Carol (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} amusingly_fics) wrote,@ 2007-09-01 14:54:00 |
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POINT (1/1)
Numb3rs
David + Colby
1,044 words
Summary: Alternate ending for S4's 'Thirteen' (the one where Colby officially returns to the team).
Next time I don't answer my phone, do me a favor. Just call the cavalry, okay?
Yeah, and what if you're having sex?
Point taken.
- David & Colby, The Art of Reckoning
See main page for all disclaimers.
Point
Beyond the glass, Don not-so-subtly flirted with Liz. Megan and Larry stood by the elevator doors chatting amicably while Charlie and Amita waited nearby, shyly dancing around emotions that overwhelmed and surpassed the cold comfort of numbers and facts.
David tore his eyes away, redirecting his attention to his coffee gone cold. On the worst of days the stillness and warmth of the break room provided a brief and sorry respite from his troubles; today, it was suffocating. He was run-down, tired, and it was taking all his restraint not to bend to temptation and rest his burning forehead against the cool countertop. Just for a moment, until the stress and tightness disappeared from his shoulders, and he could put on his game face again.
“Hey.”
David grimaced slightly, unable to turn around to face the door. To face Colby’s trademark smirk, the sheepish shrug of his shoulders that broke down all his defences. Game face indeed, David thought with disgust.
Moments later he had gone through the motions of friendship, poured two fresh cups of coffee, holding one out as he turned around. In return green eyes blinked, asking (“Is it just coffee, or does it mean something more?” David supposed) before hands engulfed the paper cup with gratitude.
David leaned against the counter and tried for casual, ending up with gruff. “That was some jump today. What the hell were you thinking?”
Colby leaned against the doorframe, taking up all the space. His expression was one of contrition but still held his good humour. “Thinking I might just catch that guy. Stack the odds in our favour. Thinking that…”
He trailed off but David heard the unspoken ending. Thinking that he could... make things right.
David tried to fill up the empty space with words that use to come easily to both of them. There were no awkward silences with best friends and lovers, and that fact sadly told of the current state of their relationship. David was a good agent, prided himself on his ability to think outside of his emotions, but the older he got, and the more personal things became, getting back into the game – life, was getting harder.
But Colby wasn’t moving from the doorframe and David wasn’t talking, and David was beginning to think that perhaps this here, in the break room, drinking stale coffee and not quite having a conversation, was a truce of sorts.
“Did you hurt your back?”
Colby smiled tightly, one that lit his eyes. One that always seemed too powerful to contain, one that set the room aglow. “Hot shower, good night’s rest, and I’ll be as good as new.”
“Don’t forget the beer,” David grinned, looking down into his coffee, feeling suddenly shy.
“Have I ever?”
The rapport was disturbingly easy in Colby’s presence. It was afterwards that David felt the loss, when he was unwinding after a case on a couch he used to share with Colby, drinking Colby’s beer, berating Colby’s hockey team’s play to an audience that wasn’t there. The worse part was that he felt like the guilty party. Not for believing him guilty of spying – that was Colby’s job, after all, and David was intelligent enough to separate that emotion. But David had worked hard to get himself to where he was at in his life, both professionally and, with Colby, personally, and the fact that they probably weren’t on the same page hurt. He felt guilty for ever loving him in the first place, even when he couldn’t place the source of that guilt, whether it be for jeopardizing Colby’s cover or letting down Don and the team.
Colby was making small talk, David could tell without listening. He was gesturing widely with the coffee cup, the other hand on his hip, his chin jutted out. And David knew Colby could tell he wasn’t hearing a word. He took some small comfort in that.
His hand still vibrated with warmth from when he’d helped Colby off the ground after that stupid, stupid jump. His heart had lodged in his throat, his feet couldn’t keep up, and he too was flying to Colby, needing to be by his side and be seen there, by Colby. The touch had been automatic, necessary, until his fingers brushed against the soft fabric of his suit. David should have scolded him then as he would have in the past: two jumps in two days, what were you thinking, you’re not twenty anymore, but was too content, too comfortable, to have Colby back by his side, just being himself, nothing changed on the outside. Everything changed inside.
Standing in the break room, throwing alternating stares at Colby and his coffee, David longed to feel the rush of having Colby back in his life, in his bed. On his couch, yelling at his hockey team. He just didn’t know how to fix this.
Hell, David didn’t even know where he was living now. His apartment had been searched and closed up, the lease forgone by the time all was settled. Megan had left nine boxes of clothes, dishware, CDs and books in David’s spare room, probably because, he supposed, as an ardent student of human nature, she never missed a trick. Certainly not with him and Colby.
“You haven’t heard a word,” Colby lighted scolded, the smile playing at his lips belying the words.
“Nope,” David admitted freely, chuckling a little. “Guess you recognize that look from whenever Charlie tries to explain his analysis to you.”
“Actually, yes,” Colby was smiling wide, showing teeth. “But I know there’s someone else present to take notes for me.” He paused. “You.”
David felt a little dizzy.
Colby was staring at him, appraising, and after a pause bit his bottom lip. His eyes were dark, pleading. “Can I come back?”
Back to work, David knew what he meant. Having already spoken to Don, he knew that Colby didn’t need his permission. But ‘back to work’ seemed to equate ‘back together’ in his mind, at least in some mild way, and perhaps from there…
“Yeah,” David mumbled, smiling softly, and he meant it. ‘Yeah’ to coming back to work and ‘yeah’ to coming back home – David’s home, even if Colby wasn’t ready for that answer yet.
