Fic: Glasses Part 1 of 4
Glasses Part 1 of 4
Pairing(s) in the story: Jemaine/Bret (Flight of the Conchords)
Author Name/Pen Name: she_burns1
Disclaimer: I do not own Flight of the Conchords, or Hbo, or Bret, or Jemaine…though I will glad take donations of Bret/Jemaine!
Rating of story: PG
Word Count:1,735
Warnings: None - this one’s clean thus far.
Brief summary: Jemaine loses his glasses and Bret lends a hand.
Notes: After the happy responses to my first fic I wrote another! This one is kind-of a sequel to ‘Apples’ but can be read without reading that at all. I also read somewhere that Jemaine is near-sighted. So hopefully that’s true, as I am saying he is in this fic (I am also near-sighted and also need my glasses all the time).
“Bret.”
No answer.
“Bret.”
Still nothing.
“BRET!”
Bret looked up from the television with a frown, expecting to see Jemaine standing over him. However, Jemaine wasn’t in front of him and Bret’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
“Jemaine?”
“Bret,” his voice came again, sounding like it was coming from the bedroom, “Can you come in here a minute?”
Bret’s lips screwed up to one side. He didn’t really want to get up. He was comfortable sitting in his favorite box, watching the infomercials. On the other hand, he was wondering why Jemaine was calling him from the bedroom instead of just coming out to the living room. He thought to voice this aloud, to tell Jemaine to come into the living room instead, but he knew how stubborn his friend could be.
Curiosity eventually won out over comfort and he rose to his feet. He went into the bedroom to find Jemaine standing in front of him, squinting. Bret looked Jemaine over. He still wore the shirt and shorts he had slept in and his hair was a mess, sticking out in certain sections. He leaned back on his heels, “Hey man, you look…different.”
“How so?”
“I dunno…just different.”
“Have you seen my glasses?”
Bret’s eyes widened and he pointed a finger at him, “Ah! Yeah, that’s it! You’re not wearing your glasses.”
“I know,” Jemaine said irritably, “I can’t find them, that’s why I asked you in here. Have you seen them?”
Bret frowned, scratching at the back of his neck idly, “Um, no. No, I haven’t. Have you?”
“What? Why would I ask you if you’ve seen them if I have? If I’d seen them I’d be wearing them and as of right now I don’t see much of anything.”
“That explains the squinting then. Think that makes you look different too.”
Jemaine continued squinting, “Well, I can’t see myself either. Obviously. So I don’t know.”
“Someone woke up a bit grouchy.”
“I get headaches without my glasses,” Jemaine mumbled, rubbing a hand through his hair.
Bret didn’t know why, but the action made Jemaine seem different. Not only did he look different but it was like…he was different. A different Jemaine. A Jemaine that looked kind of helpless. For some reason Bret couldn’t explain, this caused a strange tugging sensation in his chest. He didn’t know what it was or why it was happening and it made him turn a little pink, a weird smile working about his face. He was glad Jemaine couldn’t see it.
“Where did you have them last?”
Jemaine frowned, his eyes squinting more as he thought, “Um…I dunno. Think before I went to bed.”
“Well, are they in your bed?”
“No, checked there.”
“How can you check when you can’t see? Maybe I should double check for you.”
“No, no, trust me. They’re not there. I looked all ready, I’m not blind, I just can’t see anything too far away. Up close I can see well enough.”
“How up close?” Bret walked closer to Jemaine, “This close?”
“No. You’re still a blur. A blobby pink Bret blur.”
Bret turned a darker shade of pink, “I’m not pink.”
“Well, you’re still blurry.”
Bret came closer, “How about now?”
“Nope.”
“Now?”
“Got to come closer.”
Bret was almost on top of Jemaine now; their bodies so close they could feel the heat of the other, their breaths mingling, “How about now?”
Jemaine no longer squinted but he eased back a bit, the tips of his ear turning a little red, “Ah, yes. Can see you clear now.”
Bret didn’t notice how uncomfortable Jemaine was and didn’t move, “Huh, that’s pretty bad then. We need to find your glasses as soon as possible.”
“Right.” Jemaine agreed with a nod, casually moving as far away from Bret as he could.
Bret began searching the bedroom, avoiding Jemaine’s bed as Jemaine sat on it and said it was a waste of time to check there again. Bret looked in the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room and still no luck. With a hopeless sigh he flopped down on his own bed across from Jemaine, “I don’t see them anywhere.”
“Neither do I.” Jemaine remarked, even though he naturally hadn’t been looking.
