a soft chuff.
"Ketchup?" the voice asked bemused, followed by another pause. "Where?"
Squinting at his messily scrawled note taped to the cabinet, Steve replied, "this place owned by some Belle lady. Comes highly recommended."
There was a pause. "Steve... this can't be -"
"Please come," Steve begged.
As Steve waits for his 'special someone' to show, a certain radio personality ducks into a corner booth and picks up a menu, Dr. Frasier Crane. He has become so invested in his caller's well-being that he has come to the restaurant to watch Steve from afar. To root for him, and watch his little bird spread its wings and fly. Or so it would seem.
"Frasier? What on earth are you doing here?" Dr. Crane looks up from his crooning over his 'patient', his eyes panic-stricken and caught. "Niles?" His brother, the younger Dr. Crane is also here.
Frasier's eyes dart to the menu for a saving excuse, "It's the soup du jour Niles," he deflects craftily, "everyone knows the Gourmande has the best Soupe au Pistou on the western seaboard." Niles rolls his eyes and follows Frasier's worried gaze over to the young man at a nearby table. "That may be true Frasier, but I believe you are here for more than just soup." Frasier sniffs indignantly about to snap out a reply when Niles hastily takes up the opposite seat in his booth and hides his face behind a menu.
Frasier cranks an eyebrow high and looks at his brother accusingly. "And pray tell what fare Provençal brought you to dine here?" he moons sarcastically. Niles peers over the edge of his menu at the other table, as a blonde man arrives. Frasier gasps dramatically and shields himself behind his menu as well.
"Mouchard!" Frasier hisses at his brother treacherously. Niles looks back at him unamused and replies, "says the snoop, snooping." They exchange glares and peek over their menus to watch the scene unfold.
Steve abruptly bumps the table, standing up quickly the minute he sees them. Him. The blonde. He can't help but smile, his chest is aching, fully flooded with a torrent of emotions.
"I don't understand," Frasier says in confusion, looking at Niles and then back over the menu. Niles looks over his menu, eyebrow cocked, "What?" "He talked as if... well... his 'special someone' was..." Frasier was fumbling uncomfortably with his words and reasoning. "You thought Billy was a woman?" Niles completed. Frasier winced, "Steve never said he loved a man. I just assumed..."
They both peered over again. "Assumptions get us nowhere Frasier. They leave us to speak for others in spaces we don't know. Only they know their truth." Frasier nodded slowly, the information sinking in. "Too right you are Niles. I was wrong to presume Steve's path to a whole self was like my own."
Billy sat down, followed by Steve, he seemed anxious, his eyes wandering all over the room, causing the two psychiatrists to duck and cower several times, lest they be discovered.
Steve called over a waiter and they ordered drinks. As the night began to unfold a certain ease settled over the pair like a familiar blanket, warm and comforting. Softly exchanged touches of hands, and lingering smiles arrived in greater frequency than the refillable bread basket, with feet sliding across one another under the tablecloth and resting calf-to-calf.
"Well Frasier, I think our worst fears have been allayed." Niles injected into the hour. "We weren't needed." Frasier smiled proudly, "I think you're right Niles. Would you care for un repas de fin de nuit?" Niles rose from the table, "Après-vous."
As the pair of brothers exited the restaurant Billy and Steve looked up, "Who do you think those guys were?" Steve asked curiously, "They were kinda loud. Seemed really interested in us..." Billy sighed, dropping his fork to his plate, "The twiggy one was my shrink. No fuckin clue who the other guy was though."
Steve looked at Billy mildly concerned, "You have a shrink?" Billy nodded wiping his mouth with the napkin. "Yeah, Dr. Crane." Steve watched the pair as they waited for the valet to bring their car. "The Dr. Crane that has the radio show?" Billy shook his head, "No that's his brother..."
Steve slumped in his seat taking a long drink from his glass, as Billy swiped the final bite of gateau.
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