Lost fic: With You [Charlie/Claire, Desmond/Penny, 378 words]
Notes: For hopelessfangirl at the luau, who wanted Charlie/Claire. Rated PG, 378 words.
With You
by eponine119
July 30, 2008
They dragged him to the ballet. He wasn't a ballet type; he was a rock star type. Charlie was acutely aware of how strongly he didn't belong. Everyone sitting near them had boring hair and nice clothes. He glanced at Desmond and even his old friend seemed to qualify. His hair had been neatly trimmed and he was wearing a tie.
"You could try to be a bit more gracious, brother," Desmond murmured to him. Penny was absorbed in reading her program, and beside Charlie, Claire stared dreamily at the set, silent and awaiting the dancers.
"Doin' my best," Charlie replied, but he couldn't help squirming and fidgeting in his seat. These things were bloody uncomfortable.
Desmond placed a hand against his arm. "Try harder." Then he turned away to murmur to Penny, who pointed things in the program out to him. They looked so in love. They deserved the be together. They'd waited so long. And of course Desmond was the kind of guy who'd take a girl to the ballet and not complain. He'd probably even manage to enjoy himself.
Charlie would rather be home twiddling on the guitar, Manchester United playing footie on the tv screen.
But that wouldn't bring such a look of awe to Claire's face. He knew, because that was what they did most nights. She did put up with a lot from him, Charlie thought.
"Oh, Charlie, I'm so excited," Claire said. "The Royal Ballet. I used to dream of being a ballerina when I was tiny."
Charlie could just picture that, Claire with her white blonde hair tangling as she twirled underneath the hot Australian sun. It made him smile. He couldn't say anything, because it would be false. But then he realized.
"I'm happy to be here with you." That one little prepositional phrase changed it all. Claire squeezed his hand as the lights began to dim and the murmuring from the crowd faded into silence.
A funny thing happened when the show began. Charlie learned that ballet wasn't all about boring leaps across the stage and delicate steps with French names. Ballet was about the music - embodying the music.
And the only thing in the world Charlie loved more than Claire, was music.
= end =
With You
by eponine119
July 30, 2008
They dragged him to the ballet. He wasn't a ballet type; he was a rock star type. Charlie was acutely aware of how strongly he didn't belong. Everyone sitting near them had boring hair and nice clothes. He glanced at Desmond and even his old friend seemed to qualify. His hair had been neatly trimmed and he was wearing a tie.
"You could try to be a bit more gracious, brother," Desmond murmured to him. Penny was absorbed in reading her program, and beside Charlie, Claire stared dreamily at the set, silent and awaiting the dancers.
"Doin' my best," Charlie replied, but he couldn't help squirming and fidgeting in his seat. These things were bloody uncomfortable.
Desmond placed a hand against his arm. "Try harder." Then he turned away to murmur to Penny, who pointed things in the program out to him. They looked so in love. They deserved the be together. They'd waited so long. And of course Desmond was the kind of guy who'd take a girl to the ballet and not complain. He'd probably even manage to enjoy himself.
Charlie would rather be home twiddling on the guitar, Manchester United playing footie on the tv screen.
But that wouldn't bring such a look of awe to Claire's face. He knew, because that was what they did most nights. She did put up with a lot from him, Charlie thought.
"Oh, Charlie, I'm so excited," Claire said. "The Royal Ballet. I used to dream of being a ballerina when I was tiny."
Charlie could just picture that, Claire with her white blonde hair tangling as she twirled underneath the hot Australian sun. It made him smile. He couldn't say anything, because it would be false. But then he realized.
"I'm happy to be here with you." That one little prepositional phrase changed it all. Claire squeezed his hand as the lights began to dim and the murmuring from the crowd faded into silence.
A funny thing happened when the show began. Charlie learned that ballet wasn't all about boring leaps across the stage and delicate steps with French names. Ballet was about the music - embodying the music.
And the only thing in the world Charlie loved more than Claire, was music.
= end =