#don eppes x reader

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Men I’ve Always Meant to Write for Masterlist

A little collection of the blorbos that have often been on my mind, but rarely been in my WIPs. Better - Don Draper x Reader

The Starlight Room - Don Draper

Multitudes - Don Eppes x Reader

The Other Half - Bale!Bruce Wayne x Reader

More Than Enough - Harvey Specter x Reader

Wicked Game - Daniel Le Domas x Reader

[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.

[20th-centu-fairy-girl]

Alright I got a lil brain nugget and I'm here to bother you with it that is, shockingly for once, not Journalist!Reader

Don and Co are staking out someone's house from a vacant apartment across the way

They all keep smelling incredibly tasty meals coming from the apartment beside them, and Don becomes obsessed. He spots the resident a time or two, and he thinks that she's cute, but considering the circumstances, he can't really do anything

Case ends, Don moves on, gets set up on a date, which is a cooking class

Pasta making, specifically

Don is doing his best to focus on his date, but he just can't because his instructor is the woman who was in the apartment next to their stakeout spot

And he knows he's coming off as such a dick to his date, but he can't help it. She's even cuter up close and he's so, so distracted

Okay so he had to be talked into the date in the first place. He's not a pasta-making-on-the-first-date kinda guy but it's been a while and it's been a slow week so he goes.

And he can't quite place her at first, doesnt get why she seems familiar. The recipe has been explained to them, the dough is resting and Don is doing his utmost to be charming.

And then he smells the sauce. The sauce. And damn if he doesn't become the rudest guy in there. His date doesnt get a look in the moment that light bulb goes off.

So he's in a flour covered apron, his date is long gone and he's coming up with a reason to linger at his bench top as the class empties.

[kinfanfiction]

Charlie Eppes x Fem!Reader - Chapter 1 - Can’t Face Her

A/n: I absolutely had to write this. I am invested in Numb3rs and I am dedicating this to it’s small fandom because there’s truly not enough Charlie x Reader fics out there. I love Charlie and this is my favorite role that I’ve seen David Krumholtz in. Anyways I went with the two comments on my opinions needed post and with the reader staying near Charlie rather than moving away. We’ll be starting off with before season 1 starts. The reader convinces Charlie to visit his mother before she passes. Enjoy the angst! 

P.S. I stated this when posting my Bernard fic, but I know it’s not likely a lot of the same people that read that will read this and vise versa; I am 100% willing to edit and repost this for NB and Masc readers!! (Not that I even use pronouns or gendered terms that much because 2nd person is helpful in that way, but for the times I do I’d like to make my fics more gender inclusive by making more copies of them with different sets of pronouns!)

     Not long after the Eppes found out that Margaret had been diagnosed with stage four cancer, after they told all family, you and your parents were the first friends to know. You had noticed something was going on with Margaret when you’d gone to visit their house the past few times, and now you finally knew what. While Alan and Don stayed at her side, you went to get them groceries so they didn’t have to step away for even a second. You put away the groceries and peeked into Alan and Margaret’s bedroom where she lay, and your heart shattered at the sight. The state of her had gotten much worse since the last time you visited. 

     Margaret was like a second mother to you, she’d watched you many times as a child when your parents couldn’t. Seeing her like this wasn’t easy. You knew she’d refused chemotherapy, in spite of Alan’s wishes. She didn’t want to suffer the pain of treatment on top of the pain she was already fighting. Deep down, she knew she wasn’t going to survive this. She seemed strangely at peace with this, though no one else was. You kneeled at her bedside and gave her a soft smile as tears pricked your eyes. She returned the smile. “Hey, Margaret... how are you feeling?”

     “The best anyone can when they’re dying.” She gave a shrug and chuckled dryly. “Darling, I’m with my family, minus one member, I’ll be alright.” She assured, grabbing your hand. Her “Minus one.” Comment made you realize Charlie wasn’t there, and you hadn’t seen him when you walked in. You knew what that meant. You sighed and kissed Margaret’s hand before getting up to find your best friend. 

     “Charlie!” You shouted as you approached the shed where the young man always hid when he couldn’t handle his grief. He channeled it into an impossible math equation that had never been solved. He knew it would lead to no end, and that was the point. A permanent distraction. Unfortunately, it was never permanent, and made his overall grieving process more painful as a result. You slid the wooden door open and stepped inside to see exactly what you’d expected to. Blackboards were put up at every angle available within the shed, and Charlie was scribbling equations onto them with a concentration fueled by emotions you knew were related to his mom’s illness. 

     “Charlie...” You spoke his name again, quieter now, and with a hint of despair. “You can’t hide in here forever. I know it’s hard but you have to come out of here.” He just ignored you and kept scribbling. The squeaking of the chalk on the blackboards was beginning to bother you more with each second. You knew words weren’t going to do anything, so you grabbed his arm and made him turn around. He gave you a frustrated look, or at least tried to, but sadness shone in his eyes. 

     “Not now Y/n, I’m in the middle of an important calculation.” You furrowed your eyebrows and snatched the chalk out from his hand. 

     “Screw your calculations!” You exclaimed with frustration, but then you quickly calmed your tone. “Charlie... I know this is hard for you.. But I also know you’ll regret not spending this time with your mother.” You tugged on his arm to get him to look away from his work, and when he looked at you, he looked angry. 

     “I need to focus! And- and you’re distracting me!” He yelled, pulling his arm away from you. You were surprised, because he hardly raised his voice, and especially not at you. “I need you to go, I have work to do.”

     “Oh, come on Charlie you know this equation is pointless-”

     “I said go!” He yelled louder. He hardly let you get a word in. You knew you weren’t going to get anywhere with this argument, so you huffed and left. 

     Over the next couple months, you visited frequently, bringing food and comfort into the Eppes home. Your parents came too when they could. Every time you’d visit, you popped in to check on Charlie, who was working on the same equation. You always tried to say something to encourage him too see his mother, but he just brushed you off and kicked you out. It hurt, to say the least, but you knew his dismissive nature had nothing to do with you. He was in pain, and he refused to acknowledge it. 

     Eventually, it came down to Margaret’s final days. You knew it was now or never, so you went into the shed and took off the headphones he had been wearing, took the chalk out of his hand, and turned Charlie to make him face you. Deep down, he was glad you did. He hated how he’d pushed you and his family away, but he hadn’t been ready to feel the full effects of his grief. “Charlie. I know you hate this as much as the rest of us, but please. I’m begging you. Leave this shed, leave your work behind, and come see your mom. A future version of you will be glad you did.” He looked at you with an unreadable expression, first seeming frustrated, then confused, then his face dropped completely, and you could see tears forming in his eyes that quickly began to fall. You quickly wrapped your arms around him and let him sob into your shoulder until he was ready to speak. 

