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janie_tangerineThank Jacob for catch-up days. I might try to catch up with the only other Queen I missed today, if I get the inspiration.
Title: In Repair
Rating: PG13 to be sure
Pairing: very platonic Desmond/Sayid
Words: 2400
Summary: He doesn’t wait for permission and sits next to Sayid on the couch, placing the ice cream bowl in front of him on the small table; he almost wants to laugh when Sayid turns his head and looks at him with a completely surprised expression that Desmond didn’t even think him capable of doing. Sayid didn’t seem one that could get surprised by many things, after all.
Spoilers: up to the S4 finale.
Disclaimer: ha, not mine. I doubt it'll end so well for both of them.
A/N: queen![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
astra2104 at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
lostsquee asked for ice, for which I tried like, three different plots but wouldn't work. Then I had the idea and it wanted to be for my second closeted OTP, which I hope the Queen will enjoy nonetheless ;) using for lostpicksix #22, domestic bliss, even if it's a very twisted domestic bliss. Title stolen from John Mayer and I swear it took more to find it than to write the whole thing.
Penny had kept her old apartment in London just for a back up and it hasn’t been used in years, but it’s big enough for two and Desmond still is kind of surprised that Sayid has accepted to go and stay with him for at least that month when he asked, after they were back from the island for good.
After all, everyone else had somewhere to go and someone to go with (Sun with Jin, Juliet with Jack, Sawyer with Hurley, Claire with Kate); Penny had to go for a month in Seoul to discuss with Sun of a way to merge both of their deceased fathers’ companies and Desmond hadn’t been able to bear the sight of Sayid standing alone in the lobby of the airport, checking for flights without having an idea of where to go.
Also, he thought he had seen Charlie eying Sayid and then him quite badly before giving him a thumbs up and disappearing. While, since he hadn’t talked, it might have been the only time he really did hallucinate Charlie in two years of visits, Desmond figured it was just a sign that he should just try to at least pay him back for both that call so much time ago and for not following Ben’s order regarding Penny much more recently.
Sayid hadn’t spoken much during the entire trip to London and after they are more or less settled the situation doesn’t change, but Desmond doesn’t pressure him. It’s not like he doesn’t know and it hurts just to think about it. After all he has the love of his life still; he surely didn’t have to bury her and if his head starts to think that way he can only hope to die before Penny does.
Desmond still can’t place how straight Sayid’s hair is now, it just doesn’t feel like him and he couldn’t avoid thinking about it since he met him again, before going back a year ago. He still wears those sort of formal clothes that Desmond can’t really place him in, even if he doesn’t have them ironed. He just walks around the house like he is a ghost; he has started reading at least five different books in a week and hasn’t finished one, sometimes Desmond sees his hands shaking out of control. He thinks he heard some noise from Sayid’s room about five days after they were there and he hadn’t liked it a bit.
After a week they might have exchanged conversation for maybe ten minutes’ worth and while Desmond tells Penny each evening that things are going fine, they aren’t.
He feels like Sayid is a sort of bloody time bomb and that it’s going to explode sooner or later. He also doesn’t think this is a good way of coping with anything he’s trying to cope with.
That’s when he remembers the second night on the freighter. The first, they had spent it talking about serious matters (more on Desmond’s part to be honest), the second about things which were petty to say the best of it. He especially remembers a bit of conversation that he thinks might just come handy right now.
So, brother, what’s the first thing you’d eat in the real world?
Surely not lima beans.
Well, you’d have gone mighty crazy if you did.
I would not doubt it. Well, I think I could take a trip to Italy just for one thing I had there once.
What?
Hazelnut ice cream with hot espresso poured over.
That sounds quite tasty.
Believe me, you would not know how good it is until you try it.
Desmond figures that he hasn’t had one after all. The circumstances of their return were probably enough to put such plans in the rear, but as he sees Sayid taking his head into his hands after throwing another book across the living room, he thinks that he has to do something.
