The Aftermath
The Aftermath (sequel to Eavesdropping)
Rating: Mature (due to being a continuation of a fic with this rating)
Pairing: Don/OFC, Charlie
Warnings: References to underage sexual activity and incest
Word Count: about 800
Spoilers: None
Note from author: I might write a third part following on from this, exploring why Charlie did what he did in the previous part in a bit more depth. Comments are very much appreciated! :D
I sat back down at my desk, my mind racing. I heard some more shuffling and giggling sounds from the other side of the wall, distracting me entirely from the maths I’d been working on. Damn it, Don. You do something that you know you’re not supposed to do, and you have the audacity to completely disregard that I even exist. Need I mention you’re taking it entirely for granted that I’ll cover for you when dad gets back?
Suddenly realising my trousers were still undone, I zipped them back up and then sat down again. I tried throwing a vague glance in the direction of the page of working I’d written earlier, but then glanced back around the room. I’d lost my workflow, it was far too late now to just dive straight back in to the proof.
Footsteps descended the stairs and soon enough I heard the front door shut.
I couldn’t help but wonder what Don would have done had dad forgotten the keys for real. And what if he’d misjudged how much time the shopping would have taken? Or the time the sex would take, for that matter? It’s not as though there was a great deal of data on the statistics of length of time taken to have sex. He was taking some considerable risks, and honestly it was hard to see why he didn’t just tell dad rather than just go sneaking around behind his back, breaching his trust for no good reason at all. But that was awfully hypocritical coming from me, having just sneaked around listening like a weird little creep.
What had I been doing earlier anyway, jerking off and listening to other people have sex? I barely even knew one of the people involved, and the other person had been my own brother. That was supposed to be wrong, wasn’t it? Siblings were supposed to be a turn off, or at least a no-go with anything linked to sex. The whole situation should never have happened at all. Maybe it was just because I was out of my depth when it came to socialising at school that I never really got a chance to meet girls my own age, which left Don and that cheerleader girlfriend of his as some kind of last resort.
With a sigh, I got up and walked back down the stairs to fetch a glass of water. Perhaps a little hydration would resolve some of my concentration problems. So what if I would have to face Don, I decided sulkily.
I opened the door to the kitchen. Don was standing there, sipping from a glass himself. He glanced up as I entered the the room and then carefully set his glass back down on the counter.
"Don’t tell dad, okay?" Don said, blushing ever so slightly.
I looked downwards, avoiding his gaze, walking past him towards the cupboard where the glasses were kept.
"Charlie?"
"Sure, whatever" I said in a tone that sounded far less casual than I’d been hoping for. Thank goodness I could keep my back turned without arousing any suspicion and just get on with the task of filling the glass with water from the tap.
"I’m serious, please don’t…" Don murmered, perhaps desperately hoping for a more reassuring response that his actions would go unnoticed by dad.
"Why don’t you just tell him you have a girlfriend?" I asked in response, hating the bitterness in my own voice.
Don sighed. "Charlie, do we really need to discuss this? Because you’re not going to tell him and that’s not up for debate. You know he won’t like it that someone came over behind his back. What’s your problem?"
His final question pierced right through me. Don could be so stubborn and defensive sometimes. I stared into the glass in my hands, briefly admiring the distorted image of my own feet that I saw through the water. The refraction of lightwaves was indeed a fascinating phenomenon. But anyway, what exactly was my problem? Even as a last resort, what I’d done had been utterly stupid.
"Fine then, I won’t tell on you" I muttered with resignation, hoping my responses weren’t leading Don to suspect that anything he’d done had had any unexpected side-effects involving me.
The temptation to go on to yell at Don and tell him to stop pretending I don’t exist was almost overwhelming. But that might give away the fact that he’d had an unwanted and jealous listener. I felt a twinge of disgust at myself.
A moment later, the doorbell rang. "Come and help with the groceries, will ya?"