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numb3rsflashficTitle: Someone
Pairing: Charlie Eppes/Colby Granger
Rating: R
Warnings: Semi-graphic descriptions of rape and murder
Summary: Charlie comes over after a rough case.
Notes: Set in my Precious Moments 'verse, after Meeting the 'In-Law'. Title is from DHT's song Someone
Spoilers: None
You can't eat, you can't sleep, you can weep when you love someone
Feels extreme when you dream, and you scream when you love someone
If you feel that strong
Can you see that one
Let me be your
Someone to hold you tight
Someone to make you feel alright
Everyday and night
Someone to hold you when you're weak
Someone to make you feel complete
Everyday and night
Someone
Colby doesn't move out from under the pounding water when the shower door clicks open. Nuada is generally a quiet dog, but he knows when to bark. In other words, the only people in LA Nuada doesn't bark at are Colby, himself, and Charlie, so, by process of elimination, Colby knows exactly whose body will be pressing up against his long before the familiar body plasters itself to his back. Familiar lips trace a line from his shoulder, up his neck, to his ear where familiar teeth nip at his earlobe. A familiar voice whispers in his ear, "Should've called me,"
"It's nothing," Colby protests, not turning around.
"Don came home looking like death warmed over from over three nights of no sleep and even less food," the voice counters. "He told me he was riding you guys hard on this one,"
Colby shake his head. One of the downsides to going out with his boss' brother is that he never knows when Don will tell on him. "Nosy bastard," Colby grumbles without heat, a faint smile coming unbidden when he feels more than hears Charlie's soft laugh.
"He's just looking out for you," Charlie answers. Charlie's hand appears in Colby's field of vision when he reaches for the bar of Irish Spring on the rack that hangs under the showerhead. Colby watches silently as Charlie wets the soap. His eyes close when Charlie's hand moves out of sight. Behind him, he hears the sound of Charlie rubbing the bar between his hands, working up a supply of lather, and then feels Charlie's hands settle on his tight shoulders, massaging gently as he washes, drawing soft sighs and groans from deep in Colby's chest.
Colby stands docilely as Charlie washes his back and legs. This isn't the first time they've showered together, nor is it the first time Charlie has come over, unannounced, after a harrowing case, but the feeling of being ministered to is coveted enough that Colby doesn't feel the desire to end it any time soon. When he feels Charlie directing him to turn around, he turns willingly, his eyes open so tired, haunted, hazel eyes meet sympathetic, loving brown.
Charlie leans forward and kisses Colby softly, drawing a wan smile from Colby. "Hi," Charlie says belatedly.
Colby's smile becomes a little more true. "Hey," he replies softly.
That is all that is said before Charlie picks up where he left off in his washing. Colby's eyes track Charlie's hands as they comb through the smattering of hair on Colby's chest and around his nipples then trail down to his tight stomach, the muscles twitching under Charlie's touch. Charlie diverts back up to Colby's arms, caressing the hard-earned muscles and tracing the veins from his shoulders down to his wrists.
Once his arms are rinsed clean, Colby snags Charlie around the waist, drawing him closer so Colby can kiss him. Charlie moans softly as Colby's tongue sneaks out to lap the water from Charlie's lips. Charlie opens to Colby's searching tongue and his own tongue tangles around Colby's. They move together, their cocks rub against each other as they lose themselves in the kiss. Colby's arm tightens, pressing even closer as if desperate to crawl under Charlie's skin.
Charlie gently breaks the kiss, his hand coming up to cup Colby's cheek. Colby looks away from Charlie's probing gaze, conscious of the pain and fear that hide behind his eyes. "What is it?" Charlie asks softly. "What happened?"
"It's nothing," Colby lies.
"It's not nothing, Colby," Charlie protests. "You're shaking like a leaf,"
Colby blinks as he realizes that he is shaking. "I--," Colby stops and swallows before trying again. "It was a serial killer. He was killing gay men, Charlie,"
"Oh God," Charlie whispers. He reaches around Colby and turns off the water. "Come on," he says, pulling gently on Colby's hand, guiding him from the shower. He grabs the towel hanging on the bar and gently dries Colby before drying himself. Charlie leads the way into the bedroom, towards the bed, but Colby balks.
