Fic: One Hundred Threads, Dani/Charlie, PG,
Title: One Hundred Threads
Pairing: Dani/Charlie
Warnings: Angst, mostly.
Summary: Charlie wakes up too early and has to make a decision. Dani has too much stuff and not enough hands.
A/N: The End! Finished! Done! Last one! The rest can be found here.
Charlie woke up when the sky was still blushing at the rising sun and before the light flooded the room. It was too early to get up, too late to fall easily back to sleep, so he lay still, Dani draped over him like a sheet.
The birds were singing, mutedly for now, but getting louder and louder the brighter the sky got. The sun paused at the edge of the window, then flooded the room, bleaching everything, white and gold and the window had been left open, so a breeze that wasn't dry and hot yet cooled the room.
Charlie tried to move, a little, and Dani punched his shoulder, making some kind of noise that was probably meant to be threatening but wound up being cute instead, like most things Dani did around him. He settled back and watched the sunbeam start making its way across the floor, bumping into and stretching around his new furniture as it went. It was almost awkward, as though it weren't expecting them, and the trashcan cast a long, surprised shadow across the floor.
Somewhere outside, Ted was yelling at the horse about something. Charlie tried to crane his neck to look out the window, but Dani punched him again, and he lay back, resting his head on her arm, which had been flung out and back in some dream fight.
Charlie wondered if she did that often, fought with the monsters under the bed, or in the closet. He fought with monsters in the dark for a long time and the monsters almost always won, and then he got a fairy godmother and there you went, down the rabbit hole and out.
Which was a little weird, even to him.
The closet door was old, looked odd in his white walls and the knob gleamed dully in reflected sunlight.
Charlie still remembered the first day he met Dani, with her hair pulled back, but slipping out of pins, the sun on her but not in her, still muddled by something, by anger, by sorrow, by a life lived in sepia, Charlie had thought, with brown jacket and sensible shoes, protection from everyone, prickly smile protection from him. Charlie moved through the world by creating fogs of words, fake smiles, and Dani raised her spines and never lowered them.
She looked better in his white sheets, hair falling over white pillows. She looked better with her lips curving up, triumphantly, because whatever monster she'd been fighting, she'd won, just like she always did and always would. Charlie knew that for absolutely certain. He wasn't always positive the sun would come up every morning, but he knew for sure that when it came to a fight, he'd bet on Dani Reese hands down, every time. Bet on her and smile through the whole thing.
“God, would you go back to sleep?” Dani grumbled and opened one eye to glare halfheartedly at him.
“Um,” she put her hand over his mouth.
“No, seriously, shut up and sleep.”
He nodded and lay back down, but it was too late. The sunlight had gotten inside of his brain and woken everything up and now he was too busy being to sleep. Dani seemed to sense this, because lay beside him for a moment, breathing, then got up, sighing.
“Okay. I'm going to go get some coffee and something to eat,” she sat up and grabbed a shirt. “Stay here and rest, Crews.”
He nodded and watched her go, long, golden limbs and dark hair. When she left the room, she didn't make a sound and once the door was closed, it was like she was gone for good and Charlie had to stifle the urge to get up and go after her and make sure she was still there, with him.
Dani wouldn't leave. They were partners.
The sunbeam hit the closet door, hesitantly, red wood and brass fittings.
Dani would come upstairs with coffee, and maybe a few bagels or something stuffed under her arm. They could spend the morning in bed, drinking coffee and ignoring the newspaper, maybe she'd let him make empty platitudes into real conversation. They could spend the whole day doing nothing, rearranging furniture, never leaving the bed.
They'd never have to look into corners, clear out dark spaces.
They could go to the beach, eat out at a little hole in the wall, where the second ingredient in every meal was lard. They could rent a boat and look for sharks.
No close spaces, no guns, no wires, no names, no pictures.
The sun turned the wood into accents of red on black. The yellow remnants of untarnished brass gleamed.
He sat up and pushed the sheets away. The saleswoman had said something about high thread count when he'd bought them. He didn't really know what that had meant, but they were soft and smooth as old paper and fell away gently.
When Dani came back upstairs, she had two cups of coffee and a bag of fruit stuffed under her arms. Charlie was standing in front of the door, trying to decide whether or not to open it. He heard her put the food on the bedside table she'd picked out for him somewhere deep in the city, somewhere away from the world, where people made things before they sold them and how cool was that?
“What are you looking at?”
He looked down at her and smiled, but it came out lopsided.
“I have something to show you.”
She looked at him, cupped his cheek and really looked at him, then nodded.
