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numb3rsflashficTitle: Piano Man
Fandoms: Numb3rs
Characaters: Don, Alan
Rating/Category: PG?
Word Count: 657
Spoilers: The Running Man
Summary: Don plays the piano, Alan listens in.
Notes: Sometime after Running Man, but the epsiodes after it don't come into play.
Don hesitated for a moment before turning the page. He thought he had heard something, but he decided he had imagined it when he didn’t hear it again. His father was in some meeting, his brother was still at the university, and today was his day off. Even after running through his usual day off routine, he was still feeling like a wind up toy wound up too tight. He’d gone to the house to see if his brother or father were there, and found an empty house. The piano sitting in the corner had caught his eye, and he had been drawn to it almost against his will.
His clumsy fingers danced their way across the white and black keys. If he had thought about it, he’d be amazed at how easily he had picked it back up, after years of not playing.
The music was proving to be more therapeutic than he’d originally thought. He could feel the tension and stress leaving his body. He remembered playing as a boy, when he was taking lessons. He didn’t necessarily hate the lessons… he just didn’t understand why he had to take them, in his mind, it was only one more way for Charlie to outshine him. He talked his mother into letting him quit. He remembered Charlie immediately trying to convince her to let him quit, but she only let him quit once he promised to not let go of music all together. Why had she done that? What about Charlie had made her keep trying, where she let Don let go all together?
The sharp trill of his cell phone jostled him out of his thoughts. He sighed, and his shoulders slumped as he reached for the offending object still clipped to his waist.
“Eppes.” He answered briskly, without looking at the display, bracing himself for whatever bad news was coming that day. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Hey Chuck.” His surprise turned to a smirk at his brother’s response. “Yeah sure, I can be there. Give me twenty minutes?” He grinned, hung up the phone and clipping it back to his belt, he stood and after quickly putting the music back in its place, headed for the front door.
A few minutes after Don closed the door after him, Alan crept out of the kitchen. He had been convinced that his son had caught on to his presence at the house at one point, and was oddly relieved when he heard the piano start playing again. He had been concerned when he saw his son’s SUV at the house in the middle of the day, especially since neither he nor his youngest son were there, but when he walked in through the kitchen, he heard the piano playing softly and froze on the spot. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he would go through that door and see his wife sitting there, playing to an empty house. That wishful thinking was shattered when he heard his son’s cell phone ring and the playing stopped. He smiled as he listened to Don’s side of the conversation.
He felt his chest fill with pride as he heard his son get up and walk out the door. After waiting a few moments, he slipped into the dining room, and looked over at the piano sitting innocently in the corner. If he hadn’t been there to witness the event, would he have ever known that the piano was in use? How often did Don do this, he wondered to himself, walking over to the large instrument. How often did he come to this empty house, to give life to little notes on a page? Was it an escape for him? Or was he just trying to feel closer to his mother? He realized that, despite becoming closer to Don over the past four years, he still had so much to learn about his son.
Fandoms: Numb3rs
Characaters: Don, Alan
Rating/Category: PG?
Word Count: 657
Spoilers: The Running Man
Summary: Don plays the piano, Alan listens in.
Notes: Sometime after Running Man, but the epsiodes after it don't come into play.
Don hesitated for a moment before turning the page. He thought he had heard something, but he decided he had imagined it when he didn’t hear it again. His father was in some meeting, his brother was still at the university, and today was his day off. Even after running through his usual day off routine, he was still feeling like a wind up toy wound up too tight. He’d gone to the house to see if his brother or father were there, and found an empty house. The piano sitting in the corner had caught his eye, and he had been drawn to it almost against his will.
His clumsy fingers danced their way across the white and black keys. If he had thought about it, he’d be amazed at how easily he had picked it back up, after years of not playing.
The music was proving to be more therapeutic than he’d originally thought. He could feel the tension and stress leaving his body. He remembered playing as a boy, when he was taking lessons. He didn’t necessarily hate the lessons… he just didn’t understand why he had to take them, in his mind, it was only one more way for Charlie to outshine him. He talked his mother into letting him quit. He remembered Charlie immediately trying to convince her to let him quit, but she only let him quit once he promised to not let go of music all together. Why had she done that? What about Charlie had made her keep trying, where she let Don let go all together?
The sharp trill of his cell phone jostled him out of his thoughts. He sighed, and his shoulders slumped as he reached for the offending object still clipped to his waist.
“Eppes.” He answered briskly, without looking at the display, bracing himself for whatever bad news was coming that day. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Hey Chuck.” His surprise turned to a smirk at his brother’s response. “Yeah sure, I can be there. Give me twenty minutes?” He grinned, hung up the phone and clipping it back to his belt, he stood and after quickly putting the music back in its place, headed for the front door.
A few minutes after Don closed the door after him, Alan crept out of the kitchen. He had been convinced that his son had caught on to his presence at the house at one point, and was oddly relieved when he heard the piano start playing again. He had been concerned when he saw his son’s SUV at the house in the middle of the day, especially since neither he nor his youngest son were there, but when he walked in through the kitchen, he heard the piano playing softly and froze on the spot. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he would go through that door and see his wife sitting there, playing to an empty house. That wishful thinking was shattered when he heard his son’s cell phone ring and the playing stopped. He smiled as he listened to Don’s side of the conversation.
He felt his chest fill with pride as he heard his son get up and walk out the door. After waiting a few moments, he slipped into the dining room, and looked over at the piano sitting innocently in the corner. If he hadn’t been there to witness the event, would he have ever known that the piano was in use? How often did Don do this, he wondered to himself, walking over to the large instrument. How often did he come to this empty house, to give life to little notes on a page? Was it an escape for him? Or was he just trying to feel closer to his mother? He realized that, despite becoming closer to Don over the past four years, he still had so much to learn about his son.
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