Fic: Glasses Part 2 of 4
Glasses Part 2 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: R - but this is only due to Dave’s dirty mouth! No naked sexiness, sorry :(
Word Count:1,145
Warnings: None - this one’s clean thus far.
Brief summary: Jemaine loses his glasses and Bret lends a hand.
Notes: Astute readers, might see me laying the bread crumbs in this fic to a drawing by a certain artistic goddess named taconaco that was featured in this post. Hopefully she will not mind. Also, first Dave for me, so here’s hoping it’s not too bad.
As Bret guided Jemaine around New York, he narrated everything he saw as well as everything they were doing each step of the way.
“OK, we’re at Dave’s. I’m opening the front door-”
“Bret, I’m not blind. I can tell what we’re doing, I just…can’t see it clearly.”
Dave looked up from the paintball magazine he had been reading behind the counter, “Hey Bret, hey - woah!”
Dave held up his hands, “Bret, wow, your friend looks fucking pissed off! I don’t want any trouble, all right?”
“Dave, it’s Jemaine,” Jemaine said.
“Ok, Jimrain, look, I don’t know you - but I don’t want any trouble, capiche? I’m just a simple guy but, you know, I got a gun is all I’m saying.”
“It’s a paintball gun.”
“How did you-”
“Dave, it’s Jemaine,” Bret stressed, “He doesn’t have his glasses on.”
Dave edged forward, examining Jemaine, “Ohhh hey, yeah, I can see it now. Shit, dude, you look all different! You look like you’re going to fucking tear shit up!”
“Really?”
“Seriously, I thought I was going to have to go all commando on you.”
“Bret, do I look angry?”
Bret shrugged, “I don’t think so.”
“Trust me, Bret, Jemaine without his glasses looks like - ah! Jesus! Don’t do that shit in my shop!”
Bret and Jemaine both looked confused until Dave pointed to their joined hands, “Look, I mean, I always kinda knew it and eew! But, I mean, I know you can’t help it being from Urgay and all, it’s in the name of the country and shit but, don’t do that crap in here.”
“It’s New Zealand. And…I think you mean Uruguay,” Bret corrected, thinking how that was probably the farthest off Dave had ever been.
“Yeah, whatever, just-” he made a motion for them to spilt and reluctantly Bret released Jemaine’s hand.
“I’m just helping him. He can’t really see without his glasses. Have you seen them?”
Dave rubbed at his chin, thinking, “No. Don’t think so. I got some glasses to sell though. Maybe some of the ones I have will work on him.”
Dave brought out a box of glasses and the three of them began searching through them. Dave held up a fancy white pair, “How about these?”
Jemaine took them and held them up close to his face, “Um, I think these are lady glasses.”
“Well, with Bret leading you around you are kinda the lady here.”
Jemaine grimaced at him. Bret held up a monocle, “Ohh! What about this?”
Jemaine shook his head, “Nah, I need two.”
Bret seemed disappointed but kept searching. Dave held up some sunglasses, “Try these on.”
Jemaine put them on, “I can see even less now.”
“Yeah, but you look cool.”
“I don’t think I can get away with wearing these indoors. Or at night.”
“But you look cool.”
Jemaine took them off, “Um, I’ll think about them.”
“That’s my man.”
Bret had another pair of glasses, these with rhinestones on them, “How about these ones. They’re sparkly.”
“I think those are also lady glasses.” Jemaine said but Bret had all ready eased them on to his face.
“You look like Elton John, dude.” Dave said with a chuckle.
Jemaine took them off, “I could look like Mick Jagger and it wouldn’t matter. I can’t see out of any of these. I need my glasses.”
“Well, can’t help you there, Jemaine. Guess your search continues,” Dave said, collecting up the glasses.
Jemaine seemed pretty down as was Bret but Bret brightened immediately as he noticed something on a shelf nearby, “Oh! Look! Roller skates!”
Bret took down the skates to look at them up close, “These are awesome!”
“Oh yeah, had some guy trade a bunch in. I probably got your guys’ sizes if you want a pair.”
“No thanks.” Jemaine said automatically but Bret looked interested, repeating himself, “These are awesome!”
