Ficcy Ahoy
Title: Waking Up Is Hard to Do...
Author: raingoddess2040
Fandom: CSI: NY
Characters: Don Flack Jr., Sheldon Hawkes
Pairing: Flack/Hawkes
Rating: FRM
Warning: slash, angst, H/C
Spoiler: Raising Shane, Charge of This Post
Disclaimer: If I owned CSI: NY, Sheldon would be a pimp and the team would be his hoes. That is precisely why I don't own them.
A/N: Song is 'Better That We Break' by Maroon 5 off of their album It Won't Be Soon Before Long
~@#$#@~
It's happened before, times where he can't sleep, not because the nightmares will come, not because he's an insomniac. There are just times when he simply cannot, will not and mostly likely should not go to sleep because he doesn't think he'll wake up in the morning.
He doesn't have some morbid thoughts that someone will kill him in the night or that he'll end up suffocating in his sleep. He doesn't have sleep apnea (He's already been checked out several times, by different doctors.). He doesn't sleep simply because there are nights now as there have been before, where he's stopped breathing and almost passed away. These nights are the same as the ones after his mother's death, the night's after his father's death, the nights after his lover's almost-too-real-and-yet-still-unimaginable death. On these nights he floats away and his heart slows down and he dreams of his mother's sweet serenade, "Loving you/is easy 'cause you're beautiful..." and of his father's gentle (bari)tones, "This is the way the world ends/this is the way the world ends/this is the way the world ends/not with a bang, but a whimper."
He lies awake at night, focusing on his breathing, the soft inhalation of in and out. He keeps his eyes open, taking caffeine pills and drinking coffee. Mac isn't the only caffeine addict around.
It's on night's like these where he traces his lover's chest just to feel the scar that wouldn't be there if he were dead, the scar that he wouldn't be able to touch if he was still locked away for a murder he didn't - couldn't, wouldn't - commit. It's on nights like these where he empathizes with some of the criminals he's helped lock away because there are some (only a few) that, if this world were (mine) fair, wouldn't have felt the had to do what they did. It's on nights like these where he hates that he's the way he is because it's on nights like these that he knows that if he were normal, he wouldn't feel this way. Or not. He doesn't know. There are so (too) many variables in the equation that is answered with Sheldon Hawkes that he thinks that he will never understand himself.
It's also on nights like this where his lover wakes up, takes his hands away from his scar and pulls him close, trying to keep the demons at bay. It's on nights like this where his lover will wake find him standing, staring at the dawn and simply press yet more coffee into his hands. It's on nights like this that his lover will lay awake with him saying nothing, because silence is more than welcome after all the noise in his head.
It's after many nights like these that his lover simply looks at him with a sad look in his eyes and presses kisses to his brow (like he's a child) and whispers his name (like a benediction - since when did he believe in God?).
"Sheldon? Please go to sleep. I can't - I can't take it anymore. I'm so scared for you. Please try. I can't lose you. I won't," his lover says as if gods care for the whims of mortal men.
"You know I can't. You know I try and you know that you won't. Not ever," he says, knowing that he'd sell his soul just to fulfill that request (but he isn't sure if there's enough of it left to even make a down payment).
"In some ways I think I have. At least come lay with me. Your heartbeat's soothing."
He hears those words and somehow they make it through the tangled web of his mind and into the place in his chest where he's sure his heart is. He goes to lay on the bed and let's his lover lay on his chest.
He wakes the next mornig, clawing at the sheets, screaming and in pain. His lover holds him long after the shudders leave his body.
"I'm so sorry, babe. i didn't think that it would be so bad. I'm so sorry, Shel. Please forgive me. I just thought that maybe you should get some rest. I didn't think that it was so bad for you, baby. I'm so sorry -"
He cuts his lover of with a kiss and with inspiration born of the benign turns on the radio.
'. . . Waking up is hard to do/And sleeping is impossible, too/Everything is reminding me of you...'
Sheldon turned of the radio and looked at Don and whispered something so frail it was almost lost in the wind.
"I'm glad that I'm waking up to you..."
- Fin -
A/N #2: I couldn't leave it angsty because I love them too much.