     “I can’t... I can’t face her. I’m scared. I don’t want to believe she’s dying. I know she is, I just.. Oh god, Y/n. My mom is dying. I c-” Then he burst into more sobs, and your heart continued to shatter, like every piece in your chest was just determined to continue breaking off into smaller pieces until your heart was just a pile of sand. “She has always been so strong, lifted me up when I was weak, I don’t think I can be the strong one.”

     You shook your head and gently ran your fingers through his curly hair to calm him. “You don’t have to be. If anyone needs to be strong, I’ll do it. Your family is like my second family, I will be here with you all, my parents will come visit. We’ll be the strong ones, we’ll help you all through this. Your mom wants you by her side. I know it’s easier to be here, surrounded by something familiar and comfortable, but you’ve got to escape what’s comfortable and be with your family. They need you.” 

     “No, they don’t need me. They’ll be okay if I stay here.” He spoke, trying to convince himself there was truth in his words.

     “They do need you. I promise you they do. This impossible equation is not what's important now. Come see her, just for a little bit. As long as you can handle.” Charlie didn’t respond for a long moment. He was regulating his breath and trying not to cry again, and you continued holding him, not letting go until he did. 

     He took another deep breath before speaking, “Okay. I’ll try.. I love my mom, I do, I just-”

     “I know. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Let’s go.” You led him out of the shed and the two of you walked back into the house, and on the way there, he grabbed your hand and held it tight. 

     You stepped into the master bedroom and Margaret’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Y/n. Thank you for bringing him.” She smiled, and Charlie knelt at her side, grabbed her hand, and then he couldn't help it, he just cried. Don noticed and knelt beside him, giving him a side hug as they both looked at their mother. Alan was knelt beside her on the other side of the bed. You stood in the doorway, and with all her boys at her side, she beamed at you and mouthed another ‘Thank you.’ She looked tired, yet content. You nodded, blew her a little kiss and left. They needed this. Just the four of them. 

     The next morning, your parents shook you awake to inform you that Margaret had passed away peacefully in the night. Your heart dropped, but you knew that Margaret at least got to see her husband and both sons one last time, and once she had that, she was ready to go. You got ready and ran over to see the Eppes, your parents following behind you. Margaret’s body had already been taken away, and all three men still stood around her deathbed. Don was holding onto his brother, with Alan wrapping himself around both of them. Then they let go as you and your parents walked in. Your father gave Alan a hug, your mother gave Don a hug, and you gave Charlie a hug. You all cried. Once all immediate tears had been shed, you sat around in the living room and talked about the wonderful woman you’d all had the pleasure of knowing while she was alive. Alan told the most stories. You held onto Charlie’s hand the whole time, making sure he knew you were supporting him.

     After a while of talking, you and your parents cooked lasagna, Margaret’s favorite. You had to make sure the family was still eating. You knew grief made people lose their appetite, it had happened to you before. You sat around and talked some more, but not long after dinner begun Charlie got up from the table and went up to his room. You followed soon after. You opened the door to find him exploding into uncontrollable sobs. You ran over to sit beside him and wrap him up in your arms. “You’re right. I should’ve spent more time with her. I’m such an idiot, and now she’s gone-” You quickly shushed him to shut down his spiraling. 

     “Shhhh, Charlie, it’s good that you saw her when you did. She was holding on for you, when you showed up, she finally felt ready to pass on because she had all the most important people in her life at her side. Don’t regret the time you spent away from her, be kind to yourself for spending what time you did with her. Charlie she loved you, she understood why you needed to be away. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” You assured him softly, and he couldn’t find the words to respond, but your words consoled him, and he calmed down again. “Let’s go back downstairs and finish eating dinner, alright?” He considered just hiding away in his room for the night, but knowing you would be sitting beside him made him feel more prepared to go back to the table. 

     The rest of the night felt calm, but the heavy air in the room still weighed on you all. Your parents went home, but you decided to stay, because you wanted to look after the grieving family. Your parents came back later to bring you an overnight bag, and you dressed in your pajamas and got ready for bed before lying down in the guest bed. You laid awake for a while, thinking about Margaret being gone, and the state in which you’d seen the Eppes that you knew would last. As you thought quietly about all the sweet moments you’d had with the woman over the years, you heard a knock on the door. “Come in!” You hollered. Charlie creaked the door open and saw that you were laying in bed, and assumed he’d interrupted you trying to sleep.

     “Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t realize I- I’ll let you sleep.” He quickly began to close the door.

     “Charlie, I know none of us are sleeping at a normal hour tonight. Come in.” You insisted. He paused for a moment, then nodded and quietly slipped into the room and sat down beside you. 

     “There’s nothing I really want to talk about right now, I just didn’t want to be alone.” You nodded and scooted over to make more space for him to lay beside you, and he did. You both laid side by side on your backs, staring at the ceiling in silence. It reminded you of all the nights you’d spent at each other’s houses, staying up and talking about anything you could think to discuss. Though this time, no words could convey what you both felt. After a while, you heard him begin to snore, and soon you drifted off as well. 

[fandomsandwritings]

Masterlist

Some of these links are from my main blog but they are my writings! Thank you! 

And I do take requests so just send me a message! 

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Unholy (FemaleReader)

Part 1

Part 2 

Distant (GenderNeutral) 

I Won’t Say I’m in Love (Coming Soon!)

Numb3rs

Don Eppes x Reader

Still Rocking Your Hoodie (FemaleReader)

Hawaii Five-0

Steve McGarrett x Reader

You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’ (GenderNeutral)

Gender Reveal (FemaleReader)

The Rookie

Lucy Chen x Tim Bradford 

Kind of Friends

Updated July 3, 2021

also I have a side blog for One Chicago so here’s the link for that masterlist! 

