Fic: Rebound (Without a Trace, Danny/Martin, PG13)
I thought after the writing marathon yesterday that I was completely spent for awhile. Then I wandered over to contrelamontre to check out the new challenge and Martin decided I wasn't nearly done yet.
Title: Rebound
Fandom: Without a Trace
Pairing: Danny/Martin, implied Martin/Sam, Sam/Jack
Rating: PG13
Summary: Danny's always been the type to charge in without looking.
This is not the worst moment of his life.
He's been dumped before, after all, and maybe getting dumped for his boss is a little better than getting dumped for one of those weasels in Accounting. Or some muscle-head with a body he could never have and brains he wouldn't want. Both of which have happened to him, he reminds himself with an ironic smile and one last swallow of single-malt scotch.
It hasn't been that long since Sam gave him one last apologetic peck on the cheek - like some kind of consolation prize, he imagines - and walked out of the bar. And he should have seen it coming, because she's never really been completely there, even at the beginning of their relationship.
He's not sure a handful of dates counts as a relationship. It's the closest he's come in a long time, though, and that's way too depressing to think about.
The bartender catches his eye and signals toward his glass, and for a second Martin considers letting him fill it. It would be so easy just to sit here and drink until the memory of Sam smiling sadly and giving him the 'it's not you' speech fades completely. But that won't solve anything, because if there's one thing he learned from his father it's how important it is to stay in control.
Besides, he's pretty sure there's not enough scotch behind the bar to make him stop imagining what she looks like when she's fucking Jack.
In the end he shakes his head, drops a few dollars - he doesn't bother to look how many - on the bar and stands up. He's been sitting there for an hour, maybe longer since she left, and it takes him a second to catch his balance when he stands up. He hasn't had that much to drink, but they've been working a tough case and he can't remember the last decent meal he had. When he finally finds his legs he makes his way out of the bar as gracefully as possible, and when he gets outside he hails a cab and lets his head fall back against the headrest as he murmurs his address to the driver.
He could have walked a block and gotten on the subway like he does every other day after work. He doesn't have to; he could take a cab every day if he wanted, but he likes the experience of being a real live New Yorker. That's what he tells himself, anyway, on wet days when the smell's really bad and the train's way too crowded.
Tonight he doesn't feel like pretending he fits in here. He's a Fitzgerald, after all, and he might as well enjoy some of the perks that go along with being born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He hears Danny's voice saying the words in his head, pictures Danny's smirk as he says them and grins in spite of himself. And he's not sure when Danny moved into his subconscious, but it's almost nice sometimes, hearing that voice when he least expects it.
Other times it's really fucking irritating, but only because he knows Danny's voice in his head is usually right, even if the real live version isn't. They butt heads all the time about procedure, but as it turns out, when it comes to his personal life Danny actually knows what he's talking about.
He knows it's not really Danny. Martin's not even sure why he chose that voice to lecture him about things like getting involved with a coworker or taking the boss' sloppy seconds. Probably because he knows Danny would say those exact things if he had the chance. Sometimes Martin wonders why he hasn't said any of them. It's not like Danny's well known for holding his tongue.
He's not going to start thinking about Danny's tongue, though, because he's already made a mess of one office romance and he's not going to start fantasizing about another one. Especially one that would never happen. Even if Danny wanted him there's his father and their jobs…but it's a moot point, because Danny doesn't. Wouldn't. Why would he? He's Danny and Martin's…a Fitzgerald, for one thing.
Sometimes he fantasizes about Danny. He usually tries not to, stops it before it starts and moves onto someone safer - Sam, usually, not that she turned out to be all that safe - but there are times late at night when he can't sleep and he's keyed up from a case, and sometimes he can't help indulging himself. It always makes him blush and scrub his skin extra hard in the shower the next morning, but at the time it always feels good. Better than good - better than any fantasy about Sam or anyone else, for that matter - and that's the whole problem. Because he knows if he lets himself want it he'll do something stupid, and he knows better than to let himself lose control.
He has a feeling tonight's going to be one of those nights. He has a feeling he's not going to fight it very hard this time.
Finally - finally - the cab pulls up in front of his building, and Martin hands over some more Fitzgerald money and stumbles onto the sidewalk, up the stairs to his front door. He's fumbling for his keys when he hears someone come up the stairs behind him, and he tries not to tense because this may be Queens but he's a federal agent, for God's sake, and he's not afraid of the city. He glances over his shoulder expecting to see a neighbor or possibly a mugger, but when he registers a familiar smile he does a double take.
"What are you doing here?"
Danny smirks and holds up a bag he recognizes as takeout from the Chinese place down the street, and Martin tries to think of any pretty single girls who live in the building. And wouldn't it just figure that Danny has a date in his building tonight; now he's going to have to think about Danny naked and fucking some girl somewhere in these very walls while he's jerking off.
"Sam came back to the office while I was finishing up my report. Made a beeline for Jack's office, they were still behind closed doors when I left. Figured you could use some company."
