Numb3rsWriteoff Angst (Variable)
Title: Finding x.
Author: CPWatcher
Pairing/Characters: Don/Amita, Charlie/Amita, Don/Robin
Rating/Category: R
Spoilers: None really.
Summary: Sometimes the solution is more complicated than the problem.
Notes/Warnings: Partner betrayal.
A/N: Sorry, I tried to get this posted sooner. But I'm out of town on business, and the hotel has a crappy internet connection. :(
Also, no beta, so all mistakes are mine.
Finding x.
They had been so careful. Yeah, they flirted with each other all the time, just joking around. They were never going to do anything. It was all in good fun. Amita was with Charlie. End of story. Still, they flirted, just a harmless game between them.
At least it had been.
Charlie is away at a conference and Alan is spending the weekend with Millie. Don drove Amita home after a night of celebratory drinking for a case resolved. He flirts with her, just as he always did. And she flirts right back, just like always. But unlike any time before, there is no one around to act as a buffer, no one to be a shield. The alcohol has made his tongue a little loose, and her inhibitions a little lower. So when Don slouches down in the couch, legs spread wide, offering to give Amita a ride like Charlie never could, Amita straddles him and kisses him and tells him to fuck her.
The sex is fast, messy, with no finesse. Don merely fishes his cock out the fly of his pants, pushes Amita’s panties to the side, and then fucks up into her. She comes, grinding down on his erection. He shoots his load deep inside her moments later.
Afterwards, when they’ve sober up, they talk about how wrong it was, what they did together, what they did to Charlie.
“Charlie and I have been married for three years. I was never supposed to cheat on my husband. Especially not with his brother.” Amita rocks her body as she sits on the far end of the couch, worry and shame marring her beautiful face.
“I know Amita. I’m sorry. We were drunk, and I should have stopped. I’m sorry.” Don tries to console her, taking the blame on himself.
“We had sex Don. Unprotected sex. What if I get pregnant? What am I supposed to do if I get pregnant?”
“You’re on the pill, right? Please tell me you’re on the pill.”
Don runs his hand nervously across the back of his neck. Amita shakes her head no. “Charlie wanted to start a family. I stopped taking the pill six months ago.”
“Fuck!” Don swears, and rises from the couch. “Ok, ok. No problem. Don’t worry about it. What are the odds right. It’s just this one time. You and Charlie have been fucking for longer and you haven’t gotten pregnant. Besides, we’re brothers; we share the same genes, right? Who’s to say it was me who got you pregnant anyway. Just make sure you have sex with Charlie as soon as he gets back, all right. Don’t worry, Amita. Everything will work out fine. No one has to know anything. This will be our secret.”
~#~#~#~#~
Little Charlie is three years old and in the hospital, in desperate need of a liver transplant. Amita, Charlie, Alan and Don are in the doctor’s office awaiting the results of the organ match process. They had all gone in for testing, being the child’s closest relatives.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Knowles, the head of the transplant team. I have good news to share. We’ve got a match.”
Amita smiles, tears of joy streaming down her face. “Oh Dr. Knowles, thank you, thank you so very much. When can he have the surgery?”
“I’d like to get started right away. We just have to get some further lab work done on the baby’s father and we should be able to schedule surgery for tomorrow afternoon.”
Charlie rises and shakes the doctor’s hand. “That’s great. Perfect. Where would you like me to go?”
Dr. Knowles shakes his head. “I’m afraid you misunderstood me Mr. Eppes. Little Charlie has a very rare blood typing. We were only able to make a positive match with his biological father.” The doctor turns to Don. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Eppes, I can have you complete the necessary paperwork.”
Charlie grabs Don’s arm, pulling his brother around. “What is he saying, Donnie? What the fuck is he saying?”
“Charlie. Charlie, I’m sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I’m sorry.” Don sees the scowl of disappointment on his father’s face. “Dad, I’m sorry.”
Charlie hauls back and hits Don in the mouth. “You fucker. You motherfucker. How could you do this to me?”