One Chicago Masterlist 

[unsocialized-nerd]

Still Rocking Your Hoodie

Pairing: Don Eppes x Reader

A/N: I’m rewatching Numb3rs and I’m obsessed with Don bc damn that man is fine but anyways this was inspired by the song Hoodie by: Hey Violet

“Charlie are you sure about this?” Don asked suddenly very concerned “Yes Don the math doesn’t lie.” Charlie stated getting sick of people always asking if it was right “Why Don? What’s Wrong?” David asked noting the change in his demeanor “I know that address.” Don knew the way to her house by heart and soon enough they were pulling into her driveway. Don and David walked up to her front door and went to knock when they noticed the front door was already open. Drawing their guns they went into the house. “Y/N. It’s Don. Are you here?” Don asked as they made entry already having a feeling they weren’t going to get an answer. “Okay we’re clear.” David said as they put their guns away and started surveying the house. Don walked into her bedroom and looked around, noticing the old sweatshirt sitting on her bed. Picking it up he noticed you never replaced the broken zipper or the patched up the holes where the material had worn too thin. “Don you need to look at this!” David yelled from the kitchen Don walked in still holding the ratty hoodie in his hands. David wanted to ask what was going on but decided to get away. “Back door was open and there’s blood on the floor but it doesn’t look like anything fatal. The kettle was still on the stove boiling with water in it so-” “We just missed them.” Don said interrupting him. “Yeah,” was all David managed to get out, “There’s more going on here isn’t there?” David finally asked “She’s my ex.” Don said not giving too much away. Not wanting to say that she was the only girl he was ever sure he loved completely. That she was the one that got away. And how it was killing him that she was now missing.

Charlie was explaining whatever math he was going to use to find her but Don wasn’t listening. He was thinking about everything he did wrong in the relationship. They had a really good thing. He was hopelessly in love with her and vice versa. From her point of view, he ended the relationship suddenly. Said he didn’t love her anymore and moved on. But that wasn’t the whole story. The whole story being that her life was threatened multiple times because of his job and one time was too close and he just couldn’t handle her getting hurt because of him. He thought it was best to end things and she’d eventually move on to a new man who wasn’t putting her life at risk every time he went to work. It had been almost a year and he hadn’t dated anyone since. And judging by his old hoodie still on her bed, she hadn’t either. Maybe if he hadn’t ended things he would’ve been able to prevent this. She wouldn’t be living by herself. She wouldn’t have gotten hurt. But her couldn’t think like that, not right now. Right now, he had to focus on finding her. Don started to focus back on the team strategizing but the room was completely silent. “What?” He said because they were all staring at him “We know where she is Don.” Colby said “Well than why are you guys just standing around, let’s go.” He said standing up and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

They pulled up outside the abandoned warehouse with S.W.A.T. and other agents. Don explained the plan to everyone and they made their way around the building before going inside. There was minimal struggle as they barged into the warehouse. One of them took off running but Don decided someone else could chase after him. “Y/N!” Don yelled out hoping you were there and you were still live. “Don is that you?” a weak voice yelled from a corner. Don ran over to the small room she was being held in and broke open the door. And immediately she started crying. “Hey, it’s going to be alright. I’m right here.” Don said while squatting down to untie her hands and feet. As soon as she was untied, she grabbed on to Don and held on for dear life. “Hey you’re fine. It’s fine.” He said while holding her head to his chest and helping her to stand up. As they walked out of the building, Don put his jacket around her and led her to the ambulance.

It was almost a week later when Don heard a knock at his door. When he opened the door Y/N was standing there. “Hey I wasn’t expecting to see you.” Was all Don managed to say “Oh well I wanted to return this.” She said while holding out his FBI jacket he’d given her at the scene. “Well thanks,” there was a pause “Hey come in for a second, I have something of yours.” She walked into his living room while he went into his bedroom, returning a few seconds later with the hoodie he found at her house. “It seems you have a thing for my jackets” He said with a chuckle “Well it was all I had of you when you left. It was always my favorite of yours even with the stupid broken zipper.” She said while staring at her feet, their break-up being an awkward topic. “Why do think I left it?” Don said and she just looked up at him confused. “I never gave you the real reason as to why I left.” Don then went into the concerns he had about her safety and all the close calls she never knew about, “But I was so worried about you getting hurt through my job that it didn’t occur to me that I could be better at keeping you safe because of what I do not until today anyway. If I never left maybe I could’ve prevented everything that happened to you.” “Don, you can’t blame yourself. If it hadn’t been for you, things much worse than them just tying me up could’ve happened. You’re great at your job but you carry too much on yourself, always have.” There was silence. “But Don I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and if the only reason we broke up is because you were worried about my safety then that’s stupid. I understand you Don, you haven’t always been the best at talking but with what we have, I just don’t get why you wouldn’t have told me.” “Have? Present tense?” was all Don said “What?” she said confused “You said “with what we have” you’re talking about us in the present tense.” “Yes Don, just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean there isn’t anything still here. I was completely and helplessly in love with you. It absolutely destroyed me when you left. And no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t hate you. I think subconsciously I knew there was more to it but I was in too much pain to try and figure that out.” “I’m sorry” Don was never a man of many words “I’ve been seeing a therapist.” He said after a pause “Ok and?” “And I’m better at talking. At trusting. Y/N I want to try again with you. You are the love of my life and it took everything in me to not come running back to you. Back then I wasn’t good at relationships. I was good at leaving. So when I realized that I was putting your life at stake I didn’t know how to deal with it. Leaving was easier than dealing with my feelings. I know that doesn’t make up for what I did but do you think there is even a chance you’ll have me back?” There was silence She stood up on her tip-toes and kissed him “We’ll see” she said with a smirk as she turned and walked out Don’s apartment. Leaving him with a smirk on his face and maybe a little twinge of hope in his heart.

[geminiimagines]

Having Charlie as a boyfriend would include...

The best boyfriend ever

He will support you in anything that you do 

Lots of late night chats about math, or just life in general 

Charlie trying to get you into math (if you’re not already)

Lots of nose kisses

Date nights often include staying late CalSci 

Dinner with his family 

Oh, you’re feeling down? He just happened to have your favorite coffee or tea. 

He won’t outright spoil you, but who could on a teacher’s salary? Charlie will  buy your favorite book if ask 

He’ll take you stargazing for a date talk about how the stars formed. 

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Risk Assessment

Don Eppes x Reader

Words: 3844

Part Two of Three

Summary: As your feelings for each other push boundaries you’d both set for yourselves a long time ago, Don distances himself during a tough case and you have to decide if your relationship is worth the risk.

Notes: I know it’s been a minute, but I haven’t forgotten about my Don fans out there (we are few, but we are powerful haha) I love this show and the brother dynamic and Don’s emotional complexity is just so fun to write. I will hopefully have the last part up at some point soon. 

