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Oddly enough (in my opinion), I wrote Charlie/Larry for the Numb3rs ficathon. I think it was kind of an antidote for the Charlie/Don angst-fest that I have high hopes of posting later this weekend.
Title: Sooner or Later
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairing: Charlie/Larry
Rating: PG
Length: 1200 words
Math equation: Physics. It's a prop.
Summary: Larry contemplates Charlie's new job with Don. Sort of a character study. With kissing.
Notes: Simple and sweet, I hope. I just really wanted to write the happy.
“It’s this entire line, isn’t it?” Larry steps back from the chalkboard and tilts his head, as if changing perspective might give him the answer. He runs his fingers beneath the calculations, finding the place where they’d begun to go wrong. “We’re going to have to re-calculate the angle of descent. Charles?”
“Yes?” Head coming up from stuffing books into his backpack, giving Larry a brief flash of dark eyes and hair before Charlie goes back to shuffling through the file folders on his desk.
“I’m sorry – am I distracting you? Because I can’t help but notice you seem less than focused on the problem at hand…”
“The problem. Yeah. See, the thing is Larry? I have to go.” Charlie’s looking slightly hunted now, and won’t meet Larry’s eyes. “I’ll come back later and we can work on this, but right now I promised Don I’d –.”
Larry turns back to the board and crosses his arms, letting his posture speak for him. Later is a word Larry is beginning to despise.
“Really, Larry – I’ll be back." Charlie hesitates. "Soon.” Larry feels Charlie’s hand on his shoulder, a brief weight and warmth. Though he won’t look to make sure, he knows that Charlie’s expression is equally heavy; intensely sincere and infinitely irritating.
“That’s fine.”
“Really?” There are lines of concern appearing on Charlie’s forehead now, Larry is sure of it.
“Of course it’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine? Run along, Charles.”
“Okay, then. I guess.” Silence, but no movement. “Will you be around tonight?” There’s a plea somewhere in the question which Larry chooses to ignore with a noncommittal hand wave. He remains oblivious to Charlie’s sigh as he finally swings his backpack up and heads out, hesitating briefly at the door. Larry waits before he turns from the board, leaning back against the desk and trying to decide if he’s more angry with Charlie or himself.
The anger stems from jealousy. Larry’s had some time to examine this and there’s simply no denying it. It’s not that this is anything new where Charlie’s concerned; he’s used to experiencing a low-grade irritation whenever Charlie goes out on one of his infrequent dates, but it’s never been serious. Larry has always assumed that since Charlie lives so much in his head that until one of them gets past the purely physical, the people Charlie dates are mere diversions. In all honesty, the Tiergardt Fellowship that the University of Geneva had dangled in front of Charlie the year before had caused Larry greater distress than any of Charlie’s erstwhile relationships.
This feeling is new, though; sharp and piercing and hard to ignore. Harder still to justify. Larry supposes that he can claim righteous resentment of the bad things Charlie’s involvement in Don’s world causes – time away from Larry’s projects and Charlie’s own the mere beginning of it. Larry hates Charlie’s distracted, drawn manner when things are going badly. Worse is Charlie’s weariness afterward; the coming down from a case once the adrenalin is gone that leaves Charlie a wraith of shadows and angles and Larry appalled that he’s the only one who seems to notice.
Too high a cost, in Larry’s opinion. And yet he has to admit he hadn’t hesitated to claim some of the results. If he’s going to be honest, he thinks too often about one night that found Charlie slumped against him on Larry’s couch, shoulders sharper than usual and jaw a harsh line in the flickering light from the television. He remembers thinking it strange that Charlie felt the need to sit so close and that perhaps he should make Charlie talk about it – whatever it was, this time – before he realized that Charlie was sleeping. He had fallen asleep between one moment and the next, instantly, deeply, the way Larry imagined that children did. It was a moment of unreality, and Larry had frozen, extending it.
