Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Snippet: Charlie was staring searchingly at him while Ian put an arm around his hip and brushed the dark curls out of his forehead with his free hand. “Say yes,” Ian whispered.

Pairing: Charlie/Ian Edgerton
Rating: NC-17
Spoiler: Sniper Zero, Toxin, Two daughters, Spree, Hot Shot
Setting: Season one to Season three
Warnings: Slash, sex, bad words
Author’s note: Written for the Numb3rs New Year Challenge. I’m answering the prompts of Truthwritaslies: 1. How they got together and 2. A fight bad enough that they’re on the verge of breaking up, but something happens and they get back together (though that’s only minor)

Beta: cpwatcher, thank you!
Disclaimer: I’m not making money with this fanfic. The TV-show Numb3rs and the characters appearing within it belong to their producers and creators. Any similarities to living or dead persons are purely coincidental and not intended.

Click here for Part 1
Not The Kind Of Guy Masterlist


Crystal Hoyle had been a case which Ian wouldn’t forget. Neither would Don. He invited Ian over for dinner with his father and Charlie, and Ian - who was exhausted and not in the mood to hunt his dinner down in his hotel’s neighbourhood - went with him. On the way to Charlie’s, Ian offered to Don to talk about the case. About Crystal. And about the way she’d died. But Don said no. Ian recommended that he talk with somebody he trusted. Not with a therapist - because Ian didn’t trust those guys as far as he could throw them - but with somebody Don felt comfortable with. Don took note of Ian’s words silently. Ian saw the family’s home from the inside for the first time. It was composed of wood and leather, a very male place. But still, the female influence of Alan’s late wife was noticeable here and there. Cushions, blankets, pictures and ceramics, coloured accents which made the house alive. Ian didn’t know any details about the death of Don’s mother, he’d only heard from Terry that she’d been very ill. He could imagine what kind of a woman she must have been, though, because he knew her sons.

During the meal, Don was quiet and completely focused on his plate, while Charlie and Alan cast worried glances at him, and tried to maintain a conversation. After the meal Don glanced at Ian, before he looked at his father. “Can I talk to you, Dad?” Ian was glad that Don seemed to have the intention to talk with somebody. He wasn’t a professional sniper like Ian, who still had pangs of remorse after he’d taken a life. It was the last possible way for him. The last solution.

“I’ll do the dishes,” Charlie offered, even though he seemed to be hurt by Don’s intention to talk to Alan rather than him.

Ian nodded. “I’ll give you a hand.”

While Don and Alan were heading for the garden, Charlie filled the dishwasher in the kitchen and cleaned up the remains of the cooking. “Is he okay?” he asked after a glance through the window into the garden. Alan and Don couldn’t be seen from here - only a small pond was shimmering in the light of a garden lantern.

Ian shrugged. “He’s your brother. You should know,” he answered.

Charlie opened the refrigerator, fetching a beer. He turned around to face Ian and pushed the door of the refrigerator closed with his back, and then he offered the beer to Ian. “Sometimes I’m not sure.”

Ian tipped the bottle in Charlie’s direction with a questioning look. “Opener?” Charlie nodded and opened the drawer besides him. “How are you?” Ian asked cautiously.

Charlie stepped up to him and opened the bottle. Their fingers brushed and Ian saw Charlie glancing at him briefly. The professor shrugged. “Fine, I think.” He looked up at Ian now, his lips curling into a smile. Then he suddenly stood on the tips of his toes and pressed their lips together. Surprised, Ian took a step backwards. Charlie lost his balance, falling against him and Ian wrapped a steadying arm around his hips, then he broke the kiss. “Charlie,” he said firmly.

The mathematician turned away. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I … sorry.” He put the bottle-opener aside. Ian stepped behind him and put a hand on his neck. Charlie pulled up his shoulders, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“Talk to me,” Ian asked softly.

Charlie turned to face him and focused on a point over Ian’s shoulder as if he was unable to look into his eyes. “I’m not good with things like that. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Kiss me? Or reject me – a few months ago?”