Bret leaned back on his elbows, thinking, “Maybe we should retrace your footsteps from yesterday. My Mum tells me that’s the best way to find lost things.”
Jemaine crossed his arms, “Yeah. All right. That sounds good.”
Bret sat up, excited. This sounded like it could be fun, “Ok, so, think back to yesterday. Where did you start?”
Jemaine looked around, “I started here.”
“Well, we know they’re not in the flat, so what else did you do?”
“Um…went to Dave’s shop.”
“Ok, good. Let’s go there then.” Bret stood up and looked at Jemaine, who still looked vulnerable with his untidy hair and night clothes, “You better change though.”
“Right.” Jemaine got off the bed and grabbed some clothes from the floor prepared to go change in the bathroom. Bret stopped him though, “Those are my clothes.”
Jemaine frowned and brought the clothes closer to his face for inspection, “Oh. Right. I didn’t think I owned a sweater with a black and orange stripped blob on it.”
“That’s a tiger,” Bret pouted and took it from him, “I love this sweater.”
“Didn’t say it wasn’t nice,” Jemaine pointed out. He couldn’t see Bret’s face but his tone suggested he was pouting. Maybe not having his glasses was heightening his other senses. Jemaine nodded a little to himself at this thought, it would be kind of neat to have a heightened sense of hearing.
Bret sighed, “I better pick out some of your clothes for you.”
Bret started going through Jemaine’s things and had to admit that it was actually kind of fun to pick out what Jemaine would wear. It was like dress up. He hadn’t done that since he was a kid. He could remember putting on his mother’s heels. It was a funny, silly memory but he knew it was best to never tell anyone about that.
He picked out a red shirt and jeans that he thought Jemaine looked really good in. He handed them to him but then a fretful frown began to form, “You, um, you’re not going to-to need help changing are you?”
“What? No,” Jemaine said a little indignantly, “I’m not feeble. I just can’t see well.”
He went and changed in the restroom. When he came out everything seemed to be in order save for the fact that his hair was still sticking out a bit. Bret felt that tugging sensation in his chest again. He was pretty sure it was his heart, but he didn’t want to linger over that too much.
Instead he went over to Jemaine, fighting a grin that was trying to work its way onto his face, “Your hair, man.”
“Hmm?” Jemaine murmured, eyes narrowed, his hand floating up to his head.
“No, wait, I got it.” Bret said and he quickly petted Jemaine’s hair down. He had never really touched Jemaine’s hair. It was nice. Soft. He played with it a little longer than was probably really necessary, then drew away, “All right. You look good. Still different though.”
“In what way?”
“Past the fact you don’t have your glasses and you’re squinty you just…I don’t know. Look different.”
“Same clothes as usual.”
“Yeah, but you look…I don’t know. You been working out?”
“No. Not really.”
“Hmm.” Bret murmured, looking his friend over. Even though he’d fixed his hair and identified the missing glasses now, Jemaine still looked like someone else. He looked…bigger. Tall and muscular. And without his glasses, Bret could see his whole face. Strong jaw, defined cheekbones, nice full lips…
Bret shook his head. Maybe he was the one who was different. He felt a bit…off. He licked his lips, “We should get to Dave’s. You better take my hand.”
“What?” Jemaine asked, startled, “I’m not taking your hand.”
“I think it would be a good idea,” Bret said sensibly, “You can’t see very well. Might walk into something. If you hold my hand, I can anchor you.”
“Nuh-uh, no. Not going to do it. We’ll look weird.”
“We used to hold hands all the time when we first came to America.”
“Yeah, and people thought we looked weird. Remember all those looks we used to get?”
Bret shrugged, “Kept us from getting lost, didn’t it? Besides, you can’t see now, so you won’t be able to see if people make faces at us anyway.”
“Point,” Jemaine muttered, “Still, I can do things myself, you know. I’m not a child. I don’t need to hold your hand.”
Jemaine walked straight to the front door determinedly and reached out a hand for the knob. He missed by several inches. Scowling he bent down closer until his face was almost on top of it. He turned the knob and opened the door, walking out into the hall. Only to smack into the wall opposite him, cursing under his breath.
Bret followed him, walking out and closing their front door behind him, locking it. Jemaine rubbed at his nose, then turned to narrow his eyes at Bret, “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”
“No.”
Again Bret’s tone suggested otherwise. Now Jemaine wasn’t sure how much he enjoyed his heightened hearing. He sighed deeply and held out his hand, “Could you-?”
Bret did grin this time, glad once more that Jemaine couldn’t really see him and took his friend’s hand. It had been a long time since he’d held it, but it felt good. Familiar.
