Numb3rs fic: Just Another Day (Colby/Charlie, Ian, Millie, Don, PG-13)
I'm posting this now because it was actually due yesterday, and so I want to get it up ASAP. I have to be honest, though, and say that I feel like this fic (and more specifically, this character swap) had a lot more potential than I fulfilled in this version. This was my first week of classes at a new school, so I'll blame that and hope to do better next time. :-)
ALSO, I am taking votes! In the ~sequel~ (which may or may not ever be written), should Alan start dating Ian or Millie?? :-D
Title: Just Another Day
Pairing/Characters: Colby/Charlie, Ian, Millie, Don
Characters switched: Ian and Millie
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He'd heard the stories about Mildred Finch, of her amazing tracking and sniping skills.
Word Count: 1044
Spoilers: 3x09 "Waste Not" and 2x09 "Toxin"
Warnings: none
Notes: Unbetaed. I took extreme liberties with twisting canon for my own nefarious purposes, including combining episodes from two different seasons (heh), so... please forgive me.
Challenge: numb3rsficathon Trading Places (Role Reversal)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. This is only for fun.
It was a terrible morning. Charlie's alarm clock hadn't gone off, he'd skipped breakfast and taken a two-minute shower, and he was relatively certain he'd accidentally grabbed his gym shirt instead of the clean t-shirt he'd been aiming for while getting dressed. His car was in the shop, the bus he'd planned to catch was long gone by the time he'd left the house, and his dad was already out in his own car, attending a meeting.
He rode his bike through the heat, feeling sweat forming along his brow, uncomfortably matting his already damp hair.
He got to campus and discovered he'd forgotten his bike lock. Cursing under his breath, he wheeled the bike through the hallways down to his office, searching his pockets for his keys as he did so.
The door was already open.
There was a stranger waiting in his office: height a few inches above average, build significantly more muscular than average, haircut short enough to be military, eyes piercing and intense behind his wire-rim glasses. He turned to eye Charlie as he walked in, and Charlie felt intimidated, despite it being his own office.
"Well," the man said slowly. His voice was deep but mild. "Aren't we looking... professorial today."
Charlie felt the curls plastered to his head wither just a bit more to achieve a full-blown drowned rat look. He shook it off, standing up straight and raising his eyebrow expectantly.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met. Can I help you with something?"
The stranger grinned, looking oddly pleased with himself. He held out his hand to shake. "I'm Dr. Ian Edgerton. Your new boss."
Colby felt the dust dry in his throat, itchy in his eyes, swept up over the ridge and into his face by the hot summer wind. He stayed down, waiting. Watching.
He'd heard the stories about Mildred Finch, of her amazing tracking and sniping skills, but he'd never had the honor of meeting her in person before. Instead, he'd built up an image in his mind of this badass, Amazonian woman, hair graying slightly perhaps, lines running deeper in her face from a few extra years--extra knowledge and experience and maturity. He'd spun a very pretty picture of the legendary agent.
His radio crackled.
"Colby," Don's voice sounded. "Agent Finch is here. I'm sending Finnegan to relieve you so you can come meet her."
He braced himself, taking a deep breath and telling himself to stay cool, even as he mentally drafted letters of bragging to his old army buddies. Then he left his post.
Agent Mildred Finch was slightly short, slightly overweight, and pretty enough but not sexy. She looked like she could be somebody's grandma. She did not look like a sniper.
"Agent Granger," she greeted him warmly, sticking out her hand. He shook it, trying to recover from the shock of dashed expectations.
"Agent Finch," he said.
"Oh, please," she told him, "call me Millie."
Dr. Edgerton rested his elbows on Charlie's desk and steepled his fingers. Charlie's hands itched for chalk.
"I've been reviewing your work," Edgerton started. "There are... concerns."
Charlie waited. Edgerton leaned forward. "There are concerns," he repeated, "that you have been neglecting your obligations to this university."
Charlie did his best to refrain from scoffing.
