Numb3rs fic: Quake (1/1, PG-13, slash)
Title: Quake
Author: cerealkiller0
Rating: PG-13
Genre: slash
Pairing: Don/Ian
Challenge: Bunny-a-thon at numb3rs100 for the prompt: Don and Ian, both physically hurt and trying to survive.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Don is an FBI agent. He tracks down leads in all the wrong places. Ian is a sniper that occassionally trails after.
Warnings: A little language, a little blood.
Word count: 2 x 300
A/N: Also can be found at n100.
Summary: Don and Ian get trapped in a basement.
Pain. Don knew pain. Unceasing, unbearable pain. He put his hand to his head and made contact with slick, warm liquid. Red. He couldn't see it in the dark, but he knew it would be red. The red hurt.
There was also noise. Buzzing. No. Barking? That wasn't right either. Don strained. The noise got louder. It was too loud. Don shook his head slightly in protest causing the pain in his head to skyrocket. He moaned loudly. The noise became more frantic. Wait. Not noise.
"Don? Don?! I swear to God if you don't wake up, I'm gonna-" Words. Not noise. A voice.
Don struggled for a moment, trying to make his mouth move. "Noise. Loud. Stop? Hurts..."
"Don? There was a quake. The goddamn house collapsed!" Ian's voice was loud and agitated. "How bad are you hurt?"
House. What house? They didn't live in a house. Or did they? Don vaguely recalled a hallway. A door with shiny gold numbers. Home. No, there was a house. Chalk and ribeye. Wait. That wasn't right either. Desks. Computers. Bad coffee.
"Not home."
"What? Don?! Stop rambling. We're in a collapsed house, babe. I need you to pull it together. You were unconscious for - fuck - at least twenty minutes. I think you're trapped." Ian's voice came again. He sounded panicked. Edgey, even. Edger-ton. Don giggled.
"Don! Snap out of it! You've got to get moving and find a way out. You need to get out before this whole place crashes down on us!"
A house falling on them. Ridiculous. Houses didn't fall on people. Well, they did in Oz, but Don was fairly certain he wasn't there. Besides, he wasn't a witch.
"Move! Now!!"
An angry voice now. Was Ian the wizard? Don didn't care. He needed a nap.
***
A migraine. Like Don hadn't experienced since college. He didn't want to open his eyes. Light would make it worse. If he kept his eyes shut, it might go away. The darkness was good.
The racket was not.
"Ian! Knock it off, I've got a migraine!" Don shouted and shifted, trying to get comfortable on the bed. Something poked him. A rock? His eyes snapped open. Pitch blackness greeted him. Cold concrete and debris beneath him. Not bed. The suspect's house. The basement. The earthquake.
Don sat up slowly, groaning. Creaking. He could hear creaking. The noise hadn't been Ian at all, but the house itself.
"Ian?" Don called out tentatively. "Ian, where are you?"
A distinctive groan reached him. "Awake again, sleeping beauty?"
"Huh?"
"Never... never mind." A cough.
Don tried to move around, lost in the dark, and fought panic when his hands met solid surfaces in every direction. "I'm trapped!"
"Got--Got to find a way out." Ian breathed. "Can't... stay."
Don's eyes narrowed at Ian’s struggle to speak. "Are you okay? Where are you?"
"Right...ah. Right next to you."
"Ian! Are closed in too?" Don demanded.
"No."
"Are you hurt?"
"I… I'm stuck." Ian admitted
“How stuck?”
Silence.
“Ian!” Don shouted.
“Pinned. C-can’t feel my legs.”
Don gasped. The house creaked.
“Don. You’ve got to go. Find a way to get yourself out. This place is caving and I--”
“Shut up Ian.” Don cut in. “We’re both getting out. I’ll get to you. I’m gonna-”
The house creaked violently again, effectively cutting Don off. He waited. Nothing fell.
Ian’s voice was hesitant. “Don?”
“Don’t.” Don warned.
“Whatever happens, I love you. Okay?”
“Dammit Ian! I said don’t!” Don snarled, shoving the wall futilely. The creaking started again. Don heard a crash. Pain.
