Chapter 1: I saw the brook, frozen in winter.
Notes:
There will probably be some OOCness because this is absolutely a self-indulgence fic. There’s also not much Bobby content canonically, so not entirely my fault lol
Hope you enjoy nonetheless :3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The new trace analyst was… interesting. Or at least, so Bobby Dawson had heard.
Ballistics and trace were close enough that he probably should’ve met by now, but evidence was ferried by a third party, and Bobby had been swamped most of the week, so he had yet to meet the guy. Bobby didn’t even know his name. But New Guy had been working at the Las Vegas Crime Lab for a whole week, and on slow days there was nothing to do other than gossip.
“You think he’s gonna make it much longer?” Archie asked, pouring a third sugar into his coffee. Normally he strayed from sweeter food and drink, but the break room coffee was just… that bad. “I mean, one week is the average stay for new hires, if they make it past the blood letting.”
“Oh c’mon. The guy - Hedges or whatever - is already all sour and snippy,” Greg, one of the few who had interacted with New Guy, judged. “I give him another week max before he yells at Grissom and gets shoved off to the next lab.”
Bobby took a long drag of his herbal tea - again, only because it’s better than the coffee - and watched his coworkers discuss New Guy. ( Hedges? ). Unlike the others, his having never met the guy meant he didn’t want to gossip, just in case he made an assumption that was wrong and gave himself a bad first impression of the man. Still, Greg wasn’t the kind to make anything up; misinterpret, occasionally, but not mislead. Greg at least believed that the trace tech didn’t seem like a promising candidate for being one of the Lab Rats.
“Maybe he’s grumpy because he got transferred,” Mandy piped up from the corner, “Apparently he’s from L.A. and, while I don’t know the details, he got shipped over the state border because he did something to make the higher-ups hate him.”
“I heard Vincent say the word was that he got pretty violent with one of his superiors.”
“Why not just fire him?”
Mandy shrugged. “Nepotism?”
“From one of the ones he didn’t assault?”
“Alright,” Bobby interrupted with a glance at the clock. “We’ve ‘ad time to refuel ‘n gossip. How ‘bout we go clear our backlogs, instead of talkin’ behind the back of someone we haven’t even met. Aside from Greg.”
The other Lab Rats all gave a murmured complaint about getting back to work, but they still listened to the southerner and packed up. Bobby downed the rest of his tea, washed the cup, and joined them.
It wouldn’t do anyone any good if they had a backlog when they inevitably got an influx of work, and he was still identifying a bullet from the start of the night.
He hoped that the New Guy would meld with the rest of the Lab and last further than a month ( the record held by last week’s trace tech ). If the guy was as antagonistic as Greg seemed to think, though, Bobby couldn’t see that happening.
Pulling a handgun from the processing rack, Bobby hoped that Greg misinterpreted something. It would be nice to have a new face around the lab.
It’d been a month since New Guy, now known as David Hodges, started working at the lab. A month without getting fired, yelling at anyone, or having any heavy suggestions that he should move on. Bobby had somehow still yet to meet him.
He’d seen him from a distance; a guy about his height with short brown hair, and a frown that practically screamed with the same sarcasm that Bobby had heard rumours about. New Guy didn’t seem to be falling behind, unlike his predecessor, which was a point in his favour at least.
Leaning back from the computer, Bobby rubbed his eyes to re-wet them. He squeezed them shut at a twinge of pain. Too long staring at screens made him forget to blink.
Bobby queued a few sets of bullet stria to run through the comparison database, starting the process and standing up to grab something to drink.
The break room was deserted, most people swamped with their own evidence. He pulled out his mediocre herbal tea, grabbed some boiling water from the cheap electric kettle, and let it steep for a minute.
Honestly, ballistics wasn’t as versatile as other forensics. Every crime had DNA or trace or fingerprints, and it was common enough to need Archie to check through grainy footage; not everyone used a gun.
Not that Bobby could complain about a lack of gun violence. Or the freer schedule. Ballistics was much less likely to get backed up by a shift or three like the other disciplines.
He checked his phone, seeing he had a few texts from Jon, and winced. Bobby tucked his phone right back into his coat pocket. He didn't really wanna talk to Jon at the minute, and now wasn’t even really the time to be texting his boyfriend anyway.
The break room door creaked open, soft and quiet footsteps rushing in the direction of the coffee maker.
Bobby turned his head to see who it was, seeing as nobody in the lab walked quietly. Especially not when coffee was on the mind.
He came face-to-back with their New Guy, blue lab coat, coffee addiction and all.
“Hey,” he said, making the other man snap around in surprise. Hodges looked about as cheery as Bobby had heard, with the frown he’d seen from across the lab deeper up close and sharp blue eyes with bags beneath them large enough to carry a CSI’s kit. “David Hodges, right?”
Hodges looked him up and down suspiciously, before seeming to come to some kind of conclusion. With a snide grin, he drawled, “For the last thirty-eight years.” Hodges turned his back, grabbing his fresh coffee. “Can I help you?”
Bobby fought not to be too off-put by the, well, off-putting man and smiled at him. “I’m Bobby Dawson, I work ballistics.” He glanced at the black coffee Hodges was still holding. “You might wanna add sugar.”
“If I wanted sugar, I’d have grabbed it.”
“Have ya’ had the coffee here yet?” Bobby grinned.
Hodges nodded, drinking the foul liquid. Bobby grimaced in sympathy. “As offensive as it is, I’ve had worse.” Hodges made to leave, and Bobby was tempted to let him.
But the man had made it a month. And this Hodges guy - though he seemed just as unfriendly as Greg had complained - seemed like he was going to last, somehow. Even if they didn’t necessarily get along with him.
“If you ever want somethin’ more interestin’ than the break room to talk to on break, my lab door’s open.”
Hodges turned to fire him a cynical look. Bobby just took a sip of his tea as the trace tech backed out the door without another word.
Well, Bobby thought to himself, At least I tried.
With a glance at the clock, Bobby downed his tea, washed the cup and got back to work.
Bobby saw Hodges in the break room a few times after that. The tech didn't seem to want to take him up on his offer, but Bobby wasn't about to get offended over it.
Though when he walked in, needing a cup of tea ( with extra caffeine, Bobby didn't drink it because he liked it ), he wasn't expecting to see Hodges pouring over a book of fibre comparisons, nursing a cup of coffee in one hand and a printed photo in the other. He was slowly going through the large photo book. The photo he was sliding across the page was a fibre sample. Hodges was probably doing a visual comparison.
Bobby quietly sorted out his tea. Hodges was still working silently by the time he was done. “Watcha got there?” Bobby asked, peering over the other’s shoulder.
Hodges jumped, not having heard Bobby walk up. After seeing who it was, he relaxed back into his slump. “I have a thing for microscopic shots of fibres.” Bobby rolled his eyes.
When Bobby didn't leave, Hodges sighed and leaned back. He gave a wide gesture to the seat next to him, and Bobby took the invitation for what it was and sat down. “These fibres were found on the victim. I can recognise it’s polyester, but I’m waiting for GCMS to tell me some specifics, and what some dirt on the fibres is made up of. I figured I’d see if I could find out where it’s from first.” Hodges turned the page again, revealing the next set of polyester close-ups.
“Do ya have anythin’ more, Hodges, or is it just ‘polyester’?” Bobby bobbed his teabag in his cup. “Do ya prefer Hodges or David?”
The analyst looked up, an unimpressed gaze drawing on his face. “They’re both my name. And yes, it’s thick polyester. So probably rope, but maybe canvas.”
Bobby drank some of his tea, looking closely at the photos. He may not know much about fibres, but he knew about comparing small details.
At least Hodges didn't look as wrung out as usual. His eye bags were smaller, and there was less hunch in his form even if he was still a bit crunched up. Maybe the guy worked dayshift in L.A. and was just adjusting.
“Y’know,” Bobby started. “Lassos are made of thick polyester.”
Hodges snorted, grinning at Bobby through narrow eyes. “I’d almost think you were southern.”
“I’m jus’ sayin’; if I remember correctly it’s a unique enough kinda rope, so it could be a unique fibre.” With a smile and a shrug, Bobby downed the rest of his over-steeped tea. “Good luck with yer trace, Dave.”
