Fic: Unstoppable, 19/? (Don/Charlie, NC-17)
Fic: Unstoppable, 19/?
Author: Neena
Rating: Mature'
Pairing: Don/Charlie
Warnings: incest, coerced sex, violence, suicide attempt
Alan was on the freeway, talking on his cell phone to David. He was driving far more recklessly than usual, but he was too frazzled to care. A car horn blared at him when he cut too close in front of another car, and that jolted Alan enough to make him concentrate harder on the road.
"So you'll keep me posted?" he asked. David assured him that he'd keep him updated on their search efforts and they hung up.
With no real idea where to begin looking on his own, Alan headed downtown towards the Federal Building. He figured the best way he could help was to be on hand in case they needed his input. Plus, if he was honest, he didn't entirely trust Don's team to stay on task - not when that Agent Jessop was still in charge.
When he showed up unannounced at Don's office, no one was really surprised to see him. David caught him as he was coming down the hallway to the bull pen and pulled him aside into an unused office.
"We've put out a BOLO for Don's SUV, and we've sent his description out to the LAPD. We'll find him," David said.
Alan nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
David hesitated before he spoke. "You could tell us what's going on? You said on the phone that he took off and that he might be in danger. What is it he's caught up in? Maybe that'll give us an idea where to start looking."
Alan knew he was asking David and the others to work with one hand tied behind their backs, but he couldn't tell them he thought his son was self-destructing. He'd promised to keep their secret, and it was a promise he intended to keep. If the FBI knew what kind of mental state Don was in right now, he'd never be allowed to return to active duty.
But what David said sparked an idea - he knew where Don's head was at - all he needed to do was put himself in his son's shoes. If he was planning on leaving, or worse, he'd probably want to go home first. Tie up a few loose ends, maybe. Possibly pack a few things. Or...if his worst fears were realised, Alan knew that most suicides took place at home. He hated himself for thinking it, but he also knew he'd be fooling himself if he didn't admit that's what Don's note implied he was going to do.
It seemed almost too simple, and he would probably come away empty-handed, but he had to look for him somewhere, and right now it was the only idea he had.
"Sorry, David, I've gotta go," he blurted and retraced his steps back to the elevator, barely acknowledging David's 'we'll keep you posted' with a wave of his hand.
The drive to Don's apartment building seemed to take forever. Had traffic always been this bad at this time of day? Alan was pretty sure fate was playing a cruel trick on him, bringing traffic to a crawl when he was in a desperate rush to get to his son.
After blatantly breaking a few traffic laws, Alan finally arrived outside Don's building. Looking up, he saw that there was scaffolding and plastic tarp snapping in the wind where the bomb had blasted a hole through the outside wall. Just that simple reminder of what happened here made Alan's stomach twist in knots, and he started to doubt that Don could ever voluntarily return here.
But he was here now, and he had to go in there whether he wanted to or not. Alan parked across the street and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other until he was inside.
Despite a week's passing, the lobby still smelled vaguely of smoke and there was a fine film of white dust over every surface. Alan was glad to see that the elevator was working, because he really never wanted to set foot in that stairwell again for as long as he lived. Just the thought of it brought him right back to the moment when he stood staring down at his two unconscious children, both of them covered in blood and looking for all the world like they were dead.
The elevator opened just as he was approaching it and a young woman exited, skirting around him like she was afraid he would attack. Not surprising, considering the news coverage that had followed the bombing. Everyone in the building was probably on high alert, knowing there'd been a serial killer amongst them only days before.
Don's name and photo had been splashed across the local and national news, but thankfully, Alan and Charlie had been spared the publicity, simply being referred to as ‘Agent Eppes' family’ in all the reports. Alan had a feeling he had Megan, David and Colby to thank for that.
Getting off on Don’s floor, Alan walked down the familiar hallway, now made unfamiliar by the thick coating of soot on the walls and ceiling and the damp plywood underfoot where the carpet had been taken up. The hole in the wall caused by the blast was now boarded up, and Don’s apartment door was criss-crossed with yellow crime scene tape. Upon closer inspection, it looked like it had been recently tampered with, and Alan felt a surge of hope.