“Bret, you can’t roller skate.” Jemaine tossed out tersely, his headache growing worse as he continued to squint.
“Yeah, I know. But I can learn. Maybe you could teach me.”
Jemaine couldn’t deny that he did know how to roller skate. The two of them had talked about it once when he was checking out a redhead who was roller skating in the park.
Jemaine sighed, annoyed, “Maybe, but not now. Don’t have money for those, do we?”
“These skates are my size!” Bret said excitedly, “And they’ve got snakes on them!”
“Yeah, they’re cobras.” Dave added.
Jemaine grew even more irritable, as he couldn’t even see the cobras. To him it looked like the pink Bret blob was holding a black set of blobs with some white blobs on them, “Bret. Focus. Glasses.”
“I don’t think skating can be that hard to learn,” Bret said eagerly as he clutched to the skates, “I mean, it’s not that different. When you cycle, you’re only on two wheels, on roller skates you’re on four. I’ll have two extra wheels to support me. I know how to ride a bike. They’re the same thing.”
“No, not really…in one you’re sitting on top of wheels and in another you’re standing on them…it’s pretty different.” Jemaine pointed out. Without his glasses he couldn’t see how crushed Bret looked, but somehow he sensed it. This must be another heightened sense. Maybe he was getting (what was it?) telepathy.
Jemaine rubbed at his eyes and sighed, he softened his tone, “Bret, maybe we can come back and get the skates, but for now…”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Bret said sulkily and put the skates back. They waved their goodbyes to Dave and went outside the shop. They started walking down the street. Bret’s hands were deep in his jeans pockets and Jemaine followed after him, slightly wobbly.
He kept turning his head from side to side and then he stopped, rubbing at one arm, “Um, Bret?”
Bret stopped and looked back, making a noise in his throat to acknowledge he’d heard him. Jemaine shifted from foot to foot, then held out his hand, “Do-do you mind?”
Bret’s face softened with a small smile Jemaine couldn’t see. Bret took his hand and very nearly gave it a reassuring squeeze, “S’okay, Jemaine. I got your hand.”
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: R - but this is only due to Dave’s dirty mouth! No naked sexiness, sorry :(
Word Count:1,145
Warnings: None - this one’s clean thus far.
Brief summary: Jemaine loses his glasses and Bret lends a hand.
Notes: Astute readers, might see me laying the bread crumbs in this fic to a drawing by a certain artistic goddess named taconaco that was featured in this post. Hopefully she will not mind. Also, first Dave for me, so here’s hoping it’s not too bad.
As Bret guided Jemaine around New York, he narrated everything he saw as well as everything they were doing each step of the way.
“OK, we’re at Dave’s. I’m opening the front door-”
“Bret, I’m not blind. I can tell what we’re doing, I just…can’t see it clearly.”
Dave looked up from the paintball magazine he had been reading behind the counter, “Hey Bret, hey - woah!”
Dave held up his hands, “Bret, wow, your friend looks fucking pissed off! I don’t want any trouble, all right?”
“Dave, it’s Jemaine,” Jemaine said.
“Ok, Jimrain, look, I don’t know you - but I don’t want any trouble, capiche? I’m just a simple guy but, you know, I got a gun is all I’m saying.”
“It’s a paintball gun.”
“How did you-”
“Dave, it’s Jemaine,” Bret stressed, “He doesn’t have his glasses on.”
Dave edged forward, examining Jemaine, “Ohhh hey, yeah, I can see it now. Shit, dude, you look all different! You look like you’re going to fucking tear shit up!”
“Really?”
“Seriously, I thought I was going to have to go all commando on you.”
“Bret, do I look angry?”
Bret shrugged, “I don’t think so.”
“Trust me, Bret, Jemaine without his glasses looks like - ah! Jesus! Don’t do that shit in my shop!”
Bret and Jemaine both looked confused until Dave pointed to their joined hands, “Look, I mean, I always kinda knew it and eew! But, I mean, I know you can’t help it being from Urgay and all, it’s in the name of the country and shit but, don’t do that crap in here.”