“Okay,” She turned as she spoke and went back to bed, “But tell me after breakfast.”
Pairing: Dani/Charlie
Warnings: Angst, mostly.
Summary: Charlie wakes up too early and has to make a decision. Dani has too much stuff and not enough hands.
A/N: The End! Finished! Done! Last one! The rest can be found here.
Charlie woke up when the sky was still blushing at the rising sun and before the light flooded the room. It was too early to get up, too late to fall easily back to sleep, so he lay still, Dani draped over him like a sheet.
The birds were singing, mutedly for now, but getting louder and louder the brighter the sky got. The sun paused at the edge of the window, then flooded the room, bleaching everything, white and gold and the window had been left open, so a breeze that wasn't dry and hot yet cooled the room.
Charlie tried to move, a little, and Dani punched his shoulder, making some kind of noise that was probably meant to be threatening but wound up being cute instead, like most things Dani did around him. He settled back and watched the sunbeam start making its way across the floor, bumping into and stretching around his new furniture as it went. It was almost awkward, as though it weren't expecting them, and the trashcan cast a long, surprised shadow across the floor.
Somewhere outside, Ted was yelling at the horse about something. Charlie tried to crane his neck to look out the window, but Dani punched him again, and he lay back, resting his head on her arm, which had been flung out and back in some dream fight.
Charlie wondered if she did that often, fought with the monsters under the bed, or in the closet. He fought with monsters in the dark for a long time and the monsters almost always won, and then he got a fairy godmother and there you went, down the rabbit hole and out.
Which was a little weird, even to him.
The closet door was old, looked odd in his white walls and the knob gleamed dully in reflected sunlight.
Charlie still remembered the first day he met Dani, with her hair pulled back, but slipping out of pins, the sun on her but not in her, still muddled by something, by anger, by sorrow, by a life lived in sepia, Charlie had thought, with brown jacket and sensible shoes, protection from everyone, prickly smile protection from him. Charlie moved through the world by creating fogs of words, fake smiles, and Dani raised her spines and never lowered them.
She looked better in his white sheets, hair falling over white pillows. She looked better with her lips curving up, triumphantly, because whatever monster she'd been fighting, she'd won, just like she always did and always would. Charlie knew that for absolutely certain. He wasn't always positive the sun would come up every morning, but he knew for sure that when it came to a fight, he'd bet on Dani Reese hands down, every time. Bet on her and smile through the whole thing.
“God, would you go back to sleep?” Dani grumbled and opened one eye to glare halfheartedly at him.
“Um,” she put her hand over his mouth.
“No, seriously, shut up and sleep.”
He nodded and lay back down, but it was too late. The sunlight had gotten inside of his brain and woken everything up and now he was too busy being to sleep. Dani seemed to sense this, because lay beside him for a moment, breathing, then got up, sighing.
“Okay. I'm going to go get some coffee and something to eat,” she sat up and grabbed a shirt. “Stay here and rest, Crews.”
He nodded and watched her go, long, golden limbs and dark hair. When she left the room, she didn't make a sound and once the door was closed, it was like she was gone for good and Charlie had to stifle the urge to get up and go after her and make sure she was still there, with him.
Dani wouldn't leave. They were partners.
The sunbeam hit the closet door, hesitantly, red wood and brass fittings.
Dani would come upstairs with coffee, and maybe a few bagels or something stuffed under her arm. They could spend the morning in bed, drinking coffee and ignoring the newspaper, maybe she'd let him make empty platitudes into real conversation. They could spend the whole day doing nothing, rearranging furniture, never leaving the bed.
They'd never have to look into corners, clear out dark spaces.
They could go to the beach, eat out at a little hole in the wall, where the second ingredient in every meal was lard. They could rent a boat and look for sharks.
No close spaces, no guns, no wires, no names, no pictures.
The sun turned the wood into accents of red on black. The yellow remnants of untarnished brass gleamed.
He sat up and pushed the sheets away. The saleswoman had said something about high thread count when he'd bought them. He didn't really know what that had meant, but they were soft and smooth as old paper and fell away gently.
When Dani came back upstairs, she had two cups of coffee and a bag of fruit stuffed under her arms. Charlie was standing in front of the door, trying to decide whether or not to open it. He heard her put the food on the bedside table she'd picked out for him somewhere deep in the city, somewhere away from the world, where people made things before they sold them and how cool was that?
“What are you looking at?”
He looked down at her and smiled, but it came out lopsided.
“I have something to show you.”
She looked at him, cupped his cheek and really looked at him, then nodded.
“Okay,” She turned as she spoke and went back to bed, “But tell me after breakfast.”