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Coconuts	By : suz Category: G through L > Invisible Man Views: 957 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Invisible Man, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1
Title: Coconuts

Author/pseudonym: Suz

Fandom: Invisible Man

Paring: Bobby/Dairen

Rating: R for adult concepts, maybe language

Status: new/complete

Archive: WWOMB okay, all others ask

E-mail address: suzinsf@earthlink.net

Series/Sequel: yes, third in the missing scene arc from New Stuff started in 'Count On It' and 'My Way'

Other websites: Fanfiction.net, QS archive

Disclaimers: Don't own 'em, but I like to pretend I do.

Notes: Some angst and emotional owies. Many, many thanks to Pipsqueak who keeps pushing me to make it right!

Summary: Darien must come to terms with Bobby's ambivalence regarding a deepening relationship, and he receives both help in coping and another emotional blow from Claire

Warnings: none.

The

Invisible Man

"Coconuts"
(Aftermath of New Stuff missing scenes and tag)
"See, the pineapple is what makes it," Hobbes tells Claire, and I stare down into the milky whiteness of my fourth piña colada without really caring. Actually, I'd really rather be swilling scotch. I have every intention of getting totally and completely wasted. As fast as possible. An ounce of rum - or is it tequila? - every half hour ain't gonna do it for me any time soon.
I try to ignore the obvious moves Hobbes has been making on the Keeper since we got here, wishing I was just about anywhere else.
It feels weird. Even though we’re back together, what used to be a team, isn't. Not any more. It hurts. I hadn't figured on that.
Bobby's been ignoring me all afternoon since we got here. That hurts, too. Hell. Right now, everything hurts. I keep going over what I could have done differently, considering the circumstances, and I keep coming back to the same answer. Not much. Which isn't exactly making me feel any better.
"Darien?" Claire's now-slurred British accent is giggling in my ear. "Are you alright? You're very quiet," she chuckles.
I throw her a look, trying to avoid meeting Hobbes' eyes over her shoulder. "Fine," I say a little shortly. "It's just kinda hard to get a word in edgewise with the two of you jabbering away, here," I excuse myself.
"Aw, ignore him, Claire, he's just in one of his moods, ya know?" Hobbes interjects. The jovial note in his voice doesn't mesh with the sadness in his eyes as I glance at him, ready make some smart remark. Only whatever glib little comment I was gonna come back with evaporates out of my head in the face of Hobbes' expression. He looks away first, and I sigh. Again. It's about the only thing I've contributed to the conversation since we got here.
"Well, snap out of it, Darien," Claire grins at me, jabbing me lightly in the shoulder with her fist. "We have to have a plan!"
"Plan?" I ask stupidly.
"See, I told you he wasn't listening," she says over her shoulder to Hobbes, then looks back at me. "Darien." She sounds like she's trying to be stern, but the giggle-fit that hits her on the heels of even the small amount of alcohol she's drunk keeps spoiling the effect. "Bobby and I think we need to present a uniflied - unified - front on the issue of the raises we want. Now that the counteragent is no longer necessary, a good bit of the budget has been freed up. What I think is, the two of you should receive standard GS-12 salaries as agents, and I can leverage a 20 or 25% pay increase out of the old tightwad. But if we're going to pull this off, we need to stick together. Right?" Claire asks cheerfully.
"Right," Bobby agrees mockingly, not looking my way as he sips his piña colada.
"Is it just me, or doesn't it bug the rest of you that no matter what we do, the Fat Man's always a step ahead of us?" I ask, still broodin the the Official's little revelation in the office a couple of hours ago.
"Fawkes, when you've been at this as long as I have, you'll get used to the idea that the boss’s job is to maximize his — or her -" he adds for Claire's benefit, "-assets. We're assets. Therefore, my friend, we must be maximized." The defeatist sarcasm is drowned as he takes another sip, staring down into his glass for a minute. "That means playing the hand he's got to get the results he wants. And whatever else you wanna say about the Chief, he wants to see Chrysalis shut down just as much as we do. They are all-around bad news, pal. Bad news with a capital 'B'."
"I guess it's just me, then," I say sharply. "I'm still naïve enough to believe in freedom of choice. Free will. All that existential stuff/P> /P>

