Numb3rs Fic: Bound, Liz/Don, PG
Bound, rated PG for some kisses, and written for the N3 Kink Meme. Haha, only saw it was closed 3/15/10 after the second fic I posted for it. Whoops. Anyway, here's the first one I did.
Liz/Don, mention of Robin/Don.
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Liz pauses from writing in the small notepad in her hand to watch a dark SUV pull in and park roughly next to the yellow crime scene tape. She turns back to the witness she's interviewing, but a glimpse of Don climbing down from the driver's seat makes her do a double take.
"That one dude, he had on a hoodie, maybe a black one? Dunno, it was too dark...hey, lady, you listening?" She snaps her head back to where it should be, focusing on the mostly worthless statement.
"A dark hooded sweatshirt, possibly black, yeah I got that. Listen, write down your name and your phone number here so I can reach you if I have any other questions, okay?" As she's waiting for the man to finish jotting down his info, she scans the scene until she sees Colby talking to Don in the far corner of the parking lot. She cranes her neck to get a better look at Don, but Colby's broad frame hides him from her view.
"...and that's all we've got. Liz knows more, I just got here ten minutes ago myself. You look nice, man, we interrupt a date or something?" She barely hears the end of Colby's report, and doesn't quite catch Don's reply. Don finally sees her, and claps the other man on the shoulder before moving towards her.
"Here, done." Liz's witness pushes the pad back to her, and she thanks him perfunctorily, walking to meet Don halfway. Face to face, she sees what she thought she saw when he got out of the car; she disguises the electric thrill going down her back with a shrug and a headshake.
"Hey. Before you ask, we've got nothing solid so far, just an unidentifiable man of average height and build running from the scene. This vic definitely fits our guy's M.O., though." She carefully keeps her eyes on Don's face.
"Yeah, yeah, okay, that's what Colby told me. This one's gonna be tough, but my gut tells me we'll find something this time." He's looking off into the distance, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and loosening his tie with the other.
She cautiously glances around, and is satisfied that all the techs and agents are preoccupied and not focused on her or Don. Before she has time to think about what she's doing, she reaches up fast and grabs hold of Don's tie ('that damn tie!' she thinks) with a firm hold, but is careful not to wrinkle the expensive material.
In his surprise, Don whips around to face her, shock evident in his dark eyes. "Liz, what..."
She smothers his mouth with her own, and the both of them feel the intensity of the moment crushed between their slightly parted lips. The fact that she can smell Robin's flowery perfume on his jaw doesn't bother her. She knows that her own tropical scent is strong enough to overpower Robin's. The thought sadistically comforts her that she'll be the last thing he smells before he sleeps tonight; that is, if he doesn't go back home to her.
Thoughts of Robin shock Liz back to reality, and as quickly as it happened, she lets go and moves back, looking around to make sure no one had seen what she just did.
When she looks back at him, he's dumbstruck, but anger is starting to creep into the lines on his face. For some reason, his slow-reacting temper ignites her own, and the apology dies on her lips in a hiss.
"Tell me you didn't just wear MY tie on a night out with Robin! Tell me you didn't just open the damn box, take that tie out and put it around your neck, knowing that I gave it to you on your birthday last year. Tell. Me. You didn't." She's furious and at the same time appalled at her own unbridled show of possessiveness.
The whispered outburst stops the expression of anger across his face in its tracks. "Liz, what..."
She thinks she's done, but his inability to answer her rhetorical demands for an explanation only serves to stoke her rage. Rage, she supposes, that has been building in the pit of her gut, gone unnoticed these long months.
Both her hands now shoot out to grip the length of silk she once so lovingly chose for him. She's so incredibly incensed that she says nothing, lest she say everything that she ever buried in the back of her mind. Her hands now fisted in his tie ('MY tie, dammit!' she thinks), she wonders briefly if she really intends to--
"Liz, Don, I might...uh...uhm..." Colby's appearance, though largely unwelcome, is timely enough to save Liz from embarassing herself further. Colby's looking up from the notes he was reading on his short walk over to the pair of agents, and he's looking at...well, he's not quite sure what he's looking at, so he waits for some context before he misinterprets the image.
Faint, nervous laughter from Liz. Some suspicious throat clearing from Don. Slowly she uncurls her fingers from around his tie and lets her hands drop to her sides.
"Some old habits die hard. It's been awhile since you've worn a tie to work, my hands just automatically went to fix it for you." This, directed at Don, but she's looking at the world's most interesting pebble as if it held answers to her strange and wildly inappropriate behavior tonight.
More throat clearing. "You surprised the hell out of me, but I understand. It's been a long day for all of us, what say we just pick this back up in the morning?" His statement goes from slow and unsure to more certain and boss-like, and he's sounding like Special Agent Don Eppes by the end of it.
Satisfied with the explanation, Colby nods and grins. "I can get behind that, see you guys tomorrow." There's a slight bounce to his step that tells either of an eagerness to leave the awkwardness behind, or an eagerness to get home. Either way, he's gone, and after a moment's hesitation, Liz and Don part ways without a word.
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She's driving on autopilot, something she almost never does, hating not being in control. There're so many things swirling around her head that she can't even snag one thought to distinguish it from the rest. Emotions wash over her in rapid succession, so palpable that she's almost forced to pull over more than once. She's afraid however, that if she does, she might not be able to start up again and get back on the road.
Home. Liz doesn't know when or how she got there legally and in one piece, but she's in the door and dropping her keys on the table in the hall. Before she can take another step, however, there's a knock, knock, knock on the door behind her.
Instantly alert, she puts a hand to her holster, but relaxes when she hears his familiar voice muffled by the wood.
"Open up. We need to talk."
The irony is not lost on her, and she almost wants to make a crack along the lines that if months of being broken up and a possessive moment of insanity was all it took to get him to want to talk, she'd have done it at least once long before now.
Without a word, she opens the door and beckons Don in, not bothering to look through the peephole, knowing all she'd be able to see was that stupid red tie.
The drive over from the scene to her house must have been therapeutic in some way for him because Don is completely different. He's looking her straight in the eye, his posture is confident, and he opens his mouth as if to give some speech that she knows is rehearsed.
The tables are turned, however, and instead of speaking, he closes the distance, and his eyes, before his mouth descends on her. She flinches at first, expecting roughness and the heat of retaliation, but she feels none of that. Instead, it's all tenderness, in the circle of his arms as he holds her, in his lips that are softer than she remembers, and in his tongue that flicks lightly against her own.
It's over when they come up for breath, panting together against each other's necks. He's still holding her in his arms when he says,
"I'm sorry, Liz."
There's so much in those three words, so much that she's been wanting to hear, and the closure is so overwhelming that three words that are supposed to make her sad instead make her happier than if he'd told her he loved her.
She doesn't realize she's crying until the motion of him pulling back stirs up a breeze that cools the tears on her cheeks.
She also doesn't realize that all this time, she's been holding onto that wretched tie of his/hers/theirs. She starts to let go, but he wraps one big hand around both of hers, and his other hand lifts the noose of silk around his neck to place it instead around her own.
She blinks out the last of her tears as he steps back, feeling the soft material that's now around her neck. She blinks some more, feeling just as dimwitted as Don looked earlier, out on the scene, and is a little bit startled when he speaks again.
"I'll see you at eight A.M. tomorrow. I need you on this one, I need you there, okay?"
Dumbly she nods, and he turns to walk out, but he's stilled by her words, so soft, he has to turn his head slightly to hear.
"I'll be there."
She thinks she sees a smile on the corner of hi mouth, but he's gone and she's leaning against the door she's shut behind him. She takes a deep breath for the first time that night, fingers playing over her tie ('stupid, stupid tie.'), feeling a weight lift off her shoulders that she didn't even know was there.
Liz can't tell how long she's been standing there, but she feels the strength return to her, and her voice is steady as she repeats to the open air:
"I'll be there."
Liz/Don, mention of Robin/Don.
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Liz pauses from writing in the small notepad in her hand to watch a dark SUV pull in and park roughly next to the yellow crime scene tape. She turns back to the witness she's interviewing, but a glimpse of Don climbing down from the driver's seat makes her do a double take.
"That one dude, he had on a hoodie, maybe a black one? Dunno, it was too dark...hey, lady, you listening?" She snaps her head back to where it should be, focusing on the mostly worthless statement.
"A dark hooded sweatshirt, possibly black, yeah I got that. Listen, write down your name and your phone number here so I can reach you if I have any other questions, okay?" As she's waiting for the man to finish jotting down his info, she scans the scene until she sees Colby talking to Don in the far corner of the parking lot. She cranes her neck to get a better look at Don, but Colby's broad frame hides him from her view.
"...and that's all we've got. Liz knows more, I just got here ten minutes ago myself. You look nice, man, we interrupt a date or something?" She barely hears the end of Colby's report, and doesn't quite catch Don's reply. Don finally sees her, and claps the other man on the shoulder before moving towards her.
"Here, done." Liz's witness pushes the pad back to her, and she thanks him perfunctorily, walking to meet Don halfway. Face to face, she sees what she thought she saw when he got out of the car; she disguises the electric thrill going down her back with a shrug and a headshake.
"Hey. Before you ask, we've got nothing solid so far, just an unidentifiable man of average height and build running from the scene. This vic definitely fits our guy's M.O., though." She carefully keeps her eyes on Don's face.
"Yeah, yeah, okay, that's what Colby told me. This one's gonna be tough, but my gut tells me we'll find something this time." He's looking off into the distance, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and loosening his tie with the other.
She cautiously glances around, and is satisfied that all the techs and agents are preoccupied and not focused on her or Don. Before she has time to think about what she's doing, she reaches up fast and grabs hold of Don's tie ('that damn tie!' she thinks) with a firm hold, but is careful not to wrinkle the expensive material.
In his surprise, Don whips around to face her, shock evident in his dark eyes. "Liz, what..."
She smothers his mouth with her own, and the both of them feel the intensity of the moment crushed between their slightly parted lips. The fact that she can smell Robin's flowery perfume on his jaw doesn't bother her. She knows that her own tropical scent is strong enough to overpower Robin's. The thought sadistically comforts her that she'll be the last thing he smells before he sleeps tonight; that is, if he doesn't go back home to her.
Thoughts of Robin shock Liz back to reality, and as quickly as it happened, she lets go and moves back, looking around to make sure no one had seen what she just did.
When she looks back at him, he's dumbstruck, but anger is starting to creep into the lines on his face. For some reason, his slow-reacting temper ignites her own, and the apology dies on her lips in a hiss.
"Tell me you didn't just wear MY tie on a night out with Robin! Tell me you didn't just open the damn box, take that tie out and put it around your neck, knowing that I gave it to you on your birthday last year. Tell. Me. You didn't." She's furious and at the same time appalled at her own unbridled show of possessiveness.
The whispered outburst stops the expression of anger across his face in its tracks. "Liz, what..."
She thinks she's done, but his inability to answer her rhetorical demands for an explanation only serves to stoke her rage. Rage, she supposes, that has been building in the pit of her gut, gone unnoticed these long months.
Both her hands now shoot out to grip the length of silk she once so lovingly chose for him. She's so incredibly incensed that she says nothing, lest she say everything that she ever buried in the back of her mind. Her hands now fisted in his tie ('MY tie, dammit!' she thinks), she wonders briefly if she really intends to--
"Liz, Don, I might...uh...uhm..." Colby's appearance, though largely unwelcome, is timely enough to save Liz from embarassing herself further. Colby's looking up from the notes he was reading on his short walk over to the pair of agents, and he's looking at...well, he's not quite sure what he's looking at, so he waits for some context before he misinterprets the image.
