Snapshot: You're Killing Me Here: Don, Charlie/David
Title: You're Killing Me Here
Fandom: Numb3rs
Characters: Don, Charlie/David
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest implied
Word Count: 359
Challenge: #27 Knife for 50episodes
Disclaimer: Not mine, only borrowing, just fun, no infringement intended
A/N: TABLE
Don feels the knife in his gut.
The blood drains from his face, and he’s losing feeling.
He falls against a wall, legs giving out.
He can’t breathe.
His hands clutch at his heart, and it doesn’t seem to want to beat like it should.
It’s beating too fast.
Don feels himself dying.
The knife twists.
David peels himself off Charlie’s naked body, pulls himself out of Charlie’s naked body, and they’re scrambling for covers, clutching sheets around their waists.
“Charlie, how could you?”
Don doesn’t think that David doesn’t know about the two of them and probably takes Don’s shock as a reaction to Charlie fucking his partner, a person of another ethnicity, a man.
“Charlie, how could you?”
“Don, it’s not what you…” Charlie stops himself; Don knows Charlie’s smart enough to shut up because it is exactly what he thinks - Charlie’s fucking someone else. Someone else touched Don’s property, and he was never one kind to others putting their hands on what belonged to him.
“Fuck you, Charlie.” Don’s eyes move to David. “Get the fuck out. I don’t want to see you again until I have to, you hear?”
David’s dark chocolate eyes are wide, and he soberly nods his head, reaching for his clothes. Don looks away, no interest whatsoever in seeing David naked, no desire to size up his competition and see if the stereotype about Black men were true. He hopes to God that it’s not, that David’s got nothing extra on him because a giant cock would be just the thing to sway Charlie, little slut that he was.
Don mentally shakes his head; Charlie isn’t a slut, and Don’s just thinking out of anger. But he has every damn right to be pissed.
David doesn’t bother to tuck in his dress shirt, hasn’t even done all the buttons, before he quickly exits Charlie’s bedroom, and Don listens to David’s quick retreat down the stairs and out the front door. With all his strength, he brings his eyes up to Charlie’s.
“How could you do this to me?”
Charlie’s voice is soft. “I just wanted something normal.”
The knife drives deeper.
Fandom: Numb3rs
Characters: Don, Charlie/David
Rating: R
Warnings: Incest implied
Word Count: 359
Challenge: #27 Knife for 50episodes
Disclaimer: Not mine, only borrowing, just fun, no infringement intended
A/N: TABLE
Don feels the knife in his gut.
The blood drains from his face, and he’s losing feeling.
He falls against a wall, legs giving out.
He can’t breathe.
His hands clutch at his heart, and it doesn’t seem to want to beat like it should.
It’s beating too fast.
Don feels himself dying.
The knife twists.
David peels himself off Charlie’s naked body, pulls himself out of Charlie’s naked body, and they’re scrambling for covers, clutching sheets around their waists.
“Charlie, how could you?”
Don doesn’t think that David doesn’t know about the two of them and probably takes Don’s shock as a reaction to Charlie fucking his partner, a person of another ethnicity, a man.
“Charlie, how could you?”
“Don, it’s not what you…” Charlie stops himself; Don knows Charlie’s smart enough to shut up because it is exactly what he thinks - Charlie’s fucking someone else. Someone else touched Don’s property, and he was never one kind to others putting their hands on what belonged to him.
“Fuck you, Charlie.” Don’s eyes move to David. “Get the fuck out. I don’t want to see you again until I have to, you hear?”
David’s dark chocolate eyes are wide, and he soberly nods his head, reaching for his clothes. Don looks away, no interest whatsoever in seeing David naked, no desire to size up his competition and see if the stereotype about Black men were true. He hopes to God that it’s not, that David’s got nothing extra on him because a giant cock would be just the thing to sway Charlie, little slut that he was.
Don mentally shakes his head; Charlie isn’t a slut, and Don’s just thinking out of anger. But he has every damn right to be pissed.
David doesn’t bother to tuck in his dress shirt, hasn’t even done all the buttons, before he quickly exits Charlie’s bedroom, and Don listens to David’s quick retreat down the stairs and out the front door. With all his strength, he brings his eyes up to Charlie’s.
“How could you do this to me?”
Charlie’s voice is soft. “I just wanted something normal.”
The knife drives deeper.