More Don: HERE 

-

You took the stairs two at a time, heart beating out of your chest, and mind reeling. You didn’t hear the nurses asking you if you needed help over the panic in your head. All the news said was that there was a shootout between a suspect and FBI agents. Many casualties, including one agent in critical condition. 

So when Megan called you that he’d be here, you’d almost gotten sick waiting in traffic. How she’d known to call you, you hadn’t given much thought to. 

By the time you reached the right floor, you couldn’t breathe, your eyes were blurring with tears, and your legs wanted to give out. But you kept going. 

Doctors rushed by with a gurney and all you saw was the blood. 

You started to follow them. 

He found you first. 

Don put one hand on your shoulder to stop you from rushing after the gurney and one hand on your cheek to bring your eyes to his. 

“Don,” you sobbed, shaking your head and blinking away tears, worried he’d be gone when you looked again. “I thought- I hadn’t heard anything and I-”

“I’m okay, baby. See?” He motioned to the bandaged cut on his forehead. “I’m fine. Just take a deep breath for me, sweetheart.” 

“Oh my God,” you threw your arms around his neck. “Thank God. I saw the news and I just knew you were there. I had this awful feeling and then Megan…” You trailed off, burying your face in his neck. 

Don nodded. “Megan told me she called you, but your connection got cut off.” He pulled back to kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry for worrying you, but I’m okay. I promise.” 

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffed, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “I should have waited. Instead, I barged in here like, well, like the FBI.” 

He led you over to some chairs where you could both sit, not letting go of your hand. From around the corner, Megan came with a pair of coffees from the cafeteria, stopping when she saw the two of you. She ducked back behind the corner before either of you saw. 

“You’re really okay?” You asked, fingers grazing the wound on his head. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I got pushed out of the way by…” His eyes followed the trail of doctors hurrying with the person you’d seen before. “Her name’s Anderson. Took a bullet to the neck.” 

“Jesus.” 

“Worst part is, the guy got away.” His grip on your hand tightened. “This sicko that’s been shooting people in broad daylight and we almost had him and he still got away.” 

He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the hall. 

A silence fell between you as you calmed down and his shoulders tensed. Finally taking a deep breath, you sighed. 

“Don, I’m so sorry.” 

He let go of your hand. “It’s not like you pulled the trigger.” Don ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “You know, you really aren’t supposed to be here and I think I’ve freaked you out enough for the night, huh? Why don’t you go back to your place and I’ll meet you there?”

You were taken aback, but not totally surprised. When it came to stuff like this, your boyfriend wasn’t the most open. But, then again, neither were you. It was something you had in common- bottle it up and hope it doesn’t burst. 

“Yeah, okay.” You stood, kissing the top of his head. “I can make something up for you, if you want? I think I’ve still got some of that pasta you liked. I can throw it in the microwave.”

“That’d be great, actually.” He tilted his chin up, pulling your lips to his for one more kiss. “I’ll call if anything else happens, okay? And I promise, if the connection goes bad, I won’t leave you hanging.” 

“I’ll hold you to that, Agent Eppes.” You kept looking back at him as you left as if waiting for him to call you back. But he didn’t. So you left.

Now with the seat open, Megan crossed the room to sit beside her team leader.

“So that’s the mystery woman,” she said, handing him the coffee. 

“Mystery woman?” He scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, for the past four months you show up to work with this big grin on your face and then this happens-”

“Speaking of which,” he interrupted. “What the hell were you thinking calling her? You know, it really freaked her out. She didn’t know what happened and she comes sprinting in here like, I don’t know, I’m dying. I hate doing that to her.”

“Don.” Megan shook her head. “You’re the one who told me to call her.” 

His brows furrowed. “What?”

“I mean, sure, you were kinda out of it from hitting your head, but you just kept saying, ‘Y/N. Call Y/N. I want to see her.’ So you gave me your phone and I called her,” she explained. 

Don leaned back in the chair, piecing together bits of fuzzy memory. He took a drink of coffee. 

“Huh.” 

Megan nodded, drinking from her own cup. “So you guys seem pretty serious.” 

“Megan…” He groaned. 

“I’m just saying, if she’s the one you’re asking for in your hour of need, it can’t just be a fling, right?”

“Isn’t it a crime to harass the guy with a head injury?” 

She opened her mouth to rebuttal, but both agent’s focus switched to the doctor approaching them. And from the looks of his expression, it wasn’t good. 

-

You heard more details on the news than you did from Don. In the days following the shooting, authorities were in an intense manhunt for a man named Pete Nicholsen, the lead suspect in a series of killings involving a hooded shooter in public places. 

Agent Anderson was paralyzed from the neck down. 

That, you heard from Megan. 

In fact, you hadn’t heard anything from Don in two days. 

It was Charlie who invited you over for dinner. He said things had been tense and that having some company might be nice, especially since you and his brother seemed to get along at the lecture. 

He told you he might be in the garage, so he left the door unlocked. But when you opened the door, it was the older Eppes brother you saw first. 

Don sat in the living room. While there wasn’t any light, you could tell it was him by the way he sat, leaned forward with a beer in his hand. Like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“Hey stranger,” you greeted softly. 

Don’s back straightened up and his head whirled around. 

“Hey.” A small smile graced his lips and he stood to meet you. “What are you doing here?” 

“Charlie invited me. He thought a guest would make dinner less… tense.”

“I see,” Don grunted, running a hand down his face. “So he still doesn’t know?” 

You shrugged. “I didn’t tell him. He just thinks we ‘get along.’”

“I wonder what gave him that idea,” he smirked, putting a hand on your cheek and pulling you in for a kiss. 

You sighed against his lips, melting into his touch. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it for two days. Thinking about how he was at the hospital. That same tension was there now, even as he kissed you. 

“Don,” you said, pulling away. “Are you okay? I know that there’s been a lot going on, but you kinda vanished on me and I’m not going to lie, I’ve been pretty worried. I mean, I have to learn everything from the TV and sure, I get that maybe you don’t want to talk about it but-”

“Honey, slow down,” Don sighed. He leaned against the back of the chair, nodding. “You’re right, I had to step back for a couple of days. With what happened to Anderson and then you showing up at the hospital thinking it was me, when it should have been me, I don’t know, there was just a lot going through my head I had to deal with, okay?” He took your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles, slowly going back and forth to calm you down. Or to calm him down. He couldn’t really tell. “But I’m back now, alright? You don’t have to worry.” 

