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numb3rsflashfic
Title: With Bells On
Pairing/Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating/Category: R/Slash/Incest
Word Count: 2208
Spoilers: None; takes place season one.
Summary: Don learns Charlie’s secret.
Notes/Warning: 6Degree Fandom: The Santa Clause. Crack; some angst, some humor. I need to be careful when issuing crack challenges. After posting this challenge and issuing the bonus challenge of a The Santa Clause crossover, I went to bed and could think of nothing else! Given real life issues, I only finished typing it up now. Uh, enjoy. *g*
Written: February 16, 2008
Every year for twelve years Charlie had disappeared on December 1 and wasn’t seen again until late on December 24. The first time it happened was the year Don left Stockton behind for Quantico, but Don didn’t find out about it until he came home when his mother was ill. The first time it had happened after Don returned home, Don had been worried sick when Charlie had disappeared, but his father and his mother and Larry and Amita had all told him not to worry; Charlie took a sabbatical the same time every year, he was fine and would be home on the 24th.
Don hadn’t understood how they could be so blase about Charlie’s disappearance -- especially given that Charlie refused to tell them where he went and there was no way to contact him -- and he’d given Charlie hell the first moment he saw him. Don had yelled and Charlie had yelled back and because Charlie could be a tight-lipped son of a bitch when he wanted to be, he’d refused to respond to any of Don’s demands for an explanation.
He hadn’t the following year, or the next, or even the previous year, after his and Don’s relationship had . . . changed. This year Don was prepared. One night while Charlie was sleeping, Don had injected him with a subcutaneous transmitter. Don was tired of having this secret between them, of not knowing; wherever Charlie was going, Don was going to be right behind him.
Don carried the GPS locator with him all day on November 30; he even took it to bed with him, certain that something was going to happen that night, since Charlie had refused to spend the night at Don’s apartment. When Don woke up the next morning, December 1, Charlie was already gone. GPS placed him somewhere near the north pole.
Don didn’t know what the hell Charlie was doing all the way up there, but he was going to find out. Nor did he know how Charlie had managed to get there within a matter of hours, because it took him three days and five connections to arrive at Charlie’s location. When the snowmobile rumbled to a stop, Don’s mouth dropped open. He’d clearly gone mad from all the white snow.
Don closed his eyes, said a short, silent prayer, then opened them again. The tableau hadn’t changed; it was like something out of a storybook.
After a nudge from the driver, and checking the GPS one last time, Don managed to haul himself off the snowmobile, his legs weak and wobbly as if he’d been sitting a horse for hours. It took him a moment to get his land legs back and for his body to stop feeling like it was still vibrating, and then he hobbled past the sign that proclaimed, ‘North Pole’ and followed the sidewalk to a building maintaining itself to be ‘Santa’s Workshop’.
The noise inside was deafening -- hammering and clanging and voices raised to be heard above it all -- and the bright greens and reds that the, uh, workshop employees were wearing gave him a headache. Though to be honest, his headache had started three days ago when Charlie’d managed to give him the slip, and had only intensified when the snowmobile pulled up to their final destination.
Don finally spotted an el—, employee who stood a head taller than the others. Once he’d confirmed that the curls were attached to the head he wanted, Don stalked across the workshop. He stood behind Charlie, hands on his hips -- though he probably looked more like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man than an angry brother -- glaring at the back of Charlie’s head, as Charlie rambled on about dimensions and wormholes (Don wondered if Larry realized Charlie had actually been listening) while he tightened screws, oblivious to Don’s presence.
The workshop went silent around them, and still Charlie didn’t notice. Until one of the . . . his co-workers cleared his throat and inclined his head in Don’s direction. Charlie’s head came up and Don watched his shoulders stiffen. And then Charlie turned around.
“Don.”
“Charlie.”
“Don. What, uh, what are you doing here?”
Don’s eyebrows went up so far he was surprised they stayed attached to his face. “What am I doing here?” Don looked around them at the now silent workshop. “Charlie, what the hell are you doing here?”
Charlie’s chin went up and his eyes flashed defiance. “Making toys.”