Author: raingoddess2040
Fandom: CSI: NY
Characters: Don Flack Jr., Sheldon Hawkes
Pairing: Flack/Hawkes
Rating: FRM
Warning: slash, angst, H/C
Spoiler: Raising Shane, Charge of This Post
Disclaimer: If I owned CSI: NY, Sheldon would be a pimp and the team would be his hoes. That is precisely why I don't own them.
A/N: Song is 'Better That We Break' by Maroon 5 off of their album It Won't Be Soon Before Long
~@#$#@~
It's happened before, times where he can't sleep, not because the nightmares will come, not because he's an insomniac. There are just times when he simply cannot, will not and mostly likely should not go to sleep because he doesn't think he'll wake up in the morning.
He doesn't have some morbid thoughts that someone will kill him in the night or that he'll end up suffocating in his sleep. He doesn't have sleep apnea (He's already been checked out several times, by different doctors.). He doesn't sleep simply because there are nights now as there have been before, where he's stopped breathing and almost passed away. These nights are the same as the ones after his mother's death, the night's after his father's death, the nights after his lover's almost-too-real-and-yet-still-unimaginable death. On these nights he floats away and his heart slows down and he dreams of his mother's sweet serenade, "Loving you/is easy 'cause you're beautiful..." and of his father's gentle (bari)tones, "This is the way the world ends/this is the way the world ends/this is the way the world ends/not with a bang, but a whimper."
He lies awake at night, focusing on his breathing, the soft inhalation of in and out. He keeps his eyes open, taking caffeine pills and drinking coffee. Mac isn't the only caffeine addict around.
It's on night's like these where he traces his lover's chest just to feel the scar that wouldn't be there if he were dead, the scar that he wouldn't be able to touch if he was still locked away for a murder he didn't - couldn't, wouldn't - commit. It's on nights like these where he empathizes with some of the criminals he's helped lock away because there are some (only a few) that, if this world were (mine) fair, wouldn't have felt the had to do what they did. It's on nights like these where he hates that he's the way he is because it's on nights like these that he knows that if he were normal, he wouldn't feel this way. Or not. He doesn't know. There are so (too) many variables in the equation that is answered with Sheldon Hawkes that he thinks that he will never understand himself.
It's also on nights like this where his lover wakes up, takes his hands away from his scar and pulls him close, trying to keep the demons at bay. It's on nights like this where his lover will wake find him standing, staring at the dawn and simply press yet more coffee into his hands. It's on nights like this that his lover will lay awake with him saying nothing, because silence is more than welcome after all the noise in his head.
It's after many nights like these that his lover simply looks at him with a sad look in his eyes and presses kisses to his brow (like he's a child) and whispers his name (like a benediction - since when did he believe in God?).
"Sheldon? Please go to sleep. I can't - I can't take it anymore. I'm so scared for you. Please try. I can't lose you. I won't," his lover says as if gods care for the whims of mortal men.
"You know I can't. You know I try and you know that you won't. Not ever," he says, knowing that he'd sell his soul just to fulfill that request (but he isn't sure if there's enough of it left to even make a down payment).
"In some ways I think I have. At least come lay with me. Your heartbeat's soothing."
He hears those words and somehow they make it through the tangled web of his mind and into the place in his chest where he's sure his heart is. He goes to lay on the bed and let's his lover lay on his chest.
He wakes the next mornig, clawing at the sheets, screaming and in pain. His lover holds him long after the shudders leave his body.
"I'm so sorry, babe. i didn't think that it would be so bad. I'm so sorry, Shel. Please forgive me. I just thought that maybe you should get some rest. I didn't think that it was so bad for you, baby. I'm so sorry -"
He cuts his lover of with a kiss and with inspiration born of the benign turns on the radio.
'. . . Waking up is hard to do/And sleeping is impossible, too/Everything is reminding me of you...'
Sheldon turned of the radio and looked at Don and whispered something so frail it was almost lost in the wind.
"I'm glad that I'm waking up to you..."
- Fin -
A/N #2: I couldn't leave it angsty because I love them too much.