--
Thankfully three years on hatch coffee duty have taught him something about how to make it the Italian way; one morning, after he’s back from buying food (of course Sayid had barely acknowledged his wave while he closed the door), firstly he goes to some Italian food shop and gets a pack of coffee (which costs three times than the one he usually buys but bloody hell, he has some money to spend now, right?). Then he stops at a pretty good ice cream parlor near there which he figures is nothing like the real deal but will have to do. He buys two pounds of hazelnut ice cream and stocks them in the freezer, thinking that it would just do for dinner.
He retreats into the kitchen some time after six, leaving Sayid to watch some news as he always does at that hour; then he opens the espresso pack, carefully fills the coffee pot, aware of not overdoing the water, and puts it on the stove, waiting for the coffee to be ready.
He drinks a bit of it when it’s ready just to see if it’s as strong as he had hoped; it is. Then Desmond leaves the flame at the minimum under the pot while he fetches a couple of nice white bowls and a couple of spoons. The more time passes the more he thinks it’s quite a stupid idea, but well, if it doesn’t work he’s just going to eat his share and see for himself if it’s really that good.
He takes the ice-cream out of the freezer, lets it be in the open for a minute or two until it’s not too hard; then drops two generous spoonfuls in each bowl, closes the fire under the coffee pot and profusely pours espresso in both of the bowls.
Dark brown mixes with a lighter one and the hot liquid runs over a couple of real nuts that were in the ice-cream already; Desmond carefully places the two spoons in the bowls and lets out a breath of relief when he doesn’t hear the BBC news as he is out of the door. Sayid is still sitting on the couch, looking down at his hands, hair covering his face almost completely; Desmond figures it’s either now or never.
“What about some dinner, brother?” he asks casually enough, knowing that he will probably get a refusal. Sayid never eats in the evenings.
“I’d rather not, thank you.”
Polite but detached, as usual.
“Well, I think you might just like this one.”
He doesn’t wait for permission and sits next to Sayid on the couch, placing the ice cream bowl in front of him on the small table; he almost wants to laugh when Sayid turns his head and looks at him with a completely surprised expression that Desmond didn’t even think him capable of doing. Sayid didn’t seem one that could get surprised by many things, after all.
“What does this mean?” Sayid asks, his voice barely audible.
“Means that my head might've been a wee bit fucked up on the freighter, but I do remember a couple of things. So, are you lettin’ it melt or will you just try it already?” he answers, eating a bit of his and bloody hell, it’s good indeed. Sayid is definitely one with a nice taste.
Desmond's eyes follow Sayid’s hand, which takes the bowl slightly shaking but then becomes firm when he has it in his grip. He takes the spoon and lightly scrapes the surface of the ice cream, then he dips it in and brings the spoon back to his mouth while keeping his eyes closed.
Desmond takes another portion himself, a nut cracking between his teeth, the contrast between the cold sweetness of the ice-cream and the burning bitterness of the black coffee leaving a print in his throat and on his tongue. God, he really gets why Sayid likes this so much.
He looks back at Sayid again and can’t help a small smile when he sees that he’s already at half of the bowl. So much for not enjoying something, he thinks taking another portion to his lips.
They eat in companionable silence for maybe five minutes, Sayid finishing the bowl before he does; for once, it doesn’t feel weird or awkward. When Desmond finishes his, too, he is surprised of how insecure but earnest Sayid’s voice sounds.
“Thank you.”
Nothing more, but enough.
“My pleasure.”, he answers, and that’s true. It’s what comes after that surprises him, especially if combined with Sayid looking utterly embarrassed. Today is the day of discoveries, probably.
“Would it be stretching it out too much if I asked you whether you have more of that?”
Desmond bites back the laugh that threatens to come out of his lips, afraid that it might sound offensive, then stands up.
“Well, I think I just might have to do more coffee, but aye, I have more. One pound and three quarters or so. Care to join me, brother?” he asks, heading to the kitchen, aware that the answer might be no. But Sayid stands up and follows him indeed.
