TITLE:  Secrets
AUTHOR: Lady Ra
E-MAIL ADDRESS: ladyra11@yahoo.com
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Don/Charlie
SUMMARY: Charlie's already in love, and Don's falling kicking and screaming.  Then, a long kept family secret comes to light. 
EPISODE SPOILERS:  All of first season.  Starts smack in the middle of the pilot, when Don is dressing in front of Charlie, and then goes on to touch most of the first season episodes in one fashion or another, although I do go AU with some of the eps.  I also snitched an occasional line of dialogue.  Oh, and I give Alan a love life.
NOTES/WARNINGS: Happy ending Don/Charlie story.  I promise.  Oh, and I'm sure none of the math symbols will translate well, but that's all right.  It's all Swahili to me even if they are actual equations.   Thanks to all the math and science sites I stole info away from.
DISCLAIMER: I'm making millions.  Mwahahaha.  The book rights, movie options, tours, adoring fans by the millions throwing money at me.  Sigh.  Okay, I'm lying.  Not mine.  Wah!!!!!!!  But, all honor and praise to the creators of the show because you came up with some damn fine characters to play with.
DISTRIBUTION: My home site:  www.visionsofprettyboys.com.  And maybe Numb3rs Don't Lie.  If you want it someplace else, let me know.  We'll talk.  I can be bought.
FEEDBACK: Please.  Really.  No, I mean it.  Seriously.  Now.
THANKS: To my wonderful betas who seem so willing to either suck me into new fandoms, or follow me there willingly.  For this story that includes:  Joolz, Jenn, and Prentice.

Secrets

Charlie wanted to help Don get dressed.  Well, he actually wanted to help Don undress, but there was a certain domestic charm in the other.  Buttoning up Don's shirt, letting a finger accidentally caress the skin beneath, adjusting his sleeves.  Laying Don's tie around the back of his neck, placing the wide end over the skinnier end, then starting the ballet of over and under and through until you created a knot.  Easing the knot up, up, up, snug against Don's Adam's apple, then fixing his collar, smoothing it down.

Proprietary touches.  Touches that said Don belonged to Charlie.  That Charlie had a right to touch.

But Charlie didn't have a right to touch.  Not that way.  So he leaned against the door jamb and watched Don tie his own tie.  Snug his own knot.

Sexy man.

For as long as Charlie could remember, he'd thought Don was sexy.  He was strong and capable and solid.  Maybe those weren't the attributes everyone would rattle off when asked to categorize sexy, but that did it for Charlie. 

They'd definitely had their moments.  There had been times when they were younger when Charlie would have gladly sold Don to the Mennonites.  But the older Charlie got, the more he wanted Don around.     

And now, after years apart, Don was here.  Back in LA.  Their mother's fight with cancer and eventual death had brought him here originally, but then he'd stayed.  To be near Charlie.  Yeah, and to be near Dad, but Charlie wanted to be the main reason.  He wanted Don to need him as much as he needed Don.

Later that day, after Charlie had first helped himself, without permission, to Don's confidential files on the latest serial rapist case, then somehow convinced Don to let him take a look, he showed up at Don's office.  Without a self-conscious bone in him, much to Don's amusement, he'd begun lecturing Don, Don's staff, and Don's boss, about what he'd found.

"Exactly," Charlie said to Terry's comment.  "It's pretty difficult to consciously pick a random sequence.  Your target tried but, like you, he wound up with roughly even spacing."

Don half-listened to Terry's response, hand cupped around his chin, watching his brother perform his numbers act.  How many times had Don seen this?  Hundreds, thousands, maybe more.  Years and years of Charlie going off about numbers meaning this and numbers explaining that.  Numbers, numbers, numbers.

Sometimes Don got caught up in it, carried along in Charlie's excitement, the numbers coming alive in Don's mind through Charlie's verbal prestidigitation.  Sometimes Charlie left Don behind so fast he ended up choking on Charlie's exhaust fumes. 

He let his eyes roam over Charlie as he gestured toward the map, his brother's faith in numbers unshakable.  Letting his thoughts wander, having heard all of this at home already, Don found himself noticing Charlie's face.  His beautiful face.

He brushed that thought away with some bemusement, even as his eyes continued assessing his brother.  As if a blindfold had been taken off, it suddenly dawned on Don that his brother had grown up.  That his geeky, awkward little brother had turned into a really good-looking guy.

Charlie started giving Don's boss some sass, and Don met Terry's eyes and grinned.  Part of the grin was the fact that Don knew, despite his brother's song and dance about the unlikely odds of winning, that Charlie bought an occasional lottery ticket when a certain spread of numbers appealed to him.

Not that Charlie had ever gotten lucky.  With the lottery, that is.  Don knew that Charlie had had sex.  His stomach tightened oddly at the random thought.  He wasn't crazy about the idea of Charlie having sex.  Of someone fucking Charlie's ass.

Don furrowed his brow.  Jesus, his thoughts were all over the map today.  As far as he knew, Charlie had only had sex with women.  Not that it mattered because Don was not thinking about this.  He focused back in on the conversation around him.

Then, an agent was barging into the room announcing they'd found the car they'd been searching for and Don was on his feet and out the door.

"That was one hell of an equation," Don said with a smile as they stood together at the crime scene after the case had been solved.  What an understatement.  What Charlie had been able to do with a whiteboard of equations blew Don's mind.  His brother might be a mathematician, but in Don's mind he was a magician. 

Charlie smiled back.  "You put it together," he said graciously to Don.

"Couldn't have done it without you," Don countered.  "And if we'd taken any longer, she'd be dead," he added, gesturing to where the victim was sitting on the tailgate of the ambulance, a blanket around her shoulder, drinking something hot, Terry in attendance. 

"We made a good team," Charlie said with some satisfaction.

"Yeah, we did," Don agreed.

Later, Don sat at home in his apartment, drinking a beer, thinking of Charlie.  One hell of an equation.  It still blew his mind.  Especially as it never would have occurred to Don to ask Charlie for help.  Not in a million years. 

Charlie.

Don rested his head back against the couch.  He still remembered his epiphany the other day.  Charlie had grown up.  For as long as Don had known Charlie, he'd been his little brother.  Don hadn't realized that in his mind, he'd kept Charlie at about age fourteen. 

In many ways, nothing in Charlie's life had changed since that time.  He was still a math genius, he still lived with Dad, he still had a difficult time dealing with the everyday matters of living, and his skill with people was hit or miss.  None of that had changed.

Except, suddenly, Charlie was a grown-up who was almost thirty years old, and he had the ability to use his math in an application that took Don's breath away. 

He still hadn't forgotten the other part of his epiphany; that Charlie was a beautiful man.  Beautiful eyes, beautiful face, and a beautiful soul--when he wasn't being a total pain in Don's ass.

With a small chuckle, Don finished off his beer and debated getting another one.  Deciding he just needed to go to bed, he got up and threw the bottle away in the kitchen.  As he brushed his teeth and stripped out of his clothes, he sincerely hoped he got to work with his brother again.

Two weeks later, Don wanted to strangle his brother.  That fucking P vs P whatever-the-fuck crap.  Shit.  He needed his brother's help, but all Charlie was doing was hiding in the garage working on the same fucking math problem that had kept him there for months when their mom was dying.  Yeah, Don got that Charlie was freaked that Don had almost died, but he needed his brother's help, not this fucking withdrawal. 

Charlie had been so amazingly helpful in the last two cases, that Don had forgotten there was this side to Charlie.  The side that couldn't cope, the side that had Charlie hiding in his numbers when things got bad.   

Don wanted to punch him, all the anger over his brother's complete and utter uselessness in helping the family deal with Mom's cancer washing over him.  He took a step back, knowing that pushing Charlie around, however enticing the thought, wouldn't get him anywhere. 

"I don't know how I got in a situation where I need your help to do my job," Don yelled at Charlie," as he strode for the house, "but I…I sure as hell have, and I wish you would just snap out of your…your precious bubble for once!"

Fucking P vs NP.  Don versus Charlie and his fucking math. 

Safely back in the garage, Charlie stared at the chalk board, a desperateness seizing his guts.  He thought he might throw up, the memories of earlier that day battering him.

The air had been filled with smoke and the smell of gunpowder.

L(M) = {wε∑*|M accepts w}

Hundreds of bullet casings had been on the ground.

Tm (n) = max{tM (w)|wε∑n}

There had been a pool of blood.

LR = {w≠y|R(w,y)}

There had been a body bag.  And no sign of Don.  Oh, Jesus.  Charlie sat before he fell down, his stomach roiling.  He'd been so sure Don had been the body in that black bag.  So sure he'd get around the truck and find them zipping it closed over Don's face.  Charlie gagged, swallowed convulsively.

wεLnЗy(|y|≤|wR and R(w,y))

Don had been shot.  Maybe it was just a scratch but he'd been shot.  A bullet had come into contact with Don.  Just a few inches or a jerk in the wrong direction, and it would have been Don in that body bag.

Charlie had called Terry.  Terry had told him to call if he needed anything so he had.  He'd needed to know how close it had been.  Terry hadn't wanted to tell him but she finally had.  Three bullets.  The man had fired at Don from only feet away and had shot him three times.  The first two bullets had hit Don's vest.  The last one had creased his arm.  Three bullets.

Three was a prime number, a triangular number, a Fibonacci number, a Lucas number.  Triangles have three sides, tripods have three legs, a triceratops had three horns.  Trigonometry is a branch of mathematics based on measuring triangles.  The letters AFHKNYZ are all made up of three lines.

Three times.  He should be dead.  And Charlie had sent him there.  The math had sent Don there.

R(w,y)nwεL

And then Don had come here.  He'd yelled at Charlie, shaken him, been disappointed in him. 

But Don was alive.

Charlie ran his fingers through his hair and lay on the floor on his back staring up at all the chalkboards.  He'd lived out here when his mom was dying.  He could feel the pull to live in here now.  The numbers called to him like the sirens of old.  Here you are safe, they said.  Here you will find truth, they said.

But Don wasn't here.  And Don had said he needed Charlie. 

He closed his eyes and pictured himself erasing the chalkboards, walking out of the garage, maybe making some soup, eating some crackers.  Maybe there was something to watch on TV.  It all sounded so simple.  So easy. 

Maybe if he left the equations on the boards, it would be easier to walk away, knowing they'd be here when he got back. 

Maybe if Don came for him, he could go. 

There, just for a second, he felt it.  He felt the will to leave.  Before it could blow away like leaves on a breezy autumn day, he was up and running for the house.

"Me and Heisenberg, we're all over this," Don said to him with a grin.  Then he turned and walked away.  Swaggered, really, Charlie thought.  Don swaggered more than he walked.  Like a sheriff from an old time western.  Something about the way his hips shifted.

And the thigh holsters.  Charlie might be terrified for Don, knowing he was going back up against the man who'd already come so close to killing him, but Charlie's libido didn't care.  Don all dressed up for trouble was like sex incarnate.  All the leather he wore outlined his ass, like chaps.  All he needed was a horse.

Charlie grinned to himself and turned to find David watching him.  A pulse of panic ran through Charlie.  Did he know?  Could David see in Charlie's eyes what he felt for Don?  Could he guess?

But then David smiled at him, and his eyes also followed Don as he continued to walk away.  And maybe it was all right to stare at Don.  Maybe it was all right to see him as a hero and think of him as an old-time sheriff riding to the rescue in a thunder of hoof beats, because Charlie knew the people who worked for him saw him the same way.

After dinner, after Alan left, Don and Charlie moved to the couch and Don turned the TV on, channel surfing until he found a game he was interested in.  Turning the volume down low, he turned to his brother.  "I meant what I said," Don told Charlie.

Charlie's eyebrows went up.  "When?  You, uh, you've said a lot of things the past two days."  He shot Don a poorly concealed look of anxiety.

Don touched Charlie's arm.  "That Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle thing.  That's the thing where you said that watching something changes it, right?"

Charlie hesitated.  "Okay." he finally said slowly.  Don grinned, appreciating that Charlie was resisting the urge to correct Don with a very long-winded explanation of everything Heisenberg.

"It just made me think differently about what those bank robbers would be doing.  How me watching them might change what they would do."

"Good, I'm…good.  I'm glad."

"And that's not the only way it helped me," Don said. 

