Num3rs ficlet: "Moments in Paint" (part of the 'Dutiful' universe)
.
Title: Moments in Paint.
(part of the Dutiful universe)
Author: Keenir.
Beta: none.
Pairings/Characters: Val, Don, Alan, Charlie,
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Some things change less than others, and there are aspects which change least of all...as the paint proves.
Spoilers: Soft Target, various moments alluded to in series 2.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters.
Notes: this may or may not be ongoing....it hit me tonight, and gave me no idea if its complete or not.
Warnings: none, actually.
Previously, in the series: My best course of action may be to give the house to Val and Don. They’ve got more need for it than I do - certainly I don’t want Val hunched -over in Don’s cramped apartment; she deserves better. --Charlie; Calculate the thought.
my Val muse says her Don has trouble making grilled-cheese sandwiches.
.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
All objects move through both time and space. This is a fact we process without always being aware of it - how else would it be, after all? But this means we may use analogies to describe events, again, nothing novel in itself.
Drip, drip, drip. Scattered spheres of paint, separated by time and space, yet sharing a single direction.
~
"They're going to paint...?" Charlie asked.
"You do remember giving them the house, don't you?" Alan asked.
"I do," Charlie confirmed. "I just thought..."
"Married people paint. You think your mother and I just left this house as we bought it?"
"Actually, yeah."
Alan shuddered. "When we moved in, Charlie, the walls were chartrouse, coral, and tapioca."
"Oh," Charlie said in a small voice. Then, "Maybe Larry and Amita can help me construct something that'll determine the best color for those walls that need to change."
"Oh speaking of which, how are you and Amita doing? You had a date the other day, didn't you?"
~
"I like it," Don said.
"You're sure?" Val asked.
"Absolutely."
"I can mix the paints and have them ready for you to take to the checkout in a few minutes," the store employee said.
"Great," Don said.
"If you don't like it -" Val started to say.
"I didn't say that," Don said, just as his phone rang.
"We'll be back another day," Val mouthed to the employee, who nodded.
~
After a case like that, one pushing as many buttons as it had - Nazis, family, deception and misrepresentation - Don had taken the day off.
"You're sure about this?" Alan asked.
Don nodded. "I need to do it." Nobody'll laugh - Charlie because he doesn't care one way or the other, and everyone else because either it won't register, or they'll understand.
"And you want me to help?"
"Yeah, dad, I'm on record - will you help me do this?"
"Just try and stop me."
~
that evening...
Having led her up the stairs to this point, Don took his hands away from Val's eyes. He didn't think 'ta-da' covered things this important.
Val's mouth was open, shaping no words; Don still thought it was gorgeous.
The nursery door was a shade of red which went very well with the unpainted hallway walls. The inside of the nursery, Val saw when she opened the door and stepped inside, was the same shade..
The only bright red was a vertical line down the top half of the door and each of the room's walls, easily distinguishable from the rest of the red. Even a mathematician would have said it fufilled the function of symmetry.
"I love it," Val said honestly.
"But?" Don asked.
Not liking the idea of upsetting Don when he was so proud of having accomplished all this -- and yet remembering her mother telling her that the worst thing she could do, is lie to her husband, "You finished without me," was all Val could say, and she sounded disappointed because she was - in her mind, this would have been a great bonding activity.
"I did save some paint," Don said, and ducked to the closet, pulling out a small can of paint (leaving the lid in the closet) and dabbing the tip of the brush along the surface of the paint when he was back within arm's-reach of Val...he started to reach it in the direction of her nose, when -
"DON!" Charlie hollered barely half a second after opening the front door. "I think I know where they're heading!"
The brush-holding hand fell to his side, Don leaned against Val, drawing strength from her. "I know where I was heading a moment ago," Don whispered into Val's hair. I know I asked Chuck to ring the doorbell when he comes over - my bad, I should've asked Amita.
Val chuckled. "Rain check," she promised.
~
Val came home from work one day, and found Don standing between that door and the dining room table. At a glance, she could see the distinctive plastic shapes that tended to hold liquids in a carry-out order. "Mian or Pho?" Val asked. Unless that take-out spot's expanded their menu again.
"Pho," Don said. "There's also mac&cheese in the fridge, if you'd prefer that."
"What would you prefer?" Val asked, curious.
The music was soft and quiet, dinner easily re-microwavable.
"Dance?" Don asked, one hand extended to her.
As much a man of many words as ever, Val thought with a smile as she accepted, being drawn into his embrace.
Don let her lead (this song was one of her favorites). Left her pager clipped to her jeans, his cellphone clipped to his belt.
~
The difference between paint and people, is, as human beings, we may chose how we land.