Don wasn’t sure what to say to that simple response, though he was pretty sure that, “But . . . you’re Jewish,” was pretty far down on the list of logical responses that might actually work.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t swing a hammer.” Charlie glanced down at the tool he still held. “Or turn a screwdriver.” He set the screwdriver down on the table and crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off from Don. “How did you find me, anyway?”
Don’s mouth opened and closed. He hadn’t spent as much time thinking about the consequences of his plan as he had putting the plan into motion.
Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “Don?”
It was simpler to tell the truth than try to come up with a plausible lie now, so Don handed over the GPS locator.
Charlie took it from Don and stared at it, his brow furrowing in concentration. “I don’t understand. I didn’t bring my cell phone or my laptop with me, so what did you track?”
Don cleared his throat, wished they had a bit more privacy for what he knew was coming next. “You.”
“Me? But I . . . . You didn’t.” Don must have looked guilty as hell, because Charlie exploded, “You did! I can’t believe you! I . . . !”
“Is there a problem here?” a deep voice interrupted.
“No.”
“Yes!”
Charlie was pissed. Really pissed. Don hadn’t seen him this mad in . . . well, he didn’t know how long, that’s how mad Charlie was.
“Get it out of me. Right now.”
Charlie’d stopped yelling, which was bad. Don held up a placating hand. “Charlie . . . .”
“Don’t you Charlie me! I am not some, some pet . . . .”
“I know that, Charlie,” Don said, but Charlie was past listening.
“. . .or, or, or a criminal that you can just treat this way . . . .”
Don sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. He knew that yelling at Charlie would just create more yelling, and he was tired of yelling. “I was worried about you, all right?” Charlie’s tirade broke off as he looked at Don. “I mean, you disappear, every year, and you won’t tell anyone where you go, and there’s no way to contact you, and I just . . . I was concerned.”
“I’m sorry you were worried,” Charlie said, “but it’s not like anyone would have believed me if I’d told them I went to the North Pole and helped Santa’s elves make toys.”
“Yeah, no, I suppose not.”
“The yelling’s over? Excellent. Bernard, why don’t you take . . . .”
“My brother, Don.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Don,” the man boomed. Don shook his hand and mumbled something about the pleasure being mutual, and then Charlie was leading him off towards the employee lounge at, uh, the man’s request.
“The rest of you, get back to work. We’ve got a deadline here!”
Once in the lounge, Don sat in one of the chairs, his knees almost touching his chin. “I feel like I’m in the middle of a bad acid trip.”
“The North Pole can be like that the first time,” Charlie said, then handed Don a mug of hot chocolate. It even had whipped cream on top, with little chocolate sprinkles.
Don took a sip, then licked the whipped cream off his upper lip. “Can you explain this to me? I mean, how did you even . . . ?”
Charlie settled into a chair across from Don, rested his elbows on the table. He shrugged, as if to minimize what he was going to say next, then said, “I was lonely . . . after you left. I mean, I buried myself in school, but that wasn’t always enough, and one day I ran into . . . .”
“Santa Claus?”
“He said he was shorthanded, and it looked like I could use some time away.”
“And so you came up here and made toys.”
“It was . . . relaxing. Rejuvenating, in a way.”
“And you’ve been coming up here ever since.”
Charlie nodded.
Don’s mouth was dry and his heart thumped painfully in his chest. “Do you still need it? I mean, are you still lonely?”
“No! Don.” Charlie reached across the table, pressed the tips of his fingers to the back of Don’s hand.
Don let go of the mug and turned his hand over, let his fingers slide over Charlie’s until they’d twined together. “Then . . . why do you still come up here?”
Charlie shrugged and looked away from Don. “I don’t know, because they need me, I guess. And I’ve made some friends up here.”
Don nodded as he stroked his thumb over Charlie’s finger. He understood, now at least, more than anyone how much Charlie needed to feel needed. “You’re needed at home, you know.”
Charlie’s smile was self-conscious and color rose in his skin. “I know. I do know that, Don.”
Don nodded. “Okay. All right. So, tell me, why did he call you Bernard?”
