A Vegas Story, Part 1 of 4: Dance
Title: A Vegas Story, Pt 1 of 4
Fandom: NUMB3RS
Pairing/Characters: Charlie Eppes/Don Eppes
Rating: FRAO, NC-17
Summary: Don has an unusual way to deal with his obsession with Charlie, and at Charlie's bachelor party, Don gambles on sharing it with his favorite protagonist.
Part 1 of 4 - Dance
Don and Charlie are the only ones not enjoying Charlie's bachelor's party.
Warning: Sibling incest
Note: This was written for Rounds of Kink for the prompt: "Charlie's bachelor party is his very last chance to let Charlie know how he feels, Charlie/any, Bachelor parties-strippers-public/semi-public sex,"
Word Count: 3564
Part 1: Dance
Don watched the exotic dancer in front of him twirl around her pole and wished that she did anything for him. It wasn't her fault - she seemed skilled, had a well-toned body, and even managed to look like she was having fun. Her hot-pink rhinestone getup was simultaneously sexy and playful. Any normal person who was interested in women would find her act arousing.
Don didn't.
It wouldn't have made any difference if it had been a skilled, well-toned man either. Don had tested this theory in many ways. He'd been with dozens upon dozens of men and women over the years, in every scenario that he or they had been able to come up with. Nothing had touched him.
Not until…
Don looked out over the club. It was a high-end Vegas club, appropriate for the meaningful weekend. Farther up the big room, nearer to front, Colby and David were getting a closer look at the dancers. In fact, it looked like Colby was now getting a lap-dance from one of the dancers. David was laughing and from what Don could see of Colby's face, it was beet red. Don was glad they were having fun. The rest of their party was elsewhere in the casino, probably at the blackjack tables.
There was only one person with Don.
But it was the only person that mattered.
"I'm surprised Larry hasn't been kicked out yet," Charlie said beside him. "He must have gotten better at hiding the fact he's counting cards. I should never have let the entire math department take him into the casino."
Don put a smile on his face. "Well, not the entire math department. Your female colleagues and more importantly your boss isn't here."
"Good thing," Charlie shuddered. "I guess there's an advantage to bachelor parties being traditionally men only." He paused then added, "Though I think Megan would have kept Larry under control."
"True."
"I'm worried that Matt and Kevin are helping Larry, too. I should have known the combination of math geeks and FBI geeks was going to be dangerous."
"Well," Don said. "If they get kicked out, they can come watch the show here."
"Naw, they'll just move on to another casino. I know Larry."
Though Don was relieved that Larry and his fellow cheaters wouldn't be joining them here, he made a sympathetic sound.
They lapsed into silence.
Charlie must have turned back to watch the dancer. Don kept himself from looking over to check. Charlie was only a few feet away along the bench seat at the table where they sat. Don usually tried not to let himself get this close but moving away would be too obvious.
Don took a swig of his beer and focused his eyes on something near the dancer, so that Charlie would think he was watching.
Today, this weekend, was the end of everything anyway. A small part of Don was relieved. Most of him was screaming at himself to do something.
Don hadn't known that he was defective for a long time. Growing up, he'd heard the other boys talk about getting turned on, but had thought they'd meant a purely physiological reaction. He enjoyed masturbating like anyone, and a mouth on his cock felt even better. He'd evaluated girls on their physical merits along with other boys, and even evaluated boys with a few boys. But it wasn't until he went to college and started developing understanding and language that he realized there was an actual feeling that people had about other people they wanted to have sex with. It was like discovering he was missing a sense, and no one had told him. He didn't want people, not in that way. There was always a disconnect, a glass wall between him and anyone else. He was good at empathy, and he was able to get around the wall a little bit that way, in the sense that he could tell when someone wanted him and how that made them feel. But that was as close as he ever got. He tried, oh how he tried, to break through that wall. He had sex with many people, in many ways, and went down some pretty deep rabbit holes in the search of that elusive connection.
Nothing.
He remembered finally getting a name for it, from Billy Cooper. During his stint in Fugitive Retrieval, Coop was his friend and lover. When Don had finally confessed to Coop that he felt nothing for him, Coop had smiled and said he wasn't looking for true love either. Don had felt the need to explain his problem in greater detail. Coop had listened, then laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, and said that all the best agents were sociopaths.
Sociopath. That made sense. Don was relieved to have a label for it, because it meant that others had felt this lack before. He'd enjoyed his time as Coop's lover more than he had anyone else.
Then it happened.
Shock.
A moment of pure concussive force.
