Gift exchange, Christmas 2010
We've had a talk and decided that we'll post one fic each day from today on. So here you have it, the first of our holiday fics.
Recipient: wihluta
Request: Life/Standoff, Matt/Charlie, Fic, Deathfic. I don't mind wich one dies.
Pairing/Fandom: Matt and Charlie, Life and Standoff
Rating: G
Warnings: In case you didn't notice, this is deathfic.
Happy Holiday Season, Wihluta, and I hope you like this.
There are never towels on the floor of the bathroom anymore. The bed is always neatly made. No sneakers kicked off by the front door, or coffee mugs discarded and found days later on random shelves.
No one is constantly bugging him to buy more furniture.
It’s beginning to drive Charlie mad.
*
Charlie never shuts the big glass doors that lead out to the bedroom’s balcony and the white sheers are always moving in the breeze. It’s movement that isn’t him, and he needs that.
He should probably sleep in another room, but even though the lack of someone else in this bed is slowly killing him, he can’t bear to sleep in a bed they haven’t slept in together.
He gets up and throws a pillow on the floor, untucks the top sheet.
It’s not going to bring Matt back, but it does make it seem a little like he never left.
*
He half expects, even now, for the shower curtain to be yanked back and for Matt to shove his way under the hot spray of the main shower head. There are three different ones in this shower, but Matt only ever seems... only ever seemed to want the one Charlie was standing under.
Charlie switches off the shower immediately because the sudden recollection is too much to bear. He dries off, and deliberately drops the towel on the floor before practically running out of the bathroom.
*
Lately, when Charlie wakes up and comes downstairs in the morning it’s to the smell of fresh coffee that he never grinds, that he never prepares. He doesn’t drink it and when he comes home the pot is clean and cold.
He looks out the window, and his car is the only one in the driveway. Ted is in Italy and has been for two weeks. So who is sneaking into his house every morning to do this?
Charlie sips his tea. When it’s gone he empties the coffee pot and takes the coffee maker outside and drops it in the garbage bin.
If there are delusions to be had, he’s going to make sure they’re his, and not ones that someone else thinks will comfort him.
*
Charlie wakes up in the middle of the night and sits up in bed with a start. He stares at the figure at the window, curtains billowing around him. Charlie blinks several times, and thinks now might be the time to start seeing that shrink Reese keeps mentioning.
“What the fuck am I supposed to drink now?” Matt asks, frowning as he looks over.
Charlie blinks again, and then there’s no one there. He doesn’t move until the dawn intrudes, lighting the entire room. He skips work and buys the most expensive coffee maker he can find. He sets it up in the kitchen and doesn’t go in there for the rest of the day, sitting against the wall just outside the kitchen entrance so he can’t see in, either.
When he hears and smells the coffee start brewing he rests his head in his hands and cries.
*
“Stop leaving your towels on the floor.”
Charlie whips around, almost falling over in the shower. He pulls back the curtain and sees Matt leaning against the wall, sipping coffee from his favourite mug.
“You aren’t me. And towels on the floor are a hazard,” Matt adds.
Charlie slides down the wall, sitting under the spray, too shocked to even speak.
“My grandfather’s best friend, he swore he talked to my grandfather after he died,” Matt says. “I didn’t believe he could, but I think he maybe did, after all.”
Charlie rubs his face, and when he drops his hands, Matt’s gone again. But Charlie stops leaving his towels on the floor after that.
*
He’s starting to get used to it. And he’s not sure that’s a good thing.
But Reese has stopped watching him with that look that says she thinks he’s going to leap off a building one of these days, and she’s gone back to rolling her eyes at him. Imagined or not, seeing Matt is helping him. He’s not going to do anything that entails losing that, even if they are hallucinations.
Charlie’s not entirely convinced they are hallucinations.
*
“You aren’t crazy.”
Charlie’s over the initial shock that Matt’s visits used to bring. But having someone appear out of nowhere still makes him jump a little. He ducks his head and continues peeling the orange, dropping the peel down to the dirt beneath his shoes. Around him the orange trees rustle in the wind. Behind him Matt speaks again. Charlie imagines, as he slips a segment of orange into his mouth, that the rustle of leaves is the sound of Matt breathing.
“Well, not any crazier than you were before...this.”
“Before you died?” Charlie asks, and it’s the first time he’s actually spoken to, to this apparition, whatever it is, and the first time he’s said that particular phrase out loud.
