Crash and Burn
Crash and Burn
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters; too bad, so sad.
Pairings/Characters: Jack/Nathan (pre-slash)
Spoilers: For 1.11, “H.O.U.S.E. Rules” and a sequel to Cold Storage
Word Count: ~1200
Summary: Nathan has a habit of driving a little too fast.
A/N: Written for the
hc_bingo prompt, “accidents.” With many thanks to Stayawhile.
Nathan sees the deer a split second before it leaps in front of his car, and he wrenches the wheel around to avoid hitting it-without success. His tires skid on a patch of gravel, his right front bumper clips the deer, and his BMW spins out of control.
“Shit,” he curses, throwing his hands up instinctively. His car hits something hard, the airbag deploys, and Nathan feels his head crack against the driver’s side window.
He’s not sure how long he’s out, but he comes to when a light shines directly into his face through the window, and someone taps loudly on the glass. “Stark!” Carter shouts through the glass. “Unlock the door!”
Nathan fumbles for the lock, and as soon as he flips it, Carter pulls the door open. “What happened?” Carter demands.
“There was a deer,” Nathan manages, putting a hand against his head. “Dammit.”
“Sit tight,” Carter says. “I’m going to call the paramedics.”
“I’m fine,” Nathan insists. “I just have a headache.”
“You have a head wound, and you probably have a concussion,” Carter snaps. “So, just sit tight until the paramedics get here.”
Nathan unbuckles his seatbelt and starts to get out of the car, but Carter stops him by grabbing his shoulders.
“Okay, you know what? Pretend you’re human for a minute and wait for the fucking paramedics.” Carter’s fierce expression stops Nathan from moving, and he slumps back against the seat. “Thank you.”
“I’m fine,” Nathan says, but he knows it’s a weak comeback, and he’s already bracing himself for an overnight stay in the infirmary.
Carter pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and begins to mop up the blood. Nathan pulls back sharply, and Carter grips his chin with a firm hand. “Seriously, hold still. Let me see how bad this is.”
Nathan slumps back against the seat of his car and allows Carter to do what he pleases. Nathan’s head hurts abominably, and he can hear the sirens start in the distances. Under the circumstances, it’s easier to let Carter have his way.
“All right,” Carter begins. “I don’t think it’s too bad, but I still want you to get checked out by the medics when they get here.”
“I can hear them coming,” Nathan mutters.
Carter huffs out a breath. “They should be well on their way by now. Were you speeding?”
Nathan opens his mouth to reply hotly.
Carter cuts him off. “Oh, wait, who am I talking to? Of course, you were speeding.”
“Bite me,” Nathan snarls.
Carter grins. “I need dinner, and many, many drinks first,”
Nathan feels the blush creep up his face. “Carter-”
“Oh, here they are,” Carter says with an impish grin. “Thanks for coming so quickly, guys,” he says, greeting them like old friends.
Nathan submits to the examination with ill grace, allowing them to usher him to the back of the ambulance. They shine a light in his eyes, ask him a few basic questions, and tape a few butterfly bandages over the small cut on his head.
“I think you’ll be just fine, Dr. Stark,” the short, stocky medic says cheerfully, stripping off his latex gloves. The name on his uniform reads “Pratt,” and Nathan knows he’s met him before, even if he doesn’t remember. “But if you’re at all concerned, we’d be happy to give you a ride back up to GD.”
“I just want to go home,” Nathan responds wearily.
“I can give him a ride,” Carter offers. “It’s no big deal.”
Pratt offers Nathan a hand up. “If you’re sure, Sheriff.”
“Does he need someone to wake him up periodically?” Carter asks, and Nathan somehow isn’t surprised that Carter knows the procedure for dealing with people who have been concussed.
Pratt shakes his head. “No, he’s showing no signs of a concussion.” He turns to Nathan. “Be sure to stop in at the infirmary if the headache gets worse, you start seeing double, or get disoriented, though.”
“I will,” Nathan says shortly. He pauses to look at his car where it sits in the ditch, feeling a pang when he sees the damage.
As though reading his mind, Carter says, “I already called Henry. He’ll tow it tomorrow, and then let you know what the damage is.”
Nathan nods. “Thanks.”
Carter shrugs off the gratitude. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
Nathan is too tired and sore to attempt to make conversation, and Carter seems to sense as much, because he keeps quiet until they’ve nearly reached Nathan’s house. “So, do you want to tell me what you were doing out there?”
