Partners (2/3) : a Claude & Bennet fic
Claude was vaguely surprised to find an all-too-familiar cracked ceiling before his eyes. He wouldn’t have put it past Bennet to leave him out there on the ground until he regained consciousness.
Ah-oh, ow, what a headache.
He sat up slowly, gasping when he tried to support himself on his left wrist. At least the bastard didn’t break it.
Bennet was reading what looked like a status report by the bedside light.
“What time is it?” The taller man didn’t even glance up.
“Past midnight. You may as well go back to sleep, we need to be up in a few hours.”
Claude groaned and let his shoulders fall back to the headboard, resting his pounding head carefully against the wall.
Brilliant. Well, I suppose that’s one way to avoid the problem.
Then he noticed the ice gracing the man’s abdomen and winced in sympathy, though he couldn’t really bring himself to regret the cause.
“Did I hurt you?” Bennet’s eyes remained fixed on the paper, but they hadn’t moved since Claude’s recovery.
“I’ll live.” Dry and concise, as always.
“That’s nice to know, but it’s not what I asked.” Bennet dragged his eyes upward.
“I’m using ice, what do you think?”
Claude couldn’t help a chuckle at the irritation in his partner’s voice. Serves you.
“Yeah, laugh all you like, but you’re going to look like a panda for a few days. Or maybe a giraffe. Good luck explaining that to anyone.”
“ ‘s worth it though. I can just stay invisible and watch you limp around all week.”
Bennet raised incredulous eyebrows at him.
“There’s nothing wrong with my legs Claude. Are you sure I didn’t hit you a little too hard?”
The invisible man stared for a moment.
“You’ve never injured your torso before, have you mate.”
The brows drew together in confusion.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Claude sighed and heaved himself upright, blinking away the black dots that threatened to encompass his vision.
“Let me have a look.”
“What? No!” Bennet instinctively curled his hands over the icepack, flinching away from his partner’s reach.
“I’m not going to hurt you, you great baby, I just want to make sure you’re alrigh’. With your knowledge of anatomy you could have internal bleeding and not know it.”
The other man eyed him suspiciously but removed his hands and leaned back, grimacing as he did so.
“Thank you.”
Claude shifted the ice onto the nightstand and knelt beside the bed to examine the bruises more closely. Bennet’s breath hissed through his teeth when he touched the pale skin cautiously.
He almost immediately removed his hands in disgust, shaking cool water from his fingers.
“Just how long have you been icing this anyway?”
“Maybe a few hours. I wasn’t really keeping track of time.”
Claude stared up at him scornfully.
“You do know you’re an idiot right?”
“You’re supposed to ice bruises-”
“For twenty minutes, maybe. You just plopped the ice down and forgot about it, which is pretty amazing considerin’, but now you’re goin’ to be worse off ‘cause you’ll be stiff in addition to bein’ sore.”
“But-”
“Stay here.” Claude made his way to the bathroom for a few towels, grinning at the “Where am I supposed to go? I can’t move.” that followed him out of the room.
One of these days I’m going to have to give him a proper first aid lesson…
“Here, clean yourself up.” Bennet caught the hand towel with a flinch as Claude moved to start up the coffeemaker.
“You need to warm those muscles up or you really will tear something and trust me, you don’t want that. Hot water’s about the best we’ve got, but that might be a bit of a shock so now,” he knelt back down with a grin, “we’re goin’ to get you back to your normal temperature.”
He placed his hands lightly on his partner’s stomach, rubbing gently. Bennet’s body jerked reflexively inward as he hissed in pain.
“Shhh. I know it hurts but bear with me. You need to relax or you’ll make things harder on yourself.”
Claude kneaded the bruised muscles delicately, slowly tracing warmth back into them. The gurgle of the coffeemaker and occasional stilted yelps from his normally stoic companion rang harshly in the near silence as Bennet gradually relaxed under his fingers.
The gurgle quieted but Claude couldn’t make himself move, his attention restricted to the glide of his thumbs over shallow muscle and the brush of his fingertips against bare skin. The gradual cramping of his hands and the ache in his knees did nothing to deter the impulse to keep going, to insure he really had done everything he could…
It was a hushed sigh that caused him to look up and meet glassy, half-lidded eyes. The hazy gaze shoved its way straight down his throat to clench in his guts, twisting tauntingly and taking all the moisture in his mouth and throat with it.
