Journey to Your Heart

[flamingwildflow]

Title: Journey to Your Heart

Author: FlamingWildflow

Pairing: Ian Edgerton/Don Eppes

Rating: PG-13, Fluff, Romance

Summary: Ian Edgerton thought he knew Don Eppes more than anyone else. With his time mostly spent observing the man or getting to know him when they worked together, how could he not? But, one unexpected invite to Don's apartment later and Ian found himself faced with a secret side to the FBI leader that he would never expect.

Warnings: None. Just purely diabetic fluff. Oh, and secret History and literature nerd Don Eppes along with Ian being just...the SMOOTHEST motherfucker on earth.



Out of all the things that could happen, an invitation to Don Eppes’s apartment wasn’t one that Ian could ever predict.

Getting a request for help on a case was something that he’s grown to get used to. People need an expert and he was by far the most available one around. Although that didn’t stop him from sighing in annoyance whenever he saw it. Most of the teams he worked with like to restrict him, step on his toes thinking they knew better when they were the ones who called him for his expert opinion. They didn’t like being told they were wrong and the more annoying ones would always clash with him on that. The others were usually less than brave, preferring to hide behind false smiles and fake pretenses, not knowing that Ian knew they were shitting on him behind their back. As much as he hated people who wouldn’t take his expert opinion when they asked for it, he hated dishonest people even more. Ian Edgerton doesn’t play well with others and he’s not going to bend over backwards to start now just because people can’t handle him.

This is why he didn’t hesitate to pack his bags when he saw whose team was asking for his help.

It wasn’t a secret that Ian has a favourite team that he liked to work with. Everyone around him knew that if two requests came to him and one of them was from that team, he would choose that one in a heartbeat, no matter what the other case was. He had turned a lot of cases that would’ve been lucrative for his career just so he could run around with a little FBI team from LA, kicking ass and taking names with one of the few people Ian considered as his equal. Although some people thought it was odd that Ian enjoyed hanging out with a man like that.

Because it was easy for people to look at Don Eppes and make assumptions about him.

Don was pretty. Stupidly pretty. A lot of the time, he’s even prettier than the ladies that were throwing themselves at him. And how could he not be? With dark and intense eyes, soft pale skin, lips that were naturally as pink as the lipstick that some of the women wore, a charming boyish smile, and one hell of a body, he looks like he would be more at home on the cover page of a modeling magazine rather than a grizzly crime scene. It was easy for people to underestimate him, to see him as nothing more than a pretty face who didn’t belong in the world of crime. Hell, it was one of the things that people liked to gossip about Ian. That he only like to work with Don’s team because Don was pretty, that he only saw Don as nothing more than a warm body to use, that Ian only tolerated him because Don was a good fuck.

Ian had never felt so insulted for someone else in his entire life.

Some people might think this is odd considering Ian’s first impression of the man. As much as he hated to admit it now, when he first saw Don, he also assumed that the man was nothing more than a pretty boy. But, unlike the others, he threw his assumption out of the window as soon as the shorter man opened his mouth. Don was sarcastic, able to trade verbal blows with Ian beat for beat. Don was intelligent, able to follow along with Ian’s observations and even add some of his own. Don was caring, sometimes even too much if Ian was being honest, especially for people who don’t deserve it. Don was self-sacrificing, he once ran around from agent to agent after a firefight, making sure that no one was hurt before suddenly collapsing, having ignored his own injuries for the sake of making sure everyone was fine.

Don Eppes was so much more than what he thought he was, than what he allowed other people to see he was, than what other people believed he was. Ian had enjoyed the earlier parts of their partnership, going from co-workers to friends, getting his speculations confirmed and seeing the man for who he was. Ian had thought that after all this time, he knew the man inside and out. That he already knew everything there is to know about Don.

But turns out, Don really liked to throw a curveball at his face.

It started out pretty standard. After he reached the office, he instantly went to the floor he frequented the most. After getting out, he looked around, trying to spot the familiar spiky hair. It wasn’t long before Ian’s sharp eyes saw him, leaning back against his chair, his legs propped up on his desk, scribbling away on a thick, black, leatherbound journal. He could see bits of rope weaved into the material along the spine, like the book was being bound by the rope. But, one flash of silver from the interior later and he could tell that it was a binder. There was also rope that looked like it would be used to wrap around the book to keep it closed, now dangling uselessly as the book was kept open on Don’s thigh. Ian couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow at it. He decided to walk to an area where he could be hidden so that no one could see him, but he could see them. He wanted to analyze what the book could be and he had a feeling that it would take him some time.