In the end he hadn’t moved away, but simply shifted so that Charlie could stretch out. Boneless, Larry remembers thinking, or all bones, maybe, with nothing holding him together. He’d let Charlie make him into a pillow and sat there, absently touching Charlie’s hair and thinking foolish thoughts about taking more care in what he wished for in the future.
Larry pushes that memory away and shifts against the desk.
Resenting the good things Charlie’s new interest brings is harder to justify. It’s nearly impossible to watch Charlie’s excitement at seeing the actual result of his work without admitting he’s getting something vital from this, especially when more often than not it’s a tangible outcome that helps, that saves. Surely that should be bigger than Larry’s … loneliness.
And how petty to resent Charlie’s renewed relationship with his brother, when that broken bond had hurt him so deeply? Larry can honestly say that if Don had approached Charlie with something less fascinating -- something that hadn’t tantalized Charlie’s mind and sparked his intellectual curiosity –- well, Larry would have felt nothing but joy. He believes this. Most of the time.
“I don’t think I can leave if you’re angry with me.”
Larry starts and looks up to see Charlie standing in the doorway, one hand on the door jamb and shoulders hunched. Larry is briefly pleased that he can make Charlie look this miserable, then dismisses the feeling as ignoble. He sighs.
“I’m not angry.”
Charlie moves back into the room, eyes never once moving from Larry’s face, and Larry finds himself shifting under the scrutiny.
“I think you’ve been angry with me for awhile, actually.”
“And how did you reach this conclusion?”
“I’ve known you for over a decade, Larry. That’s a lot of empirical data to work with.” The twist of Charlie’s mouth is pained, though, and Larry can tell that Charlie’s hurt. After all, Larry’s had years of close observation to draw from as well.
“What did I do?” Charlie asks softly, standing right in front of him and searching Larry’s face for the answer. Larry is vividly reminded of Charlie as an undergraduate, unfinished and brilliant and so unsure of where he fit into the world. How Larry had always tried to be something Charlie could be sure of. Something inside Larry’s chest squeezes tight. He shakes his head and cups the back of Charlie’ neck, grips once and lets him go.
“You’ve done nothing, Charles.” Except make me miss you. “We’re fine. Go on.”
Charlie takes a breath, and Larry’s not sure he even registered Larry’s last sentence. “You’re not. Larry, you’re not… jealous or something, are you? Of all this time I’m spending? Because that would be --”
“Charles, in all the time I’ve known you, have I ever once given you reason to believe I might be jealous?” If he wants Charlie to believe him, he should probably sound less indignant, Larry thinks.
“Honestly? No. Not once.” Charlie is looking at him with a half-smile and curious eyes, the way he does when he’s asking a question but thinks he might already know the answer. “That’s why I’m a little unsure here.”
“Just a little?” Larry keeps his voice low, because Charlie is so close now that he would probably hear Larry if he simply mouthed the words. Larry considers doing so against Charlie’s lips, and watches the movement of Charlie’s throat as he swallows nervously instead.
“Well, I have a theory.” Charlie’s looking at Larry’s mouth now, and the rough quality of his voice is like a touch. Larry can’t help but smile.
“Pure speculation until it’s tested, Charles…”
The rest of the sentence is lost in the firm pressure of Charlie’s mouth on his. Larry gets brief, breathless heat and a full grin, though Charlie’s eyes are serious.
“Am I right, Larry?”
It’s such an easy thing to slide his hand into Charlie’s hair and pull him close again, amused at Charlie’s surprised expression. Longer contact this time – the brief touch of Charlie’s tongue, the sweet stutter of Charlie’s body toward him, and Larry thinks there’s something to be said for the purely physical after all.
And yet.
Reluctantly, Larry lets him go. “You need to be somewhere, don’t you?”
Charlie pulls back, looking slightly wounded, and Larry is quick to reassure. He brushes his thumb across the softness of Charlie’s mouth, soothes the redness there.
“Go, Charles. It’s fine. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Charlie hesitates, blinking. “So I’ll see you later? Or sooner, maybe?”
Larry smiles, suddenly finding it quite easy to be generous. “Sooner. Or perhaps later, even. I can wait.”