Bobby washed his mug like always, before heading back to his own lab. He didn't think to look back and see the considering look that David - Bobby decided he was going to use his first name - had given him.
Maybe the New Guy wasn't as bad as they all thought.
A few months later, after a rain of sirens, shattered glass, and low emergency lights, Bobby stood outside wishing life would go back to normal.
After seeing his friend in the back of the ambulance. Seeing the lab with walls more akin to shower curtains. His coworkers mottled with soot. Greg.
Bobby wanted things back to normal.
His hands were shaking. It wouldn't surprise him for half a second if that were true for everyone. Not after what happened.
Even after the first few hours of the supposed ‘cleanup’, it did barely anything to help the lab. Plastic sheets stood in place of glass walls. Scorch marks darkened the ceiling. Soot still clung to a few techs, not having had time to go home and shower. They’d only had time to call loved ones and say that they were okay.
Bobby had stood in a daze, ignoring the phone ringing again and again in his pocket. He couldn’t. Not yet. He wasn’t even sure how he felt yet.
Bobby was thankful for the first time that his lab was so far from Greg’s. The idea of all the heat of an explosion next to his live ammunition… bullets flying didn't make anything better.
Their shift was over; most of the lab rats had gone. Some to home. Some to see Greg, who reported back that he was okay. He would be back in a few days, after he’d healed from his relatively minor injuries and a statement from a councillor.
He would still have scars.
Bobby walked down to the locker room, feeling too intact and far too shaken all at once. He might stop by a bar on the way home. He’d get odd looks for going at - he glanced at his watch - half eight in the morning. But it was the end of the day for him, even if it was the start for everyone else.
Walking into the locker room, which should have been empty, the first thing Bobby saw was Hodges.
The trace analyst didn't even notice him standing there. He was just on the bench, still in his lab coat ( black powder clung to him on one shoulder. The trace lab was close to Bobby’s, but it was close to Greg’s as well. Bobby hadn't thought to look into how damaged the other labs had gotten and suddenly that felt like a crime ). He was staring down blankly at his own hands. Bobby could see them shaking.
“Hey.” At the greeting, Hodges’ head jerked up to look at Bobby. For once, there was no smug glint in his eyes, only murky blue irises around shrunken pupils. Bobby didn't know what to do with this newfound vulnerability that had moved in.
Said vulnerability only lasted a moment before Hodges sat up straight, staring blankly at Bobby. “Dawson,” he greeted in turn.
“Call me Bobby. Nobody calls me Dawson.”
Hodges nodded, going back to staring at his hands. They weren't shaking anymore, but Bobby couldn't unsee the soft quivers of a moment before.
“I’m goin’ out for a drink,” he blurted out, drawing David’s eyes again. “Ya wanna join?”
Another blank stare met him, and Bobby could see the denial coming. Bobby didn't think that would help anyone. Not right now. “It’ll take yer mind off…”
Hodges’ eyes fell back to his hands, and for a minute Bobby thought that he’d say no anyways. The analyst’s head bobbed an agreement, and Bobby mustered a weary smile.
“I’ll meet ya outside, then?”
David stood to his feet and peeled off his coat, shoving it into his locker and leaving with a single nod to Bobby as he brushed past.
Bobby listened as the quiet footsteps quickly faded out.
He shrugged off his own coat, putting it away and grabbing his bag. His phone rang in his pocket, and he knew it was Jon. Again. Bobby couldn't deal with that phone call right now.
He headed out to the car park, where he saw David waiting for him, still slightly absent. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, which would’ve been normal if David were moving, or talking. Bobby didn’t know him well, but seeing him still looked… wrong.
Hodges had been working at the crime lab for around six months now. He’d survived Grissom’s blood drawing, Greg’s loud music, and whatever else the Graveyard shift had thrown at him. It was about time that they started to really let the guy into the Lab Rats circle.
It was ultimately his choice if he didn't want to be a part of their mishmashed family unit.
Bobby still wanted him to have that choice.
Notes:
That’s chapter 1 :D
I always thought it was really funny how every single fanfic with Bobby in it, no matter the author, he was just super gay. I figured he just gave such vibes that the fandom accepted it as canon before I found out that it actually just is canon lol ( or at least it was supposed to be, if Bobby hadn’t been so much of a background character :/ )
Also, ngl, this whole fic was supposed to be Hodges-centric, but I started writing it and after a little bit I realised I’d only been writing abt Bobby. At that point I had to give into the subconscious XD
This is all pre-written, so tune in next week for another instalment of The Bois!
Leave a comment if you feel like it, and have a fantastic day/night!
Chapter 2: Overcast skies reflecting a silver sheen,
Summary:
Hodges and Bobby at a bar what they gonna do
Notes:
Chapter 2 yippee :3
This one was quite fun to write ( it does include quite a few of my silly headcanons teehee )
Hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The bar was, unsurprisingly, near-empty. Bobby hadn’t expected it to be swamped at nine a.m., but it was still Las Vegas. Any other city and it probably would’ve closed by now.
As they took a seat, Bobby realised that Hodges hadn't so much as said a word to him the whole time. His hands weren't back to shaking, which Bobby took as a plus, but he still looked faraway.
“Ya alright?”
David threw him a look, one eyebrow raised as if to ask ‘do I look alright?’. Bobby winced. “Sorry, dumb question.”
The bartender came over and asked them their orders. Bobby just asked for beer, not wanting anything heavy, just something to take slow. This is more a social outing than a get-drunk outing. Hodges muttered quietly, “Sangria. Virgin.” He looked over at Bobby and must’ve thought Bobby was curious because he then added, “Bad girlfriend. Can't stand alcohol.”
Bobby decided not to ask why David would then go to a bar.
The drinks were quickly placed in front of them and they sat once more in silence.
Bobby was content to just sit, but he could tell David was a bit higher strung. The quiet but pointed breaths, the kind you take just before starting to speak, were the biggest giveaway.
“How…” Bobby took a deep breath, not looking as Hodges turned to him. “How bad did trace get hit with the…”
David took a sip of his mocktail. “It’s fine.”
Hodges had still had soot on him, it had to have been worse than fine. “Y’ weren't caught in it, right?”
The trace tech shook his head, staring at the pieces of fruit floating at the top of his drink. “Some soot carried. I got the equivalent of a sunburn on one shoulder. A few slides were knocked off the microscopes.” David leaned back in his chair. “My bookshelf blew over, too. It’s gonna be a pain to reorganise.” He grinned at Bobby, like it was supposed to be a joke. Bobby didn't miss the shake in David’s hand as he took another sip of his drink.
“I can imagine,” he said instead.
The silence started coming in again, this time making the back of Bobby’s neck tingle in discomfort. “So, I know it’s late to ask. But, how has Las Vegas been so far?”
Hodges levelled him a Look at the awkward question, and Bobby managed not to cringe at himself. Again. “Well,” David drawled, sarcasm creeping into his tone. “It’s been wonderful. In fact, just today the lab got blown up. And my dear CSIs checked in on me by threatening to end my career.” Hodges looked back down into his drink. “I’m loving it.”
Bobby’s bottle stopped halfway to his mouth. “They what?”
“Willows and Brown,” David explained with a flick of his wrist. “Wanted to know if I’d left the burner on under the fume hood next to the unknown and potentially explosive substance.”
Bobby stared silently, going over his colleague’s words in his head. Wait. “So you don’t know–”
“No,” David interrupted, “I don't know if I did or not, though I'm certain I’d never do something so stupid. I’ve just got to wait for the call from dear old Grissom to say that I'm the one that– that–”
Hodges cut himself off, covering his mouth with a shaky hand and Bobby realised that this is what was rattling David. Not being near an explosion in harm’s way, or having his lab thrown to pieces. He was scared that maybe Greg and the others were hurt because of him. David was guilty.
David was guilty and it wasn't his fault.
“Tha’s not what I was gonna ask,” Bobby started gently. “I was gonna ask if you’d been told that they know what happened.”
“They neglected to inform me.”
Bobby put a hand on David’s shoulder, and the guy met his eyes. “It’s not yer fault, Dave.” He scoffed, and Bobby continued, “They’ve suspended Catherine for a few days. It was an accident, but they figured it was her fault ‘cause she didn't check if it was off. She didn't follow procedure.”
