Numb3rs Fic: Devolution
Posted to numb3rs_slash
Crossposted to eppescest
Title: Devolution
Series/Universe: Devolution
Pairing/Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Pilot, UP, Identity Crisis, Sacrifice
Summary: 1988 - Don was 18 when Charlie made his first attempt
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
There are moments in a life that cannot be forgotten: wedding vows, the birth of a child, the death of a loved one...
Don Eppes had such a moment six days after his 18th birthday.
Returning home from the batting cages he threw his bat on his bed and spotted a note taped to his mirror.
'Donnie,
I love you.
I'm sorry.'
He didn't understand; he just knew.
He raced across the hall and threw open the door to Charlie's bedroom.
His brother lay still, sprawled on the floor amidst a scattering of empty prescription bottles.
He scooped his limp form up and held him, screamed at him, begged, but he couldn't make Charlie wake up again.
Don never forgot his brother dying in his arms.
+
Don had sex, Charlie knew this for a fact.
He was a quintessential jock, attractive and popular, so of course he expected his girlfriends to put out. He had plenty of girlfriends throughout high school, but between them Charlie would watch the girls jockey into position for dates, all hoping to be chosen as the next one to be on Don's arm.
He settled down with Marisa a few weeks into the second semester of their senior year. She was pretty with caramel skin, big brown eyes and long hair that went down to her behind. Or so Don rhapsodized.
Charlie only had eyes for Don.
Don had filled out early, as befitting an athlete, and the brush of chest hair that had expanded across his pecs and down the line to his navel only made him look older, more mature. Vain, he made a point of taking his shirt off as often as possible - always a show off. He'd claim skins for basketball every time and offer to wash their parents' car on hot days when the neighborhood girls were sure to be around.
Sometimes Charlie wondered if the devil was real and Don had been put on earth to torment him. It seemed like a good theory at the time. Nothing else could explain the fascination he had with his own brother or the lack of interest in girls or anyone really his own age.
In truth, the only thing good at chipping away at his worship of Don was Don himself. 'Out of my way, runt,' he'd say, brushing past Charlie on his way to yet another fun and exciting social event Charlie wasn't welcome at. 'Keep your hands off my stuff.' 'Don't be such a retard.' As cruel as Don was to him in the brief seconds he'd acknowledge his presence it wasn't enough to counteract the hours of adoring him from afar.
Baseball games were the hardest - Don in his uniform with tight fitting pants. Perversely Charlie hoped Don would strike out. Having to watch him stand around the bases would just make things worse. Watching Don in public inevitably meant an uncomfortable and embarrassing erection he'd have to hide with notebooks of statistics.
Charlie sometimes wondered what the statistics were for incest.
As much as he hated Marisa - was jealous of her to be honest - she was useful in one way. He got to listen to Don having sex. He'd creep out into the hallway whenever their parents were gone and Marisa had snuck over without permission. The breathy pants and mumbled curse words were an aphrodisiac and Charlie used them to get off time and time again.
But it wasn't enough.
The plan was simple, but ambitious. Don always had piles of laundry that nearly overflowed his hamper. Hiding the camcorder in it wouldn't be a problem. If Don found it though? He'd be dead. His parents wouldn't even forgive him for that. But if he got the footage? That would be a piece of Don he could keep, to have all to himself for once. Of course the plan required Marisa, but to Charlie she was a mere prop.
The hour and a half wait for their sneaky liaison to end was excruciating, but Charlie was sure it would be worth it. He waited until Don saw Marisa out to the driveway for a final kiss before sneaking into Don's room and retrieving the still recording camcorder.
He locked the door to his room and put a chair up against the knob like in the movies just in case. He had to turn the sound down - he'd wait until the house was empty before indulging in audio - but when he rewound the tape and fast-forwarded to the good parts, he wasn't disappointed.
Once Don had stripped Marisa, he'd stood up to take his jeans off. Standing before her, in full frontal view of the camera, he put one knee on the bed and all but presented her with his cock to suck. Charlie was hopelessly hard, hand on his own dick, at the sight of her mouth sucking down Don's cock.
The taut line of Don's hard body as he came was beautiful, his head thrown back, cupid lips caught in a perfect O.
That tape was about the only thing that got Charlie through his miserable senior year.
And then Don found out.