End
Fluffy, but it made me happy. *g* The master list of Numb3rs stories is here. Enjoy!
Title: Sooner or Later
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairing: Charlie/Larry
Rating: PG
Length: 1200 words
Math equation: Physics. It's a prop.
Summary: Larry contemplates Charlie's new job with Don. Sort of a character study. With kissing.
Notes: Simple and sweet, I hope. I just really wanted to write the happy.
“It’s this entire line, isn’t it?” Larry steps back from the chalkboard and tilts his head, as if changing perspective might give him the answer. He runs his fingers beneath the calculations, finding the place where they’d begun to go wrong. “We’re going to have to re-calculate the angle of descent. Charles?”
“Yes?” Head coming up from stuffing books into his backpack, giving Larry a brief flash of dark eyes and hair before Charlie goes back to shuffling through the file folders on his desk.
“I’m sorry – am I distracting you? Because I can’t help but notice you seem less than focused on the problem at hand…”
“The problem. Yeah. See, the thing is Larry? I have to go.” Charlie’s looking slightly hunted now, and won’t meet Larry’s eyes. “I’ll come back later and we can work on this, but right now I promised Don I’d –.”
Larry turns back to the board and crosses his arms, letting his posture speak for him. Later is a word Larry is beginning to despise.
“Really, Larry – I’ll be back." Charlie hesitates. "Soon.” Larry feels Charlie’s hand on his shoulder, a brief weight and warmth. Though he won’t look to make sure, he knows that Charlie’s expression is equally heavy; intensely sincere and infinitely irritating.
“That’s fine.”
“Really?” There are lines of concern appearing on Charlie’s forehead now, Larry is sure of it.
“Of course it’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine? Run along, Charles.”
“Okay, then. I guess.” Silence, but no movement. “Will you be around tonight?” There’s a plea somewhere in the question which Larry chooses to ignore with a noncommittal hand wave. He remains oblivious to Charlie’s sigh as he finally swings his backpack up and heads out, hesitating briefly at the door. Larry waits before he turns from the board, leaning back against the desk and trying to decide if he’s more angry with Charlie or himself.
The anger stems from jealousy. Larry’s had some time to examine this and there’s simply no denying it. It’s not that this is anything new where Charlie’s concerned; he’s used to experiencing a low-grade irritation whenever Charlie goes out on one of his infrequent dates, but it’s never been serious. Larry has always assumed that since Charlie lives so much in his head that until one of them gets past the purely physical, the people Charlie dates are mere diversions. In all honesty, the Tiergardt Fellowship that the University of Geneva had dangled in front of Charlie the year before had caused Larry greater distress than any of Charlie’s erstwhile relationships.
This feeling is new, though; sharp and piercing and hard to ignore. Harder still to justify. Larry supposes that he can claim righteous resentment of the bad things Charlie’s involvement in Don’s world causes – time away from Larry’s projects and Charlie’s own the mere beginning of it. Larry hates Charlie’s distracted, drawn manner when things are going badly. Worse is Charlie’s weariness afterward; the coming down from a case once the adrenalin is gone that leaves Charlie a wraith of shadows and angles and Larry appalled that he’s the only one who seems to notice.
Too high a cost, in Larry’s opinion. And yet he has to admit he hadn’t hesitated to claim some of the results. If he’s going to be honest, he thinks too often about one night that found Charlie slumped against him on Larry’s couch, shoulders sharper than usual and jaw a harsh line in the flickering light from the television. He remembers thinking it strange that Charlie felt the need to sit so close and that perhaps he should make Charlie talk about it – whatever it was, this time – before he realized that Charlie was sleeping. He had fallen asleep between one moment and the next, instantly, deeply, the way Larry imagined that children did. It was a moment of unreality, and Larry had frozen, extending it.
In the end he hadn’t moved away, but simply shifted so that Charlie could stretch out. Boneless, Larry remembers thinking, or all bones, maybe, with nothing holding him together. He’d let Charlie make him into a pillow and sat there, absently touching Charlie’s hair and thinking foolish thoughts about taking more care in what he wished for in the future.