Martin's face starts to turn red but he's too stunned to do anything but stand there with his keys in his hand, because Danny's actually here to see him and it's a pity…whatever. Not a date, he's not thinking of it as a date. Because Danny's...well he's Danny, and Martin's…been through all of this on the cab ride across town.
"It's not a big deal," he hears himself say, but it's hard to pay attention to the sound of his own voice when the Danny in his head is shouting at him to shut his fucking mouth and open the door. "We only went out a few times, it's not like she broke my heart."
"That's good to hear," Danny answers, but he's still smirking as he reaches for the keys and pulls them out of Martin's hand. "I picked up dinner."
His mouth is close enough to Martin's ear to make Martin shiver, but he doesn't because this is Danny and if he wants to play the supportive…what? Friend? Coworker? If he wants to play supportive whatever then Martin's not about to screw it up. He's already done enough of that to last him the length of his stay at Missing Persons, which could be a lot shorter than he planned if Jack's pissed about the whole thing with Sam.
Then Danny's pushing the door open and ushering Martin inside the building, and he doesn't really remember moving but it doesn't matter because Danny's following him in and kicking the door closed behind them. Danny's way too close even when they're walking up the stairs, leaning into Martin's personal space like he always does and usually it's a little disconcerting but right now all Martin can think is that he smells really, really good. He breathes in again when they reach his apartment door, and when Danny laughs Martin blushes because he knows he's been caught.
"So she didn't break your heart, huh?"
Martin shakes his head no, thinks about making a sarcastic remark about the breakability of his heart, but he gets caught up in wondering if 'breakability' is even a word, and by the time he remembers the question Danny's doing that leaning thing again. Martin leans back just to give himself enough room to breathe, but when his back hits the doorframe he realizes he's got nowhere left to go.
"It was just a couple dates," he repeats, knowing how lame he sounds but not really caring when he can smell Danny and practically feel his body heat pressing into the space between them.
Then Danny smiles, less of a smirk this time and more considering, like he's been waiting for something for a long time and he's just now getting it. Martin thinks he should say something else just to break the tension, but the scotch is doing weird things to his head - or maybe that's Danny too, he's not sure anymore.
"Good," Danny says, his breath hitting Martin's cheek and this time he does shiver, but it doesn't matter because it's Danny and there's really only one place this conversation can go. "Then this isn't going to be a rebound thing after all."
Martin opens his mouth to answer, to ask Danny what exactly he means because he's not stupid, but he likes to make sure he has his facts straight before he goes charging in anywhere. Danny's more the charging type, though, and when warm lips press against his and Danny pins him to the wall Martin thinks that maybe charging in isn't always so bad after all.
Title: Rebound
Fandom: Without a Trace
Pairing: Danny/Martin, implied Martin/Sam, Sam/Jack
Rating: PG13
Summary: Danny's always been the type to charge in without looking.
This is not the worst moment of his life.
He's been dumped before, after all, and maybe getting dumped for his boss is a little better than getting dumped for one of those weasels in Accounting. Or some muscle-head with a body he could never have and brains he wouldn't want. Both of which have happened to him, he reminds himself with an ironic smile and one last swallow of single-malt scotch.
It hasn't been that long since Sam gave him one last apologetic peck on the cheek - like some kind of consolation prize, he imagines - and walked out of the bar. And he should have seen it coming, because she's never really been completely there, even at the beginning of their relationship.
He's not sure a handful of dates counts as a relationship. It's the closest he's come in a long time, though, and that's way too depressing to think about.
The bartender catches his eye and signals toward his glass, and for a second Martin considers letting him fill it. It would be so easy just to sit here and drink until the memory of Sam smiling sadly and giving him the 'it's not you' speech fades completely. But that won't solve anything, because if there's one thing he learned from his father it's how important it is to stay in control.
Besides, he's pretty sure there's not enough scotch behind the bar to make him stop imagining what she looks like when she's fucking Jack.
In the end he shakes his head, drops a few dollars - he doesn't bother to look how many - on the bar and stands up. He's been sitting there for an hour, maybe longer since she left, and it takes him a second to catch his balance when he stands up. He hasn't had that much to drink, but they've been working a tough case and he can't remember the last decent meal he had. When he finally finds his legs he makes his way out of the bar as gracefully as possible, and when he gets outside he hails a cab and lets his head fall back against the headrest as he murmurs his address to the driver.
He could have walked a block and gotten on the subway like he does every other day after work. He doesn't have to; he could take a cab every day if he wanted, but he likes the experience of being a real live New Yorker. That's what he tells himself, anyway, on wet days when the smell's really bad and the train's way too crowded.
Tonight he doesn't feel like pretending he fits in here. He's a Fitzgerald, after all, and he might as well enjoy some of the perks that go along with being born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He hears Danny's voice saying the words in his head, pictures Danny's smirk as he says them and grins in spite of himself. And he's not sure when Danny moved into his subconscious, but it's almost nice sometimes, hearing that voice when he least expects it.
