New Numb3rs fic - Don/Charlie
May. 9th, 2006 09:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
castalieI didn't sleep enough. Not nearly enough *rubs eyes*
Today's study program is a book by Finkielkraut; watch me try to look enthusiastic *fails* Okay whatever!
To encourage myselfand procrastinate here I am posting my brand new Numb3rs fic, yay! Betaed by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
starwatcher307 and yami_tai, betas extraordinaire - thank you, mates, I don't know what I'd do without you! *clings*
The story was written forsockich - she was talking about what had really happened in the kitchen during the "Backscatter" tag scene; the visual was lovely and my muses decided to come out and play :-)
Title: Kitchen Interlude - might be temporary, or not, the jury's still out on that one.
Pairing: Don/Charlie
Rating: PG13
Word Count: circa 965
Summary: What really happened in the kitchen while Alan and David were busy chatting in the dinner room.
Story notes: Missing scene from "Backscatter" so you might see it as spoilery.
"Hey, Chuck, you need some help back there?" Don asked as he stood and headed to the kitchen. "Come on, Susie Homemaker, we're ready to eat." He opened the door and stepped into the other room.
The sight that greeted him brought him to a halt for a moment; Charlie was leaning against the sink, his arms spread on either side of him. He was looking in Don's direction, an unreadable expression on his face. The dishes were on the island, ready to be brought to the table, but Charlie didn't look like he was in any hurry to move.
"Hey buddy, what you doing?" Don asked, stepping close to his brother.
"Waiting for you?"
Don's eyes crinkled at that. "Applying math to predict my behavior now, are you?"
Charlie shrugged, his lips curving in a smile. "I just know you, Don. You and your stomach. You have the patience of a three year-old when you're hungry; you were bound to come get me if it took me a bit too long."
Don didn't reply; he just reached out a hand to Charlie's face and slowly caressed his cheek, loving how Charlie leaned into the touch. But instead of calming him, the tender moment only brought him back to everything that happened the past couple of days, and made him even more painfully conscious of what he could have lost. The knot in his stomach seemed to get bigger and a shiver ran up his spine.
His hand, that was now playing with a curl, tightened painfully in Charlie's hair. Charlie didn't protest though; he just opened his eyes and stared at him, expectantly. What he expected, exactly, Don couldn't say. Charlie was like an open book, except when he wasn't.
He didn't mind though - it made being with Charlie even more challenging sometimes. Don bent his head toward his brother, their foreheads touching, and they stayed that way for a couple of seconds, though it seemed like it lasted a lifetime to Don.
Then he took a shuddering breath; he plastered himself against Charlie, not allowing even the smallest space between their bodies, and held him tight. He buried his head in Charlie's neck, needing to feel him, to smell him, needing the reassurance that everything was fine, everything was back to normal; wanting to know, without the shadow of a doubt, deep inside him, that Charlie was here by his side, where he belonged.
"God, Charlie," he whispered roughly, unable to say more.
Charlie didn't say anything, just held Don in return, matching strength for strength. His head burrowed deep in the crook of Don's shoulder, too.
When he felt like he could let go of Charlie, Don pulled away, though their bodies were still touching; he didn't know if he could stand breaking contact so soon. He slid a hand under Charlie's shirt, wanting to touch skin. His hand came to rest at the small of Charlie's back, Don's fingers stroking his brother's body softly, almost reverently. Then he bent his head and kissed the corner of Charlie's mouth, little kisses like a butterfly's touch, before his tongue came out to lick and encourage the delicious lips to open. Charlie complied immediately, eagerly; Don slid his tongue inside, tasting Charlie, reveling in it, and let go.
He tightened his hold of the warm body, feeling Charlie's own hands clinging to him in return, giving as good as he got, as always.
The kiss deepened; it spoke of promises, of apologies, of fear and relief. It might have lasted ten seconds or ten years; Don had no idea and he didn't care. He was kissing Charlie, warm, pliant Charlie, and Charlie was kissing him back, trying to crawl inside him, making all those sweet little noises he always made, rendered even sexier due to the fact that they had to stay as silent as possible, and Don could have stayed that way forever.
But he knew he couldn't so he withdrew, breathing hard, full of his brother, loving the idea that their scent and taste were entangled right now. He looked down at Charlie; his face was flushed, his eyes at half-mast. They had to stop before it got really out of hand. He knew that, too.
"We have to go back, Charlie," he whispered.
"I know. I know that, Don."
Don shivered at his brother's husky voice; it always turned him on when he spoke that way. But he didn't do anything. He just kissed Charlie one last time, long and deep and, when he pulled away - for good this time - he couldn't help pressing his pelvis against Charlie roughly, just once.
"Tonight, okay buddy?"
Charlie nodded, licking his lips. "Tonight."
They both turned to the island in the middle of the kitchen, composing themselves before joining their father and David, who might be wondering what the hell they were doing. They each took a platter - Don stealing a beer in the process - and, after a last intake of breath, smiled at each other, indicating that they were ready to face the two men in the other room.
Don jerked his head to the door. "Go on, Chuck, after you."
Charlie glared at him, his back to the door so that he could open it with his hands full. He walked backward to the dinning room, looking indignant.
"You call me Chuck one more time, and I swear..."
Don laughed at that, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. They were both okay, everyone was okay. It was just another day in the life of Don and Charlie Eppes and, as long as they ended it together, around their father's table, he could handle everything that was thrown their way...
The End
Now off to study... or procrastinate some more. Hmm, decision decision!
