#agent don eppes

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Broken Street Lamp

Don Eppes x Reader

Words: 4128

Summary: When she’s mugged walking at night from work, the reader tries to hide the attack from her fiance and his family. 

Notes: This show just snuck up on me and now I’m in love. And not even with the character I thought I’d be. (Don’t get me wrong, I adore Charlie) But what can I say? I have a thing for protective and emotionally complicated older brothers. Let me know if there are any other Don Eppes fans out there because I’d love to know what you think! 

Warnings: Assault, robbery, hurt and comfort plot

More Crime Drama Imagines Here

-

When the mechanic called to tell you that your car wouldn’t be ready until next week, you didn’t think much of it. You could take the train with the rest of the five o’clock crowd. But when your boss gave you a new assignment at the last minute, five turned into five-thirty. Five-thirty turned to seven. Seven became ten. Suddenly, walking the six blocks to the subway station didn’t seem like such a good idea. You could practically hear your fiance fretting over you walking alone at night, so you called him in the hopes of having him pick you up. But at the sound of his voicemail, you realized you were being ridiculous. 

Don’s paranoia was rubbing off on you. 

You gathered up the last of your work and turned off your desk lamp, casting the already darkened office into an inky black. Your eyes adjusted with the help of the street lights peeking through the blinds and you made it to the elevator with minimal bumps into desk corners. The elevator was being repaired, which meant climbing down four flights in the stuffy stairwell. Stepping into the LA night wasn’t much better.  

The building your firm worked in was on a quieter street than most at this time of night. Maybe it should have been calming after the chaos of your case, but instead, it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You shivered despite the heat and started walking. 

Usually, this area was well-lit, but a block down, a street lamp flickered on and off, giving the path an eerie quality. You thought about switching to the other side of the street, but the stubborn logical part of your brain refused to give in to the irrational fear. 

You should have switched sides. 

Keeping your hand on your cell, almost praying for Don to call you back, you kept walking, getting nearer and nearer to the flashing light. Just before you passed beneath it, it turned off. 

Plunged in a few yards of darkness, you took a few faster steps to return to the light, forcing yourself not to full-out run. 

You were another block down when a dark-clad arm reached out from an alley and wrapped around your throat. 

A hand was on your mouth before you could even think to scream and the arm was swiftly replaced by a switchblade. 

“Empty your purse,” the hooded figure growled. 

You could only see the bottom half of his face. White, dark stubble, bad teeth. You tried to focus on anything you could, but your mind was racing from the fact that there was a blade pressing into your throat until it drew blood. 

“I said empty your purse, bitch!”

“O-okay.” You held your breath, dumping the contents of your bag into his waiting hand. As you moved, you caught the metal of your engagement ring in the light. You flipped your hand around to hide it from him. 

He cleaned out your wallet and took your phone. You imagined it ringing from a call from Don. 

What if you never saw him again? 

It was then the question entered your mind. 

Was this man going to kill you? 

“Give me your watch,” your assailant ordered. 

You unclasped the Christmas gift from Don’s dad and shoved it into his palm. He pushed you harder against the wall, crushing your chest and scratching your neck against the brick. You clenched your fists to try and redirect the pain. He must have thought you were preparing to strike, so he hit first, his fist colliding with your ribs. 

“Don’t you move, bitch, don’t move!” He screamed. The knife cut deeper and you felt a small trickle of blood on your neck. 

“I’m not, I’m not, please,” you pleaded, “I’m sorry, please.” 

Your car was in the shop. That’s all. 

How does this happen?

“Give me your ring.”

“W-what?” 

He hit your side again. “Give me your goddamn ring!” 

The man didn’t wait for you to move this time. He jerked your hand down, straining your shoulder, and nearly broke your finger tearing off the ring. 

It was Don’s mother’s. 

Such a stupid thing to think about now. 

He put his hands on your shoulders and shoved you to the cement before taking off, vanishing as quickly as he’d appeared. 

For a while, you couldn’t move. You just laid against the metal wall of a dumpster and tried to remember how to breathe. 

After that, you ran. You couldn’t even bear to take the subway, the thought of descending those dark steps clouding your mind with more images of your hooded attacker taking more than your items. 

You just ran. 

-

Don didn’t know what time it was when he finally made it home, but seeing your keys on the hook set his worried mind a bit more at ease. He’d been working on a case all night and had missed your call. When he tried to call you back, everything went to voicemail. 

“Y/N, honey?” He called into the apartment. The lights were off, but you didn’t usually go to sleep until he got home, despite him constantly telling you not to wait up for him. With no response, he threw his jacket on the couch and opened the door to the bedroom. 

You were laying in bed with your back to the door, seemingly asleep. Maybe you’d finally listened to him and went to bed without him.  

Don got undressed and climbed into bed, kissing your shoulder gently so he wouldn’t wake you up. 

Listening to his movements, you stared at the wall, trying to keep from crying loud enough for him to hear. 

-

His day, just as busy as the last, thankfully ended earlier. Especially since he’d gotten a call from his father reminding him that he and Y/N were supposed to cook dinner at the house that night. Don just hoped that you would have some kind of clue as to what to make. 

You were gone before he even woke up, leaving a simple note saying you wanted to get some work done before everyone else arrived. It was odd. Adding onto the fact that you never returned his call from the day before or offered any explanation for why you’d called him at ten o’clock in the evening, he wondered if you were doing alright. He couldn't think of anything that might have upset you, but maybe something had happened at work, hence why you were spending more time there. He tried calling you to check in around lunch, but like the previous night, no answer. 

Whatever was going on, he’d hoped to talk to you before dinner, without the obnoxiously curious ears of his relatives listening in. But when he arrived at Charlie/their father’s house, he found you were already there, hands buried in bread dough and surrounded by the smell of pasta sauce. 

“Hey. I was wondering when you’d get here,” you greeted, sounding out of breath. You’d been doing well enough covering your nervous state around Charlie and Alan, but as soon as your fiance walked in the door, you knew you’d have to work a lot harder. “Sorry I started without you, but the animals are getting hungry out there and I didn’t want to keep them waiting.” 

You kneaded the bread into the counter with a touch more aggression than was probably needed. 

“You know it’s not really my strong suit anyway,” Don chuckled. He moved behind you, laying his chin on his shoulder and his hands on your waist. “This looks great though. But will the bread be ready for tonight? I thought it had to sit for a while or something.” 

“Oh, I’m just making some for tomorrow since the sauce didn’t take as long as I thought,” you shrugged.

“Well, that’s…” He kissed your cheek. “Nice of you.” 

He went to the fridge and opened a bottle of beer, checking around to make sure his brother and dad weren’t around to eavesdrop. 

“Sorry I missed your call last night,” he started, his tone revealing more inquiry than his words. “I was totally swamped with work.”

You hit the dough again. “So was I. I was just calling to explain why I was so late, so no worries.” 

He took a swig from the bottle. “You haven’t been calling me back.”

“Right.” Your shoulders tensed. He noticed. “I dropped my phone when I was unlocking my car. Stupid, right? Totally busted now. I’ll have to get a new one.” 

“Huh.” He took another drink. “I thought your car was in the shop?” 

You poured the finished pasta into the awaiting sauce. “Dinner��s ready!” 

Doing your best to ignore Don’s concerned, questioning looks, you mixed the pasta and returned to the dough, putting it in a bowl so it could rise. Alan entered the kitchen, thus ending Don’s attempt to get any real answers from you. 

“Smells delicious!” Your soon-to-be father-in-law cheered. He eyed his son. “I take it you didn’t have much to do with it.”

“She didn’t give me the chance!” Don defended. 

Charlie joined the merry group and you hoped the multiple participants would distract Don from your inability to stop shaking. The four of you headed to the dining room with you carrying the parmesan in one hand, your plate of hardly any food in the other. You tried to take a deep breath to calm down, but it just sent a sharpness through your ribs. 

Only bruised, according to your hospital visit that day, but still painful. 

“Honey, are you-” Don put a hand between your shoulder blades, leaning in so only you could hear. “Are you feeling okay?” 

His hand inched upward, toward the scratches on the back of your neck, hidden beneath your unseasonal turtle neck, which concealed the marks from the knife on your throat as well. 

“Yeah.” You jerked away. “Of course.” You gave him a smile and a kiss and took your seat across from him at the table. 

The turtle neck was a fashion choice that had not gone unnoticed by your dinner dates. Given that you were in L.A. and it was July, everyone couldn’t help but raise a brow and the dark fabric inching all the way up your throat. 

“Are you cold, Y/N?” Charlie asked. “Because I can turn the heat up if you need-”

“No, no I’m fine,” you lied. You could feel the sweat on your back just sitting there. “Just ran out of clean clothes, so I got stuck with this.” You tried laughing it off but could feel Don’s gaze grow more suspicious by the second. 

“I bet I’ve got some old t-shirts around here somewhere,” he suggested, probing your reaction to try and catch your lie. Your eyes flicked over at him. The corner of your mouth twitched, just slightly. A tell he’d come to recognize. “They aren’t great, but I’m sure they’d be more comfortable than that straight jacket you’ve got on.” 

“That’s okay,” you gulped. “Really. I just want to eat.” 

You grabbed your fork with your left hand. Alan caught a glimpse of your hand. More importantly, he saw the lack of the ring. You quickly put your hand in your lap and reached for your glass of wine. 

While the other three ate in a silence growing with tension, you pushed your food around your plate. Every time you swallowed, you could feel the blade pressing into your skin. Every time you moved, the soreness in your ribs almost made you wince. You knew you couldn’t keep this up for much longer- not with all three Eppes men looking at you with questions in their eyes- but you tried nonetheless. 

