Pairing(s): Don/Ian, OCs
Rating: I think this one's PG 13, but if you disagree, let me know.
Summary: Pre Series. Don doesn't know Charlie,but how well does Charlie know Don?
Notes/Warnings: There is a kiss in this one, but that's all.
Beta cerealkiller0 who rules in so many ways
“Leave it alone.”
“It’s making you better.”
“By making me sick!”
Kimball glanced at Ian, who was pacing by the window.
“Funny isn’t it? When either of them gets hurt, they might as well be seven again.” He said, trying to make a joke.
“They didn’t fight this much when they were seven.” Ian said, shortly, as Pavel caught his sister’s hand.
“Leave it, Nikita” Pavel moaned. The look his older (if only by ten minutes) sister threw him could have killed, but her hand stayed away from the IV.
Kimball smiled slightly. Nic, like most FBI agents, didn’t handle been ill well even at the best of times, and this was hardly it.
The bullets that had pieced her Kevlar vest had also introduced infection. The doctors were happy that wounds were healing well, but unfortunately the antibiotics that they were using to counter act the infection were making Nic nauseous.
He strongly suspected that Ian’s constant pacing and Pavel’s chatter weren’t helping either. As though to confirm this, Nic’s icy glare fixed on Ian.
“Stop pacing. You’re making me feel worse.” When Ian didn’t reply, she sighed. “It wasn’t your fault. If you’d been there, he’d have just got you instead.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know the guy was good enough to take out Don and me. That’s pretty good.”
Ian continued to pace. Nic shook her head. “Please stand still when I’m talking to you. You’re making me...” She started heaving before she could finish.
Almost without thinking, Kimball grabbed the dish. “Shh. Shh. It’s O.K. I’ve got you.” His hand rubbed at the small of her back automatically, his other hand stroking her hair.
Ian watched both, reassuring himself that Nic was real, that she was O.K., that in spite of everything, she was alive.He wanted to see Don, to touch him and reassure himself that he hadn’t screwed up as badly as he believed.
He was used to feeling this bad when Nic got hurt. He was the one who’d taught her to shoot after all one summer when they were both young and bored and sick of being the only kids on their block, cause everyone else was away or at camp. Kids from the orphanage never got that opportunity. But worrying about Don? That was new. He spun around and left.
Pavel paused, glancing at Ian's retreating form before returning his attention to his sister. Her eyes were staring out at him from under Kimball’s arms.
“I will go get some fresh clothes, yes?” he suggested, backing out of the room. As he left, he stopped in the doorway long enough to watch Kimball place a kiss on the top of Nic’s head as she leaned against him.
Ever since he was a baby, when Pavel Chekov got worried, he tended to babble.
Ian joked that one of the reasons he was such a good sniper, was learning as a teenager to to shut out Pavel’s babbling while trying to do homework, but today, he couldn’t handle it. So when Pavel asked him for a lift to the Academy, he shook his head. He couldn’t handle one pain in the neck little brother today, much less two, and Charlie had volunteered to go to the academy with Pavel to pick up some things for Don.
Don rarely spoke of his home - or his family- despite the photos he kept out in his room, but Ian had picked up that his family hadn’t approved of his decision to join the FBI and that Don was fairly certain that his family wouldn’t be happy about his sexuality.
Ian didn’t entirely understand that. Once he’d left the military, the only person whose opinion matter to him was Nic, and as Pavel had beaten him to it by a couple of months, he’d known she’d be O.K. with it.
Don came from a family so loving that when they heard he’d been shot, they had rushed half way across the country. If they were that worried about him, he couldn’t imagine them not being supportive. Maybe a little hurt, as Nic had been at first that he didn’t trust them enough to tell them sooner, but they would get over it.
Or got revenge by attempting to set him up, as Nic had done to Ian.
A small smile ran across his face, at the memory of some of the dates Nic had set up, almost all disasters, culminating in a date with a guy who was straight, but extremely shy. He had been completely terrified of Ian and the end of that evening was something he didn’t like thinking about. He had warned Nic not to try it again, but she never listened to him.
