musicalluna: (Default)
musicalluna ([personal profile] musicalluna) wrote2009-12-03 01:13 am

Purpose

Okay, so I haven't exactly finished posting all of my already "finished" stuff from Psychfic and Fanfiction.net, but there's like a bajillion more things to go and I wrote this thing tonight and, well, dagnabbit, this is the perfect occasion to start using this journal as I have been planning, History completed or no.

I give you:

random Numb3rs fic.

Title: No, Srsly, That Hurt
Fandom: Numb3rs
Author: MusicalLuna
Rating: eT
Characters/Pairings: Charlie, Don
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: None
Complete: Yes
Summary: I like to hurt Charlie. Especially when he goes all flaily. And then Don goes all grabby.
A/N: Purely because I needed to get out this urge I've been having to see the red of blood against Charlie's pretty skin color and the need to write him all flaily discombobulated. :D
Disclaimer: I would like to have a part of Charlie. But lesigh.

“CHARLIE!”

The gun in the John's hand flew out, slamming into the side of Charlie's face and he spun sideways from the impact, long curls flying out like a skirt around his head before he dropped, sprawling on the pavement. Before anyone else had even turned, the John had disappeared into a nearby alley and Don's focus was on Charlie and Charlie alone.

He hit his knees so hard it felt like he'd broken them both, but he ignored the fierce lances of pain, wrapping a hand around the back of Charlie's neck and yanking him up off of the ground. Charlie's arms flew out trying to compensate for the sudden change, his legs skidding away, akimbo. His eyes were wide, eyelids fluttering dazedly. “Don—”

“Jesus, Charlie!” Don barked, his other hand coming up to cup Charlie's jaw so that he could turn his face and get a better look at the split in the skin near the corner of his right eye. The area around it was already reddening and starting to swell—it was going to be a hell of a black eye when it got through. “Are you all right?” he demanded, gaze reverting back to Charlie's, checking his pupils, making mental notes of the bewildered look on his face and the feeling of his pulse against his palm.

“That really hurts,” Charlie said, fingers hovering above where bright red blood was oozing down the pale curve of his cheek. He seemed a little paler than usual, but it was hard to tell.

“Yeah,” Don said, leaning back and shifting the hand on Charlie's neck to his shoulder. “Getting whammed in the face with a gun usually does.”

“No, I mean, ow.” His eyes came up, meeting Don's, eyebrows rising. “Do you think he broke my cheekbone?”

Don let out a huff of mirthless laughter. “I doubt it, Buddy, but you can bet your ass we're going to get you checked out. Are you dizzy or anything?”

No, just... Wow. I can't believe how much that hurts.” The bewilderment in his voice would have been funny in any other situation but this; now it was only cause for further worry. His face was beginning to squinch up, lines drawing themselves between his eyebrows and into his forehead. “He came out of nowhere.” Okay, that was more like it.

Sufficiently reassured that there wasn't anything direly wrong with Charlie—at least not right now—Don's concern faded to the background. “What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded. “What have I told you about wandering off on your own?”

Charlie blinked. “I-I was just trying to get a better angle on the apartment, I didn't think I'd gone that far—” He broke off and shame washed over his face. “I-I'm sorry.”

Don heaved a sigh, slipping his hand into Charlie's curly mop and giving it a gentle ruffle. “Yeah. Just—pay attention next time, okay? You're lucky that guy just whacked you one. Coulda been much worse.”

Charlie grimaced, the bruised eye starting to squint. “You call this lucky?”


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