Hobbes snorts. "You're workin' for the government now, Fawkes. Free will is for the rest of the citizens. We're soldiers, pal. We do what we're told." That 'party line' bullshit is pissing me off, but he's still not looking at me, engrossed in the icy slush of his drink as he swirls it gently so coconut milk coats the inside of the glass
"Yeah, maybe back in the day; maybe that's what you wanted the Fat Man to think, Hobbes, but I know you better than that. Okay, so you're a soldier. But didn't you ever hear the old sixties' mantra: 'Question Authority'?" I shift on my stool, glaring past Claire at him. "Let's face it, the 'Fish is wa-a-ay too used to getting his way. So if we're gonna actually pull this off, we're gonna have to do more than follow orders."
"That's the spirit, Darien," Claire beams at me approvingly.
"I just don't see us gettin' anywhere with this," Bobby responds pessimistically. "You guys didn't even bother to let me know what you were gonna pull this afternoon," he sulks.
So that's what's buggin' him… He feels left out. Well, tough. He asked for it with the bait-and-switch he pulled last night. He's the one who told me to make up my own mind, for god's sake. And here I sit, still way too far away from drunk, thinking about the way I've been manipulated at every turn.
Even Hobbes did it. Maybe not on purpose, I don't think, but he let me think….
Okay. Not fair. It was pretty much my own fault, I guess, wanting something I hadn't even been willing to admit to myself, and letting him see it. The only thing Hobbes did was kiss me back. And I doubt we would've gotten to that point if I hadn't told him what I'd learned about his stint with the FBI and laid him wide open. So it serves you right, Fawkes, I tell myself. You open up a guy like Hobbes that way, and the confusion could get you anything. Anything at all. I guess I'm just lucky I got kissed and not a bullet in the head. It could've gone either way if I hadn't been careful. Except I wasn't careful enough, because he told me to get lost.
Well, not in so many words, but it ended up being the same general message. Crap. 'Don't come back just for me,' he told me. Meaning nothing was gonna change between us if I did, so not to get my hopes up. The problem with that is that every instinct I have is telling me that Hobbes was interested. It wasn't just surprise that gave him that beautiful hard-on last night. He kissed me back. On the couch, and then again in the lobby of his building, right out in public, for god's sake. What the hell am I supposed to do with that, huh? It's not exactly something a guy can just forget, a kiss like the ones he laid on me. You can't take something like that back. It doesn't work that way. At least not for me. So what am I gonna do about it? I mean something that won't make me crazy. How do I convince my deadly little partner to let me into his bed? is his heart, for that matter?
"Dah-ree-en!" Claire's tone tells me she's been repeating my name for a while, now.
"Sorry, Keepy," I answer, trying not to let my distraction ruin her drunken brainstorming session. Of course, it'd take more'n just a bad mood on my part to rain on her parade when she's been boozing it up…
"You're not being very much fun this evening," she scolds me. "Now. Will you PLEASE pay attention? I think we need to come up with specific contracts. One for each of us. Ones that the Official will have to sign if he wants us to work for him." She peers from me to Bobby and back again. "You didn't sign that contract Albert presented you with, right?"
I shake my head negatively, confirming that. "It'd be a cold day in hell before I put my head back in that noose," I tell her.
"Good," she smiles, loopy with the margaritas she's had. "That means we have some leverage. I know you and I spoke last night about what our terms would be if we went back, but we need to have Bobby with us in this. Make it clear to the Official that it's a package deal. Because we are assets who have enough freedom to allocate ourselves elsewhere, if he doesn't play by our rules."
I glance past Claire to where Bobby sits, slowly opening and shutting the little paper umbrella that came in his drink as if he was doing his best to shut out her words.
"I don't think Hobbes thinks he has the luxury of negotiating," I venture cautiously. This is an argument that almost cost me his friendship once already. I made the mistake of trying to drag him along when I made my temporary move to the FBI a few weeks ago. I know Bobby doesn't think he's got much in the way of options, at this point in his career, and I know he's not too keen on what he thinks of as a handout, so that doesn't leave him all that many cho.
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Coconuts