Despite his reassuring words, the tone of his voice only increased your already growing concern. You remembered the gut-churning panic you’d felt when you thought he was the one in that hospital bed. You thought about every surge of electricity you felt spark in you whenever he smiled. Even now, the way he was looking at you, guarded and all, you still just wanted him to look at you for forever. 

This is what you were afraid of and yet you didn’t want it to stop. 

“Don, I-” You started but were cut off by the sound of footsteps. 

“Hey, Y/N, you’re here.” Charlie beamed. “Dinner’s almost ready.” 

With his brother’s eyes on you, you stepped away from Don to join Charlie in the dining room, letting those three terrifying words die on your lips. 

-

It was your turn to play the ‘dealing alone’ game. Not out of pettiness, but out of protection. While your heart was so full and your chest ached when he wasn’t around, your brain reminded you of all the reasons you hadn’t wanted to let things get this far to begin with. You told yourself a long time ago that nothing was worth the risk of getting hurt again. 

And all of it was because of a stupid four-letter word. 

The repetitive rattle of your fingers against the table helped tune out the rest of the cafe. Unfortunately, that included your lunch date.

“You okay there?” Megan asked with an amused smile. “You look like you just joined Larry in space for a second.”

“Sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I’ve just been thinking about a lot.” Sliding your empty plate aside, you eyed her curiously. “Like why you asked me to have lunch. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have a badass FBI best friend, but this just felt a little out of the blue.” 

“Alright, you’ve got me there,” she admitted. “Though I wouldn’t mind having a brilliant criminology professor in my back pocket whenever I want to remind the boys that this job isn’t all about running around with a gun.” 

You both laughed and you felt some of the weight on your chest lighten. 

She took a drink of her coffee. “There is something I wanted to ask you about, if it isn’t overstepping our budding friendship…” 

“You’re wondering about how I know your team leader.”

“No, I know about the class you teach with Charlie, and Don complained about his little guest appearance the whole week leading up to it,” she said. A smirk teased her lips. “I was more wondering why you two are keeping your relationship a secret.” 

Your mouth fell open and she laughed. 

“I read people for a living, remember?” She pointed out. “I had some suspicions, but when he kept asking me to call you when he had that head injury and you came running into the hospital like John Wayne, it pretty much confirmed what I thought.” 

“He asked you to call me?”

Megan nodded. “Oh yeah. You were all he could talk about when he was all loopy. It was pretty cute, actually.” 

You covered your growing smile with your hand, imagining Don doped up on pain meds and rambling about you to his co-worker. But then you remembered the circumstances and remembered who was really hurt that day. 

“So you figured it out,” you shrugged. 

She pointed a finger at you playfully. “And you haven’t answered my question.” 

“It’s,” you took a deep breath, “complicated.”

“With Don? Shocker,” she teased. 

You both finished your meals and paid. On the way out, she put a hand on your arm, giving you a smile that was somewhere between friendly and concerned.

“This job can be a lot to handle, especially when you're involved romantically with someone in the field,” she said. “And I know Don isn’t much of a touchy-feely kinda guy, but I think that you’ve been really good for him. I mean, I’ve really never seen him so happy. But, like I said, I know it can be a lot so if you ever want to talk, I’m around, okay?” 

You laughed. “Thanks, but I pretty much wrote the book on ‘emotional detachment.’ I think I can handle Agent Eppes.”

She lifted her hands in mock surrender. “Maybe that’s even more reason to talk to someone about it.” 

With a look that conveyed the phrase ‘just think about it,’ she went back to her car and you walked back to yours, trying your best to shrug off her ability to not only read you, but also the issues that you were starting to notice in a relationship she shouldn’t even know about. 

-

Charlie was in the middle of explaining to the class the ways equations can be used to track the spread of a bioterrorism attack when you saw him. You looked up from the notes you were taking and there he was. Standing outside the window. Waving at you. He looked like a normal guy. Nice haircut, clean clothes, new-looking backpack. But something about him seemed familiar. While you couldn’t place from where, something in your gut was telling you to not look him in the eye. 

No one else seemed to notice him and he was gone by the end of the lecture. Still, you couldn’t shake the unease from your nerves. 

“Earth to Professor Y/L/N,” Charlie teased, waving a piece of chalk in front of your face. “If you really thought it was that boring, you could have just said so.” He smirked and took a seat across from you. 

You looked around. The students had all left and you hadn’t even noticed. 

“It was really interesting, Charlie. I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I guess my head is just somewhere else.” 

“Yeah, you uh,” he nodded, “you’ve kinda seemed that way for a while. Is everything okay? If the class has too much to your plate, I can take over some more of the grading-”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You already do too much as it is.” You stood, packing your class notes into your briefcase and hugging it to your chest. “Besides, I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping well.” His concern only deepened so you came up with something more reasonable than dreaming about his brother choking on his own blood with a hole in his throat. “New neighbors. Probably just some partying college kids.” 

“Uhuh,” he hummed, narrowing his eyes. Whether or not he believed you, he didn’t press the issue. Charlie wasn’t exactly great when it came to emotions and, while it was deeply bothering him to see someone he liked to think of as a friend in a bad place, if it wasn’t solvable through math, there wasn’t much he could do. 

“Do you want to go grab some coffee?” You asked, hoping to change the subject. The last thing you needed right now was a line of questions that you weren’t ready to answer. 

“Coffee sounds perfect.” 

You were both halfway to the campus cafe when you heard the shots. At first, you thought someone had set off fireworks or something, but you remembered the man outside of the window. You’d seen him on the news. 

Pete Nicholsen.

-

He took the stairs two at a time, sprinting into the courtyard where campus security, police, and other FBI had already gathered, along with a whole audience of students and staff. Don didn’t give himself time to think. He just ran.

Don spotted Sinclair first, standing over the body of a woman with Y/H/C hair. She wore a blazer and had a briefcase busted open just a few inches away from her hand. He tried to calm his breathing as his mind went into a frenzy. 

The call was shots fired at Cal Sci. One casualty. Female. He only had one thought. 

What had he brought you into?

“Who is it?” He asked his fellow agent. 

“We’re looking for her I.D. in her things now,” David explained. 

“I need it now, damnit!” Don ran around to the other side, hoping to be able to see the woman’s face, and tried to prepare himself to see yours.  

“Agent Eppes!” A voice called from the crowd. 

He spun on his heel, frantically scanning the group of students. 

“Don!” 

He turned again and saw you. 

All of the breath in his lungs exhaled in a sigh of relief. He motioned to Colby that he’d be right back and rushed across the courtyard. It took every ounce of control he could muster not to pass the police line and pull you into his arms just to make sure you were really there. 

