(no subject)
Title: Speak to Me
Author: catlover2x
Rating: PG but follows a NC-17 story
Disclaimer: I do not own them and I can't help it if they like to come out and play.
Thank you to my betas, the beautimous helena_eternal and fred_bear
Follows The Good ‘Ship Beauvallet and answers this week’s dhodges challenge: David finds something unexpected on his car windshield / kitchen table / lab coat pocket. Is it a letter? A photograph? Who is it from? Why did they want him to have it? What happens afterwards?
David Hodges looked up and saw Warrick Brown approaching the trace lab purposefully so he hurriedly grabbed his pager and punched in a text message. Then he peered down his microscope again.
“David,” Warrick said.
“Hmmm?” Hodges remained firmly focused on the microscope, “I don’t recall paging you and I don’t have time for a chat.”
“I think we need to talk, David,” Warrick said in a determined tone.
Greg popped his head in the door looking puzzled, and asked, “You paged me?”
“Yes, I have your stuff here, Warrick was just leaving so we can go over it. I know you’re in a hurry for the results,” David said, waving his hand vaguely toward a pile of reports on the back desk. Without another word, Warrick turned on his heel and strode down the hall.
Hodges looked forlornly down the hall after him and then returned to his microscope, murmuring to Greg, “Okay, beat it.”
“What’s this all about? I don’t have anything in trace, and you paged me, and now you’re kicking me out?” Greg paused, glaring at Hodges’ back. “Does this have anything to do with the way Warrick just stormed out of here?”
“Why would you even think that?” Hodges asked airily.
“Because I know you and something’s going on. Spill.” Greg sat on Hodges’ chair and leaned back, crossing his arms with every intention of staying for a while.
Hodges glared back at him, “I don’t have time to gratify your childish curiosity.”
“Great, then I won’t have time to rush to the rescue the next time you page me.” Greg got up and started to walk out.
“Wait, okay, something happened.”
“Good something or bad something?” Greg sitting down again.
Hodges leaned against the counter and looked down the hall again, “Both, yes, no, neither, I don’t know.”
“Thank you for clearing that up,” Greg rolled his eyes.
“Yesterdaymynewbookarrivedandhecaughtmewithit,” Hodges spit out in a rush.
“So?”
“Well, I got embarrassed!” Hodges replied, frustration seeping into his voice.
“And so now you need someone to hold your hand if he walks in the room?” Greg demanded incredulously. “How are you planning to give him results on cases, take out an ad in the paper?”
“No, that’s not it,” said Hodges miserably.
Greg looked up with sudden interest and grinned crookedly. “You didn’t-?”
“If I’d known you were going to make fun of this I never would have allowed you in here,” David snapped.
“You paged me, remember? So, how was it?” Greg asked.
David looked down at his shoes. “It was great,” he said miserably.
“I guess I don’t understand what the problem is,” Greg prodded, “Did he dump you? Tell you that you sucked? Not literally, of course, but-"
“Oh, shut up,” David said distractedly, “It’s not that, it’s me!”
Greg goggled at him, “What, you’re not attracted to him? He’s gorgeous! And he’s a great guy in addition to-”
“Greg!” David interjected desperately, “I don’t just…go to bed with people…without getting to know them…”
“What exactly happened, you just met in the parking lot and took off to go do it?”
Hodges returned to the close examination of his shoes. “More or less,” he mumbled.
Greg hid a grin, “So did he come in here and give you the “just friends - love you like a brother” speech?”
“No, I think he wants to get together again and I don't know how to get out of it.” David said miserably.
Greg asked, “Do you want to get out of it?”
“I don't know. I just can't go hop in bed again, though, and he probably expects it.”
“And if he doesn’t? Have you even asked him how he feels?” Greg asked in amazement.
Hodges hung his head, “No, I figured it was safer to just not talk to him.”
“And you’re a college graduate and published author!” Greg exclaimed in exasperation. “You need to get clear on what you want and talk to him about it. How do you see this playing out? You can't just page me to run in here whenever he walks down the hall. Even if I wanted to get stuck in the middle, which I don't, what if I'm not here?”
“I’ve got a back-up plan.” David said defensively. “I call Jacqui, Archie or Bobby.”
