(no subject)
Title: The Light You see
Author: curledfries
Pairing: David Hodges/Nick Stokes
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Jerry’s.
Summary: When David was fourteen, he was the dweeb with big glasses, carrying at least two books with him wherever he went and was constantly picked at on his choice of shirts.
When David was three, he learnt to stay away from his mother when she was upset. His father was military, rarely home but solely the reason why they kept moving. Sometimes his mother would lock herself in the room with a bottle of champagne, leaving David alone in the living room to take care of his younger sister. Sometimes, she would scramble through all the kitchen drawers, looking for her secret stash of cigarettes but it usually ended up being David who would take it from under the sink and hand it to her wordlessly, looking up at his mom with his bright blue eyes.
David learnt that people were best left alone when they needed to be. There was no reason to pry, no reason to poke, it wasn’t as if David was cruel enough to torture someone with his words, leaving them bare and open, something for David to gleefully poke at. He understood when Greg was having a day off, understood when Jacqui would go up on the roof for a quick smoke, understood when Ronnie scrubbed a hand over his face with his shoulders hunched over the prints he had to go through.
So when he and Nick were on the couch sitting at separate ends in a comfortable silence, he understood. The TV was on but they were both looking, not seeing. Nick had folded his arms, mouth set in a straight line and David could take hints. But when Nick scooted over, slowy, so slowly, until his head rested on David’s shoulder, all David had to do was put his hands around the shivering man, even though the room temperature was okay, and hold on tight.
When David was fourteen, he was the dweeb with big glasses, carrying at least two books with him wherever he went and was constantly picked at on his choice of shirts. He did okay in classes, wasn’t the big genius like the kid with the greasy hair sitting in the front but was pretty brilliant when it came to Science.
He scrunched up his nose when girls “eeeew!” ed at dissecting frogs and there was a form of glee in his heart that threatened to burst whenever his teacher started talking about chemicals, his mouth twitching and gradually turning into a smile. He entered Science Fairs and had only twice but twice was good enough, good enough for him to know what he was capable of but not good enough for his parents to come, not good enough for them to pay attention to the work he had done.
So when David walked into Grissom’s office for the first time, he thought he’d entered “Twilight Zone for New Scientists 101”, surrounded by fetal pigs and many other floating things in jars that he didn’t want to know about. Grissom simply smiled at him, leaning back into his chair and said ‘We’ll need a sample of your blood.” as if they’d known each other for the longest time to be asking for blood and returned to his Crossword.
When David was nineteen, his college roommate puked on his favourite pair of Nikes and crashed his computer far too many times to count. Usually David would lock him out of the room (“Dude, I’m sorry man, I thought you had the key!” “Man, if I had the key, why would I be outside and banging for you to open up?” “As if I know, you’re stupid when you’re drunk and sometimes even when you’re not, you moron.”) because those pair of Nikes were his only birthday present from a relative in Iowa, someone named Aunt Mildred but he was pretty sure that she’d gotten the address wrong and they were really really comfortable.
So when Nick had him cornered against the wall, chest to chest in the stifling club with his heart pounding so badly he was worried Nick would be able to hear it, he tuned out everything, the loud beats the DJ was playing, the constant chatter between people and the retching sound somewhere in the back of the bathroom, and just leaned in, stealing a swipe at Nick’s lower lip before plunging his tongue in into hot hot heat.
When David was thirty-eight, he found out what red was. Red was blood, red was anger, fear, helplessness and the constant build-up of nausea that threatened to overthrow him if he kept his mouth open for too long. He rushed in and out of labs, ignoring the nervous chatter that his friends were trying to engage him in, he knew what they were trying to do, trying to distract him, distract him from freaking out, from panicking because it was hard, so so hard to accept that Nick would be gone if they didn’t get to him on time.
So when David was in the hospital, holding Nick’s hand which was heavily bandaged, he couldn’t help but notice the lack of contrast that should have been there between the white bandage and Nick’s skin. He squeezed his hand, wanted to let Nick know that he was there, let him know that he was alive, he would get through this, they both would, together.
Then Nick opened his eyes and all David could see was brown brown brown.
