Adult-FanFiction.org : Television / Streaming

Looking for Love	By : IrenaAdler Category: M through R > NUMB3RS Views: 2208 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own NUMB3RS, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
Part 18 �- Time and baseball

Three months went by from the That Day, as Don privately
called it.� Don didn�t go to any more gay
bars or clubs.� He did go to a few coffee
houses and such, where he let himself look openly at both men and women.� His wounds were, in large, completely healed
with only faint scars, some small spots on his chest where hair wouldn�t grow
back, and a slightly crooked left pinkie.

Don fought daily the urge to just drift through his
life.� He forced himself to be present, there, for every situation.� When he was at work, he tried to be the best
agent he could, pushing himself even harder than before.� When he wasn�t at work, he teased his
brother, played golf with his father, and tried not to drink more than three or
four beers a night.� He never thought
about Will. In fact, he spent a great deal of time thinking about how he never
thought about Will.

Don was Charlie�s support when Charlie told his dad about
his love for Colby.� � And
got to enjoy Charlie�s shock from the other side when his dad took in all in
stride.� Colby came over to the
house after that, unsure of his welcome at first, but soon he was a regular
fixture around the dinner table and anywhere else Charlie was.� Don found it inside him to be happy for them,
and he was glad.

The Ducks did make it to the playoffs and Don even splurged
on a ticket to a second-round game against the Avalanche.� He left after the first period since he kept wanting to turn and comment on something to Will.

He spent a number of hours wandering around malls, searching
for something appropriate to send to the man that saved his life, reputation
and body but then had quarreled with bitterly.�
It wasn�t until he was waiting for a suspect outside an art gallery that
he saw it.� He came back later and spent
way too much money for it, but it was perfect.

He didn�t know Will�s home address, though he could have
found out fairly easily, but somehow sending something to Will�s house seemed
too personal.� Too much emotion and
memory was tied up with that house.

Don pulled the lovely thing out of the box and stared at
it.� It was a small sculpture about the
size of a fist and it was of a tiger.� It
wasn�t some generic �realistic representation� though.� It was slightly stylized and showed the tiger
about to leap, but somehow the artist had captured in its orange and black
striped stone the essence of a
tiger.� It was also the essence of the
look that Will had given him when they first met.� Don wondered if, when Will collected tigers
as a kid, he realized he�d ever turn into one himself.

Sighing, Don put the tiger back
into the box, and sent the box to Will�s office through interdepartmental mail.

After about three and a half months, Don invited David over
to his apartment for some fun.� At first
David went slowly, until Don was reassured that all his parts were back in
working condition.� Then they went at each
other with gusto.� David stayed all night
and they had a lot of fun.� But in the
morning, when David got ready to leave, they looked at each other and silently
acknowledged that this wouldn�t happen again in the foreseeable future.

Though he tried not to allow them, thoughts of Will would
sometimes overwhelm Don, usually late at night or when he saw a tall dark-haired
man.� In his new mode of trying to be
honest with himself, he admitted that he was afraid of Will, afraid of himself.� Going down that path only meant
heartache.� He told himself firmly that
Will was out of his life.� That sometime he
would find a nice girl who would make him forget all about Will.�

June arrived and baseball season for the local League
started.� Don let himself be talked into
playing first base and batting clean-up, the power hitter spot, for the FBI�s
team.� The league this year had splurged
on real uniforms and Don felt a sense of d�j� vu as he pulled on the form-skimming
baseball pants and tucked in the short-sleeved button-front jersey.� He�d even been able to get his old
number.� He eyed himself in the mirror
and decided that he hadn�t gone too downhill in his years in the FBI.� He clapped a cap over his new short hair and
went out to meet LAPD�s team.

The second game of the season was against the DEA.� Don half hoped, half feared he�d see
Will.� Baseball isn�t his thing, Don told himself firmly, in an attempt to
settle his anxiety.

After Don got in his uniform, he stuck his head out of the
clubhouse and examined the DEA�s dugout then the stands.� No sign of Will.� He bit down an irrational
disappointment.� He was tossing a ball
around the infield with his teammates to get loose when he happened to look
over to the bullpen, the area where pitchers warmed up.� Only the bottom half of the bullpen was
visible, the rest blocked by the scoreboard.�
Someone with very nice legs and ass was warming up for the DEA.� As Don watched what he could see of the
pitcher, his heart began to pound and he knew with a certainty.� Will ��
He felt dual surges of excitement and panic.

When it was time for the game to start, Don left the field
with one eye on the bullpen.� Will came
trotting out, and Don ducked his head and went into the dugout to join his
team.� Once he was safely on the bench,
Don let himself look at Will.� Damn, he makes that uniform look good.