"How else did it help you?"  Charlie reached for his glass of water.

"I knew you were watching me," Don told Charlie.

Charlie's brows shot up again.  "You think I changed you because I was watching you?"

"You did," Don assured him.  "It mattered.  I knew I needed to do it right.  To get home safe."  Every now and then Don got a glimpse of how much he meant to Charlie.  He didn't really understand it because Don's mind was filled with all the times he'd treated Charlie like crap.  All the times he'd been resentful, and moody, and let his temper get the better of him.

But Charlie's reaction to him almost getting shot, his retreat back into the garage, had driven home just how much Don mattered to Charlie.  Don wasn't sure Charlie would survive another garage adventure.  He'd lost so much weight the last time around.  There'd been shadows under his eyes that made him seem sicker than mom.

And knowing Charlie cared that much, had been that freaked out that Don might get hurt, had made Don that extra bit careful. 

"Good," Charlie said with a small nod.  "I'll keep watching then."

Don grinned at Charlie and turned to the TV.  After a while he could sense Charlie staring at him.  "What?" he said, his eyes glued to the TV.

"Let me see."

Don turned to look at Charlie.  "See what?"

"What those bullets did to you."

Don frowned and waved Charlie off.  "Forget about it."

"I mean it."  Charlie moved closer to Don and grabbed for the bottom of Don's t-shirt, forcing it up.

"Charlie," Don said, half laughing, half growling.  "Cut it out."

"I need to see," Charlie said in his usual stubborn fashion.

Don rolled his eyes.  He'd either need to give in or leave; Charlie wasn't going to let this one go.  "Fine."  He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt with crossed arms and yanked it over his head.

The bruises were fairly spectacular; the bullets had come at him from too damn close.  Charlie had been right about it being an anomaly that Don was still alive.  As talented as these guys had been, there was no excuse that the one who had shot him three times failed to take out his target.  Not that Don was complaining.

Charlie's brow was furrowed, his eyes concerned.  "Do they hurt?"

There was one right over his heart, and one over his liver.  "A little."  A lot.  But Charlie didn't need to know that.

Then Charlie's hands were on him, touching the bruises, outlining them with his finger, first one and then the other.

The gentle touch tickled Don, and he giggled and shied away.  "You gonna kiss it and make it better, too?" he teased.  There was a too longish pause that made Don look at Charlie.

"You want me to?" Charlie asked, his voice soft.

Don stared at his brother, at the affection, need, in his eyes.  He could feel the calloused fingers on his chest, one dangerously close to his nipple.  And for the weirdest moment, he wondered exactly what Charlie was asking him.  And wondered what the hell he'd say if Charlie was… Don shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Seen enough?"  Without waiting for an answer, he pulled his shirt back on. 

Just that easily, they were only brothers sitting on the couch, watching a game.  Don found it easy to ignore that his heart was racing a little too fast.

"You're not too good at keeping secrets."  As soon as the words were past Don's lips, he knew he'd made a mistake.  One minute he'd been teasing his brother about the unexpected very high security clearance that Don had known nothing about, and the next he was watching Charlie's face shut down.  Don had no idea what he'd done, but the look in Charlie's eyes and his abrupt departure told him he'd sure as hell said something wrong.

Charlie rode his bike back to CalSci, his feet pedaling as furiously as his mind.

His brother thought he couldn't keep a secret.  What a joke.

All of Charlie's life, he'd been different.  The rules never seemed to apply to him.  That's why he'd never felt wrong about loving Don the way he did.  Nothing had ever been truly normal about his life, so why should who he chose to love be any different?

Charlie understood that society would think it was wrong.  Or that Don might think it was wrong.  The label for it would be incest, but Charlie didn't like to think about that word because it meant something nasty, something almost evil, and what he felt for Don was anything but. 

So it had been his secret, one he'd kept ever since he started noticing people and sex at the same time.  It hadn't been easy.  Sometimes he'd wanted to talk about Don endlessly like some lovelorn high school girl, but there had never been anyone he could tell.  So he'd kept it to himself for years. 

Charlie thought he was better at keeping secrets than almost anyone he knew.

Don was glad Charlie seemed to have forgiven him for whatever he'd said wrong at the hospital.  Dinner with Dad was friendly and, afterwards, he and Charlie sat on the porch. 

When Charlie wouldn't tell him a thing about the work he'd done for the NSA, Don was proud and annoyed at the same time.  What helped him get past the annoyance was that Charlie would have told him.  Had been telling him before Don told him to stop.  Figures his brother would do what he was told when Don sort of didn't want him to.

No, he was proud.  Proud and astonished.  And annoyed.  "Hey, Charlie," he said, resting his hand briefly on Charlie's shoulder again.  "I'm sorry for what I said about you not being able to keep secrets.  Obviously, I couldn't have been more wrong."

Charlie smiled at him, accompanied by a quick glance through dark lashes.  "I'm pretty good at it, actually."

"I guess you are.  You sure had me fooled."  Don took a swig of his beer.

Charlie smiled again.  He opened his mouth to speak then shut it.

"What?" Don asked.

Charlie shook his head.

"No, what?" Don encouraged.

"I'll tell you if you really want me to."

"About your top secret work?" Don asked with a grin.

Charlie nodded, curls keeping tempo.  "I mean, just you."

"Nah," Don said.  "I'm curious, but…nah."  He punched Charlie lightly on the arm.  "Thanks, though."

"Sure?"

Don grinned at Charlie again, snickering.  "God, you're dying to tell me, aren't you?"

Charlie grinned back, biting a corner of his lip.  He nodded, his eyebrows dancing a little.

"You gonna tell me all your secrets, then?" Don teased.

Charlie hesitated but then shook his head.  "Not all of them."

Don narrowed his eyes at Charlie, wondering what other secrets Charlie kept in that brilliant brain.  "Okay."  He leaned back.  "Finish telling that one about our troops."  He frowned.  "You sure you should tell me?  I really don't want you breaking your security oath."

"Just you, Don.  You don't really count."

"Yeah, I sort of do," Don corrected him.  "If I don't have the right level of security clearance, I shouldn't hear this stuff."

"You do," Charlie assured him.

Don wasn't sure Charlie was telling the truth, or maybe he was telling the truth according to the Rules Of Engagement with Charles Eppes, where brothers got special dispensation.

Fortunately for Charlie, Don knew how to keep secrets, too.  "Hit me with your best stuff," Don said with another grin.  "Knock my socks off."  And as Don listened, he found himself as lost in Charlie's eyes, his expressive face, and his impassioned voice, as he was in his brother's words.

A few weeks later, after they'd wrapped up the suicide case, Charlie talked about Occam's razor for twenty minutes non-stop, only to fall back into a brood when he was done.  Don eyed his dad, frowning a little.  His dad leaned in.  "I think this is a job for big brother," he informed Don.

Don frowned again, not sure he agreed.  Charlie's broods were legendary.  They could go on for hours, days, sometimes weeks.  Don couldn't remember being particularly successful at snapping Charlie out of them before.

"Trust me," his father said as he pulled out his wallet.

Don stopped his dad and pulled out his own.  "My treat, Dad."  Without giving his dad a chance to argue, Don grabbed the bill and headed for the cashier.  He could hear his dad get Charlie up and moving.

Sighing at the thought of trying to cheer Charlie up, Don paid the bill, then joined Charlie and his dad at the door to the restaurant.  The drive home was quiet and, once they arrived, Alan made himself scarce, leaving Don and Charlie standing in the living room.

Don worried his bottom lip for a few moments.  "Hey," he finally said, slapping Charlie on the arm, "let's watch a game."

Charlie shook his head.  "No, I, um, I don't…"  He gave up, shrugging.

"Okay," Don said.  "How about a game of chess?"  He didn't like the haunted look in his brother's eyes.

"I don't need you to cheer me up," Charlie said huffily.  "I'm not a case you need to solve."

"I never said you were," Don retorted.  "I care about you; you're my brother."

That got a sigh.

Don manfully resisted rolling his eyes.  "I have an idea.  Why don't you just tell me what's bothering you, and then we can talk about it?"  He shot Charlie a hopeful look.  "Might save us a lot of time."

"I feel like I'm responsible for Finn Montgomery's death," Charlie blurted out.

Don's eyebrows went up, feeling a stab of sympathy.  "No, no, Charlie, you're not."

"Larry said the same thing.  How do you know?  Finn came to see me.  He stood in my office door practically begging me to look at his data."

"The stuff you work on is important.  You can't help every student who comes to you for advice."

Charlie shook his head.  "A part of me recognized he was there, and he was talking, but I was…" Charlie made a vague gesture.  "I was working on something, and I…"  He shot Don a miserable look, shaking his head.

"So," Don started haltingly, verbally maneuvering through a minefield, "you didn't actually talk to him?"  Don was kicking himself for not interrogating Charlie a bit more thoroughly when he'd told Don that Montgomery had been at his office.  It helped explain Charlie's desperate need for the young man's death to not be a suicide.

Charlie shook his head mournfully.  "I didn't even acknowledge him.  I didn't even…"  His pained eyes stared over Don's shoulder.  "All I did was reinforce his sense of worthlessness because I couldn't be bothered to even talk to him.  I might as well have pushed him off that bridge."

"Don't say that," Don snapped, angry on Charlie's self-belittlement.  "If you'd known he needed help, you would have done anything to help him."

"How can you say that?" Charlie asked with tortured, passionate eyes.  "He needed help, and I blew him off."

Don sat on the couch and indicated that Charlie sit next to him.  When Charlie stayed standing, Don grabbed his arm, yanking him down.  Off balance, Charlie joined him gracelessly.  He glared at Don but stayed put.

The problem was that Don could see it, could see Finn coming to Charlie but barely dinging on his radar.  When Charlie got lost in his work it took some serious energy to pry him loose.  Certainly more than an angry mixed-up kid could have mustered.  Charlie didn't even get out of his math fugues for Don a good deal of the time.

Don thought about what might have happened if Charlie had acknowledged Finn's presence and agreed to check out his data.  Charlie could have helped Finn find the flaw, both of them then working with Don and the FBI to bring the wrong-doers to justice. 

It might have made a difference, Don admitted honestly to himself.  He could see why Charlie was beating himself up about it. 

"His mom," Charlie said, interrupting Don's thoughts, "his mom thanked me when I showed her the model of the new counterweight system.  She told me that Montgomery had said that nobody understood him.  That he felt all alone."  Charlie looked away.  "I was a part of making him feel that way, but she didn't know that, and she thanked me.  And I let her."

Don bit his lips for a second.  "Listen, this kid, Finn, he was depressed, clinically, diagnosable.  He was supposed to be on medication, and he'd stopped taking it a few weeks ago.  He wasn't seeing the world right, Charlie.  He couldn't.  You can't even begin to assume you know what he would have done if you'd done something different.  An entirely different trigger could have set him off."

"Like what?" Charlie asked, turning to face Don straight on, his face pleading for exoneration.

Don shrugged.  "I don't know.  Your brain in action could have seriously affected his self-esteem, knowing people perpetrated a fraud could have pushed his button.  Even if you'd been working with him, he could have seen his ex-girlfriend out on a date with someone new and decided his life wasn't worth living.  He wasn't stable."

"But I--"

"It's like you're seeing part of an equation," Don interrupted with sudden inspiration.  "You see the first number one and that's Montgomery Finn, and then you're seeing a zero after the equals sign, and you're assuming that to get to that zero you had to be the minus one.  But a hundred different factors could have happened between that first one and the zero.  Numbers added, subtracted, multiplied, divided, and all those numbers are all the other people in his life, and the way his brain chemistry worked, and the decisions he'd made up to that point, and none of that had anything to do with you."

Don saw that glazed look Charlie got when math was putting on a show for him.  He sat there watching his brother as he worked his way through this new information.  Finally, Charlie's eyes focused again and he stared at Don.  "So it wasn't only me," he said hopefully.  "It was a set of factors."

"Yeah."

"And maybe I was part of that set, but I wasn't the reason."

"You weren't the reason.  You'd never be the reason, Charlie.  You might get distracted, but you're a good guy.  If you'd really known this kid was hurting so much, you'd have brought him home and fed him chicken noodle soup."

Charlie snickered a little, and then the smile faded.  "I still feel bad."