With still half of your meal untouched, you stood up and poured the rest of your wine down your throat. 

“I’m going to clean up,” you said. You ducked back into the kitchen, staying near the door when you heard the Eppes boys start to talk. 

“Is she… okay?” Charlie asked. 

“You noticed that too, huh?” Don sighed. His fork clinked against his plate. “I have no idea what could be wrong. As far as I know, things are going well at work, and her family is all healthy. I don’t know, guys. But she does seem off, right?” 

“Well,” Alan started, his tone giving away what you were afraid he’d bring up. “Did you do anything, Don?” 

“Come on, Dad, don’t you think I would have figured that out?” He huffed, taking another drink of his beer. He gulped. “Why do you ask?” 

Alan exchanged a look with his other son, glances at the kitchen door, and back to his oldest. 

“Don, she, uh, she isn’t wearing her ring.” 

You froze. 

Please drop it. Just drop it. Don’t…

“She’s what?”

“Maybe she just took it off to make dinner and forgot, but I saw the way she looked when I noticed,” Alan sighed. “I really think something’s wrong.” 

Charlie coughed, his math brain combatting with the part of his brain telling him to shut up. 

“I could put recent events into an equation-”

“If you turn my relationship into a set of numbers, I will make you eat your chalk, Charlie I swear to God,” Don snapped. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, them turning on each other because of your secrecy. The kitchen door swung open again and you stood before them with your arms crossed to hide your shaking hands. 

“I got mugged,” you blurted. All heads turned to you, eyes widening and Charlie’s mouth falling open. You ran your fingers through your hair and held it up for them to see the bruising around where your ring should have been. “So, yeah, Don didn’t do anything wrong. The ring was stolen. Along with my watch, my wallet, and my phone.” Reluctantly, you glanced at Don. “Which is why I haven’t called you back.” 

You took a deep breath and grimaced, finally letting the pain show. Your hand went to your chest. Don’s face contorted, his arms tensing, ready to spring into action. With all three of them still watching you, hot tears began to blur your vision. 

“You know what, I think I will go change,” you said through trembling lips. “Upstairs right?”

You bolted before anyone could respond. 

Don didn’t hesitate to follow, leaving his brother and father in shocked concern. 

Once you’d made your way to Don’s old room, you tore off the turtleneck and, despite being out of sight from the others, refused to let yourself cry. You distracted yourself by looking through drawers, but they were all empty. 

The door opened slowly and Don stepped inside. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, starting to pace in front of the dresser with its drawers all pulled open. “I didn’t want to tell you. Especially not like that.” Your voice cracked and you covered your mouth with your hand to hide the cries. 

Don stood there, frozen as he took in the sight before him. The skin over your ribs was a deep purple on the right side and there were marks on the back of your neck like you’d been forced up against a rough surface. And your neck had a thin red line, just starting to scab over, stretched across your throat. 

You kept pacing, afraid that if you stopped moving, you’d just feel trapped again. 

“Y/N,” Don said softly.

“I went to the hospital. They said everything would heal in no time.” 

“Sweetheart-”

“It could have been worse,” you reasoned with yourself. “I know that. It could have been so much worse. I mean, I’m here, right? But I don’t feel like I’m… Like I’m still…”  Your breathing caught again, stuck between the pain in your chest and your sobs. 

When Don put his arms around you, you let him, burying your face in his chest as you cried. He sat on the edge of the bed, bringing you into his lap.

“I didn’t want you to find out,” you cried. “I didn’t know how- or-or what to say.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothed. He pulled back, dark eyes looking into yours. “Just talk to me.” 

You both stayed like that until you’d taken a few deep breaths and stood up. Don found a box in the closet with a bunch of his old baseball jerseys. It was nice to cover the bruises, but you couldn’t help but trace the line on your neck, feeling Don’s eyes doing the same. 

“The mechanic called me last night and said they couldn’t return my car until next week,” you said. “I didn’t think it was a big deal until I didn’t get done at work until late.” You saw the question in his expression so you answered it. “It was around ten.” 

Don’s face fell. “That’s why you called me.” 

“I thought, if you were off work, you could swing by and give me a ride, but as soon as I realized you were still busy, I figured I could just take the subway. I didn’t think it was a big deal.” You wiped away more falling tears. 

“I didn’t answer.” Don ran a hand down his face. 

“It’s not your fault, Donnie.” You took his hand in yours. “I’m sure you could ask Charlie all about the statistics about this kind of thing-”

“I don’t want any damn statistics, I wanna find the guy who hurt you,” he snapped. You pulled your hand away and he exhaled. “I’m sorry.” 

You moved to the window, fingers toying with the hem of the jersey. It felt more and more ridiculous the longer you stood there. Your fiance’s childhood bedroom, his college baseball jersey, and a knife mark across your neck. 

“I keep wanting to find ways to blame myself,” you whispered, running a finger across the glass. “I try to tell myself I should have just left earlier, or gone a different direction, or called you again.” You turned back around, the sight of heartbreak in his eyes making you cry all over again. “But then I just think about how I thought he was going to kill me.”

“Hey, don’t go there,” Don said. He crossed the space between you, brushing away your tears with his thumb. “It’s like you said, right? You’re here. You’re with me. And I’m going to be with you. Always.” 

You nodded and, this time, pulled him to you. Your lips brushed against his lightly, as if just to remind yourself he was there. Don tucked a hair behind your ear, letting his arms fall around your waist. 

“So what do you want to do? If you want to go down and make a statement, I’ll be right beside you. If you want, I can look into it. I’ve still got a couple of favors I can call in with the LAPD…”

“Honestly,” you blew out a breath, “I just want to sleep.” 

“Okay.” He kissed your forehead. “You want to just stay here? Maybe I can convince Dad to make some of that hot chocolate you love.” 

“I don’t want to-” You yawned. “Impose.” 

“Are you kidding?” He gave you a small smile. “I’d be surprised if they let us leave.”

The comment pulled a quiet, but well needed, laugh from you and you didn’t even notice the soreness in your chest. 

“I should probably go talk to them,” you said. 

“Only if you want to. I can go down if you want to get some rest.”

You shook your head. “I’ll be okay.” 

Don nodded and laced his fingers with yours, leading you back downstairs. 

Charlie and Alan had moved to the living room, though both remained on the edge of their seats. Charlie nearly jumped up when he heard two pairs of footsteps descending the steps. 

“Hey, Charlie, it’s okay for us to crash here, right?” Don asked, hand still holding onto yours. “We’re both pretty exhausted.” 

“He means me,” you said, holding up your free hand. You noticed their worried expression and felt another round of guilt go through your head. “I’m sorry about before. That wasn’t really the best way to tell you guys what happened.” 

“Y/N, are you…” Charlie started to ask but found himself unable to finish. You didn’t need him to. 

“I will be.” You gave Don’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks, Charlie.” 

“You know what?” Alan stood. “Why don't I make us all some of that hot chocolate you helped me make, hm?”

Don glanced over at you and chuckled. “What did I say? Hot chocolate.”

“That’d be perfect, thank you.” You pulled your hand away from Don’s, looking mournfully at your bare finger. “And Alan?” He turned in the doorway. You took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about the ring.” 

“Oh, honey,” Don sighed, wrapping an arm around your waist and gently pulling you to him, kissing your temple, “we aren’t worried about that.” 

Alan nodded. “We’re just glad you’re okay.” 

“Come on,” Don said, leading you to the sofa where you could lay with your head on his leg and his arm still protectively draped over you.

While you still felt the shadow of that blinking street lamp hanging over you, it was a comfort to know you had someone who would walk you through the dark. 

-

Things did get better. When you explained what happened to your boss, he was more than willing to give you some time off to recover, though it was Don’s idea to take off work. You were pretty sure it was just so he could keep an eye on you. 

And you knew it wasn’t your fault and, with the help of much convincing from you, Don knew there wasn’t anything he could have done. Though, you could still see the way the guilt weighed on his shoulders when he walked into a room. 

You were at the house, marveling at some of Charlie’s work in the garage when your fiance got back from a case he’d kept very quiet about. 

“So what’s this again?” You asked, pointing to an equation on one of the boards hanging from the wall. 

“I’m glad you asked,” Charlie grinned. “I’ve been helping Don with finding where a serial killer’s ‘home base’ is, so to speak.” 

“I’ve heard of that. Geographical profiling, or something like that right?”

“Right. I’m using the locations of all of the attacks and…” He trailed off, looking behind you. 

“Hey guys,” Don greeted, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. 

“Hi, honey. Charlie was just showing me some of the stuff he’s been working on for your cases,” you beamed. 

“That’s great,” Don said. His eyes flicked over to his brother. He cleared his throat. 

“Ah,” Charlie exclaimed, understanding, “right. Well, I have to go do… something else… in the living room.” The younger Eppes darted off, his brother shaking his head in his wake. 

“Do I want to know what that was about?” You snickered. 

Don stepped closer, the intensity of his gaze making you start to worry. 

“What is it?” 

“Do you remember how I said I had some favors I could call in at the LAPD?” He asked. Don pulled a box out of his pocket. “Well one of them paid off.” 

“Don, is that…?” You gasped. 

He opened the box, revealing the ring he’d proposed to you with just months before. His mother’s ring that she’d told him to give to the woman that made him whole. There was no doubt in his mind that that woman was you. 

“We are able to find the guy,” he explained. “Apparently, there have been muggings in that area pretty frequently in the last few weeks. He was too stupid to realize staying in one spot was a bad business move. And luckily he hadn’t pawned this yet, so…” 

Don slipped the ring onto your finger and felt a small part of the weight lift seeing it where it belonged. 

“I know that this doesn’t make anything better or change what happened,  but I wanted to make sure you got it back,” he said. 