Author: curledfries
Pairing: David Hodges/Nick Stokes
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Jerry’s.
Summary: When David was fourteen, he was the dweeb with big glasses, carrying at least two books with him wherever he went and was constantly picked at on his choice of shirts.
When David was three, he learnt to stay away from his mother when she was upset. His father was military, rarely home but solely the reason why they kept moving. Sometimes his mother would lock herself in the room with a bottle of champagne, leaving David alone in the living room to take care of his younger sister. Sometimes, she would scramble through all the kitchen drawers, looking for her secret stash of cigarettes but it usually ended up being David who would take it from under the sink and hand it to her wordlessly, looking up at his mom with his bright blue eyes.
David learnt that people were best left alone when they needed to be. There was no reason to pry, no reason to poke, it wasn’t as if David was cruel enough to torture someone with his words, leaving them bare and open, something for David to gleefully poke at. He understood when Greg was having a day off, understood when Jacqui would go up on the roof for a quick smoke, understood when Ronnie scrubbed a hand over his face with his shoulders hunched over the prints he had to go through.
So when he and Nick were on the couch sitting at separate ends in a comfortable silence, he understood. The TV was on but they were both looking, not seeing. Nick had folded his arms, mouth set in a straight line and David could take hints. But when Nick scooted over, slowy, so slowly, until his head rested on David’s shoulder, all David had to do was put his hands around the shivering man, even though the room temperature was okay, and hold on tight.
When David was fourteen, he was the dweeb with big glasses, carrying at least two books with him wherever he went and was constantly picked at on his choice of shirts. He did okay in classes, wasn’t the big genius like the kid with the greasy hair sitting in the front but was pretty brilliant when it came to Science.
He scrunched up his nose when girls “eeeew!” ed at dissecting frogs and there was a form of glee in his heart that threatened to burst whenever his teacher started talking about chemicals, his mouth twitching and gradually turning into a smile. He entered Science Fairs and had only twice but twice was good enough, good enough for him to know what he was capable of but not good enough for his parents to come, not good enough for them to pay attention to the work he had done.
So when David walked into Grissom’s office for the first time, he thought he’d entered “Twilight Zone for New Scientists 101”, surrounded by fetal pigs and many other floating things in jars that he didn’t want to know about. Grissom simply smiled at him, leaning back into his chair and said ‘We’ll need a sample of your blood.” as if they’d known each other for the longest time to be asking for blood and returned to his Crossword.
When David was nineteen, his college roommate puked on his favourite pair of Nikes and crashed his computer far too many times to count. Usually David would lock him out of the room (“Dude, I’m sorry man, I thought you had the key!” “Man, if I had the key, why would I be outside and banging for you to open up?” “As if I know, you’re stupid when you’re drunk and sometimes even when you’re not, you moron.”) because those pair of Nikes were his only birthday present from a relative in Iowa, someone named Aunt Mildred but he was pretty sure that she’d gotten the address wrong and they were really really comfortable.
So when Nick had him cornered against the wall, chest to chest in the stifling club with his heart pounding so badly he was worried Nick would be able to hear it, he tuned out everything, the loud beats the DJ was playing, the constant chatter between people and the retching sound somewhere in the back of the bathroom, and just leaned in, stealing a swipe at Nick’s lower lip before plunging his tongue in into hot hot heat.
When David was thirty-eight, he found out what red was. Red was blood, red was anger, fear, helplessness and the constant build-up of nausea that threatened to overthrow him if he kept his mouth open for too long. He rushed in and out of labs, ignoring the nervous chatter that his friends were trying to engage him in, he knew what they were trying to do, trying to distract him, distract him from freaking out, from panicking because it was hard, so so hard to accept that Nick would be gone if they didn’t get to him on time.
So when David was in the hospital, holding Nick’s hand which was heavily bandaged, he couldn’t help but notice the lack of contrast that should have been there between the white bandage and Nick’s skin. He squeezed his hand, wanted to let Nick know that he was there, let him know that he was alive, he would get through this, they both would, together.
Then Nick opened his eyes and all David could see was brown brown brown.