Fic: Little Perennials (Bones, Wendell/Hodgins, PG)
Title: Little Perennials
Fandom: Bones
Pairing: Wendell/Hodgins
Rating: PG
Summary: The post-script to The Good Life, in which loose ends are tied up regarding the future. Inspired by that very distracting meme from yesterday, and something cinderlily said last night. ~1400 words.
A/N: I stopped writing these two for awhile, for mostly stupid reasons, which I realized last night is hurting no one but myself. Because I love these two like burning, and they deserve better than anything canon is ever going to give them. So here I am, fic in hand. Do with that what you will.
Jack wakes from a dream about falling, the details fading faster the harder he tries to hold onto them. Finally he's left with nothing but the pounding of his heart and a vague sense that the dream had something to do with Wendell leaving. Angela didn't leave him such a basket case that he's developed some sort of abandonment complex, but the truth is Wendell's already gone through graduation, even if he's not officially done until the end of the summer, and there's a chance his job search might take him away from D.C.
They haven't talked about it yet, though Jack's pretty sure they should have. The closest they've gotten is at dinner with Wendell's family, when Wendell told his mother that his life is in D.C. now. The perfect time to talk about it would have been after they dropped off Wendell's family at their hotel, but as soon as they got home Wendell distracted him. A thank you for putting up with his family, he'd called it at the time, and Jack had laughed and let Wendell peel their clothes off as they stumbled toward the bedroom.
The distraction was definitely worth it, Jack thinks as he flexes, savoring the burn of well-used muscles in his arms and back. That still leaves an unfinished conversation, though, and just because Wendell wants to stay doesn't mean that will be the best choice for him. Jack figures he should say at least that much out loud -- that he's okay with whatever Wendell decides, even though it's a lie -- but when he rolls over to look at the body on the other side of the bed, he finds himself alone.
Jack's heart picks up speed again, pounding against his chest the way it did when he first woke from the dream he can't remember. He rolls his eyes at himself and kicks the covers off, then he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and reaches for his boxers.
The house is mostly dark when he steps out of the bedroom, but there's a faint blue glow coming from the office at the end of the hall, and Jack follows the light until he finds Wendell hunched over the laptop he parked on Jack's carved mahogany desk over a year ago and hasn't moved since. Well, he's brought it to bed a few times, tapping away at the keys while Jack pretends to read a book or a trade journal and instead spends his time stealing glimpses of Wendell chewing on one side of his lip as he squints at the screen. He's been stressed out about his thesis since Jack met him, practically, so Jack tries not to laugh at him when he's concentrating hard. Besides, it's cute, and he'd rather Wendell was in bed keeping him warm while he stresses instead of down the hall by himself.
Jack stops in the doorway and leans against the frame, arms crossed over his chest while he watches Wendell type a few words, then scowl and backspace over them. "You realize it's the middle of the night."
Wendell starts and looks up at him, expression turning sheepish and Jack can't help smiling. "Yeah, I know. I didn't want to wake you."
"Maybe you should have. I might have been able to help you get back to sleep," Jack says, just to watch Wendell grin at him.
"I had an idea for the thesis, but it's all wrong," Wendell says, smile fading just as quickly as it appeared. "You think it's too late to bail on my doctorate and join the NHL instead?"
"You could always return to a life of crime. Either way I don't want to be there when you tell your mother."
"Don't remind me," Wendell groans. "I thought she'd at least wait to grill me about the future until I officially finished school."
He frowns at the memory of his mother's comments over dinner, and Jack wonders if maybe he should put off the future conversation again. But they've already put it off for over a year, and it won't be long before they really are out of time, one way or the other. "She loves you. So do I."
For a second Wendell just blinks at him, then one corner of his mouth turns up in a crooked smile. "I love you too."
"I know," Jack says, still braced against the door frame and suddenly the room seems a lot bigger than it ever has before. "But you shouldn't let that hold you back. Brennan's right, you're an amazing anthropologist. You'll probably get a lot of offers from all over, and..."
"Wait, are you breaking up with me?" Wendell interrupts, his voice creeping up an octave and if Jack wasn't too busy screwing this up he'd have time to appreciate how cute it was.
"Don't be stupid," he answers, but it comes out sounding more annoyed than he means it to. He takes a deep breath and tries again, keeping his voice as steady as possible while Wendell's looking at him like someone's recently kicked puppy. "I want you to stay. I just don't want you to turn down an opportunity because of me."
"Because of us," Wendell says, standing up and crossing the room on bare feet to stop in front of Jack. "I meant what I told Ma; D.C. is where my life is now. So unless you're kicking me out, you're stuck with me."