Ironically, the only man he could come up with that Nic hadn’t tried to set him up with was Don, and that had probably because even she wasn’t crazy enough to try setting him up with a guy he kept butting heads with.
Though Ian had problem with staff members at Quantico before, none were as bad as what happened with Don. At points it seemed like they couldn’t even be in the same room without yelling or sniping (with words, of course) at each other.
The situation came to a head when it was time to select the students for the advanced courses. He didn’t honestly remember much of the evening, just that it had resulted in their bosses demanding that they “work their shit out” and more bluntly from Nic, “Fight or fuck, but get on with it.”
Ultimately they had done both.
Don wanted, needed, to let go, to give control over to someone else. Ian didn’t understand that, the idea of giving anyone the type of surrender, the type of control that Don gave to him, frankly terrified him. But Don...He was a sweet lay. And being in control, no matter what the situation, was something Ian needed. He simply could not imagine giving Don the same power that Don seemed to give him.
With a slight start, he realised that inadvertently, he had given Don the same power over him.
“Fuck,” he muttered to the world.
Charlie managed not to swear as he opened the drawer and found himself gazing at a layer of pants.
“Most agents keep their shirts in the top drawer. Something to do with academy dorm rooms.”
Trying not to sigh, Charlie opened the drawer Pavel had indicated. As the Russian had suggested, t-shirts stared up at him.
“Thanks,” he muttered. This was humiliating. It was the eighth time this had happened since they arrived in this room. He tried not to feel like he was six years old again and sneaking into Don’s room, but it was hard. It was Don’s room, but it felt like a stranger’s. In fact, he wouldn’t have known it was Don’s if hadn't Pavel led him here. This stranger knew Don better than his own brother.
Pavel coughed lightly. “I’m going to go get some stuff for Nic. We will meet by the door?”
Charlie nodded. Perhaps it would give him a chance to figure things out.
“A lot of stuff was in his bag,” Pavel informed softly, from where he stood in the doorway. “It is evidence so...” He trailed off there and shrugged. Charlie nodded distractedly and Pavel retreated.
Once alone, Charlie resumed his search, attempting to locate books or something to make the stay better.
There were photos pinned to the bulletin board. A family shot from when Charlie was five, a Stockton Rangers picture, Don and a red-haired stranger Charlie didn’t recognize. Looking at the way both men were smiling at the camera, he guessed that this guy was a friend. He wished he knew his name.
He was over by the dresser, looking at the abysmal collection of books that Don owned, when he noticed it. A photo envelope with a note propped up on it. Slowly, he picked up the note and read.
You said you wanted copies. These arrived this afternoon and I didn’t want to give them to you in class. Just let me know which ones you want duplicates of. Apologies for the excessive amount of plant life, guess you can’t take the botany major out of the photographer.
Hope you had a nice weekend
Charlie opened the envelope.
The first shot was a group one. He could recognize Don and the man from the hospital- Agent Edgerton. With them were Agent Chekov, Pavel, the Asian man whose name he’d never got, and another Asian man who he didn’t recognize. All were grinning at the camera, dressed in casuals. A sign in the background declared them to be in a National Park. He remembered Dad saying that Don and some friends had gone camping on President’s Day weekend.
The next shot was of Agent Chekov and the Asian. They had evidently been in the process of kissing, when Agent Chekov had realized the camera was on them and thrown a hand out to stop it. The man she was kissing was smiling indulgently.
The next couple of shots were of plants, one of which distracted him for a moment because of the leaves showing an excellent example of Finehart’s second law.
He flicked through the remainders, seeing just a group of friends enjoying themselves. He was about to put the photos back in the envelope, when he realized that he’d dropped one.
Carefully he bent down to pick it up, freezing as he turned it over.
The photo was of Don and Agent Edgerton. Their arms were around each other, but neither was looking at the camera.
The photo fell again from his fingers.
Their lips were locked together, eyes partly closed.
Charlie completely forgot about the underpants, t-shirts and toothbrush piled up on the bed. Without thinking, he ran.