He tested the lock, not surprised to find it locked. Thankfully his son had given him a key in case of emergencies - God knew, this counted as one. Alan ripped off the tape, not in the least bit concerned about contaminating an active crime scene when his son’s life could be at stake. He unlocked the door with trembling hands and pushed his way inside.
Don’s apartment was almost unrecognisable. The kitchen and living room were nothing but a blackened husk - the blue tarp covering the gaping hole in the outside wall lending the place an eerie, underwater quality. There was a sour-ash reek hanging in the air that got into his nose and would likely never leave. But the most disturbing thing of all was the eerie silence of the place. It wasn’t just empty - it felt hollowed out and barren, like it would never see joy again.
“Don? You in here?” he called out.
He didn’t hear anything in response, but a feeling niggled at the back of his head that Don was here and didn’t want him to know. He followed his gut instinct and headed towards Don’s bedroom.
The door was wide open, and sitting on the bed with his sidearm in his hand, was Don. His shoulders were slumped, his head hanging down as if he was contemplating the Glock held loosely in his lap.
"Don!" Alan's heart stuttered in his chest as he ran the short distance to his son's side. Snatching the gun out of Don's hand, he noted that the safety was off and the metal was warm from his son's grip. He set it down carefully, out of Don's reach.
"I couldn't do it," Don half-whispered. "I tried...but I just couldn't." Don's red-rimmed eyes peered up at him and Alan's chest tightened painfully, seeing the torment his son was going through.
"Don, no!" Alan wheezed through a throat tight with fear and grabbed Don by the shoulders, pulling him into a crushing hug.
At first Don didn't respond - just sat there, passively accepting Alan's embrace. But then he suddenly crumpled, sagging against him, his shoulders heaving with his silent sobs.
"It's okay, Donny, let it all out. Everything will be okay. Shh..." Alan rubbed wide, soothing circles over his son's back, speaking to him like he used to when he was a little boy, scared from whatever nightmare he'd woken up from.
They stayed that way for several long minutes, Don purging all the pent-up grief and pain he'd withheld since Weiss' attack. When he finally ran out of tears, Don let go of the death grip he'd had around Alan's waist and pulled away.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he said, wiping his face dry on his sleeve.
"There's no need to apologise," Alan argued. "If anyone should be apologising, it's me. I wasn't there for you like I should have been. I realise that now. It's just...you've always been so much stronger than me and Charlie - so much like your mom. I should have seen how much you were hurting.”
“How can you not hate me right now?” Don asked in a small voice.
“Son, I could never hate you. Not ever, do you hear me?” Alan responded, wrapping a protective arm around Don’s shoulder.
“I don’t think you’d say that if you knew the kinds of things that’ve been going through my head lately,” Don said, eyes studiously avoiding looking at Alan.
“Try me,” Alan replied, doing his best to sound convincing. “I promised that I wouldn’t let what happened tear our family apart, and I meant it.”
Don stared down at his empty hands and shook his head sadly. “What if I told you that Weiss was right? I’m in love with Charlie,” he stated bluntly, then shrank back a couple of inches when Alan withdrew his arm and hissed in a shocked breath.
He’d said it. He’d actually come right out and said it and now Alan couldn’t pretend ignorance anymore. The longing looks Don had been sending Charlie’s way, and the self-disgust that crossed his face afterwards - he’d seen it all and deliberately misunderstood.
The question was, where did they go from here? Could he really condone the kind of relationship Don was suggesting he wanted? It was about as far from the kind of future he’d wanted for his sons as it was possible to get. But he couldn’t erase the image in his mind of Don sitting alone in this room with a gun, ready to take his own life, and that was just unacceptable.
He knew that Don hadn’t chosen to feel this way, and in the end, Alan couldn’t fault him for it. All he could do was offer him his love and support and hope for the best.
Having made up his mind (and praying that he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life), Alan straightened his spine and bravely forged ahead.
“Well...that explains a few things,” Alan replied with a wry smile on his face.
Don looked up at him in disbelief.
“What? You think I’m blind?” Alan retorted. “I was there, remember? I saw the two of you together, and it was pretty obvious how you felt about Charlie. I guess...I was just hoping it was a heat-of-the-moment thing, you know?”
Don nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. “But it wasn't. And now you know why I…” Don’s voice trailed away as he glanced at the discarded weapon resting at the foot of the bed. “I thought it would help if I stayed away, but that only made it worse. Charlie is everything to me, Dad - when I think about a life without him in it...I can’t...I can’t breathe.”