“Great solution. How do you see this working long term?” asked Greg sardonically.
“I just need some time to think,” Hodges sulked
“Well, if you need someone to listen…”
“I won't call you,” sniped Hodges, with a healthy return to sarcasm.
Greg shook his head and returned to the evidence room where he’d been examining a sheet under the ALS. When he saw Warrick waiting for him, looking so casual he was about to fall down, Greg almost turned around and fled for the restroom.
“Hey, Greg, got a moment?” Warrick asked, ever so casually.
Greg answered unwillingly, “Well I'm a little busy right now, can it wait?”
“This won't take long. I need some advice,”
Now it was Greg’s turn to almost fall down. “From me?” Greg squeaked.
“Okay, suppose you like this girl and, um, suppose you got carried away, and then you took it a little too far too soon, and suppose he - she won't talk to you the next day, what do you do?”
Greg looked at Warrick with his mouth open. This was definitely rising fast on the Top Ten List of Weird Days. “You've got this rep as this great 'lady's' man and you're asking me?”
Warrick pleaded, “This is serious, dude. Check it out, I can't even get near him - her - them to talk about what happened.”
“And you really like this him/her person?” Greg asked, trying not to laugh. He was starting to wonder if this was some elaborate joke. He wouldn’t put it past Hodges.
“What should I do?” Warrick asked miserably, “He - she - they won’t even look at me.”
“I don’t like to give advice, it always comes back to bite you in the butt.” Greg shook his head regretfully. “Suppose I say ‘go do this’ and you do it and it blows up in your face? You don't blame them, you blame me. So I can't really help you here.”
“Come on man, you're my buddy. What would you do if you pissed someone off and couldn't get them to talk to you?” Warrick really sounded upset.
Greg drew a deep breath. Relenting, he sighed, “I guess I would research them, find out what they like, and take some trouble to show them that I care enough to want to know what they want.”
“That's a good idea. Where would I start?” Warrick’s expression brightened. Greg almost expected him to whip out a pad and start taking notes any moment now.
“Do you know what this person likes to read?”
Warrick snorted with laughter, “Oh, yeah!”
“Well, how about reading something by their favorite author? Then you’d have something to talk about,” Greg carefully looked down at his evidence and NOT at Warrick. “Most 'chicks' really go for romances, have you ever read one?”
“No, can't say I have,” Warrick answered warily.
“I can really recommend this one by Violet Storm, it's called The Vagrant Heart. You can probably get one at Barnes & Noble, they have a large romance section. A girl I know told me about it,” he added helpfully.
Warrick looked thoughtful. “I'll check it out,” and he hurried out of the room.
Greg looked after him, unable to decide whether to laugh or duck for cover. He couldn’t wait to tell Nick about this. Greg would understand if Nick didn’t believe this; he didn’t believe any of it and he was there.
----
Warrick felt himself blushing as he finally left Barnes & Noble with a book bag under his arm. Hopefully the clerk thought he was buying these for his girlfriend because she didn’t make any comments. Warrick breathed a sigh of relief when he got home unobserved. He got some water and made some popcorn, and settled in to start reading the first book, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable even in the privacy of his own home.
An hour later he was surprised to find how much he was enjoying the book. David’s story was very clever and the dialog was intelligent and interesting. And the heroine’s mother was every bit as funny and sarcastic as Hodges himself. Warrick was interested to note that David managed to infuse the book with some of his own personality while weaving in accurate historical facts, along with a believable love story between intelligent though willful people.
Warrick skipped back to read one of the promotional blurbs on the inside cover: “A modern-day Jane Austin, Violet Storm brings a rare intelligence and humor to the often trite genre of historical romance. Her dialog sparkles and ranks amongst the best.” New York Times. Wow, that’s pretty impressive, thought Warrick.
Warrick got back into the book and suddenly he sat up straight. He read faster and faster, then dropped the book and crossed to his PC. He logged onto the internet and after one minute of research he had the answer. “I’ll do it,” he decided.
----
Hodges plodded wearily to his car in the weak light of dawn. Warrick hadn’t come near him in three days and he told himself he was very happy about that, right? Right?