Don doesn’t even try to block the next punch, willing to let Charlie rail on him. Amita pulls on Charlie’s arm to stop him from hitting Don again. “Stop it Charlie. Just stop it. It’s not Don’s fault. Not his alone.”
Charlie whirls around and pins Amita with a hard glare. “You’re damned right it not all his fault. How could you cheat on me Amita? How could you cheat on me with Don, my own brother? Did you fuck him in my house, in my bed?”
“It was one time, one time only.” Amita says.
“Answer the question. Did you fuck my brother in my bed? In my house?” Charlie is screaming at Amita, getting up into her face.
Don pulls Charlie away from Amita. “Listen, Charlie, it was one time. And it doesn’t matter where it happened. What matters now is that your son gets his transplant.”
“I don’t have a fucking son, Donald. That’s your fucking son, you son of a bitch. Your son. Not my son.” He turns to Amita. “And by tomorrow, I won’t have a fucking wife either. I want you out of my house.”
Alan gasps. “Charlie…”
“You can’t mean that. What about little Charlie?” Amita grabs at Charlie’s arm as he stalks away from them.
“Ask his father. Maybe Don and Robin have a spare room you can borrow. I frankly don’t give a fuck.”
Charlie storms out of the door. An ominous silence fills the room before Alan breaks it with a Yiddish curse. “Your mother is spinning in her grave, Donald. How could you? How could you? And Amita, you were like a daughter to me. Now, no more.” He walks out the room calling Charlie’s name.
Amita begins to shake violently, and Don pulls her into a tight hug. “Shh. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Charlie will come around. Everything will work itself out. What we need to do now is take care of little Charlie, all right? Come on, Amita, let’s just take care of little Charlie.”
Don and Amita follow Dr. Knowles out of the office, each knowing that none of this would just work itself out.
end
This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at numb3rswriteoff. After you’ve read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here. (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you’re done, please check out the other challenge fic at numb3rswriteoff. Thank you!
Author: CPWatcher
Pairing/Characters: Don/Amita, Charlie/Amita, Don/Robin
Rating/Category: R
Spoilers: None really.
Summary: Sometimes the solution is more complicated than the problem.
Notes/Warnings: Partner betrayal.
A/N: Sorry, I tried to get this posted sooner. But I'm out of town on business, and the hotel has a crappy internet connection. :(
Also, no beta, so all mistakes are mine.
Finding x.
They had been so careful. Yeah, they flirted with each other all the time, just joking around. They were never going to do anything. It was all in good fun. Amita was with Charlie. End of story. Still, they flirted, just a harmless game between them.
At least it had been.
Charlie is away at a conference and Alan is spending the weekend with Millie. Don drove Amita home after a night of celebratory drinking for a case resolved. He flirts with her, just as he always did. And she flirts right back, just like always. But unlike any time before, there is no one around to act as a buffer, no one to be a shield. The alcohol has made his tongue a little loose, and her inhibitions a little lower. So when Don slouches down in the couch, legs spread wide, offering to give Amita a ride like Charlie never could, Amita straddles him and kisses him and tells him to fuck her.
The sex is fast, messy, with no finesse. Don merely fishes his cock out the fly of his pants, pushes Amita’s panties to the side, and then fucks up into her. She comes, grinding down on his erection. He shoots his load deep inside her moments later.
Afterwards, when they’ve sober up, they talk about how wrong it was, what they did together, what they did to Charlie.
“Charlie and I have been married for three years. I was never supposed to cheat on my husband. Especially not with his brother.” Amita rocks her body as she sits on the far end of the couch, worry and shame marring her beautiful face.
“I know Amita. I’m sorry. We were drunk, and I should have stopped. I’m sorry.” Don tries to console her, taking the blame on himself.
“We had sex Don. Unprotected sex. What if I get pregnant? What am I supposed to do if I get pregnant?”
“You’re on the pill, right? Please tell me you’re on the pill.”