"Yeah, I do, too.  It's really sad to think that people get so lost they end up killing themselves.  But you can't save everyone.  And if you let yourself get interrupted all the time when you're working, you'd never get anything done, and the stuff you do is important."

"Not worth a person's life," Charlie argued.

"Maybe not, but the stuff you work on for me saves a lot of lives."  Don got another smile for that, a sad one, but a smile.  "You okay?"

Charlie nodded half-heartedly.

"Charlie," Don hesitated, then pressed on, "You're alone a lot, too, and you're not jumping off bridges."

"I have you," Charlie said sincerely.  "And…and Dad, and Larry, and Amita."

"You didn't have me for a lot of years," Don said softly, wondering how he'd ever allowed his life to take him so far away.

"Yeah, I know," Charlie said, turning away to stare out the window.

"Did you ever feel that way?" Don asked cautiously, his gut suddenly tight.  "Like Finn did?"

Charlie's eyes looked puzzled, but then widened.  "No.  I mean, yeah, I guess it can be lonely, because I'm so different, but, no, I never thought about…no.  Not like that."

Don blew out a breath of relief.  "Good.  That's good."  He gave Charlie a quick grin.  "Because you do have me, you know that, right?"

He got a studied look from Charlie.  "Do I?"

"Yeah," Don said, a little surprised at the question.  "Yeah, you have me."

Rather than answering, Charlie leaned into Don, and Don lifted an arm and wrapped it around his brother, pulling him close.  They sat there for a while, saying nothing, and Don was startled to notice how good it felt to have Charlie near him this way. 

It was Charlie who finally pulled away.  "Want to watch that game now?" he asked.

Don gave him a careful look.  Charlie's eyes were still sad but the haunted look was gone.  "Yeah, okay."  He leaned forward to pick up the remote control and turned on the TV.  As they sat there in silence watching the game, Don wished Charlie was still touching him.

Then Don decided he was being stupid.  If he needed some physical reassurance, Charlie probably needed it, too.  Maybe even more.  He reached for his brother again, pleased when Charlie came willingly, cuddling into his side.  Smiling, Don said, "Great timing, by the way, on that call the other night.  You saved me from Dad's date from hell."

Charlie turned his head just a little.  "Yeah?  Date from hell?  Why?  What happened?"

Heads together, Don started talking about skiing accidents and pet ducks and reveled in Charlie's touch and laughter.

"Hey, Dad," Don said as he shuffled into the kitchen the next morning, attempting to tame his hair with his fingers.

"Oh, hey, Don," his father said, surprised.  "You spend the night?"

Don yawned as he nodded.  He opened a cabinet, retrieved a mug, filling it with coffee.  "Me and Charlie stayed up late last night watching the basketball game."

Alan smiled.  "You cheer him up?"

Don smiled back.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I think I did."

"Good."  Alan went back to his paper.

Don sat down, snitched the sports section.  He glanced at his father.  "You look tired."

"I am tired," Alan admitted.  "Haven't been sleeping so good, I guess."

"Anything in particular?" Don asked.

Alan shook his head.  "No.  Well, you two.  You're enough to keep any father up at night."  He softened his words with another smile.

"But, you're all right?" Don asked, worried for no particular reason.

"Oh, sure.  Sure."

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?" Don pestered.

"Yeah.  Of course.  I'm fine.  Just a little tired."  He held up his coffee mug.  "A little more caffeine and I'll be right as rain."

Don frowned.  "Okay."  He heard footsteps behind him.  "Hey, Charlie," he tossed over his shoulder.

Charlie grinned, clearly pleased to see him.  "Good morning."  He reached for another mug.  "Good morning, Dad."

"Morning Charlie," Alan responded, smiling at the two of them.

Maybe Don needed to spend the night more often.  There was something to be said for spending the morning with people you love.

Charlie watched from his office window as Don headed down the sidewalk to his car.  He could watch Don walk for hours.  Towards him, away from him.  Either way, it was a turn on.  Don did amazing things to a pair of jeans.

He heard footsteps and turned his head to see Larry come into the office.  Larry grinned.  "You look like a man in love.  I'm guessing the fair Amita was just here?"

Not thinking, Charlie shook his head.  "No, Don."  Then he realized what that sounded like, and his eyes widened in alarm.  "She was here," he said quickly.  "Amita, I mean.  She left a while ago."

Larry considered him, tapping a knuckle against pursed lips. 

Charlie tried hard not to fidget.  "Was there something you wanted?" he asked Larry, going for casual.  When his voice squeaked a little, Charlie wanted to strangle himself, but he just cleared his throat.

"Hmm.  Yes.  Yes, actually.  I was hoping you'd had a chance to look at those equations I left you."

Charlie leapt up, seizing the welcome distraction.  "As a matter of fact, I did."  He flipped through the papers on his desk.  Grateful when Larry followed him to the table, cursing his friend's lightning fast mind, hoping he wasn't drawing the right conclusions, Charlie spread the papers out.

Whatever he was thinking, Larry's eyes lit up when he saw Charlie's work.  "Ah, I like that," he said, pointing to the first equation on the second page.  "I hadn't thought of that.  Very elegant."  He sat down and, to Charlie's relief, focused in on the math.

All the lights in the house went off with a snap.

Charlie frowned at the now darkened room, trying to figure out what had just happened.  "Dad?" he called.  When he got no response he remembered his dad had gone out for the evening. 

He stood, looked out the window and saw that the neighbor's lights were on, so it wasn't a black out.  For a creepy moment he wondered if someone had done it on purpose.  He listened intently for unexplainable noises, for the sound of steps where there should be none, for door knobs turning.

Shivers ran up and down Charlie's spine.  Then he let out a snort and shook it off.  The circuit breaker must have cut off.  Charlie knew it happened sometimes.  Yet one more thing he'd inherited when he bought the house from Dad, like the troublesome noisy furnace.  All he needed to do was go downstairs and reset it.  Piece of cake.

Assuming he knew where to find a flashlight.  He thought for a minute.  The garage.  There was one in the garage.  There, problem solved.  He settled back down on the couch.  The darkness was actually restful, the absence of all the light and electricity leaving behind a sense of peace.  Charlie felt no immediate need to go fix it.

Of course he'd need to sooner or later.  They had a refrigerator stocked with food, and Charlie didn't want his dad to come home to a dark house.  But it could wait a few minutes. 

There was a full moon, and the light from it shone through the windows, splintered by the leaves of the tree outside.  Charlie followed the light to the ceiling, caught by the design splashed across it. 

"Ahh," he muttered to himself with a smile.  "The beauty of non-interger self-similar dimensions."  Fractals.  There was a fractal on his ceiling.  Take the x and y coordinate of a point, and plug them into z in the form of x + y*I, where i is the square root of negative one, square it, and then add c, a constant. 

Couch forgotten, Charlie lay down on the floor to better see the entire ceiling. 

Plug the resulting pair of real and imaginary numbers back into z, run the equation again.  His mind followed the equations, his eyes teasing out infinity.

Don pulled up to the house, frowning at how dark it was.  Maybe no one was home.  He was surprised at how disappointed he felt.  It wasn't like he didn't see Charlie almost daily lately. 

He decided as long as he was here, he'd grab something to eat; he had an empty refrigerator mocking him at home.  Locking his car, he strode to the house and unlocked the front door. 

Charlie was lying on the floor.  The house was dark, and Charlie was lying on the floor.  "Charlie!"  Don ran to him, his heart hammering in his chest.  "Jesus, Charlie."  He fell to his knees, reaching out a hand to search for Charlie's pulse.

Charlie turned his head and smiled, looking surprised.  "Hey, Don."

Don almost had a heart attack.  "Jesus.  Are you all right?" Don couldn't check the impulse and still went to feel for a pulse.  "Are you hurt?"

"No.  I'm fine."  Charlie sat up on his elbows.  "What's the matter?"

"What's the matter?" Don asked, almost angry.  "I come into a dark house and find you lying on the floor and you ask me what's the matter?"  He glanced around the house.  "Why is it so dark in here?"

"I think it's the circuit breaker."  He touched Don's knee. "Why did you think something had happened?"

Don shifted until he was sitting, giving his heart a moment to calm down; it was still pounding.  "Think about it.  Think about what I do.  My mind tends to go to dark places."  He let his head sag into his hands.  "Jesus.  I thought you were dead."  Don wanted to grab Charlie and hold him tightly.

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to frighten you," Charlie said softly.  "I'd promise not to do it again, but the odds of these exact variables reoccurring again are--"

Don interrupted him.  "Yeah.  I get it."  His heart had almost returned to normal.  "Where's Dad?"

"Out on another date," Charlie said with a grin.

"With the duck lady?" Don asked incredulously.

Charlie shook his head.  "No, someone new.  He met her at the grocery store.  Her name's Shirley Sampson."  He snickered.  "Dad said if I saw you I should tell you that you and I need to take a lesson out of his book."

"What's that mean?"

"Dad's way of telling us both that we should be out there dating, I think."

"Dating," Don said with a scoff.  "Right.  Like I have time for that."

"If you spent all the time you spend over here on dating, you'd have time," Charlie said quietly.

"Yeah, but I like coming over here," Don said easily, hearing the truth in his own words.  This was easy.  Comfortable.  Not like dates which were the opposite.

Charlie smiled at him.

Don stared at Charlie, at the patterns the moonlight made across his body.  "Why didn't you reset the circuit breaker?"  He frowned.  "And why are you lying on the ground?"

Charlie grinned and grabbed Don's hand.  "Lie down next to me, and I'll show you."

Allowing himself to be pulled down, glad for the chance to feel the warmth of Charlie's body next to his after that heart stopping moment of being sure Charlie was hurt or dead, Don lay down next to his brother.  "Okay, now what?"

"Look at the ceiling."

Don looked at the ceiling.  The moonlight spread a shadow of leaves across it.  "I see shadows.  What are you looking at?"

"A fractal."

"Help me out here a little, okay?" Don said, half exasperated.

"See how the entire pattern on the ceiling has those serrated edges?"

"Right, from the leaves."

"Exactly.  And if you counted those up, there might be what?  One hundred serrations?"

Don snickered.  "Have you been counting them?  Charlie, you need to get a life."

Charlie elbowed Don.  "Very funny," he said.  "Just focus on that corner.  See how within each larger serrated edge, there are more, smaller serrated edges?"

"Yeah.  Maybe.  No."  Don squinted at the ceiling.

Charlie scrabbled for Don's hand, then lifted both, fingers laced, Charlie's index finger extended to provide a line of sight for Don.  "There."  He pressed his head close to Don's.  "See there?"

Don squinted some more.  "Yeah, okay, I see it.  More edges."

"Okay, so how many serrations do you think are there?"

"I have no idea," Don said dryly, "and I'm not counting them."

"You don't need to.  Just look at them.  Now take an even smaller section, like there." Again, Charlie raised their hands.  "Right against the window.  Focus on the smaller section.  See how there's even more serrations, more nooks and crannies?"

Don followed Charlie's finger to the ceiling, his eyes searching for what Charlie was trying to show him.  "You mean like how it almost looks more complicated than the bigger picture?"

Charlie beamed at him.  "Yes!  Exactly."

Don looked, squinting again.  "I don't get it."

"If you were to measure the whole leaf pattern on the ceiling from corner to corner, how long would it be?"

"Twenty feet as the crow flies, probably three times that long if you counted the indentations," Don said.

"That's what we want to do, measure the actual surface, following the ins and outs of the leaf patterns.  Now take the corner section, but make it in your mind as big as the twenty feet.  But now, because you have more detail, how long would it be now?"

"Three times, maybe four times as long."

"Right.  Now take just the part by the window, and stretch that out.  Again, measuring the detail you could see, how long would it be?"

"Longer?"

"That's right.  That's what a fractal is.  You can keep going deeper and deeper into a pattern, the measurement increasing over time, technically to infinity."  With a pleased smile, Charlie lowered his hand, still holding Don's, to rest between them.  "It's a fractal.  On the ceiling."

Even in the dark, there was enough moonlight for Don to see the delighted look on Charlie's face as he was enraptured by the free show nature was splashing on the ceiling, and it made Don love him fiercely.  He lay there, holding Charlie's hand, paying much more attention to Charlie than to the mathematical wonder shining above them.