Looking at the almost expensive looking material, it was definitely a personal one since the Bureau will never issue these kinds of notebooks. It can’t be a diary either because only a stupid person or an attention whore would go out of their way to write in their diary out in the open where everyone can see and ask. But judging by the way Don was keeping it close to him, holding it in a way that made sure no one could see the interior from the sides, it had to still be something somewhat personal. It reminded him of himself when he drew in his books. But when Ian held that position, it was to make sure that no one asked any questions or asked for requests. Whereas for Don, Ian had a feeling that he did it because it was embarrassing. Knowing Don Eppes though, almost anything could be considered in that category for him.

As he saw Don shift in his seat from his stiff position, something appeared, dangling from the book. Ian couldn’t help but let out a soft huff of amusement. On the top of the spine was a piece of rope that was threaded through a hole. But there, threaded through the rope was a familiar charm. One that Ian had given Don during their first solo case without Charlie or the team there.

“Holy shit…I thought I was going to die there” Don gasped, his body was bent over with one hand on his leg to brace himself, the other one was clutching his heart, “a bit more to the left and it would’ve been my head.” Ian held tightly onto his rifle, ignoring the commotion around them as he stared at the panting leader. They were currently at a fair on a mission to take down a suspect that had been eluding them. The operation was supposed to be discrete so they had a lot of the agents wander around in plain clothes.

It started off great at first but somewhere along the lines, their suspect found out and reached out to grab the nearest person hostage. Don, who was the the closest agent at the time, saw that their suspect was about to make their move so he grabbed the person next to him that their suspect was about to snatch and shoved her away. Unfortunately, that meant that HE was now the person that was closest so their suspect reached out to grab him instead, holding him hostage. Considering the fact that they were both somewhat similar in height with their suspect being a little bit taller, Ian couldn’t help but feel that this was going to be one of the more difficult shots that he’s had to make in his career.

After a few hours of a tense standoff, Ian had managed to get an opening and fire a shot. He could almost see in slow motion the bullet whizzing through the air, missing Don’s head by a mere few inches before it buried itself into their suspect’s skull.

“You wouldn’t be in that situation if you didn’t intervene” Ian replied coolly. Cruel as it sounded, he knew he was objectively right. When it came to hostage situations, that lady was the more ideal one than Don. She was smaller and would’ve given Ian far more areas to shoot. There was less room to mess up, to accidentally kill someone, unless of course one of these incompetent officers decided to do something stupid. She would’ve gotten away with mental scars, but she would be alive. Her survival was certainly a higher percentage compared to Don’s.

“And what? Let her get traumatized?” Don shot at him, giving him the stink eye. It seems that Don also realized the angle of Ian’s thoughts, only getting bothered at the fact that she would’ve been traumatized rather than getting mad at putting an innocent life at risk. It seems that Don trusted Ian’s skills enough to keep the civilians safe.

“One traumatized woman is better than a dead Don Eppes” Ian replied, hitting him at the heart of the matter. He could see Don visibly flinch, although he made no outward protest as he got back up again.

“Yeah well, I’d rather have one dead Don Eppes than the possibility of a dead innocent civilian” Don grumbled, dusting himself off. Ian gripped his rifle even tighter. He always hated this side of Don, the self-sacrificing side. The one who would throw everything he had away just to help or protect someone. Ian himself never saw the point in doing something like that. It’s not that he didn’t want to help out, but if helping out entailed giving a part of himself or getting hurt for someone’s sake with no balanced reward? He would rather just deal with the problem itself. In a world where competence can be punished, Ian was sure to only do jobs that equaled his worth in skill in order to get the best outcome. It would all be one vicious cycle anyways. Once he gave something up in order to help someone else, another one would pop up asking for his help, forcing him to give another part of himself. Not only that, usually the person that you sacrificed for would end up being in a worse situation than you. Stuck in a guilty loop of not feeling good enough, of being traumatized with no physical signs because those physical signs were on you. It was messy and most of the time, more trouble than it’s worth.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, it seems like Don Eppes missed that memo.

“Tell that to your loved ones.”

Don shot him a dark look. “Who are you to berate my choices?”

Ian bit back a sigh, knowing that he pushed too far. He really shouldn’t have, but the sight of Don ordering the armed agents to shoot him in order to get to the suspect bothered Ian more than he’d like to admit. And Don was right. They were nothing more than friendly co-workers. Ian didn’t have the right to push him like that. Seeing Ian silent caused Don to calm down a bit, although the anger was still clear on his face. “Look, I’m going to go do damage control alright, feel free to look around before we have to pack up” he said before stomping away. It was clear that the damage control part was mostly an excuse so that Don could cool off.

Ian rubbed his face, somewhat annoyed. Whether it was at himself or Don, he wasn’t sure yet. While he knew he was in the right, he knew that his actions were not the most appropriate one. He looked down and kicked a rock, looking around the area for something to do in the meantime. The stalls were being cleared out and everyone around was being interrogated, the crowd thinning as they were all separated. He walked around, observing the stalls and the people.

