W is for Workaholics
Author: Jelsemium
Pairing/Characters: Charlie/Amita
Rating: G
Word Count: 954
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters
Chapter One:
Blackboards were cruel and deceptive. You started out with a huge blank space that mocked your ability to fill it. Then it challenged you to find a place to begin.
But once the ideas started flowing and expressions began to string together and make sense and you were hot on the trail of a significant breakthrough... you ran out of room.
Amita Ramanujan snarled to her self, erased a couple of the lines she just put up so she could rewrite them in smaller handwriting. That gave her almost enough room to finish her train of thought.
She stepped back and looked around her cramped little office and almost stepped on Charlie's foot. She frowned at him. "Paper," she said.
Charlie handed her a notebook that was open to a blank page and a freshly sharpened pencil.
"Thanks," Amita said absently. She sat down at her desk and began to scribble the rest of her expression into the notebook.
She broke two pencils in her haste, but that didn't slow her down as there was a nice pile of new, sharp Ticonderoga #2 pencils sitting on her desk, right next to the take out bag from Pie'n'Burger.
Amita finally came to the end of her inspiration and sat back, rubbing the cramp out of her hand. She looked up at the board, and then flipped through her notebook. It all looked good. At lunch, she would ask Charlie if he would have time this week to recheck her figures.
Speaking of lunch, Charlie should be here in... Amita looked at the clock. "Six hours ago?" she asked herself. "It can't possibly be that early... that late?" she looked out the window at the setting sun. "Oh, crap."
The takeout bag from Pie'n'Burger finally registered and she had vague memories of Charlie being here earlier. He must have recognized that she was possessed by her muse and had just left her to it.
There was a note on the bag. "Let me know if I can help in any way - C".
Amita peeked into her bag and decided that the sandwich could wait until tomorrow. Right now, she had to get over to Charlie's and apologize. It didn't matter if he understood her negligence. It had been rude of her.
Chapter Two
There was something wrong with this algorithm. Charlie could feel it, but he just couldn't spot it. He stared at the blackboard, nose almost rubbing off the chalk as if proximity would make things clear.
Then he paced around the garage, carefully stepping over or around the obstacles... the basket of laundry, the table with his laptop, the air hockey table, Amita's legs, the pile of newspapers to take to the recyclers, a bag of empty bottles destined for the same place...
He stopped and stared at the board from across the room. He suddenly remembered a trick that his mother had taught him about checking for errors in his English homework. He began to read aloud from the board.
Suddenly, his tongue tripped on one expression. No, that didn't read right. that was where the error was! Triumphantly, Charlie erased that section and the parts that followed it. They couldn't be right because...
Amita's legs?
Charlie blinked and turned around, hoping that the rest of Amita had come as well.
Amita sat on the couch and beamed at him. "Good work!" she said. "I would never have thought of the reading aloud trick!"
Charlie felt a blush coming on. "I'm sorry, Amita," he said. "I didn't notice... um... How did you get in?"
Amita laughed. "You let me in," she said.
"Oh," Charlie said. His face must have been cherry red by now.
"I came to apologize for being so distracted when you came to take me to lunch yesterday," Amita continued.
Charlie waved the apology away. "It's not like I haven't done the same thing. I could see you were onto something..." He stopped in mid-thought. "Wait? Yesterday?" Charlie looked at his watch. It was almost 1 AM. "Oh," was all he could think of to say.
"I brought some takeout from Bhurkha of India. It's keeping warm in the oven," Amita said.
"Thanks," Charlie replied. He suddenly realized how hungry he was. He held out his arm for Amita and they strolled into the kitchen.
"You know," Amita said as she plated the food. "We are almost too much alike."
Charlie laughed as he set the table. "Tell me about it."
"We're both workaholics," Amita said. "We're both able to completely lose track of the outside world." She shook her head. "Maybe we're just fooling ourselves about having a relationship."
Charlie carried a bottle of wine and two glasses to the dining room table. "I think that we need to try," he said quietly. "I'd hate to lose this opportunity, well, actually, I'd hate to lose you, just because I'm too craven to act."
Amita watched him pour the wine into her glass. "I'd hate to lose you," she said. "But I'd hate to start something we can't handle." She accepted the glass and sighed. "You do realize that between the two of us, we have the social graces of a two year old."
Charlie made a wry face as he poured himself some wine.
"It will take a lot of work to make this work," Amita said, as much to herself and to Charlie.
Charlie grinned. "Maybe that's an advantage for us workaholics."