Nathan sighs, knowing immediately what Carter meant. He’d been outside of town, halfway to Carter’s house, when he’d struck the deer. There’s no obvious reason for Nathan to have been driving that road, unless he’d been on his way to see Carter, which he hadn’t.
Although, Nathan can admit, if only to himself, that he probably would have dropped by Carter’s place if he had been a reasonable excuse.
He doesn’t have an excuse, though-not unless he counts his growing attraction to the man, which he doesn’t.
“I went for a drive to clear my head,” Nathan finally admits slowly. “I just-needed some space.”
Carter pulls up in front of Nathan’s house, and comments, “Lucky I was working late, and happened by when I did, then.”
Nathan knows that his smile is mirthless. “Lucky me.”
“Stark.” Carter stops and hesitantly puts a hand on Nathan’s forearm. “Are you going to be okay?”
Nathan feels the connection that hums between them, and it scares him. He’s been physically attracted to Carter almost from the first, and that’s only grown over the last few months. But it’s the connection that has been building between them since Callister that has Nathan worried.
Nathan has long since learned the fine art of sublimation and redirection, but he’s not sure there’s anything he can do in the face of this growing bond made up of attraction and shared experiences and understanding.
Seeing the concern in Carter’s blue eyes, and feeling the warmth of his hand, just makes it that much harder for Nathan to pull away. “I’ll be fine,” he replies decisively, but he doesn’t break Carter’s hold.
He just sits there, waiting for Carter to be the one to pull back, and it’s a lot like a game of chicken. Nathan holds Carter’s gaze all that time, until Carter lets out a breath and looks away, breaking physical contact at the same time.
“Call me if you need me,” Carter says.
“I won’t,” Nathan replies automatically, and he’s not sure if he means that he won’t need Carter, or he won’t call, even if he does.
But then, spurred by some impulse even he doesn’t understand, Nathan says, “But I might let you buy me a drink sometime.”
He gets out of the car immediately, not wanting to hear Carter’s response, and he’s rather pleased with his ability to stun the sheriff into silence.
And maybe one of these days, Nathan thinks, he really will let Carter buy him that drink.
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters; too bad, so sad.
Pairings/Characters: Jack/Nathan (pre-slash)
Spoilers: For 1.11, “H.O.U.S.E. Rules” and a sequel to Cold Storage
Word Count: ~1200
Summary: Nathan has a habit of driving a little too fast.
A/N: Written for the
hc_bingo prompt, “accidents.” With many thanks to Stayawhile.
Nathan sees the deer a split second before it leaps in front of his car, and he wrenches the wheel around to avoid hitting it-without success. His tires skid on a patch of gravel, his right front bumper clips the deer, and his BMW spins out of control.
“Shit,” he curses, throwing his hands up instinctively. His car hits something hard, the airbag deploys, and Nathan feels his head crack against the driver’s side window.
He’s not sure how long he’s out, but he comes to when a light shines directly into his face through the window, and someone taps loudly on the glass. “Stark!” Carter shouts through the glass. “Unlock the door!”
Nathan fumbles for the lock, and as soon as he flips it, Carter pulls the door open. “What happened?” Carter demands.
“There was a deer,” Nathan manages, putting a hand against his head. “Dammit.”
“Sit tight,” Carter says. “I’m going to call the paramedics.”
“I’m fine,” Nathan insists. “I just have a headache.”
“You have a head wound, and you probably have a concussion,” Carter snaps. “So, just sit tight until the paramedics get here.”
Nathan unbuckles his seatbelt and starts to get out of the car, but Carter stops him by grabbing his shoulders.
“Okay, you know what? Pretend you’re human for a minute and wait for the fucking paramedics.” Carter’s fierce expression stops Nathan from moving, and he slumps back against the seat. “Thank you.”
“I’m fine,” Nathan says, but he knows it’s a weak comeback, and he’s already bracing himself for an overnight stay in the infirmary.
Carter pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and begins to mop up the blood. Nathan pulls back sharply, and Carter grips his chin with a firm hand. “Seriously, hold still. Let me see how bad this is.”
Nathan slumps back against the seat of his car and allows Carter to do what he pleases. Nathan’s head hurts abominably, and he can hear the sirens start in the distances. Under the circumstances, it’s easier to let Carter have his way.
