![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
dustyirish2003.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ficinabottleTitle: Little Moments 1/1 (Pt. 2 of series)
Author: Jen
Pairing: Charlie/Hurley
Rating: PG-13 for language, drug use, slight m/m
Summary: Charlie and Hurley share some moments
Warnings: Language and drug use, drug withdrawal
Disclaimer: ABC owns Lost, I'm making absolutely no profit from this silliness
Feedback: Would absolutely adore it
A/N: Well, I didn't think Hurley had quite had his full say last night, and I was right. *g* This is a continuation of 'Symphony'- it could be read as a stand alone, but the Twinkie comment and the singing aren't gonna make much sense that way. ; ) This is nothing more than a couple of little snatches, written in a rather odd fashion- almost like journal entries, mostly from the way Hurley's seeing things. I'm rather enjoying the view through his eyes. : ) -Jen
Charlie pulled a giant-size Snickers bar from behind his back with great flourish and handed it over to Hurley. "Here ya go, mate. Not a Twinkie, and it might be a little gooey, but I did the best I could. Here's to obsession, yeah?" And with that Charlie shook his own drug out onto his palm, dipped his head and snorted with relish.
Hurley stared at the candy in his hand, disbelieving. When he was ten, he had asked for a new mountain bike for Christmas. He'd waited weeks for the day to arrive, not knowing whether or not 'Santa' would take pity on a sad, overweight kid. Christmas morning had finally come, and Hurley had bounded down the stairs eagerly, praying the entire way. When he got into the living room, he had seen the bike- propped against the tree seemingly in danger of falling over, big red ribbon tied around the handlebars, glittering and gleaming as it never had in the shop window. For the first time in his life Hurley had felt truly loved, like someone really cared about him, had finally paid attention to his needs, had finally *seen* him. That had been his best moment ever.
Up until now.
*********************************************************************************
"Whisper words of wisdom...let it be."
Hurley opened his eyes and smiled as Charlie softly sang the final line.
Without another word, Charlie lay down, pulled the tattered airline blanket around himself, and rolled away. But not before Hurley caught the gleam of tears in his eyes. He saw them through the veil in his own.
Just when he was about to move away, go to his own little sleeping nook, Charlie finally spoke. "Don't want to be alone, not tonight. Stay. Please." He patted the ground next to him and lifted the blanket.
Feeling as if he were in a dream, Hurley lay down, a respectable couple of feet away from Charlie, trembling hand gingerly pulling the covers towards himself. Of course, the distance he had put between them meant that the blanket only covered one half of one arm, but Hurley hardly even noticed. He was too busy trying to calm his heartbeat before myocardial infarction took place.
Charlie craned his head around and looked at Hurley lying there stock still and wide-eyed. "'m not gonna bite, mate. Y' don't have to stay that far away, y' know.", he said quietly, then smiled gently and rolled back over.
Hurley dared to move about six inches closer. Now the blanket reached only mid-way around his back, but that hardly mattered. He was quite sure he wasn't going to be doing any sleeping that night.
A while later, when he was sure Charlie was dead to the world, he scooted a little closer in the blankets, closing his eyes as his thigh just brushed Charlie's. He lay there a long time, just listening to Charlie breathe evenly, before the need overwhelmed him and he brought his hand out and lightly traced Charlie's peaceful face with a finger. Hurley wanted to remember, he wanted to *memorize* the moment so he could keep it for the day when Charlie woke up, realized what he was with, and left.
Hurley's heart nearly stopped in his chest when Charlie's hand raised suddenly towards his. He waited, terrified, for the Brit to get pissed and holler, push him away. But it never happened. Instead, Charlie's fingers closed around his, not pinching or mean, but tenderly squeezing. Charlie lowered their entwined hands, dragging Hurley's down so his lips just ghosted over it, and settled them on his stomach, snuggling back into Hurley a little as he did so, pressing their bodies a bit closer together.