Bret led Jemaine down the elevator and out the building.
Pairing(s) in the story: Jemaine/Bret (Flight of the Conchords)
Author Name/Pen Name: she_burns1
Disclaimer: I do not own Flight of the Conchords, or Hbo, or Bret, or Jemaine…though I will glad take donations of Bret/Jemaine!
Rating of story: PG
Word Count:1,735
Warnings: None - this one’s clean thus far.
Brief summary: Jemaine loses his glasses and Bret lends a hand.
Notes: After the happy responses to my first fic I wrote another! This one is kind-of a sequel to ‘Apples’ but can be read without reading that at all. I also read somewhere that Jemaine is near-sighted. So hopefully that’s true, as I am saying he is in this fic (I am also near-sighted and also need my glasses all the time).
“Bret.”
No answer.
“Bret.”
Still nothing.
“BRET!”
Bret looked up from the television with a frown, expecting to see Jemaine standing over him. However, Jemaine wasn’t in front of him and Bret’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
“Jemaine?”
“Bret,” his voice came again, sounding like it was coming from the bedroom, “Can you come in here a minute?”
Bret’s lips screwed up to one side. He didn’t really want to get up. He was comfortable sitting in his favorite box, watching the infomercials. On the other hand, he was wondering why Jemaine was calling him from the bedroom instead of just coming out to the living room. He thought to voice this aloud, to tell Jemaine to come into the living room instead, but he knew how stubborn his friend could be.
Curiosity eventually won out over comfort and he rose to his feet. He went into the bedroom to find Jemaine standing in front of him, squinting. Bret looked Jemaine over. He still wore the shirt and shorts he had slept in and his hair was a mess, sticking out in certain sections. He leaned back on his heels, “Hey man, you look…different.”
“How so?”
“I dunno…just different.”
“Have you seen my glasses?”
Bret’s eyes widened and he pointed a finger at him, “Ah! Yeah, that’s it! You’re not wearing your glasses.”
“I know,” Jemaine said irritably, “I can’t find them, that’s why I asked you in here. Have you seen them?”
Bret frowned, scratching at the back of his neck idly, “Um, no. No, I haven’t. Have you?”
“What? Why would I ask you if you’ve seen them if I have? If I’d seen them I’d be wearing them and as of right now I don’t see much of anything.”
“That explains the squinting then. Think that makes you look different too.”
Jemaine continued squinting, “Well, I can’t see myself either. Obviously. So I don’t know.”
“Someone woke up a bit grouchy.”
“I get headaches without my glasses,” Jemaine mumbled, rubbing a hand through his hair.
Bret didn’t know why, but the action made Jemaine seem different. Not only did he look different but it was like…he was different. A different Jemaine. A Jemaine that looked kind of helpless. For some reason Bret couldn’t explain, this caused a strange tugging sensation in his chest. He didn’t know what it was or why it was happening and it made him turn a little pink, a weird smile working about his face. He was glad Jemaine couldn’t see it.
“Where did you have them last?”
Jemaine frowned, his eyes squinting more as he thought, “Um…I dunno. Think before I went to bed.”
“Well, are they in your bed?”
“No, checked there.”
“How can you check when you can’t see? Maybe I should double check for you.”
“No, no, trust me. They’re not there. I looked all ready, I’m not blind, I just can’t see anything too far away. Up close I can see well enough.”
“How up close?” Bret walked closer to Jemaine, “This close?”
“No. You’re still a blur. A blobby pink Bret blur.”
Bret turned a darker shade of pink, “I’m not pink.”
“Well, you’re still blurry.”
Bret came closer, “How about now?”
“Nope.”
“Now?”
“Got to come closer.”
Bret was almost on top of Jemaine now; their bodies so close they could feel the heat of the other, their breaths mingling, “How about now?”
Jemaine no longer squinted but he eased back a bit, the tips of his ear turning a little red, “Ah, yes. Can see you clear now.”
Bret didn’t notice how uncomfortable Jemaine was and didn’t move, “Huh, that’s pretty bad then. We need to find your glasses as soon as possible.”
“Right.” Jemaine agreed with a nod, casually moving as far away from Bret as he could.
Bret began searching the bedroom, avoiding Jemaine’s bed as Jemaine sat on it and said it was a waste of time to check there again. Bret looked in the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room and still no luck. With a hopeless sigh he flopped down on his own bed across from Jemaine, “I don’t see them anywhere.”
“Neither do I.” Jemaine remarked, even though he naturally hadn’t been looking.
Bret leaned back on his elbows, thinking, “Maybe we should retrace your footsteps from yesterday. My Mum tells me that’s the best way to find lost things.”