“You really love him, don’t you?” Alan said - a statement more than a question, because he already knew the answer.
“More than anything. More than life itself,” Don replied earnestly, his weary gaze at last lifting up to meet Alan’s.
“And you would never do anything to hurt him?” Alan asked.
“I’d rather die; you know that,” Don said, his grim expression telling Alan that it wasn’t just an empty threat.
Alan nodded. “Then you should talk to him. Tell him what you told me.”
Don looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “You can’t be serious,” he said at last. When Alan’s only response was a quirked eyebrow, Don shook his head in amazement. “If I told him how I felt I’d lose him forever.”
“It’s a possibility,” Alan agreed, honestly. “But after the conversation I had with your brother this morning, I’m guessing you’re not entirely alone in your feelings.”
"Oh yeah?” Don asked, his eyes sparking with life for the first time in a week, “What'd he say?"
"Let's just say it's been quite the day for revelations," Alan replied cryptically. "Come on, let's get you home."
***
Don had never felt so emotionally drained in his life. Not even after his mom had died. The rollercoaster of emotions he'd been riding all week had finally derailed and if his dad hadn't been there to catch him, he might have actually ended up pulling the trigger.
The ride home was filled with the sound of his father's voice, keeping up a steady patter of one-sided small-talk. Don was still in shock over his dad's reaction to his confession. He didn't really know what to make of it - was he really okay with it? Or was he just saying what Don needed to hear to talk him off the ledge?
Not that it really mattered, he supposed. It wasn't like Charlie could ever accept or return his feelings. And even if he did, they could never act on those feelings. Could they?
Don's eyes slid over to his dad as the car turned into their driveway. His father was putting on a brave face because he was desperate to hold the family together, but if he and Charlie actually got together...
The engine shut off, plunging the car into silence, and Don realised his father was looking at him expectantly.
"What?" Don asked.
"Go on - talk to him. He's upstairs in his room. Or at least he was when I left."
"Aren't you coming in?" Don asked, feeling suddenly afraid to face Charlie on his own, which was ridiculous. After all, what was the worst that could happen? He'd already sunk as low as he could go - being rejected and shunned by his own brother couldn't make him feel any worse than he already felt.
"Nah. I've got some errands I need to run. Besides, I think this is something you really don't want your old man around for," Alan said. "Now go - Charlie needs to know you're okay."
A flash of guilt heated Don's cheeks - he just remembered the note he'd left for Charlie to find, and he could well imagine what reading it must have done to him. He nodded solemnly and climbed out of the car.
He waited until his father had driven away before taking his first heavy steps towards the front door. His hands were clammy and his feet felt like they were made of lead. Once inside, he had to force himself to climb the stairs when his gut was telling him he should turn around and run away. Run as fast and as far away as he could go and never return.
But Charlie was up there, thinking the worst and it wasn’t right to let him suffer like that. He needed to talk to him - tell him the truth, no matter how painful it might be. Charlie deserved that, at least.
The door to Charlie’s bedroom stood open and Don took a steadying breath before taking those last few steps. It felt like he was about to face a firing squad and he was terrified.
But when he finally caught sight of his brother, sitting so still on his bed with Don’s note gripped tightly in his hands, it tore at his heart. His fear dissipated on the spot and he instantly slipped into protective big brother mode.
“Charlie?” he said, ducking his head to try and catch his brother’s eye. When Charlie didn’t answer, Don took another couple of steps closer and squatted down in front of him so that he was at eye level with him.
“Charlie?” he tried again. Still he got no response, his brother still staring blankly down at the paper in his hands. “Charlie, it’s me. Can you hear me? Come on, Buddy, you’re scaring me here.”
Just when Don was about to shake him by the shoulder, Charlie at last looked up at him. His eyes took too long to focus - like he was coming back from some far off place in his mind. After a frighteningly long time, recognition finally dawned behind those dark brown eyes.
“Don?” he said, sounding so unsure of himself.
“Yeah, Charlie. It’s me. I’m here,” Don answered, relieved to hear his brother’s voice, having been worried that his stupid stunt had broken him where Weiss hadn’t been able to.