He waits for Desmond to prepare another pot; when it’s done, Desmond decides to screw it already and pours the coffee directly in the tray where the ice cream is. Then takes two bigger spoons and asks whether consuming the whole of it in front of the latest Doctor Who is an option Sayid would consider. Sayid replies that he hasn’t watched that show since he was in England fifteen years before on re-runs and Desmond says that he frankly never understood it and pretty much hates whatever deals with time-travel, but why not?
Sayid shakes his head and then nods, a small smile suddenly appearing on his lips for a couple of seconds; Desmond decides that it’s enough of a result to stand sitting through Doctor Who.
So they go back on the couch, knees touching, the ice cream tray resting on their thighs; after a while, when the ice cream merges into more or less one thing with the coffee, Desmond finds it impossible to distinguish the coffee from the hazelnut. While it tastes strange, it’s good nonetheless and anyway Sayid still dips his spoon eagerly into the tray. No complaining here.
When it’s almost over, both of their spoons clash against each other while aiming for the last bit left in a corner; the look at each other for a couple of seconds both completely embarrassed before Desmond has to laugh because he can’t really hold it and to his surprise Sayid follows soon after, not loudly but a real laugh nonetheless, Doctor Who completely forgotten.
“You can have that.”, says Desmond while putting his spoon away on the table.
“Oh, no, please have it yourself. I have had enough already..”
“Brother, you have it.”
The target wasn’t really for me to finish this, he thinks while Sayid shakes his head.
“Really, it has been more than enough and...”
Desmond knows that it’s not really something he should do, maybe it would be going too far, but if he managed to snap Sayid out of his brooding until now, maybe this would make him snap definitely out of it. He picks up the latest of the ice cream in a swift motion and before Sayid can end the sentence he pushes the spoon between his lips, slowly taking it away when he’s sure that it’s going to come out clean.
“Sorry,” he adds just after, “I really wasn’t thinkin’ and...”
Sayid’s hand is suddenly on his knee and he doesn’t look angry, not really. There’s a soft edge in the way he’s looking at him and Desmond doesn’t remember seeing such a look on him if not for the pic of his wedding that he had seen on a tabloid while he was with Penny in Mexico or wherever it was.
“It’s alright. Just... thanks.”
His voice is low, soft, barely audible over the blathering of the television; Desmond shuts it off and leaves the empty tray on the table. He’s about to answer when the next sentence chills him to the bone.
“I still cannot get why you do this, though.”
He doesn’t really need an explanation and he’d be tempted to punch Sayid, but he doesn’t. He can see where he comes from, he can see it just fine.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
Sayid shrugs and it’s such a resigned gesture that Desmond feels a shiver running through his spine.
“You know,” Sayid says, and Desmond knows exactly what he’s talking about. “So why?”
Desmond takes a breath and figures that it’s better to tell the truth. After all, there was a reason for which he hadn’t flinched that much when he had known what Sayid had been up to during the last year and a half and for which he felt sick while thinking about it (and it was why he didn’t actually think about it often).
“Well, if it had been her I’d have done just the same.”
Sayid nods and there’s silence, after; Desmond’s hand goes to his shoulder, lightly squeezing it.
“She wouldn’t have wanted this,” he blurts out at one point. Not that he has ever met Nadia or anything, he just knows. Penny wouldn’t have wanted it for him, if the cards had been reversed.
“I know.”
Nothing more, but Desmond feels Sayid’s voice slightly cracking.
“Then sodding stop it. You still have a life, don’t you?”
“Do I?” he answers only partially joking.
“Aye, you do. Believe me, you do. I think I know what not havin’ a life means, brother. I think I just know.”
Sayid doesn’t answer back and it’s enough. When Desmond brings an arm around his shoulders he just leans in and Desmond doesn’t say anything as they stay like this, his fingers slightly brushing a few too smooth strands while Sayid’s head rests against his neck. It’s fine, he thinks. Just fine. Maybe half an hour passes before he speaks again.
“Sayid?”
“Yes?”
“What about gettin’ some of that in some proper ice cream parlor tomorrow?”
He braces himself, ready for a negative response. A few seconds of silence pass, but then he has it and it’s not negative at all.
“Why not? I would.... I would love it.”