A hand lands on Jack's arm, easing his hands out of their death grip on his elbows. He lets Wendell tug his arms open, snorting a soft laugh as Wendell pulls Jack's arms around his waist. Jack rolls his eyes, but he pulls Wendell close anyway, pretending not to notice the smug grin on Wendell's face as he leans in to press a soft kiss against Jack's lips.
"I mean it," Jack tries again, but the effect is sort of lost when he's murmuring the words against Wendell's mouth. "I don't want to be the reason you turn down the perfect job."
"Yeah, well, too bad," Wendell says, the words warming Jack's skin as Wendell kisses a path down his neck. "Besides, I've already got a few offers from places right here in town. I figured we could talk about them once my family's gone."
"Really?" Jack asks, pulling back to stare at Wendell. "From who?"
"Well you don't have to sound so surprised," Wendell says, but he's grinning, and Jack can tell he's pretty pleased with himself.
"I'm just wondering who's trying to poach the Jeffersonian's best employees before they're even finished with their internships. What if we wanted to keep you? I could probably make that happen, you know. I know a guy."
Wendell laughs at that, shaking his head and leaning in to bury his face in the crook of Jack's neck. "No way. I'm not letting my boyfriend buy me my first job."
"Pity," Jack says as his arms tighten around Wendell's waist to pull him even closer. "I was looking forward to having something to hold over you."
Wendell mumbles something about sexual harassment against his skin, and Jack grins into his hair. "So are you going to tell me about these fabulous job offers or what? Don't tell me you're really applying to the FBI. You know they're at the heart of every government cover-up since Taft."
He's not surprised when Wendell looks up at him just so he can roll his eyes, but he doesn't argue when Wendell pushes him backwards into the hallway.
"Like I'd apply to the FBI with you around. I'd never hear the end of it," Wendell says, but he's grinning again, so Jack decides not to take it personally. Instead he lets Wendell steer him back to their bedroom, then he lets Wendell peel off the few clothes they bothered to put back on before he pushes Jack onto the bed. He's talking the entire time, something about an assistant professorship at Georgetown and a special project at the Holocaust Museum. He mentions a few other places, but Jack stops listening around the time Wendell plants a knee on either side of his hips.
He knows he'll have to get Wendell to repeat the whole list in the morning, when all the blood in his body isn't rushing to his groin. He wants to hear exactly what each place is offering -- and if any of them are undervaluing Wendell's talent they're getting crossed right off the list -- but it can wait until later, Jack decides as Wendell leans in to kiss him. After all, they've got plenty of time.
Fandom: Bones
Pairing: Wendell/Hodgins
Rating: PG
Summary: The post-script to The Good Life, in which loose ends are tied up regarding the future. Inspired by that very distracting meme from yesterday, and something cinderlily said last night. ~1400 words.
A/N: I stopped writing these two for awhile, for mostly stupid reasons, which I realized last night is hurting no one but myself. Because I love these two like burning, and they deserve better than anything canon is ever going to give them. So here I am, fic in hand. Do with that what you will.
Jack wakes from a dream about falling, the details fading faster the harder he tries to hold onto them. Finally he's left with nothing but the pounding of his heart and a vague sense that the dream had something to do with Wendell leaving. Angela didn't leave him such a basket case that he's developed some sort of abandonment complex, but the truth is Wendell's already gone through graduation, even if he's not officially done until the end of the summer, and there's a chance his job search might take him away from D.C.
They haven't talked about it yet, though Jack's pretty sure they should have. The closest they've gotten is at dinner with Wendell's family, when Wendell told his mother that his life is in D.C. now. The perfect time to talk about it would have been after they dropped off Wendell's family at their hotel, but as soon as they got home Wendell distracted him. A thank you for putting up with his family, he'd called it at the time, and Jack had laughed and let Wendell peel their clothes off as they stumbled toward the bedroom.
The distraction was definitely worth it, Jack thinks as he flexes, savoring the burn of well-used muscles in his arms and back. That still leaves an unfinished conversation, though, and just because Wendell wants to stay doesn't mean that will be the best choice for him. Jack figures he should say at least that much out loud -- that he's okay with whatever Wendell decides, even though it's a lie -- but when he rolls over to look at the body on the other side of the bed, he finds himself alone.
Jack's heart picks up speed again, pounding against his chest the way it did when he first woke from the dream he can't remember. He rolls his eyes at himself and kicks the covers off, then he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and reaches for his boxers.
The house is mostly dark when he steps out of the bedroom, but there's a faint blue glow coming from the office at the end of the hall, and Jack follows the light until he finds Wendell hunched over the laptop he parked on Jack's carved mahogany desk over a year ago and hasn't moved since. Well, he's brought it to bed a few times, tapping away at the keys while Jack pretends to read a book or a trade journal and instead spends his time stealing glimpses of Wendell chewing on one side of his lip as he squints at the screen. He's been stressed out about his thesis since Jack met him, practically, so Jack tries not to laugh at him when he's concentrating hard. Besides, it's cute, and he'd rather Wendell was in bed keeping him warm while he stresses instead of down the hall by himself.
