Coming Around
Title: Coming Around
Author: ladygray99
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Don, Alan, Charlie
Word count: 1,705
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Charlie's been sick all day and has finally managed to crawl out of bed.
Notes: Written for devon99 for her donation to Queensland Flood Relief. This takes place a bit after Charlie bought the house.
Beta: swingandswirl and karaokegal except for some bits I rewrote just a minute ago.
Coming Around
For
Devon99
Alan was setting the brisket down on the table while Don was laying out the silverware when Alan heard soft slow thumping steps coming down the stairs. Don rushed to the bottom of the steps and put an arm around Charlie. Alan dimmed the lights.
Don helped Charlie to the dinner table and brushed away a bit of hair that had plastered itself to Charlie's forehead. “How ya doing, buddy?” Don asked softly.
Charlie groaned a bit and laid his head on the table.
“So, better then?”
Charlie managed to nod. He still looked pale and thick dark rings had formed under his eyes.
“Are you up for eating something?” Alan asked.
Charlie looked at the brisket then gave a small nod before closing his eyes again.
“Let me get you some water first.”
Alan slipped back into the kitchen. The migraine had taken them all by surprise. Charlie hadn't had one since before Margaret got sick and he hadn't had one of the full body completely crippling ones that plagued his childhood in years.
He had assumed that Charlie had finally grown out of them the way the doctors said he might. That was until seven in the morning when he'd awoken to Charlie retching in his waste basket from the pain with a t-shirt tied around his head to block out the light and noise.
Alan found a bottle of long expired migraine pills collecting dust in the back of the medicine cabinet. It hadn't been ideal but it was all he had. Luckily, Charlie passed out a couple of hours after that and had been out most of the day.
Don had gotten Charlie sitting up and Alan handed him the water. Charlie pressed the cool glass to his face and neck first before taking a couple of sips.
“Shit,” Charlie breathed. “Anyone get the plate numbers on that bus that hit me?”
Don chuckled. “Sorry, I think it was a hit and run.”
Charlie closed his eyes again and carefully sipped at the water as if he didn't trust it to stay where he put it.
“Any idea what set it off? I mean it's been years, hasn't it?”
“No clue. My alarm went off, I sat up, and the migraine fairy put an ice pick through my left temple, just like old times.”
Don rubbed little circles on Charlie's back. “Maybe you should make a doctor's appointment for tomorrow? Get a fresh prescription if you're going to be doing this again.”
“I better not be doing this again. It was fine when I was 8 but I have a job and a half now and I don't have enough sick time to be down with a headache three days a week.”
“Worry about it tomorrow, Charlie. Donnie, could you help me get the rest of dinner on the table?”
Don followed Alan into the kitchen and grabbed the bowls that were waiting on the counter. There was one that already had a mix of green peas and boiled carrot pieces. Alan had made it up special. When Charlie was ten he'd been vegetarian for nearly a year because after one of his particularly bad headaches, for reasons no one could quite work out, his stomach refused to take anything but fruit and boiled vegetables for at least two days. Unfortunately by the time his stomach settled, he was almost always getting hit by a fresh headache.
Don placed the bowl in front of his brother.
“Boiled peas? Really, Dad?”
“Did you want brisket?”
Charlie opened his mouth then quickly slapped a hand over it and squeezed his eyes shut. His body shuddered and he swallowed hard several times. It was a strange and slightly horrible thing for Alan to see after so many years. The last time he'd seen Charlie have that reaction, he'd still been a little boy. Charlie finally dropped his hand and opened his eyes again.
“That's what I thought. Eat your peas.”
“This is why I'm short, you know?” Charlie said as he tried to scoop up a fork full of peas. “I was forced to live off rabbit food during primary growth years.
Alan sat down and started to slice the brisket for himself and Donnie. “No one forced you and you know it. We fed you what you could keep down.”
Charlie grumbled a little, but ate some more of the peas. It actually might have been a large part of why Charlie was the shortest in the family. By the time the migraines started decreasing in frequency enough for him to eat regularly, Charlie had visible ribs and his pediatrician was getting more and more concerned about his weight.
“So,” Charlie mumbled. “What did I miss today?”
“Nothing.” Don replied too quickly.