"Not in here," Colby whispers. It's his turn to lead now as he heads for his office, Charlie trailing behind him. He settles into his easy chair, pulls Charlie down onto his lap, and wraps his arms tightly around Charlie's waist. He needs to feel Charlie in his arms, needs to know that he's there and not dead at the hands of some serial killer. The soft click of Nuada's blunt claws on the wood flooring announce his arrival before a cold nose sniffs Colby's bare knee. Charlie reaches down and rubs Nuada's ears. "Down," Colby commands and Nuada lays down next to the chair, his muzzle resting on Colby's foot.
Charlie turns back to Colby. "Tell me," he says softly.
"He went to bars, clubs, coffee houses, practically every place that catered specifically to gays, places we've been to," Colby starts as he stares out the window, eyes blank as he remembers the crime scene photos. "He pretended to be on the prowl, but he wasn't looking for the single men. He specifically looked for the ones that were in a relationship but without their significant other at the time. He'd gain their trust then offer to walk them to their car, he dragged them into his own car, and then he'd take them to his house. He raped them with so many different things: knife handles, guns, pipes, screwdrivers, and other things we couldn't identify, and then he'd beat them when they finally fell unconscious from the pain. He held them until they retreated into their own minds to escape the pain then he strangled them," he looks up at Charlie, tears trailing down his cheeks unnoticed. "I knew some of them,"
Charlie wraps his arms around Colby and buries his face against Colby's neck. He understands now what Colby was afraid of: he was afraid Charlie would be next. He'd held that fear in during the month that the team worked on the case. Any time Charlie tried to bring up the case, Colby would shut him down, saying the case belonged at the office, not at home, not in their own private world. Charlie cards his fingers through Colby's hair, smoothing the damp, loose curls. "I'm here, I'm still with you," Charlie whispers softly, his lips moving against Colby's skin.
"I know," Colby replies softly, his arms still wrapped around Charlie's waist, but they were looser now, resting rather than clutching. The two men rest there as the room grows steadily darker as the sun sets over Los Angeles.
When the room is lit only by the streetlights outside and the full moon rising, Charlie pulls back far enough to see Colby's face in the dim light and smiles. Colby's eyes are closed and his breathing is even and deep.
Charlie presses a soft kiss to Colby's forehead then slips gently from Colby's arms, careful not to step on Nuada, and pads through the quiet apartment to the bedroom, flipping on a few table lamps as he passes. He pulls on his jeans and t-shirt, enough to be presentable should anyone show up unexpectedly, before heading for the kitchen. He checks through the coupons on the fridge, held up by magnets, until he finds the number for the closest Pizza Hut.
Forty-five minutes later, Colby wakes to the smell of sausage and pepperoni pizza. He opens his eyes and stretches in the chair. He looks around and frowns when he realizes that Charlie isn't in the room. Still only half-awake, he stands up and stumbles towards the living room.
"Hey, sleepy-head," Charlie says from his spot on the couch.
"Pizza?" Colby inquires sleepily.
"In the kitchen, but you might want to get dressed first," Charlie answers amusedly.
Colby looks down and grunts before heading for the bedroom, Charlie's laughter floating along behind him. He dresses quickly, hungry for the first time in days. He follows the tantalizing scent into the kitchen, grabs two slices, and puts them on the paper plate next to the open box then joins Charlie on the couch. As he eats, he watches Charlie who is on the edge of his cushion, scribbling in a notebook that's open on the coffee table. A soft whine sounds at his elbow and Colby looks down into Nuada's wide, begging eyes. "Nuh-uh, you moocher. My dinner," Colby tells him. Nuada gets up and trots around the coffee table until he's next to Charlie and nudges his elbow. Charlie absently reaches out and plucks a piece of sausage off his cold pizza and gives to Nuada. "Traitor," Colby grumbles without heat, leaning back against the sofa cushions.
"Hmm?" Charlie murmurs, not looking up.
"Never mind," Colby tells him with a smile.
End.