As he looked around, he saw one stall that caught his eye. It was clearly from a more classy establishment, probably a store that decided to do a showcase in the fair. The kiosk was made of dark wood with a sign that said ‘Samantha and Co’ on it. He got closer to take a look and realized that it was a jewelry store with an assortment of knick knacks around. Ian wasn’t much of a jewelry guy himself, but he could see the craftsmanship that was on display. No piece was identical, all had their unique look to it. Safe to say, he was impressed. He was about to go away when something caught his eye.

There, in the middle of the desk, lay a sword shaped charm.

Ian was almost struck at how intricate it was. The charm itself was decently sized, almost as long as his pointy finger. The golden hilt of the sword had some small intricate designs on the grip, a small and round red and orange stone sitting on top of it. The cross guard itself was in the shape of two wings, a bird if the carved feathers were anything to go by. There were a few spaced out gems on each row on the wings, all different colours. The top row was a deep shade of red, followed by a lighter red, and then orange, then lighter orange, and lastly yellow. The gems didn’t make the entire thing look tacky like most iced out jewelry. Instead, it looked elegant. Ian figured it was because they only used a little of them and made sure to have adequate space between each gem. Whoever designed this clearly had excellent artistic skills.

Looking down, he could see that the blade itself was a little different than the rest. While the wings had the colour schemes of red and yellow, the blade itself was a clear, dark brown crystal. It was clearly made to be simple to balance out the intricate design of the hilt, drawing your focus to the star of the show. But as soon as he changed his position to get a better look, the light from the sun shone on it, turning the dark brown colour into something lighter, like honey. As soon as he saw that, Ian couldn’t help but draw comparisons to a certain someone. Someone whose dark brown eyes are intense in their gaze but capable of kindness and compassion. The same eyes that turned into the same molten honey colour as soon as the light hit, giving the people around him a sweet smile, his brightness rivaling the sun. Ian wasn’t the type to spin poetry like this at all, but it seems that Don Eppes brought out something in him that he never expected.

That or those trashy romance books that he reads in the middle of stakeouts as he waited had finally started to rot his brain.

As Ian was standing there, admiring the piece, a voice spoke up. “Excuse me Sir, but it seems that that piece has caught your eye.”

Ian looked up and saw a tall blonde woman, her uniform with the tag ‘Samantha’ told him that this person was the owner of the booth. “Yeah, I just didn’t expect something so intricate. You did a really good job with this.”

The woman smiled, “Thank you. I considered this one my best work.” She took the charm and held it, pointing at the wings. “Do you know why I put red, orange, and yellow crystals on this?”

Ian shook his head, interested.

“These wings are supposed to resemble that of a phoenix, symbolizing rebirth. This entire piece symbolizes a fighter, a protector of some sorts. Someone who is brave enough to take up the sword and defend others, but determined enough to come back despite all the hardships that come. Like a phoenix themselves, their strong will allows them to rise from the ashes of their mistakes, rebuilding themselves to become stronger than they were before. Allowing them to come back again, and again until everyone is safe.”

Ian listened intently as she explained, impressed at the level of detail and thought she had put into the piece. He also couldn’t help but draw more parallels from this piece to Don. If that didn’t describe the man, he didn’t know what did. Although Ian would probably replace the word determined with stubborn. That seems more in line with the fiery agent.

“How long did it take you to make this?” Ian asked, expecting her to answer. But to his surprise, instead of answering, the woman just handed it over to him.

“I saw what you and your friend did. I’m assuming that he’s the one you were thinking of when I was talking about this charm.”

Ian was taken aback, was he really that transparent? He really needed to step his game up if he did.

The woman only laughed. “No, you’re not transparent. In fact, you were stone cold. But, I’ve been in this business for long enough to know when something resonates with someone.”

Ian felt relieved at that. He didn’t want just any schmuck analyzing him. It would be bad for him and for everyone involved. He placed his hand on his chin, looking at the charm in his hand. Looking over at the stall, he could see that the charm was priced at sixty dollars, but it was bumped off to fifty for the fair. While it was certainly more expensive than something he’d ever get for himself, something within him was compelled to get it.

He should really stop reading those romance books, they clearly weren’t good for his psyche.

“I’ll take it,” he said. She went to the back of the booth and brought out a clearly handcrafted black jewelry box. The box itself was small, its surface glossy, probably because it was made out of glass. A phoenix was painted on the lid, gold stripes lining the edges of the box. She took the charm from him, placed it in the velvet lined box, and placed it in a paper bag. “Here” she said, smiling.

Ian graciously took it and went off to find Don.

It didn’t take long for him to find Don, standing around as he observed his surroundings, his eyes obscured by the sunglasses. “Hey Eppes” he called out. Don turned to look at him, a small smile now on his face as he took off his glasses. It seemed like Don wasn’t too mad at him anymore.

“Ian” Don nodded, greeting him. “What’s that?” he asked, tilting his head to the side in interest.

“An apology gift for you” Ian said, lifting the paper bag.