Other times it's really fucking irritating, but only because he knows Danny's voice in his head is usually right, even if the real live version isn't. They butt heads all the time about procedure, but as it turns out, when it comes to his personal life Danny actually knows what he's talking about.
He knows it's not really Danny. Martin's not even sure why he chose that voice to lecture him about things like getting involved with a coworker or taking the boss' sloppy seconds. Probably because he knows Danny would say those exact things if he had the chance. Sometimes Martin wonders why he hasn't said any of them. It's not like Danny's well known for holding his tongue.
He's not going to start thinking about Danny's tongue, though, because he's already made a mess of one office romance and he's not going to start fantasizing about another one. Especially one that would never happen. Even if Danny wanted him there's his father and their jobs…but it's a moot point, because Danny doesn't. Wouldn't. Why would he? He's Danny and Martin's…a Fitzgerald, for one thing.
Sometimes he fantasizes about Danny. He usually tries not to, stops it before it starts and moves onto someone safer - Sam, usually, not that she turned out to be all that safe - but there are times late at night when he can't sleep and he's keyed up from a case, and sometimes he can't help indulging himself. It always makes him blush and scrub his skin extra hard in the shower the next morning, but at the time it always feels good. Better than good - better than any fantasy about Sam or anyone else, for that matter - and that's the whole problem. Because he knows if he lets himself want it he'll do something stupid, and he knows better than to let himself lose control.
He has a feeling tonight's going to be one of those nights. He has a feeling he's not going to fight it very hard this time.
Finally - finally - the cab pulls up in front of his building, and Martin hands over some more Fitzgerald money and stumbles onto the sidewalk, up the stairs to his front door. He's fumbling for his keys when he hears someone come up the stairs behind him, and he tries not to tense because this may be Queens but he's a federal agent, for God's sake, and he's not afraid of the city. He glances over his shoulder expecting to see a neighbor or possibly a mugger, but when he registers a familiar smile he does a double take.
"What are you doing here?"
Danny smirks and holds up a bag he recognizes as takeout from the Chinese place down the street, and Martin tries to think of any pretty single girls who live in the building. And wouldn't it just figure that Danny has a date in his building tonight; now he's going to have to think about Danny naked and fucking some girl somewhere in these very walls while he's jerking off.
"Sam came back to the office while I was finishing up my report. Made a beeline for Jack's office, they were still behind closed doors when I left. Figured you could use some company."
Martin's face starts to turn red but he's too stunned to do anything but stand there with his keys in his hand, because Danny's actually here to see him and it's a pity…whatever. Not a date, he's not thinking of it as a date. Because Danny's...well he's Danny, and Martin's…been through all of this on the cab ride across town.
"It's not a big deal," he hears himself say, but it's hard to pay attention to the sound of his own voice when the Danny in his head is shouting at him to shut his fucking mouth and open the door. "We only went out a few times, it's not like she broke my heart."
"That's good to hear," Danny answers, but he's still smirking as he reaches for the keys and pulls them out of Martin's hand. "I picked up dinner."
His mouth is close enough to Martin's ear to make Martin shiver, but he doesn't because this is Danny and if he wants to play the supportive…what? Friend? Coworker? If he wants to play supportive whatever then Martin's not about to screw it up. He's already done enough of that to last him the length of his stay at Missing Persons, which could be a lot shorter than he planned if Jack's pissed about the whole thing with Sam.
Then Danny's pushing the door open and ushering Martin inside the building, and he doesn't really remember moving but it doesn't matter because Danny's following him in and kicking the door closed behind them. Danny's way too close even when they're walking up the stairs, leaning into Martin's personal space like he always does and usually it's a little disconcerting but right now all Martin can think is that he smells really, really good. He breathes in again when they reach his apartment door, and when Danny laughs Martin blushes because he knows he's been caught.
"So she didn't break your heart, huh?"
Martin shakes his head no, thinks about making a sarcastic remark about the breakability of his heart, but he gets caught up in wondering if 'breakability' is even a word, and by the time he remembers the question Danny's doing that leaning thing again. Martin leans back just to give himself enough room to breathe, but when his back hits the doorframe he realizes he's got nowhere left to go.
"It was just a couple dates," he repeats, knowing how lame he sounds but not really caring when he can smell Danny and practically feel his body heat pressing into the space between them.
Then Danny smiles, less of a smirk this time and more considering, like he's been waiting for something for a long time and he's just now getting it. Martin thinks he should say something else just to break the tension, but the scotch is doing weird things to his head - or maybe that's Danny too, he's not sure anymore.
"Good," Danny says, his breath hitting Martin's cheek and this time he does shiver, but it doesn't matter because it's Danny and there's really only one place this conversation can go. "Then this isn't going to be a rebound thing after all."
Martin opens his mouth to answer, to ask Danny what exactly he means because he's not stupid, but he likes to make sure he has his facts straight before he goes charging in anywhere. Danny's more the charging type, though, and when warm lips press against his and Danny pins him to the wall Martin thinks that maybe charging in isn't always so bad after all.