Pairing: Charlie Eppes/Colby Granger
Rating: R
Warnings: Semi-graphic descriptions of rape and murder
Summary: Charlie comes over after a rough case.
Notes: Set in my Precious Moments 'verse, after Meeting the 'In-Law'. Title is from DHT's song Someone
Spoilers: None
You can't eat, you can't sleep, you can weep when you love someone
Feels extreme when you dream, and you scream when you love someone
If you feel that strong
Can you see that one
Let me be your
Someone to hold you tight
Someone to make you feel alright
Everyday and night
Someone to hold you when you're weak
Someone to make you feel complete
Everyday and night
Colby doesn't move out from under the pounding water when the shower door clicks open. Nuada is generally a quiet dog, but he knows when to bark. In other words, the only people in LA Nuada doesn't bark at are Colby, himself, and Charlie, so, by process of elimination, Colby knows exactly whose body will be pressing up against his long before the familiar body plasters itself to his back. Familiar lips trace a line from his shoulder, up his neck, to his ear where familiar teeth nip at his earlobe. A familiar voice whispers in his ear, "Should've called me,"
"It's nothing," Colby protests, not turning around.
"Don came home looking like death warmed over from over three nights of no sleep and even less food," the voice counters. "He told me he was riding you guys hard on this one,"
Colby shake his head. One of the downsides to going out with his boss' brother is that he never knows when Don will tell on him. "Nosy bastard," Colby grumbles without heat, a faint smile coming unbidden when he feels more than hears Charlie's soft laugh.
"He's just looking out for you," Charlie answers. Charlie's hand appears in Colby's field of vision when he reaches for the bar of Irish Spring on the rack that hangs under the showerhead. Colby watches silently as Charlie wets the soap. His eyes close when Charlie's hand moves out of sight. Behind him, he hears the sound of Charlie rubbing the bar between his hands, working up a supply of lather, and then feels Charlie's hands settle on his tight shoulders, massaging gently as he washes, drawing soft sighs and groans from deep in Colby's chest.
Colby stands docilely as Charlie washes his back and legs. This isn't the first time they've showered together, nor is it the first time Charlie has come over, unannounced, after a harrowing case, but the feeling of being ministered to is coveted enough that Colby doesn't feel the desire to end it any time soon. When he feels Charlie directing him to turn around, he turns willingly, his eyes open so tired, haunted, hazel eyes meet sympathetic, loving brown.
Charlie leans forward and kisses Colby softly, drawing a wan smile from Colby. "Hi," Charlie says belatedly.
Colby's smile becomes a little more true. "Hey," he replies softly.
That is all that is said before Charlie picks up where he left off in his washing. Colby's eyes track Charlie's hands as they comb through the smattering of hair on Colby's chest and around his nipples then trail down to his tight stomach, the muscles twitching under Charlie's touch. Charlie diverts back up to Colby's arms, caressing the hard-earned muscles and tracing the veins from his shoulders down to his wrists.
Once his arms are rinsed clean, Colby snags Charlie around the waist, drawing him closer so Colby can kiss him. Charlie moans softly as Colby's tongue sneaks out to lap the water from Charlie's lips. Charlie opens to Colby's searching tongue and his own tongue tangles around Colby's. They move together, their cocks rub against each other as they lose themselves in the kiss. Colby's arm tightens, pressing even closer as if desperate to crawl under Charlie's skin.
Charlie gently breaks the kiss, his hand coming up to cup Colby's cheek. Colby looks away from Charlie's probing gaze, conscious of the pain and fear that hide behind his eyes. "What is it?" Charlie asks softly. "What happened?"
"It's nothing," Colby lies.
"It's not nothing, Colby," Charlie protests. "You're shaking like a leaf,"
Colby blinks as he realizes that he is shaking. "I--," Colby stops and swallows before trying again. "It was a serial killer. He was killing gay men, Charlie,"
"Oh God," Charlie whispers. He reaches around Colby and turns off the water. "Come on," he says, pulling gently on Colby's hand, guiding him from the shower. He grabs the towel hanging on the bar and gently dries Colby before drying himself. Charlie leads the way into the bedroom, towards the bed, but Colby balks.