You laid your hands on either side of his face. 

“Thank you.” 

You kissed him until you had to pull back to breathe. 

Don smirked. “Well, now that's taken care of, I am treating us all to dinner.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you leaned against his. 

“Don’t tell me you’re cooking?” 

He laughed and lifted your hand, kissing each finger and ending on your ring finger. 

“Pizza.” 

You smiled and found his lips again with yours while the light of the garage cast reflections from the diamond around the walls.

“Sounds perfect.”

[bisexualmultifandommess]

I made this and it’s so dumb but I love it lmao

I was going to put David as Phoebe but then I could imagine David as Joey being forced to keep it a secret from Don by Colby 😂

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

From Domestic Bickering: "I love you. I've just got a funny way of showing it, that's all."

For our beloved Special Agent Eppes

From the domestic bickering prompt list

Sorry this took so long! I went with someone other than our dear journalist, surprisingly.

Warnings: Angst, light fluff

"This seat taken?"

Don didn't even wait for you to answer before he was pulling out the bar stool beside you. You didn't look at him—you didn't need to. Hell, he knew how pissed you were.

"What are you having?" He went on without waiting for you to answer, just reached out and picked your beer up. Knocking it out of his hand would be a bad waste of good beer and would probably get you kicked out of the bar, so you just kept your eyes on the set playing the Dodgers game.

"Megan call you?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Good."

A sinker—swing and a miss. Count 0-1.

"Colby alright?" You asked.

"Yeah, he's fine."

"Good."

Curve way on the outside. Count 1-1.

"Concussion," Don added.

"Figures."

"He'll be on desk duty."

"Makes two of us."

Another curve ball—big swing, big miss. 1-2.

Don sighed, twisting in his seat as he tried, "Alright, look."

"I'm not talking about this."

"You disobeyed a direct order—"

"And I was right to—Disobeyed, what are you, my dad?"

"Right or not, you can't do that on the field. You could've been hurt."

"Could've been, but I wasn't."

Straight down the middle, swung on—and missed.

"This kid can't hit for shit," You muttered, snagging your beer back from Don for a sip.

"...It's just a slump."

"Sure."

"He made a mistake, you know. A couple of bad swings."

"Right."

"Getting benched doesn't mean a player can't get back in the game."

"Are we still talking about baseball?"

"Look at me for a minute."

"No thanks."

"I get that you're pissed—"

"You never would've benched Megan for a call like that."

"Megan's been with the team a helluva lot longer than you, alright? I trust her to make those calls."

"Oh, so the problem is that you don't trust me! No, good."

"That's not what I—"

"No, it's nice. That's what every girl wants to hear from her boyfriend."

"Guts will get you far, but they'll get you killed."

"Really? You're trying to come-to-Jesus me with a quote from Speed? You know Jeff Daniels died in that movie. I mean, not Jeff Daniels the actor, the guy he played who said that died—"

"You almost died." It wasn't even the reminder that made your heart drop into your stomach—it was the desperate, low, hissed way that he said it. "You think I could've handled seeing that? And for what? To prove that you're the biggest badass in the office?"

"I didn't do it because I thought it was badass. I did it because I felt like it was the right call," You insisted. "And it was."

"You were right this time, but you won't be right every time. Neither will I." Don sighed, leaning back a little. "I trust you as my girlfriend. I'm not used to trusting you as an agent. It's different. I'm adjusting—trying to."

"...Guess I'm adjusting a bit, too," You admitted softly.

"Are we okay?"

"We're fine."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," You nodded. "'m just...I'll get over it."

"So you're still mad."

"As an agent, yes. As your girlfriend, no."

Don huffed a soft laugh, nodding. "I think I can handle that...I know you hated being out of the action, but it was a shock to the system—for both of us. I love you. I've just got a funny way of showing it, that's all."

You bit the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to tamp down a lovesick smile.

"You sure do."

"You drive me nuts, you know?"

"I know." You toyed with the label on your beer, shaking your head. "Don?"

"Yeah."

"I love you, too."

[kwebtv]

Virginia Cathryn "Gena" Rowlands (/ˈdʒɛnə/; June 19, 1930 – August 14, 2024) Actress whose career in film, stage, and television spanned nearly seven decades. A four-time Emmy and two-time Golden Globe winner, she collaborated with her actor-director husband John Cassavetes in ten films.

Rowlands costarred with Paul Stewart in the 26-episode syndicated TV series Top Secret (1954–55). She guest-starred on such anthology television series as Robert Montgomery Presents, Armstrong Circle Theatre, Studio One, Appointment with Adventure, The United States Steel Hour, and Goodyear Television Playhouse, all in 1955. In 1959, Rowlands appeared in the Western series Laramie, alongside her husband John Cassavetes in the detective series Johnny Staccato, and in the Western series Riverboat, starring Darren McGavin. In 1961, she appeared in the adventure series The Islanders, set in the South Pacific, and in Target: The Corruptors!, starring Stephen McNally. She guest-starred in The Lloyd Bridges Show, the detective series 77 Sunset Strip, Kraft Suspense Theatre, the Westerns Bonanza and The Virginian, and Breaking Point, all in 1963. In 1964, she guest-starred in the medical drama Dr. Kildare and in two episodes of Burke's Law. She appeared in four episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, three of which were after the series had been renamed The Alfred Hitchcock Hour. In 1967, she was cast as socialite Adrienne Van Leyden in the prime-time ABC soap opera Peyton Place.

In 1985, Rowlands played the mother in the critically acclaimed made-for-TV movie An Early Frost. She won an Emmy for her portrayal of former First Lady of the United States Betty Ford in the 1987 made-for-TV movie The Betty Ford Story

In 2002, Rowlands appeared in Mira Nair's HBO movie Hysterical Blindness, for which she won her third Emmy. Next year she appeared as Mrs. Hellman in an episode from the third season of Numb3rs. She played a Nazi survivor whose whole family was killed. The family owned a painting that the Nazis confiscated. Later on the painting reappeared. The new owner lent the painting to an art gallery in Los Angeles but while on display it was stolen. FBI. agent Don Eppes, played by Rob Morrow, tries to figure out what really happened.

In 2009, she appeared on an episode of Monk ("Mr. Monk and the Lady Next Door"). On March 2, 2010, she appeared on an episode of NCIS as lead character Leroy Jethro Gibbs's former mother-in-law, who is embroiled in a murder investigation. (Wikipedia)

IMDb Listing

[staydandy]

Numb3rs (2006) - Whump List

List by StayDandy Synopsis : FBI agent Don Eppes recruits his younger brother, Charlie, a mathematical genius and college professor, to help solve some of Don's toughest cases. Although others at the bureau are skeptical of Charlie's involvement, he finds support in a colleague at the university where he teaches. (wiki) AKA : Numbers

Whumpee : Charlie Eppes played by David Krumholtz (left)

Country : 🇺🇸 America Genres : Crime, Mystery, Thriller, Family

Notes : This is a Partial List - I didn't list every bit of whump, just what caught my attention the most • Unrelated - but some of you might recognize Charlie/David Krumholtz as Bernard from The Santa Clause movies (I must admit I had a crush on Bernard as a kid, which continued to Charlie as I got older 🙈) • The episode list is formatted season-episode : 00-00

Episodes on List : 5 Total Episodes : 118 Total Seasons : 6

*Spoilers below*

01-02 : Charlie is in shock upon seeing a crime scene he didn't predict correctly … queasy … shuts himself up to obsessively work on a near impossible math problem

02-21 : Whiteboard near his head is shot.. scared, shock … returns to where shooting happened, flashbacks

04-11 : While driving at night chased by a truck … chased a second time, crashes his car (minor), hits his head, shot at … shocked by sound of book dropping (similar to gunshot)

04-14 : not whump : funny - goes through FBI training, fails just about everything except for shooting range

05-23 : Hit in the head, collapses, passes out … thinks his girlfriend is in a burning car, stopped from running to it, collapses

[hummingbird-of-light]

Round 3: Second story for @badthingshappenbingo ~

Title: Caution! Wet Floor

Fandom: Numb3rs

Character(s): Larry Fleinhardt, Don Eppes

Relationship(s): Larry Fleinhardt & Don Eppes

Rating: G

Words: 593

Prompt: Arm in a Sling

Warnings: Broken Bones, Accidents

(You can also find this story on AO3)

~ Caution! Wet Floor ~

"I just can't believe it. I just can't believe that such an incredibly embarrassing accident has happened to me of all people. What will my students say?"

With a pained expression, astrophysicist Dr. Larry Fleinhardt rubbed his injured arm, which was lying in a triangular bandage wrapped in a sling around his shoulder. It was a first aid measure that Don had taken. The temporary splint only had to hold until they reached the hospital.

"Well, they'll probably say that you went all Fleinhardt," Don replied, a hint of a grin on his face. Larry gave the agent a dirty look.

"Don't start using my name as an adjective! It's quite enough when Charles does it. I expect better from his older brother, so – ouch, ouch, ouch!" One wrong move and Larry's arm hurt indescribably again. He squinted his eyes and gritted his teeth.

Don looked over at him and gave him a sympathetic smile before looking back at the road. If traffic in Los Angeles continued to be this slow, it would be an eternity before they reached the hospital.

"I'm sorry, Larry. I didn't mean it like that. And it would be better if you tried to sit still and not get too excited."

The professor had a tendency to gesticulate wildly during his tirades, which was not a good idea in his current state.

Larry sighed heavily and leaned his head back into the headrest of the car.

"I know, I know. Oh, if only I'd remembered that Wednesdays are always the day they clean the corridors! Then this bloody arm fracture wouldn't have happened in the first place," he complained.