“For what?” Don’s head was still tilted as he scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion.

“I had no right to say what I did, even if I know I’m right,” he replied. Ian never played well with others and he usually didn’t care about their feelings. But Don meant something to him and he didn’t want to ruin it.

Don gave him a soft smile. “It’s fine. I forgave as soon as I walked away.”

“I still want to give you this even if you forgave me.” Ian then put his hand in the bag, trying to find the little box. “I did pay a lot of money for this. It would be rude to refuse it.”

Don let out a snort of laughter. “Alright, where is it then?”

Ian pulled it out and showed the box to Don. As soon as he did, Don couldn’t help but quip out, “are you going to pop the question to me? Because I’m not sure our relationship has reached that level yet.”

Ian laughed, even if the question stung a little. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Their relationship hadn’t reached the final part, the part that Ian wanted. Ian had always wanted Don since they first met but he was never able to tell him. It was one of the few things in his life that he was unsure of what to do. So, he hoped that with this gift, it could be the foundation used to grow their relationship a little bit more. A dip into the waters so to speak. “Nah…it’s something better.”

Intrigued, Don reached out and opened the box, gasping at what was inside. “Ian…this is beautiful” he muttered as he took it out, his eyes wide as he held it gently. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that I’m the best gift giver and we’re even” he grinned. Don’s face lit up as he threw his head back, laughing brightly. The orange hues of the setting sun shine over him, giving him a warm glow. Like the sun had made a spotlight for its favourite human. Ian couldn’t help but be enchanted by the sight.

And if anyone later asked Ian whether or not he thought that Don’s eyes turned into the same molten honey as the crystal on his charm under the sunset, Ian would completely deny them an answer and throw them out the window on the spot for daring to ask him that.

Ian smiled at the memory, seeing the charm dangling from the notebook. It looked like it was clearly well taken care of which didn’t surprise him. Don was known to be careful, especially with his gifts. One look at his neat desk with its odd knick knacks, things that no one would expect someone like him to have, would be enough to show everyone who noticed how much Don treasured the people in his life. Ian was honestly honoured that he was included in that list as well.

Ian decided to step out of the shadows and walked towards the leader of the violent crimes squad. “You writing a report, Eppes?” he asked cheekily.

Don let out an involuntary yelp before he jumped, sitting straight up. His book shoved closely to his chest. Ian only had a glimpse of the word ‘Journey’ before it was slammed closed. “Holy- stop scaring me like that!” Don half shouted, shooting Ian a dirty glare.

“What can I say? You give me the best reactions” he replied, grinning. He won’t mention the fact that Don also gives him the most endearing reactions. He didn’t think that would fly over well with the man, not now at least. “So…what’s that?”

“Nothing important” Don said quickly, shuffling stuff on his desk around. He handed Ian a case file. “Here, thanks for coming so quickly, we need your expertise again.”

“Seems like we’ve been doing this a lot recently” Ian commented, grinning. “Are you sure you need me or do you just miss me?”

Don rolled his eyes, “in your dreams Edgerton” he muttered, smiling back. Ian leaned on the divider of his desk, eager to start on the case with Don.

This should be interesting

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As per usual, he was right.

Their case did take a turn for the unexpected. But it wasn’t something that both him and Don couldn’t deal with. With Ian’s expertise and Don’s tactics along with their collective observations, they were able to bring the case to a quick close.

“Whew!” Ian huffed out, stretching. “I don’t know about you but I’m tired.”

Don rolled his arm in a circle, clearly tired as well. “Me too,” he groaned. Ian could feel Don’s gaze on him as he started to pack his stuff, ready to take a break at his hotel room. “Hey Ian, are you busy after this?”

“No, why?”

Don scratched the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly at him. “Well…my dad kinda went on a cooking spree last night and gave me way more food than I anticipated. So I was wondering whether or not you’d like to help me deplete the supply a little bit, at least until everything fits into the fridge.”

Ian raised an eyebrow at that. He didn’t really expect to get invited into Don’s house. But, who was he to say no? Especially to an opportunity like this. “Sure, I’m always curious to see what your dad’s cooking is like.”

“It’s definitely one of the best around” Don replied before dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Although between you and me, sometimes your food can be better” he grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Good to know,” he said, mirroring Don’s grin. He slung his bag over his shoulder and then wrapped his arm around Don’s shoulder, careful to keep his touch casual. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Don laughed brightly, momentarily blinding Ian before reaching out to grab his bag. “Alright, let’s go” he said and they both left the office.

The trip to Don’s apartment was quite uneventful. A part of Ian couldn’t help but start to wonder what Don’s own residence was like, especially considering the fact that the man doesn’t go back that often.  Was it bare bones? Only a storage for his items?

As they pulled up to his apartment, Ian wasn’t surprised to find that the exterior was unremarkable. It was a basic grey apartment building, nothing more, nothing less. When he stepped inside though, he was a little more interested.