In one moment, the wall shattered… for the worst possible reason.
Don had been home from Fugitive Retrieval, on one of his rare visits. He had been able to tell there was something wrong with his mother, but no diagnosis had been made yet. She had seemed happy, though, because both of her sons would be home for the first time in years. Charlie had been living in London with a woman, but he had finished his degree there and was coming back to LA to become a professor at CalSci.
Don could remember the moment perfectly. He had been sitting in the sunroom, drinking lemonade, and Charlie had rushed in to say hello.
And all the arousal, all the desire that Don had missed over the years had suddenly burst open inside him. He'd had an immediate erection, but also his skin felt on fire, his mouth dry, tingling in every extremity, his heart thudding, his body aching. It was like every description that Don had ever heard of desire exploding in him in an instant. If Don hadn't been so overwhelmed, he would have grabbed Charlie right then and kissed him and more. Fortunately, he'd only made a garbled sound, and Charlie had looked hurt and left.
Don didn't know what had made that moment different. Maybe it was the sexual confidence Charlie now had, after having a long-time lover. Charlie had grown up when Don wasn't looking. Maybe it was Charlie's smile, his enthusiasm, his… Don had no idea. But in that instant, Don had learned that he wasn't a sociopath.
He was just a pervert.
After Charlie had left, Don had managed to gather himself together enough to get unseen to the bathroom. There he'd jerked off, shaking the whole time. He'd dunked his head in a sink of water until he'd finally cooled down. He'd gone downstairs and apologized to Charlie and his parents and said that he was going to have to go to bed early, since it felt like he was getting sick. But a night away from Charlie didn't change a thing. When he had seen Charlie again the next morning, he'd wanted him just as much.
Don hadn't been able to deal with it. Other people had years as teenagers to learn to deal with sexual desire, he'd gotten all of it at once - and it was directed at his little brother.
He'd left the visit early, much to his mother's disappointment, and fled back to the coolness of Coop's company. He didn't tell Coop, of course. Or any of his lovers after that day. But the desperate desire didn't fade with time or distance. After his mother became seriously ill, he'd had to learn to live around Charlie. He worked every day to make sure Charlie had no idea how he felt about him. Don did get some relief from the pressure of his desire by finding lovers that reminded him, in any tangential way, of Charlie. He never wanted them as much as Charlie, but it was something. He also found another more unusual way of dealing with it. Soon, those weak reliefs would be all he had left.
"Do you think she's good?" Charlie asked.
"Hmm?" Don said, blinking from his reverie.
"The stripper."
"Exotic dancer," Don corrected automatically.
"Oh. Is she good?"
Don focused on the dancer and discovered that a new dancer had started her routine. Her outfit was red and black striped and she seemed similarly skilled as the previous one.
"Sure, she's great," Don said. "You like the first one better?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Don saw Charlie shrug. "Not… maybe I'm just not the…target market here. I like women who, you know, have a mathematical mind."
Don had to smile. "Maybe she does. Maybe she's moonlighting while working on her graduate degree."
"It's possible," Charlie said. "Yeah, I shouldn't judge."
"No, you shouldn't."
They watched the dancer for a moment.
"Do you want to order another drink?" Don asked.
"Naw. You know me, a lightweight."
"I think you're supposed to get drunk at your bachelor party."
"I guess so. I could try." Charlie leaned his chin on his fists, bringing him more into Don's view. "If you listen to the movies, I'm supposed to be up there with the stri-dancer, drunk and crazy and bemoaning the loss of my freewheeling bachelor days."
"You want to get up there?"
"No."
"You don't like dancing?"
"Not in public."
"You're going to have to dance at your wedding."
"Yeah," Charlie grumbled. "I'm hoping I can get out of it."
"The wedding?"
"No!" Charlie snapped. "The dancing at the wedding, zhesh."
"I know, just kidding."
"You aren't happy I'm getting married?"
"Of course, I am!" Don lied. "Amita's great!" He decided to allow himself a bit of truth. "I'm just not thrilled about you moving to England, is all."
"I can still help you with cases sometimes."
"I know, that's not what… Never mind." Don began to pick at the label on his beer bottle.
"What?"
"I just like having you around," Don said with a shrug. Even though it was torture to be so close to Charlie but not be able to touch him, it was better than being away from him. Don had tried both options.
"Thanks," Charlie said, a smile in his voice. "I'm going to miss everybody here too."
Don couldn't help himself, he said, "You grouping me with everybody else? Your favorite brother?"
