|Drache-Königin (edincoat) wrote in makrothumia,|
@ 2009-01-11 04:04:00
|Entry tags:||ff-fandom: without a trace, ff-length: 500 to 1k, ff-rating: all, ff-type: slash|
wat/ between the known and the unknown
Title: between the known and the unknown
Author: Kjata (makrothumia)
Characters & Pairings: Martin Fitzgerald & Danny Taylor
Fandom: Without A Trace
Rating & Warnings: G, more WAFF, omfg.
Theme & Community: August 7th 08, Somewhere just left of the point of nowhere., 31_days
Disclaimer: Characters, Setting, and Original Content that this fic is based upon belongs to those who own them - Namely, anyone but me.
Original Post: here
There are certain things that he knows that Danny doesn't like people knowing about him. Just little quirks, nothing big and fancy and bright shiny new, but enough somethings that suggest that perhaps he has been watching his partner a little too much lately.
Like now, when he just notices that Danny is yet again tapping his feet to a beat only he can hear.
Once upon a time, when he first came upon the knowledge that Danny Taylor was apparently never still not even for a moment, he tried to figure out the source of the music, because maybe the Special Agent just has really good hearing or something.
Eventually--after three years, actually--he gave up and just accepted that what was probably his best friend was a little weird around the edges.
It doesn't stop him from only paying attention to Jack with half-assed effort, and keeping an eye on the tapping toes of black polished shoes. Driving out upstate, somewhere he can ask Danny about later, and Martin and Danny head out.
He starts upwards with a jerk, and keeps his eyes averted from the smug expression he knows is on Danny's face.
Yet another one of the things that Danny doesn't like anyone but Martin knowing about is his tendency to burst out into song at the drop of a hat. And it isn't like he’s a bad singer--"My Latin roots prohibit bad vocal cords," Danny had explained when he commented on his skill not too long ago--but his inattention to the correct words of whatever song he chooses to sing is a little grating.
Like now, where he is going on about owls and their concern of the high gas prices.
"You know, normally I can tell which song you're slaughtering," he says over a high note related to the owls forming a protest with the squirrels. "But this time, I'm lost."
Danny leans back in the car seat, laces his fingers behind his head, and grins. "And you expect me to know?"
It is a good thing that they've halted at a stop light, because he doesn't think that tapping his head on the steering wheel would be very safe otherwise.
"So, any other quirks I should know about?" he asks as they sit in traffic, so close yet so far from the man they need to question. A pile-up on the main road with no turn-offs in sight keeps the car crawling, but just barely, and he is holding his hands very still so he doesn't start drumming them on the steering wheel. So that he doesn't start acting like the man in the car next to him.
Danny stops his musical rendition of some pop song from the top forty chart on the dashboard and tilts his head to look over at the driver-side seat. "Probably."
He nods, and goes back to making sure he doesn't join in on the slow wearing down of the sound barrier inside this car.
The lead was a bust, and he draws the short stick and calls Jack to report. The angry curse that carries softly over through the headset sounds suspiciously like Sam when Jack repeats the information, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise, looks over at Danny's questioning glance and mouths "Samantha swears?"
Danny mouths back "You have no idea."
"All right, Martin? You and Danny stay there for a few minutes, we might have another lead in the area. Hang tight and wait for me to call again."
He voices his assent, and closes the phone. "We're stuck here for a while, they're looking for another guy for us to question."
Danny sighs a bit woefully, and leans back against the car's side door. "Pity we can't go to a water park or something."
Water park. Right. "You trying to see me without my shirt on, Taylor?"
"Only doing what you do to me, Fitzgerald," Danny replies with a grin.
He makes a pshaw noise, and leans on the car next to his partner. "You missed your calling with all that music stuff, focus on that disappointment."
Danny bumps their shoulders together, and taps his heel on the asphalt. "Ah, but if I had been a musician, I would've never met you."
Somehow he doubts that. "Nah, we would have met, just not been friends."
"Yeah," the taller man says softly, "not friends."
A stark silence settles around them, and he wonders if maybe he had said something wrong.