Looking for Love | By : IrenaAdler Category: M through R > NUMB3RS Views: 2207 -:- 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. |
Part 1 – Down Fall
/…How many roads
you’ve traveled…/
Don had a problem. He
craved warm, physical sex. He wanted, to
be honest, to fuck his brother’s boyfriend.
But not with his brother there. He wanted Colby all to himself, like he had
before Charlie. Charlie would never
understand. He was possessive, obsessive. And Colby was totally in love, totally
wrapped up in “his Charlie”.
Charlie would never forgive him, but Don couldn’t stop
thinking about feel of that round ass, those strong arms holding him, the taste
of that thick cock. With David, sex was
always a little … calculated. In the
past, at least before Charlie, Colby had been fully present, fully
engaged. He made Don feel
important, cherished.
Dammit, he made Don feel
loved. And now he was gone, gone forever
to his greedy little brother who always got everything he ever wanted. Don had no delusions about being able to
compete for Colby’s heart. But he’d take
his body instead.
One evening, Don asked Colby to come over to his apartment on
some work pretext. Waiting for Colby to
arrive, Don paced around his apartment, reminding himself how much fun they’d
had that one weekend before he messed things up.
When Colby came, Don shut the door behind him then pressed
Colby up against the wall, his hands on Colby’s chest, his mouth finding
Colby’s.
At first, everything was fine – Colby responded, pulling Don
close and kissing him back.
Then Colby stiffened and pushed Don gently away. “I’m sorry, Don. I can’t.”
“Why not?” Don said, moving close
again, his fingers on Colby’s neck.
“You know why not,” Colby sighed. “Charlie.”
“Charlie doesn’t have to know,” Don said, rubbing his palms
against Colby’s strong chest.
“Don, no.” Colby
said, pushing Don away more firmly. “I
promised Charlie.”
“Your body is saying yes,” Don said, sliding his hand down
to Colby’s crotch. He can’t say no. He wants me, he
has to.
“Don,” Colby said uneasily.
“Don’t do this.”
“You want it,” Don said tensely. If
he’ll just give in, he’ll see…
“It doesn’t matter if I want it or not,” Colby said. “I’d love to be with you again, but I
promised Charlie that there would be no one else.”
“Oh yes, Charlie,”
Don snapped. “Always gets what he
wants. What does it matter what I
want? He’s the important one, he’s
the genius. And I’m just something you
toss aside when you’ve gotten what you want.”
“It’s not like that,” Colby protested. “I never meant to hurt you, we just—“
Abruptly, Colby went quiet and cold. “Don?
What are you doing?”
Don blinked and looked down at his hand. He was holding Colby’s gun. He stared at it, mesmerized by its sleek
power. With it, he could make Colby love
him again. He looked up at Colby and
Colby’s eyes went hard at whatever he saw on Don’s face.
Colby shoved Don back and punched him in the mouth. Don stumbled backwards and Colby snatched the
gun from Don’s hand.
Pain cleared the haze from Don’s head. Don touched his mouth and stared at Colby,
horror crashing in on him. I almost … I wanted to …
Don’s vision blurred and his stomach heaved. He ran to the bathroom, fell to the floor, and
vomited into the toilet. “Oh, God,” he
moaned in self-loathing and despair. “Oh, God.” He looked blearily up. Colby was standing in the doorway with his
fists clenched. “I’m so sorry, Colby,
I’m so sorry.”
Colby stood silently for a moment then his fists
relaxed. He shook his head. “It’s been a little weird, I know, because we
were together and all. David and I are
the ones who got you started on this whole thing, and I don’t regret it and I
hope to God you don’t either. But you
need to understand that I’m Charlie’s now, body and soul.”
“I know,” Don mumbled.
“You’re Charlie’s Charlie’s Charlie’s.”
Colby grimaced. “Let’s
forget about this completely.” Then his
face grew hard again. “But don’t ever
take my gun like that again. And listen
when someone tells you ‘no.’”
Don remembered how the gun had felt in his hand and his
stomach heaved again.
Colby tucked his shirt back in and said with forced
cheerfulness, “Gotta go. See you at work
tomorrow.”
Don turned back to the toilet and didn’t answer. He heard Colby open the apartment door and
shut it quietly behind him. He rested
his cheek on the porcelain and listened to the silence filling up his
apartment. He remembered his wild
certainty that Colby did want it, that he just needed a little convincing, that
he’d be happy once he gave in. So this is what rapists feel like and
Don’s whole body shuddered. He stumbled
to his feet, wiped his face, and hoped there was enough beer in the world to wash
the foul taste out of his mouth.
Don called in sick to work the next day, and the next. He drank through his substantial supply of
beer, but could still think, still feel the sick helplessness inside. He ordered pizza delivery from a place that
he knew would also deliver beer. He ate
one piece of the pizza and drank all three of the six packs. He wished he’d ordered more.
He sat on the couch and gazed unseeing at the flickering TV. He wondered if he needed to call in sick to
work again but couldn’t remember what day it was or if he’d already called.
There was a knock on his door. Had he ordered pizza again? Maybe he did.
The prospect of more beer got him off the couch and stumbling to the
door. He opened the door and focused,
frowning, on the person outside the door.
“You’re not the pizza guy,” he told his father.
“Don!” Alan said, his voice shocked. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Don
said, weaving back to his couch. “I’m
out of beer, that’s what’s wrong.”
Alan followed Don in and shut the door behind him. “Megan called me and I’m glad she did. What did you do to your mouth? You look awful.”
“I’m out of beer,” Don explained with what felt like
remarkable patience. He began picking up
empty beer bottles and shaking them, wondering if he’d missed a swallow
anywhere.
“Don, when’s the last time you ate?”
“Pizza,” Don said, pointing to the cold and mostly whole
pizza. He returned to checking the beer
bottles. He’d lost track of which
bottles he’d checked and started over again.
“Forget food for now,” Alan said. “When’s the last time you slept?”
“No more beer,” Don said sadly, reaching the end of the bottles.
“No more beer,” Alan agreed firmly. “Let’s just get you to bed.”
He took Don’s arm and tried to steer him towards the
bedroom. Don pulled back fearfully. The bedroom, his bed, was empty empty
empty. He couldn’t sleep there. Never again. “No bed!” he cried.
“Okay, okay,” Alan said soothingly. “How about you sleep here, on the couch?”
“Couch.” Don said and sat down on the couch. He began picking up and shaking the empty
beer bottles again.
“Let me take care of that,” Alan said, gently prying the
bottle out of Don’s hand. He cleared the
pile of bottles onto the floor. He disappeared
then quickly returned, carrying a pillow and a blanket. He placed the pillow on the end of the couch.
“You just lay down here.”
Don stared at the pillow then lowered his head to the soft
surface. Maybe he had drank
enough so that he wouldn’t see Colby’s face when he closed his eyes, see that
look of disgust and anger.
Alan reappeared with a wet washcloth. He carefully dabbed at Don’s mouth and Don
was surprised to see blood come away. Oh
right, Colby had hit him. Days ago. He’d
deserved it.
“Deserved it,” Don mumbled.
“Shh,” Alan said and pulled the blanket over Don.
Don grabbed his hand. “Don’t leave me, too!”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Alan said, patting Don’s
shoulder. He sat down on the floor next
to the couch and picked up an old newspaper.
“Now, sleep.”
“Okay, Dad.” Don
closed his eyes. Before Colby’s face
could appear, Alan rustled the newspaper and banished it. Don dropped into unconsciousness.
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