"Also, technically my least-favorite brother as well."
"Gee, thanks."
"I'm going to miss you, too." Charlie patted Don's shoulder awkwardly and Don managed not to lean into his touch.
The dancer in front of them finished her act. They waited while the next dancer's name was called. Diamond or something.
"They're having fun," Charlie said. He was pointing towards where David and Colby were. Don saw that the lap dance was over but David and Colby were now surrounded by a group of laughing women, all wearing pink 'Bride Tribe' t-shirts.
"Bachelor party meets Bachelorette party," Don said. "Seems like a porn movie plot. You want to… go over there?"
Charlie quickly shook his head, 'No.'
"I wonder which one is the bride?"
Charlie pointed to one with a plastic tiara. She was draped over David.
"Ah. Think that's what Amita's bachelorette party in Reno is like?"
"I hope not!"
"Yeah…"
They lapsed into silence. The new dancer on stage was wearing a tux bikini and top hat.
Don asked, "Wish you were in Reno with Amita?"
"Naw."
"But you wish you weren't here."
Charlie paused a moment before replying. "I know this is what a bachelor party is supposed to be like, but everyone is having fun but me."
"And me."
"You could go over and hang out with the 'Bride Tribe.'"
Don shrugged.
"Right, you never have trouble getting girls."
Don shrugged again. It was true, if incomplete. To change the subject, Don said, "If you could be anywhere in the world, where would you be?"
"At home, in the garage, working," Charlie said instantly.
"Gonna miss that place, huh?"
"I… I'm sure I'll find some place in England."
Don picked more at his beer bottle label. He was already missing Charlie, already feeling like he was an ocean away, and the wedding hadn't even happened yet.
"What about you?" Charlie asked.
"What about me?"
"Yeah, if you could be anywhere in the world, where would you be?"
Without thinking, Don said, "Under this table."
"What?" Charlie laughed. "The dancing isn't that bad."
Instead of answering, Don looked around. They were in an alcove with just two tables and the other table was unoccupied. The seating was a curved bench around the edge of the alcove. It was a high-end club so the tables were covered by real cloth tablecloths. The cloth hung down to the floor which both looked nice and also had the effect of covering up anyone jerking off while watching the dancers. That probably happened a lot, and he'd bet the servers changed the tablecloths with each new customer. He felt sorry for the servers having to deal with cum-covered tablecloths, but it was probably better than the cleanup at a low-end strip club.
"You could go up to the hotel room if you're bored," Charlie grumbled. "Or go find some sports to gamble on."
"I'm okay here," Don said. He wasn't about to waste his last moments with Charlie. Not that he was making good use of them, though. He stared morosely at the dancer. This one wasn't as good, but she had a cute smile. Her eyes seemed to meet his and she winked. He forced a smile onto his face. There was no reason the dancer should think she was failing at her job. She couldn't be expected to charm a pervert.
"But you'd rather be under the table?" Charlie pressed. "Why?"
Don had to say something tonight, or he'd regret it for the years to come. He kept his eyes on the dancer. "So I can suck your cock."
Out of the corner of his eye, Don saw Charlie's head whip around and he felt the weight of Charlie's stare.
"Dammit," Charlie snapped. "Couldn't you go a whole evening without being a jerk? We're supposed to be having a great time here. It's my last hurrah before getting married and it's supposed to be fun. Just because I'm not turned on by a nearly-naked strange woman gyrating in front of me doesn't mean I'm suddenly needing to be…you know, by my brother. God, you can be such a jerk. Maybe I'll go up to the hotel room. You can take your jokes and find a…"
Don gripped his beer bottle and said, "Wasn't joking."
Charlie made a choking sound. "What?"
Don said clearly, "I wasn't joking. I meant it. If I could do anything in the world, that's what I'd be doing."
"What?"
"Not that I ever would," Don said, keeping his eyes on the beer bottle. "I wouldn't do that to you. It wouldn't be fair."
"What are you trying to tell me?" Charlie gasped. "Are you gay?"
Don couldn't exactly explain his perverted obsession, so he said, "Queer."
"Isn't that just another way of saying 'gay?'"
"No, it's an…umbrella term. Covers a lot of ground."
"What kind of ground?" Charlie demanded. "I can't believe you're telling me this."
"You don't want me to tell you?"
"Yes, I mean, No, I mean… What the hell?"
Don had to smile. "'What the hell' just about covers it."
"This is some sort of joke. Some sort of bachelor party joke."
"Nope."
"What about Robin?" Charlie asked.