Faint, nervous laughter from Liz. Some suspicious throat clearing from Don. Slowly she uncurls her fingers from around his tie and lets her hands drop to her sides.
"Some old habits die hard. It's been awhile since you've worn a tie to work, my hands just automatically went to fix it for you." This, directed at Don, but she's looking at the world's most interesting pebble as if it held answers to her strange and wildly inappropriate behavior tonight.
More throat clearing. "You surprised the hell out of me, but I understand. It's been a long day for all of us, what say we just pick this back up in the morning?" His statement goes from slow and unsure to more certain and boss-like, and he's sounding like Special Agent Don Eppes by the end of it.
Satisfied with the explanation, Colby nods and grins. "I can get behind that, see you guys tomorrow." There's a slight bounce to his step that tells either of an eagerness to leave the awkwardness behind, or an eagerness to get home. Either way, he's gone, and after a moment's hesitation, Liz and Don part ways without a word.
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She's driving on autopilot, something she almost never does, hating not being in control. There're so many things swirling around her head that she can't even snag one thought to distinguish it from the rest. Emotions wash over her in rapid succession, so palpable that she's almost forced to pull over more than once. She's afraid however, that if she does, she might not be able to start up again and get back on the road.
Home. Liz doesn't know when or how she got there legally and in one piece, but she's in the door and dropping her keys on the table in the hall. Before she can take another step, however, there's a knock, knock, knock on the door behind her.
Instantly alert, she puts a hand to her holster, but relaxes when she hears his familiar voice muffled by the wood.
"Open up. We need to talk."
The irony is not lost on her, and she almost wants to make a crack along the lines that if months of being broken up and a possessive moment of insanity was all it took to get him to want to talk, she'd have done it at least once long before now.
Without a word, she opens the door and beckons Don in, not bothering to look through the peephole, knowing all she'd be able to see was that stupid red tie.
The drive over from the scene to her house must have been therapeutic in some way for him because Don is completely different. He's looking her straight in the eye, his posture is confident, and he opens his mouth as if to give some speech that she knows is rehearsed.
The tables are turned, however, and instead of speaking, he closes the distance, and his eyes, before his mouth descends on her. She flinches at first, expecting roughness and the heat of retaliation, but she feels none of that. Instead, it's all tenderness, in the circle of his arms as he holds her, in his lips that are softer than she remembers, and in his tongue that flicks lightly against her own.
It's over when they come up for breath, panting together against each other's necks. He's still holding her in his arms when he says,
"I'm sorry, Liz."
There's so much in those three words, so much that she's been wanting to hear, and the closure is so overwhelming that three words that are supposed to make her sad instead make her happier than if he'd told her he loved her.
She doesn't realize she's crying until the motion of him pulling back stirs up a breeze that cools the tears on her cheeks.
She also doesn't realize that all this time, she's been holding onto that wretched tie of his/hers/theirs. She starts to let go, but he wraps one big hand around both of hers, and his other hand lifts the noose of silk around his neck to place it instead around her own.
She blinks out the last of her tears as he steps back, feeling the soft material that's now around her neck. She blinks some more, feeling just as dimwitted as Don looked earlier, out on the scene, and is a little bit startled when he speaks again.
"I'll see you at eight A.M. tomorrow. I need you on this one, I need you there, okay?"
Dumbly she nods, and he turns to walk out, but he's stilled by her words, so soft, he has to turn his head slightly to hear.
"I'll be there."
She thinks she sees a smile on the corner of hi mouth, but he's gone and she's leaning against the door she's shut behind him. She takes a deep breath for the first time that night, fingers playing over her tie ('stupid, stupid tie.'), feeling a weight lift off her shoulders that she didn't even know was there.
Liz can't tell how long she's been standing there, but she feels the strength return to her, and her voice is steady as she repeats to the open air:
"I'll be there."