Sobel Smiles (a little)
Guess who's back?
Title: It Isn’t That I’m Crazy, I’m Just Having a Bad Day - Session Five
Author: m_buggie
Fandom: “Band of Brothers”
Pairings: eventual Sobel/Evans, implied unrequited past Sobel/Winters, mentions of Winters/Nixon
Word Count: 731 for Session Five
Rating: PG-13
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This is an off-shoot of the Modern Day AU of Doom, otherwise known as “Nothing Says I Love You Like a Crowded Bar and a Dark Alleyway.” Written for and with the help of alouette_sparra. Thanks also go to melliyna for being such a cheerful enabler to this madness.
~x~x~
Session #5
“Holy mother of God, Mr. Sobel, is that a smile?”
Dr. Robert Sink chuckled and sat on the edge of his desk, regarding the usually sullen young man who walked into his office.
Startled, Herbert Sobel blinked and the faint grin which had been playing on his lips instantly vanished as though he felt embarrassment at having been caught doing something other than scowling.
“Something must’ve gone right for you today,” Dr. Sink remarked. “You seem less miserable than usual.”
Sobel huffed as he sat down on the couch and retorted, “Your hair seems less gray than it did during our last session. Good grief, Dr. Sink, did you dye it?”
“Well, you got me there, sonny,” Sink answered, moving over to sit in that old wooden rocking chair of his. “Wasn’t my idea, either.”
“No?” There was a hint of challenge to his voice, a touch of amusement.
“No,” Sink declared with a firm shake of his head. “But the wife insisted on it for the wedding we’re going to.”
Sobel snorted. “Weddings.”
“I take it you’ve got issues with matrimony, Mr. Sobel?”
He shrugged, diverting his attention to the fact that the knock-off of Monet’s “Water Lilies” had moved spots on the wall. He stared at the painting for a long moment before deciding, no, he still detested Monet.
“Uh-huh, well, we’ll get to those later, I imagine. What I want to know is what had in almost a good mood when you first walked in here today.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dr. Sink.”
“You’re not a very good liar, Mr. Sobel, so I suggest you stop doing it. Besides, therapy only helps if you tell the truth.”
Sobel glowered.
Sink smirked.
“So what do you think of your new assistant?” the therapist asked. “What’s his name?” Sink flipped back the pages in his notebook for reference, as he was apt to do. “Evans. What do you think of Evans?”
“There’s nothing…offensive…about him.”
“Offensive?” Sink wrote in the last line on one page of his notebook and turned to the next. He always seemed to write more with Sobel than with any of his other patients.
“Well, I mean he’s satisfactory,” was all he said by means of explanation.
Sink chuckled. “He’s a person, Mr. Sobel.”
“I know that.”
“Then why do you insist on referring to him with such impersonal terms?”
“I don’t…I mean…he’s okay,” Sobel eventually sighed, fiddling with an exasperating stray thread on the cuff of one of his sleeves. “He’s an okay guy; kind of naïve but a good worker and a fast learner. His name’s Will. Will Evans from Dripping Springs, Texas.”
“I thought you said he was from Chicago?”
“No, he only went to college in Chicago but he’s from Texas originally. Actually, Will attended Texas A&M for a year before transferring.”
Sink paused in his note-taking and raised his eyebrows. “You’re on a first name basis with him?”
Sobel cleared his throat, muttering a response that was incomprehensible.
“That’s quite a breakthrough for you, Mr. Sobel,” Sink went on to say. “In all this time the only other person you’ve mention who’s been graced with a given name in addition to a surname as been Dick Winters.”
“Don’t compare Will to Dick,” Sobel snapped. “Evans and Winters, they’re different people. There’s no comparison.”
“There are those surnames again,” Sink observed.
“A side effect of the ROTC, I suppose.”
“Do you feel more comfortable addressing others that way?”
“You could say that.”
“So what make Dick Winters and Will Evans so special that they warrant first names?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that either of them is particularly special,” Sobel murmured, but the words sounded lame and unconvincing to even his own ears. “Dick and Will are just…different.”
“Different in a good way or different in a bad way?”
“In a good way, I guess.”
“Uh-huh. Do you know what I think, Mr. Sobel?”
“What’s that, Dr. Sink?” Sobel asked, bracing himself for whatever his company appointed therapist was about to say.
“I think you need to stop beating around the bush and just call them what they are to you.”
Sobel swallowed, his pulse quickening the teeniest bit. “Oh?”
“Friends, Mr. Sobel. They’re called friends.”