The world fled.
Author: cerealkiller0
Rating: PG-13
Genre: slash
Pairing: Don/Ian
Challenge: Bunny-a-thon at numb3rs100 for the prompt: Don and Ian, both physically hurt and trying to survive.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Spoilers: Don is an FBI agent. He tracks down leads in all the wrong places. Ian is a sniper that occassionally trails after.
Warnings: A little language, a little blood.
Word count: 2 x 300
A/N: Also can be found at n100.
Summary: Don and Ian get trapped in a basement.
Pain. Don knew pain. Unceasing, unbearable pain. He put his hand to his head and made contact with slick, warm liquid. Red. He couldn't see it in the dark, but he knew it would be red. The red hurt.
There was also noise. Buzzing. No. Barking? That wasn't right either. Don strained. The noise got louder. It was too loud. Don shook his head slightly in protest causing the pain in his head to skyrocket. He moaned loudly. The noise became more frantic. Wait. Not noise.
"Don? Don?! I swear to God if you don't wake up, I'm gonna-" Words. Not noise. A voice.
Don struggled for a moment, trying to make his mouth move. "Noise. Loud. Stop? Hurts..."
"Don? There was a quake. The goddamn house collapsed!" Ian's voice was loud and agitated. "How bad are you hurt?"
House. What house? They didn't live in a house. Or did they? Don vaguely recalled a hallway. A door with shiny gold numbers. Home. No, there was a house. Chalk and ribeye. Wait. That wasn't right either. Desks. Computers. Bad coffee.
"Not home."
"What? Don?! Stop rambling. We're in a collapsed house, babe. I need you to pull it together. You were unconscious for - fuck - at least twenty minutes. I think you're trapped." Ian's voice came again. He sounded panicked. Edgey, even. Edger-ton. Don giggled.
"Don! Snap out of it! You've got to get moving and find a way out. You need to get out before this whole place crashes down on us!"
A house falling on them. Ridiculous. Houses didn't fall on people. Well, they did in Oz, but Don was fairly certain he wasn't there. Besides, he wasn't a witch.
"Move! Now!!"
An angry voice now. Was Ian the wizard? Don didn't care. He needed a nap.
***
A migraine. Like Don hadn't experienced since college. He didn't want to open his eyes. Light would make it worse. If he kept his eyes shut, it might go away. The darkness was good.
The racket was not.
"Ian! Knock it off, I've got a migraine!" Don shouted and shifted, trying to get comfortable on the bed. Something poked him. A rock? His eyes snapped open. Pitch blackness greeted him. Cold concrete and debris beneath him. Not bed. The suspect's house. The basement. The earthquake.
Don sat up slowly, groaning. Creaking. He could hear creaking. The noise hadn't been Ian at all, but the house itself.
"Ian?" Don called out tentatively. "Ian, where are you?"
A distinctive groan reached him. "Awake again, sleeping beauty?"
"Huh?"
"Never... never mind." A cough.
Don tried to move around, lost in the dark, and fought panic when his hands met solid surfaces in every direction. "I'm trapped!"
"Got--Got to find a way out." Ian breathed. "Can't... stay."
Don's eyes narrowed at Ian’s struggle to speak. "Are you okay? Where are you?"
"Right...ah. Right next to you."
"Ian! Are closed in too?" Don demanded.
"No."
"Are you hurt?"
"I… I'm stuck." Ian admitted
“How stuck?”
Silence.
“Ian!” Don shouted.
“Pinned. C-can’t feel my legs.”
Don gasped. The house creaked.
“Don. You’ve got to go. Find a way to get yourself out. This place is caving and I--”
“Shut up Ian.” Don cut in. “We’re both getting out. I’ll get to you. I’m gonna-”
The house creaked violently again, effectively cutting Don off. He waited. Nothing fell.
Ian’s voice was hesitant. “Don?”
“Don’t.” Don warned.
“Whatever happens, I love you. Okay?”
“Dammit Ian! I said don’t!” Don snarled, shoving the wall futilely. The creaking started again. Don heard a crash. Pain.
The world fled.