The DEA were the home team, which meant that the FBI was up
to bat first and since Don batted fourth, he could just watch Will for a
while.� It was normal for a player to
watch the opposing pitcher, so no one would suspect that he was relearning
Will�s body with his eyes.� Will�s legs that were firm and perfectly shaped, Will�s muscular
arms flexing under the jersey, Will�s hands as he gripped the ball.� His hair was tightly confined out of his face
and fell in a dark ponytail down his back.�
Don remembered how that hair had felt against his cheek, how it spilled
across the pillow in a silken cloud as he slept in Don�s arms.� Will�s lips were now pursed in concentration,
just like they had been when he�d bathed Don�s wounds.� Lips which would curve easily into a smile or
twist into a quick temper.� He longed for
Will�s eyes to turn to him again, those eyes that burned through all artifice
and saw straight to his soul.

Don�s chest tightened.�
For all his attempts at self-honesty, he�d been lying to himself for the
last four months.� He now knew with
perfect clarity that there would be no next �nice girl.�� There was only Will.� And he�d ruined that.

�Don?� said someone next to him with the tone of voice that
said she�d been calling his name for a while now.

Don blinked and looked over at Megan.� She was the FBI�s catcher, so she was muffled
inside a mask and protective layers.� She
swung up the mask and looked at him.� �I
asked if you knew him.�

�Who?�� Don asked.

Megan smiled.� �Will
Stevens, the pitcher.�

�I met him once.�

�Must have been some meeting,� Megan commented.� �You look like you can�t decide whether to
hit him or kiss him.�

Don winced.� �That obvious?�

�Only to a trained observer,� Megan said cheerfully.� �As in anyone who�s got two
eyes.�

�Thanks for the warning,� Don said.� �I�ll try to be less obvious.�

�Oh, you can be obvious if you want.�� Megan grinned.� �It�s adorable.�

Don gave her an embarrassed glare
and walked down the bench to find his bat.

The first three FBI batters ended up getting outs, so Don
didn�t make it up to bat during the FBI�s turn to hit that inning.� For the bottom of the inning, Don trotted out
to first base.� He had to pass Will
coming in from the field, but Will didn�t even glance his way.� Don tried not to be hurt by that, telling
himself that was just as he deserved.

The DEA�s first three batters went down in order too, so
suddenly it was the second inning and Don was walking to home plate, the bat in
his hand.� Before he stepped into the
batter�s box, he looked at Will.� Will�s
eyes slid over him, like he didn�t even know him.� Don had expected anger, not this �
nothing.� Maybe those three days he�d
spent with Will didn�t mean as much to him as they had to Don.� Was Will�s �crush� so easily forgotten?

Don bit back a sigh, stepped up to the plate, got ready to
swing � and then found himself flat on the dirt where he�d instinctively thrown
himself when the ball had come hurtling at his head.� He got back up and brushed the dirt off.� He glared out at Will, and Will made a
generic apologetic gesture and said something about the ball slipping.� But Don could see a smile hovering around
Will�s mouth.�

Okay, so that�s how
you want to play it �

Setting himself back into the box, Don got ready.� He fouled off the next few pitches until he
got the one he wanted.� He swung and set
the ball blazing back to where it had come from.�� He dropped the bat and ran to first
base.� After he got to first base, he
turned to look at the pitcher�s mound.�
Will was still getting up from the ground where he�d ended up while trying
to both catch and avoid getting clobbered by Don�s ball.� As Will climbed back
to his feet, there was definitely a smile on his face.�

Don made an apologetic shrug but inside he grinned.� Oh,
it�s on.

When the next FBI hitter got up to bat, Don took a generous
lead from first base.� Will shot him a
look and Don stepped back to the base before Will
could throw the ball over.� Will turned
back to the hitter and Don took his lead again, sure that Will
could see him out of the corner of his eye.�
Will stepped off and looked Don back to the base.

Will turned towards the hitter and threw to home plate and
Don was off and running towards second base.�
The hitter swung and missed and the DEA catcher grabbed the ball and
threw it to second base, but Don was already in with a slide.� From the FBI bench, Don heard cheers at his
stolen base.� Don looked to Will who raised
his eyebrows at the challenge.� Will
turned once again to the hitter at the home plate and Don took a lead from
second.

Don let Will throw a few pitches to
this hitter until he struck him out.� The
next hitter came up to the plate.� Will
turned towards home plate and Don took off towards third.� Will spun and threw the ball to the third
baseman.� Don slid in face first but got
tagged out.