Hodges took a deep breath himself, looking at Bobby in disbelief. He left his drink on its coaster to hold his head in both hands. Bobby gave his shoulder a light squeeze.
“It’s not yer fault.”
Hodges barked out a humourless laugh. “They could've told me.” Bobby winced at the words.
“Yeah, they should’ve. Sounds like Catherine owes ya’ an apology.” But the lab rats had all known shortly after, only being beaten to the info by Greg, and that was only because he'd been informed directly by Catherine. “I’m sorry too.”
Hodges let his head rise from his hands. “As the only person in the whole lab that both works with me and still talks to me, you are the one who least owes me an apology,” he countered, swirling his drink. His hands weren't shaking, and Bobby resisted the urge to smile, ever so slightly.
“Still, we haven’t been all that open with ya’.” Bobby took a swig of his beer, looking away from David. “I hope ya’ know it’s not personal. People don’t last in the lab, ya’ see. The Lab Rats are a little family, and if we get close to someone and then a month later…” Bobby made a vague gesture with his bottle.
“I just figured L.A. had spread some rumours out about my transfer.” David shrugged. “They liked to talk more than they worked.”
Bobby laughed. “We’re too busy to talk most of the time, even if we wanted to. Dayshift gossips like a bunch o’ school girls.”
He didn't really want to think too much about what kind of work environment David was used to if he was so sure that his old colleagues would slander him the moment his back was turned. Or that he believed Bobby and the others would readily believe whatever they were told. But, if David wanted to talk about it, he would, and unless it became relevant Bobby wasn't about to push.
Bobby’s phone rang, and after a quick glance to the caller ID, he shoved it back in his pocket. David gave him a questioning look, but Bobby ignored it.
Speaking of significant others. “So, you datin’ anyone, or was that ‘bad girlfriend’ permanently scarrin’ enough to put ya’ off for good?”
David shook his head, fishing a piece of fruit out of his drink with a cocktail stick. “Not at the minute; gotta wait for the perfect lady. You know how it is. They’ve got to see me for who I am, accept my work and its place in my life. Have a good personality. Preferably be drop-dead gorgeous.”
“She doesn't have to be shockingly intelligent?” Bobby grinned. David gave a wistful look, sighing as he slumped into his seat.
“That would be ideal. But if we get along and we’re happy, that’s enough for me.” Bobby nodded, sipping his drink. It was a mature standpoint Bobby hadn't exactly expected; not that he really thought Hodges was immature. The man was just petty and rude enough to seem that way at first glance.
“Enough about my stalled love life and unrealistic expectations,” the trace analyst grinned something wicked, turning to look at Bobby. “What about you? I don't have to be CSI to know what’s going on with that phone of yours.”
Bobby groaned, letting his head hang down. He really didn't want to talk about Jon of all things. Their relationship had been rocky the last couple weeks, and Bobby was anticipating that the day it started going downhill wasn’t far on the horizon.
“It’s nothin’, man,” he tried to deflect, going back to his now half-empty beer.
David leaned forward. “I did not spend a whole two minutes pouring my heart out to you to be denied the same sappy garbage in turn.”
“Sorry, Dave, not today.”
“Oh, come on, Dawson, just the cliffnotes is fine! If it’s because you're–”
“I don't wanna talk about it.” Bobby cut off. He regretted it slightly, curiosity making him wonder what exactly it was that Hodges was about to say. But David’s next retort was silenced by Bobby’s phone ringing, and without thinking he dug it out of his pocket and accepted the call. “Hello, Bobby Dawson speaking.”
Hodges gave him a smug grin, having known exactly what it was that he had just caused. Bobby himself didn't quite realise the repercussions of his actions until a fed-up sounding, “It’s about time,” came through his phone speaker.
“...Hey.” Bobby turned away from David, shielding himself from prying blue eyes. “So–”
“Is there a reason you weren't picking up? Do you know how worried I’ve been?” Bobby stayed silent, knowing no excuse would satiate his irate boyfriend. “I have to hear from the local news that your lab exploded, and then you won’t pick up my calls? For all I knew you were dead, Bobby.”
“I know,” Bobby confessed. Because he did. And as much as the guilt of not calling Jon would eat him up, he just hadn't had the energy to deal with that conversation. He tried to ignore his coworker noisily slurping his drink next to him. “I wasn't… up to talkin’ much. Sorry.”
“Are you still at your lab?”
“No, I'm…” Bobby wished he was anywhere halfway decent at lying, because he knew Jon wouldn't believe anything other than the truth. “I'm havin’ a drink with a coworker. Commiseratin’.”
“Well, now you're coming home. And I mean right now.”
Bobby did not feel like going home to an angry, jealous boyfriend ( Bobby knew the other man well enough to know that yes, he had been worried, but that wasn't enough to get him riled up quite this much ). “I can't jus’ leave.”
“You can, and you will, Bobby! I swear if you aren't home in an hour we are going to be having a much longer talk!”
“Jon–” Bobby had only the flat tone of the other side hanging up in response. He would be having a long conversation whether he went home now or tomorrow.
Bobby turned back to take a drink from his beer when he remembered Hodges. Then he remembered that he said Jon. Jon was very obviously a man’s name, and David was a complete unknown in pretty much every realm. Bobby couldn't begin to guess how he would react to Bobby having a male partner.
The only person at the crime lab that knew he was gay was Jacqui. Bobby had never even entertained the idea of coming out to more of his colleagues, despite her insistence that it would be fine.
Bobby’s had too many experiences with other crime labs to tell people that kind of thing. There was a reason he didn’t live in Georgia anymore.
Hodges had established that he was straight. And he worked in law enforcement, sort of. Bobby didn't know that much about Los Angeles queer culture, so he couldn’t even base whether he would react on any inherited homophobia, or lack thereof.
He could only hope that the trace analyst hadn’t heard him. Or maybe Hodges heard Joan, or reconsidered whether the caller was a romantic partner, or something. It was just easier if they didn't have to talk.
“So… what was your weirdest case in L.A.?” Bobby tried to ask. He dared to look at his coworker, only to see Hodges looking back at him with a considering look. It wasn't disgusted, which Bobby hoped was a good sign.
David didn't answer, the silence stretching out uncomfortably tight, and Bobby started drinking his beer again. He put the bottle down when his hand noticeably shook.
The silence broke with Hodges asking, thoughtful but unreadable, “You didn't hear any rumours about my transfer?” Bobby shrugged and shook his head, then stopped at a vague memory from months ago.
“I heard ya’ did somethin’ violent,” he muttered.
Hodges hummed, looking down at the glass he’d finished and was now fiddling with. “It’s true.” David looked back up at Bobby, holding eye contact with an expression Bobby couldn’t read. “There was this new kid in the lab. He’d just finished college, and L.A. was his first job not flipping burgers. He didn't really… get people, especially law enforcement.”
“So, not even a week into working at the lab, he started talking about how he was going out to dinner.” Hodges put his glass on the coaster. “With his boyfriend.”
Bobby’s gaze shot down to his hands. His head had long since gone cold, all the blood rushing down to his stomach.
Three facts kept going round his head: Hodges did something violent, it had something to do with a gay coworker, Hodges was transferred. Violence, homosexual, transfer.
Bobby… Bobby didn’t feel safe anymore.
“I— I gotta get home,” Bobby stuttered, moving to stand. “Can’t keep the lover waitin’ n’ all.”
“Dawson.” Bobby looked over at the trace analyst, the calm tone of voice giving him pause. Hodges was grinning. “I wasn’t transferred for whatever you’re thinking; I broke my supervisor’s nose.”
Bobby stared. “So… y’ don’t…”
“I’ve known you were gay since we first met,” he smirked. “I’m not blind, Dawson. I just don’t care.”
A surprised huff - that some might constitute a laugh - burst past Bobby’s lips, which shifted into a shaky grin. Bobby leaned onto the bar, letting his head fall into his hands. “Sorry. Sorry, man, I shoulda– sorry. But why did you– your supervisor?”
“He decided to say some things about the kid that I won’t repeat in polite company. The kid was technically only an assistant lab tech, but he worked under me. He was a good gopher boy, and I didn't appreciate him getting slurred out.”