"Maybe next time you're on your way to a lecture, you should just not have your nose buried in a book, but focus on your surroundings. That can be really helpful."

Larry heard the mischievous undertone in Don's voice very clearly and once again he glared at his friend.

"Donald Eppes," he said in a warning voice and the agent shrugged his shoulders.

"What, I'm just saying."

Larry simply shook his head and mumbled a quiet "No respect" to himself before the two men remained silent for quite a while.

The silence was only broken when Don suddenly couldn't hold back a laugh and snorted.

"What's so funny, young man?" Larry demanded to know, his eyes narrowed suspiciously and Don waved his hand away.

"It ... it was kinda funny. The way you slid along the freshly mopped floor, trying to find your balance. Almost like a cartoon."

For a moment, Larry felt annoyed at Don's sudden burst of laughter, but then he imagined the image that had presented itself to the his best friend's brother as he had turned into the corridor.

A small, elderly man in a floral shirt, slithering through the corridor like Bambi across the frozen lake and eventually falling to the floor, only to slide on belly first.

The physicist couldn't help but smile. It had certainly looked very amusing.

"Sorry, sorry. I ... No, it wasn't funny at all. You're hurt. I shouldn't laugh about it," Don quickly apologized, but Larry only shook his head.

"It is all right, Don." He patted the driver of the car on the knee before laughing himself. "Who knows ... Maybe the story will even get an honor roll entry in my students' yearbook."

"Oh, I'm quite sure it will, Larry. After all, you're one of the best professors CalSci has. If you're not a celebrity, who is?"

Both men laughed and suddenly the pain was only half as bad.

[babytarttdoodoo]

First sentence thing and I’m being shameless about it-

Don froze in the doorway. “Kyle, what the hell is that?”

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my askbox and I will write the next five.

You MENACE. For the context of literally everyone else, Kyle is a character dreamed up as part of a Numb3rs AU between @readwing, @altschmerzes and myself.

I will not be able to keep this to six sentences.

---

Don froze in the doorway. “Kyle, what the hell is that?”

He watched the young professor startle with only the slightest twinge of guilt, seeing as how seemingly every writable surface in his garage was covered in unintelligible mathematical scrawl.

Kyle flailed a little as he span to face him, a hand coming to his chest in an apparent attempt to calm his heartrate.

"Agent Eppes! Sorry! Your, uh, your dad let me in. He said I could wait for you in here."

"Of course he did." Don sighed and made a beeline for his vacant office chair, motioning to the repurposed evidence boards. "What is all this? It's for the case?"

"Yeah, yeah it is," Kyle hurried to reassure him, pointing to several sections of the complex equations. "It occurred to me that we could redirect the search parameters to account for the patterns of the victims' movements, in addition to the assailant's. I've already refined the next probable area of attack down to a ten-block grid."

Despite his exhaustion, and despite the exasperation of running into this guy around every corner in his life lately, Don managed a tired smile. "That's great, thank you. I'll call it in."

Kyle offered a hesitant smile of his own, looking a little sheepish in the face of Don's reaction. "Happy to help. Though, I'm sorry if I'm intruding. I was just passing and thought I could swing by with an update."

He turned back to the boards, taking in the scale of the work he'd done with mild surprise.

"... I guess I got a little carried away. This space is incredibly conducive to lateral thinking."

"You think so?" Don glanced around the renovated garage. "I only converted it into an office last year. There's not really a place in the house for all of... this."

He indicated the file folders that littered his desk, and the assorted horrors that lay within.

Kyle looked around as well, taking in everything from the old couch and pool table shoved off to one side of the structure, to the boxes and boards that served to keep the overspill of Don's professional life in some semblance of order. His smile grew into something more genuine.

"I like it."

[helmstone]

Numb3rs season 2 — some thoughts

Numb3rs season 2 — some thoughts

Unlike season 1, Numb3rs season 2 is a full run of 24 episodes. The FBI team has been tweaked, with newcomer Megan Reeves (Diane Farr) joining along with Colby Granger (Dylan Bruno). Within the team, it seems (to me) David Sinclair (Alimi Ballard) seems a little more senior. Add in the brothers Eppes (FBI Agent Don (Rob Morrow) and Professor of Mathematics Charlie (David Krumholtz)) with father…

[nominalnebula]

I will not apologize for giving you another blorbo

especially not one as annoyingly attractive and emotionally stunted as Special Agent Don Eppes

he's lucky he's pretty

[incorrectnumb3rsquotes]

Charlie: I'm calm. I'm cool. I'm collected.

Don, purely to aggravate him: Spock was the worst Star Trek character.

Charlie: *voice squeaking* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

[seattlemanboy]

Rob Morrow, Numb3rs (2005)

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Unknown Trajectory

Don Eppes x Reader

Words: 3864

Part One of Three

Summary: Charlie begins a specialty course, co-taught by a teacher in criminology. He invites Don as a guest speaker to show the kids first hand the importance of mathematics in crime solving. Don, however, finds more interest in Charlie’s co-worker. When he and the reader begin a relationship, they keep it hidden from the genius mathematician, but find that their growing feelings for each other are only the start of the equation. 

Notes: What started as a fluff idea turned into a three part drama. Welp. I know this isn’t the most popular show for imagines, but god I love writing for Don. Rob Morrow is just great. I hope there are some of you out there who enjoy! Let me know I’m not alone haha. 

More Crime Drama imagines: HERE

-

Don felt like a kid called to the principal’s office. It was stupid. He’d been to Charlie’s place of work countless times, but in those instances, he was there to do a job. He didn’t have to stand up in front of a bunch of kids with higher IQs than him and try to explain how his genius kid brother helps him do his job. 

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he whined, fixing his tie in Charlie’s mirror. 

“And I really, really appreciate it, Don,” Charlie said. “I mean, explaining things with Dr. Y/L/N is one thing, but having you here to let them see the real-life connections I think will really help their understanding of the concepts.”

Don shook his head. “I better not just end up standing up there like an idiot while you and some other ancient law professor with a stick up his ass use me like some, I don’t know, ventriloquist dummy.” Leaning against the desk, Don had his back to the door. “Who is this Dr. Y/L/N, anyway?”

“Well not ancient and not a ‘he,’” a voice behind him chided. “As for the stick though, I’m afraid I have some students who might agree with you.” 

Don gave his brother- who could very clearly see the door opening- a deadly glare. 

Charlie’s brows raised and he laughed nervously. “Y/N. Good of you to stop by before the lesson.”

“I figured I should meet our special guest before he leads our class for the day.” You smiled at Charlie and held out your hand to his brother with a playful glint in your eye. “You must be Agent Eppes.” 

“You can call me Don,” he grimaced. He shook your hand, giving you an apologetic look. “Sorry about that. It’s been a long day and my brother kinda sprang this on me and when he talked about you he made you sound….”

“Like an ancient law professor with a stick up his ass?” You teased. 

“I did not!” Charlie protested. 

“It’s okay, Agent Eppes.” Your smile conveyed no hard feelings. In fact, it lit up the room. “I’m just giving you a hard time. Charlie’s told me so much about you.” 

Don glared at him again. Charlie held up his hands innocently.

“All good things,” you laughed. Starting back to the door, you turned around again to give the older Eppes a wink. “Mostly.”

Don bit the inside of his cheek, finding himself utterly speechless. His brother, however, was not.

“We should probably go,” Charlie said. “We don’t want to be late for our own class, hm?” 

“Yes, I can’t wait for Agent Eppes to lead our discussion.” You watched the FBI Agent’s face fall.

“Leading? Who said I was leading?” He looked to Charlie in an irritated panic. “I said I’d answer a few questions.”

Charlie patted him on the back. “You’ll do great.”  

The two of you ushered him into the rush of students before he had the chance to bail. 

The class went better than he expected, though it certainly helped to have you sitting with your students, looking up at Don with interested eyes and a stunning smile. By the time it was over, he was almost a little disappointed that he had to leave. 

“I’ve got to run,” Charlie said on your way out of the classroom. “I promised Larry I’d help him with a demonstration, but we’ll definitely get together to discuss the next assignment, yeah?” 

You nodded, giving him a bright smile. “Today was amazing. I can’t wait to see what the students are going to write for their research assignments.” 

“Yeah, me too.” He put a hand on Don’s shoulder. “And thanks a lot for coming today. I think it really made a difference.” 

“After all the cases you’ve helped with, it’s the least I can do, Charlie,” Don said. 

“See you guys later.” And he was off, diving in between students and hurrying down the hall so he wouldn’t be late. 

You motioned for Don to follow you outside so you could get out of the chaos. The sun just barely peeked out from fluffy white clouds, providing a break from L.A.’s usual heat.

“Really, Agent Eppes, I can’t even begin to thank you for today. I think it really helped them understand the point of the class, seeing you and Charlie interact and hearing about what you do,” you beamed. “It was amazing.”

“Thank you for having me, Dr. Y/L/N,” he said. “It was honestly a lot more fun than I thought it would be.” 

You smiled. “You can call me Y/N.” 

“Only if you stop calling me Agent.” 

You pretended to debate the idea and nodded. The two of you found a bench to sit on. His arm brushed against yours, giving you goosebumps despite the warm air.

Don inhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “Listen, I really am sorry about what I said before the lecture. I was freaking out about talking to all those kids and I was being an ass.”

“You really don’t have to worry.” Looking over the courtyard, you laughed with a sigh. “Believe it or not, I’ve been called worse.” 

“Can I at least make it up to you?” He asked. He leaned a little closer. “Buy you dinner?”

You turned to him with a smirk. “Are you asking me out, Don?” 

“Only if you’re saying yes, Y/N.” 