Don’s room was a modest size. It had a bedroom, a guest room, a living room, and a kitchen with a dining table. All of the colours were kept to a minimum with the whites, blacks, and greys. What interested Ian though was all of the random stuff that lined the shelves. Pictures that ranged from childhood to recently, baseball paraphernalia, some odd knick knacks that Ian recognized as being something from Charlie’s office, and various other things that made the place more homey.

“Alright, feel free to roam around anywhere you like. Make yourself at him,” Don said after he returned from putting his bag in his bedroom. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Ian couldn’t help but think, you might regret that soon. Because if there was one thing that anyone should know about him is that he liked to snoop sometimes. Finding out secret information is almost like a game to him nowadays. Let’s see what I can find…

He went from room to room, inspecting the shelves but came up empty. A lot of the drawers came up empty as well since most of them had mundane things on it. Although, there was a drawer that was filled with sheet music, piano and guitar if his guess was correct. Never knew Don was a musical guy he thought, filing that information for later use.

The last room in the place that he hasn’t inspected yet was Don’s room. Any other person would have their reservations about walking into someone’s private quarters like that. But Ian wasn’t any other person. Plus, he had the okay from Don to explore wherever he wanted. So if Don wanted his room to be off limits, he should’ve said that. It was an easy excuse.

He walked towards the door and slowly opened it, peeking inside. While the lights weren’t on, the windows were still open so daylight was able to shine through, illuminating the room with a natural glow.

Don’s room was pretty modest and unassuming, but elegant in its own way. Kind of like the man himself if he could be honest. There was a large bed in the middle of the room, bedside desks on both sides with a lamp on one. A surprisingly bright and colourful knitted quilt lay on top of the pristine white bed sheets, the only bright pop of colour in the otherwise simple room. Ian could see another door to his left, probably to the bathroom. And to his right, a large closet that held Don’s clothes.

He turned around to close the door when he froze, looking to his right in shock. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but right next to the door were four large bookshelves, standing even taller than Don’s closet. They were formed into the shape of an ‘L’, covering the right corner of the room, separated by a window. Probably so that Don could get some natural light. In the middle of that was a comfortable looking seat with a table, its surface littered with paper, pens, pencils, highlighters, markers, sticky notes, and…brush pens? This is new, he thought as he observed the pen in his hand. Ian would’ve never thought that Don was the type to enjoy writing calligraphy. But then again, he has seen Don’s handwriting so he probably should’ve at least seen this as a possibility.

He put the pen back in favour of observing the shelves. The one farthest from the door was filled with books that Ian would expect someone like Don to read. Psychology books, books on police protocol, even some forensic books had littered the first few shelves. Looking down though, Ian didn’t expect to see that the other half of the shelf was filled with history books. Books on the history of ancient Greece, the hieroglyphs from ancient Egypt, the old Mayan temples and traditions, and so on and so forth. Huh…who knew Don Eppes was a secret history nerd? Ian thought, amused at the clearly well loved books. He reached out to see one of them and was taken aback at what he saw.

He didn’t expect to see the book completely littered with Don’s scribbles. Looking closely, he smiled when he saw what exactly Don was writing down. Some of these writings contained Don’s thoughts on the matter, others were key words to complex meanings, and lastly, there were lots of citations written on the bottom. Clearly Don had done his own research and cited more sources to back up the information that he sees is most credible. He put the book back to where it was and pulled another one out, unsurprised at the fact that it was also filled with Don’s neat handwriting. Ian had a feeling that all of these books had been read and well looked into.

Ian turned to the bookshelf next to it, even more interested than the last one. Mostly because this bookshelf only had binders, the titles of the books that Don had were written on the spine. He reached out to pull one of them out, not expecting to get any more surprises.

Well, it seems like he was on a streak when it came to being wrong today.

Ian, who had the book open in hand, was completely taken aback at what he saw. Inside were pages and pages of bright and colourful notes. Highlighters, different coloured pens, colourful calligraphy as the titles, sticky notes, everything was there. The book contained even more of Don’s observations, speculations, and research citations. But not only that, it also contained the simplified cliff notes as well, practical information that could be useful for their line of work. Don had also written down how the information could be used, translated into their everyday life. Ian couldn’t help but be impressed at the depth of knowledge and understanding that Don employed in these notes, all of them meticulously written down. Ian could see Don’s thought process on these notes, agreeing with his line of thinking and even filing away some information for later. These notebooks were a clear inside look into the mind of Don Eppes, a mind that Ian was starting to find even more endearing the more he looked through.