“It’s New Zealand. And…I think you mean Uruguay,” Bret corrected, thinking how that was probably the farthest off Dave had ever been.
“Yeah, whatever, just-” he made a motion for them to spilt and reluctantly Bret released Jemaine’s hand.
“I’m just helping him. He can’t really see without his glasses. Have you seen them?”
Dave rubbed at his chin, thinking, “No. Don’t think so. I got some glasses to sell though. Maybe some of the ones I have will work on him.”
Dave brought out a box of glasses and the three of them began searching through them. Dave held up a fancy white pair, “How about these?”
Jemaine took them and held them up close to his face, “Um, I think these are lady glasses.”
“Well, with Bret leading you around you are kinda the lady here.”
Jemaine grimaced at him. Bret held up a monocle, “Ohh! What about this?”
Jemaine shook his head, “Nah, I need two.”
Bret seemed disappointed but kept searching. Dave held up some sunglasses, “Try these on.”
Jemaine put them on, “I can see even less now.”
“Yeah, but you look cool.”
“I don’t think I can get away with wearing these indoors. Or at night.”
“But you look cool.”
Jemaine took them off, “Um, I’ll think about them.”
“That’s my man.”
Bret had another pair of glasses, these with rhinestones on them, “How about these ones. They’re sparkly.”
“I think those are also lady glasses.” Jemaine said but Bret had all ready eased them on to his face.
“You look like Elton John, dude.” Dave said with a chuckle.
Jemaine took them off, “I could look like Mick Jagger and it wouldn’t matter. I can’t see out of any of these. I need my glasses.”
“Well, can’t help you there, Jemaine. Guess your search continues,” Dave said, collecting up the glasses.
Jemaine seemed pretty down as was Bret but Bret brightened immediately as he noticed something on a shelf nearby, “Oh! Look! Roller skates!”
Bret took down the skates to look at them up close, “These are awesome!”
“Oh yeah, had some guy trade a bunch in. I probably got your guys’ sizes if you want a pair.”
“No thanks.” Jemaine said automatically but Bret looked interested, repeating himself, “These are awesome!”
“Bret, you can’t roller skate.” Jemaine tossed out tersely, his headache growing worse as he continued to squint.
“Yeah, I know. But I can learn. Maybe you could teach me.”
Jemaine couldn’t deny that he did know how to roller skate. The two of them had talked about it once when he was checking out a redhead who was roller skating in the park.
Jemaine sighed, annoyed, “Maybe, but not now. Don’t have money for those, do we?”
“These skates are my size!” Bret said excitedly, “And they’ve got snakes on them!”
“Yeah, they’re cobras.” Dave added.
Jemaine grew even more irritable, as he couldn’t even see the cobras. To him it looked like the pink Bret blob was holding a black set of blobs with some white blobs on them, “Bret. Focus. Glasses.”
“I don’t think skating can be that hard to learn,” Bret said eagerly as he clutched to the skates, “I mean, it’s not that different. When you cycle, you’re only on two wheels, on roller skates you’re on four. I’ll have two extra wheels to support me. I know how to ride a bike. They’re the same thing.”
“No, not really…in one you’re sitting on top of wheels and in another you’re standing on them…it’s pretty different.” Jemaine pointed out. Without his glasses he couldn’t see how crushed Bret looked, but somehow he sensed it. This must be another heightened sense. Maybe he was getting (what was it?) telepathy.
Jemaine rubbed at his eyes and sighed, he softened his tone, “Bret, maybe we can come back and get the skates, but for now…”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Bret said sulkily and put the skates back. They waved their goodbyes to Dave and went outside the shop. They started walking down the street. Bret’s hands were deep in his jeans pockets and Jemaine followed after him, slightly wobbly.
He kept turning his head from side to side and then he stopped, rubbing at one arm, “Um, Bret?”
Bret stopped and looked back, making a noise in his throat to acknowledge he’d heard him. Jemaine shifted from foot to foot, then held out his hand, “Do-do you mind?”
Bret’s face softened with a small smile Jemaine couldn’t see. Bret took his hand and very nearly gave it a reassuring squeeze, “S’okay, Jemaine. I got your hand.”