The clock on the quad struck three and you stood up, taking a piece of paper from your bag and writing your number. 

“I guess I can accept that form of apology,” you said, walking away with a new sway in your step. 

Don watched you go, the simple fun of flirty taking root as something much more complicated in his chest. He ignored it, for now, but found that it never really went away. Especially when he thought about that smile. 

-

The first weekend, he had to cancel due to a series of bank robberies. 

That Wednesday, you rescheduled due to a case your friend needed an expert witness for. 

Almost two weeks passed before you found the slightest open window, and even then it was just a couple of hours during a time that would definitely be classified as ‘booty call’ appropriate. But, despite the connotations of the hour, you made the call. 

“Eppes.”

“Hey, Don. It’s Y/N.” You bit your lip, starting to regret the call already. “Sorry, it’s late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I was up anyway. Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just calling because… God this is stupid,” you sighed. “Do you want to come over?” 

There was silence and then-

“Uh… sure?” 

“Only if you aren’t busy. I was planning on ordering a pizza because I haven’t eaten all day and I thought, well, it isn’t exactly fancy, but it still kinda counts as a dinner date, so I called and-”

“A dinner date it is,” Don said before you could spiral too much. “Just tell me your address and I’ll head over, yeah?

You relayed the apartment address and hung up, any confidence you’d had when the two of you first met having totally dissipated. 

It took him only twenty minutes to find your place, which was far shorter than you’d anticipated. Your kitchen table was littered with research files and the living room was in an even worse state. 

“Oh God,” you sighed, running a hand down your face, and opened the door. 

Don stood with a pack of beer in hand and a cautiously optimistic smile. 

“Hey,” he greeted. 

“Hi. Come in. Sorry about the mess. I was cleaning, and then the pizza got here, and then you…” You winced as he looked around, but there was no judgment in his face. 

“If you think this is a mess, you should see mine,” he laughed. His eyes fell upon the already full table. “Where do you want to eat?” 

“Um.” Your eyes searched around in a panic. Finally, you shrugged. “Fire escape.”

“Ah, dinner under the stars,” he teased. “Very romantic.” 

You both climbed out of the window and onto the landing. Don’s hand found the small of your back to make sure you didn’t fall as you sat down on the first step. He sat beside you a step down. 

At first, you both just talked about each other’s days, how you’d been since the last time you saw each other- though, you’d spoken on the phone several times in between. He made a joke about having a lesson with Charlie but admitted they couldn't have solved the case without him. You talked about how well the course seemed to be going, and how the kids still mentioned how much they loved hearing from Don. 

“So how does a beautiful criminology professor end up working with my math wiz brother?” Don smiled, taking a sip from his beer. 

You shifted on the step of the fire escape, shoulder bumping his. 

“I, actually, approached Charlie.” 

He raised a brow. “Really?”

“Uhuh.” You took a bite of your pizza, leaning forward so the grease wouldn’t drip onto your chin. “I heard what he'd been working on for the FBI and I just found it totally fascinating.” Setting the food aside, you leaned against the rail. “He’s taught me a lot.”

“Whether you ask him to or not, right?” Don chuckled. 

“He’s definitely…” You thought for a moment. “Enthusiastic.” The thought of Charlie’s over-caffeinated ramblings made you smirk. “But, I don’t know. I had to take College Algebra twice, so I might not be the easiest student to teach.” 

“I’m sure you’re a dream compared to me and my team.”

You swallowed a drink, shaking your head. “Not from what he says. I mean, you should hear the way he talks about working with you. He just lights up, Don.”

Don hummed but said nothing, and brought the bottle back to his lips. 

The two of you sat in the quiet of the evening, leaning closer ever so slightly, like magnets put next to each other. There was a side of you that blared warning sirens, reminding you of all the reasons this was your first date in two years. That, and he was a federal agent who, on more than one occasion, Charlie had joked about his utter lack of a love life. But you ignored all of it when you closed the space between you.

There was no hesitation, no worry of what this meant. His lips moved against yours, his hand cupping your cheek before moving to the nape of your neck, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, all of the stress and pressure from his week melted away. Don smiled against your sigh, setting the pizza box on the landing so he could pull you closer. 

You were both so lost in the moment, you didn’t notice the rain until it started to pour. 

When you finally broke apart, your shirt clung to your skin. His white T-shirt might as well have vanished altogether with how the water turned it completely transparent. 

But the rain was warm and welcoming. It ushered in suggestions. It encouraged. 

Needless to say, the two of you spent the rest of the evening inside. 

-

When Don woke up, his arms were empty, his shirt was drying on the back of a chair, and blinds were drawn back, allowing the sun to blind his tired eyes before he remembered where he was. 

He checked the clock on the nightstand. 7:30. 

“Great," he muttered. 

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he ran a hand down his face to try and wake himself up. With his vision adjusting, he noticed the paper lying over the top of his drying shirt.

Had to prepare for an 8:00 lecture. Didn’t want to wake you. Maybe meet for lunch?

P.S. There's coffee in the kitchen. I made sure to leave it on so it’ll be hot for you. 

Don laughed to himself. Usually, he was the one who had to sneak out because of work. It had to be the first time he’d woken up alone because of homework. 

He put on his clothes and made his way to the kitchen where, sure enough, the coffee pot was left on. He switched it off and poured himself a cup, glancing around at the chaos that was your living room and table in the daylight. It reminded him of the garage when Charlie was on a roll with some equation or another. But he didn’t mind it. He could see how dedicated you were to your job, like he was. So, even though he had to lean against the counter rather than sit at the table, everything already felt so familiar, more welcoming than his own cold and empty apartment. 

He got a call not long after he finished his coffee and sighed. Another day, another case. Still, he thought about your note as he drove. Maybe he could still stop by CalSci. He’d probably have to talk to Charlie anyway and besides, he still owed you a meal. 

-

It was cutting it close, but Don managed to have time to get to CalSci just before noon with some sandwiches from a deli on the way. As he made his way to your office, he followed the sound of a very cheesy 80s power ballad that rang over the gaggle of students. The closer he got to the door, the more he could pick your voice out from Foreigner. 

“Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far. To change this lonely life.”

Don opened the door just a crack and found you jumping around, using a gavel as a microphone. 

“I wanna know what love is. I want you to show me!”

He bit his lip to keep from smiling too widely. Don let you finish the verse before he finally spoke up.

“So this is what you ditched me for, huh?” He said loud enough so you’d hear him over the music. 

Your body went stiff and you slammed your hand on the radio’s off switch. You whipped around, cheeks red as a beat, and ran your fingers through your hair which had become a bit of a mess from head-banging for the past half hour. 

“Don,” you gasped, “hi.” 

“Hey,” he grinned. “Don’t stop on my account, I just figured I’d drop by with that lunch you mentioned.” He set the bag of food on your desk. “I didn’t know what kind you’d like, so I got turkey or roast beef.”

“How romantic,” you teased, leaning on the desk with your hand on his arm. 

“It’s better than soggy pizza, I can tell you that.” 

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “I still can’t believe I called you last night. I swear, I don’t usually do that kind of thing. I just figured it might be our only chance to-”

“I had a good time.” He assured you, tucking a wild hair behind your ear. “A great time, actually.” He placed his hand behind your head. “I’m glad you called.” 

Your lips just barely brushed his when you pushed back with a reluctant sigh. 

“I can’t do this.” 

Don let his hand fall back to his side and tried not to let his face fall as well. He cleared his throat and took a step away from you. 

“Right,” he said stoically. “Okay.”

“Oh my God, no that came out wrong,” you exclaimed. “I mean I can’t do this right now.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Okay?”

“Don, I really, really enjoyed last night.” You took his hands in yours. “I had more fun than I’ve had in a long time and, I know our schedules are crazy, but I would really like to see you again. Preferably not on my fire escape, though I’m definitely not upset about what that led to.” The memory of his lips against yours, his hands grasping yours, his body against yours popped into your mind. You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus. “I just can’t do it right now because-”

With the knock at the door, you let your hands drop his and you both stepped further away from each other. 

“Are you ready to go over-” Charlie started. His words and his feet halted, however, when he saw you weren’t alone. “Don, hey. What are you doing here?” 

You and the agent exchanged a look and an unsaid understanding passed between you, though neither of you knew the reason.

“I, uh, I was coming to see you and thought I’d say hi to Dr. Y/L/N,” Don said. 

“Yeah, I had a couple of questions about some of your… procedures that I wanted to clear up for the next lesson,” you coughed to cover your lie. “Don was nice enough to stop by since he’s here to see  you.” 

“Right.” Don nodded. 

Charlie blinked. “Ooooookay.” He waved the files in his hand. “So, are you ready to go over the equations to narrow down possible killers from larger lists?” 

“Actually, Charlie, I do need to talk to you,” Don said. “It’s about that serial killer we think may have started up again.” 

“Right.” Charlie tapped his chin with the folder. “Um, Y/N can I take a rain check? We can talk it over after your last class?”

“Sounds good.” You gave him a tight smile. “Good luck catching bad guys. Both of you.” Both Eppes nodded, Don mouthing an apology so Charlie wouldn't see.

 You returned it with finger guns. 

Once they were gone, you hit your palm to your forehead. “Finger guns?” You chided yourself. “Really?”

With a sigh, you switched on the radio and rummaged through the bag Don brought you for the turkey sandwich. 

“Hey, Charlie. Yeah, let’s talk about class,” you said in mock conversation. “Oh, and by the way? I had sex with your brother. That’s not going to be weird right?” 

You let your forehead fall to your desk, narrowly missing your sandwich.

This was going to be more complicated than you thought. 

-

“I’m serious!” You giggled. “I am deathly afraid of, you heard it, swans.” 