Putting the notebook back in, he took out one of the history ones. Again, he found himself amazed at all the notes that Don had written down. This time, there were more citations and observations than practical, everyday information. He even wrote down the methodology on how some of the artifacts were unearthed and how they were dated in little colourful boxes on the pages, surrounded by more information. Don had clearly made an effort to make all his notes eye-catching and easy to digest and Ian was glad to say that it paid off. Even with the brief lookover that he had, he retained more information from these notebooks than he ever did during his university or even during his Quantico days. It also didn’t help that along with Don’s thoughts, a lot of Don’s sass also bled into the pages. Don was always able to trade blows with Ian, but he could also tell that Don was reserved when it came to his comebacks. So to see that Don was being open and unashamed when it comes to his opinions was refreshing. He wondered whether or not he could coax more of Don’s sarcastic internal dialogue out of him.

He put the book back on the shelf to look at the last two bookshelves that were next to the door. While he expected to see more history or even some sociology or economy books, he didn’t expect to find it filled from top to bottom with literature.

Ian ran his hands over the spines in fascination. While he wasn’t surprised to see those psychology books and the thought of Don reading history wasn’t something too out of character for him, these literature books were something he would never expect. Popular titles like The Art of War, Crime and Punishment, Hamlet, Macbeth, The Odyssey, and countless others lined the shelves. Not only that, there were quite a few titles that Ian’s never heard of before like The Confessions of Lady Nijo and the Genji Monogatari, both of which were probably foreign literature if the titles were anything to go by. Opening one of them up, more scribbles filled his view. This time though, they were only filled with Don’s thoughts and observations. Words like “You’re fucking serious?” and “How is this not illegal?” were written along with lines like “look into textile dyes of the Tang dynasty” or “find out the government system and laws of old Russia.” Ian couldn’t help but be intrigued at what the notes for these books would be like.

Turning to the shelf next to this, he pulled one of the binders out. If he thought Don was a nerd earlier, this certainly solidified it.

Pages and pages of a story’s backstory along with background information were written on the pages. For Don’s notes on the book Crime and Punishment, almost a quarter of it was used to explain the government system of Russia at the time. Don had written a long but concise analysis, speculating on how the police would’ve investigated the case given the technology they had at the time along with the information that they were given. On the notes for an unfamiliar Chinese literature book, Ian remembered that Don had underlined the word textile. Well, it turns out that Don had written about a ten page spread about ins and outs of ancient Chinese tailoring, laying out in detail on how they were made and what dyes that they would’ve used given their resources. And in one of the notes on a piece of Japanese literature, Don had even written down some of the lines that were originally in Japanese, writing down how the localization works in translating the emotions from the characters. Ian opened notebook after notebook, marveling at its contents along with the sheer amount of information that has been compacted into it. Although, he couldn’t help but silently laugh at one of Don’s lines where he wrote: And once again, the consequences of Zeus’s actions comes barreling towards his face because he couldn’t keep his dick dry for ONE fucking second. Don’s irritation was so clear he could almost hear the man say it.

He should really let loose a bit more Ian thought, amused. If it got us lines like this, I don’t think I’ll ever get bored on the job again.

A few of the books along with their respective notebooks now lay on the table as he compared what’s written on each other. Honestly, he didn’t even care if Don walked in on him doing this anymore. He was having the time of his life, completely enchanted by what he was reading. Being able to take a glimpse into Don’s inner workings and internal dialogue was a gift that keeps on giving. Hell! He even filed off some of these insults for later, amused at its creativity.

He looked back to pull another notebook from the shelf when he realized that one of them was even bigger than the others. This one had the words Journey to the West written on it. Looking around, he found its respective book, and realized that this was only part one of a few. Jesus…Don’s committed. Opening it up, both up, he once again found himself amused at Don’s thoughts. While the notes on his notebook were insightful and intelligent, the notes on the book itself were mostly along the lines of “Monkey was indeed back on his bullshit again”, “Tripataka get your shit together or so help me the demons would be the least of your worries”, “If Monkey doesn’t make roast pork out of Pigsy by the end of this story, I’ll be surprised”, and hilariously: “I swear to god this has to be someone’s undisguised fetish.” That one earned a chuckle out of him.

But as he read along, he also noticed something else. When Don was complaining about how long the trip is when they could just make Monkey fly to their destination, there was a small number written next to it. Ian had seen the same format pop up in a lot of the scribbles on the books and he wondered what it was. This time, the number was accompanied with a star. Looking down on the bottom of the page was a neat scribble that said page 30 of leather notebook.

Ian was instantly taken back to when he saw Don that day, a thick leather notebook in hand. I’m guessing that’s the one. He didn’t find it when he was snooping around so he figured that it was somewhere in here. Looking over the chair, he saw Don’s work bag, completely opened. There, snuggled in between his laptop and files, was a leather notebook. Ian had no qualms reaching into it and taking it out, eager to look inside. Come to think of it, he’s never really been this excited before.

I guess Don does bring out something in people that they never expected to have.

He opened it up, expecting it to be more notes and or observations. He didn’t expect, however, to be met with pages upon pages of beautifully written essays.

