Fic: Something like Loss
Title:Something like Loss
Author:EtherealFlaim
Genre:Slash (PG-13)
Fandom:Terminator - The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Characters:Charley/Derek
Warnings:Kink - Dominance; Spoilers: Season 2, Episode 3
Summary:Derek does his best to help Charley over his loss.
Author's Notes:This is for my scc_slash Hall of Fame challenge where I have the slash pairing Charley/Derek, prompt #34 Not Enough. I just watched S02E03, and I'm happy to say that my muse woke up and reared it's furry head. (Yeah, I think my muse is some sort of large cat. Not entirely sure yet, though.) It's short, but it practically wrote itself. Enjoy.
Charley wasn't sure where they were, but he was pretty fucking sure he didn't care. The darkness and closeness was comforting, and he huddled closer to the cold peeling wall, letting the tears flow freely down his face.
Slow, even, light footsteps by the door. Charley didn't look up. A tear wandered across his cheek and carried the tang of blood to the corner of his mouth. The footsteps resumed their muted progress across toward Charley. Charley still didn't look up. There were only two people who walked that steadily, and one of them wasn't really a person. He was pretty sure the fucking scary robot wasn't going to be checking up on him.
"I'm going to count to ten, and I want you to stop crying."
Yeah, it was definitely Derek. Fucking insensitive asshole.
"One." Derek counted slowly, steadily. Just as unwavering as his footsteps.
"Two." Derek continued.
Charley turned his face into the wall and tried to tune out the counting. He wasn't ready to stop grieving, and he didn't know if he ever would be. Derek kept counting.
"Nine." Derek's voice remained even, underscoring the threat which increased with every subsequent number.
"T--" Derek's final count was cut short by a fist which Charley was only vaguely aware belonged to him.
"Get the fuck out and leave me in peace."
Derek turned his face slowly back to Charley, not bothering to wipe the blood which was now trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"You think you have a right to grieve, old man?" Derek took a single step and was inches from Charley's face.
"Well think again. You don't get to grieve until it's over. And like it or not, it's not over yet. You think you're the only one who lost someone? Well, you'd be wrong about that too."
Charley's anger flared again. He didn't really give a shit right at this moment. If he thought even for a second that he had a chance at taking the smaller man on in a fight, he wouldn't have hesitated.
"I lost the only two people I ever fucking loved to the war, and I get reminded of it every time I look at John." Derek's voice became so quiet that Charley could feel it against his cheek more than he could hear it with his ears. "Dry your tears and load your guns, Charley Dixon, because the war is far from over and your loss is just beginning."
Charley snapped. His hand shot up and gripped Derek's throat, dragging him into the wall where Charley had been leaning moments before. "I've got news for you, asshole. I'm done. I'm out. I don't care what happens anymore."
Charley's blood pressure ticked up another notch as Derek's mouth cracked into a smile. "Oh, you might be done with them, but they're sure as hell not done with you. You think the metals haven't figured out that you matter to John and Sarah? I don't know what the fuck they see in a chicken-shit son-of-a-bitch like you, but I've given up on that one."
Charley knew he was being goaded, but couldn't care less. He threw the still-smirking man down onto the floor and placed his heel above the fighter's groin, pressing in slightly. "Leave me alone. Protect them, do whatever the hell it is you are supposed to be doing, but leave me out of it."
Derek laughed once, humorlesly, from the floor. "What're you going to do, Charley? Keep pressing until I die, unless I agree to let you go? I see two flaws with your brilliant plan. First, as soon as we let you go, you'll get captured (becaue you're a naive little fuck-up), and then we're right back at square one. Second, I don't think you could consciously take someone else's life."
Charley pressed harder with his foot and was gratified to see that Derek flinched away from the pain. For a brief moment, he was temped to do it, while at the same time knowing that Derek was exactly right. And that pissed him off even more, but he began to remove his foot anyway.
Derek moved faster than Charley would have even thought possible. Before Charley could let out his breath or scream "Fuck!" he was lying on his back on the floor with his hands pinned above his head and a stifling weight pressing down on his chest. It took him at least a second to register what had happened.
"Which, by the way, is something that we really need to work on."
The words were whispered scant millimeters from his lips, the glinting eyes of the resistance fighter boring into his own.
"Learn to take," Derek leaned imperceptably closer before continuing, "take advantage of the situation when you are in a position of--" Derek squeezed Charley's wrists and pressed them harder into the floor, "dominance..."
Derek backed off slightly and smirked down at the helplessly confused man on the floor between his knees.
"And pull the trigger." Derek closed the inch between their mouths and nipped Charley's lower lip, taking advantage of the surprised intake of breath to turn it into a full-on kiss. He sucked, licked, nipped, and kissed with such ferocity that Charley instinctively began to reciprocate. The sensory overload short-circuited any inhibitions he might have had even seconds earlier, let alone any grief he might have been feeling.