“Swans?” Don shook his head. “Like white fluffy birds they put on valentines cards, those swans?”

“Don’t let the cards fool you. Swans are demonic little creatures.” You sipped your wine, still sniggering. “I got chased by one as a kid. The thing almost bit me. Scarred me for life.” 

“Well, if we ever come across any rogue swans, I’ll protect you,” he smiled. 

“Oh, right, my knight in shining Kevlar going up against waterfowl. That’s something I’d pay to see.” 

You both laughed a little too loudly, the other patrons at the restaurant casting looks in your direction. Despite that, the wine and candlelight definitely set a different scene than beer on your fire escape. Though, you might still prefer the latter.

It’d been two months since that night. And somehow, in the face of all the obstacles your jobs posed- including keeping everything a secret from his brother- you’d managed to build something resembling a real relationship. Which excited and terrified you. 

“How were classes today?” He asked, pouring you more wine. 

“Your brother scares me with how smart he is sometimes,” you exclaimed.  “I mean, the things he’s able to figure out using symbols that mean absolutely nothing to me…” 

“Welcome to my world, sweetheart.” 

Don placed his hand on top of yours, gently drawing circles on the back of your wrist, seeming lost in thought. 

“Speaking of Charlie,” he started, glancing up at you with a question you’d both had on your mind. 

“Right,” you sighed. 

“Should we…” Don cleared his throat. “We should tell him, right? It’s weird that we haven’t told him.”

“I thought that too.” You swirled your wine in the glass. “But now isn’t it more weird that we haven’t told him? I mean, what do we say? That we’ve been seeing each other for a couple months now and just forgot to mention it?” 

“Yeah, but we can’t go on sneaking around like high school kids, right?” 

“I know, I know. But it still just feels… weird.”

Don raised a brow. “Dating me feels weird?” 

“No,” you rolled your eyes, poking his arm. “But dating my co-worker’s brother behind his back is a little odd.”

“Charlie’s a big boy, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Besides, it's not like you two were a thing.” Don took a drink.

You lowered your eyes. 

“Wait,” he swallowed. “You and Charlie…” He shook his head in disbelief “And you didn’t think to mention it?” 

“It wasn’t even really a thing,” you defended. “It was… a fraction of a thing. A teeny tiny percentage of a thing.” He still stared at you wide-eyed, so you continued. “We were at an end-of-the-year function for faculty, had a couple drinks, and went for a walk.”

“That’s it?”

You bit your lip. “And we kissed. But that was it!”

“You kissed my brother?” He exclaimed.

People around you started to whisper. 

You lowered your voice. 

“Now who’s acting like a high schooler?” You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just-” Don held up his hands, holding back laughter. “Difficult to imagine. That’s all.” 

“Obviously, we decided to just be friends and that's part of how our joint class came to be,” you said. 

He nodded, but couldn’t contain his smirk. “But you didn’t want to say anything about us just in case he carried a torch for you, huh?”

“No, it isn’t that.” You knew as well as anybody that Charlie had eyes for one person and you were over the moon that he and Amita were finally working things out. But you also couldn’t bear the thought of upsetting him over something like this, especially after not telling him for so long. “I just didn’t want to make things awkward.” 

“Well, like I said, Charlie’s a grown man,” Don shrugged. “Even if he did have a problem, he’d get over it.” 

The waitress brought the check and Don snagged it before you could. You finished your wine and he ate the last piece of bread by the time she got back. 

“I will say though,” you mused as the two of you stood to leave, laying a hand on his chest. “All of the secrecy is more than a little bit sexy, hm?”

He cocked a brow. “Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Makes you seem like James Bond.” 

He chuckled, his hand finding the small of your back to lead you back to the car. 

“Alright, then maybe you should get me to a secure location, Dr. Y/L/N,” he teased. “We wouldn’t want to blow my cover.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” You winked and got in the car. 

While it certainly wasn’t a path you expected to be on, for the first time in a long while, you were enjoying the ride. 

Maybe, this time, things would be different. 

For both of you.

[bisexualmultifandommess]

I’m half way through my Don finds out about Colby and Charlie one shot fic!

There’s a bit of protective big brother Don about to happen!

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Multitudes

Men I Always Meant to Write For Masterlist

Pairing: Don Eppes x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: Another part one of a shamefully indulgent (and unofficial) Men I Always Meant to Write For series. Not beta-read.

Warnings: Fluff; mentions of canon-specific violence; flip-phones because it’s 2007

Tag list: @informally-liz (here to infuence you on another obscure blorbo :P) ; @20th-centu-fairy-girl (it’s our baby) ; @nominalnebula @amneris21 @elen-aranel @missredherring​ @blueeyesatnight​ @brandyllyn​ (idk he’s tortured and I thought you might like him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯; feel free to ignore!) 

Summary: You’d be damned if you said you’d never been interested in Don Eppes. In your brief acquaintance, you’d felt a certain pull to him. There was nothing to be done then—between his work trying to solve the case and your work trying to cover it for the paper you work for, the two of you had butt heads. But once Eppes had realized that you were more interested in helping the case that sensationalizing it, his irritation had cooled. You’d almost been chummy by the end of the case—almost. 

“Hey, choke up on that bat a bit more.”

You do so without thanking him for the advice, without making a single comment. But when your bat connects with the ball with a sharp, resounding clink!, you feel yourself grinning.

“I was doing alright, you know,” You tell him. But you keep your hands as he directed, taking a swing at the next ball shot out of the machine. Your bat makes contact in as advantageous a place as before.

“I know.”

“Oh? You been watching me, Agent?”

“Caught my eye as I was passing.”

You grin, reaching back and whacking at the button to stop the machine before you turn to face him fully. You realize instantly that it’s a mistake.

Don is leaning against the fence behind you, two fingers hooked into the fence of the cage. He’s chewing a wad of gum like his life depends on it—like he’s trying to imitate his old heroes chomping tobacco and shooting the juice through their front teeth.

"You been here long?" You ask.

"Just finished up. You?"

"Got about, uh—" You shake your sleeve back, eyeing your watch, "Ten minutes left."

"Want a beer?"

The offer makes your brows raise in surprise. Of all the things you thought may come out of Don Eppes' mouth over the course of this conversation, this didn't break the top ten.

"I could go for a drink," You admit. Don's grin widens and he shifts from foot to foot, nodding to the machine.

"Get back to it, then. Sooner you finish up, sooner we can go."

"Are you just gonna stand there and watch me?"

"You intimidated?"

"Maybe."

Don chuckles, flashing you his pearly whites as he straightens fully.

"Alright. I'll wait for you down there."

"Okay," You laugh, nodding. You can't help but watch him go, and you damn the way he turns back to meet your eye in turn.

--

You’d be damned if you said you’d never been interested in Don Eppes. In your brief acquaintance, you’d felt a certain pull to him. There was nothing to be done then—between his work trying to solve the case and your work trying to cover it for the paper you work for, the two of you had butt heads. But once Eppes had realized that you were more interested in helping the case that sensationalizing it, his irritation had cooled. You’d almost been chummy by the end of the case—almost.

--

“What’s got you out here tonight, anyway?” Don asks. You shrug a shoulder, trailing your finger along the label on the beer.

“Just had the urge to hit something. Better for myself and everyone else that I work it out at the cages, right?”

“I hear that,” Don mutters. You smile a little.

“That why you’re here?”

Don raises a hand, tipping it back and forth. You smile, leaning back in your seat a touch. 

“Tough case?” You ask.

“Am I on the record?”

“Oh, fuck off,” You grumble, fighting back a grin at Don’s laugh. “You know as well as I that California is a two party consent state. Anything I’d record without your permission would be inadmissible and punishable by law.”

“Nice to know you care about those rules and regs.”

“I’d be an idiot not to.” You tip your head to the side, eyes sweeping Don’s face. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

“Oh no?”

“Mm-mm. You look like you haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a few days.”

“You know what that looks like?”

“I know exactly what that looks like. I saw you during the case, I saw you at the hearing. Those were two very different looks.”

Don pushes out an irritated huff between tightly pursed lips. 

“You keep an eye out, huh.”

“Both of our jobs require reading people.”

“Is it my turn to say what I see?”

“If you like.” It’s only fair, but it’s intimidating. Don considers you for a long moment, eyes narrowing just a touch. It makes you want to squirm in your seat, but you’ve been given looks like this by people that would just as soon shoot you as look at you. Don’s not like that.

“You don’t like whatever it is you’re covering.”

“Oh no?” You arch your brows. “What makes you say that?” 

“When we worked together—”

“—Oh, you mean when you subpoenaed my research and brought me in for questioning?”

“—You held yourself differently. Stronger eye contact, better posture. You were engaged. Whatever you’re working on right now is takin’ it outta you.” 

Your brows shoot up at the accusations, and you find yourself pushing out a shaky laugh as you turn your face from him, raising your beer to your lips. It’s a little freaky that he can see into you like that.

“Am I wrong?” Don presses. You swallow thickly, the beer like a lump in your throat as you push it into your stomach.

“God, I wish you were.”

“What is it?”

“What I’m working on?”

“Uh-huh.” 

You bite your lip, fiddling almost nervously with your beer. “How about a rule for tonight?”

“What kinda rule?”

“No work talk.” 

Don leans back in his seat a little bit, tipping his head to the side. You can feel him trying to read you; you’re certain he’s trying to dig right into your soul. And then he gives a short nods, lips pursing.

“Alright,” He concedes. “No work. Then what the hell do we talk about?”

The two of you talk about family, and about school. He digs into your time at Quantico, and why you dropped out of training for the FBI.

“It was one of the biggest things that popped for you,” He tells you, “When I looked through your file.”