“I thought...I thought you were gone, and it was my fault. And then I couldn’t think at all. There was nothing. Even my numbers were gone. That’s never happened before.”
Charlie’s voice was eerily flat, and his face was pale and blank, and Don started to get worried again.
“Charlie, listen to me - I’m here, all right? I’m so sorry for scaring you. I swear I never wanted to hurt you,” Don said, placing his hand on Charlie’s cheek, feeling skin that was too cool and clammy and realising that his brother was in shock.
“You’re really here?” Charlie asked and placed his own hand over Don’s on his cheek. “Not dreaming?”
“No, Buddy - it’s really me.”
And then Don was knocked to his knees as Charlie threw himself into his arms. His brother wrapped him in a desperate, tight hug, and his words were almost lost, with his face buried in Don’s neck.
“Don’t ever do that to me again! Don’t you dare! I’ve never been so scared in my life!”
Don hugged him back just as fiercely, breathing in the warm scent of his brother’s hair and wishing he could be happy with just this. "I won't, I promise," he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of his brother's head.
Charlie pulled away abruptly, and Don worried that he'd overstepped his bounds. But Charlie's eyes flicked down to look at Don's mouth and when they returned to meet his eyes again, they were dark with need.
Don's heart lurched in his chest, but before he had time to build up to a full panic, Charlie's lips were on his, eager and demanding. Don's brain short-circuited and he moaned into the kiss, opening his mouth to let Charlie in.
Charlie's tongue played alongside his, mapping out every corner of his mouth, learning him all over again. Strong hands held his head in place, refusing to let him pull away - blunt fingers stroking through his short hair and gently dancing over the buzzed patch where he’d needed stitches.
Don knew he should put a stop to this before it went too far, but he couldn't seem to do it. Instead, he pulled Charlie in closer, until he could feel the fast thumping of his brother's heartbeat against his chest.
Eventually, though, it became necessary to breathe and Charlie ended the kiss, nipping at Don's lips before pulling back enough to look at him. Charlie's eyes were bright and he had the largest grin Don had ever seen on his face.
"Oh, thank God!" Charlie said, his hands still clasped around Don's neck. "I thought I was the only one!"
As Charlie peppered his face with tickling kisses, Don couldn't help smiling back.
Author: Neena
Rating: Mature'
Pairing: Don/Charlie
Warnings: incest, coerced sex, violence, suicide attempt
Alan was on the freeway, talking on his cell phone to David. He was driving far more recklessly than usual, but he was too frazzled to care. A car horn blared at him when he cut too close in front of another car, and that jolted Alan enough to make him concentrate harder on the road.
"So you'll keep me posted?" he asked. David assured him that he'd keep him updated on their search efforts and they hung up.
With no real idea where to begin looking on his own, Alan headed downtown towards the Federal Building. He figured the best way he could help was to be on hand in case they needed his input. Plus, if he was honest, he didn't entirely trust Don's team to stay on task - not when that Agent Jessop was still in charge.
When he showed up unannounced at Don's office, no one was really surprised to see him. David caught him as he was coming down the hallway to the bull pen and pulled him aside into an unused office.
"We've put out a BOLO for Don's SUV, and we've sent his description out to the LAPD. We'll find him," David said.
Alan nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
David hesitated before he spoke. "You could tell us what's going on? You said on the phone that he took off and that he might be in danger. What is it he's caught up in? Maybe that'll give us an idea where to start looking."
Alan knew he was asking David and the others to work with one hand tied behind their backs, but he couldn't tell them he thought his son was self-destructing. He'd promised to keep their secret, and it was a promise he intended to keep. If the FBI knew what kind of mental state Don was in right now, he'd never be allowed to return to active duty.
But what David said sparked an idea - he knew where Don's head was at - all he needed to do was put himself in his son's shoes. If he was planning on leaving, or worse, he'd probably want to go home first. Tie up a few loose ends, maybe. Possibly pack a few things. Or...if his worst fears were realised, Alan knew that most suicides took place at home. He hated himself for thinking it, but he also knew he'd be fooling himself if he didn't admit that's what Don's note implied he was going to do.
It seemed almost too simple, and he would probably come away empty-handed, but he had to look for him somewhere, and right now it was the only idea he had.
"Sorry, David, I've gotta go," he blurted and retraced his steps back to the elevator, barely acknowledging David's 'we'll keep you posted' with a wave of his hand.