“Are you okay? Were you out here when it happened?” He asked, making sure to keep a step away to maintain his composure. “Where’s Charlie?”

“I’m fine. And he’s working with Larry to get a jumpstart into figuring out where this guy could have gone after he-” You caught a glimpse of the body through the crowd of law enforcement. “Oh my god.” 

“Hey, just look at me, okay?” He whispered. “Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart.” 

“Don.” You blinked, took a deep breath, and focused back on him. “Don, I saw him.” 

He froze, that same sinking weight in his chest coming back. “What?” 

“He was outside-” You ran your fingers through your hair, trying not to panic. “Nicholsen was outside of the classroom. With me and Charlie. He waved at me like he knew who I was.” 

Cal Sci. One Casualty. Female. 

“Okay,” he cleared his throat and nodded. “Okay, then I’m going to need you to come with me. And we should go get Charlie.” Don motioned to Colby and the others again, pointing in the direction of Charlie’s office. They continued investigating the crime scene. “This just got a lot more complicated.” 

He helped you push through the crowd, his eyes scanning every face expecting to see Nicholsen’s confident smirk looking back at him. Once out of the way of the scene, Don found a deserted hallway and let his barrier break. He locked you in his embrace, cradling the back of your head with his shaking hand. 

“I don’t have to tell you what I thought when I got that call,” he said against your shoulder. 

You rubbed your hand back and forth across his tense shoulders. “I guess we’ve traded places this week.”

Don pulled back. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be,” You looked at him and those dark eyes and nodded determinedly. “I want to catch this guy, Don.” 

“No.” He started walking toward his brother’s office. “You aren’t touching this case anymore. Neither is Charlie. This guy knows who you both are. I’m not giving him a chance to take another shot at you.” 

“You can’t be serious-”

“What do you think that is?” He shouted, spinning around and pointing back toward the courtyard. “It’s a message, Y/N. That is a warning shot. The next time, he isn’t going to miss and I can’t let that happen. I-” 

Three words lingered on his lips, brought out by the terrifying thought of losing you. 

Don swallowed hard and continued down the hall. “We have to go.” 

The truth was, he had two thoughts when he got that call.

Please not her. 

I love her. 

And it scared him to death. 

-

His apartment was dark. When you unlocked the door with the key he’d given you, it didn’t even look like he was home. But once you got into the living room, he was there like he’d been at Charlie’s place. Alone. In the dark. With a bottle of beer in his hand and a blank stare in his eyes. 

“Don?” 

He jumped, blinking up at you like you’d pulled him out of a trance.

“Hey. I didn’t even hear you come in,” he said. He sounded exhausted, but there was something else too. Something that worried you. 

“I looked over some data with Charlie. He thinks he might be able to figure out how to finally catch this son of a bitch.” You sat on the arm of the chair, rubbing his shoulders. 

He shrugged you away. “I thought I told you that you were both off the case.” 

You stood again, crossing your arms. “And you thought that was going to work?” You scoffed. “Have you met your brother?” 

Don set the bottle down on the side table so hard you thought it might break. 

“Damnit, Y/N, you saw the guy outside of your classroom,” he snapped. “He shot a woman on your campus that matches your description.” He stood too, looking you in the eye. “He’s still out there and you think this is a joke?” 

“Charlie isn’t going to hide, Don,” you fired back. “And neither am I. The quicker we find this guy, the quicker all of this is over, right?”

“It isn’t that simple.” 

“Don,” you sighed, reaching out for him again. This time, he didn’t pull away, but when your hand found his cheek, you recognized the look in his eye. 

Conclusion. 

“Donnie, what is this about?” 

He took a deep breath and gently took your hand away. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” 

You opened your mouth but found your throat had gone dry and the air had left your lungs. 

Don clenched his jaw to keep himself in control. Already, a voice in his head was screaming at him to stop, repeating those same two thoughts from before. 

Please.

I love her.

But that was exactly why he had to. He’d realized today how much he had to lose. And he couldn’t bear the weight pushing down on his chest. Maybe it was time to let it go. 

As the tear slipped down your cheek, he hated himself for the weakness that got him there. He couldn’t protect you. He wasn’t strong enough to face those emotions of panic and loss like he got a glimpse of today. You deserved someone who could hold you without thinking about everything going wrong. 

You didn’t say anything. You just went into his bedroom, grabbed a few of your things, and walked to the door, stopping to look back at the man you’d fallen so totally in love with and loved him all the same even though your heart was breaking. 

“I thought we were worth the risk, you know.” Was all you said before closing the door behind you. The apartment fell into a silence that seeped into his head. 

Don sat back down and stared into the dark. 

[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.”

[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.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Don never updated his emergency contact after the divorce. He didn't see the need; keeping it as her meant that his dad wouldn't be unnecessarily worried and even though he and Charlie were closer these days it's likely his kid brother would be absorbed in a math problem somewhere. So he just kept it as is, not that it ever got used, the only time he gets hurt is when he's with his team and they know not to bother calling for someone. So it doesn't change and it doesn't get used. No big deal.

But Journalist? She just forgot to change it. Honest to god actually forgot that he was listed. I mean, how often is a nosy journalist going to need their emergency contact dialled? It's a rarity and she's good at her job.

And the something happens, it might be work-related or just a wrong-place long-time scenario on a day off. But the number gets dialled.

And he's at work.

.....i may or may not have gone overboard with my response.

He's half-listening to both of them. Don's eyes are scanning the ground, the litter of bullet casings and the contents of a spilled purse as Charlie insists that this can help him narrow his parameters. Don's phone rings on his belt, interjecting. Don picks his phone up, eyes the contact—a number he doesn't know. He presses the red button before flipping it shut and replacing it on his belt as Charlie presses on,

"That being said, this instance may lend credence to your other theory—"

"The copycat," Don nods.

"But Charlie, I thought you said the chances of that were slim to none," Colby argues.

"Actually, I said the likelihood was 10,462 to 1, which is—"

The sound of Don's cell ringing punctures the conversation again. His brow furrows as he takes it up, spotting the same number and grudgingly answering, raising the phone to his ear.

"Eppes."

He's half-listening to both of them. Charlie is explaining the difference between slim to none and over ten thousand to one to Colby and Megan; the person on the other end of the phone is telling Don that there's been an incident. His brow furrows, his head tipping between Charlie and the phone before he finally holds his hand up, insisting, "Hold on, hold on," To both. He turns away from Charlie and Colby before they can ask and strides over to the edge of the crime scene.