Today's study program is a book by Finkielkraut; watch me try to look enthusiastic *fails* Okay whatever!
To encourage myself
starwatcher307 and yami_tai, betas extraordinaire - thank you, mates, I don't know what I'd do without you! *clings*The story was written for
sockich - she was talking about what had really happened in the kitchen during the "Backscatter" tag scene; the visual was lovely and my muses decided to come out and play :-)Title: Kitchen Interlude - might be temporary, or not, the jury's still out on that one.
Pairing: Don/Charlie
Rating: PG13
Word Count: circa 965
Summary: What really happened in the kitchen while Alan and David were busy chatting in the dinner room.
Story notes: Missing scene from "Backscatter" so you might see it as spoilery.
"Hey, Chuck, you need some help back there?" Don asked as he stood and headed to the kitchen. "Come on, Susie Homemaker, we're ready to eat." He opened the door and stepped into the other room.
The sight that greeted him brought him to a halt for a moment; Charlie was leaning against the sink, his arms spread on either side of him. He was looking in Don's direction, an unreadable expression on his face. The dishes were on the island, ready to be brought to the table, but Charlie didn't look like he was in any hurry to move.
"Hey buddy, what you doing?" Don asked, stepping close to his brother.
"Waiting for you?"
Don's eyes crinkled at that. "Applying math to predict my behavior now, are you?"
Charlie shrugged, his lips curving in a smile. "I just know you, Don. You and your stomach. You have the patience of a three year-old when you're hungry; you were bound to come get me if it took me a bit too long."
Don didn't reply; he just reached out a hand to Charlie's face and slowly caressed his cheek, loving how Charlie leaned into the touch. But instead of calming him, the tender moment only brought him back to everything that happened the past couple of days, and made him even more painfully conscious of what he could have lost. The knot in his stomach seemed to get bigger and a shiver ran up his spine.
His hand, that was now playing with a curl, tightened painfully in Charlie's hair. Charlie didn't protest though; he just opened his eyes and stared at him, expectantly. What he expected, exactly, Don couldn't say. Charlie was like an open book, except when he wasn't.
He didn't mind though - it made being with Charlie even more challenging sometimes. Don bent his head toward his brother, their foreheads touching, and they stayed that way for a couple of seconds, though it seemed like it lasted a lifetime to Don.
Then he took a shuddering breath; he plastered himself against Charlie, not allowing even the smallest space between their bodies, and held him tight. He buried his head in Charlie's neck, needing to feel him, to smell him, needing the reassurance that everything was fine, everything was back to normal; wanting to know, without the shadow of a doubt, deep inside him, that Charlie was here by his side, where he belonged.
"God, Charlie," he whispered roughly, unable to say more.
Charlie didn't say anything, just held Don in return, matching strength for strength. His head burrowed deep in the crook of Don's shoulder, too.
When he felt like he could let go of Charlie, Don pulled away, though their bodies were still touching; he didn't know if he could stand breaking contact so soon. He slid a hand under Charlie's shirt, wanting to touch skin. His hand came to rest at the small of Charlie's back, Don's fingers stroking his brother's body softly, almost reverently. Then he bent his head and kissed the corner of Charlie's mouth, little kisses like a butterfly's touch, before his tongue came out to lick and encourage the delicious lips to open. Charlie complied immediately, eagerly; Don slid his tongue inside, tasting Charlie, reveling in it, and let go.
He tightened his hold of the warm body, feeling Charlie's own hands clinging to him in return, giving as good as he got, as always.
The kiss deepened; it spoke of promises, of apologies, of fear and relief. It might have lasted ten seconds or ten years; Don had no idea and he didn't care. He was kissing Charlie, warm, pliant Charlie, and Charlie was kissing him back, trying to crawl inside him, making all those sweet little noises he always made, rendered even sexier due to the fact that they had to stay as silent as possible, and Don could have stayed that way forever.
But he knew he couldn't so he withdrew, breathing hard, full of his brother, loving the idea that their scent and taste were entangled right now. He looked down at Charlie; his face was flushed, his eyes at half-mast. They had to stop before it got really out of hand. He knew that, too.
"We have to go back, Charlie," he whispered.
"I know. I know that, Don."
Don shivered at his brother's husky voice; it always turned him on when he spoke that way. But he didn't do anything. He just kissed Charlie one last time, long and deep and, when he pulled away - for good this time - he couldn't help pressing his pelvis against Charlie roughly, just once.
"Tonight, okay buddy?"
Charlie nodded, licking his lips. "Tonight."
They both turned to the island in the middle of the kitchen, composing themselves before joining their father and David, who might be wondering what the hell they were doing. They each took a platter - Don stealing a beer in the process - and, after a last intake of breath, smiled at each other, indicating that they were ready to face the two men in the other room.
Don jerked his head to the door. "Go on, Chuck, after you."
Charlie glared at him, his back to the door so that he could open it with his hands full. He walked backward to the dinning room, looking indignant.
"You call me Chuck one more time, and I swear..."
Don laughed at that, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. They were both okay, everyone was okay. It was just another day in the life of Don and Charlie Eppes and, as long as they ended it together, around their father's table, he could handle everything that was thrown their way...
The End
Now off to study... or procrastinate some more. Hmm, decision decision!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-05-09 10:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-09 09:05 pm (UTC)And thanks for the compliment, I'm glad you enjoyed it *g* As for Tonight... well, we'll have to see whether the muses cooperate. They're so fickle, you know?