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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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2020-11-04
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1,215
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The Comfort of Your Touch

Summary:

Rating: FRT-17/Slash/Incest
Pairing: Don/Charlie
Length: 1206 words
Spoilers: Through 2.12 The OG.
Summary: Charlie traced the lines on Don's forehead, beside his eyes, watching as the tension left his face.
Notes: Fluffy mushy incest. Tag for 2.12 The OG.
Feedback: Would be appreciated.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Written: January 7, 2006
Submitted through the SlashByTheNumb3rs_2 mailing list.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

 

The Comfort of Your Touch
by Spikedluv


Charlie stood in the doorway and watched Don, his hand moving slowly as he picked up one photograph and looked at it, then set it down in favor of another. Don took a sip of beer as he pushed the pictures around, almost as if he was trying to find order in the chaos. Charlie must have made a sound, because Don looked over at him, one finger still resting on the photos.

"Charlie, hey, what are you doing here? Forget something?"

Don's voice was a little flat. He slid the photo he'd been touching into the pile, then turned away from the desk and walked towards Charlie. Don kept his eyes down and Charlie knew he was trying to hide the affects of the latest horror until he'd had time to deal with it. Just as he did with all the other horrors he was confronted with on a daily basis.

"Yeah, I did forget something." Charlie reached out for Don's free hand and stepped into him. He put his arm around Don's waist and rested his head on Don's shoulder.

Don's fingers twitched in his hand. "Charlie...."

"Shhh, just.... I need this, okay?"

Charlie wasn't lying, he did need this. He'd stood on the porch for a moment, uncertain, then told his father to go on without him. Don had sounded okay with them already having plans, but Charlie remembered from other cases that Don really needed to unwind, and he didn't do that as well when he was alone.

He'd used his cell phone to call Amita and tell her he couldn't make it, then slipped back into the house. It had taken him a while to find Don, because the garage was the last place he'd expected him to be. And when he'd seen Don looking at the photos, Charlie knew he'd been right to change his plans.

Charlie slid his hand up Don's and wrapped his fingers around his wrist, feeling the fragile bones that helped to remind him that Don was only the tough FBI agent on the outside. He eased his hand up Don's forearm, pushing his sleeve up a little, and then glided his hand up Don's arm and around his shoulder.

He didn't have to wait long to feel Don's hand on his back.

"Charlie."

"Shhh."

Charlie pressed a kiss to Don's throat. He slid his hand up the back of Don's neck and cradled his head as Don tilted it back, giving him better access. Charlie kissed up Don's throat and along his jaw, then drew Don's mouth down to his and kissed him gently on the lips.

With a small sound of surrender, Don parted his lips and Charlie slipped his tongue between them. Don tasted like beer and cinnamon. Don's fingers flexed against his back, and his touch became more firm as he pulled Charlie in closer. For a moment, Charlie thought Don was going to fight for dominance of the kiss, unable to allow himself to lose even that much control, but then Don shivered and went pliant in Charlie's arms.

Charlie kissed Don once more, then pulled back. He ran his fingers through Don's hair, just enjoying being able to touch him.

"You look like crap."

Don laughed, harsh and bitter. "Well, that's good, because I feel like crap."

Charlie backed up and pulled Don with him. "Let's go see if we can find something to eat. You probably haven't eaten right in days."

"Yeah, I could use...." Don frowned. "Wait, I thought you were going to Amita's?"

"Change of plans."

"Charlie, you didn't have to change your plans for me."

"I know; I wanted to."

"Charlie, you should...."

"Don't argue, or I won't let you hold the remote."

Don laughed, and this time it held a little more humor. "Wow, the remote, huh? It must be love."

Charlie laughed and led the way to the kitchen.

"Any leftovers? I don't feel like having to cook anything."

Don leaned against the counter and drank his beer while Charlie pulled the refrigerator door open and peered inside.

"Hmm. Looks like Dad cleaned the fridge. There's two pieces of turkey and a three bean salad." He glanced back at Don.

"I'll pass, thanks."

"We could order...."

"Anything but Chinese."

"Why?"

"Because you order it every time."

"I do not."

"Do."

"Do not."

Don raised an eyebrow and Charlie grinned.

"I suppose you want pizza?"

"Hey, Charlie, good idea! You order and I'll go see if there's a game on."

"So that means I can get...."

"No anchovies!"

Charlie smiled to himself as he picked up the phone and hit speed dial. "Wings?" he asked as he followed Don into the living room, this part familiar and comforting.

"Yeah, with extra bleu cheese."

Charlie watched Don find the remote, then sit on the couch and flip through the channels while he ordered their usual. He disconnected and set the phone on the coffee table before sliding onto the couch with Don.

Don lifted his arm automatically, eyes still on the television, and Charlie slipped beneath it. He pulled his legs up onto the couch and leaned against Don, wrapping his arm around his waist.

There was no hockey game on, so Don went through History, Discovery and TLC, channels he knew might hold some interest for Charlie. There was nothing on that he wanted to watch and they ended up on a women's college basketball game. Don set the remote down beside him and slid down a little bit, getting more comfortable. He put his hand on Charlie's arm and they sat that way until the food was delivered.

While Don got the door, Charlie went to the kitchen for plates and napkins, and brought back two beers. They sat side-by-side, legs touching and arms brushing, and finished off the pizza and wings. Don must have really been hungry, Charlie thought, once more feeling glad that he'd decided to stay.

Charlie carried the empty bottles and cartons out to the kitchen, tossed the garbage and rinsed the bottles. He contemplated another beer, but then decided that Don, exhausted and his stomach now full, would probably fall asleep without the aid of another. He returned to the living room to find Don laid out on the couch, his eyes closed.

Don opened one eye and smiled sleepily as he lifted up so Charlie could sit down. He laid his head on Charlie's lap and Charlie traced the lines on Don's forehead, beside his eyes, watching as the tension left his face. He dragged his fingers through Don's hair, feeling Don's body get heavy as sleep slowly overcame him.

When he thought Don was finally asleep, Charlie pulled the afghan down off the back of the couch and spread it over him, tucking it around his arms. Don was gazing up at him when he stopped fussing.

"I thought you were asleep," Charlie whispered.

"Almost. Charlie...." Don freed one hand from the blanket and grabbed Charlie's hand. "...I'm glad you're here."

Charlie smiled, brushed an errant strand of hair off Don's forehead. "Me, too, Donny." He leaned down and brushed his lips against the top of Don's head. "Me, too."

When he sat up Don was asleep.

The End

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Spikedluv.
If this work is yours and you would like to reclaim ownership, you can click on the Technical Support and Feedback link at the bottom fo the page.