New Numb3rs fic for Numb3rs100
Title: Dark Corners of Parking Garages
Fandom: Numb3rs
Characters: Amita, OMC (Don)
Prompt: #113 Garage
Word Count: 200
Rating: FRM (Language, abuse)
Summary: Picking up Larry and Megan
Disclaimer: The closest thing I own to Numb3rs is a calculator.
Author's Notes: See Assertion
“Why did they have to fly into Philadelphia,” a tall, dark haired man slammed the car into park.
Amita winced at the sound of the grinding gears, “It was cheaper for them and, since they wouldn’t let me help pay, I couldn’t complain.”
“You could have at least made them fly into Newark,” he climbed out of the car and slammed the door (again Amita winced). “At least there my badge has some authority and we wouldn’t have to park in this fucking garage.”
“I called the airline; their plane is running on time. I’m sure that we won’t be in here long,” Amita defended as she scurried to keep up with his long strides.
“It’s like a fucking five bucks per minute.”
Amita chuckled slightly, “It isn’t that bad.”
“It is that bad,” he pivoted on one foot and bore down on her. “If I say it is that bad, then it is that bad. Got it?”
“Yes, Don. I’m sorry, Don. I should have come get them myself.”
Don’s hands gripped her waist, applying enough pressure to her hips to leave bruises… more bruises. “Dammit, woman, you think I’d let you drive all the way here by yourself?”
Fandom: Numb3rs
Characters: Amita, OMC (Don)
Prompt: #113 Garage
Word Count: 200
Rating: FRM (Language, abuse)
Summary: Picking up Larry and Megan
Disclaimer: The closest thing I own to Numb3rs is a calculator.
Author's Notes: See Assertion
“Why did they have to fly into Philadelphia,” a tall, dark haired man slammed the car into park.
Amita winced at the sound of the grinding gears, “It was cheaper for them and, since they wouldn’t let me help pay, I couldn’t complain.”
“You could have at least made them fly into Newark,” he climbed out of the car and slammed the door (again Amita winced). “At least there my badge has some authority and we wouldn’t have to park in this fucking garage.”
“I called the airline; their plane is running on time. I’m sure that we won’t be in here long,” Amita defended as she scurried to keep up with his long strides.
“It’s like a fucking five bucks per minute.”
Amita chuckled slightly, “It isn’t that bad.”
“It is that bad,” he pivoted on one foot and bore down on her. “If I say it is that bad, then it is that bad. Got it?”
“Yes, Don. I’m sorry, Don. I should have come get them myself.”
Don’s hands gripped her waist, applying enough pressure to her hips to leave bruises… more bruises. “Dammit, woman, you think I’d let you drive all the way here by yourself?”