Jack stops in the doorway and leans against the frame, arms crossed over his chest while he watches Wendell type a few words, then scowl and backspace over them. "You realize it's the middle of the night."
Wendell starts and looks up at him, expression turning sheepish and Jack can't help smiling. "Yeah, I know. I didn't want to wake you."
"Maybe you should have. I might have been able to help you get back to sleep," Jack says, just to watch Wendell grin at him.
"I had an idea for the thesis, but it's all wrong," Wendell says, smile fading just as quickly as it appeared. "You think it's too late to bail on my doctorate and join the NHL instead?"
"You could always return to a life of crime. Either way I don't want to be there when you tell your mother."
"Don't remind me," Wendell groans. "I thought she'd at least wait to grill me about the future until I officially finished school."
He frowns at the memory of his mother's comments over dinner, and Jack wonders if maybe he should put off the future conversation again. But they've already put it off for over a year, and it won't be long before they really are out of time, one way or the other. "She loves you. So do I."
For a second Wendell just blinks at him, then one corner of his mouth turns up in a crooked smile. "I love you too."
"I know," Jack says, still braced against the door frame and suddenly the room seems a lot bigger than it ever has before. "But you shouldn't let that hold you back. Brennan's right, you're an amazing anthropologist. You'll probably get a lot of offers from all over, and..."
"Wait, are you breaking up with me?" Wendell interrupts, his voice creeping up an octave and if Jack wasn't too busy screwing this up he'd have time to appreciate how cute it was.
"Don't be stupid," he answers, but it comes out sounding more annoyed than he means it to. He takes a deep breath and tries again, keeping his voice as steady as possible while Wendell's looking at him like someone's recently kicked puppy. "I want you to stay. I just don't want you to turn down an opportunity because of me."
"Because of us," Wendell says, standing up and crossing the room on bare feet to stop in front of Jack. "I meant what I told Ma; D.C. is where my life is now. So unless you're kicking me out, you're stuck with me."
A hand lands on Jack's arm, easing his hands out of their death grip on his elbows. He lets Wendell tug his arms open, snorting a soft laugh as Wendell pulls Jack's arms around his waist. Jack rolls his eyes, but he pulls Wendell close anyway, pretending not to notice the smug grin on Wendell's face as he leans in to press a soft kiss against Jack's lips.
"I mean it," Jack tries again, but the effect is sort of lost when he's murmuring the words against Wendell's mouth. "I don't want to be the reason you turn down the perfect job."
"Yeah, well, too bad," Wendell says, the words warming Jack's skin as Wendell kisses a path down his neck. "Besides, I've already got a few offers from places right here in town. I figured we could talk about them once my family's gone."
"Really?" Jack asks, pulling back to stare at Wendell. "From who?"
"Well you don't have to sound so surprised," Wendell says, but he's grinning, and Jack can tell he's pretty pleased with himself.
"I'm just wondering who's trying to poach the Jeffersonian's best employees before they're even finished with their internships. What if we wanted to keep you? I could probably make that happen, you know. I know a guy."
Wendell laughs at that, shaking his head and leaning in to bury his face in the crook of Jack's neck. "No way. I'm not letting my boyfriend buy me my first job."
"Pity," Jack says as his arms tighten around Wendell's waist to pull him even closer. "I was looking forward to having something to hold over you."
Wendell mumbles something about sexual harassment against his skin, and Jack grins into his hair. "So are you going to tell me about these fabulous job offers or what? Don't tell me you're really applying to the FBI. You know they're at the heart of every government cover-up since Taft."
He's not surprised when Wendell looks up at him just so he can roll his eyes, but he doesn't argue when Wendell pushes him backwards into the hallway.
"Like I'd apply to the FBI with you around. I'd never hear the end of it," Wendell says, but he's grinning again, so Jack decides not to take it personally. Instead he lets Wendell steer him back to their bedroom, then he lets Wendell peel off the few clothes they bothered to put back on before he pushes Jack onto the bed. He's talking the entire time, something about an assistant professorship at Georgetown and a special project at the Holocaust Museum. He mentions a few other places, but Jack stops listening around the time Wendell plants a knee on either side of his hips.
He knows he'll have to get Wendell to repeat the whole list in the morning, when all the blood in his body isn't rushing to his groin. He wants to hear exactly what each place is offering -- and if any of them are undervaluing Wendell's talent they're getting crossed right off the list -- but it can wait until later, Jack decides as Wendell leans in to kiss him. After all, they've got plenty of time.