As he approached his car he caught a hint of delicate fragrance wafting on the air and was startled to see three vividly-colored bluish-purple grape hyacinth spires tucked under the windshield wiper. He approached his car as cautiously as if the flowers were a bomb. He circled a bit, observing them from all angles. Finally, he carefully lifted the wiper blade and gingerly picked up the flowers. They were wrapped in white tissue, with a white satin ribbon tied in a plain bow. He shook his head in wonder. There was no tag or card. Probably got his car by accident. So he got in the car with his stuff and the flowers and went home.
The next day after his shift, Hodges peered at his car from a distance, trying to assure himself that the flowers yesterday were a fluke. But as he got closer, he flushed slightly when he saw a single perfect pink camellia. The stem of the double bloom was inserted into a florist’s vial of water. He tenderly removed the blossom from the windshield wiper and gazed at the overlapping petals widely splayed to reveal the golden heart.
When David arrived home he bent to sniff the hyacinths from yesterday. Then he selected a small cut-crystal bowl and filled it with water, floating the pink camellia on the surface. He placed it on the window sill where the sun refracted through the crystal, painting a dancing rainbow on the floor.
David crossed to the wall of books and his slender fingers riffled over the titles. Gingerly he pulled out a worn book, The Victorian Language of Flowers, and turned to hyacinths. The listing read: Hyacinth (purple) - I'm sorry; please forgive me; sorrow.
He smiled uncertainly and turned to another heading: Camellia (Pink) - Longing for you. He put his book down, wondering what, if anything, tomorrow might bring.
The next day David left work eagerly, hurrying to his car and he wasn’t disappointed. An incredibly heady scent announced the presence of a pearly white gardenia. The fragile petals were perfect, ruffled and curled, spiraling into a tight bud at the center, surrounded by waxy green leaves. Once home, he rushed for the book and found: Gardenia - Secret love; joy. He unwrapped the gardenia from the pale pink tissue that surrounded it and found a small white card. One letter: W, was inscribed in sweeping calligraphy. David smiled softly, looking really rather happy, considering his usual demeanor.
The next day in the lab, Hodges managed to lift his head from the microscope for the first time in a week when Warrick walked by. David looked at him with wide doe-like eyes, feeling all atwitter. Warrick looked back with a small smile and a pleading look in his eyes, but he didn’t stop. David watched him walk away down the hall and he returned to his work with a small smile of his own.
That day he found a white violet with purple veins leading to the center of the blossom, marked with pale yellow streaks. The rich furry-velvet leaves clustered tightly around the single bloom, wrapped in purple tissue. The small white card read,
Please speak to me, W.
David tugged his book out of his backpack to read: Violet (white) - Let's take a chance on happiness. The happy smile on his face transformed him. He drove home singing “We’ve Only Just Begun," by the Carpenters. If he’d been in his right mind he would not have been caught dead even humming along to that song. David thought maybe he could speak to Warrick.
The offering the next day was a single perfect crimson-red rose. David didn’t even need to consult his book for that one: Rose (red) - Love. He decided that tomorrow he would talk to Warrick.
But when he arrived in his lab the next day, David was surprised to find a row of carnations, the spicy fragrance filling the air. The single flowers were purple, red, solid pink, red and white striped, white, and yellow. The card read,
I need an answer. W.
Confused, he scrambled for his backpack and turned quickly to the section for Carnations.
• Carnation (purple) - Capriciousness; whimsical; changeable
• Carnation (red) - My heart aches for you; admiration,
• Carnation (solid colour: pink) - Yes
• Carnation (striped) - No; refusal; sorry I can't be with you
• Carnation (white) - Sweet and lovely; innocence;
• Carnation (yellow) - You have disappointed me; Rejection; disdain
David looked up with a light in his eyes and selected the solid pink carnation. Abashed but determined, he walked to the break room, pausing before entering to assume a serene, aloof expression. David strolled past Warrick, flicking the carnation onto the table in front of him. Then he turned and fled back to the trace lab. Warrick looked up with joy on his face and leaped to his feet, hurrying down the hall after David.
Greg nudged Nick at the table they were sharing. “That has got to be the weirdest matchmaking I’ve ever done.”
“And just how much matchmaking have you done, G?” asked Nick with alarm.
“Not a lot, and I think this is the last time. It’s just too strenuous,” Greg said smugly.