***
End
(January 3rd, 2008)
Numb3rs
David + Colby
1,044 words
Summary: Alternate ending for S4's 'Thirteen' (the one where Colby officially returns to the team).
Yeah, and what if you're having sex?
Point taken.
- David & Colby, The Art of Reckoning
See main page for all disclaimers.
Point
Beyond the glass, Don not-so-subtly flirted with Liz. Megan and Larry stood by the elevator doors chatting amicably while Charlie and Amita waited nearby, shyly dancing around emotions that overwhelmed and surpassed the cold comfort of numbers and facts.
David tore his eyes away, redirecting his attention to his coffee gone cold. On the worst of days the stillness and warmth of the break room provided a brief and sorry respite from his troubles; today, it was suffocating. He was run-down, tired, and it was taking all his restraint not to bend to temptation and rest his burning forehead against the cool countertop. Just for a moment, until the stress and tightness disappeared from his shoulders, and he could put on his game face again.
“Hey.”
David grimaced slightly, unable to turn around to face the door. To face Colby’s trademark smirk, the sheepish shrug of his shoulders that broke down all his defences. Game face indeed, David thought with disgust.
Moments later he had gone through the motions of friendship, poured two fresh cups of coffee, holding one out as he turned around. In return green eyes blinked, asking (“Is it just coffee, or does it mean something more?” David supposed) before hands engulfed the paper cup with gratitude.
David leaned against the counter and tried for casual, ending up with gruff. “That was some jump today. What the hell were you thinking?”
Colby leaned against the doorframe, taking up all the space. His expression was one of contrition but still held his good humour. “Thinking I might just catch that guy. Stack the odds in our favour. Thinking that…”
He trailed off but David heard the unspoken ending. Thinking that he could... make things right.
David tried to fill up the empty space with words that use to come easily to both of them. There were no awkward silences with best friends and lovers, and that fact sadly told of the current state of their relationship. David was a good agent, prided himself on his ability to think outside of his emotions, but the older he got, and the more personal things became, getting back into the game – life, was getting harder.
But Colby wasn’t moving from the doorframe and David wasn’t talking, and David was beginning to think that perhaps this here, in the break room, drinking stale coffee and not quite having a conversation, was a truce of sorts.
“Did you hurt your back?”
Colby smiled tightly, one that lit his eyes. One that always seemed too powerful to contain, one that set the room aglow. “Hot shower, good night’s rest, and I’ll be as good as new.”
“Don’t forget the beer,” David grinned, looking down into his coffee, feeling suddenly shy.
“Have I ever?”
The rapport was disturbingly easy in Colby’s presence. It was afterwards that David felt the loss, when he was unwinding after a case on a couch he used to share with Colby, drinking Colby’s beer, berating Colby’s hockey team’s play to an audience that wasn’t there. The worse part was that he felt like the guilty party. Not for believing him guilty of spying – that was Colby’s job, after all, and David was intelligent enough to separate that emotion. But David had worked hard to get himself to where he was at in his life, both professionally and, with Colby, personally, and the fact that they probably weren’t on the same page hurt. He felt guilty for ever loving him in the first place, even when he couldn’t place the source of that guilt, whether it be for jeopardizing Colby’s cover or letting down Don and the team.
Colby was making small talk, David could tell without listening. He was gesturing widely with the coffee cup, the other hand on his hip, his chin jutted out. And David knew Colby could tell he wasn’t hearing a word. He took some small comfort in that.
His hand still vibrated with warmth from when he’d helped Colby off the ground after that stupid, stupid jump. His heart had lodged in his throat, his feet couldn’t keep up, and he too was flying to Colby, needing to be by his side and be seen there, by Colby. The touch had been automatic, necessary, until his fingers brushed against the soft fabric of his suit. David should have scolded him then as he would have in the past: two jumps in two days, what were you thinking, you’re not twenty anymore, but was too content, too comfortable, to have Colby back by his side, just being himself, nothing changed on the outside. Everything changed inside.
Standing in the break room, throwing alternating stares at Colby and his coffee, David longed to feel the rush of having Colby back in his life, in his bed. On his couch, yelling at his hockey team. He just didn’t know how to fix this.
Hell, David didn’t even know where he was living now. His apartment had been searched and closed up, the lease forgone by the time all was settled. Megan had left nine boxes of clothes, dishware, CDs and books in David’s spare room, probably because, he supposed, as an ardent student of human nature, she never missed a trick. Certainly not with him and Colby.
“You haven’t heard a word,” Colby lighted scolded, the smile playing at his lips belying the words.
“Nope,” David admitted freely, chuckling a little. “Guess you recognize that look from whenever Charlie tries to explain his analysis to you.”
“Actually, yes,” Colby was smiling wide, showing teeth. “But I know there’s someone else present to take notes for me.” He paused. “You.”
David felt a little dizzy.
Colby was staring at him, appraising, and after a pause bit his bottom lip. His eyes were dark, pleading. “Can I come back?”
Back to work, David knew what he meant. Having already spoken to Don, he knew that Colby didn’t need his permission. But ‘back to work’ seemed to equate ‘back together’ in his mind, at least in some mild way, and perhaps from there…
“Yeah,” David mumbled, smiling softly, and he meant it. ‘Yeah’ to coming back to work and ‘yeah’ to coming back home – David’s home, even if Colby wasn’t ready for that answer yet.
***
End
(January 3rd, 2008)