"Not in here," Colby whispers. It's his turn to lead now as he heads for his office, Charlie trailing behind him. He settles into his easy chair, pulls Charlie down onto his lap, and wraps his arms tightly around Charlie's waist. He needs to feel Charlie in his arms, needs to know that he's there and not dead at the hands of some serial killer. The soft click of Nuada's blunt claws on the wood flooring announce his arrival before a cold nose sniffs Colby's bare knee. Charlie reaches down and rubs Nuada's ears. "Down," Colby commands and Nuada lays down next to the chair, his muzzle resting on Colby's foot.
Charlie turns back to Colby. "Tell me," he says softly.
"He went to bars, clubs, coffee houses, practically every place that catered specifically to gays, places we've been to," Colby starts as he stares out the window, eyes blank as he remembers the crime scene photos. "He pretended to be on the prowl, but he wasn't looking for the single men. He specifically looked for the ones that were in a relationship but without their significant other at the time. He'd gain their trust then offer to walk them to their car, he dragged them into his own car, and then he'd take them to his house. He raped them with so many different things: knife handles, guns, pipes, screwdrivers, and other things we couldn't identify, and then he'd beat them when they finally fell unconscious from the pain. He held them until they retreated into their own minds to escape the pain then he strangled them," he looks up at Charlie, tears trailing down his cheeks unnoticed. "I knew some of them,"
Charlie wraps his arms around Colby and buries his face against Colby's neck. He understands now what Colby was afraid of: he was afraid Charlie would be next. He'd held that fear in during the month that the team worked on the case. Any time Charlie tried to bring up the case, Colby would shut him down, saying the case belonged at the office, not at home, not in their own private world. Charlie cards his fingers through Colby's hair, smoothing the damp, loose curls. "I'm here, I'm still with you," Charlie whispers softly, his lips moving against Colby's skin.
"I know," Colby replies softly, his arms still wrapped around Charlie's waist, but they were looser now, resting rather than clutching. The two men rest there as the room grows steadily darker as the sun sets over Los Angeles.
When the room is lit only by the streetlights outside and the full moon rising, Charlie pulls back far enough to see Colby's face in the dim light and smiles. Colby's eyes are closed and his breathing is even and deep.
Charlie presses a soft kiss to Colby's forehead then slips gently from Colby's arms, careful not to step on Nuada, and pads through the quiet apartment to the bedroom, flipping on a few table lamps as he passes. He pulls on his jeans and t-shirt, enough to be presentable should anyone show up unexpectedly, before heading for the kitchen. He checks through the coupons on the fridge, held up by magnets, until he finds the number for the closest Pizza Hut.
Forty-five minutes later, Colby wakes to the smell of sausage and pepperoni pizza. He opens his eyes and stretches in the chair. He looks around and frowns when he realizes that Charlie isn't in the room. Still only half-awake, he stands up and stumbles towards the living room.
"Hey, sleepy-head," Charlie says from his spot on the couch.
"Pizza?" Colby inquires sleepily.
"In the kitchen, but you might want to get dressed first," Charlie answers amusedly.
Colby looks down and grunts before heading for the bedroom, Charlie's laughter floating along behind him. He dresses quickly, hungry for the first time in days. He follows the tantalizing scent into the kitchen, grabs two slices, and puts them on the paper plate next to the open box then joins Charlie on the couch. As he eats, he watches Charlie who is on the edge of his cushion, scribbling in a notebook that's open on the coffee table. A soft whine sounds at his elbow and Colby looks down into Nuada's wide, begging eyes. "Nuh-uh, you moocher. My dinner," Colby tells him. Nuada gets up and trots around the coffee table until he's next to Charlie and nudges his elbow. Charlie absently reaches out and plucks a piece of sausage off his cold pizza and gives to Nuada. "Traitor," Colby grumbles without heat, leaning back against the sofa cushions.
"Hmm?" Charlie murmurs, not looking up.
"Never mind," Colby tells him with a smile.
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Date: 2006-06-15 05:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-18 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-20 08:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-01 04:47 pm (UTC)portrays there relationship greatly
- mia