The drive to Don's apartment building seemed to take forever. Had traffic always been this bad at this time of day? Alan was pretty sure fate was playing a cruel trick on him, bringing traffic to a crawl when he was in a desperate rush to get to his son.
After blatantly breaking a few traffic laws, Alan finally arrived outside Don's building. Looking up, he saw that there was scaffolding and plastic tarp snapping in the wind where the bomb had blasted a hole through the outside wall. Just that simple reminder of what happened here made Alan's stomach twist in knots, and he started to doubt that Don could ever voluntarily return here.
But he was here now, and he had to go in there whether he wanted to or not. Alan parked across the street and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other until he was inside.
Despite a week's passing, the lobby still smelled vaguely of smoke and there was a fine film of white dust over every surface. Alan was glad to see that the elevator was working, because he really never wanted to set foot in that stairwell again for as long as he lived. Just the thought of it brought him right back to the moment when he stood staring down at his two unconscious children, both of them covered in blood and looking for all the world like they were dead.
The elevator opened just as he was approaching it and a young woman exited, skirting around him like she was afraid he would attack. Not surprising, considering the news coverage that had followed the bombing. Everyone in the building was probably on high alert, knowing there'd been a serial killer amongst them only days before.
Don's name and photo had been splashed across the local and national news, but thankfully, Alan and Charlie had been spared the publicity, simply being referred to as ‘Agent Eppes' family’ in all the reports. Alan had a feeling he had Megan, David and Colby to thank for that.
Getting off on Don’s floor, Alan walked down the familiar hallway, now made unfamiliar by the thick coating of soot on the walls and ceiling and the damp plywood underfoot where the carpet had been taken up. The hole in the wall caused by the blast was now boarded up, and Don’s apartment door was criss-crossed with yellow crime scene tape. Upon closer inspection, it looked like it had been recently tampered with, and Alan felt a surge of hope.
He tested the lock, not surprised to find it locked. Thankfully his son had given him a key in case of emergencies - God knew, this counted as one. Alan ripped off the tape, not in the least bit concerned about contaminating an active crime scene when his son’s life could be at stake. He unlocked the door with trembling hands and pushed his way inside.
Don’s apartment was almost unrecognisable. The kitchen and living room were nothing but a blackened husk - the blue tarp covering the gaping hole in the outside wall lending the place an eerie, underwater quality. There was a sour-ash reek hanging in the air that got into his nose and would likely never leave. But the most disturbing thing of all was the eerie silence of the place. It wasn’t just empty - it felt hollowed out and barren, like it would never see joy again.
“Don? You in here?” he called out.
He didn’t hear anything in response, but a feeling niggled at the back of his head that Don was here and didn’t want him to know. He followed his gut instinct and headed towards Don’s bedroom.
The door was wide open, and sitting on the bed with his sidearm in his hand, was Don. His shoulders were slumped, his head hanging down as if he was contemplating the Glock held loosely in his lap.
"Don!" Alan's heart stuttered in his chest as he ran the short distance to his son's side. Snatching the gun out of Don's hand, he noted that the safety was off and the metal was warm from his son's grip. He set it down carefully, out of Don's reach.
"I couldn't do it," Don half-whispered. "I tried...but I just couldn't." Don's red-rimmed eyes peered up at him and Alan's chest tightened painfully, seeing the torment his son was going through.
"Don, no!" Alan wheezed through a throat tight with fear and grabbed Don by the shoulders, pulling him into a crushing hug.
At first Don didn't respond - just sat there, passively accepting Alan's embrace. But then he suddenly crumpled, sagging against him, his shoulders heaving with his silent sobs.
"It's okay, Donny, let it all out. Everything will be okay. Shh..." Alan rubbed wide, soothing circles over his son's back, speaking to him like he used to when he was a little boy, scared from whatever nightmare he'd woken up from.
They stayed that way for several long minutes, Don purging all the pent-up grief and pain he'd withheld since Weiss' attack. When he finally ran out of tears, Don let go of the death grip he'd had around Alan's waist and pulled away.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he said, wiping his face dry on his sleeve.
"There's no need to apologise," Alan argued. "If anyone should be apologising, it's me. I wasn't there for you like I should have been. I realise that now. It's just...you've always been so much stronger than me and Charlie - so much like your mom. I should have seen how much you were hurting.”