Charlie sat up a bit. “What kind of nothing? That didn't sound like a nothing nothing.”
“It was nothing.” Don repeated. “Plain, ordinary, boring day at the FBI.”
Charlie flicked a pea across the table and hit Don in the face. “Liar.”
Don picked up the same pea from where it landed on the table and flicked it back towards Charlie.
“Don't play with your food you two.”
“You know, all I have to do is check the daily reports the next time I'm in the office.”
Don let out a long sigh. “We had an ugly non-custodial kidnapping come up.”
“What!” Charlie snapped. “And you didn't call me? You know I've been working on some new search algorithms for just these kinds of things. I could have...”
“I did call you, Charlie. Dad picked up your cell and I could hear you puking your guts out in the background. I even stopped by. You were out so cold I took your pulse just to make sure you were still alive. Besides, we didn't need you in the end. We put out an Amber alert and had the kid home by three.”
Charlie pinched his lips and pushed his peas around. “I still could have helped,” he muttered.
“There will be other times, buddy.”
Alan looked back and forth, between his two boys. There was something about the exchange that felt so familiar that it could have easily been about calculating Don's baseball stats.
Charlie was still pushing his food around when he looked up at Alan. “What about you, Dad? Do anything exciting while I was playing dead?”
“Aside from worry about you? The city heritage trust came around today to make sure the new owner, you, hadn't knocked out any walls or panted the place orange.
Charlie put his face into his hand. “That was today.”
“Yes, that was today. I showed them around and explained the situation and they left a bunch of paperwork for you to read. They also want to know if you'd be interested in putting the house on their annual architecture tour.”
Don laughed. “And here is the living room with its original Craftsman furniture, note the stained glass. Here is the kitchen with its semi-modernization, and here is the garage with its hyperactive mathematician, please don't touch the blood splattered crime scene photos.”
Charlie flicked another pea at Don’s face. “At least I have a house for you to make fun of.”
“You only bought it because you couldn't handle the idea of actually sorting through all your own stuff to move.”
“Half the boxes in the garage are still labeled 'Don's stuff'. Feel free to sort those out any time you like.”
Alan knew that wasn't likely to happen since it was mostly Donnie's baseball stuff. That was stuff that he was never going to throw out but probably still didn't want to look at too closely.
Don just mumbled a bit and sipped at his beer.
“So, tell me about the case I missed out on.”
“Careful buddy, you're going to turn into a crime junkie.”
“Come on Don. I've spent the day sick.”
Don shrugged. “There actually wasn't much too it. A judge's sleazy ex tried to make off with a nine year old during a supervised visit. The whole thing got caught on camera and frankly the kid didn't make it easy for him. 'Mommy changed her mind' is a line that might work on a toddler, but by nine most kids aren't going to by it. We put out an Amber alert and someone called in a good tip. We caught him trying to make a run for the border..”
“Okay.”
“So, see. Nothing we couldn't handle. After all, we did solve cases on our own once upon a time.”
“I know. I just sort of like kidnapping cases.”
Alan half choked on a bite of brisket. “You like kidnapping cases?”
“Well they're better than murders. Murders, someone's already dead. Not much you can do for them. I'm not saying kidnappings are good things but they usually at least start out with the victim still being alive and if you're having a good day you can keep them that way.”
Alan felt a little horrified that his youngest son had a preference as to type of crime. He looked to Donnie for some kind of explanation.
Don shrugged. “I prefer hostage situations myself. Same reason. Usually everyone starts out alive, but you're not running all over town trying to find them. You just get SWAT in place, the snipers in position and hope whatever negotiator they give you is on their game. Good day everyone comes out alive and you're home by dinner.”
Charlie nodded in agreement.
“You know I remember when dinner conversation in this house was about politics, or at least baseball.”
“Did you see the last Dodgers game, Dad?” Don asked.
Alan wilted a little. “Yes. So. Where do you two stand on bank robberies?”
Charlie perked up. “Now bank robberies can yield some fascinating math when you start looking at the patterns involved.”
“I don't know Chuck. I think you’ve got to look at more than just patterns when you're talking bank jobs.”
“Well there are a lot of factors involved of course.”
Alan just shook his head as Don and Charlie discussed the finer details of bank heists and decided that it was at least a good thing that his boys were talking.