“All right,” Carter begins. “I don’t think it’s too bad, but I still want you to get checked out by the medics when they get here.”
“I can hear them coming,” Nathan mutters.
Carter huffs out a breath. “They should be well on their way by now. Were you speeding?”
Nathan opens his mouth to reply hotly.
Carter cuts him off. “Oh, wait, who am I talking to? Of course, you were speeding.”
“Bite me,” Nathan snarls.
Carter grins. “I need dinner, and many, many drinks first,”
Nathan feels the blush creep up his face. “Carter-”
“Oh, here they are,” Carter says with an impish grin. “Thanks for coming so quickly, guys,” he says, greeting them like old friends.
Nathan submits to the examination with ill grace, allowing them to usher him to the back of the ambulance. They shine a light in his eyes, ask him a few basic questions, and tape a few butterfly bandages over the small cut on his head.
“I think you’ll be just fine, Dr. Stark,” the short, stocky medic says cheerfully, stripping off his latex gloves. The name on his uniform reads “Pratt,” and Nathan knows he’s met him before, even if he doesn’t remember. “But if you’re at all concerned, we’d be happy to give you a ride back up to GD.”
“I just want to go home,” Nathan responds wearily.
“I can give him a ride,” Carter offers. “It’s no big deal.”
Pratt offers Nathan a hand up. “If you’re sure, Sheriff.”
“Does he need someone to wake him up periodically?” Carter asks, and Nathan somehow isn’t surprised that Carter knows the procedure for dealing with people who have been concussed.
Pratt shakes his head. “No, he’s showing no signs of a concussion.” He turns to Nathan. “Be sure to stop in at the infirmary if the headache gets worse, you start seeing double, or get disoriented, though.”
“I will,” Nathan says shortly. He pauses to look at his car where it sits in the ditch, feeling a pang when he sees the damage.
As though reading his mind, Carter says, “I already called Henry. He’ll tow it tomorrow, and then let you know what the damage is.”
Nathan nods. “Thanks.”
Carter shrugs off the gratitude. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
Nathan is too tired and sore to attempt to make conversation, and Carter seems to sense as much, because he keeps quiet until they’ve nearly reached Nathan’s house. “So, do you want to tell me what you were doing out there?”
Nathan sighs, knowing immediately what Carter meant. He’d been outside of town, halfway to Carter’s house, when he’d struck the deer. There’s no obvious reason for Nathan to have been driving that road, unless he’d been on his way to see Carter, which he hadn’t.
Although, Nathan can admit, if only to himself, that he probably would have dropped by Carter’s place if he had been a reasonable excuse.
He doesn’t have an excuse, though-not unless he counts his growing attraction to the man, which he doesn’t.
“I went for a drive to clear my head,” Nathan finally admits slowly. “I just-needed some space.”
Carter pulls up in front of Nathan’s house, and comments, “Lucky I was working late, and happened by when I did, then.”
Nathan knows that his smile is mirthless. “Lucky me.”
“Stark.” Carter stops and hesitantly puts a hand on Nathan’s forearm. “Are you going to be okay?”
Nathan feels the connection that hums between them, and it scares him. He’s been physically attracted to Carter almost from the first, and that’s only grown over the last few months. But it’s the connection that has been building between them since Callister that has Nathan worried.
Nathan has long since learned the fine art of sublimation and redirection, but he’s not sure there’s anything he can do in the face of this growing bond made up of attraction and shared experiences and understanding.
Seeing the concern in Carter’s blue eyes, and feeling the warmth of his hand, just makes it that much harder for Nathan to pull away. “I’ll be fine,” he replies decisively, but he doesn’t break Carter’s hold.
He just sits there, waiting for Carter to be the one to pull back, and it’s a lot like a game of chicken. Nathan holds Carter’s gaze all that time, until Carter lets out a breath and looks away, breaking physical contact at the same time.
“Call me if you need me,” Carter says.
“I won’t,” Nathan replies automatically, and he’s not sure if he means that he won’t need Carter, or he won’t call, even if he does.
But then, spurred by some impulse even he doesn’t understand, Nathan says, “But I might let you buy me a drink sometime.”
He gets out of the car immediately, not wanting to hear Carter’s response, and he’s rather pleased with his ability to stun the sheriff into silence.
And maybe one of these days, Nathan thinks, he really will let Carter buy him that drink.