Desmond nods and doesn’t say anything else. But something tells him that before Penny is back things could take a pretty good turn.
End.
Title: In Repair
Rating: PG13 to be sure
Pairing: very platonic Desmond/Sayid
Words: 2400
Summary: He doesn’t wait for permission and sits next to Sayid on the couch, placing the ice cream bowl in front of him on the small table; he almost wants to laugh when Sayid turns his head and looks at him with a completely surprised expression that Desmond didn’t even think him capable of doing. Sayid didn’t seem one that could get surprised by many things, after all.
Spoilers: up to the S4 finale.
Disclaimer: ha, not mine. I doubt it'll end so well for both of them.
A/N: queen
astra2104 at lostsquee asked for ice, for which I tried like, three different plots but wouldn't work. Then I had the idea and it wanted to be for my second closeted OTP, which I hope the Queen will enjoy nonetheless ;) using for lostpicksix #22, domestic bliss, even if it's a very twisted domestic bliss. Title stolen from John Mayer and I swear it took more to find it than to write the whole thing.Penny had kept her old apartment in London just for a back up and it hasn’t been used in years, but it’s big enough for two and Desmond still is kind of surprised that Sayid has accepted to go and stay with him for at least that month when he asked, after they were back from the island for good.
After all, everyone else had somewhere to go and someone to go with (Sun with Jin, Juliet with Jack, Sawyer with Hurley, Claire with Kate); Penny had to go for a month in Seoul to discuss with Sun of a way to merge both of their deceased fathers’ companies and Desmond hadn’t been able to bear the sight of Sayid standing alone in the lobby of the airport, checking for flights without having an idea of where to go.
Also, he thought he had seen Charlie eying Sayid and then him quite badly before giving him a thumbs up and disappearing. While, since he hadn’t talked, it might have been the only time he really did hallucinate Charlie in two years of visits, Desmond figured it was just a sign that he should just try to at least pay him back for both that call so much time ago and for not following Ben’s order regarding Penny much more recently.
Sayid hadn’t spoken much during the entire trip to London and after they are more or less settled the situation doesn’t change, but Desmond doesn’t pressure him. It’s not like he doesn’t know and it hurts just to think about it. After all he has the love of his life still; he surely didn’t have to bury her and if his head starts to think that way he can only hope to die before Penny does.
Desmond still can’t place how straight Sayid’s hair is now, it just doesn’t feel like him and he couldn’t avoid thinking about it since he met him again, before going back a year ago. He still wears those sort of formal clothes that Desmond can’t really place him in, even if he doesn’t have them ironed. He just walks around the house like he is a ghost; he has started reading at least five different books in a week and hasn’t finished one, sometimes Desmond sees his hands shaking out of control. He thinks he heard some noise from Sayid’s room about five days after they were there and he hadn’t liked it a bit.
After a week they might have exchanged conversation for maybe ten minutes’ worth and while Desmond tells Penny each evening that things are going fine, they aren’t.
He feels like Sayid is a sort of bloody time bomb and that it’s going to explode sooner or later. He also doesn’t think this is a good way of coping with anything he’s trying to cope with.
That’s when he remembers the second night on the freighter. The first, they had spent it talking about serious matters (more on Desmond’s part to be honest), the second about things which were petty to say the best of it. He especially remembers a bit of conversation that he thinks might just come handy right now.
So, brother, what’s the first thing you’d eat in the real world?
Surely not lima beans.
Well, you’d have gone mighty crazy if you did.
I would not doubt it. Well, I think I could take a trip to Italy just for one thing I had there once.
What?
Hazelnut ice cream with hot espresso poured over.
That sounds quite tasty.
Believe me, you would not know how good it is until you try it.
Desmond figures that he hasn’t had one after all. The circumstances of their return were probably enough to put such plans in the rear, but as he sees Sayid taking his head into his hands after throwing another book across the living room, he thinks that he has to do something.