After a while, Charlie realized that they were still holding hands.  That Don hadn't taken his hand back or moved away.  That they were lying on the floor, in the dark, heads and shoulders pressed together.  Charlie wondered what Don would do if he turned his head and pressed their lips together. 

His stomach was overrun with butterflies just at the thought, and the fear that he might actually do it moved him to sit up.  "I guess we better fix the lights."

Don sat up as well.  "Yeah.  Wouldn't want Dad to come home and trip over us," he said with a grin.

They were still holding hands.

Don squeezed his hand and let go.

The sense of loss Charlie felt was completely inappropriate to the simple act of Don pulling his hand away.  He knew that, but it still hurt.  "Right," he said, clearing his throat.  "I was going to get the flashlight from the garage."

Don stood and reached out a hand for Charlie to take.  Charlie took it, letting Don pull him up.  He hung on a little too long, but Don didn't seem to mind.  Every now and then, Charlie teased himself with the idea that Don really liked touching him. 

"Dad usually keeps a flashlight right inside the door to the basement," Don said, leading the way.

As Don found the flashlight and flicked it on, Charlie was happy to have him take control.  Charlie could have fixed the circuit breaker, but it turned him on to watch Don do it with such a sure hand.   

Don picked up the bottle of pills from the table.  "What are these?"

"Those, Mr. Nosy Pants," his father said, "are my blood pressure pills."

"You take blood pressure pills?" Don asked with a frown.

"Yes, I take blood pressure pills.  I've been taking them for a few years now."

"Huh," Don said, reading the bottle.  "How come I didn't know that?"

"Because it's none of your business," Alan said sharply, taking the bottle from Don's hand.

"So why are they sitting on the table?" Don asked, sensing that there was more to this story than his dad was telling him.

Alan sighed, then shrugged.  "I took my blood pressure down at the supermarket, you know?"

Don nodded.  "Yeah?  And?"

"It was a little high.  That's all."

Don frowned.  "A little high?"

"Yeah, a little high."

"How high is a little high?"

"Just a little high," Alan said with a glare over the rim of his glasses.

Don glanced at the table, saw the scribbled note.  "Obviously it was high enough for you to call Dr. Burke."

"Fine.  I called the doctor.  You happy?"

Pulling out a chair at the dining room table, Don sat down.  "What's going on?"

Alan blew out a breath and leaned back.  "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Don't give me that," Don protested.  "Tell me what's going on."  His eyes searched his father's face.  "You're still not sleeping, are you?"

Alan shook his head.  "It's just time for a checkup, that's all."

Charlie wandered in.  "What's going on?"

Alan sent a look of warning toward Don.  "Nothing."

Don frowned at his dad, but kept his mouth shut.  He'd interrogate his father later when Charlie wasn't around.  He changed the subject.  "How'd things go with Shirley?"

Alan smiled smugly.  "We're seeing each other on Friday.  I'm taking her out for dinner."  He tapped his fingers on the table, looking sternly at them both.  "You see, this is how it's done.  You take a woman on a date.  If you have a nice time, you take her out again.  Sooner or later, dating turns to marriage, and marriage turns to grandchildren."

"Yeah," Don said with a grin, "I see how my dating is all about you.  That's what I see."

"What dating?" Alan asked grumpily.

Charlie looked out the window at Amita, sitting in the car, working on some schoolwork.  She looked perfectly happy.  Charlie didn't know why his dad was so worked up.  Sure he could have invited her in, but he hadn't planned on taking this long, and she'd been fine waiting in the car.

He thought of what his dad had said--that Amita liked him.  Charlie had no idea what to do about it.  He liked Amita too.  And his life would be much simpler if he could do something about it.  She was beautiful, smart, was used to his idiosyncrasies--at least for the most part--and she liked him.  It didn't get more perfect than that.

Except for the fact that she wasn't Don.  And Charlie didn't think it was fair to anyone to go into a relationship when so much of him belonged to someone else.  Maybe if Don had stayed away.  Maybe if Don was in love with someone else.  Maybe then Charlie could move on.  Could fall in love with a beautiful woman.

But Don hadn't stayed away.  And Don was not in love with anyone.  In fact, he was spending most of his free time with Charlie.  He was over at the house several times a week, inviting his friends over, letting Charlie be a part of his life inside and outside of work.

Don was being all the things that had made Charlie fall in love with him in the first place.

But Charlie got lonesome for touch sometimes.  And sometimes he thought maybe he should go out with Amita.  They could date, maybe even have sex, but keep it casual.  People did it all the time.  The problem was that Charlie never did casual.  Everything he felt, he felt deeply.  He didn't really know how to do something half way, especially when it had to do with feelings. 

Deciding he better get back to Amita before his dad came in to yell at him again, Charlie gathered up his things.

Don couldn't get over how awesome his brother was.  It was odd to be so proud of him for how smart he was, when for so many years all Don could remember was how resentful he'd been of Charlie's brain.  But lately he'd been thinking that he and his brother really did make one hell of a team. 

It was helping Don let go of his Albuquerque ghosts.  So many times since he'd walked away from his life there after getting the call that Mom was dying and Don was needed at home, he'd been angry.  And most of that anger had been directed at Charlie.   

Right after Mom had died, Don had begun to retreat again.  He'd come home occasionally to make sure Dad was okay and Charlie wasn't taking too much advantage, getting a free ride at Dad's expense.  But then Charlie had bought the house, and now it was Dad getting a free ride, and Don found himself at the house all the time.  It felt more like home and family to Don than anything he'd known, including what he'd left behind in Albuquerque. 

It was a good feeling.  Family was starting to feel like a blessing instead of a curse. 

Deciding to find Charlie before he left, and to make sure he wasn't still freaked about sending Don to track twenty only for Don to end up face to face with a crazy man with a bomb, Don went in search of his brother. 

After Don found him, interrupting his conversation with Amita, Charlie watched her walk away.  Despite his reservations, he'd almost gotten up the nerve to ask Amita out.  Maybe it was the adrenalin rush of his brother almost dying again.  Of Charlie sending Don to track twenty and almost getting him killed.  Again.  Charlie needed some distance or he'd go crazy.  So, he'd worked up his nerve to speak with Amita, but before he'd gotten the words out, Don had shown up.

"I just want to tell you that you're doing great work here," Don said sincerely.

That derailed any thought Charlie might have been having about Amita.  "Oh, well, thanks.  Thank you."  In five seconds Don had blown away the competition.  Once again, Charlie couldn't imagine living in the same town with Don and being in a relationship with someone else.

"I don't think there's anyone who could have done what you did with those notes," Don said, "and I want you to know I don't take for granted what you do."

"I never thought you did," Charlie assured him.

"Good," Don said with a smile.  "So what's the deal?  You gonna ask her out already?"

Ask who out?  For a moment, Charlie didn't even understand Don's question.  How could he even think about asking someone out when Don was standing in front of him?

At the impromptu celebration at the house that night, Don listened with some skepticism when his dad told him that all his life, Charlie had wanted to impress his older brother.  Don was touched by his dad's comment, even if he found it hard to believe.  Why would Charlie need to impress Don?  All Charlie's life, he'd been the one doing the impressing. 

Amita came over to talk to him, and Don gave her his attention.  Don couldn't figure Amita out.  One minute she seemed to be interested in Charlie, the next she seemed to be interested in him.  Not that he'd do anything about it, at least not until Charlie made up his mind. 

He sort of hoped Charlie decided not to ask her out.  Not so that Don could, necessarily, but more because Don wasn't ready to share Charlie with anyone that way.  If Charlie started dating someone, he'd do it with his usual enthusiasm, and the only time Don would ever see Charlie would be at work. 

He didn't feel like sharing.

Don glanced up to see Charlie staring at Amita, a moony expression on his face, stars in his eyes.  Don guessed that Charlie was pretty far gone over her.  He quickly glanced over at Amita, to see if she was looking back at Charlie the same way.  His eyebrows went up when he saw she was off talking to Dad.

Don's eyes turned back to Charlie, startled.  His brother hadn't been looking at Amita, at least not the whole time.  Charlie had been looking at him.  With stars in his eyes. 

Glancing up again, Don caught his brother's eyes and smiled at him.  Charlie gave him a delighted smile back.

Don decided he didn't mind being stared at like that.  In fact, he kind of liked it.

Before he went home, Don tracked down his dad in the family room.  "What did the doctor say?"

"Huh?" his father answered, pulling his attention away from the television.

"The doctor, about your blood pressure."

"Don," his father began.

Don knew his dad was about to put him off.  "Don't do that," Don insisted.  "Tell me what he said."

"My blood pressure's up," his father said, reluctantly acceding to Don's demands for information.  "The medicine's not working so good anymore.  He put me on a new drug, and he wants to run some tests."

Don sat down on the couch, worried.  "What's he looking for?"

"Nothing," Alan said, waving a nonchalant hand.  "I'm fine."

Don didn't believe him.  He could see the worry in his father's eyes, and it made Don's gut hurt.  "Dad."

"Don," Alan said in return, just as chiding.

"When are you getting these tests done?"

"Next week sometime."

"You want me to go with you?"

"No, I don't want you to go with me," Alan said snippily.  Then he sighed.  "Look, I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine.  Just a little tired."

Don took a long look at his dad.  He was more than just a little tired and it bothered Don that he hadn't noticed before.  Well, he had, but he hadn't taken it seriously enough.  "What else is going on?"

When his dad began to demur again, Don glared at him.

Alan sighed again.  "My feet are a little swollen.  My back hurts."

"What else?"

"Don."

"Dad, what else?"  It was like pulling teeth.

"There's been some blood in my urine," his father said with obvious reluctance.

That sounded bad.  "What's the doctor thinking?"

Alan shook his head.

"He must have told you something," Don insisted.

Alan stared at the floor, his lips pursing and unpursing.  "Okay, but don't tell your brother.  George thinks maybe something's wrong with my kidneys."

"Dad, if you're that sick, we have to tell Charlie."  At his father's look, Don said, "I'm here for him.  For you.  We're family."

At that, Alan smiled.  "Yeah, I really think we are.  It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Feels real good," Don agreed with a smile.  Then, he got back on track.  "How sick do you feel?  You need me around more?"

"I'm fine, Donny.  Really.  You know George.  He's a worrier.  He's just making sure nothing's really wrong with me.  That's all."

"So these tests are scheduled?"

"Yes, mother," Alan said, annoyed.  "I told you, next week."

"Yeah, yeah, I know what your next week means," Don said, a grin softening his gripe.  "I got old waiting for your next week."

"I'm going in Thursday after I play golf with Stan."

"You sure you don't want me to meet you there?"

"I'm sure.  And I don't want you to do your mother hen thing, either.  You'll tip Charlie off that something's wrong."  As if aware of what he'd said, Alan frowned and added, "Which it isn't."

Don didn't want to keep secrets from Charlie.  "I'll wait until your tests come back, but if something's wrong, I'm gonna tell him.  He deserves to know."

"Why?  So he can vanish back into the garage again?" Alan said sharply.  Then he covered his face with his hands.  "I shouldn't have said that.  Don't ever tell Charlie I said that."

"Said what?" Charlie asked from the doorway.

"That you still don't load the dishwasher right," Don said, dissembling.  Now wasn't the time to spring this on Charlie.

"Hey," Charlie protested.  "It's my dishwasher now.  I can load it anyway I want."

"He's got a point, Dad," Don said.

"Yeah, yeah.  Then I'll leave it to you to load your dishwasher.  I'm going to bed."  With that, Alan picked up his book.  "Good night."

"Wait," Charlie said.  "Why didn't we meet Shirley tonight?  You've been dating her for a few weeks, now.  When do we get to meet her?"

"She already had plans," Alan explained.  "Maybe next weekend I'll have her here for dinner, all right?"

"Great," Charlie said, pleased.

Alan nodded, looking a little pensive, and then with another goodnight, he headed for the stairs.

"Night, Dad," Don said, echoed by Charlie.  Don watched his father leave, hoping like hell that nothing bad was wrong with him.  He also wondered if Shirley knew about this kidney stuff.  Don kind of doubted it.  He sighed, glanced at Charlie.  "They leave a mess out there?"

"Definitely.  Amita and Larry offered to help clean, but I told them to go home."

Don frowned.  "You sent free labor away?  And now you expect me to help you out?"

"Um, yeah?" Charlie said with a grin.