Charlie snorted. “I don’t think he was listening when I told him my name. He’s been calling me that since the first time I came up here. I’ve gotten used to it.”
It probably hadn’t hurt that Charlie was looking to be someone different the first time Sa—, the big guy had found him, Don thought, but he just grinned and said, “Whatever you say, Chuck.”
“Don’t call me that, Donald.”
“You’ll let a complete stranger call you Bernard for twelve years, but you won’t let me, your adoring brother, call you Chuck? That hurts, Charlie.”
“You’re full of it,” Charlie retorted.
“Maybe, but at least I’m not wearing that outfit.”
Charlie frowned. “What’s wrong with my outfit? It’s what the well-dressed elf is wearing these days.”
Don peeked under the table. “I can’t decide which I like best, the pointy hat or the way the toes curl on those cute little booties.”
Charlie adjusted the hat self-consciously. “Ha. You should’ve seen the one I had to wear the first year I was here.”
“Very sexy,” Don teased.
Predictably, Charlie blushed, and Don wished he could lean across the table and kiss him.
“Listen, Don.”
“No, Charlie, it’s fine. I understand that you need to do this, I just want you to know that you don’t have to come all the way to the North Pole to find people who need you.”
Charlie looked at Don like he wanted to jump over the table into Don’s lap; Don’s lap liked that idea a lot. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, never letting go of Charlie’s hand. “I need to get back to LA.”
“I think I know someone who can help you with that.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Hey, Don.”
“Yeah?”
“I think I might like to make different plans for next December.”
Don gazed deeply into Charlie’s eyes, as if he could tell whether Charlie was being completely honest with him just by looking. “Yeah?” Charlie nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”
Charlie smiled at him, and worry over Charlie’s disappearances, hurt that Charlie didn’t trust him enough to tell him where he went, all floated away under the joy of it, and Don smiled back.
Twenty days later Don walked hurriedly into his bedroom, yanking at the tie that refused to come undone even as he unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt in anticipation of dragging the damned thing off. Charlie was due home any time now, and Don wanted to be there when he showed up. Preferably out of the suit and tie that was currently causing him no end of frustration. He stumbled to a halt when he saw Charlie lying on his bed.
Don’s blood raced and his breath caught. “You’re back.”
“I am.” Charlie wiggled his feet and the bells at the tips of his booties jingled. Charlie waggled his eyebrows and said, “With bells on.”
Don chuckled, but it turned into a moan when Charlie stretched on the bed. “And I’m naked.”
“Mostly,” Don agreed. His eyes traveled from the green and red cap that sat at a jaunty angle on Charlie’s head, the pointed tip bent down to brush his cheek, to the bells at the curled tips of the red and green booties.
Charlie adjusted the hat. “You said they were sexy.”
Don almost blurted out that he’d been joking, but his body reminded him that Charlie was in his bed and also naked and that Don would be a fool to do any such thing because Don had not been able to touch Charlie for twenty-four long, torturous days.
“Very sexy,” Don said as the tie magically slid free. “Felt has become my very favorite thing in the world.”
“They’re not made of felt,” Charlie pointed out.
“Whatever,” Don said, and covered Charlie’s nearly naked body with his own still clothed one and proceeded to make sure that the only words that came out of Charlie’s mouth for the rest of the evening were oh god, yes please and more.
The End
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Date: 2008-02-16 08:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-16 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-16 09:06 pm (UTC)“I feel like I’m in the middle of a bad acid trip.”
Yeah well it's a pretty good acid trip for the rest of us!
I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!
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Date: 2008-02-16 09:13 pm (UTC)acid tripstory. *bg*no subject
Date: 2008-02-16 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-17 06:40 pm (UTC)love me for itenjoyed it. *g*no subject
Date: 2008-02-17 11:27 am (UTC)Wow, that's great! I have been thinking about how to crossover N3 with SC, but I couldn't, and you have and it's brilliant!
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Date: 2008-02-17 06:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-17 05:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-17 06:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-11 01:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-11 04:50 pm (UTC)