Hodges fished the last piece of fruit out of his glass. Bobby wondered if understatement was a talent of Hodges, if ‘I didn't appreciate it’ translated to ‘I was so offended on his behalf I assaulted my supervisor’.
“But as an apology to immediately judging my morals, you can buy me another drink,” David said with a shrug. “And I don’t want just the cliff notes anymore.” Hodges made a ‘give’ gesture, before he smirked wide and practically sung the word, “Spill.”
With a weak laugh, Bobby waved to the bartender and ordered David a refill of his drink.
“Alright. But only if you stop callin’ me Dawson.”
It was the best part of an hour before they finally left the bar to get some sleep at home. Hodges had been sorely disappointed in Jon’s less-than-affectionate attitude ( apparently it was also obvious to David that Bobby liked a lot of affection, mostly physical. Bobby didn’t think he wanted to know how ), which Bobby appreciated, and Hodges also vaguely threatened the man with bodily harm, which Bobby… kind of appreciated.
“If he ever messes up, I know how to hide bodies by the way,” Hodges off-handedly mentioned over the rim of his third glass of overpriced fruit juice. Bobby nearly choked on his beer - the same one he’d had from the start.
“Ain’t that, I dunno, a crime?”
Hodges scrunched his nose at him. “And?”
It was nice to know the guy cared, even if it took getting him too exhausted to think to get him to admit it. Sort of.
“Hey,” David poked Bobby in the shoulder before he could walk off to his car. “Anyone else at work know?”
After a moment to decipher what he was talking about, Bobby shrugged with, “Jacqui.”
David nodded. “I guess homosexuality is something to have in common.”
With a startled blink, Bobby asked, “She told you?”
Hodges grinned. Well, smirked. “No? As I said, Bobby, I’m not blind.”
Hodges walked away to his own car, a lack of animation in the movements that betrayed the long day they’d had, even if the man tried to hide it. His comment left Bobby to question how obvious he and Jacqui really were.
Maybe David was just less oblivious than he led the lab to believe.
Bobby then remembered some of the many foot-in-mouth comments he’d overheard Hodges make since he’d started working there.
No, David was oblivious.
Notes:
As it says it the tags, I know nothing abt romance, especially not rocky romance, so I rly didn’t know how to write Bobby and his man :|
When posting I couldn’t decide when in the day to do it. I had an alarm set for 13:25 ( also an alarm for an online lesson, but that’s not as important ) but I’ve been trying to stop myself from putting it up since like, 7am XD
This has already gotten a lot more love than I thought it would when I posted ch1, and I can’t tell y’all how happy that makes me ( especially the lovely astute_potato and their kind comment )
Hope you enjoyed, and have a great day/night!!
Stay tuned for the chapter next Thursday :]
Chapter 3: A mottled surface, like glass in the hand of the maker.
Notes:
It’s next Thursday!!!! :D
Chapter 3/4 ooooo
I hope y’all enjoy this week’s instalment, which is like twice as long as every other chapter in this story lol ❤️✨
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Hodges was slowly fitting in with the rest of the lab.
After their morning round of drinks, Bobby had apparently passed some previously-unknown test, and his fellow scientist now took half his breaks in Bobby’s lab. At first it was annoying; David would sit on a spare chair with a questionable coffee in hand and prattle off about some topic for a solid twenty minutes, wherein Bobby couldn’t concentrate on what he was doing. Normally, the only sound Bobby allowed in the ballistics lab was gunfire tests and the faint carry of Greg’s music down the hall— and the later was only when the younger tech forgot his headphones.
After disrupting him for a whole break, Hodges would then leave Bobby to get back to his own work, and he could finally have some peace and quiet.
Once he got used to it though, Bobby actually started to like it. It wasn’t as if the subjects of Hodges’ rants were boring. The most mundane thing he talked about was some ex-girlfriend he’d had at some point, or complaining about Greg annoying him with his horrible wardrobe and loud music.
Bobby found it interesting, on the whole. And David seemed to enjoy himself, not needing much more than a few hums to show him that Bobby was still listening.
( He found out after a few visits that David needed a little input to keep going. If Bobby didn't show his vague engagement, he would trail off to an awkward halt that neither of them liked. )
What Bobby really liked was that the other Lab Rats were slowly starting to accept David into the fold as well. After Bobby had mentioned he’d had drinks with the guy, and consequently said that he seemed pretty decent, they took that as a sign to start inviting him to things.
Obviously, Hodges’ personality hadn’t changed, so the first few times they invited him to anything he declined with no shortage of suspicion and sass. But the Lab Rats as a unit were more stubborn than Hodges could ever hope to be, and eventually they managed to catch him at the end of shift, Jacqui all but forcing him to come to the monthly All Lab Rats’ breakfast.
Hodges didn’t speak or engage much at the breakfast, but he wasn’t terribly disgruntled, so they considered it a success. After that, dragging him along on whatever they were doing was generally accepted in lieu of an actual invitation. Hodges didn’t complain that seriously, and more importantly he never said he wanted them to stop.
After a few months David Hodges was just as much a Lab Rat as everyone else.
Unfortunately, it still wasn’t unanimous. Some techs like Henry or Vincent were wary of him - probably due to listening to whatever rumours were getting churned out - but even on the few occasions overtime meant they interacted, the swing and day shift crews were at least getting used to David’s loud, and often grating, personality.
Plus, every now and then Hodges would show a sliver of the fact that he cares a little bit more than he’d like them to realise. The moments were few and far between, but they were treasured ( at least for good blackmail and teasing ).
Like when Jacqui had gotten the flu and he’d made soup - real soup - to take to her place, just because ‘no one should have to stomach that vile canned stuff’. Or when Archie’s girlfriend broke up with him - amicable as it was - and Hodges ‘happened’ to bring a flask of hot chocolate to work everyday for a week, and that flask ‘happened’ to end up in Archie’s lab.
Which was interesting. Especially as Hodges was allergic to chocolate.
Whenever Bobby walked into the break room to see that some poor soul had fallen victim to one of David’s rants, he couldn’t help but smile a little. He wasn’t the only one that Hodges seemed comfortable enough with to let himself rant at them.
The CSIs hadn’t cottoned on yet that David was starting to open up, though. Which wasn’t the ideal. But they were getting used to him, at least. It just meant the Lab Rats had him all to themselves for now.
Bobby liked David, and he was glad that, hard as some factors made it, a new hire had lasted long enough to worm their way into the group. And, all evidence indicated that Hodges would be lasting a lot longer.
Bobby never thought he’d see the day where Hodges and Greg - neither of whom would ever admit to being friends, especially not to outsiders - were having an animated conversation about… well, Bobby wasn’t quite sure what it was about, but it was heartwarming.
Even when Greg threw his arms in the air and stormed off in what only those close to him would recognise as faux-anger.
And especially when the smug smile that followed on Hodges’ face showed that he recognised Greg’s antics for what they were.
The only thing that Bobby loved more than his friends was seeing them all get along.
Bobby slid the next bullet under the microscope, comparing it to the sample from one of the suspect’s guns.
The only backdrop to his work was the constant din of the lab and the clinks of glass slides and bullet casings. Bobby took a steady breath, comparing the rifling patterns on the bullets.
The shallow grooves scratched into the metal didn’t match up, and Bobby marked it down in the report. He moved on to the next bullet.
Of course, the suspect was an avid gun collector, which Bobby could relate to - he loved the science and engineering of guns, and some guns were just pretty - if it weren’t for the fact that the guy had probably used one of them to kill three people. Bobby, thankfully, could not relate to that.
He lined it up under the scope and resisted the urge to sigh when it, again, didn’t match. Bobby logged it, and moved on.
Soft footsteps and the smell of the office coffee - like burnt sugar and something uniquely tangy and bitter - came into his lab and Bobby smiled. Without looking up from the next sample he’d laid out under the scope he muttered, “Hey, Dave.”
Hodges sat down in his seat, which squeaked like it did every time. “Dawson,” he greeted, using Bobby’s last name as a turned-around nickname probably meant to be annoying. ( It hadn’t had that effect since Bobby noticed the hidden but undeniable foundation of fondness ). “You’ve got that triple shooting, huh?”
“Guns are my job, Dave,” he said, crossing another bullet off the list. “And I’ve got no trace for ya’, so I’m guessin’ yer not here to do your job.”