"What about her?" Don replied.
"If you're…"
"Queer."
"Then…"
"I love Robin," Don said. And it was true. He did love Robin. He enjoyed being around her, being her boyfriend, even planning a future together. He was even mostly faithful to her when they were dating. But she didn't turn him on. That wasn't any deficiency on her part. The failing was all Don's. "She knows, of course." Though that was a lie. He'd told her he was bisexual. He hadn't - and had no intention of - telling her that he was only sexually aroused by his brother. He'd hidden his obsession thoroughly. Though he'd wondered, during one of their many breakups, if she suspected something was wrong with him. She had good instincts.
"But… you said you were queer." Charlie said. "And that it 'covers a lot of ground'? What kind of ground? You're…bisexual, pansexual, polysexual…? I don't even know the terms."
"Terms change." Don didn't want to explain that it wasn't really a lot of ground. It was a very small ground. More like a pedestal. For one person.
"Why are you even telling me this? Are you drunk? No, you're not drunk. I wish I was drunk."
"Have another beer."
"I don't want to have another beer. I want to understand what you're saying."
Don finally glanced over at his brother. Charlie's face was flushed, his eyes big and alarmed. Don wanted to lean over and kiss him. It was a common urge and he brushed it away with practiced ease.
Don gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Nothing to worry about. How about I tell you a story instead?"
"A…story?" Charlie said faintly. "About…how you're…queer?"
"Naw," Don said. "A fantasy. A non-real fantasy. Sometimes I like to make up fantasies. Would you like to hear one?"
Don's heart pounded as he waited for Charlie to form a response. This was his second way of dealing with his perversion, beyond just searching out lovers that reminded him of Charlie. Some years ago, in the depth of his longing, he'd stumbled across a website for written sexual confessions. There were the usual desires about the person at the gym or a boss or a friend's wife. There were also creepier ones about minors or what are called 'family' desires. An entire section was devoted to men who fantasized about sex with their brothers. At first, Don just read the stories and felt less alone. Soon, he got the urge to share one of his own fantasies. He masked his digital and personal identity with every trick he knew, then wrote and posted a simple fantasy about touching his brother, kissing him, and having his brother kiss him back. It was such a rush to put it out there in the world like that, out of his head. And people liked it. They commented and encouraged him. So, he wrote another, one more explicit, of his brother catching him masturbating and offering to suck his cock. More comments and encouragement. Suddenly he was writing more and more. Some were funny, some raunchy, some romantic. There were even some very dark ones. Stories he wrote when he was desperate for Charlie, so desperate that he fantasized about taking his brother while Charlie was drunk or asleep or just tied up and screaming. No one Don knew could ever find out about those.
"What kind of story?" Charlie said at last. "A…sexy one?"
"Sure, if you'd like. Kinda like how people tell ghost stories at campouts. Sexy stories at strip clubs."
"That doesn't really make sense."
Don shrugged. "You want one or not?"
"About…?"
Don took the last drink of his beer and said quietly, "About what I would do under the table."
"You w-would me jj-uss…uh…"
"Just a not-real fantasy." Don put on a teasing smile. "Just a challenge. See if I can get you turned on more than this dancer."
"…okay," Charlie said at last.
"Great!" Don said, his heartrate increasing. "First, I need a better drink. You want something?"
Without waiting for his answer, Don pressed the button to summon the server. When they'd come into the club and were being seated, the hostess had made it clear that the server would not come without them pressing the button. Probably so the server wouldn't have to deal with interrupting customers masturbating.
Don picked up the large menu that was on their table and looked through the drinks and appetizers.
Their waitress showed up shortly.
"I'd like a hard lemonade," Don said. "Charlie, you want something?"
"Uh…"
"He'll have a mint soda."
She nodded and took away Don's empty beer bottle. While they waited for her to return, they sat in silence. A new dancer was up and wearing, for some reason, a hard hat and a toolbelt. Don was mentally reviewing some of the stories he'd written and whether he could remember some of his wording for this. He was about to present a story to the most important audience possible, and he was trying not to panic. This 'non-real fantasy' might be the only way that he'd get to let Charlie know, however obliquely, how he felt about him.
The waitress returned with two drinks. Don thanked her and they both took a sip of their drinks. Don nodded in approval at the nice combination of vanilla-infused vodka, sugar and iced lemon juice. Thinking about his drink helped settle him. Charlie swallowed some of his mint soda with a faint grimace.
"So a story…" Don said, putting down his drink. "You ready?"
"…I think."
