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greenstickered2013-06-14 02:36 am
camalyng) wrote in greenstickered2013-06-14 02:36 am
Uncharted: light up, light up (I'll be right beside you, dear)
Title: light up, light up (I'll be right beside you, dear)
What: Uncharted fanfiction - oneshot
Rating: G
Words: ~1100
Summary: Chloe's relationship with fireworks is complicated. Charlie's relationship with Chloe, not quite as much.
Notes: Title from "Run" by Snow Patrol. This erupted out of another fic when I realized it could stand on its own if I showed the firework scenes separately rather than skimmed them in a throwaway paragraph, and the event list was inspired by the cute mental image of Chloe and Charlie watching Guy Fawkes fireworks on a hill somewhere colliding with my PTSD!Chloe headcanon. Oops. Thank you to![[tumblr.com profile]](https://www.tumblr.com/favicon.ico)
andthentheyran for the Auspick on the original version, which mistakenly had the Guy Fawkes fireworks set in Melbourne.
It's July 4th, they're in California, and Charlie's contact mentions the fireworks display. Charlie, enjoying the irony of an Englishman going to a celebration of freedom from British colonization, suggests they go along; Chloe's all eagerness and, "Fireworks are lovely. Let's see if the Yankees screwed them up."
So they head to the wharf, Charlie pretending he's not staring at Chloe in her bikini, open shirt, and tiny shorts, Chloe pretending she doesn't notice let alone enjoy the attention. He gets them ice cream and hotdogs, she gets them a good seat, and together they wait out the sunset.
When the first firework goes off, Chloe falls silent and doesn't move. Charlie, thinking she's simply entranced by the display, doesn't realize anything's wrong until he asks if she wants to go home and she doesn't answer.
"Chloe? You alright?"
"American fireworks are awful," she mumbles eventually, and she bursts into tears.
They're on home turf in London on New Year's Eve, finishing up a job around firework time. Chloe swears up and down that the Fourth of July was just a mishap and she loves fireworks, but when her face falls at the first explosion and Charlie reaches for her shoulder, she breaks his wrist.
"Things got a bit rowdy down at the pub," Charlie lies at A and E, with Chloe mortified at his side and apologizing every time they're alone.
He's starting to wise up. When Nathan 'Florida Resident' Drake drags them to Disney World because he can't believe they've never been, Charlie carefully times the rides they go on so that he can nudge Chloe some time before the fireworks show and suggest they head back to the hotel, making excuses about jetlag and Floridian humidity tiring him out. Reluctantly, she agrees, and starts putting on a show about having to babysit him.
"Just film it for us, love," he tells Elena, who looks concerned but nods.
In their hotel room, Chloe gets all the pillows off the bed and shuts herself in the closet with them until Charlie knocks on the door some minutes after the fireworks are over. He makes a conscious effort not to ask.
Elena shows them the video the next day and doesn't blink when Chloe mutes the sound on her camera to watch it; indeed, for a moment it looks like she gets it. Even Nate seems to click, because he pats Chloe's knee reassuringly. There's a loop he's being left out of, Charlie realizes.
"I'm not sure it's really my story to tell," says Nate, when he tries to ask later. "We only know because we were there."
"And this story involves explosives," Charlie guesses, because Chloe sometimes has similar kneejerk reactions to blowing things up on the job but was perfectly fine watching the fireworks with the sound off.
"That's all I'm gonna say."
Their Wellington heist goes off so beautifully that Charlie wants to splurge in celebration, and the client pays them on Guy Fawkes. Chloe looks incredibly torn when their waiter points out the date over dinner and informs them that the top floor of the building this pretentiously expensive restaurant is in, which already has beautiful views of the harbor, is a great, private place to watch the city fireworks display from.
"I'm not really into fireworks," she tells the waiter, but she's still looking wistfully out onto the water as they head back to the hotel. It's not until she murmurs, "Hopefully it'll get dark enough for them," that Charlie gets an idea.
"You go on ahead, I'll catch up," he says, and he waves her on when she raises an eyebrow.
He's a few hundred dollars out (and suspecting he's been cheated; the New Zealand economy makes no sense to him) when he turns up at their hotel room with a bag in hand and drags her back out without explanation. She only seems to click when they're back on the street the restaurant's on.
"I can't," she says.
"Trust me," says Charlie.
She's glaring at him as they take the lift to the top floor, and only stops when he hands her a pair of earplugs and tells her to put them on. Her confusion fades into something between wonder and gratitude when he follows that up with a pair of earmuffs.
"For the fireworks," he says, making bursting motions with his hands and pointing out the window, and she kisses him.
It's the first time they've watched fireworks together that doesn't end in tears or injuries, nor start with hiding in closets. Chloe folds her hands over his when he wraps his arms around her, and actually smiles up at him partway through, welcome reassurance that she's okay. This, Charlie thinks, may be his best purchase ever.
Back at their hotel, Charlie's almost dozing off when out of nowhere, Chloe announces, "I grew up in a tourist town," jolting him back into awakeness. She doesn't usually pillow talk, which makes every time she does significant.
"Fireworks every weekend in the summer, at the ends of parades, a huge pyrotechnic contest at the end of autumn; and that's on top of things like Australia Day and New Year's," she murmurs. "I loved it."
She trails a hand slowly down his back. It's very probable she thinks he's asleep, and he won't say a word otherwise, not if it stops her from talking.
"But now I hear one go off and - it doesn't make sense because it sounds so different, but all I can see is someone I cared about with a grenade in his hand. And he didn't throw it, he dropped it."
His wrist, Charlie realizes. She'd twisted it upwards and away from them, as if trying to throw something out of his reach.
"I don't want that to be you," Chloe whispers.
Careful to keep his breathing even, Charlie rolls over and throws an arm over her. For a moment, she stiffens, then she places his arm more neatly around her waist and tucks herself closer to him.
"You know, you were talking in your sleep last night," Charlie says in the departure lounge the next day, and while she was, it's what she said when she was awake that stuck with him.
Cautiously, Chloe glances up from her Kindle.
"Did I say anything interesting?" she says, a little too sharp to be casual.
"Beats me: It was mostly in French. Which was plenty interesting in itself, mind," he adds, with a joking leer that makes her laugh and more importantly, makes her relax.
"But that's not gonna be me," he says. "Dropping things."
Chloe stares hard at him.
"Good morning, passengers, Qantas Airways flight 162 to Sydney is now boarding passengers seated in rows sixty-six through eighty-six."
Charlie stands, offering her a hand.
"Looks like that's us, then," he says, and finally, she smiles.
What: Uncharted fanfiction - oneshot
Rating: G
Words: ~1100
Summary: Chloe's relationship with fireworks is complicated. Charlie's relationship with Chloe, not quite as much.
Notes: Title from "Run" by Snow Patrol. This erupted out of another fic when I realized it could stand on its own if I showed the firework scenes separately rather than skimmed them in a throwaway paragraph, and the event list was inspired by the cute mental image of Chloe and Charlie watching Guy Fawkes fireworks on a hill somewhere colliding with my PTSD!Chloe headcanon. Oops. Thank you to
It's July 4th, they're in California, and Charlie's contact mentions the fireworks display. Charlie, enjoying the irony of an Englishman going to a celebration of freedom from British colonization, suggests they go along; Chloe's all eagerness and, "Fireworks are lovely. Let's see if the Yankees screwed them up."
So they head to the wharf, Charlie pretending he's not staring at Chloe in her bikini, open shirt, and tiny shorts, Chloe pretending she doesn't notice let alone enjoy the attention. He gets them ice cream and hotdogs, she gets them a good seat, and together they wait out the sunset.
When the first firework goes off, Chloe falls silent and doesn't move. Charlie, thinking she's simply entranced by the display, doesn't realize anything's wrong until he asks if she wants to go home and she doesn't answer.
"Chloe? You alright?"
"American fireworks are awful," she mumbles eventually, and she bursts into tears.
They're on home turf in London on New Year's Eve, finishing up a job around firework time. Chloe swears up and down that the Fourth of July was just a mishap and she loves fireworks, but when her face falls at the first explosion and Charlie reaches for her shoulder, she breaks his wrist.
"Things got a bit rowdy down at the pub," Charlie lies at A and E, with Chloe mortified at his side and apologizing every time they're alone.
He's starting to wise up. When Nathan 'Florida Resident' Drake drags them to Disney World because he can't believe they've never been, Charlie carefully times the rides they go on so that he can nudge Chloe some time before the fireworks show and suggest they head back to the hotel, making excuses about jetlag and Floridian humidity tiring him out. Reluctantly, she agrees, and starts putting on a show about having to babysit him.
