And here's another drabble. This one's Red Dragon!
Title: An Unexpected Kindness (278 words)
Pairing: one-sided Jack Crawford/Will Graham
Rating: PG (‘cause Will has a slightly dirty mouth)
Summary: (pre-Red Dragon) Will’s sick and Jack pays a visit.
Notes: Was feeling ill, and I never see this pairing, so I couldn’t resist.
Will hated being sick. Hatehatehatehate. However, in spite of all the horrid things he was wishing on the germs that had infected him, Will couldn't do much besides curl up in his gray bathrobe and try to nap on the couch. He was hungry, but almost everything non-liquid aggravated his sore throat like nobody’s business. It was a good thing his son, Josh, was fond of popsicles and was always begging Will and Molly to buy them.
The FBI profiler sighed and stretched out on the sofa. He was actually about to nod off when the doorbell started ringing. With a moan of utter irritation, Will dragged himself to his feet, went to the door, and opened it.
“Jack…” SLAM!
Jack Crawford, FBI stared at the door that had just been closed in his face. Damn, he’d already been standing out here for fifteen minutes staring at that stupid fake-oak finish trying to work up the courage to ring the bell. Will’s reaction certainly hadn’t boosted moral. With a sigh, Jack rang again.
The door flew open. “What?” Will snapped, his voice sounding thick from a stuffy nose. “Dammit, Jack, you know I’m sick.”
“Yeah, Will, I know. I brought-”
“What? A case file? New evidence?”
Crawford pressed a brown paper bag containing a Tupperware into Will’s hands. “It’s chicken soup.”
“Oh,” Graham said, looking down at the bag and stopping mid-rant. Before he even had a chance to say ‘thank you’, Jack pulled him into a hug. It was brief though, and a moment later, Crawford stepped away. Jack had hugged him?
“Uh, Jack?”
“Get better soon, Will. The FBI needs ya, and I do too.”
Pairing: one-sided Jack Crawford/Will Graham
Rating: PG (‘cause Will has a slightly dirty mouth)
Summary: (pre-Red Dragon) Will’s sick and Jack pays a visit.
Notes: Was feeling ill, and I never see this pairing, so I couldn’t resist.
Will hated being sick. Hatehatehatehate. However, in spite of all the horrid things he was wishing on the germs that had infected him, Will couldn't do much besides curl up in his gray bathrobe and try to nap on the couch. He was hungry, but almost everything non-liquid aggravated his sore throat like nobody’s business. It was a good thing his son, Josh, was fond of popsicles and was always begging Will and Molly to buy them.
The FBI profiler sighed and stretched out on the sofa. He was actually about to nod off when the doorbell started ringing. With a moan of utter irritation, Will dragged himself to his feet, went to the door, and opened it.
“Jack…” SLAM!
Jack Crawford, FBI stared at the door that had just been closed in his face. Damn, he’d already been standing out here for fifteen minutes staring at that stupid fake-oak finish trying to work up the courage to ring the bell. Will’s reaction certainly hadn’t boosted moral. With a sigh, Jack rang again.
The door flew open. “What?” Will snapped, his voice sounding thick from a stuffy nose. “Dammit, Jack, you know I’m sick.”
“Yeah, Will, I know. I brought-”
“What? A case file? New evidence?”
Crawford pressed a brown paper bag containing a Tupperware into Will’s hands. “It’s chicken soup.”
“Oh,” Graham said, looking down at the bag and stopping mid-rant. Before he even had a chance to say ‘thank you’, Jack pulled him into a hug. It was brief though, and a moment later, Crawford stepped away. Jack had hugged him?
“Uh, Jack?”
“Get better soon, Will. The FBI needs ya, and I do too.”