Fic: North of the Border, Chapter 2 (Numb3rs, Charlie / Colby, Don / Martin, Tommy, David)
Title: North of the Border, Chapter 2
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pair: Charlie Eppes / Colby Granger,
Don Eppes / Martin Fridegord,
David Sinclair / Ian Edgerton
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Feedback: Always Welcome
NUMB3RS Main List
Prologue Chapter 1 (NC-17)
If it had happened few years before, Charlie would have jumped ten feet in the air and screamed as loud as he could.
Now he was quite used to the fact, that a tiny pair of hands might start yanking his jeans to get his attention. He looked down and, as expected, met a pair of big brown eyes.
“What is it, honey?”
The toddler yawned and clutched her stuffed giraffe.
“My kitty.” Megan had assured them that toddlers didn’t really understand the concept of sharing, and everything was "mine". Don and Martin’s cat had turned into "her kitty" ten minutes after they had left it to their care.
“Is daddy still asleep?”
A headfull of dark curls bounced, as the girl nodded seriously. Charlie put down his chalk and scooped up the squirming girl. Helen found a comfy spot on his hip and held on to her giraffe. Charlie walked out of the garage and straight into the living room, where Colby was still just the way he had been two hours earlier, when Charlie had left. Colby was stretched out on the couch, while a tiny cat lounged peacefully on his belly.
“Colby?”
The man didn’t even react, he just continued his soft snoring.
“Honey, maybe the kitty just doesn’t feel like playing right now.”
“Kitty and gitty.” Helen stated and held up her giraffe. Her vocabulary had been growing at increasing rate, but the word “giraffe” was a bit too challenging. “Wake up kitty.”
“Would you like it if I woke you up when you’re napping?”
Helen squeezed her stuffed animal against her chest, and pressed her lips together, looking like a stubborn puppy.
“Can’t you play with the gitty without the kitty?”
She nodded, but didn’t look too happy.
“Kitties are not toys.” Charlie reminded and brushed a few errand curls off her brow. “They’ll play with you when they feel like it, and now the kitty doesn’t feel like playing. Remember when you wanted to play with the kois in the pond?”
“Yeah.”
“And you remember how gitty got all wet and spent the rest of the day in the dryer?”
Helen nodded again, tightening her hold of the precious stuffed animal.
“The kois didn’t want to play, just like kitty doesn’t feel like playing. Maybe when they wake up, you can play with both kitty and daddy. But don`t go near the koi pond with gitty again, okay? Or kitty, cats don`t like water any more than gitty does.”
"Okay."
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“You know that steak place in L.A?” Don asked. He looked up over the edge of his menu and to his relief, Tommy seemed to have an equal amount of trouble reading his children’s menu. The sense of relief lasted until Don remembered how recently the boy had learned to read. “That place where I say everything on the list sounds so good you could get half-full just reading it.”
“Sure.” Martin looked up from his own menu. “Why?”
“I could die of starvation while trying to understand what this thing says.”
“French is a beautiful language, when it`s pronounced correctly. My old French teacher used to drill that into our heads every week.” He chuckled at the memory and pointed at the page Don had opened. “You’re reading the dessert section.”
“Oh…” Don went back a few pages. “Well, what do you recommend?”
“What are you in the mood for?”
“Something I can pronounce.” Don scanned through the list, trying to find something that would sound familiar. “What`s number twenty-three?”
“Twenty-three?” Martin gave him a funny look. “You wouldn’t like that.”
“What is it?”
“Cervelle de veau. Calf’s brain served with tongue, and sautéed with beurre noir and capers.” He turned to Tommy, who was still reading through his children’s menu. “Have you made up your mind?”
“Not yet.”
“No hurry.” He turned back to Don. “Tell me what you want and I’ll see if they have it.”
“No, I can handle this.” Don bit his lip and started reading again. “What’s the French word for a steak?”
“Une entrecôte .”
“Didn’t help much…” Don was getting seriously frustrated. “What about… number thirteen?”
“Boudin blanc de Rethel?” Martin gave Tommy a conspiratory grin. ”You want to enlighten uncle Don?”
”It’s pork meat sausage." Tommy explained and started giggling. "It`s made of pork, eggs and milk.”
Don’s mouth hanged open. ”How did you know that?”
“It’s right here.” Tommy handed him his own menu. “Right after the French name.”
“You had translations?”
“It’s the kiddie menu.” Martin laughed and waved his own grown up version. “We adults are left to fend for ourselves.”
“That was sneaky.” Don complained, but couldn’t stop looking at Martin and Tommy laughing. The similarities in features and colouring were something he had become used to, but sometimes it still surprised him. When looked carefully, they even shared a few mannerisms. “Okay, what are we eating?”
“What do you want?” Martin asked, rubbing few beads of moisture, brought by the fit of laughter, away from his eyes.
“You can order for me, but nothing with the tongue and skull still intact.”
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“You’re probably too busy to check your messages, so you’ll have three or four to listen when you have time.” David tried to keep his voice cheerful. “So… Call me when you got time. Bye.”
He hung up and let the phone slip from his fingers. It fell softly to the couch pillow. He leaned back, closing his eyes for a minute. The TV was bellowing in the background, but he hadn`t paid attention to it for a while.
Most of the floor was filled with Caroline’s school things. She had worked on her show and tell for her history class and when her friends and their parents arrived to pick her up for a sleepover, the half-finished presentation had been left in the middle of the floor. Somehow the creative process had taken too much space for her to work on it in her own room. When Ian was home, she never left her things laying around, but in his absence she had quickly gotten used to picking up after herself only when David told her to do it. David glared at the news clippings, sticky notes, and notebooks, but didn’t get up to collect them.
Instead he stepped over them, went to get a bag of potato chips from the cupboard and slumped back onto the couch. He ripped the bag open and clicked his way through the programs, till he found the porn channel.
David shoved a handful of chips into his mouth and his free hand down his pants.
TBC