“How can you not hate me right now?” Don asked in a small voice.
“Son, I could never hate you. Not ever, do you hear me?” Alan responded, wrapping a protective arm around Don’s shoulder.
“I don’t think you’d say that if you knew the kinds of things that’ve been going through my head lately,” Don said, eyes studiously avoiding looking at Alan.
“Try me,” Alan replied, doing his best to sound convincing. “I promised that I wouldn’t let what happened tear our family apart, and I meant it.”
Don stared down at his empty hands and shook his head sadly. “What if I told you that Weiss was right? I’m in love with Charlie,” he stated bluntly, then shrank back a couple of inches when Alan withdrew his arm and hissed in a shocked breath.
He’d said it. He’d actually come right out and said it and now Alan couldn’t pretend ignorance anymore. The longing looks Don had been sending Charlie’s way, and the self-disgust that crossed his face afterwards - he’d seen it all and deliberately misunderstood.
The question was, where did they go from here? Could he really condone the kind of relationship Don was suggesting he wanted? It was about as far from the kind of future he’d wanted for his sons as it was possible to get. But he couldn’t erase the image in his mind of Don sitting alone in this room with a gun, ready to take his own life, and that was just unacceptable.
He knew that Don hadn’t chosen to feel this way, and in the end, Alan couldn’t fault him for it. All he could do was offer him his love and support and hope for the best.
Having made up his mind (and praying that he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life), Alan straightened his spine and bravely forged ahead.
“Well...that explains a few things,” Alan replied with a wry smile on his face.
Don looked up at him in disbelief.
“What? You think I’m blind?” Alan retorted. “I was there, remember? I saw the two of you together, and it was pretty obvious how you felt about Charlie. I guess...I was just hoping it was a heat-of-the-moment thing, you know?”
Don nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. “But it wasn't. And now you know why I…” Don’s voice trailed away as he glanced at the discarded weapon resting at the foot of the bed. “I thought it would help if I stayed away, but that only made it worse. Charlie is everything to me, Dad - when I think about a life without him in it...I can’t...I can’t breathe.”
“You really love him, don’t you?” Alan said - a statement more than a question, because he already knew the answer.
“More than anything. More than life itself,” Don replied earnestly, his weary gaze at last lifting up to meet Alan’s.
“And you would never do anything to hurt him?” Alan asked.
“I’d rather die; you know that,” Don said, his grim expression telling Alan that it wasn’t just an empty threat.
Alan nodded. “Then you should talk to him. Tell him what you told me.”
Don looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “You can’t be serious,” he said at last. When Alan’s only response was a quirked eyebrow, Don shook his head in amazement. “If I told him how I felt I’d lose him forever.”
“It’s a possibility,” Alan agreed, honestly. “But after the conversation I had with your brother this morning, I’m guessing you’re not entirely alone in your feelings.”
"Oh yeah?” Don asked, his eyes sparking with life for the first time in a week, “What'd he say?"
"Let's just say it's been quite the day for revelations," Alan replied cryptically. "Come on, let's get you home."
***
Don had never felt so emotionally drained in his life. Not even after his mom had died. The rollercoaster of emotions he'd been riding all week had finally derailed and if his dad hadn't been there to catch him, he might have actually ended up pulling the trigger.
The ride home was filled with the sound of his father's voice, keeping up a steady patter of one-sided small-talk. Don was still in shock over his dad's reaction to his confession. He didn't really know what to make of it - was he really okay with it? Or was he just saying what Don needed to hear to talk him off the ledge?
Not that it really mattered, he supposed. It wasn't like Charlie could ever accept or return his feelings. And even if he did, they could never act on those feelings. Could they?
Don's eyes slid over to his dad as the car turned into their driveway. His father was putting on a brave face because he was desperate to hold the family together, but if he and Charlie actually got together...
The engine shut off, plunging the car into silence, and Don realised his father was looking at him expectantly.
"What?" Don asked.
"Go on - talk to him. He's upstairs in his room. Or at least he was when I left."
"Aren't you coming in?" Don asked, feeling suddenly afraid to face Charlie on his own, which was ridiculous. After all, what was the worst that could happen? He'd already sunk as low as he could go - being rejected and shunned by his own brother couldn't make him feel any worse than he already felt.