I’m such a fool. Such a bloody idiot.
He swallowed and licked his lips automatically, too busy cursing himself to be appalled at the crack in his voice.
“Water’s done.”
Rising on legs that felt like elastic was difficult, but not nearly has hard as it was to tear himself away from those eyes and cross the room for the coffee pot. He wrapped the glass absently in a bath towel on the return trip, setting the bundle on the mattress and refusing to look up for fear of what he might do.
“Just use that the same as you did the ice for about 20 minutes to half an hour. I’m goin’ to get some sleep or we’ll both be good for nothing tomorrow. Today. Whatever.”
He threw himself onto the far side of the second bed and buried his face in a thin hotel pillow, desperately ignoring the heat radiating from his skin and the longing to touch.
I’m goin’ to need a vacation after this. A very long vacation somewhere very far away.
**
A wet splash on his temple forced Claude’s eyes open just in time to get the rest of the lukewarm water straight in the face.
He sputtered incoherently, pushing soaked strand of hair off his forehead and swiping at his eyes with his sleeves.
His dusty, sandy sleeves.
Ow, Damn it.
“Fuck Jack, what was that for?”
“Time to get up.” Bennet regarded him innocently but Claude could see the satisfied smirk sneaking across the man’s lips.
“What-” He caught a glimpse of the bedside clock and jolted to his feet.
“It’s 7:30! Why the hell are we still here?” He rifled through the jumble of clothes covering his suitcase in search of something that at least gave the illusion of being clean. He’d settle for anything that wasn’t dusted with grey, chalky dirt, really- after ten hours he felt as though every inch of his body was covered in grit. He could taste it.
Bennet just watched with that insufferably smug set to his shoulders, clean, groomed and totally professional in his hand-tailored navy suit.
Bastard. Probably used all the hot water too.
Not that I exactly have time to shower now.
…
Fuck, and I’ve got mud in my hair because of his bloody idea of a proper wake-up call.
Claude snatched a pair of jeans and a crumpled T-shirt, retreating to the bathroom with a venomous glare over his shoulder.
Bennet laughed at him.
“You’re going to be invisible, remember? It doesn’t matter what you look like.”
The door slammed hard enough to knock the rolled up washcloths onto the floor.
Fucking bastard.
**
“What I’m saying is, why us? Why did we have t’ be the ones runnin’ this mission? Plenty of other teams waiting around for assignments who could do the job better than us. Isabelle and Erin for example, they’d be fantastic! Women are always more wiling to talk to other women, have you noticed that? Always. Rule of the world. Mind you, Isabelle’s still having a bit of trouble staying human for more than a few hours, but still, they’d be loads better ‘n us.”
Bennet was staring at him.
“Are you done?”
Claude poured himself another glass of wine and nodded.
“Yeah, that should be about it.”
He was learning to hate those secret little grins. They always meant his partner was up to something. Usually laughing at his expense.
“I think you’re just trying to make up for that fiasco in the art room.”
The glare that had worked wonders on annoying younger siblings and too-inquisitive neighbors had no effect whatsoever on Jack Bennet.
“Seriously Claude, what were you doing? It was like something out of a poltergeist movie.”
The invisible man stabbed at his salad violently. Keep shoving your nose in and I’ll show you a real poltergeist you great--.
“Claude. What happened? I spent all afternoon trying to convince a roomful of children that their school was not actually haunted. I’m not good with children Claude. I think I deserve and explanation.”
“You think you deserve an explanation? Are you sure of anything in your life or do you only find purpose by following orders?”
“Stop avoiding the question.”
He closed his eyes with a sigh. He’ll never let me live this down. Never.
“I tripped, alrigh’? I tripped over a chair leg and fell into the paint trestle, and when I tried to get up from that I knocked into the chalk shelf. And then I figured there was already enough of a mess that no one would care much if I threw the finger paints on young Mendez’s picture.”
Bennet spit out his wine. Claude was only mildly disappointed when most of it made it back into the glass rather than decorating the table, or even better, Bennet’s own lap.
“Jesus Claude, warn me next time.”
He shrugged unapologetically.