“Yeah, I bet.” You pillow your chin on your hand. 

“You ever regret it?”

“Dropping out?” You ask.

“Mhm.”

Your hand slides from your chin to scrub at the back of your neck as you consider it.

“I...I won’t pretend that having my hands tied with the ways I can investigate sometimes doesn’t drive me nuts—knowing that I’d have access to way more if I’d stuck to that track, but...” You life your head again to look at Don. “But what you do, day in and day out? I couldn’t do that. I realized it a little too late.”

“You go right into reporting?”

“No, no. I did a few other things in between—marketing, analytics...Things that let me dig into how people think, why they do what they do. Then I hit on journalism.”

“Why the switch?”

“I felt like the things I was saying at work just weren’t being said loud enough.” 

Don nods silently, then offers, “It’s too bad. You were good at it.”

Your eyes and smile widen, stunned. “You looked at my assessments?”

“Yeah,” Don admits with a soft laugh, “But it’s more than that, it’s—When we worked the case. The way you talked to the witness, you know, how you—twisted the emotional knife. We spent five days trying to get to that woman, it did nothing.”

“Well, sometimes you just need a different angle.”

“Hey, I’m all about the different angle. I’ve been working with Charlie for...Two, three years now, different angle is his middle name.”

“Charles ‘Different Angle’ Eppes? Gee, thanks mom and dad.” You smile widely as Don smiles, his arms folding on the table. “You two work well together,” You add. It’s Don’s turn to shift with nerves, hiding his face for just a moment as he scrubs his hand across it.

“We do now, yeah.”

“Not always a happy partnership?”

“Not even that, just, you know...We didn’t get along when we were kids. Sometimes the fact that we get along now seems like a...An anomaly.”

“A statistical improbability?”

“Exactly,” Don laughs. “Thank you—You know what, I’m gonna tell him that...I don’t know, though, you know.” His mirth sobers as he lowers his eyes to the bar. “It’s nice to get along with him now. It’s like I’ve opened the door to something I didn’t even know existed.”

“You happy you did?”

“Yeah,” Don’s brow furrows, nodding. “Yeah, he’s—He’s a smart guy, good kid. He likes to help—and I appreciate it, you know, any lead or any clue that he can point us to, it can make or break a case sometimes.”

“It’s nice that that can bring you closer, even if it isn’t always under the happiest of circumstances.”

“Never is if a crime is involved...” Don trails off, lips pressed thin. And then you see him push a smile onto his face, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You said no work.”

“I’m not sure family chat counts as work, Eppes.”

“Oh no?”

“Overlaps, maybe.”

“Definitely.”

You raise your hands in concession. “Fine, no family-slash-work chat.”

“Good.”

“So I definitely shouldn’t ask about the couple of times your dad consulted informally?”

“Who told you that?”

“...Your dad.”

--

it’s a bad idea to let Don buy you another beer. It’s a worse idea to let him drive you home. The worst idea you have is inviting him inside—but he follows you to your front door, up the steps, into your apartment.

He takes his damn time peering around your shelves, at your framed photographs and your books. You take your damn time opening your beers, eyes set primarily on Don—on the slope of his shoulders, and the slight narrowing of his eyes and purse of his lips as he takes in the contents of your bookshelf—until your bottle opener slips and you skim your knuckles. You hiss, muttering, “Son of a bitch.”

“You okay back there?”

“Uh-huh,” You answer hurriedly, looking down at the beer and cracking it open before you glance over your knuckles. The skin is irritated, raised just a touch. It’s not major, nothing some cold water can’t fix.

“What, the beers fightin’ back?”

You glance up, an irritated pout affixed on your face. It melts when you see Don holding a heavy, engraved crystal plaque.

“Find something you’re interested in?” You ask.

“Excellence in broadcasting,” He reads, then looks at you as he holds up the plaque. “You were in tv?”

“Produced from a studio for a year, then jumped ship for print.”

“Some would say that written journalism is giving way to broadcast.”

“If you’re gonna say that, you’re not getting this beer.”

Don raises a penitent hand, chuckling, “I said some, not me.” He sets the award down before he strides toward you. You hold one of the beers out, and he takes it—only to set it aside in favor of taking hold of your hand and looking at your knuckles.

“What’d you do?” He mumbles, crowding closer.

“Nothing.”

“Oh?”

“Wasn’t paying attention. It slipped.” 

“Oh yeah? What were you payin’ attention to?”

It’s a trap of a question. You can’t tell him you were paying attention to him, but if you weren’t paying attention to your hands, then what the hell else could you have been looking at? You shrug a little bit, mumbling out a lame, half-hearted excuse. 

“I don’t think I caught that,” Don chuckles. 

“Nothing to catch.”

“No?”

“Nothing of consequence.”

“Not sure I believe that.”

Don raises your hand to his lips, brushing a tender kiss along your knuckles. It makes your stomach twist with shock. You almost feel as if you’ve stepped out of yourself—like you’re peering at Don from another vantage point. His warm breath brushes the back of your hand as he lifts his head to peer at you from under his sweeping lashes. 

You watch one another for a few long moments before Don straightens up. But where you thought he’d let go of your hand, he tugs you closer. You wobble a touch, raising your other hand to catch on his shoulder. He dips his head, nudging his nose against yours. But he waits. Don doesn’t dive right in; his eyes search yours, and at such close proximity, his dark eyes seem to contain multitudes.

This feels like an awful idea. You don’t want this to hang over your interactions in the future; you don’t want to risk what has become a genial relationship with him, and his team. But more than that, you want to feel Don pressed far closer than he is now.

You lean in just a little, your nose brushing lightly against Don’s. You track one another’s gaze, hardly blinking as you grow closer. For a moment, you think that one or both of you will back off, laugh awkwardly, dismiss it. But before you can second-guess yourself, Don dives in for a kiss. Your eyes slip closed at the contact. Your free hand raises to curl around the back of his neck, keeping him close. Don slides his hand away from yours, resting them on your hips. Your skin prickles with heat as he backs you up against the counter. He groans softly, smoothing his hand up the back of your shirt. You tip your head, teasing your tongue between his lips and whimpering softly. You’re set to push yourself up onto the counter, but—

You groan again, tipping your head back as his phone rings in his pocket. He spits a curse, reaching for his phone and opening it.

“Eppes.”

You lean up, brushing your lips against his neck, grinning as his fingers press against your skin, sweeping against your bra strap.

“...Alright...Alright, I’ll be there in twenty.”

Dang.

You lean back, smiling a little as he closes his phone and tucks it away again. He sighs, and before he can apologize, you offer, “It’s alright. Could’ve just as easily happened to me.”

“Yeah.” Don agrees, but he doesn’t look convinced. 

“You alright to drive?”

“Oh, yeah,” He nods. “You barely got that beer open, anyway.”

“Fuck you,” You laugh, shoving his shoulder. Don doesn’t get far, just leans back in and gives you a warm, slow kiss.

“Rain check?” He murmurs.

“Sure.” 

You disentangle yourselves, and you straighten your shirt as you trail him to the door.

“Be careful out there, Eppes.”

“I will be,” He shoots you a wink. “You gonna be up long?”

“I can be.”

His smile widens into something dopey and warm, and he nods, promising, “I’ll call.”

[gabrielokun]

[rora-s]

The Derivative Chapter 15: Seventeen

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 14

I came trudging into my uncle's office and threw my backpack down in his chair. The three men within the office gave me a concerned look. “Trouble adapting to college life?” Charlie inquired.

I let off a breath leaning on the desk “college students are better but no less annoying than high schoolers” I declared “I just talked to a girl in one of my classes who asked and I quote ‘are you visiting on a high school field trip?’” I mocked the girl's squawky voice.

Don chuckled slightly “well you are sixteen. Not a lot of kids your age running around these halls”

“She sees me every other day in our class. She borrowed my pencil once” I exclaimed indignantly.

“Ah it seems this fair student was wrapped in her own world to the point of tuning the rest out” Larry declared.

“Yeah or she’s just an asshole” I muttered then glanced at the computer screen on the desk “is that some kind of code?”

“Yes it’s a rolling code for a car remote” Charlie explained, holding up the remote in question in his hand. “It’s actually part of a kidnapping case”

“Kidnapping?” I questioned.

Don sighed and shot his brother a look “yeah it’s a case we’re working.”

I nodded, resisting the urge to ask if I could help. Just then my phone alarm went off. “I have class” I sighed, turning off the alarm and grabbing my backpack.

“I’ll walk with you,” Don offered. I nodded and waved farewell to Charlie and Larry as we exited the office. We only got a couple feet from the door before Don was talking again “so your birthday is this weekend.”

“What? Really? I had no idea” I replied sarcastically.

Don scoffed “I was just wondering if you wanted to do anything? I mean just me and you could hangout or we could have a barbecue at the house with everybody. Whatever you want” he shrugged.

“Uh yeah a barbecue would be cool” I murmured the grip on my backpack tightening a bit.

“You sure?” Don asked. I glanced over to see him looking at me with mild concern in his features.

“Yeah fine” I assured him as we reached the door to my classroom “it’s just…” I hesitated “don’t worry about it it's nothing”

“Okay” Don nodded “have fun on your field trip” he teased.

“Ha ha very funny” I muttered a small smile on his face. He turned to leave and I ducked into the classroom. There was a sinking feeling in my gut and another feeling that I couldn’t quite place and didn’t really like.

________________

3rd POV.

“And no, no contact, in almost seven hours” Don murmured looking at the board set up in the war room. “What the hell are they after?”

“I still think Erica Logan has to be the key” Megan declared standing up as Don began to pace the room. “This kind of radical shift in behavior? There has to be some sort of trigger.”