His attention is still split. The edge of the crime scene has cops bustling, neighbors asking questions, reporters trying to muscle in on anything that they might overhear. But through the phone, Don's ears manage to hook on, accident, and bullet, and hospital—and his wife's name.

Ex-wife. His dad's voice practically leaps out in his mind as a cold panic runs over Don.

"I'll be right there."

His answer is automatic. He flips his phone, and for a moment, he can't move. His heart is thudding in his chest; his hands are sweating where they're gripping his phone; his ears are crowded with the scene around him. He has to move—

"Don?"

He jolts, turning to find Megan watching him, her brow furrowed. He clears his throat, looking down at his phone.

"I have to go."

"We've got it here."

Don nods, patting her on the shoulder before he ducks beneath the crime scene tape, walking over to his car. He can feel his team watching him. He'll explain later.

--

The drive there was good. It gave him some time to gather himself. But as he walks into the hospital, he feels that sense of calm that he's forced up begin to drop away. It falls even further when he's directed to her room and finds Walker outside.

"Lieutenant," He greets, drawing his attention.

"Eppes," The gruff man greets in turn as the two exchange a handshake, "This one of yours?" He asks, nodding toward his ex-wife's room. Don has to fight back a smart remark, his jaw going tight as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"What happened?" He asks.

"Way she tells it, she was interviewing a witness for a story, just happened to get caught in the crossfire of an unrelated drive-by. Wrong place, wrong time."

That's always what it is with her, isn't it. Don's not sure he can believe it anymore, not when it's landed her in the hospital.

"How bad was it?" It's a necessary question, though part of him doesn't want to know the answer. He's been imagining the worst possible scenarios on his way over.

"Through-and-through in her left side, pretty nasty graze on her thigh," Walker rattles off. "Wouldn't be surprised if they discharged her in a couple of days."

"You identify the shooter?"

"Not yet, but we have our suspicions."

Don nods, eyes straying toward the door as if she's going to fling it open; as if she's going to lean in the doorway, and grin, and ask him what the hell he's doing there.

"She was awake a few minutes ago," Walker prods when Don neither speaks nor moves. It's his cue, but Don isn't sure he wants to heed it.

"Thanks," he mutters, finally moving a few steps.

"You want me to keep you looped in on this one?"

"Uh..." Don's brow furrows. He's honestly not sure. Is knowing who did this going to help him sleep at night? Is it going to help her—?

"Yeah," He finally nods, meeting Walker's eyes once more before he turns the handle, pushing the door open.

The hospital room is bland and bright. The bed nearest to the door is empty, so Don walks further in, eyeing the closed curtain around her bed. As he's a step away, reaching up to draw the curtain back, he hears an annoyed groan, a tired, "Lieutenant Walker, I told you that I'd reach out if I remembered anything else."

Don draws the curtain back without a word, and watches as her eyes open, face twisted with annoyance before it falls at the sight of him. Her brow furrows, lips parting to question him—and then realization and mortification dawns. She groans again, raising her hand to hide her face from him. Don's eyes drift down, over the pulse oximeter on her finger, the IV in her arm, the hospital gown, the blanket drawn up around her middle.

"Fuck," Her mumble is muffled where her hands are still shielding her, "I'm sorry."

Don's brow furrows as he rounds the bed, sitting on the edge and gently grasping her wrists. He draws her hands down carefully, eyes searching her face.

"What are you sorry for?"

"They shouldn't have called you."

It's a gut-punch. Don swallows thickly, trying to dislodge the lump forming in his throat. She adds, "I meant to change that number, I just—It totally—I forgot." She turns a wary eye toward him. "What'd I pull you away from?"

"Don't worry about that," Don argues, shaking his head.

He wants to know what happened. He wants to drag it out of her, bit by bit. He wants to know where she was, why she was there, who the hell she was talking to, what she saw. But she looks so damn tired, and drawn—and as badly as he'd like to know, he's not sure either of them hjave it in them to have the conversation. So Don raises a hand, smoothing it gently over her cheek.

"Are you in any pain?"

She shakes her head, eyelids fluttering at the warmth of his hand.

"No," She mumbles, "They're giving me the good stuff."

His eyes drop to the IV again, and he forces a slight smile and a chuckle.

"That's good," He nods.

"...Don?"

"Yeah."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"You don't wanna talk about it, we won't. That's for you and Walker to hash out."

"...You're going to get all the details from Walker, aren't you."

"You should get some rest."

It's as good as a yes, and they both know it. She smiles a little hazily, sliding down in the bed, wincing as the movement seems to discomfort something. Don's gaze sweeps her again, as if whatever caused the pain will jump out at him. His eyes freeze on the blanket when she takes his hand in both of hers.

"Don?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad you're here."

It warms him through. He shifts closer, carefully maneuvering to cuddle up beside her, keeping his shoes off of the bed as he presses a kiss to her head.

"I am, too."

Her breathing is steady, and slow. The heart monitor's beeping is constant.

He's half-listening to both of them.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Hookay so I've just watched S1 E11 and there were two conversations about marriage that I just had to talk to you about because I feel they are important to Don & Journalist and I have no one else to scream into the void with.

1)

Don't tell me that Don doesnt immediately start thinking about his own ex wife here. The fact that they're sleeping together but arent together and hes wondering if he's holding her back.

2)

This is so close to what you said ages ago about Alan and Journalist talking after they announce the divorce. And in the scene it's just Alan & Charlie but Alan has to have a similar talk with Don in the lead up to signing the papers.

YES yes yes but also when it comes to Alan talking to Journalist about it, maybe she knows before Don that Alan and Margaret had those problems, and she either doesn't know that Don doesn't know, or she just...Holds it? Because she and Don are already going through enough crap, and if she was in a particularly vindictive mood—if they were in the middle of a fight? Oh, maybe it would sit on her tongue, but she would hold it. Because she and Don can go pretty low with one another, but that's just a step too far and she knows it.

When it comes to Don wondering if he's holding her back, I can see him not discussing it with her, just slowly pulling back. He's not going to ask because he knows her, and she'll say no (but on late nights, when he can't sleep and he's marking the rise and fall of her chest, he can't help but wonder—what if she says yes?). They spend fewer and fewer nights together, and Journalist just figures that Don is seeing someone else. He stops turning up at random, she stops inviting him over, and for a while they just fizzle.