Amita laughed and reached across the table to touch her glass to Charlie's. "Works for me," she said
Pairing/Characters: Charlie/Amita
Rating: G
Word Count: 954
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters
Chapter One:
Blackboards were cruel and deceptive. You started out with a huge blank space that mocked your ability to fill it. Then it challenged you to find a place to begin.
But once the ideas started flowing and expressions began to string together and make sense and you were hot on the trail of a significant breakthrough... you ran out of room.
Amita Ramanujan snarled to her self, erased a couple of the lines she just put up so she could rewrite them in smaller handwriting. That gave her almost enough room to finish her train of thought.
She stepped back and looked around her cramped little office and almost stepped on Charlie's foot. She frowned at him. "Paper," she said.
Charlie handed her a notebook that was open to a blank page and a freshly sharpened pencil.
"Thanks," Amita said absently. She sat down at her desk and began to scribble the rest of her expression into the notebook.
She broke two pencils in her haste, but that didn't slow her down as there was a nice pile of new, sharp Ticonderoga #2 pencils sitting on her desk, right next to the take out bag from Pie'n'Burger.
Amita finally came to the end of her inspiration and sat back, rubbing the cramp out of her hand. She looked up at the board, and then flipped through her notebook. It all looked good. At lunch, she would ask Charlie if he would have time this week to recheck her figures.
Speaking of lunch, Charlie should be here in... Amita looked at the clock. "Six hours ago?" she asked herself. "It can't possibly be that early... that late?" she looked out the window at the setting sun. "Oh, crap."
The takeout bag from Pie'n'Burger finally registered and she had vague memories of Charlie being here earlier. He must have recognized that she was possessed by her muse and had just left her to it.
There was a note on the bag. "Let me know if I can help in any way - C".
Amita peeked into her bag and decided that the sandwich could wait until tomorrow. Right now, she had to get over to Charlie's and apologize. It didn't matter if he understood her negligence. It had been rude of her.
Chapter Two
There was something wrong with this algorithm. Charlie could feel it, but he just couldn't spot it. He stared at the blackboard, nose almost rubbing off the chalk as if proximity would make things clear.
Then he paced around the garage, carefully stepping over or around the obstacles... the basket of laundry, the table with his laptop, the air hockey table, Amita's legs, the pile of newspapers to take to the recyclers, a bag of empty bottles destined for the same place...
He stopped and stared at the board from across the room. He suddenly remembered a trick that his mother had taught him about checking for errors in his English homework. He began to read aloud from the board.
Suddenly, his tongue tripped on one expression. No, that didn't read right. that was where the error was! Triumphantly, Charlie erased that section and the parts that followed it. They couldn't be right because...
Amita's legs?
Charlie blinked and turned around, hoping that the rest of Amita had come as well.
Amita sat on the couch and beamed at him. "Good work!" she said. "I would never have thought of the reading aloud trick!"
Charlie felt a blush coming on. "I'm sorry, Amita," he said. "I didn't notice... um... How did you get in?"
Amita laughed. "You let me in," she said.
"Oh," Charlie said. His face must have been cherry red by now.
"I came to apologize for being so distracted when you came to take me to lunch yesterday," Amita continued.
Charlie waved the apology away. "It's not like I haven't done the same thing. I could see you were onto something..." He stopped in mid-thought. "Wait? Yesterday?" Charlie looked at his watch. It was almost 1 AM. "Oh," was all he could think of to say.
"I brought some takeout from Bhurkha of India. It's keeping warm in the oven," Amita said.
"Thanks," Charlie replied. He suddenly realized how hungry he was. He held out his arm for Amita and they strolled into the kitchen.
"You know," Amita said as she plated the food. "We are almost too much alike."
Charlie laughed as he set the table. "Tell me about it."
"We're both workaholics," Amita said. "We're both able to completely lose track of the outside world." She shook her head. "Maybe we're just fooling ourselves about having a relationship."
Charlie carried a bottle of wine and two glasses to the dining room table. "I think that we need to try," he said quietly. "I'd hate to lose this opportunity, well, actually, I'd hate to lose you, just because I'm too craven to act."
Amita watched him pour the wine into her glass. "I'd hate to lose you," she said. "But I'd hate to start something we can't handle." She accepted the glass and sighed. "You do realize that between the two of us, we have the social graces of a two year old."
Charlie made a wry face as he poured himself some wine.
"It will take a lot of work to make this work," Amita said, as much to herself and to Charlie.
Charlie grinned. "Maybe that's an advantage for us workaholics."
Amita laughed and reached across the table to touch her glass to Charlie's. "Works for me," she said