--
Thankfully three years on hatch coffee duty have taught him something about how to make it the Italian way; one morning, after he’s back from buying food (of course Sayid had barely acknowledged his wave while he closed the door), firstly he goes to some Italian food shop and gets a pack of coffee (which costs three times than the one he usually buys but bloody hell, he has some money to spend now, right?). Then he stops at a pretty good ice cream parlor near there which he figures is nothing like the real deal but will have to do. He buys two pounds of hazelnut ice cream and stocks them in the freezer, thinking that it would just do for dinner.
He retreats into the kitchen some time after six, leaving Sayid to watch some news as he always does at that hour; then he opens the espresso pack, carefully fills the coffee pot, aware of not overdoing the water, and puts it on the stove, waiting for the coffee to be ready.
He drinks a bit of it when it’s ready just to see if it’s as strong as he had hoped; it is. Then Desmond leaves the flame at the minimum under the pot while he fetches a couple of nice white bowls and a couple of spoons. The more time passes the more he thinks it’s quite a stupid idea, but well, if it doesn’t work he’s just going to eat his share and see for himself if it’s really that good.
He takes the ice-cream out of the freezer, lets it be in the open for a minute or two until it’s not too hard; then drops two generous spoonfuls in each bowl, closes the fire under the coffee pot and profusely pours espresso in both of the bowls.
Dark brown mixes with a lighter one and the hot liquid runs over a couple of real nuts that were in the ice-cream already; Desmond carefully places the two spoons in the bowls and lets out a breath of relief when he doesn’t hear the BBC news as he is out of the door. Sayid is still sitting on the couch, looking down at his hands, hair covering his face almost completely; Desmond figures it’s either now or never.
“What about some dinner, brother?” he asks casually enough, knowing that he will probably get a refusal. Sayid never eats in the evenings.
“I’d rather not, thank you.”
Polite but detached, as usual.
“Well, I think you might just like this one.”
He doesn’t wait for permission and sits next to Sayid on the couch, placing the ice cream bowl in front of him on the small table; he almost wants to laugh when Sayid turns his head and looks at him with a completely surprised expression that Desmond didn’t even think him capable of doing. Sayid didn’t seem one that could get surprised by many things, after all.
“What does this mean?” Sayid asks, his voice barely audible.
“Means that my head might've been a wee bit fucked up on the freighter, but I do remember a couple of things. So, are you lettin’ it melt or will you just try it already?” he answers, eating a bit of his and bloody hell, it’s good indeed. Sayid is definitely one with a nice taste.
Desmond's eyes follow Sayid’s hand, which takes the bowl slightly shaking but then becomes firm when he has it in his grip. He takes the spoon and lightly scrapes the surface of the ice cream, then he dips it in and brings the spoon back to his mouth while keeping his eyes closed.
Desmond takes another portion himself, a nut cracking between his teeth, the contrast between the cold sweetness of the ice-cream and the burning bitterness of the black coffee leaving a print in his throat and on his tongue. God, he really gets why Sayid likes this so much.
He looks back at Sayid again and can’t help a small smile when he sees that he’s already at half of the bowl. So much for not enjoying something, he thinks taking another portion to his lips.
They eat in companionable silence for maybe five minutes, Sayid finishing the bowl before he does; for once, it doesn’t feel weird or awkward. When Desmond finishes his, too, he is surprised of how insecure but earnest Sayid’s voice sounds.
“Thank you.”
Nothing more, but enough.
“My pleasure.”, he answers, and that’s true. It’s what comes after that surprises him, especially if combined with Sayid looking utterly embarrassed. Today is the day of discoveries, probably.
“Would it be stretching it out too much if I asked you whether you have more of that?”
Desmond bites back the laugh that threatens to come out of his lips, afraid that it might sound offensive, then stands up.
“Well, I think I just might have to do more coffee, but aye, I have more. One pound and three quarters or so. Care to join me, brother?” he asks, heading to the kitchen, aware that the answer might be no. But Sayid stands up and follows him indeed.
He waits for Desmond to prepare another pot; when it’s done, Desmond decides to screw it already and pours the coffee directly in the tray where the ice cream is. Then takes two bigger spoons and asks whether consuming the whole of it in front of the latest Doctor Who is an option Sayid would consider. Sayid replies that he hasn’t watched that show since he was in England fifteen years before on re-runs and Desmond says that he frankly never understood it and pretty much hates whatever deals with time-travel, but why not?