"I understand that you may find your consulting work to be more exciting than teaching, but--"
"It's not about excitement," Charlie protested. "The consulting I do for the FBI helps save lives. And I believe if you asked my students--"
"This isn't just about your students," Ian interrupted him. "There's a matter of... visibility. The right kind of visibility," he added, before Charlie could point out the newspaper mentions his work received. "There is a certain sector of university benefactors who are not likely to see you on the streets of LA calculating bullet trajectories. They still need to be motivated to contribute."
Charlie had had enough, and he stood up to move over to the chalkboard, knowing he was losing precious time to narrow down the potential locations of Don's current suspect. Edgerton let him go, and Charlie felt him watching him work for a few minutes.
"There's a benefit dinner this Friday," Edgerton finally said. He stood up from the desk and leaned carefully against a blank space on the chalkboard. "Your attendance is mandatory."
Charlie frowned.
"Wear a tux. You'll look like James Bond."
And then Edgerton winked and walked out.
Agent Finch's tracking and the math Charlie sent over both proved successful, but in the end Megan's negotiation skills saved the day, allowing everyone to go home alive and well. Colby gave her a high five and promised to buy her a beer the next time they went out.
Charlie was already at his apartment by the time Colby got home, looking freshly showered and sporting one of Colby's shirts. He was lying on the bed, awake but obviously tired.
"Hey," Colby said, nudging his foot. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Charlie said. "I just had the weirdest day."
"No shit," Colby agreed. "Mine was weirder."
"You haven't even heard about mine yet!" Charlie protested.
"Alright, alright," Colby conceded, hiding his amusement at the display of little-brother outrage. "But I'm all grimy. Order a pizza while I take a shower and then we can trade war stories."
30 minutes later they sat in the bed side by side, sharing a half-emptied pizza box and measuring their days against each other's.
"Seriously, this woman was a legend when I was in the Army. I'm pretty sure some guys beat off just to the idea of her. And today it turns out she's this roly-poly grandmother who took 15 minutes to lecture about how to tell if coyote scat is fresh."
"Wow. Sounds titillating."
"Oh, it was," Colby said. He took a bite and they both chewed in silence for another minute.
"He really winked at you?" he asked.
"He winked."
"I mean, I can't disagree about the tux thing," Colby clarified. "But winking..." He shook his head. "I don't trust the guy."
"You're just jealous," Charlie said sleepily, sliding down to rest his head on Colby's shoulder. Colby looked down, watching him for a moment.
"Yeah," he said. "Maybe."
ALSO, I am taking votes! In the ~sequel~ (which may or may not ever be written), should Alan start dating Ian or Millie?? :-D
Title: Just Another Day
Pairing/Characters: Colby/Charlie, Ian, Millie, Don
Characters switched: Ian and Millie
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He'd heard the stories about Mildred Finch, of her amazing tracking and sniping skills.
Word Count: 1044
Spoilers: 3x09 "Waste Not" and 2x09 "Toxin"
Warnings: none
Notes: Unbetaed. I took extreme liberties with twisting canon for my own nefarious purposes, including combining episodes from two different seasons (heh), so... please forgive me.
Challenge: numb3rsficathon Trading Places (Role Reversal)
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I profit from their use here. This is only for fun.
It was a terrible morning. Charlie's alarm clock hadn't gone off, he'd skipped breakfast and taken a two-minute shower, and he was relatively certain he'd accidentally grabbed his gym shirt instead of the clean t-shirt he'd been aiming for while getting dressed. His car was in the shop, the bus he'd planned to catch was long gone by the time he'd left the house, and his dad was already out in his own car, attending a meeting.
He rode his bike through the heat, feeling sweat forming along his brow, uncomfortably matting his already damp hair.
He got to campus and discovered he'd forgotten his bike lock. Cursing under his breath, he wheeled the bike through the hallways down to his office, searching his pockets for his keys as he did so.
The door was already open.
There was a stranger waiting in his office: height a few inches above average, build significantly more muscular than average, haircut short enough to be military, eyes piercing and intense behind his wire-rim glasses. He turned to eye Charlie as he walked in, and Charlie felt intimidated, despite it being his own office.
"Well," the man said slowly. His voice was deep but mild. "Aren't we looking... professorial today."
Charlie felt the curls plastered to his head wither just a bit more to achieve a full-blown drowned rat look. He shook it off, standing up straight and raising his eyebrow expectantly.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met. Can I help you with something?"