The Good 'Ship Beauvallet here
Author: catlover2x
Rating: PG but follows a NC-17 story
Disclaimer: I do not own them and I can't help it if they like to come out and play.
Thank you to my betas, the beautimous helena_eternal and fred_bear
Follows The Good ‘Ship Beauvallet and answers this week’s dhodges challenge: David finds something unexpected on his car windshield / kitchen table / lab coat pocket. Is it a letter? A photograph? Who is it from? Why did they want him to have it? What happens afterwards?
David Hodges looked up and saw Warrick Brown approaching the trace lab purposefully so he hurriedly grabbed his pager and punched in a text message. Then he peered down his microscope again.
“David,” Warrick said.
“Hmmm?” Hodges remained firmly focused on the microscope, “I don’t recall paging you and I don’t have time for a chat.”
“I think we need to talk, David,” Warrick said in a determined tone.
Greg popped his head in the door looking puzzled, and asked, “You paged me?”
“Yes, I have your stuff here, Warrick was just leaving so we can go over it. I know you’re in a hurry for the results,” David said, waving his hand vaguely toward a pile of reports on the back desk. Without another word, Warrick turned on his heel and strode down the hall.
Hodges looked forlornly down the hall after him and then returned to his microscope, murmuring to Greg, “Okay, beat it.”
“What’s this all about? I don’t have anything in trace, and you paged me, and now you’re kicking me out?” Greg paused, glaring at Hodges’ back. “Does this have anything to do with the way Warrick just stormed out of here?”
“Why would you even think that?” Hodges asked airily.
“Because I know you and something’s going on. Spill.” Greg sat on Hodges’ chair and leaned back, crossing his arms with every intention of staying for a while.
Hodges glared back at him, “I don’t have time to gratify your childish curiosity.”
“Great, then I won’t have time to rush to the rescue the next time you page me.” Greg got up and started to walk out.
“Wait, okay, something happened.”
“Good something or bad something?” Greg sitting down again.
Hodges leaned against the counter and looked down the hall again, “Both, yes, no, neither, I don’t know.”
“Thank you for clearing that up,” Greg rolled his eyes.
“Yesterdaymynewbookarrivedandhecaughtmewithit,” Hodges spit out in a rush.
“So?”
“Well, I got embarrassed!” Hodges replied, frustration seeping into his voice.
“And so now you need someone to hold your hand if he walks in the room?” Greg demanded incredulously. “How are you planning to give him results on cases, take out an ad in the paper?”
“No, that’s not it,” said Hodges miserably.
Greg looked up with sudden interest and grinned crookedly. “You didn’t-?”
“If I’d known you were going to make fun of this I never would have allowed you in here,” David snapped.
“You paged me, remember? So, how was it?” Greg asked.
David looked down at his shoes. “It was great,” he said miserably.
“I guess I don’t understand what the problem is,” Greg prodded, “Did he dump you? Tell you that you sucked? Not literally, of course, but-"
“Oh, shut up,” David said distractedly, “It’s not that, it’s me!”
Greg goggled at him, “What, you’re not attracted to him? He’s gorgeous! And he’s a great guy in addition to-”
“Greg!” David interjected desperately, “I don’t just…go to bed with people…without getting to know them…”
“What exactly happened, you just met in the parking lot and took off to go do it?”
Hodges returned to the close examination of his shoes. “More or less,” he mumbled.
Greg hid a grin, “So did he come in here and give you the “just friends - love you like a brother” speech?”
“No, I think he wants to get together again and I don't know how to get out of it.” David said miserably.
Greg asked, “Do you want to get out of it?”
“I don't know. I just can't go hop in bed again, though, and he probably expects it.”
“And if he doesn’t? Have you even asked him how he feels?” Greg asked in amazement.
Hodges hung his head, “No, I figured it was safer to just not talk to him.”
“And you’re a college graduate and published author!” Greg exclaimed in exasperation. “You need to get clear on what you want and talk to him about it. How do you see this playing out? You can't just page me to run in here whenever he walks down the hall. Even if I wanted to get stuck in the middle, which I don't, what if I'm not here?”
“I’ve got a back-up plan.” David said defensively. “I call Jacqui, Archie or Bobby.”
“Great solution. How do you see this working long term?” asked Greg sardonically.