Author: ladygray99
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Don, Alan, Charlie
Word count: 1,705
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Charlie's been sick all day and has finally managed to crawl out of bed.
Notes: Written for devon99 for her donation to Queensland Flood Relief. This takes place a bit after Charlie bought the house.
Beta: swingandswirl and karaokegal except for some bits I rewrote just a minute ago.
Coming Around
For
Devon99
Alan was setting the brisket down on the table while Don was laying out the silverware when Alan heard soft slow thumping steps coming down the stairs. Don rushed to the bottom of the steps and put an arm around Charlie. Alan dimmed the lights.
Don helped Charlie to the dinner table and brushed away a bit of hair that had plastered itself to Charlie's forehead. “How ya doing, buddy?” Don asked softly.
Charlie groaned a bit and laid his head on the table.
“So, better then?”
Charlie managed to nod. He still looked pale and thick dark rings had formed under his eyes.
“Are you up for eating something?” Alan asked.
Charlie looked at the brisket then gave a small nod before closing his eyes again.
“Let me get you some water first.”
Alan slipped back into the kitchen. The migraine had taken them all by surprise. Charlie hadn't had one since before Margaret got sick and he hadn't had one of the full body completely crippling ones that plagued his childhood in years.
He had assumed that Charlie had finally grown out of them the way the doctors said he might. That was until seven in the morning when he'd awoken to Charlie retching in his waste basket from the pain with a t-shirt tied around his head to block out the light and noise.
Alan found a bottle of long expired migraine pills collecting dust in the back of the medicine cabinet. It hadn't been ideal but it was all he had. Luckily, Charlie passed out a couple of hours after that and had been out most of the day.
Don had gotten Charlie sitting up and Alan handed him the water. Charlie pressed the cool glass to his face and neck first before taking a couple of sips.
“Shit,” Charlie breathed. “Anyone get the plate numbers on that bus that hit me?”
Don chuckled. “Sorry, I think it was a hit and run.”
Charlie closed his eyes again and carefully sipped at the water as if he didn't trust it to stay where he put it.
“Any idea what set it off? I mean it's been years, hasn't it?”
“No clue. My alarm went off, I sat up, and the migraine fairy put an ice pick through my left temple, just like old times.”
Don rubbed little circles on Charlie's back. “Maybe you should make a doctor's appointment for tomorrow? Get a fresh prescription if you're going to be doing this again.”
“I better not be doing this again. It was fine when I was 8 but I have a job and a half now and I don't have enough sick time to be down with a headache three days a week.”
“Worry about it tomorrow, Charlie. Donnie, could you help me get the rest of dinner on the table?”
Don followed Alan into the kitchen and grabbed the bowls that were waiting on the counter. There was one that already had a mix of green peas and boiled carrot pieces. Alan had made it up special. When Charlie was ten he'd been vegetarian for nearly a year because after one of his particularly bad headaches, for reasons no one could quite work out, his stomach refused to take anything but fruit and boiled vegetables for at least two days. Unfortunately by the time his stomach settled, he was almost always getting hit by a fresh headache.
Don placed the bowl in front of his brother.
“Boiled peas? Really, Dad?”
“Did you want brisket?”
Charlie opened his mouth then quickly slapped a hand over it and squeezed his eyes shut. His body shuddered and he swallowed hard several times. It was a strange and slightly horrible thing for Alan to see after so many years. The last time he'd seen Charlie have that reaction, he'd still been a little boy. Charlie finally dropped his hand and opened his eyes again.
“That's what I thought. Eat your peas.”
“This is why I'm short, you know?” Charlie said as he tried to scoop up a fork full of peas. “I was forced to live off rabbit food during primary growth years.
Alan sat down and started to slice the brisket for himself and Donnie. “No one forced you and you know it. We fed you what you could keep down.”
Charlie grumbled a little, but ate some more of the peas. It actually might have been a large part of why Charlie was the shortest in the family. By the time the migraines started decreasing in frequency enough for him to eat regularly, Charlie had visible ribs and his pediatrician was getting more and more concerned about his weight.
“So,” Charlie mumbled. “What did I miss today?”
“Nothing.” Don replied too quickly.
Charlie sat up a bit. “What kind of nothing? That didn't sound like a nothing nothing.”