“You asked.”
“And what inspired this sudden clumsiness and amateur vandalism? It was just a kid’s drawing.”
“You didn’t see this kid’s drawing.” Claude mumbled into a mouthful of salmon.
“What?”
“Nevermind. Anyway, the kid’s rather freaky when he draws. His eyes roll back in his head an’ he sort of… hops around.” He shivered. “Like watching a proper medium work when you c’n feel the ghosts in the room.”
His partner snorted.
“You don’t really believe in that stuff do you?”
“What stuff?”
“Mediums, spirit guides, psychics. That stuff.”
Claude stared.
“Jack, I’m a man who c’n turn invisible at will. You start believing in a lot of things when physics stop workin’ properly in your general vicinity.”
Bennet flushed lightly and ducked his head.
“Right, sorry. I forgot.”
“You-” Claude’s jaw clicked shut. “You forgot. You just-- I was invisible less than three hours ago! We’ve been talking about it all evening! How c’n you just forget?”
“I don’t know! I--”
They watched each other silently for a moment.
“Sorry.”
Claude waved off the apology impatiently.
“Stop apologizing, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Actually I-” he stopped. “I’m kind of glad you c’n forget it. It’s nice to know you’re not constantly thinkin’ of me as one of them, as Thompson put it.”
He focused his attention back on the half-full plate before him.
Now we’re havin’ a bleeding moment. What the hell is going on? We’re work partners not--
Fuck.
I didn’t sign up for this, damn it.
The screech of his chair skidding back grated unpleasantly against his ears as he stood hurriedly.
“I have to go.”
Bennet was giving him that half-puzzled half-disappointed gaze again. Claude threw a handful of bills onto the table and stalked away, fading into transparency as soon as he left the restaurant and scaring a flock of sparrows into flight.
He didn’t stop until he’d ensconced himself on the roof of an opposite apartment building. They sky was halfway between the dusky purple hues of twilight and the inky tones of full night and he would have given anything to just disappear into its expanse.
How many times have I wished for flight instead of invisibility? How many times?
The invisible man (truly invisible now, the power stretching over his body like a liquid shield against prying partners) closed his eyes and let the night wash over him quietly. He could use all the tranquility the sky might have to offer.
<
Next Part>>
Ah-oh, ow, what a headache.
He sat up slowly, gasping when he tried to support himself on his left wrist. At least the bastard didn’t break it.
Bennet was reading what looked like a status report by the bedside light.
“What time is it?” The taller man didn’t even glance up.
“Past midnight. You may as well go back to sleep, we need to be up in a few hours.”
Claude groaned and let his shoulders fall back to the headboard, resting his pounding head carefully against the wall.
Brilliant. Well, I suppose that’s one way to avoid the problem.
Then he noticed the ice gracing the man’s abdomen and winced in sympathy, though he couldn’t really bring himself to regret the cause.
“Did I hurt you?” Bennet’s eyes remained fixed on the paper, but they hadn’t moved since Claude’s recovery.
“I’ll live.” Dry and concise, as always.
“That’s nice to know, but it’s not what I asked.” Bennet dragged his eyes upward.
“I’m using ice, what do you think?”
Claude couldn’t help a chuckle at the irritation in his partner’s voice. Serves you.
“Yeah, laugh all you like, but you’re going to look like a panda for a few days. Or maybe a giraffe. Good luck explaining that to anyone.”
“ ‘s worth it though. I can just stay invisible and watch you limp around all week.”
Bennet raised incredulous eyebrows at him.
“There’s nothing wrong with my legs Claude. Are you sure I didn’t hit you a little too hard?”
The invisible man stared for a moment.
“You’ve never injured your torso before, have you mate.”
The brows drew together in confusion.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Claude sighed and heaved himself upright, blinking away the black dots that threatened to encompass his vision.
“Let me have a look.”
“What? No!” Bennet instinctively curled his hands over the icepack, flinching away from his partner’s reach.
“I’m not going to hurt you, you great baby, I just want to make sure you’re alrigh’. With your knowledge of anatomy you could have internal bleeding and not know it.”
The other man eyed him suspiciously but removed his hands and leaned back, grimacing as he did so.
“Thank you.”