Don runs his hand nervously across the back of his neck. Amita shakes her head no. “Charlie wanted to start a family. I stopped taking the pill six months ago.”
“Fuck!” Don swears, and rises from the couch. “Ok, ok. No problem. Don’t worry about it. What are the odds right. It’s just this one time. You and Charlie have been fucking for longer and you haven’t gotten pregnant. Besides, we’re brothers; we share the same genes, right? Who’s to say it was me who got you pregnant anyway. Just make sure you have sex with Charlie as soon as he gets back, all right. Don’t worry, Amita. Everything will work out fine. No one has to know anything. This will be our secret.”
~#~#~#~#~
Little Charlie is three years old and in the hospital, in desperate need of a liver transplant. Amita, Charlie, Alan and Don are in the doctor’s office awaiting the results of the organ match process. They had all gone in for testing, being the child’s closest relatives.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Knowles, the head of the transplant team. I have good news to share. We’ve got a match.”
Amita smiles, tears of joy streaming down her face. “Oh Dr. Knowles, thank you, thank you so very much. When can he have the surgery?”
“I’d like to get started right away. We just have to get some further lab work done on the baby’s father and we should be able to schedule surgery for tomorrow afternoon.”
Charlie rises and shakes the doctor’s hand. “That’s great. Perfect. Where would you like me to go?”
Dr. Knowles shakes his head. “I’m afraid you misunderstood me Mr. Eppes. Little Charlie has a very rare blood typing. We were only able to make a positive match with his biological father.” The doctor turns to Don. “If you’ll follow me, Mr. Eppes, I can have you complete the necessary paperwork.”
Charlie grabs Don’s arm, pulling his brother around. “What is he saying, Donnie? What the fuck is he saying?”
“Charlie. Charlie, I’m sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I’m sorry.” Don sees the scowl of disappointment on his father’s face. “Dad, I’m sorry.”
Charlie hauls back and hits Don in the mouth. “You fucker. You motherfucker. How could you do this to me?”
Don doesn’t even try to block the next punch, willing to let Charlie rail on him. Amita pulls on Charlie’s arm to stop him from hitting Don again. “Stop it Charlie. Just stop it. It’s not Don’s fault. Not his alone.”
Charlie whirls around and pins Amita with a hard glare. “You’re damned right it not all his fault. How could you cheat on me Amita? How could you cheat on me with Don, my own brother? Did you fuck him in my house, in my bed?”
“It was one time, one time only.” Amita says.
“Answer the question. Did you fuck my brother in my bed? In my house?” Charlie is screaming at Amita, getting up into her face.
Don pulls Charlie away from Amita. “Listen, Charlie, it was one time. And it doesn’t matter where it happened. What matters now is that your son gets his transplant.”
“I don’t have a fucking son, Donald. That’s your fucking son, you son of a bitch. Your son. Not my son.” He turns to Amita. “And by tomorrow, I won’t have a fucking wife either. I want you out of my house.”
Alan gasps. “Charlie…”
“You can’t mean that. What about little Charlie?” Amita grabs at Charlie’s arm as he stalks away from them.
“Ask his father. Maybe Don and Robin have a spare room you can borrow. I frankly don’t give a fuck.”
Charlie storms out of the door. An ominous silence fills the room before Alan breaks it with a Yiddish curse. “Your mother is spinning in her grave, Donald. How could you? How could you? And Amita, you were like a daughter to me. Now, no more.” He walks out the room calling Charlie’s name.
Amita begins to shake violently, and Don pulls her into a tight hug. “Shh. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. Charlie will come around. Everything will work itself out. What we need to do now is take care of little Charlie, all right? Come on, Amita, let’s just take care of little Charlie.”
Don and Amita follow Dr. Knowles out of the office, each knowing that none of this would just work itself out.
end
This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at numb3rswriteoff. After you’ve read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here. (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you’re done, please check out the other challenge fic at numb3rswriteoff. Thank you!