Unlike the other notebooks where all information on the book is contained into one binder, this journal contained an amalgamation of information from different books. The book itself was divided into two sections. One was labeled Notes which contained even more information. Information that Ian felt was the most interesting to Don, ones that he can put into his personal journal to carry around. But it was the other one labeled Analysis that interested him. Behind that were long form essays ranging from the from his observations on the fact that Journey to the West was an allegory for enlightenment, how perspectives changes the way we see people and their questionable actions by comparing and contrasting how two different literatures from the same place was written, to drawing parallels on a piece of literature to the internal workings of cult reform and cult recruitment activity. All of these essays were even cleaner than his notes and far more beautifully written, almost like poetry. Ian knew that Don had a way with words. From seeing him interact with other people to reading his reports, the man could spin a narrative even better than how a weaver could spin tapestry. The way he told stories was both exciting but also concise. Every piece of information laid out in a way that didn’t sound boring but in fact, sounded like it was meant to be there. Looking at these notes however, he never realized the extent of Don’s abilities when it came to writing. Clearly the reports were a waste of his skills if these essays were anything to go by.

The more he looked, the more entranced he became. While the other notes showed off Don’s intelligence, depth of knowledge, and his humour, these ones also showed his true feelings. Each and every essay had clear passion behind them, along with a few hints of his inner emotions. Ian was always good at reading between the lines and these notes were a fountain of them. Ian could tell when Don was feeling happy, amused, annoyed, or disappointed. Every aspect of Don’s personality popped up, ranging from Don Eppes the charismatic leader to Don Eppes, the tired older brother of a genius who just wanted someone to look at him for who he is. Well you don’t have to wish for that anymore because I’m certainly looking now he thought.

Looking around, he couldn’t help but smile at the little corner that Don made for himself. This little sanctuary, a safe haven where Don could be what he wanted to be, without the expectations of others pushed on him. He could almost imagine what Don would look like whenever he was here. His body bent over the desk, papers and pens spread across, the lamp desk being the only source of light. Intense eyes boring into the pages, trying to absorb every single aspect of the text, jotting down his observations or thoughts that he would file for later. Laptop next to him, tens of tabs opened, all for the purpose of looking deeper into the hidden context or background of the story. His tongue poking instinctively from between his soft lips, his head tilted to the side as he tried to understand what was written, tapping his pen to a melody that only he could hear. Or he could be tapping said pen on his plush bottom lip as he pouted in concentration, periodically moving to nibble on the tip of the pen or his lip as he came across an unexpected paragraph that needed more brainpower to understand. All before his eyes lit up in triumph as he understood what was going on, eagerly writing everything down with a bright smile on his face.

Ian let out a low chuckle at the possibility, finding the image to be far more cuter than anything else he’s ever seen.

Ian never expected to get this deep into Don’s mind when he accepted the man’s invitation but he was certainly glad he did. All of these notes laid in front of him held a piece of Don’s soul in a way, allowing Ian to take a look. He started to appreciate the man’s intelligence even more now, getting more annoyed at the thought of people thinking he was the “dumb” brother just because he wasn’t as smart as Charlie. Clearly from the looks of these notes, Don was definitely so much more than what other people gave him credit for and Ian couldn’t wait and see what the man held in store for the future.

“Ian! I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes, where the hell are- SHIT!” Don shouted as he snatched the leather notebook away from Ian, his face now a deep shade of crimson as he tried to cover his face with it.

Ian just shook his head in fond amusement, smiling at the frankly cute sight in front of him. “Didn’t know you were a secret nerd, Eppes” he said.

Don let out a few unflattering insults underneath his breath, some Ian recognizes as being written on his books. “You shouldn’t look into other people’s stuff…what if it’s a personal diary or something?”

“Then I get my suspicions corrected,” he replied. “But this…” he gestured to the shelves, “this is so much bigger than a measly diary entry.”

Don moved to cover the literature shelf with his body. But considering the size of them compared to himself, his attempts were unsuccessful. “This?” He said, his voice rose an octave before he coughed, forcing it back to normal. “This is nothing” he let out an awkward laugh, “I uh…I found these at an auction and decided to buy them!”

Ian laughed at Don’s poor attempts to redirect his attention. “Really Eppes? Is that the best lie you could think of?”

Don’s shoulders slumped as he gave Ian a defeated pout. God…I want to kiss him, Ian thought.

“Well you step in my shoes and tell me how you would fare” he complained.

“Maybe next time pretty boy” Ian shot back, staring in fascination as Don’s face flushed even more at that. Huh…looks like I might have a chance…

He went to grab one of the open notebooks, putting an arm out so he could brace himself against the shelf, leaning on top of Don. “So…what’s all this?”

Don sighed as he also leaned against the bookshelf, his own leather notebook held close to him. Ian couldn’t help but think that this position was reminiscent of those you’d see in highschool dramas where the big confident jock would try and seduce the nerd who wouldn’t take his bullshit. As cheesy as the comparison is, Ian can’t help but think it had some level of accuracy for them.