“Of course. Friends.” Dark eyes slid shut and Sobel released the breath he’d been holding. “Dick and Will…just friends…”
Title: It Isn’t That I’m Crazy, I’m Just Having a Bad Day - Session Five
Author: m_buggie
Fandom: “Band of Brothers”
Pairings: eventual Sobel/Evans, implied unrequited past Sobel/Winters, mentions of Winters/Nixon
Word Count: 731 for Session Five
Rating: PG-13
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This is an off-shoot of the Modern Day AU of Doom, otherwise known as “Nothing Says I Love You Like a Crowded Bar and a Dark Alleyway.” Written for and with the help of alouette_sparra. Thanks also go to melliyna for being such a cheerful enabler to this madness.
~x~x~
Session #5
“Holy mother of God, Mr. Sobel, is that a smile?”
Dr. Robert Sink chuckled and sat on the edge of his desk, regarding the usually sullen young man who walked into his office.
Startled, Herbert Sobel blinked and the faint grin which had been playing on his lips instantly vanished as though he felt embarrassment at having been caught doing something other than scowling.
“Something must’ve gone right for you today,” Dr. Sink remarked. “You seem less miserable than usual.”
Sobel huffed as he sat down on the couch and retorted, “Your hair seems less gray than it did during our last session. Good grief, Dr. Sink, did you dye it?”
“Well, you got me there, sonny,” Sink answered, moving over to sit in that old wooden rocking chair of his. “Wasn’t my idea, either.”
“No?” There was a hint of challenge to his voice, a touch of amusement.
“No,” Sink declared with a firm shake of his head. “But the wife insisted on it for the wedding we’re going to.”
Sobel snorted. “Weddings.”
“I take it you’ve got issues with matrimony, Mr. Sobel?”
He shrugged, diverting his attention to the fact that the knock-off of Monet’s “Water Lilies” had moved spots on the wall. He stared at the painting for a long moment before deciding, no, he still detested Monet.
“Uh-huh, well, we’ll get to those later, I imagine. What I want to know is what had in almost a good mood when you first walked in here today.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dr. Sink.”
“You’re not a very good liar, Mr. Sobel, so I suggest you stop doing it. Besides, therapy only helps if you tell the truth.”
Sobel glowered.
Sink smirked.
“So what do you think of your new assistant?” the therapist asked. “What’s his name?” Sink flipped back the pages in his notebook for reference, as he was apt to do. “Evans. What do you think of Evans?”
“There’s nothing…offensive…about him.”
“Offensive?” Sink wrote in the last line on one page of his notebook and turned to the next. He always seemed to write more with Sobel than with any of his other patients.
“Well, I mean he’s satisfactory,” was all he said by means of explanation.
Sink chuckled. “He’s a person, Mr. Sobel.”
“I know that.”
“Then why do you insist on referring to him with such impersonal terms?”
“I don’t…I mean…he’s okay,” Sobel eventually sighed, fiddling with an exasperating stray thread on the cuff of one of his sleeves. “He’s an okay guy; kind of naïve but a good worker and a fast learner. His name’s Will. Will Evans from Dripping Springs, Texas.”
“I thought you said he was from Chicago?”
“No, he only went to college in Chicago but he’s from Texas originally. Actually, Will attended Texas A&M for a year before transferring.”
Sink paused in his note-taking and raised his eyebrows. “You’re on a first name basis with him?”
Sobel cleared his throat, muttering a response that was incomprehensible.
“That’s quite a breakthrough for you, Mr. Sobel,” Sink went on to say. “In all this time the only other person you’ve mention who’s been graced with a given name in addition to a surname as been Dick Winters.”
“Don’t compare Will to Dick,” Sobel snapped. “Evans and Winters, they’re different people. There’s no comparison.”
“There are those surnames again,” Sink observed.
“A side effect of the ROTC, I suppose.”
“Do you feel more comfortable addressing others that way?”
“You could say that.”
“So what make Dick Winters and Will Evans so special that they warrant first names?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that either of them is particularly special,” Sobel murmured, but the words sounded lame and unconvincing to even his own ears. “Dick and Will are just…different.”
“Different in a good way or different in a bad way?”
“In a good way, I guess.”
“Uh-huh. Do you know what I think, Mr. Sobel?”
“What’s that, Dr. Sink?” Sobel asked, bracing himself for whatever his company appointed therapist was about to say.
“I think you need to stop beating around the bush and just call them what they are to you.”
Sobel swallowed, his pulse quickening the teeniest bit. “Oh?”
“Friends, Mr. Sobel. They’re called friends.”
“Of course. Friends.” Dark eyes slid shut and Sobel released the breath he’d been holding. “Dick and Will…just friends…”