Fic: Homecoming
Title: Homecoming
Authors: emmademarais and melissima
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairings: Charlie/Amita/Seth Marlowe
Rated: R FRM
Spoilers: Graphic
Summary: Charlie's home is no longer a place.
Author's note: Het/Slash, Written for rubynye's birthday. Warmest wishes for a wonderful year, hon!
As they'd agreed, Alan picks Don and Charlie up from the airport when they get back from their week of presentations at Quantico. The brass is impressed, but Charlie's exhausted by days on display, the intense pressure of Don's bosses watching him. If he'd traveled alone he'd have had Seth pick him up - or Amita and Seth together if she didn't have to teach - but Alan likes to feel useful to his sons, so Seth waits patiently at home.
He does get his father to drop him off at the apartment first, a bid for a private reunion. They're not out enough for Amita and Seth to come live at the Craftsman with Charlie, but those who know them well likely don't buy the 'Seth and Amita are just platonic roommates' line completely.
Seth's hunched over a sketchpad when Charlie lets himself in, but he looks up - his face lighting up behind his trademark spectacles. He's been working in the living room sunlight again; he claims it's the best light in the apartment. He rises, gilded in silhouette, and this time remembers to close the drapes before pulling Charlie into a leisurely welcome home kiss.
It's the kind of welcome Charlie relishes, sinking into Seth's touch as his body relaxes, finally allowing the layers of social vigilance to fall away, content to no longer be traveling. Charlie shaved on the trip - Don poked him to try to look more presentable, snugging up his loosely-knotted tie and admonishing him to tuck his shirt in - so he notices Seth's fine facial hair more than he usually does. It's softer than his and it almost tickles.
His fingers curl in the hem of Seth's t-shirt, knuckles brushing against the sun-warmed skin beneath. It's a moment he wants to hold, fix in his memory, this closeness and peace. But then Seth's pulling away, mother henning him, offering to fix him food and drink as he's dialing the phone to let Amita know Charlie's back.
Charlie lets out a long sigh and sheds his jacket. He's home. And he still has one more greeting to look forward to.
*
Amita cancels the end of her office hours - she swears no one showed up before she left when Charlie chastens her for ducking out for no reason - and gets home an hour and a half later. Charlie's already washed the travel grime away in a long hot shower, changed his clothes and gone barefoot like Seth always does, putting his feet up on the sofa arm to kick back.
After their kiss of greeting, warm and slow and scented by the perfumed curtain of her hair - so similar and yet so different from his and Seth's - she curls up on the couch with him, half on him, half to his side. Seth talks to them from the kitchen as he cooks and Charlie tells them both stories from the trip, delighting in their easy laughter and their teasing banter.
Charlie's not sure what to call what Seth 'whipped up', in his words, but it's delicious. It's a mélange of eggplant, tomatoes, mushrooms and spices on top of brown rice and he half-seriously calls it hippie food, remembering his parents making something like it when he and Don were kids and way too fussy to eat vegetables without cajoling or even bribery.
When the meal is done they take their wine glasses to the living room to lounge, trading lingering caresses as they fill Charlie in on their week, then it's Amita's turn in the kitchen. She assembles a dessert parfait of fresh fruit, greek yogurt, honey and pound cake which they share from the same bowl, three spoons playfully competing for the best chunks of strawberry.
Once they're all lazy and sated, Charlie connects his digital camera to the TV and shows them pictures he took in his rare time off, regales them with tales of Don and he on the town in the nation's capital.
It's a nice evening, one they all know will end early. They missed Charlie and while they aren't the type of lovers to attack him as he walks through the door, they savor the opportunity to show him how much he was missed.
*
Amita's creamy skin feels unbelievably soft beneath Charlie's fingertips and he can't help but drink in every inch of her, starved for touch. By the time he shifts to slip nimble fingers between her legs she's already breathing quicker, her back rising and falling against his chest as he nestles against her, subtly rubbing against her ass.
Seth's breath bathes the back of his neck, his blunt fingernails scraping his scalp as they comb through his hair; that combination never fails to enflame Charlie's passion. Those talented fingers draw not only art, but draw sensations out of him that he never imagined. A fingertip moistened by a tongue moves to rub a nipple. An index finger skims down the crack of his ass, tantalizing. A thumb rubs his hipbone in mesmerizing circles.
Charlie's mind synthesizes their delicious sensual union into a flood of geometric imagery. The angle of Amita's bent waist makes him wonder if they appear as three chevrons, each enveloping the next. He slides inside her warmth and they move in an elliptical pattern. Seth is an arrow piercing, setting the direction, showing the way.
Intimately joined, they are a polygon of poly love: moving as one, breathing in sync, three hearts all beating the same rhythm. Charlie feels consumed by them, surrounded as he is by their bodies, by their love for him. Whispered words float in the air, hover above them to rain down like flower petals in their joyousness.
Seth grips him tight, soft lips and soft words ghosting over his ear.
Amita stiffens, presses back to get even closer as her scent washes over him afresh.
A single breath is held.
And in that moment of transcendent bliss, Charlie is truly home.
Authors: emmademarais and melissima
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairings: Charlie/Amita/Seth Marlowe
Rated: R FRM
Spoilers: Graphic
Summary: Charlie's home is no longer a place.
Author's note: Het/Slash, Written for rubynye's birthday. Warmest wishes for a wonderful year, hon!
As they'd agreed, Alan picks Don and Charlie up from the airport when they get back from their week of presentations at Quantico. The brass is impressed, but Charlie's exhausted by days on display, the intense pressure of Don's bosses watching him. If he'd traveled alone he'd have had Seth pick him up - or Amita and Seth together if she didn't have to teach - but Alan likes to feel useful to his sons, so Seth waits patiently at home.
He does get his father to drop him off at the apartment first, a bid for a private reunion. They're not out enough for Amita and Seth to come live at the Craftsman with Charlie, but those who know them well likely don't buy the 'Seth and Amita are just platonic roommates' line completely.
Seth's hunched over a sketchpad when Charlie lets himself in, but he looks up - his face lighting up behind his trademark spectacles. He's been working in the living room sunlight again; he claims it's the best light in the apartment. He rises, gilded in silhouette, and this time remembers to close the drapes before pulling Charlie into a leisurely welcome home kiss.
It's the kind of welcome Charlie relishes, sinking into Seth's touch as his body relaxes, finally allowing the layers of social vigilance to fall away, content to no longer be traveling. Charlie shaved on the trip - Don poked him to try to look more presentable, snugging up his loosely-knotted tie and admonishing him to tuck his shirt in - so he notices Seth's fine facial hair more than he usually does. It's softer than his and it almost tickles.
His fingers curl in the hem of Seth's t-shirt, knuckles brushing against the sun-warmed skin beneath. It's a moment he wants to hold, fix in his memory, this closeness and peace. But then Seth's pulling away, mother henning him, offering to fix him food and drink as he's dialing the phone to let Amita know Charlie's back.
Charlie lets out a long sigh and sheds his jacket. He's home. And he still has one more greeting to look forward to.
*
Amita cancels the end of her office hours - she swears no one showed up before she left when Charlie chastens her for ducking out for no reason - and gets home an hour and a half later. Charlie's already washed the travel grime away in a long hot shower, changed his clothes and gone barefoot like Seth always does, putting his feet up on the sofa arm to kick back.
After their kiss of greeting, warm and slow and scented by the perfumed curtain of her hair - so similar and yet so different from his and Seth's - she curls up on the couch with him, half on him, half to his side. Seth talks to them from the kitchen as he cooks and Charlie tells them both stories from the trip, delighting in their easy laughter and their teasing banter.
Charlie's not sure what to call what Seth 'whipped up', in his words, but it's delicious. It's a mélange of eggplant, tomatoes, mushrooms and spices on top of brown rice and he half-seriously calls it hippie food, remembering his parents making something like it when he and Don were kids and way too fussy to eat vegetables without cajoling or even bribery.
When the meal is done they take their wine glasses to the living room to lounge, trading lingering caresses as they fill Charlie in on their week, then it's Amita's turn in the kitchen. She assembles a dessert parfait of fresh fruit, greek yogurt, honey and pound cake which they share from the same bowl, three spoons playfully competing for the best chunks of strawberry.
Once they're all lazy and sated, Charlie connects his digital camera to the TV and shows them pictures he took in his rare time off, regales them with tales of Don and he on the town in the nation's capital.
It's a nice evening, one they all know will end early. They missed Charlie and while they aren't the type of lovers to attack him as he walks through the door, they savor the opportunity to show him how much he was missed.
*
Amita's creamy skin feels unbelievably soft beneath Charlie's fingertips and he can't help but drink in every inch of her, starved for touch. By the time he shifts to slip nimble fingers between her legs she's already breathing quicker, her back rising and falling against his chest as he nestles against her, subtly rubbing against her ass.
Seth's breath bathes the back of his neck, his blunt fingernails scraping his scalp as they comb through his hair; that combination never fails to enflame Charlie's passion. Those talented fingers draw not only art, but draw sensations out of him that he never imagined. A fingertip moistened by a tongue moves to rub a nipple. An index finger skims down the crack of his ass, tantalizing. A thumb rubs his hipbone in mesmerizing circles.
Charlie's mind synthesizes their delicious sensual union into a flood of geometric imagery. The angle of Amita's bent waist makes him wonder if they appear as three chevrons, each enveloping the next. He slides inside her warmth and they move in an elliptical pattern. Seth is an arrow piercing, setting the direction, showing the way.
Intimately joined, they are a polygon of poly love: moving as one, breathing in sync, three hearts all beating the same rhythm. Charlie feels consumed by them, surrounded as he is by their bodies, by their love for him. Whispered words float in the air, hover above them to rain down like flower petals in their joyousness.
Seth grips him tight, soft lips and soft words ghosting over his ear.
Amita stiffens, presses back to get even closer as her scent washes over him afresh.
A single breath is held.
And in that moment of transcendent bliss, Charlie is truly home.