Bobby raised an eyebrow at the man, who simply shrugged and drank some of the near-intolerable swill the lab survived off of. “I’m on break.”
“We have a break room.”
David gave a hurt look that couldn’t fool the world’s most gullible. “Wasn't the first thing you told me that your lab door was open if I ever wanted something better than a wall to talk to? Bobby Dawson, were you lying to me? Was our whole relationship founded on lies?”
“Dave, if ya’ haven’t noticed yet, my door is always open,” he nodded his head to the doorway, “because I have no door.”
Hodges looked at the open doorway, then back at Bobby with an overly shocked look. “You poor man. I can't begin to imagine the lack of privacy you experience in our doorless, glass lab.”
David gave Bobby a long, sympathetic look, then took a loud slurp of his coffee. Bobby rolled his eyes, grabbing another bullet.
“Did ya’ need somethin’, or have you chosen a topic for today?” Bobby continued on with his work, letting himself fall into the routine that’d formed over the past few weeks.
“Actually, I’m all out today. Though I am saving some fun thoughts on vampires for one of those breakfasts you all drag me to.” David tapped his foot on the floor as he spoke.
If there was one word besides smug Bobby could use to describe Hodges, it would be animated. Hodges was always moving, whether that be his hands, his expression, or his whole body - Bobby had caught him dancing around his lab a few times - David was never still. Even his walk was, though quiet, bouncy.
Stiff, however? Absolutely. Hodges was an oxymoron wrapped in glamorous words and nervous hands. With a glance at the man, who was sat ramrod straight in the plastic chair, tense enough to make Bobby want to stretch his back, Bobby allowed himself a frown. Sometimes he wished he knew how to make David actually relax. And this was already an improvement from when he’d first started working there.
“So,” David continued, entirely oblivious to Bobby’s internal monologue, “I thought that for a change I’d ask you to speak. Anything you’ve been dying to say?”
“Yeah. I’ve got this coworker who keeps interruptin’ my work; It’s very annoyin’.”
“ Please, bullet comparison is something we both know you can do in your sleep.” Hodges waved his hand in the air as if to disperse the notion that Bobby’s work could be interrupted. “Now come on, there’s got to be something!”
Bobby just shrugged.
Hodges sighed. “Fine, I see how it is.” David slurped on his coffee again, if only to get a rise out of the ballistics tech. Which took guts, considering the amount of firearms that Bobby was trained to use and actively surrounded by. “How are things with you and your special someone?”
With a groan, Bobby shot Hodges a harsh look.
The trace tech winced. “That bad? Come on, Dawson; vent to me.”
“It’s not… that bad. It’s jus’… not good.” Bobby swapped out another sample, both thankful for the repetition and loathing the amount there was to process. Who really needed this many pistols of the same calibre? “We argue a lot.” Bobby threw a glance to see if anyone was near. “He doesn’t like that I work nights. I’m not available when he wants, so that means I’m obviously sabotagin’ the relationship.”
“An’ when I am home, it’s like nothin’ I do is good enough, and he’s got a short fuse, which leads to more arguments an’—“ Bobby let out a sharp breath. “An’ it’s just goin’ downhill, Dave. I can’t see us lastin’ much longer.”
Hodges gave a low hum. “Honestly, Bobby, if it were me I would’ve left by now. Jon doesn’t sound good for you.”
It was true, loathe as Bobby was to admit it. “Then… why do I feel so bad that I’m not tryin’ to make it work?”
Bobby made eye contact with David, who could only shrug. “You’re a good guy?” David stood, walking the couple steps over to Bobby to put a hand on his shoulder.
His hand was tense and still, and Bobby knew it was because David really wasn’t into physical contact. Whether he was just unused to it or genuinely didn’t like it was still to be determined, but it didn’t change the end effect. It just made the gesture all the more heartfelt, because Bobby knew David was doing it because Bobby liked contact. Needed it, maybe.
“Thanks, Dave. It’s just hard to— to even get a date. I’m not great at askin’ guys out, or even tellin’ if they’re, y’know. An’ I’ve never had good experiences with the, uh, usual hangouts for… people like me.” He didn’t want to say Gay Bars, but Hodges seemed to get it. “An’ he was so nice to start…”
Hodges gave his shoulder a faint squeeze. “Dawson, if this guy can’t get it through his thick skull what it is he’s losing if he doesn’t wise up, he doesn’t deserve you. It’s not on you to cater to those less mentally fortunate.”
Bobby leaned into David’s hand and grinned. “You really do care.” He wiped away a fake tear, then laughed as David’s face contorted into a grimace.
“No, absolutely not. You’re just more tolerable than some people, who I won’t name, but I will say their initials are Greg, and Sanders.”
With a soft smile, Bobby made sure not to mention that David’s hand was still a reassuring weight on his shoulder. “Alright, Dave.” He absently glanced at the clock, mourning internally when he saw the time. “I think yer break is up.”
Hodges shot a glance at the clock as well, and finally let his hand fall into its usual place in his lab coat pocket. “Yep,” the trace tech sighed. “But, you know where my lab is when you take your break. And hey, my offer for if Jon steps out of line is still there.”
“Dave, please stop sayin’ you’ll commit crimes in a crime lab. People might start to think yer serious.”
David grinned, “Who says I’m not? Besides, you know Jacqui and the other Rats would help me. And I’m sure you can pretend I never said this; I wouldn’t give you the details anyway. Got to make sure you have plausible deniability.”
“David Hodges.”
Grinning his smug, smug grin, Hodges started his tactical retreat to his own lab. Just before the ever-soft steps could actually exit ballistics, Bobby called out again.
“Hey, Dave.” Hodges turned around with a questioning look. “Thanks. For lettin’ me vent.”
David smiled, shrugging his shoulders and stepping one leg back to almost give the illusion of a bow. “What are colleagues for?”
As Hodges walked away, his unique sway and pep in his step, Bobby got back to work.
Even though Hodges tried to hide it behind layers of self-inflation and general disdain for humanity, if you bothered to look it was obvious that he cared about people. Bobby was honoured that he was one of those close enough to not just notice it, but be on the receiving end of it.
He slid another bullet under the microscope, rotating it until the rifling marks started to line up with the other bullet’s. Bobby sighed in relief as the marks finally matched.
Maybe it was time to start thinking about how he was going to break up with Jon, whether it was sooner or later.
Things with Jon weren’t good. That had been a well-established fact of life for a long while.
Bobby thanked the universe that despite the genuinely surprisingly long time they dated, they’d never decided to fully move in together. Because he couldn’t imagine how much worse things would’ve gotten had they done that.
Pulling his car into the Crime Lab’s car park, the soft pinks of dusk coming in on the desert sky, Bobby wondered whether it would’ve at least cut their relationship shorter than it already had been. If maybe, had they lived together, they would’ve just stopped and taken a moment to say this isn't working.
Because it was over now, well and truly.
The shake in his hands, and the dull ache that still lingered on his cheek were evidence of that.
“I’ve had enough, Bobby!” Jon yelled. Bobby tried to get in a word edgewise, but the other man was skilled at keeping talking. “Your long hours, never being home, not talking to me! I’ve had enough!”
Jon packed the last of his things from Bobby’s place in his bag— he’d mostly been finished by the time Bobby himself got home from the store.
Bobby wanted to say that he fought to keep Jon. But honestly… the relationship had been over for a while, they were just finalising it. Unfortunately, Jon had definitely wanted him to fight to get him to stay.
Taking a deep breath, Bobby got out of his car.
He signed in, giving Judy a smile in exchange for her concerned look - he must look more shaken than he thought - and headed to the lockers.
“You’re just gonna stand there!?” Jon was shorter than Bobby, but when he got up in his face, Bobby still instinctively stepped back. “What, you’ve been wanting me to leave this whole time, huh?”
“Jon… we haven’t been workin’ for a long time,” he said, trying to calm the other down. Jon’s vibrant nature had been what drew Bobby to him, he just hadn’t known it could turn into a temper. “You know that as well as I do—“
“Hey, Bobby,” Nick greeted, opening his locker and grabbing a clean shirt. Bobby was aware that he said something in response, even if it was probably just a mumbled greeting. He wasn't really concentrating as he grabbed his lab coat from his locker, putting it on purely through autopilot.