“I just need some time to think,” Hodges sulked
“Well, if you need someone to listen…”
“I won't call you,” sniped Hodges, with a healthy return to sarcasm.
Greg shook his head and returned to the evidence room where he’d been examining a sheet under the ALS. When he saw Warrick waiting for him, looking so casual he was about to fall down, Greg almost turned around and fled for the restroom.
“Hey, Greg, got a moment?” Warrick asked, ever so casually.
Greg answered unwillingly, “Well I'm a little busy right now, can it wait?”
“This won't take long. I need some advice,”
Now it was Greg’s turn to almost fall down. “From me?” Greg squeaked.
“Okay, suppose you like this girl and, um, suppose you got carried away, and then you took it a little too far too soon, and suppose he - she won't talk to you the next day, what do you do?”
Greg looked at Warrick with his mouth open. This was definitely rising fast on the Top Ten List of Weird Days. “You've got this rep as this great 'lady's' man and you're asking me?”
Warrick pleaded, “This is serious, dude. Check it out, I can't even get near him - her - them to talk about what happened.”
“And you really like this him/her person?” Greg asked, trying not to laugh. He was starting to wonder if this was some elaborate joke. He wouldn’t put it past Hodges.
“What should I do?” Warrick asked miserably, “He - she - they won’t even look at me.”
“I don’t like to give advice, it always comes back to bite you in the butt.” Greg shook his head regretfully. “Suppose I say ‘go do this’ and you do it and it blows up in your face? You don't blame them, you blame me. So I can't really help you here.”
“Come on man, you're my buddy. What would you do if you pissed someone off and couldn't get them to talk to you?” Warrick really sounded upset.
Greg drew a deep breath. Relenting, he sighed, “I guess I would research them, find out what they like, and take some trouble to show them that I care enough to want to know what they want.”
“That's a good idea. Where would I start?” Warrick’s expression brightened. Greg almost expected him to whip out a pad and start taking notes any moment now.
“Do you know what this person likes to read?”
Warrick snorted with laughter, “Oh, yeah!”
“Well, how about reading something by their favorite author? Then you’d have something to talk about,” Greg carefully looked down at his evidence and NOT at Warrick. “Most 'chicks' really go for romances, have you ever read one?”
“No, can't say I have,” Warrick answered warily.
“I can really recommend this one by Violet Storm, it's called The Vagrant Heart. You can probably get one at Barnes & Noble, they have a large romance section. A girl I know told me about it,” he added helpfully.
Warrick looked thoughtful. “I'll check it out,” and he hurried out of the room.
Greg looked after him, unable to decide whether to laugh or duck for cover. He couldn’t wait to tell Nick about this. Greg would understand if Nick didn’t believe this; he didn’t believe any of it and he was there.
----
Warrick felt himself blushing as he finally left Barnes & Noble with a book bag under his arm. Hopefully the clerk thought he was buying these for his girlfriend because she didn’t make any comments. Warrick breathed a sigh of relief when he got home unobserved. He got some water and made some popcorn, and settled in to start reading the first book, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable even in the privacy of his own home.
An hour later he was surprised to find how much he was enjoying the book. David’s story was very clever and the dialog was intelligent and interesting. And the heroine’s mother was every bit as funny and sarcastic as Hodges himself. Warrick was interested to note that David managed to infuse the book with some of his own personality while weaving in accurate historical facts, along with a believable love story between intelligent though willful people.
Warrick skipped back to read one of the promotional blurbs on the inside cover: “A modern-day Jane Austin, Violet Storm brings a rare intelligence and humor to the often trite genre of historical romance. Her dialog sparkles and ranks amongst the best.” New York Times. Wow, that’s pretty impressive, thought Warrick.
Warrick got back into the book and suddenly he sat up straight. He read faster and faster, then dropped the book and crossed to his PC. He logged onto the internet and after one minute of research he had the answer. “I’ll do it,” he decided.
----
Hodges plodded wearily to his car in the weak light of dawn. Warrick hadn’t come near him in three days and he told himself he was very happy about that, right? Right?