“Trigger?” David questioned from his seat “like what?”

“I can tell you what a textbook would say,” Megan explained. “Statistically, it’s things like a near-death experience. A person can exhibit an extreme shift in behavior if they survived a plane crash. Another could be a person who’s told they only have a month to live, may act on fantasies of an alter ego.”

“Doesn’t fit, though in this case” Colby objected. “The autopsy would have flagged that.”

“All right, so what else?” Don inquired leaning on the table.

“Uh, parental instinct” Megan offered “the perception of a serious threat to a child.”

“That also doesn’t fit” Colby spoke up again “I mean, her father said she doesn’t have kids, right?”

Don thought about his talk with the man for a second and the pictures in the house realization hitting him “but there was a brother, right?” he asked, gesturing to David who had also been there for the interview “the old man said she practically raised him.”

“Yeah,” David nodded in agreement, sitting up in his seat.

“A younger sibling could be the trigger, if they had developed that kind of relationship” Megan agreed.

“Younger brothers can definitely be a trigger, trust me on that one” Don stated with an edge of humor before going back to business mode turning to David “why don’t you go talk to the old man see if you can get an address on the son.” the agent nodded and started grabbing his things “I mean, I want to get everything we can on this kid, right?”

Colby grabbed his things and followed David out of the room. When it was just them Megan turned to Don. “Speaking of parental instincts, how's that daughter of yours doing?”

“Abby? She’s fine” Don shrugged.

“Really? I mean it can’t be easy being a sixteen year old kid in college” Megan voiced.

Don scoffed “she complains less about it than she did about high school so” he shrugged.

“Well since she’s in a house full of men. Why don’t you tell her if she ever needs a woman’s advice she can have my number” Megan offered.

“Thanks” Don smiled at his partner before she turned and left. Don shifted some files and thought a bit to himself. He’d never thought about it before but Abby was constantly surrounded by guys. The only female influence in her life right now that he could think of was Amita. Was that why she had been so weird about the barbecue?

Don doubted it. Maybe he was just coming to weird conclusions. Maybe the barbecue wasn’t even an issue and she was just preoccupied with the class she was about to walk into when he asked. No, she had a look on her face that told him she wasn’t happy about something. He just had no idea what and now he had to figure it out.

As he turned to leave the board caught his attention again. Parental instincts could change behavior. He thought that was a bit of an understatement.

_______________

Abby POV.

“Oh come on Charlie it couldn’t have been that bad.” Alan objected from the kitchen as the mathematician sulked at the dining room table.

“Actually, I truly can’t explain how awful it was,” Charlie muttered as Alan came out and sat a mug of hot tea down in front of his son and two plates of cake, one for him and one for me.

“Oh, I don’t understand it.” Gramps grumbled “You and Amita. You always got along so well.”

Charlie shrugged “I’m just as confused as you are”

“Yeah well, maybe it’ll be better next time, hmm?” Alan suggested as I just ate my cake and read quietly.

“Yeah, I don’t think there’s going to be a next time in the future” Uncle C sighed as my father entered the house through the front door.

“No, no, you do not give up.” Alan objected. “You never give up”

“Who’s giving up what?” Don inquired.

“Charlie. He blew his first date with Amita” Gramps informed.

“And he’s being very pouty about it,” I added, earning me a small glare from my uncle.

“I wouldn’t say that I- I blew it, Dad or that I’m pouting” the professor objected. “I mean that’s…” he trailed off as Alan gave him a look “yeah, maybe I blew it.”

“And are pouty” I chimed in and got another half hearted glare.

“Wait, what happened, buddy?” Don asked, shedding his coat.

“It’s just we found out that we really don’t have much to talk about outside math” Charlie explained as Gramps got to his feet.

“And you can’t talk about math because?” I questioned.

“Well it’s our work and we want to talk about more than just work” Charlie muttered.

“Oh, man.” Don sighed “Yeah, I know about that. Maybe it’s an Eppes thing you know? When Terry and I started dating, the first thing we said was we weren’t going to talk about work, right? You know, not a word.”

“Don’t say it’s an Eppes thing cuz that curses me too” I complained.

“Hey last I checked your last name was still Calvin so you get exempt” Don pointed out.

“So, how’d you work it out?” Alan inquired, handing his eldest the beer he had just retrieved from the kitchen. “With Terry?’

“Well, I mean, she’s back with her ex but..” Don murmured.

“That’s really very encouraging,” Charlie grumbled sarcastically.

“I didn't mean it like that” Don objected with a slight chuckle “I’m sorry. It’s different with you guys. You’ll work it out.” Charlie just let off a breath. “Meanwhile, I’m hitting a wall with this case.”

“You haven’t found them yet?” Charlie inquired.

“Found who?” Alan asked as Don headed back into the foyer to grab his file off the table.

“A mother and her eight year old daughter, kidnapped.” Don informed heading into the living room with his file.

“That’s horrible,” Alan declared.

“This is the same case with the car key code thing?” I asked.

“Yeah” Charlie replied with a nod as the three of us stood to follow Don into the living room. I brought my book and slice of cake with me.

“Who took them?” Gramps questioned.

“I don’t know yet” Don explained sitting on the couch “I mean, we got this one suspect who’s a bookie, and we think there’s some connection, but we got these files off his computer, and they’re impossible to analyze”

“What are you looking for in here?” Charlie questioned, going to look over the file Don offered him as I sat on the couch next to my father. .

“Well, I mean, the people who financed the operation.” Don explained “this guy’s been running bets through a website called Statswire that dead-ends at a URL in China. And with all the money he’s pulling in and paying out, we can’t tell the difference between the backer and bettors.”

“Well these abbreviations may be names and dates” Uncle C suggested looking the file over “but the numbers in this column here 35-17-11” he muttered as Gramps went to look over his shoulder. “23-17-5, 24-12-3 ½? Yeah I’m assuming that they’re part of some sort of odds making, but they just appear to be at random and they can’t be.”

“You’re right. They’re not random” Alan voiced as I shifted my cake away from my thieving father.

“What are you talking about?” Don inquired.

“Where’s that paper?” Alan muttered standing up and going over to a stack of newspapers “this weekend’s football scores.” he stated grabbing the paper he was looking for and coming back over as we all huddled over the file to look. “Let me see. 35-17-11 here.” he pointed to the newspaper “the Packers beat the Vikings 35-17, and the spread was 11”

“Whoa,” Don murmured.

“Nice catch Gramps” I said with a slight smirk.

“Thank you. 23-17-5. That here, Niners in San Diego, five-point spread, right?” Alan found another “24 to 12 was the Jaguars over the Colts. Huh?”

“Let me see that” Don took the paper and looked it over.

“3 ½ was a ridiculous spread” Gramps commented “I took the Jaguars and made a hundred bucks”

“What, you have a bookie?” Don questioned his father in surprise.

“Busted,” I murmured.

“Should I have a lawyer present?” Alan replied.

“No, I’ll let you slide.” Don murmured looking back over the paper. As I chuckled lightly.

“Wait a minute. If this column is the point spread, I can use it to calculate the ratio of winners to losers” Charlie explained “and potentially trace the payouts and the money flow.”

“Yay teamwork” I murmured.

“Says the girl who sat there eating cake the entire time” Don pointed out. I just shrugged with a smirk.

_________________

3rd POV.

Don got out of his car with a sigh. He was relieved that she had at least thought to text him this time. As he made his way across the grass to his daughter she glanced up at him before her eyes became fixated on the ground.

He sat down next to her in front of the head stone. After a moment of silence he finally spoke “what’s wrong?”

“Why do you assume something’s wrong?” Abby replied, still not looking up at him and she fiddled with her blinders in her hand.

“Because I know you well enough now to know when something’s bothering you” he replied softly. Abby shifted but didn’t speak. “You know if you don’t want to have a party or something for your birthday that’s fine. It’s okay if you don’t even want to celebrate it but I’d like to know why” he explained.

“It’s not that I don’t want to celebrate it” Abby objected. “It’s just-” she took a shaky breath “I suddenly have people to celebrate with and I’ve never had that before because-” she cut off.

“Because what?” Don encouraged.

She took another deep breath “last year we sat here and I told you how much I love and miss my mom now I’m sitting here and- and I’m just mad at her. I’m mad because she didn’t tell you about me. Didn’t let us meet sooner because I spent nearly sixteen years of my life not knowing you, or Grandpa, or Uncle C and because I want to have that stupid barbecue with you guys and I wish I could have had that sooner but-” Abby cut off again and tears rolled down her cheek. “I’m never going to see her again and all I am is mad at her”

Don wrapped a gentle arm around Abby pulling her closer. “Listen Abby, the last year of my life spent with you has been an incredible time. We’ve gotten to know each other and despite some preconceived notions I haven’t managed to screw up being a dad too bad. Right?” Abby scoffed at the last statement, sniffing back her tears. “That said I was a very different person years ago when I met your mother. And the truth is I don’t know if I could have been the father I would have wanted to be to you all those years ago. Heck I’m not even sure I’m the father I want for you right now.” he bit his lip pausing before he continued “not having you in my life all these years… it hurt and when I found out honestly I was mad too but- but I know your mother loved you Abbs and she only did what she did. She only kept this secret because she loved you and she thought it was the best for you.”

“I know,” Abby sighed.

“And now we do have each other and the rest of my crazy family,” he muttered, making her laugh a little. “It’s me and you kid and I’m not going anywhere”

“Thanks dad” she murmured sniffing back tears “but I’m still mad”

“I know,” Don murmured, pulling Abby into a hug “but I’m sure you’ve been mad at your mom before. She can take it and one day you’ll figure out how to forgive her, trust me.”

Chapter 16 ->