Numb3rs 100 Prompts
Cigarettes

Conversation and Further Conversation

Drugs

Gambling

Humanity

Starting Over

Storm

Temperature

Thaw

Sequence Charlie knows this pattern.

Tools of the Trade - A Colby/Charlie romance told through their stuff.

Series: Twenty Kisses
The Thank You Kiss

Voluntary Madness - Its 4:00 in the afternoon on ( Read more... )

Three more kiss!fic to go, and then I can stop telling you about how lostwiginity posted a link to an article and mentioned it would make good fics ( Read more... )

“That’s it.”

“What’s it?”

“This isn’t working. I’ve passed the point of no return. Too much info. Cannot be done. I’ve only got one option.”

“Flunk?”

“Two options. I’m going to throw myself at Professor Eppes.”

“…”

“You’re not going to stop me?”

“No. See, either he says yes and you have an awesome story or he says no and I have ( Read more... )

The Math Department’s been at war for years.

Sure, Math has superior numbers, it’s CalSci, but the enemy is resilient, willful, passionate.

Their leader sits across the wide wooden table from Charlie. She eyes him over her glasses.

“We might,” she says, “be willing to scrape some money out of our language department.”

Charlie sees ( Read more... )

This, now, is actually the most difficult part.

Charlie is almost entirely sure he’s heading in the wrong direction. The given information is so lost in a sea of “therefore”s and “this shows”s, he can barely see where he started from.

The board is covered in blurred figures and graphs, practically incomprehensible, even to him. Charlie stares ( Read more... )

“You hate all your classes.”

“I especially hate this class. This is the math class from hell. You know those nightmares you have in high school where you come in and the board is in Aramaic? That’s this class every day.”

“So go in for help. He’s only in his office every single day.”

“He just makes an analogy about ducks eating popcorn and ( Read more... )

The girls are drunk. The kind of drunk you say with two syllables. Der-unk. Drunker than Don. Drunker than the guy who’s name Don can’t remember who is currently asleep on the living room floor. Certainly drunker than he would ever dare bring anyone home if his parents weren’t away celebrating somebody’s wedding somewhere.

The girls are so drunk ( Read more... )

When the temperature rises, whether due to seasonal swap, climate change or long, lingering looks after too much time spent apart, it brings condensation. Tiny droplets run down the back of Charlie’s neck, under his shirt collar. The new, soft, brotherly touches each need to be analyzed and cataloged against a sliding scale. When the temperature ( Read more... )

Stupid day.

Charlie swooned, grabbed hold of podium and shook his head viciously to clear the little dots. He was delivering a lecture on game theory, but any other petty details like which lecture or where he’d paused had been swept out of his mind to make room for every detail of shivers and sweat and looking and feeling incredibly unfit for ( Read more... )

The wind blew another gust, momentarily increasing the number and angle of drops hitting the surface of the koi pond. The water dripped through his hair and down behind his ears.

“Charlie!”

Each drop made a ripple. Each ripple expanded, encountering other ripples. He could almost grasp at the edges of something. Just another moment. Or ( Read more... )