Claude shifted the ice onto the nightstand and knelt beside the bed to examine the bruises more closely. Bennet’s breath hissed through his teeth when he touched the pale skin cautiously.
He almost immediately removed his hands in disgust, shaking cool water from his fingers.
“Just how long have you been icing this anyway?”
“Maybe a few hours. I wasn’t really keeping track of time.”
Claude stared up at him scornfully.
“You do know you’re an idiot right?”
“You’re supposed to ice bruises-”
“For twenty minutes, maybe. You just plopped the ice down and forgot about it, which is pretty amazing considerin’, but now you’re goin’ to be worse off ‘cause you’ll be stiff in addition to bein’ sore.”
“But-”
“Stay here.” Claude made his way to the bathroom for a few towels, grinning at the “Where am I supposed to go? I can’t move.” that followed him out of the room.
One of these days I’m going to have to give him a proper first aid lesson…
“Here, clean yourself up.” Bennet caught the hand towel with a flinch as Claude moved to start up the coffeemaker.
“You need to warm those muscles up or you really will tear something and trust me, you don’t want that. Hot water’s about the best we’ve got, but that might be a bit of a shock so now,” he knelt back down with a grin, “we’re goin’ to get you back to your normal temperature.”
He placed his hands lightly on his partner’s stomach, rubbing gently. Bennet’s body jerked reflexively inward as he hissed in pain.
“Shhh. I know it hurts but bear with me. You need to relax or you’ll make things harder on yourself.”
Claude kneaded the bruised muscles delicately, slowly tracing warmth back into them. The gurgle of the coffeemaker and occasional stilted yelps from his normally stoic companion rang harshly in the near silence as Bennet gradually relaxed under his fingers.
The gurgle quieted but Claude couldn’t make himself move, his attention restricted to the glide of his thumbs over shallow muscle and the brush of his fingertips against bare skin. The gradual cramping of his hands and the ache in his knees did nothing to deter the impulse to keep going, to insure he really had done everything he could…
It was a hushed sigh that caused him to look up and meet glassy, half-lidded eyes. The hazy gaze shoved its way straight down his throat to clench in his guts, twisting tauntingly and taking all the moisture in his mouth and throat with it.
I’m such a fool. Such a bloody idiot.
He swallowed and licked his lips automatically, too busy cursing himself to be appalled at the crack in his voice.
“Water’s done.”
Rising on legs that felt like elastic was difficult, but not nearly has hard as it was to tear himself away from those eyes and cross the room for the coffee pot. He wrapped the glass absently in a bath towel on the return trip, setting the bundle on the mattress and refusing to look up for fear of what he might do.
“Just use that the same as you did the ice for about 20 minutes to half an hour. I’m goin’ to get some sleep or we’ll both be good for nothing tomorrow. Today. Whatever.”
He threw himself onto the far side of the second bed and buried his face in a thin hotel pillow, desperately ignoring the heat radiating from his skin and the longing to touch.
I’m goin’ to need a vacation after this. A very long vacation somewhere very far away.
**
A wet splash on his temple forced Claude’s eyes open just in time to get the rest of the lukewarm water straight in the face.
He sputtered incoherently, pushing soaked strand of hair off his forehead and swiping at his eyes with his sleeves.
His dusty, sandy sleeves.
Ow, Damn it.
“Fuck Jack, what was that for?”
“Time to get up.” Bennet regarded him innocently but Claude could see the satisfied smirk sneaking across the man’s lips.
“What-” He caught a glimpse of the bedside clock and jolted to his feet.
“It’s 7:30! Why the hell are we still here?” He rifled through the jumble of clothes covering his suitcase in search of something that at least gave the illusion of being clean. He’d settle for anything that wasn’t dusted with grey, chalky dirt, really- after ten hours he felt as though every inch of his body was covered in grit. He could taste it.
Bennet just watched with that insufferably smug set to his shoulders, clean, groomed and totally professional in his hand-tailored navy suit.
Bastard. Probably used all the hot water too.
Not that I exactly have time to shower now.
…
Fuck, and I’ve got mud in my hair because of his bloody idea of a proper wake-up call.
Claude snatched a pair of jeans and a crumpled T-shirt, retreating to the bathroom with a venomous glare over his shoulder.
Bennet laughed at him.