“It was nothing.” Don repeated. “Plain, ordinary, boring day at the FBI.”
Charlie flicked a pea across the table and hit Don in the face. “Liar.”
Don picked up the same pea from where it landed on the table and flicked it back towards Charlie.
“Don't play with your food you two.”
“You know, all I have to do is check the daily reports the next time I'm in the office.”
Don let out a long sigh. “We had an ugly non-custodial kidnapping come up.”
“What!” Charlie snapped. “And you didn't call me? You know I've been working on some new search algorithms for just these kinds of things. I could have...”
“I did call you, Charlie. Dad picked up your cell and I could hear you puking your guts out in the background. I even stopped by. You were out so cold I took your pulse just to make sure you were still alive. Besides, we didn't need you in the end. We put out an Amber alert and had the kid home by three.”
Charlie pinched his lips and pushed his peas around. “I still could have helped,” he muttered.
“There will be other times, buddy.”
Alan looked back and forth, between his two boys. There was something about the exchange that felt so familiar that it could have easily been about calculating Don's baseball stats.
Charlie was still pushing his food around when he looked up at Alan. “What about you, Dad? Do anything exciting while I was playing dead?”
“Aside from worry about you? The city heritage trust came around today to make sure the new owner, you, hadn't knocked out any walls or panted the place orange.
Charlie put his face into his hand. “That was today.”
“Yes, that was today. I showed them around and explained the situation and they left a bunch of paperwork for you to read. They also want to know if you'd be interested in putting the house on their annual architecture tour.”
Don laughed. “And here is the living room with its original Craftsman furniture, note the stained glass. Here is the kitchen with its semi-modernization, and here is the garage with its hyperactive mathematician, please don't touch the blood splattered crime scene photos.”
Charlie flicked another pea at Don’s face. “At least I have a house for you to make fun of.”
“You only bought it because you couldn't handle the idea of actually sorting through all your own stuff to move.”
“Half the boxes in the garage are still labeled 'Don's stuff'. Feel free to sort those out any time you like.”
Alan knew that wasn't likely to happen since it was mostly Donnie's baseball stuff. That was stuff that he was never going to throw out but probably still didn't want to look at too closely.
Don just mumbled a bit and sipped at his beer.
“So, tell me about the case I missed out on.”
“Careful buddy, you're going to turn into a crime junkie.”
“Come on Don. I've spent the day sick.”
Don shrugged. “There actually wasn't much too it. A judge's sleazy ex tried to make off with a nine year old during a supervised visit. The whole thing got caught on camera and frankly the kid didn't make it easy for him. 'Mommy changed her mind' is a line that might work on a toddler, but by nine most kids aren't going to by it. We put out an Amber alert and someone called in a good tip. We caught him trying to make a run for the border..”
“Okay.”
“So, see. Nothing we couldn't handle. After all, we did solve cases on our own once upon a time.”
“I know. I just sort of like kidnapping cases.”
Alan half choked on a bite of brisket. “You like kidnapping cases?”
“Well they're better than murders. Murders, someone's already dead. Not much you can do for them. I'm not saying kidnappings are good things but they usually at least start out with the victim still being alive and if you're having a good day you can keep them that way.”
Alan felt a little horrified that his youngest son had a preference as to type of crime. He looked to Donnie for some kind of explanation.
Don shrugged. “I prefer hostage situations myself. Same reason. Usually everyone starts out alive, but you're not running all over town trying to find them. You just get SWAT in place, the snipers in position and hope whatever negotiator they give you is on their game. Good day everyone comes out alive and you're home by dinner.”
Charlie nodded in agreement.
“You know I remember when dinner conversation in this house was about politics, or at least baseball.”
“Did you see the last Dodgers game, Dad?” Don asked.
Alan wilted a little. “Yes. So. Where do you two stand on bank robberies?”
Charlie perked up. “Now bank robberies can yield some fascinating math when you start looking at the patterns involved.”
“I don't know Chuck. I think you’ve got to look at more than just patterns when you're talking bank jobs.”
“Well there are a lot of factors involved of course.”
Alan just shook his head as Don and Charlie discussed the finer details of bank heists and decided that it was at least a good thing that his boys were talking.