"Just film it for us, love," he tells Elena, who looks concerned but nods.
In their hotel room, Chloe gets all the pillows off the bed and shuts herself in the closet with them until Charlie knocks on the door some minutes after the fireworks are over. He makes a conscious effort not to ask.
Elena shows them the video the next day and doesn't blink when Chloe mutes the sound on her camera to watch it; indeed, for a moment it looks like she gets it. Even Nate seems to click, because he pats Chloe's knee reassuringly. There's a loop he's being left out of, Charlie realizes.
"I'm not sure it's really my story to tell," says Nate, when he tries to ask later. "We only know because we were there."
"And this story involves explosives," Charlie guesses, because Chloe sometimes has similar kneejerk reactions to blowing things up on the job but was perfectly fine watching the fireworks with the sound off.
"That's all I'm gonna say."
Their Wellington heist goes off so beautifully that Charlie wants to splurge in celebration, and the client pays them on Guy Fawkes. Chloe looks incredibly torn when their waiter points out the date over dinner and informs them that the top floor of the building this pretentiously expensive restaurant is in, which already has beautiful views of the harbor, is a great, private place to watch the city fireworks display from.
"I'm not really into fireworks," she tells the waiter, but she's still looking wistfully out onto the water as they head back to the hotel. It's not until she murmurs, "Hopefully it'll get dark enough for them," that Charlie gets an idea.
"You go on ahead, I'll catch up," he says, and he waves her on when she raises an eyebrow.
He's a few hundred dollars out (and suspecting he's been cheated; the New Zealand economy makes no sense to him) when he turns up at their hotel room with a bag in hand and drags her back out without explanation. She only seems to click when they're back on the street the restaurant's on.
"I can't," she says.
"Trust me," says Charlie.
She's glaring at him as they take the lift to the top floor, and only stops when he hands her a pair of earplugs and tells her to put them on. Her confusion fades into something between wonder and gratitude when he follows that up with a pair of earmuffs.
"For the fireworks," he says, making bursting motions with his hands and pointing out the window, and she kisses him.
It's the first time they've watched fireworks together that doesn't end in tears or injuries, nor start with hiding in closets. Chloe folds her hands over his when he wraps his arms around her, and actually smiles up at him partway through, welcome reassurance that she's okay. This, Charlie thinks, may be his best purchase ever.
Back at their hotel, Charlie's almost dozing off when out of nowhere, Chloe announces, "I grew up in a tourist town," jolting him back into awakeness. She doesn't usually pillow talk, which makes every time she does significant.
"Fireworks every weekend in the summer, at the ends of parades, a huge pyrotechnic contest at the end of autumn; and that's on top of things like Australia Day and New Year's," she murmurs. "I loved it."
She trails a hand slowly down his back. It's very probable she thinks he's asleep, and he won't say a word otherwise, not if it stops her from talking.
"But now I hear one go off and - it doesn't make sense because it sounds so different, but all I can see is someone I cared about with a grenade in his hand. And he didn't throw it, he dropped it."
His wrist, Charlie realizes. She'd twisted it upwards and away from them, as if trying to throw something out of his reach.
"I don't want that to be you," Chloe whispers.
Careful to keep his breathing even, Charlie rolls over and throws an arm over her. For a moment, she stiffens, then she places his arm more neatly around her waist and tucks herself closer to him.
"You know, you were talking in your sleep last night," Charlie says in the departure lounge the next day, and while she was, it's what she said when she was awake that stuck with him.
Cautiously, Chloe glances up from her Kindle.
"Did I say anything interesting?" she says, a little too sharp to be casual.
"Beats me: It was mostly in French. Which was plenty interesting in itself, mind," he adds, with a joking leer that makes her laugh and more importantly, makes her relax.
"But that's not gonna be me," he says. "Dropping things."
Chloe stares hard at him.
"Good morning, passengers, Qantas Airways flight 162 to Sydney is now boarding passengers seated in rows sixty-six through eighty-six."
Charlie stands, offering her a hand.
"Looks like that's us, then," he says, and finally, she smiles.
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Charlie's a smart guy and I got the impression from UC3 that he kind of just goes with his friends' quirks (he never questions Drake being Nate's ancestor even though he's probably done the "Drake had no kids" research). When that quirk is Chloe's and it's getting her genuinely upset, he is absolutely going to be considerate of it.