Don was okay with that. 

Getting over his surprise at Charlie's unexpected arrival at his apartment at two in the morning, Don invited him to stay and finish watching a movie, Don on the couch, Charlie in the easy chair.  Don glanced intermittently at Charlie, catching him letting out sighs a couple of times, but right after he sighed, his cheeks would bunch up in a smile, telling Don they weren't unhappy sighs.

That look on Charlie's face after Don had told him they were from two different worlds had shaken Don.  It was another reminder of how much he meant to Charlie.  And of how much he'd hurt Charlie when he'd left and essentially lost touch.  Don couldn't imagine doing it now.  He could hardly conceive that he'd ever done it.  Despite having just seen Kim, his life in Albuquerque seemed like years ago.  It was weird to think that if Mom hadn't gotten sick, Don might still be living in New Mexico and married to Kim.  Away from Charlie.

As if reading his mind, Charlie suddenly said, "She really hated me, didn't she?"

Not even pretending he didn't understand who Charlie was talking about, Don asked, "Kim?"

Charlie nodded.  "Yeah."

Don shrugged, keeping a close eye on Charlie.  "I chose you over her." 

Charlie tried to fight it, biting his lips, but finally he had to smile.  A bright, smug, trying hard not to be victorious smile.  "You did, didn't you?"  Then, ever gracious in victory, Charlie added, "And Dad and Mom, of course."

"Of course," Don agreed, a smile of his own on his face.  Don would never tell Charlie, but it was their father's worry about Charlie that got Don home so fast.  He wasn't eating, he wasn't sleeping, and he wouldn't come out of the garage.  His father's observation that Charlie wasn't handling things well had been a massive understatement.  Those words had brought Don home and away from Kim.

Don knew he could have brought Kim with him.  He'd been planning on asking her to marry him.  It would have made sense to ask her and then bring her with him.  They both could have gotten compassionate leave and come home to LA together.  And if not then, he could have called her to at least visit after he got settled.  Or Don could have gone back after Mom died and Charlie finally emerged from the garage.

But he hadn't.  He hadn't asked her once to come out.  There'd been a few brief phone calls, but that was it.  Despite how mad he'd been at Charlie and his stupid NP problem.  Despite how hard it had been to watch Mom die and make all the arrangements for her funeral.  Despite how much Don had needed someone to be there for him, he hadn't asked her to come.  He'd just hung in there with Charlie who eventually had surfaced from the garage. 

And Don loved being here now, having Charlie around so much.  Knew, that in some ways, he loved Charlie more than he'd ever loved Kim.

"She said we were a lot alike," Charlie said, breaking through Don's thoughts.

"Yeah?"

Charlie nodded.  "One part enthusiasm, two parts obsession."

Don laughed at that.  "That's not so bad."

"No.  I like it," Charlie said.

Don held out the popcorn bowl.  "Want some popcorn?"

Charlie nodded, got up, moved Kim's box to the floor, and sat next to Don.  Don put the bowl between them.  "So what are you doing up so late, anyway?" Charlie asked.

Don shot Charlie a look.  "What difference does it make?  If I'd been asleep, you'd have woken me up."

Charlie ducked his head, grinning.

"It's Saturday tomorrow.  I can sleep in," Don finally said.

"Were you thinking about Kim?"  

"Maybe," Don confessed.

"Wishing you were still together?" Charlie asked, not looking at Don.

Don studied Charlie, wondered if maybe Charlie didn't feel like sharing him either.  "No."

"No?" Charlie asked, his eyes hopeful.

Don decided Charlie would never be a good poker player, counting cards aside.  Everything he was thinking showed on his face.  "No.  I'm good.  I like it here."

"She could move here," Charlie said, wincing, as if the words were being yanked out of his mouth with his teeth.  "You could be together here."

"You want her to move here?" Don asked, watching Charlie's face, looking forward to his next expression.

"No," Charlie said quickly and emphatically.  "I didn't say that."

Don grinned.  He thought about it for a minute.  He was pretty sure Kim would come if he asked.  Maybe that was presumptuous on Don's part, though he didn't think so.  But Don didn't want her here.  As much as he didn't want Charlie to be spending time with someone else, Don didn't want to spend his time with anyone else either.  Not like that.  Not so that Charlie couldn't come over at two in the morning if he felt like it.  "It's over.  That part of my life, it's done."

"Really?" Charlie asked, everything about him shouting relief.

"Really."  Don grabbed a handful of popcorn, ate a few kernels, and then threw the rest at Charlie. 

"Hey," Charlie said, throwing a few back at Don.  Grinning, they picked up the popcorn ammunition and ate it.  "So you're staying, then?" Charlie asked, reaching into the bowl for the last few popped kernels.  "I mean, here in LA?  You like it here?"

Don leaned back against the couch, gazing at Charlie.  "Yeah, I like it here.  I'm happy."

Charlie leaned back, too.  "Yeah.  I'm happy, too."

Don woke up warmer and more comfortable than he had in a long time.  It took him a minute to realize he was actually crammed into the couch with Charlie draped all over him.  Don remembered Charlie falling asleep, but he couldn't remember dropping off himself, or lying down so they could end up tangled up in each other this way.

It took him another minute to realize that Charlie had a hard-on that was trying to drill its way through Don's thigh.  Don rolled his eyes and poked Charlie in his side.  "Hey, go to the bathroom and take care of that already."

"Hmm?" Charlie asked, melting against Don. 

Don was vaguely alarmed that his brother's sleepy-aroused voice was kind of sexy.  "Charlie," he said sharply.

"I'm sleep'n," Charlie complained, a hand creeping across Don's belly to hold him closer.  He turned his head so it was facing Don, his eyes still tightly closed.

Taking a good look at his brother, Don was momentarily arrested by how beautiful he was.  His curls were a mess, twisting every which way.  His ridiculously long lashes fanned across his cheeks.  Charlie had perfect lips, not like Don's that were more like Betty Boop's lips than he'd like to admit.

Charlie, still mostly asleep, moaned a little, and his hips arched against Don's thigh.  A flash of arousal surged through Don at the motion, at the noise Charlie made, at the way his lips parted.  Don's cock started to harden.  He tried to be analytical about it.  Sexy was sexy, Don could admit that.  And Don guessed that there wasn't anything wrong in thinking he had a sexy brother.  But that was a far cry from actually doing something about it.  Not that he would.  Not that he was even thinking about it. 

Then Charlie's eyes opened, and he stared up at Don and smiled.  A soft sleepy smile.  Don froze, like a deer caught in headlights.  Charlie's hand reached up to cradle the back of Don's head, and Charlie slowly pulled him down.

Everything moved in slow motion, and Don didn't really get what was happening until he felt Charlie's tongue flick against his lips.  Feeling schizophrenic, a part of him was totally turned on, enough to touch Charlie's tongue with his own, to part his lips wide enough to give Charlie's tongue more access, to feel how good Charlie felt in his arms.  The other part of him was screaming "what the fuck are you doing?", and it was that part that shoved Charlie off the couch to land, bam, on the floor.

He stared down at Charlie as his brother blinked a few times, rubbing his hip where he hit.  With his other hand, Charlie touched his lips, smiling a little.  Then he looked up at Don.  His eyes opened wide and raw panic crossed his face.  "Oh, shit."

Don did his best to will his erection away.  "What the fuck was that?" he demanded.  When Charlie didn't answer, Don answered for him.  "You were dreaming, right?  You thought I was Amita, right?"  Not that it was fair to blame Charlie.  Don had been wide awake and had kissed Charlie back.  What the fuck was his excuse?

Charlie's eyes moved to Don's groin, to his slightly wilted but still present erection.  "Um." 

Don slapped a pillow over himself, feeling as exposed as if he'd been lying there naked. 

"Were you dreaming?" Charlie asked cautiously.

"Look," Don said desperately, "it's nothing.  We just fell asleep and we woke up with a warm body, and it's just a guy thing.  Right?"

Don really, really wanted Charlie just to nod his head in agreement.  But Charlie didn't do that.

Sitting up, pillow still covering him, even though his erection was about gone, Don said, "It's just been a long time.  Kim and I were talking about it yesterday, how we miss it, how I miss it."

"Miss what?"

"Holding someone, you know?" Don said.  That's all it was.  He was not, absolutely not, attracted to his brother. 

"Yeah," Charlie said sadly.  "Me, too."

Don didn't like the sadness in Charlie's eyes.  He never liked it.  "Charlie."

Charlie looked away.

"Tell me it was just a proximity thing," Don begged.  "Tell me you were dreaming."

With a brief mirthless laugh, Charlie nodded.  "Yeah, I was dreaming."  He smiled tightly.  "That's all.  Sorry."  He made a vague gesture.  "You're right.  It's been a long time."

"Right.  Yeah.  Me, too," Don said, not reassured in the least.  Why should he be?  He'd gotten hard and kissed Charlie.  He scrubbed at his face with his hands.  They'd just pretend nothing had happened, and Don would completely ignore the unsettling urge he had to reach for Charlie and kiss him again.

Then Charlie looked up at him from where he sat on the floor, his eyes filled with a disconcerting want.  "Was it that horrible?" he asked softly.

It took a few seconds for the question to sink in, and then Don was off the couch and across the room, needing to be away from his brother.  "What?" he snapped out.

"Nothing," Charlie said in a small voice.

"That was not nothing, Charlie.  And apparently you kissing me wasn't nothing either," Don argued, angry, wanting last night's peace back without this morning's confusion.

Charlie shrugged, eyes on the ground.  "Forget it.  You're right.  Forget I said anything."

"You need to go," Don said.

Fear flashed across Charlie's face.  "Please, don't send me away.  It won't happen again.  I promise."

Don couldn't ever remember feeling more confused.  What he did know was that he had to put some space between the two of them right now.  "You really need to go.  I need…I don't know what the fuck I need, but you need to go.  Now."  He moved to stand by one of the windows, shifting the curtains so he could see out.

He listened for Charlie's movements but didn't hear anything.  "Don."

Don just shook his head and didn't look at Charlie.

There was a long silence, then the sound of shoes being slipped on.  Then Charlie was opening the door and shutting it behind him.

Don closed his eyes.  "Fuck."

"Where's Don been?" Alan asked Charlie, as Charlie set the table.

Charlie shrugged.  He hadn't spoken to Don at all this week.  Don wasn't returning his calls and Charlie hadn't wanted to drop by the FBI office, not wanting to be shunned by Don in public.  Not that Don would do that, but Charlie thought he'd wither even more inside if Don didn't smile at him.  If Don was completely professional.

"You two have a fight?" Alan said in a disappointed voice.

Charlie shrugged again.

Alan sighed.  "I thought you two were past that."

So had Charlie.  But that was before he'd kissed Don and ruined it all.

"I'm having Shirley over to the house next Thursday.  I sure hope you two can get over your differences by then," Alan said.  "I'd like to introduce my sons to her as adults," he added snidely.

Charlie winced a smile at him.  It was the best he could do.

"You look like your best friend just died, Charles," Larry offered very unhelpfully.

Charlie ignored him and kept writing on the board.  Maybe Larry would take the hint and go away.  He heard Larry sit down and sighed.  He'd forgotten momentarily that Larry never took a hint.

"I've been thinking lately," Larry said, "about the way society tries to control human sexuality."

That gave Charlie pause and his hand arrested in mid-symbol on the board.  "Why?"

"Well, think about it.  What one society in our world may define as taboo, another society approves and even encourages it.  Demands it, even.  Bigamy, prostitution, incest.  Who's to say where the largest harm is done--in a society that bans sexual relations of certain kinds, or a society that doesn't.  Now don't misunderstand me, I believe in a society that puts some boundaries on sexual conduct.  Without it there'd be mass chaos."

Charlie put down his chalk and brushed the dust from his hands onto his pants.  He moved to where Larry was sitting, hunched over, chin resting on laced fingers.  It was too much of a coincidence that Larry had brought this subject up now.  "What are you saying?"

"Did you know that in some societies, incest is either mandatory or prohibited, according to the person's social class?"

"No, I didn't know that," Charlie said, heart thumping.

"And look at our history, from the pantheon of Greek gods, to the Egyptian gods, to the Pharaonic Dynasties, everyone was having sex with everyone.  Sisters marrying brothers, fathers with daughters.  Even in the Old Testament, look at Noah, he slept with his own daughter."