He got to his feet, brushed off his uniform, and gave Will a
mock glare.� Will grinned and pointed for
him to take his seat back on the bench.

Shaking his head, Don trotted off the field.

�You got thrown out stealing third?� Don�s teammates groused as Don got back to the bench.

�Sorry, guys,� Don said, grinning.� �I�ll
make it up to you.�

�Okay,� Megan leaned over and said to him, �So you decided
to hit him and kiss him.�

Don laughed, �I guess so.��
He leaned against the wall and watched Will pitch.� There were flaws in Will�s delivery, no
surprise, since Don was used to watching pro pitchers.� But his movements were smooth, easy, and Don
was reminded that Will was a fourth-degree black belt in Aikido.� So much strength and grace in one body.� He remembered how Will�s arms had felt around
him, surprising him with the rightness of that embrace.� If Don was in bed with Will right now,
though, he wouldn�t be sleeping �� Don�s body heated up as he imagined
Will naked underneath him, his hair spread over his shoulders, his eyes mated
with Don�s as Don slowly fucked him.

Swallowing against an incredible surge of arousal, Don
remembered where he was, and more specifically, what he was wearing.� These form-fitting pants showed every line of
his body, including the hard shape of his cock now pressing against the fabric.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply.� Think
of Channing.� The lingering shadow of
anger and humiliation that name conjured up helped Don for a moment, then he
remembered Will�s gentle touch on his body, Will�s hands holding him under the
shower, Will�s wet body so close to his.

�Dammit,� Don snapped, earning a look from Megan.�

1936, Joe DiMaggio,
he recited to himself.� New York Yankees, 637 at bats, 206 hits, 29
home runs, season average .323, four stolen bases.� Don continued, the numbers running
through his mind in a soothing pattern.� 1937, Joe DiMaggio, New York Yankees, 621 at
bats, 215 hits, 46 home runs, season average�
.346, three stolen bases.� By
the time he got to 1941 and DiMaggio�s second MVP, his body was under control
again.

None too soon since Will struck out the last FBI hitter and
Don then had to trot out to first base.�
This time when he passed by Will, their eyes
met briefly and a tingle went through Don.

The bottom of the second inning and top of the third went by
quickly as Don spent his time watching Will and trying not to watch Will.� At the bottom of the third inning, Will was
up to bat.� Don was so distracted by the
way Will gripped the bat that he almost missed the ball that sailed in his
direction.� He backed up and took it on one
hop, then tried to get to first base before Will.� Will flew down the baseline and beat Don
without even sliding.�

Don tossed the ball back to the pitcher.� Will stood with one foot on first base, Don
behind him.� Neither
looked at the other.

�Been a while, Eppes,� Will said.

�Too long,� Don said.�

Will�s eyes flashed towards him then away.� �How are you doing?�� Will asked, the usual polite question taking
on greater meaning.

�I�m doing okay,� Don said.�
�Doing good.�
You?�

�Been getting by,� Will said.

Don didn�t get a chance to reply as the game�s action took
Will to second base.� He didn�t get
another opportunity to talk with him for the rest of the game.� Don took control of his eyes, which kept wanting to search out Will, and tried to concentrate on
the game.�

For the seventh inning, the DEA�s relief pitcher came out
and Will left the field.� Will
disappeared into the locker room and, once Don was able to banish the image of
Will showering, Don turned his full attention to the game.

At the top of the ninth inning, Don hit a double, driving in
the go-ahead run for his team.� His nice
catch at the bottom of the ninth ended the game with an FBI victory.

He accepted the congrats of his
teammates then went to the locker room himself.�
Will was long gone and Don automatically showered and changed into jeans
and a t-shirt.� What, did he think Will would wait for him?�
After the game or in life in general?� He was probably involved with a new crush.

With that depressing thought, Don took his gear back to the
car and began packing it into the trunk.�
He had to find out if Will was with someone.� Will had seemed
happy to see him but �

�Hey G-man,� a familiar voice said, and Don turned to see
Will smiling at him.

�Hey,� Don said, his throat tight.�

They stood in silence for a moment, looking at each other, then Will said, �Some of us are going to a bar to drown our
sorrows.� Want to join us?�

�Are you sure I�d be welcome?�� Don asked.

�I don�t really care,� Will said
softly.

Not really trusting anything that would come out of his
mouth, Don just nodded.� He got into his
car and waited for Will to get into his.�
As he followed Will�s car out of the parking lot, Don felt
the same excitement mixed with fear that he felt when going into arrest a
dangerous fugitive.� Only this time, he
had no Kevlar vest, no gun, no backup.
- 17
- 18
- 19
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Looking for Love