"Okay." Don took a breath and let it out.
Then he began.
Fandom: NUMB3RS
Pairing/Characters: Charlie Eppes/Don Eppes
Rating: FRAO, NC-17
Summary: Don has an unusual way to deal with his obsession with Charlie, and at Charlie's bachelor party, Don gambles on sharing it with his favorite protagonist.
Part 1 of 4 - Dance
Don and Charlie are the only ones not enjoying Charlie's bachelor's party.
Warning: Sibling incest
Note: This was written for Rounds of Kink for the prompt: "Charlie's bachelor party is his very last chance to let Charlie know how he feels, Charlie/any, Bachelor parties-strippers-public/semi-public sex,"
Word Count: 3564
Part 1: Dance
Don watched the exotic dancer in front of him twirl around her pole and wished that she did anything for him. It wasn't her fault - she seemed skilled, had a well-toned body, and even managed to look like she was having fun. Her hot-pink rhinestone getup was simultaneously sexy and playful. Any normal person who was interested in women would find her act arousing.
Don didn't.
It wouldn't have made any difference if it had been a skilled, well-toned man either. Don had tested this theory in many ways. He'd been with dozens upon dozens of men and women over the years, in every scenario that he or they had been able to come up with. Nothing had touched him.
Not until…
Don looked out over the club. It was a high-end Vegas club, appropriate for the meaningful weekend. Farther up the big room, nearer to front, Colby and David were getting a closer look at the dancers. In fact, it looked like Colby was now getting a lap-dance from one of the dancers. David was laughing and from what Don could see of Colby's face, it was beet red. Don was glad they were having fun. The rest of their party was elsewhere in the casino, probably at the blackjack tables.
There was only one person with Don.
But it was the only person that mattered.
"I'm surprised Larry hasn't been kicked out yet," Charlie said beside him. "He must have gotten better at hiding the fact he's counting cards. I should never have let the entire math department take him into the casino."
Don put a smile on his face. "Well, not the entire math department. Your female colleagues and more importantly your boss isn't here."
"Good thing," Charlie shuddered. "I guess there's an advantage to bachelor parties being traditionally men only." He paused then added, "Though I think Megan would have kept Larry under control."
"True."
"I'm worried that Matt and Kevin are helping Larry, too. I should have known the combination of math geeks and FBI geeks was going to be dangerous."
"Well," Don said. "If they get kicked out, they can come watch the show here."
"Naw, they'll just move on to another casino. I know Larry."
Though Don was relieved that Larry and his fellow cheaters wouldn't be joining them here, he made a sympathetic sound.
They lapsed into silence.
Charlie must have turned back to watch the dancer. Don kept himself from looking over to check. Charlie was only a few feet away along the bench seat at the table where they sat. Don usually tried not to let himself get this close but moving away would be too obvious.
Don took a swig of his beer and focused his eyes on something near the dancer, so that Charlie would think he was watching.
Today, this weekend, was the end of everything anyway. A small part of Don was relieved. Most of him was screaming at himself to do something.
Don hadn't known that he was defective for a long time. Growing up, he'd heard the other boys talk about getting turned on, but had thought they'd meant a purely physiological reaction. He enjoyed masturbating like anyone, and a mouth on his cock felt even better. He'd evaluated girls on their physical merits along with other boys, and even evaluated boys with a few boys. But it wasn't until he went to college and started developing understanding and language that he realized there was an actual feeling that people had about other people they wanted to have sex with. It was like discovering he was missing a sense, and no one had told him. He didn't want people, not in that way. There was always a disconnect, a glass wall between him and anyone else. He was good at empathy, and he was able to get around the wall a little bit that way, in the sense that he could tell when someone wanted him and how that made them feel. But that was as close as he ever got. He tried, oh how he tried, to break through that wall. He had sex with many people, in many ways, and went down some pretty deep rabbit holes in the search of that elusive connection.
Nothing.
He remembered finally getting a name for it, from Billy Cooper. During his stint in Fugitive Retrieval, Coop was his friend and lover. When Don had finally confessed to Coop that he felt nothing for him, Coop had smiled and said he wasn't looking for true love either. Don had felt the need to explain his problem in greater detail. Coop had listened, then laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, and said that all the best agents were sociopaths.
Sociopath. That made sense. Don was relieved to have a label for it, because it meant that others had felt this lack before. He'd enjoyed his time as Coop's lover more than he had anyone else.
Then it happened.
Shock.
A moment of pure concussive force.
In one moment, the wall shattered… for the worst possible reason.