Sayid shakes his head and then nods, a small smile suddenly appearing on his lips for a couple of seconds; Desmond decides that it’s enough of a result to stand sitting through Doctor Who.
So they go back on the couch, knees touching, the ice cream tray resting on their thighs; after a while, when the ice cream merges into more or less one thing with the coffee, Desmond finds it impossible to distinguish the coffee from the hazelnut. While it tastes strange, it’s good nonetheless and anyway Sayid still dips his spoon eagerly into the tray. No complaining here.
When it’s almost over, both of their spoons clash against each other while aiming for the last bit left in a corner; the look at each other for a couple of seconds both completely embarrassed before Desmond has to laugh because he can’t really hold it and to his surprise Sayid follows soon after, not loudly but a real laugh nonetheless, Doctor Who completely forgotten.
“You can have that.”, says Desmond while putting his spoon away on the table.
“Oh, no, please have it yourself. I have had enough already..”
“Brother, you have it.”
The target wasn’t really for me to finish this, he thinks while Sayid shakes his head.
“Really, it has been more than enough and...”
Desmond knows that it’s not really something he should do, maybe it would be going too far, but if he managed to snap Sayid out of his brooding until now, maybe this would make him snap definitely out of it. He picks up the latest of the ice cream in a swift motion and before Sayid can end the sentence he pushes the spoon between his lips, slowly taking it away when he’s sure that it’s going to come out clean.
“Sorry,” he adds just after, “I really wasn’t thinkin’ and...”
Sayid’s hand is suddenly on his knee and he doesn’t look angry, not really. There’s a soft edge in the way he’s looking at him and Desmond doesn’t remember seeing such a look on him if not for the pic of his wedding that he had seen on a tabloid while he was with Penny in Mexico or wherever it was.
“It’s alright. Just... thanks.”
His voice is low, soft, barely audible over the blathering of the television; Desmond shuts it off and leaves the empty tray on the table. He’s about to answer when the next sentence chills him to the bone.
“I still cannot get why you do this, though.”
He doesn’t really need an explanation and he’d be tempted to punch Sayid, but he doesn’t. He can see where he comes from, he can see it just fine.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
Sayid shrugs and it’s such a resigned gesture that Desmond feels a shiver running through his spine.
“You know,” Sayid says, and Desmond knows exactly what he’s talking about. “So why?”
Desmond takes a breath and figures that it’s better to tell the truth. After all, there was a reason for which he hadn’t flinched that much when he had known what Sayid had been up to during the last year and a half and for which he felt sick while thinking about it (and it was why he didn’t actually think about it often).
“Well, if it had been her I’d have done just the same.”
Sayid nods and there’s silence, after; Desmond’s hand goes to his shoulder, lightly squeezing it.
“She wouldn’t have wanted this,” he blurts out at one point. Not that he has ever met Nadia or anything, he just knows. Penny wouldn’t have wanted it for him, if the cards had been reversed.
“I know.”
Nothing more, but Desmond feels Sayid’s voice slightly cracking.
“Then sodding stop it. You still have a life, don’t you?”
“Do I?” he answers only partially joking.
“Aye, you do. Believe me, you do. I think I know what not havin’ a life means, brother. I think I just know.”
Sayid doesn’t answer back and it’s enough. When Desmond brings an arm around his shoulders he just leans in and Desmond doesn’t say anything as they stay like this, his fingers slightly brushing a few too smooth strands while Sayid’s head rests against his neck. It’s fine, he thinks. Just fine. Maybe half an hour passes before he speaks again.
“Sayid?”
“Yes?”
“What about gettin’ some of that in some proper ice cream parlor tomorrow?”
He braces himself, ready for a negative response. A few seconds of silence pass, but then he has it and it’s not negative at all.
“Why not? I would.... I would love it.”
Desmond nods and doesn’t say anything else. But something tells him that before Penny is back things could take a pretty good turn.
End.