Charlie broke out into a sweat.  Larry knew. 

"And," Larry continued, "the fact that there are so many taboos against incest tells you how common it is.  If no one wanted to do it, why make it a taboo?"  His fingers still laced, he shook a paired set of index fingers at Charlie.  "I'll tell you why.  Procreation.  Survival of a species.  Too much inbreeding ruins the genes."

Charlie swallowed against a dry throat, wishing he had something to drink.  He wasn't much for alcohol, but he'd drink anything right now.  Whiskey, gin, vodka. 

"And think of the pornography business.  How many films feature sisters having sex?"  Larry nodded his head, a small smile on his face as if he was thinking about a specific film.  "We live in complicated times, Charles."

"Why…" Charlie cleared his throat.  "Why are you telling me this?"

Larry just stared at Charlie, index fingers tapping against his chin.

"I kissed him," Charlie blurted out.  "And now he won't talk to me."  Charlie covered his face with his hands.  "I haven't seen him in days."  He let loose with a frustrated groan.  "I know it's wrong.  I just can't help it."

"Even if he was willing, Charles," Larry said, without losing his stride, telling Charlie that Larry had indeed guessed, "this would be a difficult road you'd be setting yourself on.  You'd find few who would condone a relationship like that."

"I know.  It's why I never did anything.  Said anything.  But then he moved back, and we've been spending so much time together."  Charlie shrugged, feeling sick to his stomach.  "And now he won't have anything to do with me.  I ruined everything." 

"I find that hard to believe.  I think you should have a little more faith in Don.  He cares about you very much.  He won't want anything to pull you apart."

Charlie shot Larry a miserable look.  "What if he leaves LA again?  Dad will never forgive me.  He knows something happened."  He sagged back into his chair.  "We were so happy.  Things were going so great."  Charlie touched the table with his fingers, following the grain of the wood.  "Do you hate me?" he asked softly.

"No, no, I don't hate you," Larry said kindly.

"Do you think I'm perverted?"  Charlie bit his lips, his eyes stinging at even using a word like that to describe what he felt for Don.  It felt like the worst kind of betrayal.

"Did you ever read Colleen McCulloch's book The Thorn Birds?"

Charlie shook his head.

"Hmm.  Never mind then.  I suspect," Larry said slowly, "that Don is like a sacrament to you.  Except instead of him providing you with the ability to go from the ordinary to the extraordinary, he is able to do the opposite.  He finds you in the extraordinary and allows you to be ordinary.  He's your touchstone, your lighthouse.  I've only known him well for a few months, but I must admit he carries with him a sense of safety and security.  It's tremendously alluring in these difficult times."

Charlie blinked away a sting of tears at Larry's moving and amazingly insightful description of what Don was to him.

"Perhaps the two of you are a soul cluster," Larry posited.

Charlie furrowed his brow.  "A soul cluster?"

"Yes.  Souls who spend every life together, drawn to one another.  There is a theory that many of the so-called dysfunctional relationships between people are due to the left-over energy of past lives."

"How do you know all these things?" Charlie asked, unable to stop a lopsided grin, feeling lighter at Larry's odd way of thinking, and thankful for the man's friendship.

"It's impossible to fully appreciate physics without an understanding of metaphysics and spirituality," Larry explained with relish.

"Well, oh-wise-one," Charlie said with a sad smile.  "Have any advice for me?"

"Give Don some time, and be very, very sure what you want.  As I'm reasonably certain you have no intention of procreating with the man, I'm less concerned than I might be otherwise."  Larry leaned forward.  "But don't fool yourself.  There is often a high price that must be paid when one makes decisions that puts oneself outside the norms of society."

"I'm used to not being normal," Charlie said.

"I suppose you are," Larry remarked.  "But you aren't the only one who might have to pay that price.  And I'm not just talking about you and Don.  I'm talking about your father, Amita, this school, your students.  Do you want to live a life where you have to hide your love so thoroughly or pay such a steep price if you're discovered?"

If Don was the prize, Charlie thought he might be willing to pay almost any price.  Not that anything was going to happen.  At this point, he'd be thrilled just to have Don talking to him again. 

"Now," Larry said, as he turned to face the board.  "What exactly is this that you're working on?"

Grateful for the change in subject, Charlie got up and began to explain.

Don took a rare lunch hour and came home, hoping Charlie wouldn't be there.  "Dad?" he hollered as he entered the house.

"Back here, Don," his father shouted back.

Don followed the voice to the kitchen where Alan was stirring some soup.

"What's going on with you and Charlie?" his father asked him as soon as he saw him.

"Nothing's going on," Don said defensively.  This is not what he wanted to talk about.

"Don't tell me nothing's going on," Alan retorted.  "He's moping around here like he just lost his best friend, and you haven't been by in days."

"I've been busy," Don said, annoyed, sorry now that he'd dropped by at all.

"He's your brother, Donny.  Don't forget that."

Don let out a sharp laugh.  "Trust me.  If there's anything I'm not forgetting right now, it's that he's my brother."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

Don waved a hand at his dad.  "What did the doctor say?"  Don decided the best defense was a good offense.  "And you sit.  I'll finish this up."

"I'm not an invalid yet," Alan said with a snippy pride.

"Yet?" Don asked, a tight feeling in his chest.  "What did he say?"

"He's a little concerned.  He wants me to see a specialist."

"What kind of specialist?"

"A kidney specialist."  Alan sat down heavily at the table, looking sad and weary.  "George thinks my kidneys are failing."

Don had been afraid it was something bad, but not this bad.  "How?  Why?"

"He thinks we caught it early," Alan said.  "That's a good thing, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."  Don got out a couple of soup mugs and ladled some in each.  He carried them to the table and set one on front of his father and one in front of him, and sat.  "When do you see the specialist?"

"Two weeks."

"That long?" Don asked, concerned.

"These doctors are busy people," Alan defended them.  "They have a lot of sick people to see."

"How did this happen?"

"George says it's probably from my high blood pressure.  It can damage the small vessels in the kidney so it doesn't work so great.  If it goes on for too long, your kidneys can't recover."  He pushed a brochure toward Don.  "Here, read this.  It's all in there."

"Jesus, Dad," Don said, pushing his soup to the side.  He'd lost any appetite he might have had, which hadn't been great to begin with.  "What are we looking at here?"

"If my kidneys can't recover, we're looking at dialysis or a kidney transplant."

Don stared at his father.  "A kidney transplant?"  He flipped through the booklet, none of the words sinking in.  "We have to tell Charlie."

"Fine," his dad said sharply. "You tell him.  At least it will get you two talking again."

Don's phone went off.  He felt a surge of anger, wishing everyone could leave him alone for one fucking lunch hour.  Pushing the anger aside, he answered his phone.  Thirty seconds later he was hanging up.  "I gotta go."  He picked up the booklet.  "I can take this?"

"Sure.  Go ahead."

"You gonna be all right?"

Alan nodded.  "I'll just finish up my soup and then go read a good book."

Don grinned a little.  "Sounds good, actually.  I wish I could join you."

"Maybe you could come over for dinner.  Sometime this week would be good, but I've got Shirley coming to the house for dinner on Thursday."

"Does she know any of this is going on?"

"No," Alan said shortly.

"You think maybe you should tell her?"

"I'd just as soon not scare her away," Alan said.

"Maybe it wouldn't scare her away," Don said.  "If she really cares about you, she'll stick around.  And if you really care about her, she needs to know."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Alan said with a dismissive hand wave.  "Will you come to dinner tonight?"

"I'll have to see what happens with this case.  I'll call and let you know."

"Don.  Whatever this is that's happening between you and Charlie, fix it.  If something's really wrong with me, I need to know you two are okay."

"I hear you, Dad.  We'll work it out.  I promise."

"Good.  Now get out of here."

With one last look at his dad, wishing he had the power to take everyone he loved and find a way to protect them, Don reluctantly left to meet up with David and Terry.

Charlie thought he was doing a good job not smiling too much.

Don had come for dinner.

Granted, Don wasn't smiling much, and he wasn't making much eye contact with Charlie, but he was there.

And granted he'd brought a couple of friends over, probably to create a distraction so his dad wouldn't notice that he wasn't smiling much or making much eye contact with Charlie.

But Charlie didn't care.  Don was there.  Not five feet away from him.  Playing poker.

Maybe it was just a little tiny step, but it was a step.  And Don had taken it.  Charlie wanted to take the next step, but knew he needed to let Don set the pace.  He just wished he had some idea what was going on in Don's mind.

Then Don's phone had rung, and just like that, the three of them were gone, and Charlie was left staring at a pile of chips and an empty table.  He tried very hard not to think of it as an omen of some kind.

Zeros of random orthogonal polynomials.  Yes, Charlie had a seminar to prepare for.  Yes, there were people counting on him.  But Don was asking for a favor.  He was asking Charlie to check some data for him.  Asking for help.

Charlie grabbed the flash drive from Don and then collected his papers, practically running out the front door.  He had already been pressed for time and now he had even more to do.  Charlie would manage, somehow, because there was no way he wasn't doing this favor for Don. 

Another case solved--thanks to Charlie.  Don watched Cliff Howard walk out of jail a free man and kiss his wife and daughter.  Don smiled tightly.  What a fuck up.  Granted, it was a good thing he'd figured it out, but no matter how you sliced it, an innocent man had spent a year in jail.  Don wanted to find out who the man's attorney had been and kick his ass up and down the street.

He started up the car.  He couldn't put it off any longer.  He'd fixed this mess, now he had another one to fix.  As he drove away, he punched a number in on his phone. 

"Hello?" Charlie answered.

"You got time to talk?" Don asked.

There was a long pause.  "Um.  Yeah.  I guess.  Now?"

"I'll come pick you up.  Tell Dad we're going to grab something to eat."

"Dad's out with Shirley."

"Okay.  Good, we can talk there."

"Okay.  Um, Don?"

"Yeah?"

"This isn't, this isn't going to be really bad, is it?  I mean, I just want to be prepared, you know?"

"No, Charlie.  Nothing really bad.  We just need to talk."  Don wanted to hug his brother.  He sounded so worried.  Not that Don blamed him with the way he'd been acting all week, like some bodice ripper heroine who'd had her virginity stolen.

So, Charlie had kissed him.  And yeah, it was kind of a big deal.  But, it was Charlie, and nothing about Charlie fit within the lines.  The bigger problem, in Don's eyes, was that he'd always seen himself as someone who did fit within the lines, or at least certain lines, but not so much lately.

"Don?  You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm still here.  In fact, I'm pulling into the driveway."   

"Okay.  So, um, we're okay?  I didn't ruin everything?"

"Charlie." 

"Right.  Okay.  Come on in."

Alone with Charlie.  Don took a deep breath, annoyed at how nervous he felt.  Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly.  With a sharp laugh, Don opened the car door and headed for the house. 

When Don went in, Charlie had some coffee ready, so armed with mugs they sat on the couch, a couple feet between them.  Now that Don was with Charlie, he had no idea what to say.  Finally, he said, "Was this one of the secrets you couldn't tell me?"

Charlie grimaced and nodded.  "It was sort of a big one," he said with an unhappy laugh.  "I never would have said anything.  Things were going so great between us.  We can just pretend this didn't happen." Charlie's voice was imploring.

Don considered letting Charlie take all the heat for what happened, but he couldn't do it.  For at least this conversation they both had to tell the truth.  Wishing he'd gotten a beer instead, Don said, "I kissed you back, you know.  And I wasn't asleep."

Mouth dropping open, Charlie stared at Don.  His eyes moved to Don's crotch and then quickly back to Don's face.  "You mean--?"

Don was sure Charlie was now remembering that Don had been sporting quite the erection.

"We can't do this, Charlie," Don said, wanting to stop Charlie's thoughts from going anywhere hopeful.

"But if you--"

"Charlie.  We. Are. Not. Doing. This.  We're brothers.  We are not going to be anything more."

"But--"

"Charlie."

Charlie got a mutinous expression on his face, and Don started regretting his honest confession. 

"I'm not doing this to us, or to Dad, or to our lives," Don said before Charlie could say anything.  "You might be willing to take that risk, but I'm not."