"G'night, mate.", Charlie murmured, drawing Hurley's arm around him a little tighter. "Go t' sleep."
But Hurley didn't, not for a long while. He was afraid Charlie might just disappear.
*********************************************************************************
Hurley accompanied Charlie on his mad jaunt into the jungle, while he searched in vain for overlooked pieces of luggage, hoping beyond hope that there were some prescription drugs in them, something, anything to ease the pain he was experiencing. Charlie tore through the foliage like a man possessed- which is precisely what he was- ripping aside leaves and vines with abandon, paying no heed to insects or snakes or anything else that got in his way. If the monster thing had showed up at that moment in time, Hurley was convinced that Charlie would have killed it with his bare hands, just to prevent it from deterring him in his insane scavenger hunt.
Hurley helped as best he could, but he could hardly keep up with Charlie's relentless pace. Amazingly, Charlie *did* find two abandoned suitcases; one was empty of the things he was looking for, but the other was not. With a shaking hand, Charlie pulled a bottle of medicine out and just held it, for the longest time, eyes closed. Hurley realized, with a deep sadness, that Charlie was afraid to look at the label- this was his final chance. He walked over to where Charlie sat and squatted beside him, putting his hand softly over the Brit's, trying to gently pry his fingers away from the bottle. At first it seemed Charlie wouldn't let it go, but his trembling fingers finally relaxed and he allowed Hurley to take it from his hand. Hurley puzzled over the name for a minute, then pronounced it softly, best he could.
"Amax...amoxi..."
That's all the further he got before a low, agonized moan seemed to tear itself from Charlie's throat and he began rocking back and forth rhythmically. Something died in Hurley's heart as he watched Charlie rock and shake, keening 'Christ...Christ...Christ' over and over like a prayer.
It was at that moment Hurley realized that he had a lot more than just the detox process to worry about with Charlie. There was a very real danger of him waking up one morning to find his friend still and cold beside him, the rivulets of blood on his wrists just beginning to clot and turn a rusty brown.
Hurley wanted to run at this epiphany, wanted to just get up and bolt off into the jungle and never come back. He couldn't watch this, couldn't stand to see Charlie go through this agony. But of course he did not run- instead, he wrapped his large arms around Charlie and held him, as gently as any mother holds her child, rocked with him, cuddled him. After a few moments he realized he had been gently kissing Charlie's hair, again and again, and crooning to him, something nonsensical but comforting. He didn't stop at the realization, however, just kept right on doing it. It was what Charlie needed. And just maybe it was what Hurley himself needed, too.
They stayed like that for what seemed an eternity, then Charlie traded his holy mantra for another one, no less disturbing. "I'm fucked...I'm fucked....I'm fucked" repeated on a loop through the quiet jungle.
Finally, he pulled away a little from Hurley's arms and looked up to him. Charlie's eyes were those of a corpse- flat and lifeless. His voice was much the same. "Give those to Jack. He may need them to help someone else." He indicated the bottle with a trembling hand. "Go on, mate. Do it now. Leave me."
"No way, dude. No fuckin' way. I'm staying. I'm staying, Charlie." They both knew he was talking about much more than just crouching there in the underbrush with Charlie during that horrible afternoon.
"Are you sure, mate?" Charlie's voice was wavering, disbelieving, but it had also lost that terrible dead quality.
Hurley smiled; it was sick, but genuine. He whispered into Charlie's hair, "I'm sure, dude. Totally sure."
And as the sun sank below the horizon, even as Charlie's soft pleas became agonized, desperate screams, Hurley realized he had meant every word. He'd never been more sure of anything in his life.
End.