Don had been home from Fugitive Retrieval, on one of his rare visits. He had been able to tell there was something wrong with his mother, but no diagnosis had been made yet. She had seemed happy, though, because both of her sons would be home for the first time in years. Charlie had been living in London with a woman, but he had finished his degree there and was coming back to LA to become a professor at CalSci.
Don could remember the moment perfectly. He had been sitting in the sunroom, drinking lemonade, and Charlie had rushed in to say hello.
And all the arousal, all the desire that Don had missed over the years had suddenly burst open inside him. He'd had an immediate erection, but also his skin felt on fire, his mouth dry, tingling in every extremity, his heart thudding, his body aching. It was like every description that Don had ever heard of desire exploding in him in an instant. If Don hadn't been so overwhelmed, he would have grabbed Charlie right then and kissed him and more. Fortunately, he'd only made a garbled sound, and Charlie had looked hurt and left.
Don didn't know what had made that moment different. Maybe it was the sexual confidence Charlie now had, after having a long-time lover. Charlie had grown up when Don wasn't looking. Maybe it was Charlie's smile, his enthusiasm, his… Don had no idea. But in that instant, Don had learned that he wasn't a sociopath.
He was just a pervert.
After Charlie had left, Don had managed to gather himself together enough to get unseen to the bathroom. There he'd jerked off, shaking the whole time. He'd dunked his head in a sink of water until he'd finally cooled down. He'd gone downstairs and apologized to Charlie and his parents and said that he was going to have to go to bed early, since it felt like he was getting sick. But a night away from Charlie didn't change a thing. When he had seen Charlie again the next morning, he'd wanted him just as much.
Don hadn't been able to deal with it. Other people had years as teenagers to learn to deal with sexual desire, he'd gotten all of it at once - and it was directed at his little brother.
He'd left the visit early, much to his mother's disappointment, and fled back to the coolness of Coop's company. He didn't tell Coop, of course. Or any of his lovers after that day. But the desperate desire didn't fade with time or distance. After his mother became seriously ill, he'd had to learn to live around Charlie. He worked every day to make sure Charlie had no idea how he felt about him. Don did get some relief from the pressure of his desire by finding lovers that reminded him, in any tangential way, of Charlie. He never wanted them as much as Charlie, but it was something. He also found another more unusual way of dealing with it. Soon, those weak reliefs would be all he had left.
"Do you think she's good?" Charlie asked.
"Hmm?" Don said, blinking from his reverie.
"The stripper."
"Exotic dancer," Don corrected automatically.
"Oh. Is she good?"
Don focused on the dancer and discovered that a new dancer had started her routine. Her outfit was red and black striped and she seemed similarly skilled as the previous one.
"Sure, she's great," Don said. "You like the first one better?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Don saw Charlie shrug. "Not… maybe I'm just not the…target market here. I like women who, you know, have a mathematical mind."
Don had to smile. "Maybe she does. Maybe she's moonlighting while working on her graduate degree."
"It's possible," Charlie said. "Yeah, I shouldn't judge."
"No, you shouldn't."
They watched the dancer for a moment.
"Do you want to order another drink?" Don asked.
"Naw. You know me, a lightweight."
"I think you're supposed to get drunk at your bachelor party."
"I guess so. I could try." Charlie leaned his chin on his fists, bringing him more into Don's view. "If you listen to the movies, I'm supposed to be up there with the stri-dancer, drunk and crazy and bemoaning the loss of my freewheeling bachelor days."
"You want to get up there?"
"No."
"You don't like dancing?"
"Not in public."
"You're going to have to dance at your wedding."
"Yeah," Charlie grumbled. "I'm hoping I can get out of it."
"The wedding?"
"No!" Charlie snapped. "The dancing at the wedding, zhesh."
"I know, just kidding."
"You aren't happy I'm getting married?"
"Of course, I am!" Don lied. "Amita's great!" He decided to allow himself a bit of truth. "I'm just not thrilled about you moving to England, is all."
"I can still help you with cases sometimes."
"I know, that's not what… Never mind." Don began to pick at the label on his beer bottle.
"What?"
"I just like having you around," Don said with a shrug. Even though it was torture to be so close to Charlie but not be able to touch him, it was better than being away from him. Don had tried both options.
"Thanks," Charlie said, a smile in his voice. "I'm going to miss everybody here too."
Don couldn't help himself, he said, "You grouping me with everybody else? Your favorite brother?"
"Also, technically my least-favorite brother as well."
"Gee, thanks."