Charlie sighed, staring at the floor in embarrassment. He crossed his arms. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay,” Ian said slowly. He took a sip of beer and put the bottle down on the counter. “Charlie,” he said softly, gripping the mathematician’s arms with both hands. When the younger man stubbornly refused to look up, Ian tipped up his chin and leant their foreheads together. “I’m not mad.” The professor’s dark eyes looked hesitantly into Ian’s. “I never wanted to force you to do something you didn’t want to do. I just don’t know what you want.”

“Maybe …” Charlie swallowed, averting his eyes. “I overreacted,” he said.


“No.” Charlie stepped away from Ian. “You just came on to me and kissed me and wanted to fuck me and -- it was just …” He swallowed. “I was right to be mad. Because I won’t let you use me.” Ian laughed. “What?” Charlie asked, irritated. “What?!”

Ian put his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’m not using you, okay? I just wanted some fun with a man who I think is …” He smiled and then approached Charlie, forcing him to lean back against the refrigerator. He dug a hand into Charlie’s hair, pressing their bodies together. His lips found Charlie’s temple and he brushed his nose through the dark curls, breathing in the smell of chalk and strawberry shampoo. He whispered into Charlie’s ear. “… who I think is sexy and cute. But only, if he wants me, too.” He dropped a kiss on Charlie’s lips. “The same hotel, room 389. I’ll lock up at midnight. Think about it.” He turned away and left the kitchen. On his way outside, he took his jacket from the wardrobe and waved to Don and Alan who were coming back in from the garden. “Thanks for dinner, Mr. Eppes.” In his car, on his way to the hotel, he smiled. And he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was really curious what Charlie would decide.


The knock came at half past eleven. Ian startled awake from a light sleep - sitting slumped back on the couch, too exhausted to follow the TV movie and too curious to go to bed - and rose to open the door. Charlie was standing there, his hands dug into his jacket pockets. He didn’t look at Ian but to the floor. “Say yes,” he asked softly.

Ian stifled a laugh, dragging him inside. He closed the door and pressed Charlie’s body up against it. “Always,” he answered and kissed him passionately.


Ian’s hand glided through Charlie’s sweaty hair and Charlie made a noise which sounded almost like a purr. He leant over Ian and seduced him into a slow, deep kiss which had Ian wrapping his legs around Charlie’s hips to pull him closer. Charlie tasted like sex and all the things a college professor shouldn’t taste like and Ian grinned in the kiss at the idea of surprising Charlie after a lesson and taking him in his office.

“Are you giving me a ride home?” Charlie interrupted the fantasy, “I came here with my bike.”

“Why?” Ian asked.

Charlie shrugged. “It’s warm outside. I love biking.”

“No. Why would you want to leave?”

Charlie smiled mischievously, his eyes sparkling. “Agent Edgerton, are you inviting me to stay for breakfast?”

Ian shrugged. “Self-interest,” he answered, “I’m pretty comfortable right now.” To prove his point, he embraced Charlie tighter. A hand glided down Charlie’s back to his ass.

Charlie closed his eyes, uttering the purr again, and Ian rolled them over to be able to look down at Charlie. “I thought you were tired,” Charlie said, but he lifted his hips to give Ian’s fingers better access.

Ian reached for the lube. “I think I can do it one more time.”


Ian didn’t know why he’d done it, but it was too late now. He wasn’t the kind of guy who called a one night stand, even when they had sex more than once. It was even hard for him to call his sister regularly. He pulled his cell phone out of his bag and found the newly saved number. The dial tone seemed to give him the chance to hang up, but he didn’t.


“Hey, Charlie!” he said, “I’m home.”

“You’re really calling me,” Charlie said, and Ian could hear a pleased grin in his voice.

“I promised,” he answered.

He wasn’t the kind of guy who broke promises.


On to Part 4
Not The Kind Of Guy Masterlist


( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
Mar. 3rd, 2010 10:11 am (UTC)
Interesting dynamics between the characters.
Mar. 3rd, 2010 03:18 pm (UTC)
Mar. 3rd, 2010 11:00 am (UTC)
I like where you're taking this and the small steps Ian and Charlie are taking.
Mar. 3rd, 2010 03:19 pm (UTC)
Thanks. I couldn't imagine Ian falling head over heels. He's too disciplined for that.
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )