Fic: Before He Sleeps (The Mentalist, Cho/OFC)
So I was on tumblr (same name, friend me peoples!) and going through the Kimball Cho tag (because I love Cho, and while I prefer LJ/DW as a platform, the one thing I think tumblr has an advantage on is the tag system and how you can track what people are posting about any given subject. As long as people use it right but since that leads into a Warehouse 13 fandom rant I think I'll keep my counsel on that.)
Anyway, that bracket got long, so paragraph break. On the Cho tag, there was this post which inspired this fic! although with a few differences which will be clear at the end of the fic!
Title: Before He Sleeps
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: The Mentalist
Pairing: Cho/OFC
Rating : G
Word Count : 767
Spoilers: for the second to last ep of season 6 which I've not yet seen.
Summary: Cho arrives home and is too tired to sleep.
Notes: see end. Also for my cotton candy bingo wild card square.
It's late when Cho arrives home and he's as tired as he's been in quite a while, and that includes some of the training days at Quantico - back then, he'd never thought he'd look back on running the Yellow Brick Road with something akin to fond nostalgia. Then again, a few years before that, he'd never thought he'd find himself thinking back to the days of the CBI task force with fond nostalgia either, and in the middle of the worst days at Quantico, he'd found himself doing just that.
Life, Cho has learned, has a way of surprising you.
He locks the door behind him, slides home the deadbolt and turns to the desk beside the door. His keys go into the bowl on top while his sidearm and badge are locked securely in the drawer. His jacket gets flung onto the back of the couch, his tie following immediately after before he turns to trudge into the kitchen.
He's tired, but almost too tired to sleep so he goes to the fridge, finds some leftover chicken from last night's dinner, makes himself a quick sandwich. He washes it down with a glass of milk, considers warming it to help him sleep before remembering he's done that before and not only does it not help but he actually finds warm milk disgusting.
Behind him, there's the click of a light switch and he turns towards the sound, blinking at the bright light coming down the hallway. A few seconds later, his wife enters the room, long brown curls askew in several different directions, rubbing her chest with one hand.
"You're home." She sounds surprised, if sleepy, and he stands to go over to her.
"A few minutes ago. I tried to be quiet..."
She looks at him, narrows her eyes as they move from his face to the table, the half eaten sandwich and glass of milk. Frown deepening, she touches the glass, face clearing a little when her fingers find it cool to the touch. "Well, it's not warm, so whatever's bugging you must be only a five or so..." She tilts her head. "What's happened?"
Cho sighs, pulls out a chair for her. "Lisbon's transferring to DC," he says simply and it's all she needs to hear to have her lips pursing in sympathy.
"That sucks," she says. "I know how much you enjoyed working with her again."
"It is what it is." Cho attempts to give a shrug but his heart's not really in it. Besides, she knows him too well for that.
"Don't try to bullshit me, Kimball," she tells him, but she's smiling when she does it, like she expected this from him. Her hand closes over his, warm and firm and he turns his palm over, laces their fingers together.
"Did I wake you?" he asks, although her gesture when she'd entered the kitchen had given him a clue.
"Heartburn," is all she says, rubbing her chest again. "There's no antacid in the bathroom, I thought we might have some here..." She stops talking as he stands up. "Where are you going?"
"I have some in my jacket," he says, retrieving them and handing them to her.
"Why?" She draws out the word but it doesn't stop her grabbing the box out of his hand, an almost comical look of relief on her face.
"I have half a dozen boxes in my desk drawer," Cho tells her. "Another in the glove box of the car. And always one in my jacket." He shrugs, then reaches out and lays a hand on her stomach. The baby instantly gives an almighty kick and he can't help the grin that spreads across his face.
"Sure, you can laugh..." she grouses, her hand resting on top of his. There's another kick and she half laughs, half winces. "I think that one left a bruise."
"Eight more weeks," Cho reminds her and she laughs.
"Then the fun really begins."
"Yeah," says Cho as he leans in to kiss her. "And I can't wait."
Anyway, that bracket got long, so paragraph break. On the Cho tag, there was this post which inspired this fic! although with a few differences which will be clear at the end of the fic!
Title: Before He Sleeps
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: The Mentalist
Pairing: Cho/OFC
Rating : G
Word Count : 767
Spoilers: for the second to last ep of season 6 which I've not yet seen.
Summary: Cho arrives home and is too tired to sleep.
Notes: see end. Also for my cotton candy bingo wild card square.
It's late when Cho arrives home and he's as tired as he's been in quite a while, and that includes some of the training days at Quantico - back then, he'd never thought he'd look back on running the Yellow Brick Road with something akin to fond nostalgia. Then again, a few years before that, he'd never thought he'd find himself thinking back to the days of the CBI task force with fond nostalgia either, and in the middle of the worst days at Quantico, he'd found himself doing just that.
Life, Cho has learned, has a way of surprising you.
He locks the door behind him, slides home the deadbolt and turns to the desk beside the door. His keys go into the bowl on top while his sidearm and badge are locked securely in the drawer. His jacket gets flung onto the back of the couch, his tie following immediately after before he turns to trudge into the kitchen.
He's tired, but almost too tired to sleep so he goes to the fridge, finds some leftover chicken from last night's dinner, makes himself a quick sandwich. He washes it down with a glass of milk, considers warming it to help him sleep before remembering he's done that before and not only does it not help but he actually finds warm milk disgusting.
Behind him, there's the click of a light switch and he turns towards the sound, blinking at the bright light coming down the hallway. A few seconds later, his wife enters the room, long brown curls askew in several different directions, rubbing her chest with one hand.
"You're home." She sounds surprised, if sleepy, and he stands to go over to her.
"A few minutes ago. I tried to be quiet..."
She looks at him, narrows her eyes as they move from his face to the table, the half eaten sandwich and glass of milk. Frown deepening, she touches the glass, face clearing a little when her fingers find it cool to the touch. "Well, it's not warm, so whatever's bugging you must be only a five or so..." She tilts her head. "What's happened?"
Cho sighs, pulls out a chair for her. "Lisbon's transferring to DC," he says simply and it's all she needs to hear to have her lips pursing in sympathy.
"That sucks," she says. "I know how much you enjoyed working with her again."
"It is what it is." Cho attempts to give a shrug but his heart's not really in it. Besides, she knows him too well for that.
"Don't try to bullshit me, Kimball," she tells him, but she's smiling when she does it, like she expected this from him. Her hand closes over his, warm and firm and he turns his palm over, laces their fingers together.
"Did I wake you?" he asks, although her gesture when she'd entered the kitchen had given him a clue.
"Heartburn," is all she says, rubbing her chest again. "There's no antacid in the bathroom, I thought we might have some here..." She stops talking as he stands up. "Where are you going?"
"I have some in my jacket," he says, retrieving them and handing them to her.
"Why?" She draws out the word but it doesn't stop her grabbing the box out of his hand, an almost comical look of relief on her face.
"I have half a dozen boxes in my desk drawer," Cho tells her. "Another in the glove box of the car. And always one in my jacket." He shrugs, then reaches out and lays a hand on her stomach. The baby instantly gives an almighty kick and he can't help the grin that spreads across his face.
"Sure, you can laugh..." she grouses, her hand resting on top of his. There's another kick and she half laughs, half winces. "I think that one left a bruise."
"Eight more weeks," Cho reminds her and she laughs.
"Then the fun really begins."
"Yeah," says Cho as he leans in to kiss her. "And I can't wait."