Nick must have been able to tell that something was wrong, because without Bobby’s notice a hand was on his shoulder. Bobby jumped, and being broken out of his thoughts he turned to Nick.
“Ya’ alright there, Bob…” the CSI trailed off, eyes shifting focus from Bobby’s eyes to his cheek, the one that still throbbed with pain everytime Bobby moved his face. The Texan’s face was the picture of concern, and Bobby was starting to wonder how readable he really was.
“I’m fine, Nick,” he muttered, finally answering the question. Nick didn't seem the slightest bit appeased by his words. Instead, Nicks’ brows furrowed deeper.
“Bobby, what happened to yer face?”
Bobby blinked. “My face?” Nick let go of Bobby’s shoulder, going to rifle through his own locker for a minute before returning with a mirror.
Oh. Bobby looked at his reflection, a large splotch of red spreading out across his cheekbone. That’s why it hurts. “It’s nothin’, Nick. Don’t worry about it.”
Trying to continue on with his objectively awful day, Bobby went through the motions of getting to his lab; drop his bag in the locker, close the door, lock it–
“Bobby, how did you get that bruise? And don't say you walked into a door because that thing is massive, man.”
“Did you ever love me? Was I just some pity date that never meant anything to you!?” Jon’s hands were waving around as he spoke, making Bobby flinch as one went slightly too close to Bobby’s face.
“Jon–”
“What, you think I'm gonna hit you!?”
“Really, Nick, it's fine. I got into a little argument, but it’s fine.” Bobby tried to brush past the Texan, but Nick stepped in his way.
“Are you sayin’ someone hit you?” Nick sounded angry, and Bobby hated that it made blood rush out of his head.
“Jon, no, that's not what I think, you know that–”
“Oh, now you're just lying to me!”
“Jon–”
Bobby was cut off by a loud snap as skin met skin. For a moment their argument paused as they both processed what Jon had just done.
“Bob… I…” Bobby stared, disbelieving. Jon opened his mouth to say something more, but closed it and turned to leave, picking up the bags he had left next to the door.
Bobby stood in the middle of his living room, brain still processing what had just happened.
“Nick, please drop it. It’s happened, I’m fine, I just wanna get back to work and forget it.” Bobby tried to brush past again, getting similarly cut off. Nick’s hand found its place on his arm again before Bobby jerked it away with one sharp movement.
“Bobby—”
“I said I’m fine!”
Nick reeled back at Bobby’s shout. He would have felt bad, but Nick’s shock gave him an opening to slip past, and Bobby took it. Leaving Nick behind, he swiftly made his way to his lab, head down.
For a second he considered asking Jacqui if he could borrow some of her emergency makeup from her locker. Then he thought about the fact that she would have a good guess as to who it was that gave him the bruise and… yeah, he was going to avoid her finding out for as long as possible.
Ignoring a couple of side glances, he got to his lab and breathed a sigh of relief.
Now he just had to make it through the whole day and hope that Nick wouldn't blab to everyone else in the lab.
Bobby made it pretty far through the day before footsteps signalled an unwanted entry into his lab. The familiar light and airy steps also gave away who exactly it was intruding on Bobby’s bubble.
“Dawson, rumour has it you're in a bad mood today,” Hodges joked, stalking up to the desk. Bobby felt the man walk up and lean over his shoulder; it was a habit he used on everyone, and only the CSIs hadn't gotten used to it yet. “I mean, how do you shout at Nick Stokes? It’s like shouting at a puppy.”
Bobby sighed. “It’s nothin’, Dave. He was jus’ pushin’ somethin’ he shouldn't have.” Bobby grabbed a shell casing from his pile, putting it under the camera to get a shot of the back.
Hodges hummed, taking stock of Bobby. The man straightened up, before leaning back against the desk to get a better look at Bobby as they talked. Bobby in turn tucked his head to the side to hide the darkening bruise.
“Dawson? The man of infinite fuse? Must be something important to get you all riled up.” David leaned back further, trying to get a look at Bobby’s face. Bobby turned his head further in. “You getting shy on me?”
“David, please just leave me alone.”
Something about his tone must’ve been off - Bobby was hating how easy he was to read to everyone other than himself - because David sat up straight and tense, all of his previous laxness tightening.
“Bobby, what’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, that's what you shouted at Nick.” Hodges shot back, crossing his arms. “Now tell me what’s going on with you.” Bobby took a shaky breath, trying to get back to his work; his hands shook too much and he dropped the shell casing to the table. “Bobby, look at me.”
David put a hand on his shoulder. Bobby’s eyes started to prick with heat and pressure, and knew that Hodges, as oblivious as he could be, was noticing it.
“Bobby?”
Finally giving in, Bobby turned his head, making eye contact with David. Blue eyes focused on his cheek, and after a flash of confusion, anger settled over his face. “Bobby, did Jon do this?”
Bobby nodded, looking down at his desk. “We… had an argument.”
The silence that followed Bobby’s statement was suffocating, and Bobby wished that David would just start on one of his tangents about something and they could just act like nothing had happened.
Hodges’ hand on his shoulder slid down to his upper arm and started tugging him up. “C’mon, Dawson, stand up for a moment.” Bobby complied, heaving himself up onto his feet.
He turned to David to ask why he had to stand when arms circled around him, pulling him close.
A tear slipped down his cheek, and Bobby - being held so stiffly, and uncomfortably, but still being held - let the rest come out. His head dropped down onto Hodges’ shoulder and his own arms came up to clutch the back of the other’s lab coat.
“It’s… well, it’s not okay,” David muttered, voice choppy and unsure, “but it will be. I’m obviously here. And Jacqui. And they might not know the reasoning behind it, but the other techs will happily help to hide evidence for anything that… might befall Jon.”
Bobby couldn't help but laugh, though it was more like a choked sob.
“Obviously, I can’t give details. Plausible deniability.” David leaned his head against Bobby’s, pulling him in tighter. “Really, should’ve seen this coming; what kind of self-respecting man spells ‘Jon’ without an ‘H’?”
Hodges kept up a steady stream of words. Bobby recognised that most of them were more jokes, while the others were awkward platitudes. Somewhere along the line Hodges started to sway them, his inherent need to move taking hold. Bobby just melted into the rocking motion, fresh tears soaking David’s coat.
“I jus’ don't know what I did,” Bobby choked out, breaking into Hodges mid-sentence. “I tried, Dave, I did.”
“You didn't do anything wrong, Dawson. Some people are… not made to be with others.” Hodges ran a hand up and down Bobby’s back before resting it in between his shoulder blades. “And I mean Jon, not you– if you thought I meant it that way.”
Bobby just nodded again.
They lapsed into silence, David holding Bobby and letting him sniffle into his lab coat. The trace analyst ran his hand up and down Bobby’s spine every now and then, his own posture still held taught.
Bobby did appreciate it; the comfort, even if Hodges still couldn’t quite figure out how to relax into it himself.
It was no secret that David wasn't the best at the physical displays of affection. Though, it had been confirmed that it wasn't because he didn't like it, he was just unused to it. So, it was rare to get an arm around the shoulder. A hug, initiated by Hodges, was unheard of.
Bobby allowed himself a little smile as he continued to slump into David’s arms.
“Hey, Bobby–” Bobby felt it as Hodges turned to the door to see Warrick in the doorway, presumably with an evidence bag in hand. Bobby couldn't bring himself to lift his head off of David’s shoulder, even as his cheeks started to flush with embarrassment at being found crying by someone that was only really a colleague. Or a work friend at best. “Are you– is he okay?”
Hodges shook his head, holding his arms around Bobby tighter. “You might wanna come back later.” Warrick nodded, giving a concerned glance to the ballistics tech. The CSI started to walk away when Hodges called out. “Hey, could you get Jacqui?”
Warrick nodded, before he started to walk away with a touch of haste.
Jacqui didn’t dawdle in getting to the two lab analysts, her steps echoing slightly under the hubbub of the lab as she made it to ballistics.
Like Hodges, one glance at Bobby had her immediately cursing Jon’s bloodline both past and potentially future. Thankfully, Bobby had calmed down by then, and simply let the vague threats to his ex wash over him.
Jacqui and David had then very definitively confirmed that Jon and him had officially broken up, which Bobby somewhat tearfully confirmed.