Don watched Charlie searching for words.  While he waited for Charlie to figure out what to say, Don let himself look at his brother.  The attraction was definitely there.  No doubt about it.  In fact, looking back on the last few months they'd spent together, it was like they'd been wooing each other.

Don wondered how the hell he'd been so clueless.

"If we weren't brothers," Charlie asked guardedly, "would you let me kiss you?"

"The fact of the matter is that we are brothers."  Don kept holding those words out like they were some sort of magical shield.

"I know that.  But if we weren't."

"I don't think we should have this conversation," Don said, uneasy.

"Maybe not, but I need to know."

"Answer something for me," Don said instead.  "How long have you felt this way about me?"

"I'll answer your question if you answer mine," Charlie challenged.

Don blew out a sharp laugh.  "This isn't a game."

"I know it's not a game," Charlie said hotly.  "It's my life."

Don stared at him.

Charlie dropped his head, staring at the floor.  "It's always been you, Don.  As long as I can remember wanting someone that way."

Eyes opening wide, Don's jaw dropped.  "What?"

Charlie shrugged.  "Always.  That's the answer to your question."

"Jesus, Charlie."  Don had a whole new level of respect for Charlie's ability to keep a secret.  Of course, by the time Charlie hit puberty, Don was all but gone.  Off to college, off to join the FBI, off to Albuquerque, off to Kim.  "Why?  I wasn't even here.  I wasn't even particularly nice to you." 

Charlie shot a lopsided smile in Don's direction.  "I don't know.  Why does anyone love anyone else?  I thought you were great."  Another smile.  "Most of the time," he added honestly.  He shrugged.  "You were my big brother."  As if that explained everything.

Jesus.  No wonder Charlie had thought there was some hope.  If he thought Don had been great to him before, their closeness now must have felt like a first-class seduction playing out.  "I was a jerk."

"You weren't.  You didn't let anyone pick on me at school.  You let me follow you around.  You made me eat.  And you let me sleep in your room when I had nightmares."

"I remember yelling at you a lot," Don corrected him.  "And I remember pushing you around, and dragging you to dinner, and being annoyed when you followed me everywhere.  And I sure as shit resented the crap out of you that everyone paid attention to you and none to me," Don said candidly.

"That's not how I remember it," Charlie said.  "Sure, in a lot of ways you were a typical big brother and everything that goes with that, but underneath it all you were like…like my lighthouse.  Solid and blinking a light at me to help me find my way through the rocks."  He smiled shyly.  "I stole that idea from Larry."

Don felt a tightness in his throat, feeling very undeserving of Charlie's love.  "I hurt you when I moved away.  I'm sorry."

"You came back," Charlie said, forgiving him so easily.  "Just don't leave again.  Please."

"I don't want to go.  I like it here.  I like spending time with you.  I like how close we've gotten.  But if it's too hard…"  Don didn't finish his sentence.  He didn't want to finish it.  He didn't want to leave.  Despite how weird everything had suddenly gotten, he loved Charlie, he loved being a close family again.  Liked his job, his co-workers.  He wanted to stay.

Charlie nodded, face tight. 

Don hated that he was disappointing Charlie, but he was stuck.  He couldn't do this.  Not and look in the mirror every day.  He couldn't.

"Will you answer my question?"

"Charlie."

"Just answer it," Charlie begged.  "Give me that.  I won't ever ask again."

"Yes.  Okay?  There's your answer.  If you weren't my brother, I'd go there with you.  But you are, so I won't."

Charlie leaned back and closed his eyes.

"So, maybe you should ask Amita out, you know?  Try to get past this."

Charlie's eyes opened, and his gaze was somber.  "I'm not going to get past this, Don.  I've felt this way about you for over fifteen years.  If I haven't gotten over it yet, I don't see myself getting over you any time soon."

"This thing," Don said, waving a finger between the two of them, "It's not going to happen.  It can't."  Don wasn't sure if he kept saying it to convince Charlie or himself.

"Stop saying that," Charlie said, growing annoyed.  "I know that.  I've always known it.  But then the other morning happened and…"  He shrugged again.

"I gotta tell you, I was pretty surprised by the whole thing," Don admitted.  "Looking back I can see we've been dancing around it a little lately, but I had no idea.  If I had, I would have stopped."

"I don't want you to stop.  It's been nice," Charlie said.  "The closeness.  I like it.  It doesn't have to be anything else."

"And you're gonna be all right with that?" Don asked.

There was a long pause.  Finally, Charlie asked, "What, um, how all right do I need to be?"

Don didn't know how to answer that.  Don't put me in the position where I can kiss you.  Try not to look so beautiful.  Don't touch me so often.  Stop worming your way into my heart.  The problem was that Don liked their closeness, too.  He wanted it to continue.  He wanted to be in a close relationship with Charlie.  But he wasn't naïve enough not to know that playing with temptation was a recipe for succumbing to it.

"Is it going to be weird if I touch you?" Charlie asked.  "I don't want it to be weird."

"Nah," Don said, hoping it was true.  "Well, it might be a little weird, but we'll figure it out."  They had to figure it out.  Don didn't want to leave.  And he wanted to be able to touch Charlie.  And they were in so much fucking trouble here, Don should pack up his stuff and leave for another state.  Another country.  Shit.  He and Charlie had kissed.  He'd kissed his brother.

It was weird how one minute it didn't seem like such a big deal, and the next, Don couldn't even wrap his arms around it, it seemed so huge.  Incest.  That's what it was called.  And it was illegal, and immoral, and a bunch of other I words.

"Don?"

Don closed his eyes.  "I'm drowning a little bit here.  I don't know what to do with these feelings.  I don't know what to do with your feelings.  I'm feeling remarkably ill-equipped to deal with this."  He looked at Charlie, vaguely gestured at him.  "I mean, look at you."

Charlie looked down at his jeans and scruffy t-shirt.  "What do you mean?"

Don couldn't say what he meant.  That Charlie was beautiful, that he was tempting.  And now, by the expression on his face, Don could see that Charlie was assuming the worst.  "Don't go there," Don said.

"Where?" Charlie asked, confused.

"I didn't mean anything bad."  There was no way Don was about to tell Charlie that he thought he was sexy, even all scruffy and thrift-shop dressed.

Charlie looked down at himself again, thinking and then smiled at Don.  "You like the way I look?"

Don let his head sag back on the couch.  So much fucking trouble.

They ended up going out for dinner.  Don had to get them out in public before he either ended up naked in bed with Charlie, or home packing his bags for a new life somewhere else where Charlie wasn't.

After they ordered, Don took a swallow of his beer.  "Listen, Charlie."  He sighed, not looking forward to this.

Charlie stared at him, his eyes affectionate.

Don tried not to bask in it too much.  "I need to tell you something about Dad."

Charlie's eyebrows went up.  "What?  What about Dad?"  His face grew somber.

"He's sick, Charlie," Don said, taking another, longer swallow of beer.

"What do you mean?"  The somber was morphing into panic.  "What do you mean, sick?"

"His kidneys are bad.  I guess it's from his high blood pressure."

"He's got high blood pressure?" Charlie asked, his voice high.  "Since when?"

"Since a few years," Don said.  "Hey, I didn't know either."

"Yeah, but you don't live with him," Charlie said, his head weaving a little, guilt flushing his face.  "I should know stuff like that."  His brow furrowed.  "Why didn't he tell me?"

"About his high blood pressure?" Don asked.

Charlie nodded.

Don shrugged.  "He didn't tell me either.  I don't think he would have told me any of this except I saw the bottle of pills on the table."  He spread his hands.  "Sometimes it's easier, or it seems easier, just to deal with this stuff on your own, you know?"

"We're family, Don," Charlie protested.  "He should have told us."

"It doesn't matter.  We both know now."

Charlie made a gesture with his body that sort of agreed and disagreed at the same time.  He didn't look happy.  "So, how sick is he?"

"He's seeing a specialist in a couple of weeks."

"A specialist?" Charlie said, putting his glass of soda down with a bang.  "What kind of specialist?"

"A kidney specialist."

"George is that worried about him?"

Don nodded.  "Yeah.  Yeah, he is."

Charlie squinched his face up, shifted in his seat, opened his mouth to speak a few times but didn't end up saying anything, looking more and more miserable. 

"Charlie," Don said kindly.  "I'm right here with you.  We'll get through this together, all right?  Hopefully, it's nothing bad.  He'll see the specialist, whoever it is will put Dad on some new kind of medication, and he'll get better.  Let's not borrow trouble, okay?"  Don wished he could give Charlie a hug; he looked like he really needed one.  Maybe they should have stayed at home for this talk.

"What, um, what am I supposed to say to him?" Charlie asked.

"You don't have to say anything," Don assured him.  "Trust me; he'd rather we didn't say a thing.  He really doesn't want to talk about it.  I'll keep on him about his appointment and find out what the specialist says.  Then we'll all sit down and discuss it."

"So, don't talk to him about it?"

"Yeah.  Don't talk to him."

"I can do that."  Charlie's face scrunched up again.  "You sure?  Maybe I should talk to him."

Don could just imagine that.  Charlie trying to talk to Dad, and Dad ending up having to talk Charlie off the ledge.  "No, really.  The only reason I'm even telling you is because," he stopped, letting out a short laugh.

"What?" Charlie asked, his expression stating clearly that if there was something to be amused about he really wanted in on it. 

Don smiled wryly.  "In the interests of our new policy of full disclosure, I didn't want to be keeping any secrets from you."

Charlie snickered but then bit his lip.  "No more secrets?" he asked seriously.

Don shook his head.  "No secrets.  Whatever the truth is, we deal."

"Does Shirley know?" Charlie asked.

"I don't know.  I told Dad to tell her, but you know how he is."

Nodding, Charlie reached for his drink and took a long swallow.

Don managed to keep his hands from shaking as he helped Charlie and his dad finish up staining the trim to the house. 

Charlie had almost gotten shot.

It kept running through his head like some gruesome slasher movie on a continuous loop. 

That sniper had almost taken Charlie out.  For one horrifying, gut-congealing, heart-stopping moment, Don had thought he'd reach Charlie's side, only to find his brains all over the cement.

Charlie had almost died working on a case for Don.

"Hey," Charlie said softly, nudging him with his hip.  "Are you all right?"

Don looked around, saw that his dad wasn't around and shook his head.  "No.  No, I'm not.  I'm completely freaking here."

"I'm fine, Don.  I mean, yeah, it scared the hell out of me, but I'm fine."

"Jesus, Charlie."  Don pulled Charlie in and wrapped his arms around him.  "What if he'd gotten you?  What if you'd gotten shot?  What if I was here telling Dad that I'd gotten you killed?"  Don felt sick to his stomach.

Charlie patted Don on the back, even as he fitted himself more snugly against Don.  "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Don argued.  "You're shaking as much as I am."  And he was; Charlie was shivering.

"Okay, okay.  You're right.  I'm not all right, either."

They stood there in the backyard for a long time, trembling in each other's arms, Don soaking in the living warmth of his brother.  "Jesus, Charlie."  What would he have done?  "Don't ever do that again."

Charlie let out a soft, slightly manic laugh.  "I won't.  I won't."

"Where'd Dad go, anyway?"  Don hadn't even noticed him leaving.

"He said he was tired.  He went to take a nap.  He's seeing Shirley later."  Charlie rested his head on Don's shoulders.  "I can see it now.  I can see how tired he is, how his skin color's a little off.  I should have seen it before."

"Yeah, we both should have," Don said, "but we know now, and we'll take care of him."

"And we'll take care of each other," Charlie said, still in the circle of Don's arms.

"Yeah," Don said.  He pulled back a little to smile at Charlie.  "Yeah.  You and me, buddy."  Then he remembered the shot and Charlie falling to the ground.  He closed his eyes in pain, shaking his head as if to make the memory go away.

Charlie put his hands on Don's face.  "I'm all right."

"Jesus, Charlie.  I can't get it out of my head.  Maybe you shouldn't work with me anymore."  That wasn't what Don wanted, but maybe it was for the best.

"No," Charlie said worriedly.  "Don't say that."  He pressed closer to Don.  "Don't say that.  You need me."

Don gazed at Charlie.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I do."  He could barely remember where he was anymore.  Everything in him was focused on his brother.

"Although," Charlie said with a rueful smile, "it's not like you didn't solve cases without me."

"I solved a few," Don said with a smile.  "Here and there."