"I'm going to miss you, too." Charlie patted Don's shoulder awkwardly and Don managed not to lean into his touch.
The dancer in front of them finished her act. They waited while the next dancer's name was called. Diamond or something.
"They're having fun," Charlie said. He was pointing towards where David and Colby were. Don saw that the lap dance was over but David and Colby were now surrounded by a group of laughing women, all wearing pink 'Bride Tribe' t-shirts.
"Bachelor party meets Bachelorette party," Don said. "Seems like a porn movie plot. You want to… go over there?"
Charlie quickly shook his head, 'No.'
"I wonder which one is the bride?"
Charlie pointed to one with a plastic tiara. She was draped over David.
"Ah. Think that's what Amita's bachelorette party in Reno is like?"
"I hope not!"
"Yeah…"
They lapsed into silence. The new dancer on stage was wearing a tux bikini and top hat.
Don asked, "Wish you were in Reno with Amita?"
"Naw."
"But you wish you weren't here."
Charlie paused a moment before replying. "I know this is what a bachelor party is supposed to be like, but everyone is having fun but me."
"And me."
"You could go over and hang out with the 'Bride Tribe.'"
Don shrugged.
"Right, you never have trouble getting girls."
Don shrugged again. It was true, if incomplete. To change the subject, Don said, "If you could be anywhere in the world, where would you be?"
"At home, in the garage, working," Charlie said instantly.
"Gonna miss that place, huh?"
"I… I'm sure I'll find some place in England."
Don picked more at his beer bottle label. He was already missing Charlie, already feeling like he was an ocean away, and the wedding hadn't even happened yet.
"What about you?" Charlie asked.
"What about me?"
"Yeah, if you could be anywhere in the world, where would you be?"
Without thinking, Don said, "Under this table."
"What?" Charlie laughed. "The dancing isn't that bad."
Instead of answering, Don looked around. They were in an alcove with just two tables and the other table was unoccupied. The seating was a curved bench around the edge of the alcove. It was a high-end club so the tables were covered by real cloth tablecloths. The cloth hung down to the floor which both looked nice and also had the effect of covering up anyone jerking off while watching the dancers. That probably happened a lot, and he'd bet the servers changed the tablecloths with each new customer. He felt sorry for the servers having to deal with cum-covered tablecloths, but it was probably better than the cleanup at a low-end strip club.
"You could go up to the hotel room if you're bored," Charlie grumbled. "Or go find some sports to gamble on."
"I'm okay here," Don said. He wasn't about to waste his last moments with Charlie. Not that he was making good use of them, though. He stared morosely at the dancer. This one wasn't as good, but she had a cute smile. Her eyes seemed to meet his and she winked. He forced a smile onto his face. There was no reason the dancer should think she was failing at her job. She couldn't be expected to charm a pervert.
"But you'd rather be under the table?" Charlie pressed. "Why?"
Don had to say something tonight, or he'd regret it for the years to come. He kept his eyes on the dancer. "So I can suck your cock."
Out of the corner of his eye, Don saw Charlie's head whip around and he felt the weight of Charlie's stare.
"Dammit," Charlie snapped. "Couldn't you go a whole evening without being a jerk? We're supposed to be having a great time here. It's my last hurrah before getting married and it's supposed to be fun. Just because I'm not turned on by a nearly-naked strange woman gyrating in front of me doesn't mean I'm suddenly needing to be…you know, by my brother. God, you can be such a jerk. Maybe I'll go up to the hotel room. You can take your jokes and find a…"
Don gripped his beer bottle and said, "Wasn't joking."
Charlie made a choking sound. "What?"
Don said clearly, "I wasn't joking. I meant it. If I could do anything in the world, that's what I'd be doing."
"What?"
"Not that I ever would," Don said, keeping his eyes on the beer bottle. "I wouldn't do that to you. It wouldn't be fair."
"What are you trying to tell me?" Charlie gasped. "Are you gay?"
Don couldn't exactly explain his perverted obsession, so he said, "Queer."
"Isn't that just another way of saying 'gay?'"
"No, it's an…umbrella term. Covers a lot of ground."
"What kind of ground?" Charlie demanded. "I can't believe you're telling me this."
"You don't want me to tell you?"
"Yes, I mean, No, I mean… What the hell?"
Don had to smile. "'What the hell' just about covers it."
"This is some sort of joke. Some sort of bachelor party joke."
"Nope."
"What about Robin?" Charlie asked.
"What about her?" Don replied.
"If you're…"
"Queer."