“You’re going to be invisible, remember? It doesn’t matter what you look like.”
The door slammed hard enough to knock the rolled up washcloths onto the floor.
Fucking bastard.
**
“What I’m saying is, why us? Why did we have t’ be the ones runnin’ this mission? Plenty of other teams waiting around for assignments who could do the job better than us. Isabelle and Erin for example, they’d be fantastic! Women are always more wiling to talk to other women, have you noticed that? Always. Rule of the world. Mind you, Isabelle’s still having a bit of trouble staying human for more than a few hours, but still, they’d be loads better ‘n us.”
Bennet was staring at him.
“Are you done?”
Claude poured himself another glass of wine and nodded.
“Yeah, that should be about it.”
He was learning to hate those secret little grins. They always meant his partner was up to something. Usually laughing at his expense.
“I think you’re just trying to make up for that fiasco in the art room.”
The glare that had worked wonders on annoying younger siblings and too-inquisitive neighbors had no effect whatsoever on Jack Bennet.
“Seriously Claude, what were you doing? It was like something out of a poltergeist movie.”
The invisible man stabbed at his salad violently. Keep shoving your nose in and I’ll show you a real poltergeist you great--.
“Claude. What happened? I spent all afternoon trying to convince a roomful of children that their school was not actually haunted. I’m not good with children Claude. I think I deserve and explanation.”
“You think you deserve an explanation? Are you sure of anything in your life or do you only find purpose by following orders?”
“Stop avoiding the question.”
He closed his eyes with a sigh. He’ll never let me live this down. Never.
“I tripped, alrigh’? I tripped over a chair leg and fell into the paint trestle, and when I tried to get up from that I knocked into the chalk shelf. And then I figured there was already enough of a mess that no one would care much if I threw the finger paints on young Mendez’s picture.”
Bennet spit out his wine. Claude was only mildly disappointed when most of it made it back into the glass rather than decorating the table, or even better, Bennet’s own lap.
“Jesus Claude, warn me next time.”
He shrugged unapologetically.
“You asked.”
“And what inspired this sudden clumsiness and amateur vandalism? It was just a kid’s drawing.”
“You didn’t see this kid’s drawing.” Claude mumbled into a mouthful of salmon.
“What?”
“Nevermind. Anyway, the kid’s rather freaky when he draws. His eyes roll back in his head an’ he sort of… hops around.” He shivered. “Like watching a proper medium work when you c’n feel the ghosts in the room.”
His partner snorted.
“You don’t really believe in that stuff do you?”
“What stuff?”
“Mediums, spirit guides, psychics. That stuff.”
Claude stared.
“Jack, I’m a man who c’n turn invisible at will. You start believing in a lot of things when physics stop workin’ properly in your general vicinity.”
Bennet flushed lightly and ducked his head.
“Right, sorry. I forgot.”
“You-” Claude’s jaw clicked shut. “You forgot. You just-- I was invisible less than three hours ago! We’ve been talking about it all evening! How c’n you just forget?”
“I don’t know! I--”
They watched each other silently for a moment.
“Sorry.”
Claude waved off the apology impatiently.
“Stop apologizing, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Actually I-” he stopped. “I’m kind of glad you c’n forget it. It’s nice to know you’re not constantly thinkin’ of me as one of them, as Thompson put it.”
He focused his attention back on the half-full plate before him.
Now we’re havin’ a bleeding moment. What the hell is going on? We’re work partners not--
Fuck.
I didn’t sign up for this, damn it.
The screech of his chair skidding back grated unpleasantly against his ears as he stood hurriedly.
“I have to go.”
Bennet was giving him that half-puzzled half-disappointed gaze again. Claude threw a handful of bills onto the table and stalked away, fading into transparency as soon as he left the restaurant and scaring a flock of sparrows into flight.
He didn’t stop until he’d ensconced himself on the roof of an opposite apartment building. They sky was halfway between the dusky purple hues of twilight and the inky tones of full night and he would have given anything to just disappear into its expanse.
How many times have I wished for flight instead of invisibility? How many times?
The invisible man (truly invisible now, the power stretching over his body like a liquid shield against prying partners) closed his eyes and let the night wash over him quietly. He could use all the tranquility the sky might have to offer.
<
Next Part>>