He'd been sloppy, fallen asleep - lazy and sated after yet another round of masturbation - before taking the tape out of the camcorder like normal. Don, never mindful of Charlie's possessions yet always expecting Charlie to treat his room as sacrosanct, had just gone in and taken the camcorder and found the tape by accident.
"You're a sick fuck, you know that? What, are you getting off on watching people fuck? Getting off on watching your brother naked? Pervert! I am so showing this to Mom and Dad when they get home. You'll be busted for the rest of your natural life and then some. Hell, they might even send you to juvie or to an institution! A freak like you would fit right in..."
Charlie wished throughout the whole hateful speech Don would just punch him and get it over with. He got his wish - eventually - doubling over in pain as Don buried his fist in Charlie's tender gut. And then Javier had driven up to take Don to the batting cages and he'd grabbed his bat and stormed out.
The house was quiet after that. His parents wouldn't be home from work for hours. Don certainly wasn't going to be back soon. Plenty of time to get his courage up, to make this final decision. More than enough time to go through his parents' medicine cabinet. He knew where they kept the good drugs. It's not like he hadn't though about it before.
+
There are moments where time seems to slow down, a torture where pain hurts longer, agony seems unending. There are also times when it speeds up and there's no way to keep up, to hold back the second hand for more precious time.
Sitting on the floor with his brother lifeless in his arms Don's every heartbeat had an epoch between it. Staring down at Charlie's pale still face he felt like he was dying too, stabs of guilt and remorse every bit as painful as a real knife would have been.
And then he was up, out, carrying Charlie to his car - barely remembering to grab the bottles to stuff in his pockets for the doctors.
Charlie was slung half across him in the car, getting in the way of the steering wheel, but it was only a mile to Huntington Memorial Hospital and if there was any hope it was in the emergency room with the doctors.
Don berated himself, using every swear word he had learned in his 18 years on the planet and then some, even after they came out and said they'd revived Charlie just in time.
Still, it was thirty-three hours before Charlie regained consciousness - anxious hours where Don never spoke, never smiled, and refused to answer his parents' questions when they asked him why why their baby boy would do this.
They were all there when Charlie finally woke up. He opened his eyes, saw Don and then closed them again.
To Don that was condemnation of the worst kind.
But he deserved it.
=
Crossposted to eppescest
Title: Devolution
Series/Universe: Devolution
Pairing/Characters: Don/Charlie
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Pilot, UP, Identity Crisis, Sacrifice
Summary: 1988 - Don was 18 when Charlie made his first attempt
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
There are moments in a life that cannot be forgotten: wedding vows, the birth of a child, the death of a loved one...
Don Eppes had such a moment six days after his 18th birthday.
Returning home from the batting cages he threw his bat on his bed and spotted a note taped to his mirror.
'Donnie,
I love you.
I'm sorry.'
He didn't understand; he just knew.
He raced across the hall and threw open the door to Charlie's bedroom.
His brother lay still, sprawled on the floor amidst a scattering of empty prescription bottles.
He scooped his limp form up and held him, screamed at him, begged, but he couldn't make Charlie wake up again.
Don never forgot his brother dying in his arms.
+
Don had sex, Charlie knew this for a fact.
He was a quintessential jock, attractive and popular, so of course he expected his girlfriends to put out. He had plenty of girlfriends throughout high school, but between them Charlie would watch the girls jockey into position for dates, all hoping to be chosen as the next one to be on Don's arm.
He settled down with Marisa a few weeks into the second semester of their senior year. She was pretty with caramel skin, big brown eyes and long hair that went down to her behind. Or so Don rhapsodized.
Charlie only had eyes for Don.
Don had filled out early, as befitting an athlete, and the brush of chest hair that had expanded across his pecs and down the line to his navel only made him look older, more mature. Vain, he made a point of taking his shirt off as often as possible - always a show off. He'd claim skins for basketball every time and offer to wash their parents' car on hot days when the neighborhood girls were sure to be around.
Sometimes Charlie wondered if the devil was real and Don had been put on earth to torment him. It seemed like a good theory at the time. Nothing else could explain the fascination he had with his own brother or the lack of interest in girls or anyone really his own age.
In truth, the only thing good at chipping away at his worship of Don was Don himself. 'Out of my way, runt,' he'd say, brushing past Charlie on his way to yet another fun and exciting social event Charlie wasn't welcome at. 'Keep your hands off my stuff.' 'Don't be such a retard.' As cruel as Don was to him in the brief seconds he'd acknowledge his presence it wasn't enough to counteract the hours of adoring him from afar.