Almost as quickly as it had started, the onslaught ceased. When Charley opened his eyes, Derek was standing over him with a glint in his eye and a mischevious smile on his face.
"You still have a lot to learn." Comments and constructive criticism are like breakfast foods: I never tire of them.
Charley wasn't sure where they were, but he was pretty fucking sure he didn't care. The darkness and closeness was comforting, and he huddled closer to the cold peeling wall, letting the tears flow freely down his face.
Slow, even, light footsteps by the door. Charley didn't look up. A tear wandered across his cheek and carried the tang of blood to the corner of his mouth. The footsteps resumed their muted progress across toward Charley. Charley still didn't look up. There were only two people who walked that steadily, and one of them wasn't really a person. He was pretty sure the fucking scary robot wasn't going to be checking up on him.
"I'm going to count to ten, and I want you to stop crying."
Yeah, it was definitely Derek. Fucking insensitive asshole.
"One." Derek counted slowly, steadily. Just as unwavering as his footsteps.
"Two." Derek continued.
Charley turned his face into the wall and tried to tune out the counting. He wasn't ready to stop grieving, and he didn't know if he ever would be. Derek kept counting.
"Nine." Derek's voice remained even, underscoring the threat which increased with every subsequent number.
"T--" Derek's final count was cut short by a fist which Charley was only vaguely aware belonged to him.
"Get the fuck out and leave me in peace."
Derek turned his face slowly back to Charley, not bothering to wipe the blood which was now trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"You think you have a right to grieve, old man?" Derek took a single step and was inches from Charley's face.
"Well think again. You don't get to grieve until it's over. And like it or not, it's not over yet. You think you're the only one who lost someone? Well, you'd be wrong about that too."
Charley's anger flared again. He didn't really give a shit right at this moment. If he thought even for a second that he had a chance at taking the smaller man on in a fight, he wouldn't have hesitated.
"I lost the only two people I ever fucking loved to the war, and I get reminded of it every time I look at John." Derek's voice became so quiet that Charley could feel it against his cheek more than he could hear it with his ears. "Dry your tears and load your guns, Charley Dixon, because the war is far from over and your loss is just beginning."
Charley snapped. His hand shot up and gripped Derek's throat, dragging him into the wall where Charley had been leaning moments before. "I've got news for you, asshole. I'm done. I'm out. I don't care what happens anymore."
Charley's blood pressure ticked up another notch as Derek's mouth cracked into a smile. "Oh, you might be done with them, but they're sure as hell not done with you. You think the metals haven't figured out that you matter to John and Sarah? I don't know what the fuck they see in a chicken-shit son-of-a-bitch like you, but I've given up on that one."
Charley knew he was being goaded, but couldn't care less. He threw the still-smirking man down onto the floor and placed his heel above the fighter's groin, pressing in slightly. "Leave me alone. Protect them, do whatever the hell it is you are supposed to be doing, but leave me out of it."
Derek laughed once, humorlesly, from the floor. "What're you going to do, Charley? Keep pressing until I die, unless I agree to let you go? I see two flaws with your brilliant plan. First, as soon as we let you go, you'll get captured (becaue you're a naive little fuck-up), and then we're right back at square one. Second, I don't think you could consciously take someone else's life."
Charley pressed harder with his foot and was gratified to see that Derek flinched away from the pain. For a brief moment, he was temped to do it, while at the same time knowing that Derek was exactly right. And that pissed him off even more, but he began to remove his foot anyway.
Derek moved faster than Charley would have even thought possible. Before Charley could let out his breath or scream "Fuck!" he was lying on his back on the floor with his hands pinned above his head and a stifling weight pressing down on his chest. It took him at least a second to register what had happened.
"Which, by the way, is something that we really need to work on."
The words were whispered scant millimeters from his lips, the glinting eyes of the resistance fighter boring into his own.
"Learn to take," Derek leaned imperceptably closer before continuing, "take advantage of the situation when you are in a position of--" Derek squeezed Charley's wrists and pressed them harder into the floor, "dominance..."
Derek backed off slightly and smirked down at the helplessly confused man on the floor between his knees.
"And pull the trigger." Derek closed the inch between their mouths and nipped Charley's lower lip, taking advantage of the surprised intake of breath to turn it into a full-on kiss. He sucked, licked, nipped, and kissed with such ferocity that Charley instinctively began to reciprocate. The sensory overload short-circuited any inhibitions he might have had even seconds earlier, let alone any grief he might have been feeling.
Almost as quickly as it had started, the onslaught ceased. When Charley opened his eyes, Derek was standing over him with a glint in his eye and a mischevious smile on his face.
"You still have a lot to learn." Comments and constructive criticism are like breakfast foods: I never tire of them.