“I took a minor in history back in college along with a few classes on literature for fun.” Don looked down as he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, his cheeks still dusted pink. “I never expected to enjoy it the way I did,” he mumbled. The soft, almost shy tone he had here was vastly different from anything Ian’s ever heard from him.

Ian let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Well I think this is impressive.”

Don’s eyes almost lit up at the praise. “You’re serious?” Ian couldn’t help but feel bad for him. It must be so nice to have someone finally see you for who you are instead of seeing you through a lens they made themselves.

“Yeah, all of this takes a lot of hard work and dedication. I’m genuinely impressed at the information you managed to cram in here.”

“Ah well…it’s nothing really” Don replied sheepishly. “I kinda got interested in a subject, looked it up, and accidentally fell into like ten different rabbit holes at once before I decided to do this.”

Ian blinked for a second before laughing again, completely amused. Of course Don would go overboard with his research, the man didn’t do anything by halves. Just like Ian.

“Who knew you were secretly an adorable nerd underneath all that tough FBI exterior?”

“ADORABLE?!” Don almost shrieked, his tone bordering between embarrassed and incredulous.

Ian gave him a full feral grin. “Yep! You’re definitely the most adorable little nerd I’ve come across” he teased, lightly pinching Don’s cheek. He couldn’t help but marvel at how soft Don’s skin was, definitely softer than he could’ve ever imagined.

And trust him, he did a lot of imagining.

Don swatted his hand away, looking annoyed. “Will you stop messing with me?” He sighed. “I swear…it feels like you have some sort of odd sense of satisfaction from teasing me.”

Ian couldn’t help but stare at him for a second. Throughout this conversation, he’s sure he’s been laying it on pretty thick. But it seems like Don’s skull was denser than he first thought. Looking over at the books behind them, an idea formed in his mind.

“Well, you always give the cutest reactions,” Ian said. But before Don could protest again, Ian cupped the charm in his hand, grinning at him. “Case in point, you kept this little gift from me. You even hung it on your favourite journal.”

The pink blush made its appearance once again, dusting Don’s pale cheeks as he tried to look away. “How can I not? It’s a very beautiful gift” he muttered.

Ian chuckled. “Did you know that this charm has a meaning to it?”

Don looked at him, eyes wide with interest. Of course, hook the literature nerd with symbolism Ian thought, amused. "No, I didn't."

“Apparently, the lady said that this charm symbolizes a protector. The sword means bravery, their ability to take up arms in order to defend the innocent. And the wings, they’re a phoenix’s wings, symbolizing their ability to come back after each failure stronger than ever, their determination even stronger than death itself.” Ian watched fondly as Don stared at the charm in interest, the wheels of observation in his head visibly turning.

“That’s incredible…” Don whispered, entranced.

“Sounds like a certain someone I know…”

Don looked up in confusion, tilting his head to the side. “Who?”

Ian rolled his eyes before giving Don’s nose a light boop. “It’s you dumbass. I was talking about you.”

Don flailed his hand at the touch. “Yeesh! You don’t have to be so mean about it…”

"If it can get it through your thick skull then I'm not changing it." Ian then ran a finger over the charm, marveling at its beauty. "I guess after that event, I just wanted to give you something to think about, a physical reason for you to still be around…"

Don visibly softened at that. "Ian…"

"But now, this also symbolizes another thing to me."

"What is it?" Don's tone was inquisitive now.

"This charm symbolizes you as a person. A brave, selfless, stubborn idiot who doesn't know when to quit. Whose determination could probably outlive death if given the chance. To me, this charm is in a way, an extension of you." Ian looked up to see that Don was staring at him with rapt attention, gazing at him like he would with any piece of information. "And because this is an extension of you…" he leaned down, brought the charm up and placed a gentle kiss on it.

Looking up, he could see that Don was giving him a wide eyed stare. His cheeks were now a light and gentle shade of pink, making him look more delicate under the orange light of the setting sun. "Oh…" he mumbled, looking surprised.

Ian got up again, this time smiling softly. "Although…I'm still hoping that I could do it to the person it's about." Looking over to the window in between the shelves, he could see that the sun was setting, just like how it was at the fair. He leaned in closer, their foreheads were just a hair breath away. "So, Don Eppes…would you let me have the real you?" He asked as he gently tilted Don's face upwards, coaxing the man to look at him.

Don's face lit up with the brightest smile Ian's ever seen, his face illuminated by the soft orange glow. "Always…" he said as Ian mirrored his smile, leaning in closer for a kiss.

Ian would never admit that he thought that Don's eyes now mirrored the charm, the same molten honey colour as they both glowed under the light of the sunset. But he was willing to admit, even if only to himself, that the following kiss was definitely sweeter than any honey he's ever tasted and that their journey here was better than any epic that existed.