Baseball games were the hardest - Don in his uniform with tight fitting pants. Perversely Charlie hoped Don would strike out. Having to watch him stand around the bases would just make things worse. Watching Don in public inevitably meant an uncomfortable and embarrassing erection he'd have to hide with notebooks of statistics.
Charlie sometimes wondered what the statistics were for incest.
As much as he hated Marisa - was jealous of her to be honest - she was useful in one way. He got to listen to Don having sex. He'd creep out into the hallway whenever their parents were gone and Marisa had snuck over without permission. The breathy pants and mumbled curse words were an aphrodisiac and Charlie used them to get off time and time again.
But it wasn't enough.
The plan was simple, but ambitious. Don always had piles of laundry that nearly overflowed his hamper. Hiding the camcorder in it wouldn't be a problem. If Don found it though? He'd be dead. His parents wouldn't even forgive him for that. But if he got the footage? That would be a piece of Don he could keep, to have all to himself for once. Of course the plan required Marisa, but to Charlie she was a mere prop.
The hour and a half wait for their sneaky liaison to end was excruciating, but Charlie was sure it would be worth it. He waited until Don saw Marisa out to the driveway for a final kiss before sneaking into Don's room and retrieving the still recording camcorder.
He locked the door to his room and put a chair up against the knob like in the movies just in case. He had to turn the sound down - he'd wait until the house was empty before indulging in audio - but when he rewound the tape and fast-forwarded to the good parts, he wasn't disappointed.
Once Don had stripped Marisa, he'd stood up to take his jeans off. Standing before her, in full frontal view of the camera, he put one knee on the bed and all but presented her with his cock to suck. Charlie was hopelessly hard, hand on his own dick, at the sight of her mouth sucking down Don's cock.
The taut line of Don's hard body as he came was beautiful, his head thrown back, cupid lips caught in a perfect O.
That tape was about the only thing that got Charlie through his miserable senior year.
And then Don found out.
He'd been sloppy, fallen asleep - lazy and sated after yet another round of masturbation - before taking the tape out of the camcorder like normal. Don, never mindful of Charlie's possessions yet always expecting Charlie to treat his room as sacrosanct, had just gone in and taken the camcorder and found the tape by accident.
"You're a sick fuck, you know that? What, are you getting off on watching people fuck? Getting off on watching your brother naked? Pervert! I am so showing this to Mom and Dad when they get home. You'll be busted for the rest of your natural life and then some. Hell, they might even send you to juvie or to an institution! A freak like you would fit right in..."
Charlie wished throughout the whole hateful speech Don would just punch him and get it over with. He got his wish - eventually - doubling over in pain as Don buried his fist in Charlie's tender gut. And then Javier had driven up to take Don to the batting cages and he'd grabbed his bat and stormed out.
The house was quiet after that. His parents wouldn't be home from work for hours. Don certainly wasn't going to be back soon. Plenty of time to get his courage up, to make this final decision. More than enough time to go through his parents' medicine cabinet. He knew where they kept the good drugs. It's not like he hadn't though about it before.
+
There are moments where time seems to slow down, a torture where pain hurts longer, agony seems unending. There are also times when it speeds up and there's no way to keep up, to hold back the second hand for more precious time.
Sitting on the floor with his brother lifeless in his arms Don's every heartbeat had an epoch between it. Staring down at Charlie's pale still face he felt like he was dying too, stabs of guilt and remorse every bit as painful as a real knife would have been.
And then he was up, out, carrying Charlie to his car - barely remembering to grab the bottles to stuff in his pockets for the doctors.
Charlie was slung half across him in the car, getting in the way of the steering wheel, but it was only a mile to Huntington Memorial Hospital and if there was any hope it was in the emergency room with the doctors.
Don berated himself, using every swear word he had learned in his 18 years on the planet and then some, even after they came out and said they'd revived Charlie just in time.
Still, it was thirty-three hours before Charlie regained consciousness - anxious hours where Don never spoke, never smiled, and refused to answer his parents' questions when they asked him why why their baby boy would do this.
They were all there when Charlie finally woke up. He opened his eyes, saw Don and then closed them again.
To Don that was condemnation of the worst kind.
But he deserved it.
=