Larry pushes that memory away and shifts against the desk.
Resenting the good things Charlie’s new interest brings is harder to justify. It’s nearly impossible to watch Charlie’s excitement at seeing the actual result of his work without admitting he’s getting something vital from this, especially when more often than not it’s a tangible outcome that helps, that saves. Surely that should be bigger than Larry’s … loneliness.
And how petty to resent Charlie’s renewed relationship with his brother, when that broken bond had hurt him so deeply? Larry can honestly say that if Don had approached Charlie with something less fascinating -- something that hadn’t tantalized Charlie’s mind and sparked his intellectual curiosity –- well, Larry would have felt nothing but joy. He believes this. Most of the time.
“I don’t think I can leave if you’re angry with me.”
Larry starts and looks up to see Charlie standing in the doorway, one hand on the door jamb and shoulders hunched. Larry is briefly pleased that he can make Charlie look this miserable, then dismisses the feeling as ignoble. He sighs.
“I’m not angry.”
Charlie moves back into the room, eyes never once moving from Larry’s face, and Larry finds himself shifting under the scrutiny.
“I think you’ve been angry with me for awhile, actually.”
“And how did you reach this conclusion?”
“I’ve known you for over a decade, Larry. That’s a lot of empirical data to work with.” The twist of Charlie’s mouth is pained, though, and Larry can tell that Charlie’s hurt. After all, Larry’s had years of close observation to draw from as well.
“What did I do?” Charlie asks softly, standing right in front of him and searching Larry’s face for the answer. Larry is vividly reminded of Charlie as an undergraduate, unfinished and brilliant and so unsure of where he fit into the world. How Larry had always tried to be something Charlie could be sure of. Something inside Larry’s chest squeezes tight. He shakes his head and cups the back of Charlie’ neck, grips once and lets him go.
“You’ve done nothing, Charles.” Except make me miss you. “We’re fine. Go on.”
Charlie takes a breath, and Larry’s not sure he even registered Larry’s last sentence. “You’re not. Larry, you’re not… jealous or something, are you? Of all this time I’m spending? Because that would be --”
“Charles, in all the time I’ve known you, have I ever once given you reason to believe I might be jealous?” If he wants Charlie to believe him, he should probably sound less indignant, Larry thinks.
“Honestly? No. Not once.” Charlie is looking at him with a half-smile and curious eyes, the way he does when he’s asking a question but thinks he might already know the answer. “That’s why I’m a little unsure here.”
“Just a little?” Larry keeps his voice low, because Charlie is so close now that he would probably hear Larry if he simply mouthed the words. Larry considers doing so against Charlie’s lips, and watches the movement of Charlie’s throat as he swallows nervously instead.
“Well, I have a theory.” Charlie’s looking at Larry’s mouth now, and the rough quality of his voice is like a touch. Larry can’t help but smile.
“Pure speculation until it’s tested, Charles…”
The rest of the sentence is lost in the firm pressure of Charlie’s mouth on his. Larry gets brief, breathless heat and a full grin, though Charlie’s eyes are serious.
“Am I right, Larry?”
It’s such an easy thing to slide his hand into Charlie’s hair and pull him close again, amused at Charlie’s surprised expression. Longer contact this time – the brief touch of Charlie’s tongue, the sweet stutter of Charlie’s body toward him, and Larry thinks there’s something to be said for the purely physical after all.
And yet.
Reluctantly, Larry lets him go. “You need to be somewhere, don’t you?”
Charlie pulls back, looking slightly wounded, and Larry is quick to reassure. He brushes his thumb across the softness of Charlie’s mouth, soothes the redness there.
“Go, Charles. It’s fine. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Charlie hesitates, blinking. “So I’ll see you later? Or sooner, maybe?”
Larry smiles, suddenly finding it quite easy to be generous. “Sooner. Or perhaps later, even. I can wait.”
End
Fluffy, but it made me happy. *g* The master list of Numb3rs stories is here. Enjoy!
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