After another round of hugs, this time from Jacqui, and Jacqui using her makeup to conceal the darkening bruise, Bobby had them all get back to work. They’d agreed, hesitantly, and only with a promise that Bobby would page them if he needed anything.
Thankfully, the rest of shift went by with little excitement. Nick stopped by to apologise. Bobby then apologised in turn for shouting. Warrick also dropped off his evidence, mercifully not mentioning the prior situation. Nobody else mentioned anything, so Bobby had to hope that nothing had spread too far.
In the locker room, he was cornered by Jacqui and David again, who were insistent that he not be alone at his apartment. At least for that night. David even offered his spare room. It was normally reserved for his mother, but she was off touring Europe.
Bobby eventually caved underneath their combined fussing. Hodges didn’t even let him drive his own car on the way over, making Bobby sit in the passenger seat.
It was touching, how much they cared.
If a few more tears squeezed out on the ride to Hodges’, then the man didn’t mention it.
Bobby loved his friends. And he was so very grateful that they loved him back.
They were on David’s sofa, empty ice cream tubs left on the coffee table, and some nature documentary was playing quietly on the TV. David himself was rattling off about what he’d done that day, and how the CSIs didn’t appreciate him nearly enough.
He said that Bobby didn’t have to worry about rumours about him and Nick, as he and Jacqui had successfully muddied the waters. All he would have to deal with was people thinking Nick accidentally hit him in the face with a locker door. David had been spreading more outlandish gossip in order to make Jacqui’s seem more true.
“Hey,” Hodges turned to the other man at the soft interruption. “Thanks, Dave. For… y’know.” Bobby made a gesture to the room with his hand, looking resolutely at the school of fish on the screen.
“What else are colleagues for, Dawson?”
Bobby fought against the burning behind his eyes and nodded.
And later, falling asleep in a foreign bed, Bobby let himself cry at the relationship he’d lost and would never get the chance to recover.
Notes:
That’s ch3 >:3
The idea of this chapter is basically the whole reason I started writing this fic (a couple months ago wow time flies) and it makes me happy to see it finally out there for y’all to read :D
I hope you enjoyed, and if you feel so inclined leave a comment of what you thought :D
See you next week for the final chapter!! :0
Have an awesome day/night!! Take care :3
Chapter 4: I wonder what, underneath the cold, lies unseen.
Summary:
An epilogue for the gang :D
Notes:
This is it y’all, the final chapter :0
It’s bittersweet posting this one, because A: it’s finished, but B: it’s finished .
I hope you enjoy!!!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Getting over Jon was not as easy as it really should have been. But Bobby got there.
After blocking his number, taking back the house key, and having to turn the man away when he showed up to ‘apologise’, Bobby was getting better.
He ended up staying at Hodges’ place for a couple more days, and the man took every opportunity having a captive audience provided. By the end of his stay, he had an extensive knowledge on rare Las Vegas plants, how to raise hamsters, and the three species of flying squirrel in North America. Bobby was glad for the distraction, though he took equal opportunity to complain about the constant chatter.
The rumours around the lab were, as he was informed, quite mild. Thankfully, Bobby didn’t have to go around wearing Jacqui’s makeup— the bruising went down pretty quickly. And the only others that knew the gossip was wrong were Nick and Warrick. Which wasn't a problem, seeing as both of them were too unsure to confront him.
But time passed, and Bobby’s outburst faded into a distant memory. Jacqui and David let up on their unique ways of hovering. The other Lab rats made jokes that Bobby should look out for doors, and the CSIs probably didn't even remember it happened.
All was back how it should be.
The break room was quiet but no less occupied when the loud squeaks of Greg’s sneakers strolled in. He didn’t disturb the atmosphere much, aside from Bobby and Archie looking up to greet him with a short nod and a smile.
Hodges was pouring over a book of animal hairs for comparison, once again trying to race the database, while Bobby and Jacqui were having a moment to rest over coffee. Archie sat at one of the tables, his sandwich in hand and a magazine laid out before him.
Greg pressed the button on the coffee machine, his own Blue Hawaiian trickling through in place of the government-provided ‘coffee’. “So, is anyone else working on the Johnson case?”
Bobby didn’t know which case that was, shaking his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw David tense, giving Greg a patent-pending Look. “What of it, Sanders?”
Greg shrugged one shoulder, eyes on the floor. Bobby frowned. Greg was the most confident person in the whole lab.
“I hear the guy was pretty gay.”
The atmosphere of the room tensed. David didn’t seem any different, already locked stiff, but Jacqui was now glancing over the top of her cup, expression purposefully mild. Bobby himself felt his hands and head go cold. Archie, oblivious to the tension, just nodded and went on reading.
“Again,” Hodges cut through, even as he leaned back in his chair. “What of it?”
The DNA tech shrugged again, pouring himself a coffee when the machine impatiently started to beep. “I just… wanna know what you all think of… people like that.” Greg grabbed the sugar, tearing open the paper packet and stirring it in. “Do you guys think it’s… wrong, or are you, like, okay with that?”
“Because… well—” Greg turned back to face the room, his shoulders tense, “I’m bisexual. And I don’t want to be wondering whether you all would hate me.”
Bobby nearly dropped his cup. Looking around, everyone was in various levels of surprise.
Except David. He didn’t seem fazed. He had, in fact, relaxed by a large margin.
“I’m straight,” he said, “But I don’t care what you do or with whom you do it.”
Greg smiled slightly at that, letting himself relax a touch. Jacqui shrugged.
“I’m a lesbian.”
“Well,” Archie spoke up, “as a Trekkie I’m fundamentally required to be accepting. But I’d think no differently of you even if I wasn’t. You’re my friend.”
The room slowly started to loosen up. Brown eyes turned to Bobby, and he couldn’t help the nip of anxiety in his gut. Which was ridiculous, because it was obvious that nobody in the room would judge him for who he was.
On the other hand, nothing good had ever come from him saying those words. His family practically disowned him, he had to move crime labs once or twice, and it led to him dating Jon.
Bobby swallowed, glancing at Jacqui, who was looking back with soft eyes, and then at Greg, who was brave enough to share that part of himself even though it could’ve ended so very badly.
Bobby let himself smile, even if it was weak. “Greg, I’m gay, don’ worry yourself.”
The man chuckled, looking between his coworkers and friends with almost palpable relief. “Man, and here I thought if anyone would be gay it was Hodges.”
Said man snorted, raising an eyebrow at the younger tech. “And I knew you were bi without even having to talk to you.” At their confused glances, David threw a hand up in Greg’s direction. “Just look at him.”
The others looked between Hodges and Greg, searching for a tell. Sure, Greg dressed a bit strange, but aside from that Bobby definitely couldn’t see it.
Hodges sighed. “You’re all blind.”
Just then, Mandy walked in, beelining for the smell of a caffeine that didn't promise death.
“Hey, Mandy,” Greg caught her attention, “You gay?”
“Pass me the salt?”
Greg passed the salt shaker over the table, Archie taking it with a nod in thanks before generously dusting his fried eggs.
The Lab Rats were having their monthly breakfast meeting. Strictly speaking, it was their dinner, but it was still seven in the morning. The diner was full to the brim with people quickly grabbing something on their way to work, creating a loud, chaotic environment. After the quiet lab, it made for nice white noise.
“Arch?” Mandy muttered around a mouthful of pancake, ignoring Hodges’ gagging noises at her action. “You still got that extra sugar?”
Strictly speaking, Mandy was the print tech from swing shift, and was actually having an early breakfast unlike the rest of them. But she did overtime often enough that she worked the night shift regularly ( and often covered Jacqui when she was babysitting her niece ), and was permitted to join them. She got bonus points for having the other shift’s gossip.
Archie nodded, and grabbed the paper sachet. As he moved his hand to toss it to her, he caught the rim of his orange juice. The fruit juice went flying over his food, ruining perfectly good eggs. It started to spill over the edge and the table rushed to throw whatever paper towels they had towards him. “Could someone grab some more tissues?” They were still a few towels short.
“I’ll get ‘em,” Bobby volunteered, already standing from his seat.
The napkins weren’t kept far from their table, but the diner was packed with the breakfast rush, making it more tedious to navigate. Bobby murmured a few apologies under his breath as he bumped shoulders with busy business employees just trying to get a decent meal.