Author: Jen
Pairing: Charlie/Hurley
Rating: PG-13 for language, drug use, slight m/m
Summary: Charlie and Hurley share some moments
Warnings: Language and drug use, drug withdrawal
Disclaimer: ABC owns Lost, I'm making absolutely no profit from this silliness
Feedback: Would absolutely adore it
A/N: Well, I didn't think Hurley had quite had his full say last night, and I was right. *g* This is a continuation of 'Symphony'- it could be read as a stand alone, but the Twinkie comment and the singing aren't gonna make much sense that way. ; ) This is nothing more than a couple of little snatches, written in a rather odd fashion- almost like journal entries, mostly from the way Hurley's seeing things. I'm rather enjoying the view through his eyes. : ) -Jen
Charlie pulled a giant-size Snickers bar from behind his back with great flourish and handed it over to Hurley. "Here ya go, mate. Not a Twinkie, and it might be a little gooey, but I did the best I could. Here's to obsession, yeah?" And with that Charlie shook his own drug out onto his palm, dipped his head and snorted with relish.
Hurley stared at the candy in his hand, disbelieving. When he was ten, he had asked for a new mountain bike for Christmas. He'd waited weeks for the day to arrive, not knowing whether or not 'Santa' would take pity on a sad, overweight kid. Christmas morning had finally come, and Hurley had bounded down the stairs eagerly, praying the entire way. When he got into the living room, he had seen the bike- propped against the tree seemingly in danger of falling over, big red ribbon tied around the handlebars, glittering and gleaming as it never had in the shop window. For the first time in his life Hurley had felt truly loved, like someone really cared about him, had finally paid attention to his needs, had finally *seen* him. That had been his best moment ever.
Up until now.
*********************************************************************************
"Whisper words of wisdom...let it be."
Hurley opened his eyes and smiled as Charlie softly sang the final line.
Without another word, Charlie lay down, pulled the tattered airline blanket around himself, and rolled away. But not before Hurley caught the gleam of tears in his eyes. He saw them through the veil in his own.
Just when he was about to move away, go to his own little sleeping nook, Charlie finally spoke. "Don't want to be alone, not tonight. Stay. Please." He patted the ground next to him and lifted the blanket.
Feeling as if he were in a dream, Hurley lay down, a respectable couple of feet away from Charlie, trembling hand gingerly pulling the covers towards himself. Of course, the distance he had put between them meant that the blanket only covered one half of one arm, but Hurley hardly even noticed. He was too busy trying to calm his heartbeat before myocardial infarction took place.
Charlie craned his head around and looked at Hurley lying there stock still and wide-eyed. "'m not gonna bite, mate. Y' don't have to stay that far away, y' know.", he said quietly, then smiled gently and rolled back over.
Hurley dared to move about six inches closer. Now the blanket reached only mid-way around his back, but that hardly mattered. He was quite sure he wasn't going to be doing any sleeping that night.
A while later, when he was sure Charlie was dead to the world, he scooted a little closer in the blankets, closing his eyes as his thigh just brushed Charlie's. He lay there a long time, just listening to Charlie breathe evenly, before the need overwhelmed him and he brought his hand out and lightly traced Charlie's peaceful face with a finger. Hurley wanted to remember, he wanted to *memorize* the moment so he could keep it for the day when Charlie woke up, realized what he was with, and left.
Hurley's heart nearly stopped in his chest when Charlie's hand raised suddenly towards his. He waited, terrified, for the Brit to get pissed and holler, push him away. But it never happened. Instead, Charlie's fingers closed around his, not pinching or mean, but tenderly squeezing. Charlie lowered their entwined hands, dragging Hurley's down so his lips just ghosted over it, and settled them on his stomach, snuggling back into Hurley a little as he did so, pressing their bodies a bit closer together.
"G'night, mate.", Charlie murmured, drawing Hurley's arm around him a little tighter. "Go t' sleep."
But Hurley didn't, not for a long while. He was afraid Charlie might just disappear.