“Yeah. You were crazy before. This, it’s not because you’ve suddenly gone off the rails.”
Charlie sucks on the orange in his mouth for a moment before chewing and swallowing it. He takes a deep breath and turns around to find not a ghost, or an apparition, but Matt leaning against a tree, hands in his pockets. He’s wearing his favourite t-shirt and jeans. Charlie’s always hated that t-shirt and that enforces that this isn’t him imagining Matt’s presence. Matt would be naked if Charlie was going to start conjuring up his image.
“So what is it?” Charlie asks.
Matt shrugs. “Hell if I know.”
“Is this, will you always be around? Like this?” He can hear the desperation in his own voice. He’ll take this, if that’s what he gets. He can’t go back to have nothing left of Matt but memories.
“Haunting you?” Matt scratches the back of his head. “All I know is that I can’t be without you. And I won’t leave you on your own.”
Charlie drops the rest of the orange, appetite gone. “I don’t know if I can do this, Matt,” he admits softly.
“I don’t know if either of us has a choice,” Matt says.
Charlie leaves Matt in the middle of the grove and walks away.
*
“Do you want me to stop coming to see you?”
Charlie pulls himself out of the pool and stares at Matt, who is sprawled on one of the deck chairs. After a few moments of silence and dripping on the stone, Charlie reaches for the towel and dries himself off.
“No,” he decides. “I don’t think...” He trails off and sits on the second deck chair. “I can’t lose you twice,” he says, staring at his feet.
Matt sits up and reaches out, fingers hovering just under Charlie’s chin, and Charlie can swear he feels something like a touch, almost a soft brush of air over his skin.
“I miss you,” Matt says. “I wish I could touch you again.”
Charlie chokes back something half like a laugh, half like a sob, and rubs his face. “I love you, Matt. I didn’t say it enough.”
“You didn’t have to.” Matt leans back and stretches out on the deck chair again. “Would I be here if you didn’t love me? If I didn’t love you?”
Charlie presses his lips together and looks up, watches the way Matt’s chest moves, as if he were still breathing, laid out on the chair with his eyes closed. “Maybe you came back to bother me some more,” he finally says, and Matt just grins in response.
It’s enough, Charlie tells himself, and lays back on the deck chair. It has to be.
* * *
Recipient: wihluta
Request: Life/Standoff, Matt/Charlie, Fic, Deathfic. I don't mind wich one dies.
Pairing/Fandom: Matt and Charlie, Life and Standoff
Rating: G
Warnings: In case you didn't notice, this is deathfic.
Happy Holiday Season, Wihluta, and I hope you like this.
There are never towels on the floor of the bathroom anymore. The bed is always neatly made. No sneakers kicked off by the front door, or coffee mugs discarded and found days later on random shelves.
No one is constantly bugging him to buy more furniture.
It’s beginning to drive Charlie mad.
*
Charlie never shuts the big glass doors that lead out to the bedroom’s balcony and the white sheers are always moving in the breeze. It’s movement that isn’t him, and he needs that.
He should probably sleep in another room, but even though the lack of someone else in this bed is slowly killing him, he can’t bear to sleep in a bed they haven’t slept in together.
He gets up and throws a pillow on the floor, untucks the top sheet.
It’s not going to bring Matt back, but it does make it seem a little like he never left.
*
He half expects, even now, for the shower curtain to be yanked back and for Matt to shove his way under the hot spray of the main shower head. There are three different ones in this shower, but Matt only ever seems... only ever seemed to want the one Charlie was standing under.
Charlie switches off the shower immediately because the sudden recollection is too much to bear. He dries off, and deliberately drops the towel on the floor before practically running out of the bathroom.
*
Lately, when Charlie wakes up and comes downstairs in the morning it’s to the smell of fresh coffee that he never grinds, that he never prepares. He doesn’t drink it and when he comes home the pot is clean and cold.
He looks out the window, and his car is the only one in the driveway. Ted is in Italy and has been for two weeks. So who is sneaking into his house every morning to do this?
Charlie sips his tea. When it’s gone he empties the coffee pot and takes the coffee maker outside and drops it in the garbage bin.
If there are delusions to be had, he’s going to make sure they’re his, and not ones that someone else thinks will comfort him.
*
Charlie wakes up in the middle of the night and sits up in bed with a start. He stares at the figure at the window, curtains billowing around him. Charlie blinks several times, and thinks now might be the time to start seeing that shrink Reese keeps mentioning.