"Then…"
"I love Robin," Don said. And it was true. He did love Robin. He enjoyed being around her, being her boyfriend, even planning a future together. He was even mostly faithful to her when they were dating. But she didn't turn him on. That wasn't any deficiency on her part. The failing was all Don's. "She knows, of course." Though that was a lie. He'd told her he was bisexual. He hadn't - and had no intention of - telling her that he was only sexually aroused by his brother. He'd hidden his obsession thoroughly. Though he'd wondered, during one of their many breakups, if she suspected something was wrong with him. She had good instincts.
"But… you said you were queer." Charlie said. "And that it 'covers a lot of ground'? What kind of ground? You're…bisexual, pansexual, polysexual…? I don't even know the terms."
"Terms change." Don didn't want to explain that it wasn't really a lot of ground. It was a very small ground. More like a pedestal. For one person.
"Why are you even telling me this? Are you drunk? No, you're not drunk. I wish I was drunk."
"Have another beer."
"I don't want to have another beer. I want to understand what you're saying."
Don finally glanced over at his brother. Charlie's face was flushed, his eyes big and alarmed. Don wanted to lean over and kiss him. It was a common urge and he brushed it away with practiced ease.
Don gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Nothing to worry about. How about I tell you a story instead?"
"A…story?" Charlie said faintly. "About…how you're…queer?"
"Naw," Don said. "A fantasy. A non-real fantasy. Sometimes I like to make up fantasies. Would you like to hear one?"
Don's heart pounded as he waited for Charlie to form a response. This was his second way of dealing with his perversion, beyond just searching out lovers that reminded him of Charlie. Some years ago, in the depth of his longing, he'd stumbled across a website for written sexual confessions. There were the usual desires about the person at the gym or a boss or a friend's wife. There were also creepier ones about minors or what are called 'family' desires. An entire section was devoted to men who fantasized about sex with their brothers. At first, Don just read the stories and felt less alone. Soon, he got the urge to share one of his own fantasies. He masked his digital and personal identity with every trick he knew, then wrote and posted a simple fantasy about touching his brother, kissing him, and having his brother kiss him back. It was such a rush to put it out there in the world like that, out of his head. And people liked it. They commented and encouraged him. So, he wrote another, one more explicit, of his brother catching him masturbating and offering to suck his cock. More comments and encouragement. Suddenly he was writing more and more. Some were funny, some raunchy, some romantic. There were even some very dark ones. Stories he wrote when he was desperate for Charlie, so desperate that he fantasized about taking his brother while Charlie was drunk or asleep or just tied up and screaming. No one Don knew could ever find out about those.
"What kind of story?" Charlie said at last. "A…sexy one?"
"Sure, if you'd like. Kinda like how people tell ghost stories at campouts. Sexy stories at strip clubs."
"That doesn't really make sense."
Don shrugged. "You want one or not?"
"About…?"
Don took the last drink of his beer and said quietly, "About what I would do under the table."
"You w-would me jj-uss…uh…"
"Just a not-real fantasy." Don put on a teasing smile. "Just a challenge. See if I can get you turned on more than this dancer."
"…okay," Charlie said at last.
"Great!" Don said, his heartrate increasing. "First, I need a better drink. You want something?"
Without waiting for his answer, Don pressed the button to summon the server. When they'd come into the club and were being seated, the hostess had made it clear that the server would not come without them pressing the button. Probably so the server wouldn't have to deal with interrupting customers masturbating.
Don picked up the large menu that was on their table and looked through the drinks and appetizers.
Their waitress showed up shortly.
"I'd like a hard lemonade," Don said. "Charlie, you want something?"
"Uh…"
"He'll have a mint soda."
She nodded and took away Don's empty beer bottle. While they waited for her to return, they sat in silence. A new dancer was up and wearing, for some reason, a hard hat and a toolbelt. Don was mentally reviewing some of the stories he'd written and whether he could remember some of his wording for this. He was about to present a story to the most important audience possible, and he was trying not to panic. This 'non-real fantasy' might be the only way that he'd get to let Charlie know, however obliquely, how he felt about him.
The waitress returned with two drinks. Don thanked her and they both took a sip of their drinks. Don nodded in approval at the nice combination of vanilla-infused vodka, sugar and iced lemon juice. Thinking about his drink helped settle him. Charlie swallowed some of his mint soda with a faint grimace.
"So a story…" Don said, putting down his drink. "You ready?"
"…I think."
"Okay." Don took a breath and let it out.
Then he began.