As he approached his car he caught a hint of delicate fragrance wafting on the air and was startled to see three vividly-colored bluish-purple grape hyacinth spires tucked under the windshield wiper. He approached his car as cautiously as if the flowers were a bomb. He circled a bit, observing them from all angles. Finally, he carefully lifted the wiper blade and gingerly picked up the flowers. They were wrapped in white tissue, with a white satin ribbon tied in a plain bow. He shook his head in wonder. There was no tag or card. Probably got his car by accident. So he got in the car with his stuff and the flowers and went home.
The next day after his shift, Hodges peered at his car from a distance, trying to assure himself that the flowers yesterday were a fluke. But as he got closer, he flushed slightly when he saw a single perfect pink camellia. The stem of the double bloom was inserted into a florist’s vial of water. He tenderly removed the blossom from the windshield wiper and gazed at the overlapping petals widely splayed to reveal the golden heart.
When David arrived home he bent to sniff the hyacinths from yesterday. Then he selected a small cut-crystal bowl and filled it with water, floating the pink camellia on the surface. He placed it on the window sill where the sun refracted through the crystal, painting a dancing rainbow on the floor.
David crossed to the wall of books and his slender fingers riffled over the titles. Gingerly he pulled out a worn book, The Victorian Language of Flowers, and turned to hyacinths. The listing read: Hyacinth (purple) - I'm sorry; please forgive me; sorrow.
He smiled uncertainly and turned to another heading: Camellia (Pink) - Longing for you. He put his book down, wondering what, if anything, tomorrow might bring.
The next day David left work eagerly, hurrying to his car and he wasn’t disappointed. An incredibly heady scent announced the presence of a pearly white gardenia. The fragile petals were perfect, ruffled and curled, spiraling into a tight bud at the center, surrounded by waxy green leaves. Once home, he rushed for the book and found: Gardenia - Secret love; joy. He unwrapped the gardenia from the pale pink tissue that surrounded it and found a small white card. One letter: W, was inscribed in sweeping calligraphy. David smiled softly, looking really rather happy, considering his usual demeanor.
The next day in the lab, Hodges managed to lift his head from the microscope for the first time in a week when Warrick walked by. David looked at him with wide doe-like eyes, feeling all atwitter. Warrick looked back with a small smile and a pleading look in his eyes, but he didn’t stop. David watched him walk away down the hall and he returned to his work with a small smile of his own.
That day he found a white violet with purple veins leading to the center of the blossom, marked with pale yellow streaks. The rich furry-velvet leaves clustered tightly around the single bloom, wrapped in purple tissue. The small white card read,
Please speak to me, W.
David tugged his book out of his backpack to read: Violet (white) - Let's take a chance on happiness. The happy smile on his face transformed him. He drove home singing “We’ve Only Just Begun," by the Carpenters. If he’d been in his right mind he would not have been caught dead even humming along to that song. David thought maybe he could speak to Warrick.
The offering the next day was a single perfect crimson-red rose. David didn’t even need to consult his book for that one: Rose (red) - Love. He decided that tomorrow he would talk to Warrick.
But when he arrived in his lab the next day, David was surprised to find a row of carnations, the spicy fragrance filling the air. The single flowers were purple, red, solid pink, red and white striped, white, and yellow. The card read,
I need an answer. W.
Confused, he scrambled for his backpack and turned quickly to the section for Carnations.
• Carnation (purple) - Capriciousness; whimsical; changeable
• Carnation (red) - My heart aches for you; admiration,
• Carnation (solid colour: pink) - Yes
• Carnation (striped) - No; refusal; sorry I can't be with you
• Carnation (white) - Sweet and lovely; innocence;
• Carnation (yellow) - You have disappointed me; Rejection; disdain
David looked up with a light in his eyes and selected the solid pink carnation. Abashed but determined, he walked to the break room, pausing before entering to assume a serene, aloof expression. David strolled past Warrick, flicking the carnation onto the table in front of him. Then he turned and fled back to the trace lab. Warrick looked up with joy on his face and leaped to his feet, hurrying down the hall after David.
Greg nudged Nick at the table they were sharing. “That has got to be the weirdest matchmaking I’ve ever done.”
“And just how much matchmaking have you done, G?” asked Nick with alarm.
“Not a lot, and I think this is the last time. It’s just too strenuous,” Greg said smugly.
The Good 'Ship Beauvallet here