After weaving through the crowd, he grabbed a handful of the paper napkins. It was definitely more than he would guess they’d need. But historical evidence suggests that something else would get spilled sooner or later; as you could expect with a group of six bone-tired scientists.
Bobby turned to head back to the table, nearly dropping his fresh acquisition when he walked into a fellow customer. “Sorry, I didn’t see ya’ there…”
The ballistics tech’s words trailed off looking at the man. Soft, fluffy brown hair, warm brown eyes framed by wire-rim glasses, and a little taller than Bobby himself. He was wearing a business suit, but even if he wasn’t Bobby thinks he would’ve been handsome either way.
Bobby ignored his rapidly warming cheeks. The man gave a lopsided grin. “It’s alright, I wasn’t paying attention that well.”
Bobby nodded, smiling tight-lipped to avoid blurting something he’d regret. Because all of a sudden that grin was making his knees weak. He averted his eyes to his hands. “I should, uh, let ya’-“ Bobby made a gesture to the self-serve station. “Have a nice dinner.”
The man - the cute, handsome man - went to respond, before tilting his head with a confused look. Bobby stared back, his words finally catching up to him. He smiled tightly then ducked his head and fled back to the table.
Bobby dumped the napkins in front of Archie, digging back into his omelette. He didn’t dare look up, his face still hot and his heart still making itself unpleasantly known. He just focused on the taste of salt, veggies, and eggs from his omelette. Archie muttered as he soaked up the spilt juice, and—
And it was quiet. Not the diner; that was still loud as ever with clinking plates and glasses and layered chatter. That wasn’t it. Bobby glanced up from his meal, meeting four pairs of eyes that glistened in a way that made him nervous. It was his table that was quiet.
“…Y’alright?”
Next to him, Jacqui leaned over, resting one arm on the table and raising an eyebrow. “You do realise we saw that, right?” And just to rub it in, she slowly pointed a look at The Man who was now stirring about four sugars into his coffee.
Bobby cleared his throat, looking back down at his plate and pushing around his next bite. “And?”
“Bobby.” Across the table, Greg looked entirely exasperated, leaning forward. “You should ask him out!”
The ballistics tech shook his head. “No, Greg, I— I can’t just ask him out.” Bobby abandoned his food in favour of crossing his arms across his chest. “Aside from the fact that I jus’ royally embarrassed myself, there’s no way I can assume he’s into guys!”
On the few occasions that Bobby had dared to ask a guy on a date outside of certain bars it hadn’t gone well. At best they gave a polite smile and a no. At worst? Well, there was a reason Bobby transferred from Georgia.
His friends collectively groaned. Bobby sank further into himself, shoulders scrunching around his head as if to protect it. “Bobby, please, ask him out. I promise we won’t even haze the guy until a couple weeks in.” Because that was supposed to be Mandy’s idea of an incentive.
“‘S not that,” Bobby muttered. He could feel everyone’s stares, though he didn’t look up to meet them. “I don’ wanna… make a scene or somethin’.”
Archie hummed next to him. “What if, and hear me out -,” the ballistics tech used every shred of will he had not to get up and leave, “- but if we knew he liked guys, would you ask him?”
It… was a tempting offer. Not that there was a way for the others to know without asking him themselves, so it was a pointless thought. But… “Yea, maybe.”
Of course, Bobby made a mistake. He gave the Lab Rats a goal. Jacqui and Greg immediately turned to David, who was sitting between them. Up till now he hadn’t really been participating in the peer pressure.
Greg started batting David’s arm. David, who had been happily eating his waffles, sighed. “Yes, Sanders?”
“Y’know how you could just tell I was bi?” Greg smirked at Bobby. “You can tell with most people, right? How long do you need to know someone you can tell?”
Bobby nearly scoffed. Then a memory came back from months ago, after the lab explosion.
“I’ve known you were gay since we first met,” David smirked. “I’m not blind, Dawson. I just don’t care.”
And David had been able to tell that Jacqui was a lesbian as well. Bobby didn’t know how long that took him to figure out. If it had been as quick as his previous claims? That would suggest a trend.
“It’s a gift and a curse,” Hodges said, interrupting Bobby’s progressively derailing train of thought. “A reliable sixth sense, if you will.”
Bobby’s stomach twisted with butterflies as David smirked, then turned in his seat, looking across the diner. Greg gave Bobby a thumbs up and a grin.
“That man.” David turned back around with a solemn nod. “He’s bisexual.”
The others all turned to Bobby with expectant grins. Bobby sighed.
He stood up, glaring half heartedly at all of them as he stepped away. As he left, David caught his arm, slipping a pen into his grip. Bobby opened his mouth to ask, but David just shooed him away with a wink.
Once again, Bobby wormed his way among the people. The guy was sitting in a window seat, enjoying his breakfast.
Bobby almost stopped and turned back, but the thought of how his friends - dear as they were - would tease him forever probably— Bobby nervously kept going.
The man noticed Bobby walking up, and gave him a slightly confused smile. Bobby smiled back while his stomach flipped.
“Hi. I’m sorry for bumpin’ into ya earlier,” he started, trying not to come off too awkward. “But I was wonderin’…” Bobby had the man’s undivided attention, and the slight blush he had deepened. “Would you like to go out? For coffee or somethin’?”
The man smiled, a faint blush going across the tips of his ears. “That sounds nice.” Bobby grinned. The man held up his hand for a handshake. “I’m Mark Worth.”
Bobby shook his hand, his poor heart skipping another beat. “Bobby- Bobby Dawson. I should—“ Bobby patted himself down for the pen Hodges had given him and grabbed a tissue from the table. He shakily wrote down his number. “Call me? Or text, and we can set up a date?”
Mark took the number and folded it, putting it in his breast pocket. “I will, Bobby. It was lovely meeting you. See you soon?” Mark took the pen, writing down his own number and giving it and the pen back to Bobby.
“You too, see you soon.”
Bobby smiled and retreated back to his table.
The other techs looked at him, a question in their eyes that they already knew the answer to.
Bobby sat down in his seat, grabbing his cutlery and starting to eat his cooled omelette. After a moment, he handed David back his pen.
“So?”
“His name’s Mark,” Bobby gave the other techs. “And we’re gonna arrange to go for coffee.”
A quiet cheer went round the table, and Archie affectionately bumped his shoulder.
Bobby couldn’t restrain a bright grin.
Yeah. Bobby loved his friends.
I saw the brook, frozen in winter.
Overcast skies reflecting a silver sheen,
A mottled surface, like glass in the hand of the maker.
I wonder what, underneath the cold, lies unseen.
Each day towards spring it cracked and thawed;
Rivulets running forth with life and mirth.
The coating of frost, once sharp, softened.
Green shoots rising up around in a mirror of rebirth.
Life melted its edges bit by bit, getting closer to the heart.
Against all odds nature won over its past identity,
With subtle changes, unstoppable in its path,
The brook had fled last season’s cold claws, embracing warm intensity.
And the brook flowed as a river, bringing forth abundance,
Snowdrop blooms leading way to daisies and sweetness,
Bird, hare, and deer alike finding peace by its side.
The cycle would continue one day; nature’s waltz of motion and stillness.
But today winter’s brook is free.
- Winter’s Brook, R.N.
Notes:
And they live happily ever after :)
This has been so much fun to write and post, and I dearly hope that y’all have enjoyed this as much as me :D
I feel it’s absolutely necessary to thank Astute_Potato especially for their kind comments they’ve left on this work, I’m half convinced that out of the 20 or so hits this has gotten at least half are from them lol
Hope y’all enjoyed the poetry :3
I hope you have the best day ever, and that y’all take care of yourselves!!
Thank you for reading
astute_potato (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sat 03 May 2025 01:13AM UTC
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AkaKosai on Chapter 1 Sat 03 May 2025 03:04PM UTC
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astute_potato (Guest) on Chapter 2 Sat 10 May 2025 03:13AM UTC
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AkaKosai on Chapter 2 Sat 10 May 2025 02:46PM UTC
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astute_potato (Guest) on Chapter 3 Sun 18 May 2025 03:20PM UTC
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AkaKosai on Chapter 3 Tue 20 May 2025 06:49AM UTC
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