*********************************************************************************
Hurley accompanied Charlie on his mad jaunt into the jungle, while he searched in vain for overlooked pieces of luggage, hoping beyond hope that there were some prescription drugs in them, something, anything to ease the pain he was experiencing. Charlie tore through the foliage like a man possessed- which is precisely what he was- ripping aside leaves and vines with abandon, paying no heed to insects or snakes or anything else that got in his way. If the monster thing had showed up at that moment in time, Hurley was convinced that Charlie would have killed it with his bare hands, just to prevent it from deterring him in his insane scavenger hunt.
Hurley helped as best he could, but he could hardly keep up with Charlie's relentless pace. Amazingly, Charlie *did* find two abandoned suitcases; one was empty of the things he was looking for, but the other was not. With a shaking hand, Charlie pulled a bottle of medicine out and just held it, for the longest time, eyes closed. Hurley realized, with a deep sadness, that Charlie was afraid to look at the label- this was his final chance. He walked over to where Charlie sat and squatted beside him, putting his hand softly over the Brit's, trying to gently pry his fingers away from the bottle. At first it seemed Charlie wouldn't let it go, but his trembling fingers finally relaxed and he allowed Hurley to take it from his hand. Hurley puzzled over the name for a minute, then pronounced it softly, best he could.
"Amax...amoxi..."
That's all the further he got before a low, agonized moan seemed to tear itself from Charlie's throat and he began rocking back and forth rhythmically. Something died in Hurley's heart as he watched Charlie rock and shake, keening 'Christ...Christ...Christ' over and over like a prayer.
It was at that moment Hurley realized that he had a lot more than just the detox process to worry about with Charlie. There was a very real danger of him waking up one morning to find his friend still and cold beside him, the rivulets of blood on his wrists just beginning to clot and turn a rusty brown.
Hurley wanted to run at this epiphany, wanted to just get up and bolt off into the jungle and never come back. He couldn't watch this, couldn't stand to see Charlie go through this agony. But of course he did not run- instead, he wrapped his large arms around Charlie and held him, as gently as any mother holds her child, rocked with him, cuddled him. After a few moments he realized he had been gently kissing Charlie's hair, again and again, and crooning to him, something nonsensical but comforting. He didn't stop at the realization, however, just kept right on doing it. It was what Charlie needed. And just maybe it was what Hurley himself needed, too.
They stayed like that for what seemed an eternity, then Charlie traded his holy mantra for another one, no less disturbing. "I'm fucked...I'm fucked....I'm fucked" repeated on a loop through the quiet jungle.
Finally, he pulled away a little from Hurley's arms and looked up to him. Charlie's eyes were those of a corpse- flat and lifeless. His voice was much the same. "Give those to Jack. He may need them to help someone else." He indicated the bottle with a trembling hand. "Go on, mate. Do it now. Leave me."
"No way, dude. No fuckin' way. I'm staying. I'm staying, Charlie." They both knew he was talking about much more than just crouching there in the underbrush with Charlie during that horrible afternoon.
"Are you sure, mate?" Charlie's voice was wavering, disbelieving, but it had also lost that terrible dead quality.
Hurley smiled; it was sick, but genuine. He whispered into Charlie's hair, "I'm sure, dude. Totally sure."
And as the sun sank below the horizon, even as Charlie's soft pleas became agonized, desperate screams, Hurley realized he had meant every word. He'd never been more sure of anything in his life.
End.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-11-01 04:02 am (UTC)even as Charlie's soft pleas became agonized, desperate screams, Hurley realized he had meant every word.
By far my favorite line of the entire story.
no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 10:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-01 02:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 10:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-02 05:02 pm (UTC)Also, yeah, I have a friend who does smack and she was all, wtF? Why isn't Charlie rifling through luggage looking for any type of pain killers? That's the *first* thing *I* would be doing... So, good on ya for the accurate portrayal of what a hard drug addict would be doing in his "spare time."
Looking forward to more from you. This is great! =D
no subject
Date: 2004-11-03 10:47 pm (UTC)And, yeah, what Charlie's doing in the fic is exactly what *I'd* be doing, too- your friend's spot-on there. Lol
Thanks again for the kind words! : )