Maybe Don does start seeing someone else; maybe Journalist does. Maybe it gets a little serious. And maybe after a long night, and a bad case, Don turns up at her place unannounced, seeking her comfort on auto-pilot, and before he gets out of the car, he catches the end of her good night kiss with another man.

And it shouldn't, but that confirms it for him. He doesn't know a damn thing about this guy; he doesn't know if it's their first date, their third date. He doesn't want to know. He just starts the car back up again and peels off without saying a word because she's not his anymore—

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

living next door to a suspect in one of Don Eppes' cases

Being questioned—about whereabouts, if you heard or saw anything strange the night in question.

Volunteering to snoop because you're nosy™, grinning when he chuckles because you've been flirting and you're pretty sure he's flirting, back

He stops in your doorway and tells you to keep out of trouble, that if you do, he's not bailing you out—"And c'mon, how long do you think you'd last in handcuffs?"

You shrug. "Last time was about two and a half hours."

He frowns, brow furrowing. "Last time? I thought you didn't have a record."

You blink and smile innocently. "I don't."

You see his brows raise, his mouth working wordlessly as he takes that in. You just grin, offer, "Take care, Agent," And close the door in his face.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

As I was on the cusp of sleep last night my brain decided to distract me with my favourite FBI agent.

Soooooo Alan is making his way to Journalist's place (he's dropping off a book he thinks she'd like, they still swap recommendations) and he notices a familiar looking car. No, he thinks; I'm just imagining things. He parks, goes to get out of the car and then his first born son walks out of the front door.

Fast-forward to that night; he's feeding the team again after an eventful case leaves them needing some home-cooked food. He says "can I get a hand in the kitchen" to Don who obliging follows.

"You're sleeping with your ex-wife?!"

"Gee dad, I don't think the neighbours down the street heard you."

Meanwhile Charlie, Amita, Larry, Megan, Colby, and David are all outside in the dining room and straining to either listen or leave like

The next time Don's over at his ex's, during the pillow-talk phase (because he sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up beforehand), Don's like, "...My dad knows."

And she's like, "Yeah."

"Yeah? The hell do you mean, 'yeah'? "

"He turned up for a book swap like one minute after you left last night. Looked like he'd seen a ghost."

"And you didn't think that was relevant information?"

"To what we do here? Not particularly. Seemed more like a mood-killer."

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

It's important to me that you know that your Don Eppes interrogation with his wife has been living rent free and on repeat in my head since you posted it.

So thanks for that 🙃

Oh my god listen it's been in mine, too

Don poking his nose into what she was brought in for out of 'curiosity' but really with the purposes of figuring out whoever it was because he knows it wasn't her

Don giving the lead agent on the case absolute hell, up to and including a shove and a, "Stay the hell away from my wife."

This news making it back to the ex-wife (via Amita, from Charlie, with Larry waggling his finger and offering, "I'm sensing some unresolved issues in that area." "Well, thanks for the sound analysis, professor." "You jest, but I am under the distinct impression that extricating ones lives and affairs from a former spouse can't be solved by merely signing a few papers." )

Don coming to Charlie and Alan's after a case, absolutely wiped, commenting that it smells vaguely like one of his ex-wife's recipes—only to have the ex-wife swan out of the kitchen with a dish and warning that he can't have any

Don seeing ex-wife with a baby neice or nephew, unable to help thinking, what if—

Don asking, "Do you ever regret it?", and the ex-wife asking, "The marriage or the divorce?"

Each of them running into one another on dates on separate occasions and putting on a brave face while they simmer with jealousy

this is technically all your fault, i hope you know that 😘

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Regarding that Don Eppes tag about being pulled over (I see you tempting me you menace) and I raise you:

"Morning Boss, the former Mrs Eppes is in interrogation." 👀

my brain went off i am so sorry

It's David that tells him. Don's step hesitates, jaw halting from its near-manic gum chewing as he meets David's grimacing gaze. His stomach is turning somersaults. First thing on a Monday morning, this is all he needs.

"Who the hell pulled her in?" He asks.

"Griggs, Organized Retail Crime task force."

Don hisses a swear under his breath. He shakes his sleeve back, peering down at his watch.

"We've got the witness coming in in, what...ten minutes?" He asks, and nods when David hums in confirmation. "Alright." He glances around at the interrogation rooms. "I'll be right there, I'm just gonna...Make a pit stop."

He doesn't wait for David's answer; he can only imagine the way Charlie, Colby, and Megan are watching as he winds his way through the office. He doesn't let it slow him down—until he catches sight of the back of her head. He swallows thickly. They haven't seen one another since they signed the papers. And now, like this...

He can still back out. He can still turn around.

Don shakes his sleeve back, eyeing the time on his watch again before he finally pushes himself forward, opening the door.

--

You glance back at the sound of the door, doing a double-take when you see who's come in. It's like a slap in the face, how good he looks. It's not fair. In the last year, you've spent so many sleepless nights wondering about him, worrying about him, wanting to reach out. But you just manage to speak before he can:

"You're not my lawyer."

He huffs, leaning against the wall across from you.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," You insist. "I was in the wrong place at wrong time."

"Just like our marriage?"

"Oo," You laugh bitterly. "Someone's in a good mood today. What's wrong? Colby make the coffee again?"

"What happened?"

"I was waiting for a source."

"That's all?"

"That's all." You search Don's face, tipping your head to the side. "Come on, you don't seriously think I'd do a fucking smash and grab for a drill bit."

"I don't know," He folds his arms. "You used to be very fond of your power tools."

You narrow your eyes slightly. "How would you know? You were never there to see me using them."

Don is quiet for a moment, his gaze darting over your head before he straightens up.

"Your lawyer's coming," He warns.

"Thank fuck."

"Keep out of trouble, I don't wanna see you in here again," Don warns as he heads for the door. You glance behind yourself, eyeing him.

"Don."

He goes still, hand resting on the doorknob.

"...Yeah."

"Happy anniversary to you, too."

He stays still for a moment longer, seeming to flounder with the reminder before he yanks the door open, rushing out and letting your lawyer come in. You can't help but twist in your seat, watching Don go, and willing him to look back. When he doesn't, when your lawyer knocks on the table to draw your attention, you slouch down in your seat.

--

Don stops at his desk, shrugging his jacket off and hanging it over the back of his chair. He can hear his team chatting around him, surely trying to avoid asking. He appreciates that, at least.

Don hesitates before he turns back toward the interrogation room, eyeing the back of her head again.

Happy anniversary indeed.