The stranger grinned, looking oddly pleased with himself. He held out his hand to shake. "I'm Dr. Ian Edgerton. Your new boss."
Colby felt the dust dry in his throat, itchy in his eyes, swept up over the ridge and into his face by the hot summer wind. He stayed down, waiting. Watching.
He'd heard the stories about Mildred Finch, of her amazing tracking and sniping skills, but he'd never had the honor of meeting her in person before. Instead, he'd built up an image in his mind of this badass, Amazonian woman, hair graying slightly perhaps, lines running deeper in her face from a few extra years--extra knowledge and experience and maturity. He'd spun a very pretty picture of the legendary agent.
His radio crackled.
"Colby," Don's voice sounded. "Agent Finch is here. I'm sending Finnegan to relieve you so you can come meet her."
He braced himself, taking a deep breath and telling himself to stay cool, even as he mentally drafted letters of bragging to his old army buddies. Then he left his post.
Agent Mildred Finch was slightly short, slightly overweight, and pretty enough but not sexy. She looked like she could be somebody's grandma. She did not look like a sniper.
"Agent Granger," she greeted him warmly, sticking out her hand. He shook it, trying to recover from the shock of dashed expectations.
"Agent Finch," he said.
"Oh, please," she told him, "call me Millie."
Dr. Edgerton rested his elbows on Charlie's desk and steepled his fingers. Charlie's hands itched for chalk.
"I've been reviewing your work," Edgerton started. "There are... concerns."
Charlie waited. Edgerton leaned forward. "There are concerns," he repeated, "that you have been neglecting your obligations to this university."
Charlie did his best to refrain from scoffing.
"I understand that you may find your consulting work to be more exciting than teaching, but--"
"It's not about excitement," Charlie protested. "The consulting I do for the FBI helps save lives. And I believe if you asked my students--"
"This isn't just about your students," Ian interrupted him. "There's a matter of... visibility. The right kind of visibility," he added, before Charlie could point out the newspaper mentions his work received. "There is a certain sector of university benefactors who are not likely to see you on the streets of LA calculating bullet trajectories. They still need to be motivated to contribute."
Charlie had had enough, and he stood up to move over to the chalkboard, knowing he was losing precious time to narrow down the potential locations of Don's current suspect. Edgerton let him go, and Charlie felt him watching him work for a few minutes.
"There's a benefit dinner this Friday," Edgerton finally said. He stood up from the desk and leaned carefully against a blank space on the chalkboard. "Your attendance is mandatory."
Charlie frowned.
"Wear a tux. You'll look like James Bond."
And then Edgerton winked and walked out.
Agent Finch's tracking and the math Charlie sent over both proved successful, but in the end Megan's negotiation skills saved the day, allowing everyone to go home alive and well. Colby gave her a high five and promised to buy her a beer the next time they went out.
Charlie was already at his apartment by the time Colby got home, looking freshly showered and sporting one of Colby's shirts. He was lying on the bed, awake but obviously tired.
"Hey," Colby said, nudging his foot. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Charlie said. "I just had the weirdest day."
"No shit," Colby agreed. "Mine was weirder."
"You haven't even heard about mine yet!" Charlie protested.
"Alright, alright," Colby conceded, hiding his amusement at the display of little-brother outrage. "But I'm all grimy. Order a pizza while I take a shower and then we can trade war stories."
30 minutes later they sat in the bed side by side, sharing a half-emptied pizza box and measuring their days against each other's.
"Seriously, this woman was a legend when I was in the Army. I'm pretty sure some guys beat off just to the idea of her. And today it turns out she's this roly-poly grandmother who took 15 minutes to lecture about how to tell if coyote scat is fresh."
"Wow. Sounds titillating."
"Oh, it was," Colby said. He took a bite and they both chewed in silence for another minute.
"He really winked at you?" he asked.
"He winked."
"I mean, I can't disagree about the tux thing," Colby clarified. "But winking..." He shook his head. "I don't trust the guy."
"You're just jealous," Charlie said sleepily, sliding down to rest his head on Colby's shoulder. Colby looked down, watching him for a moment.
"Yeah," he said. "Maybe."