Jemaine crossed his arms, “Yeah. All right. That sounds good.”
Bret sat up, excited. This sounded like it could be fun, “Ok, so, think back to yesterday. Where did you start?”
Jemaine looked around, “I started here.”
“Well, we know they’re not in the flat, so what else did you do?”
“Um…went to Dave’s shop.”
“Ok, good. Let’s go there then.” Bret stood up and looked at Jemaine, who still looked vulnerable with his untidy hair and night clothes, “You better change though.”
“Right.” Jemaine got off the bed and grabbed some clothes from the floor prepared to go change in the bathroom. Bret stopped him though, “Those are my clothes.”
Jemaine frowned and brought the clothes closer to his face for inspection, “Oh. Right. I didn’t think I owned a sweater with a black and orange stripped blob on it.”
“That’s a tiger,” Bret pouted and took it from him, “I love this sweater.”
“Didn’t say it wasn’t nice,” Jemaine pointed out. He couldn’t see Bret’s face but his tone suggested he was pouting. Maybe not having his glasses was heightening his other senses. Jemaine nodded a little to himself at this thought, it would be kind of neat to have a heightened sense of hearing.
Bret sighed, “I better pick out some of your clothes for you.”
Bret started going through Jemaine’s things and had to admit that it was actually kind of fun to pick out what Jemaine would wear. It was like dress up. He hadn’t done that since he was a kid. He could remember putting on his mother’s heels. It was a funny, silly memory but he knew it was best to never tell anyone about that.
He picked out a red shirt and jeans that he thought Jemaine looked really good in. He handed them to him but then a fretful frown began to form, “You, um, you’re not going to-to need help changing are you?”
“What? No,” Jemaine said a little indignantly, “I’m not feeble. I just can’t see well.”
He went and changed in the restroom. When he came out everything seemed to be in order save for the fact that his hair was still sticking out a bit. Bret felt that tugging sensation in his chest again. He was pretty sure it was his heart, but he didn’t want to linger over that too much.
Instead he went over to Jemaine, fighting a grin that was trying to work its way onto his face, “Your hair, man.”
“Hmm?” Jemaine murmured, eyes narrowed, his hand floating up to his head.
“No, wait, I got it.” Bret said and he quickly petted Jemaine’s hair down. He had never really touched Jemaine’s hair. It was nice. Soft. He played with it a little longer than was probably really necessary, then drew away, “All right. You look good. Still different though.”
“In what way?”
“Past the fact you don’t have your glasses and you’re squinty you just…I don’t know. Look different.”
“Same clothes as usual.”
“Yeah, but you look…I don’t know. You been working out?”
“No. Not really.”
“Hmm.” Bret murmured, looking his friend over. Even though he’d fixed his hair and identified the missing glasses now, Jemaine still looked like someone else. He looked…bigger. Tall and muscular. And without his glasses, Bret could see his whole face. Strong jaw, defined cheekbones, nice full lips…
Bret shook his head. Maybe he was the one who was different. He felt a bit…off. He licked his lips, “We should get to Dave’s. You better take my hand.”
“What?” Jemaine asked, startled, “I’m not taking your hand.”
“I think it would be a good idea,” Bret said sensibly, “You can’t see very well. Might walk into something. If you hold my hand, I can anchor you.”
“Nuh-uh, no. Not going to do it. We’ll look weird.”
“We used to hold hands all the time when we first came to America.”
“Yeah, and people thought we looked weird. Remember all those looks we used to get?”
Bret shrugged, “Kept us from getting lost, didn’t it? Besides, you can’t see now, so you won’t be able to see if people make faces at us anyway.”
“Point,” Jemaine muttered, “Still, I can do things myself, you know. I’m not a child. I don’t need to hold your hand.”
Jemaine walked straight to the front door determinedly and reached out a hand for the knob. He missed by several inches. Scowling he bent down closer until his face was almost on top of it. He turned the knob and opened the door, walking out into the hall. Only to smack into the wall opposite him, cursing under his breath.
Bret followed him, walking out and closing their front door behind him, locking it. Jemaine rubbed at his nose, then turned to narrow his eyes at Bret, “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”
“No.”
Again Bret’s tone suggested otherwise. Now Jemaine wasn’t sure how much he enjoyed his heightened hearing. He sighed deeply and held out his hand, “Could you-?”
Bret did grin this time, glad once more that Jemaine couldn’t really see him and took his friend’s hand. It had been a long time since he’d held it, but it felt good. Familiar.
Bret led Jemaine down the elevator and out the building.