"Nah. I've got some errands I need to run. Besides, I think this is something you really don't want your old man around for," Alan said. "Now go - Charlie needs to know you're okay."
A flash of guilt heated Don's cheeks - he just remembered the note he'd left for Charlie to find, and he could well imagine what reading it must have done to him. He nodded solemnly and climbed out of the car.
He waited until his father had driven away before taking his first heavy steps towards the front door. His hands were clammy and his feet felt like they were made of lead. Once inside, he had to force himself to climb the stairs when his gut was telling him he should turn around and run away. Run as fast and as far away as he could go and never return.
But Charlie was up there, thinking the worst and it wasn’t right to let him suffer like that. He needed to talk to him - tell him the truth, no matter how painful it might be. Charlie deserved that, at least.
The door to Charlie’s bedroom stood open and Don took a steadying breath before taking those last few steps. It felt like he was about to face a firing squad and he was terrified.
But when he finally caught sight of his brother, sitting so still on his bed with Don’s note gripped tightly in his hands, it tore at his heart. His fear dissipated on the spot and he instantly slipped into protective big brother mode.
“Charlie?” he said, ducking his head to try and catch his brother’s eye. When Charlie didn’t answer, Don took another couple of steps closer and squatted down in front of him so that he was at eye level with him.
“Charlie?” he tried again. Still he got no response, his brother still staring blankly down at the paper in his hands. “Charlie, it’s me. Can you hear me? Come on, Buddy, you’re scaring me here.”
Just when Don was about to shake him by the shoulder, Charlie at last looked up at him. His eyes took too long to focus - like he was coming back from some far off place in his mind. After a frighteningly long time, recognition finally dawned behind those dark brown eyes.
“Don?” he said, sounding so unsure of himself.
“Yeah, Charlie. It’s me. I’m here,” Don answered, relieved to hear his brother’s voice, having been worried that his stupid stunt had broken him where Weiss hadn’t been able to.
“I thought...I thought you were gone, and it was my fault. And then I couldn’t think at all. There was nothing. Even my numbers were gone. That’s never happened before.”
Charlie’s voice was eerily flat, and his face was pale and blank, and Don started to get worried again.
“Charlie, listen to me - I’m here, all right? I’m so sorry for scaring you. I swear I never wanted to hurt you,” Don said, placing his hand on Charlie’s cheek, feeling skin that was too cool and clammy and realising that his brother was in shock.
“You’re really here?” Charlie asked and placed his own hand over Don’s on his cheek. “Not dreaming?”
“No, Buddy - it’s really me.”
And then Don was knocked to his knees as Charlie threw himself into his arms. His brother wrapped him in a desperate, tight hug, and his words were almost lost, with his face buried in Don’s neck.
“Don’t ever do that to me again! Don’t you dare! I’ve never been so scared in my life!”
Don hugged him back just as fiercely, breathing in the warm scent of his brother’s hair and wishing he could be happy with just this. "I won't, I promise," he said, planting a soft kiss on the top of his brother's head.
Charlie pulled away abruptly, and Don worried that he'd overstepped his bounds. But Charlie's eyes flicked down to look at Don's mouth and when they returned to meet his eyes again, they were dark with need.
Don's heart lurched in his chest, but before he had time to build up to a full panic, Charlie's lips were on his, eager and demanding. Don's brain short-circuited and he moaned into the kiss, opening his mouth to let Charlie in.
Charlie's tongue played alongside his, mapping out every corner of his mouth, learning him all over again. Strong hands held his head in place, refusing to let him pull away - blunt fingers stroking through his short hair and gently dancing over the buzzed patch where he’d needed stitches.
Don knew he should put a stop to this before it went too far, but he couldn't seem to do it. Instead, he pulled Charlie in closer, until he could feel the fast thumping of his brother's heartbeat against his chest.
Eventually, though, it became necessary to breathe and Charlie ended the kiss, nipping at Don's lips before pulling back enough to look at him. Charlie's eyes were bright and he had the largest grin Don had ever seen on his face.
"Oh, thank God!" Charlie said, his hands still clasped around Don's neck. "I thought I was the only one!"
As Charlie peppered his face with tickling kisses, Don couldn't help smiling back.