.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
The End
Title: Moments in Paint.
(part of the Dutiful universe)
Author: Keenir.
Beta: none.
Pairings/Characters: Val, Don, Alan, Charlie,
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Some things change less than others, and there are aspects which change least of all...as the paint proves.
Spoilers: Soft Target, various moments alluded to in series 2.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters.
Notes: this may or may not be ongoing....it hit me tonight, and gave me no idea if its complete or not.
Warnings: none, actually.
Previously, in the series: My best course of action may be to give the house to Val and Don. They’ve got more need for it than I do - certainly I don’t want Val hunched -over in Don’s cramped apartment; she deserves better. --Charlie; Calculate the thought.
my Val muse says her Don has trouble making grilled-cheese sandwiches.
.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
All objects move through both time and space. This is a fact we process without always being aware of it - how else would it be, after all? But this means we may use analogies to describe events, again, nothing novel in itself.
Drip, drip, drip. Scattered spheres of paint, separated by time and space, yet sharing a single direction.
~
"They're going to paint...?" Charlie asked.
"You do remember giving them the house, don't you?" Alan asked.
"I do," Charlie confirmed. "I just thought..."
"Married people paint. You think your mother and I just left this house as we bought it?"
"Actually, yeah."
Alan shuddered. "When we moved in, Charlie, the walls were chartrouse, coral, and tapioca."
"Oh," Charlie said in a small voice. Then, "Maybe Larry and Amita can help me construct something that'll determine the best color for those walls that need to change."
"Oh speaking of which, how are you and Amita doing? You had a date the other day, didn't you?"
~
"I like it," Don said.
"You're sure?" Val asked.
"Absolutely."
"I can mix the paints and have them ready for you to take to the checkout in a few minutes," the store employee said.
"Great," Don said.
"If you don't like it -" Val started to say.
"I didn't say that," Don said, just as his phone rang.
"We'll be back another day," Val mouthed to the employee, who nodded.
~
After a case like that, one pushing as many buttons as it had - Nazis, family, deception and misrepresentation - Don had taken the day off.
"You're sure about this?" Alan asked.
Don nodded. "I need to do it." Nobody'll laugh - Charlie because he doesn't care one way or the other, and everyone else because either it won't register, or they'll understand.
"And you want me to help?"
"Yeah, dad, I'm on record - will you help me do this?"
"Just try and stop me."
~
that evening...
Having led her up the stairs to this point, Don took his hands away from Val's eyes. He didn't think 'ta-da' covered things this important.
Val's mouth was open, shaping no words; Don still thought it was gorgeous.
The nursery door was a shade of red which went very well with the unpainted hallway walls. The inside of the nursery, Val saw when she opened the door and stepped inside, was the same shade..
The only bright red was a vertical line down the top half of the door and each of the room's walls, easily distinguishable from the rest of the red. Even a mathematician would have said it fufilled the function of symmetry.
"I love it," Val said honestly.
"But?" Don asked.
Not liking the idea of upsetting Don when he was so proud of having accomplished all this -- and yet remembering her mother telling her that the worst thing she could do, is lie to her husband, "You finished without me," was all Val could say, and she sounded disappointed because she was - in her mind, this would have been a great bonding activity.
"I did save some paint," Don said, and ducked to the closet, pulling out a small can of paint (leaving the lid in the closet) and dabbing the tip of the brush along the surface of the paint when he was back within arm's-reach of Val...he started to reach it in the direction of her nose, when -
"DON!" Charlie hollered barely half a second after opening the front door. "I think I know where they're heading!"
The brush-holding hand fell to his side, Don leaned against Val, drawing strength from her. "I know where I was heading a moment ago," Don whispered into Val's hair. I know I asked Chuck to ring the doorbell when he comes over - my bad, I should've asked Amita.
Val chuckled. "Rain check," she promised.
~
Val came home from work one day, and found Don standing between that door and the dining room table. At a glance, she could see the distinctive plastic shapes that tended to hold liquids in a carry-out order. "Mian or Pho?" Val asked. Unless that take-out spot's expanded their menu again.
"Pho," Don said. "There's also mac&cheese in the fridge, if you'd prefer that."
"What would you prefer?" Val asked, curious.
The music was soft and quiet, dinner easily re-microwavable.
"Dance?" Don asked, one hand extended to her.
As much a man of many words as ever, Val thought with a smile as she accepted, being drawn into his embrace.
Don let her lead (this song was one of her favorites). Left her pager clipped to her jeans, his cellphone clipped to his belt.
~
The difference between paint and people, is, as human beings, we may chose how we land.
.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
The End