“What the fuck am I supposed to drink now?” Matt asks, frowning as he looks over.
Charlie blinks again, and then there’s no one there. He doesn’t move until the dawn intrudes, lighting the entire room. He skips work and buys the most expensive coffee maker he can find. He sets it up in the kitchen and doesn’t go in there for the rest of the day, sitting against the wall just outside the kitchen entrance so he can’t see in, either.
When he hears and smells the coffee start brewing he rests his head in his hands and cries.
*
“Stop leaving your towels on the floor.”
Charlie whips around, almost falling over in the shower. He pulls back the curtain and sees Matt leaning against the wall, sipping coffee from his favourite mug.
“You aren’t me. And towels on the floor are a hazard,” Matt adds.
Charlie slides down the wall, sitting under the spray, too shocked to even speak.
“My grandfather’s best friend, he swore he talked to my grandfather after he died,” Matt says. “I didn’t believe he could, but I think he maybe did, after all.”
Charlie rubs his face, and when he drops his hands, Matt’s gone again. But Charlie stops leaving his towels on the floor after that.
*
He’s starting to get used to it. And he’s not sure that’s a good thing.
But Reese has stopped watching him with that look that says she thinks he’s going to leap off a building one of these days, and she’s gone back to rolling her eyes at him. Imagined or not, seeing Matt is helping him. He’s not going to do anything that entails losing that, even if they are hallucinations.
Charlie’s not entirely convinced they are hallucinations.
*
“You aren’t crazy.”
Charlie’s over the initial shock that Matt’s visits used to bring. But having someone appear out of nowhere still makes him jump a little. He ducks his head and continues peeling the orange, dropping the peel down to the dirt beneath his shoes. Around him the orange trees rustle in the wind. Behind him Matt speaks again. Charlie imagines, as he slips a segment of orange into his mouth, that the rustle of leaves is the sound of Matt breathing.
“Well, not any crazier than you were before...this.”
“Before you died?” Charlie asks, and it’s the first time he’s actually spoken to, to this apparition, whatever it is, and the first time he’s said that particular phrase out loud.
“Yeah. You were crazy before. This, it’s not because you’ve suddenly gone off the rails.”
Charlie sucks on the orange in his mouth for a moment before chewing and swallowing it. He takes a deep breath and turns around to find not a ghost, or an apparition, but Matt leaning against a tree, hands in his pockets. He’s wearing his favourite t-shirt and jeans. Charlie’s always hated that t-shirt and that enforces that this isn’t him imagining Matt’s presence. Matt would be naked if Charlie was going to start conjuring up his image.
“So what is it?” Charlie asks.
Matt shrugs. “Hell if I know.”
“Is this, will you always be around? Like this?” He can hear the desperation in his own voice. He’ll take this, if that’s what he gets. He can’t go back to have nothing left of Matt but memories.
“Haunting you?” Matt scratches the back of his head. “All I know is that I can’t be without you. And I won’t leave you on your own.”
Charlie drops the rest of the orange, appetite gone. “I don’t know if I can do this, Matt,” he admits softly.
“I don’t know if either of us has a choice,” Matt says.
Charlie leaves Matt in the middle of the grove and walks away.
*
“Do you want me to stop coming to see you?”
Charlie pulls himself out of the pool and stares at Matt, who is sprawled on one of the deck chairs. After a few moments of silence and dripping on the stone, Charlie reaches for the towel and dries himself off.
“No,” he decides. “I don’t think...” He trails off and sits on the second deck chair. “I can’t lose you twice,” he says, staring at his feet.
Matt sits up and reaches out, fingers hovering just under Charlie’s chin, and Charlie can swear he feels something like a touch, almost a soft brush of air over his skin.
“I miss you,” Matt says. “I wish I could touch you again.”
Charlie chokes back something half like a laugh, half like a sob, and rubs his face. “I love you, Matt. I didn’t say it enough.”
“You didn’t have to.” Matt leans back and stretches out on the deck chair again. “Would I be here if you didn’t love me? If I didn’t love you?”
Charlie presses his lips together and looks up, watches the way Matt’s chest moves, as if he were still breathing, laid out on the chair with his eyes closed. “Maybe you came back to bother me some more,” he finally says, and Matt just grins in response.
It’s enough, Charlie tells himself, and lays back on the deck chair. It has to be.
* * *