"But we're good together," Charlie said insistently.

Don nodded, his body beginning to respond to Charlie's proximity.  "Charlie," he began.

"Good together," Charlie said again, interrupting.  He followed up his words by pressing his lips to Don's, one hand on Don's waist, the other sliding around Don to cup the back of his head.

Don knew he should push Charlie away.  Knew he should at least back away.  He for damn sure knew he shouldn't open his mouth, touch Charlie's lips with the tip of his tongue, shouldn't welcome Charlie's tongue into his mouth.  "Why is this happening?" he groaned.  "We can't…"  But they were.  Don's hands were cupping Charlie's face, their tongues dueling, wet and strong.

Charlie sagged against Don, taking a second to pull in a fevered breath.

Taking advantage of the brief pause, Don put a hand on Charlie's chest.  There was no pressure; Don didn't want space between them, even if he knew there needed to be space.  "We can't, Charlie."  He was like a goddamn broken record saying the same thing over and over again.

"I know," Charlie said softly, even as he leaned in again, pressing kiss after kiss on Don's lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, his jaw.  "I know we can't.  Just this, that's all.  Just right now."

Don had never understood how people could do stupid things in the name of passion, a part of him always, always in control.  But, Don had never been consumed with want, craving, like he was at this moment.  It sang through his blood, setting him ablaze. 

Charlie cupped his erection, and Don fell back against the side of the house, his desire as strong as a hurricane, his cock as hard as diamonds, the surge of orgasm already starting to curl his toes.  "Charlie," he gasped.

Moving in relentlessly, Charlie stroked him through his jeans, learning the shape of him, creating a friction that Don was helpless against.  He thrust into Charlie's hand, desperate for release, desperate for air.

Don knew Charlie was watching him, could feel his breath across his cheek, knew he was completely out of control.  Don couldn't find it in himself to care.  He opened his eyes for a second and saw Charlie's avid stare, saw the love, the desire, the hunger on Charlie's face and that was all it took.  He gasped out his brother's name again and came to pieces under Charlie's clever fingers.

Don was glad he was leaning against the house because otherwise he'd have been on the ground.  He was seeing stars, his knees felt like spaghetti, and he was having trouble breathing.  Charlie was leaning against him, doing his own panting.  Don ran his fingers through Charlie's curls, gently working his way through any tangles he found.

As his heart slowed down, his awareness of what they'd just done sank in.  He opened his eyes to find Charlie smiling at him in wonder.  "You looked so," Charlie shook his head, "so amazing.  Did I do that to you?"

A short laugh escaped.  "You see anyone else here?" Don asked.  He hung his head.  "Charlie."  He had no idea what to do.  A part of him felt he should reciprocate, that it was hardly fair he got off and Charlie hadn't.  But now that he was a little more clued into the fact that they'd just been kissing and groping each other in their fucking backyard where any of their neighbors could have seen them, let alone their dad, Don let out a moan and knocked his head back into the siding of the house.  Charlie was his brother.  They were so fucked.   

"Charlie?" his dad called from the house.  "Where'd you leave the remote control?"

Charlie's eyes widened as if it was just starting to sink in what they'd done, or more correctly, where they'd done it.  He reluctantly pulled away from Don.  "Um, I, um, I have no idea," he finally called back.

"Well, come help me look for it.  You were the last one watching the TV," his father said in an annoyed voice.

Pulling himself together, Don assessed Charlie with a critical eye, making sure he didn't look like he'd just tumbled his big brother in the back yard.  Fortunately, Charlie often looked like he just rolled out of bed.  "Go," Don said.

"Will you stay for dinner?" Charlie asked uncertainly.

Don couldn't even imagine what he looked like, couldn't imagine trying to act as if nothing had happened, that he hadn't just been mauling his brother.  "I don't think so," Don said.  "Tell Dad I had to go to work."

"Don," Charlie protested.

"Charlie," Alan yelled from the house.

"Go," Don said again. 

"You don't hate me?" Charlie asked, eyes worried.

"I don't hate you.  I don't know what the hell we're going to do, but I don't hate you."  When the worried look on Charlie's face didn't abate, Don forced a smile.  "I know I need a shower."

That got an impish grin out of Charlie. 

Don wanted to kiss him so badly he shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from grabbing him.  "You better go in or Dad's going to be out here looking for you."

Charlie nodded.  "We're okay?"

Don wished Charlie would just go in the house.  He didn't want to talk about what had happened.  He didn't want to ruin it with the words that had to be said.  Pushing away from the house, Don ran his hands through his hair, scrubbed his face.

"Don," Charlie said.  "We could--"

"Stop pushing, Charlie," Don said sharply, not wanting to hear what Charlie was going to say:  we could finish what we started, we could do this again, we could meet later at Don's apartment.  "This shouldn't have happened," he said as gently as he could, hating the words, hating the fact that Charlie would interpret this as a hurtful rejection, maybe even as a negative commentary on his technique.  "We both know it." 

Hurt blossomed across Charlie's face.  His eyes, now downcast, were shadowed.

"Damn it," Don said.  "This is impossible.  Everything about it is impossible."

"I know," Charlie said in a flattened tone. "I know.  I just--" His lips tightened.  "I better get in the house."

"Fuck."  Don grabbed Charlie's arms.  "It felt good, Charlie.  Jesus, all you did was touch me, and I shot off like a teenager."  In fact, just thinking about it now was making him hard again.  "This isn't about what I want.  Do you get that?  This isn't about that."

Charlie searched his face.

Don wasn't sure what to let him see.  Desire?  Affection?  Love?  Common sense?  How do you put that on as an expression?  Whatever was on his face must have made Charlie feel a little better, because he flashed Don a small lopsided grin.  "I guess I'll see you later."

Don nodded.  "Yeah.  Sure.  Later."

With one last look, Charlie headed for the side door.  Don stood there until the door shut behind him and then, feeling like a complete and utter coward, he sprinted for his car.

Charlie finally couldn't take it anymore.  Don had gone AWOL for three days, and Charlie was going crazy.  His emotions swung between two points like a pendulum.  One minute he'd be angry at himself for pushing, for always wanting more.  The next minute he'd be lost in the memory of Don coming apart in his arms.  The way Don's body had felt, thrusting against his hand, his head thrown back, the look of ecstasy on his face.  Every time he thought about it, it stole Charlie's breath away.

Don had been right.  It was impossible.  But now that he'd had a taste, a real taste, more than a stolen sleepy kiss, Charlie wanted it all. 

Alan had asked where Don was this morning at breakfast and Charlie had mumbled something about a case.  His dad bought it, but if Don didn't show up soon, Alan would know something was going on, especially if Don didn't show for tomorrow night's dinner with Shirley.

It annoyed Charlie that his dad was still trying to keep his illness from him.  Several times a day he felt like yelling at him that he knew.  That he could stop pretending.  But then Charlie remembered that he'd maybe have to talk to him about it if Alan knew he knew, and Charlie wasn't ready to do that, not without Don.  And maybe that made him a coward, but so be it. 

Determined to talk to Don, Charlie went to the FBI.  David smiled at him.  "Hey, Charlie."

"Hey," Charlie said back.  "Um, where's Don?"

"We all just got back.  He's downstairs doing weapons fire paperwork."

"Back?" Charlie asked.

"Yeah," David said, only half paying attention, flipping through messages.  "Drug bust."

Charlie felt absurdly left out.  He knew Don worked on cases without him, but right now, with Don not talking to him, it felt like another door being slammed on him.  Then David's words sunk in.  "Weapons?" he asked anxiously.  "Did Don get hurt?"

"Nah, but one of the agents shot one of the bad guys and that means paperwork," David said with a rueful grin.  "He'll be up in a few minutes.  Have a seat."  With that, David turned to his computer, tapping in his password.

Charlie sat at Don's desk, staring at the papers strewn about.  He saw the stack of messages, picked up the top one.  It was from Kim.  Kim had called Don.  Kim wanted Don to call her.  Charlie's jaw tightened.  Kim had called.  He forced himself to breathe.  It didn't necessarily mean anything.  It could be about a case.

Hearing voices, Charlie looked up to see Don coming around the corner.  He stood, message in hand, suppressing an urge to make a run for it before Don saw him.  But then it was too late.  Don hesitated for a second, but then walked toward him with a subdued smile.  "Hey, Charlie."

Terry walked past, heading to her own desk, "Hey, Charlie," she added.

"Hey," he said to both of them. 

Don stood there for a long moment and then he said, "Come on."

Charlie followed him into Don's private office.  Don didn't use it often; he liked using his cubicle out with his team.  Don shut the door and sat down behind his official desk.  It felt like there were miles between them.

Charlie thought of, and discarded, a thousand things to say.  To his dismay, the one thing he shouldn't have said came out of his mouth.  "Did you call her?" he asked, holding up the message.

Don cocked his head to the side, eyes squinting as he tried to see what the message said.  "Call who?"

"Kim," Charlie bit out.

"You going through my messages now?" Don asked, annoyed.

"No," Charlie tried.  He fisted his fingers, hiding the message within.  "Yes.  No, just this one."

Don sighed.  "Dad okay?"

Charlie nodded.  "I lied to him about where you were."

Don's hands fisted on the desk.  "Damn it." 

"Did you call her?"  Charlie couldn't get past that.  Couldn't get past the idea of Don calling Kim, of them getting together, maybe having a drink, kissing, touching.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I called her."

"Are you going to see her?"  He could imagine it all too clearly.  Her long legs wrapped around Don's hips as he slid into her.  Charlie had to swallow against the nausea.

"Charlie," Don called softly.

Charlie didn't want to answer.  Maybe he should leave.  And not just Don's office.  Maybe he should look at one of the myriad job offers he received on an ongoing basis.  Don liked it here.  And it would be better for their dad to have Don around.  "I could leave," Charlie spit out.

"Charlie," Don said again.

"I mean, I know you like it here.  I could go to England or back to Princeton.  Maybe just for a while."  Charlie looked everywhere in the office except at Don.  He couldn't stand to see Don nodding, agreeing that it might be best for Charlie to move on.

Charlie was sorry he'd eaten lunch before coming here.

He heard Don moving, and then he was standing in front of Charlie, leaning back against the desk.  "Charlie, I don't want you to go anywhere."

"Was it about a case?"  Charlie had to know.  He had to know if Don was going to be seeing Kim on a personal basis.  Touching her.

Don nudged Charlie's shoe.  "Hey."

Charlie stared at their feet.

Don nudged him again.  "I don't want you to go anywhere.  Don't talk stupid like that."  He sighed.  "And no, it wasn't about a case.  She wanted to get together."

The past tense was somewhat hopeful.  "So are you?  Going to get together?"

"No."

Charlie finally looked up at Don.  "No?"

Don shook his head.  "No."

"Why not?"  He felt weightless with relief.

"I don't know how to answer that," Don finally said. 

"Was it because of me?  Us?" Charlie asked.  Don drew a breath, and Charlie put up his hand, not wanting to hear the lecture.  "I know we can't.  I get that.  And I won't push again, not if it means you're going to--" He broke off, trying to think of something that didn't smack of unrequited romantic love.

"Run away?" Don finished with a wry grin.

Thrilled to see a real smile, Charlie grinned.  "Yeah, run away.  I don't like it.  I don't like not seeing you."

"Me, either," Don confessed.  "But I need to know you won't--."  Don ran a hand through his hair, brow furrowed, as if trying to decide what he should and shouldn't say.  "You make me lose control.  You touch me and I, I think things I shouldn't think and want things I shouldn't want."

Charlie saw the power Don was giving him.  "I won't do anything.  I want to, but I won't.  I want you around more than I want to…you know."  It was all a revelation to Charlie.  The fact that he could make Don lose control.  The fact that he wanted Don to lose control.  The fact that even though he'd told Don he wouldn't push, he would.  Charlie hadn't realized just how manipulative he could be.  Right now he'd tell Don anything he needed to hear to stay.  But Charlie knew that, sooner or later, he'd be pushing.

"Yeah?" Don asked.

Charlie nodded vigorously.  "Yeah," lying again.  He found himself grinning.  "Was it because of me that you're not seeing Kim?"

Don rolled his eyes.  "You just can't help yourself, can you?"

"Was it?"

Don nodded, wincing.  "Even though this can't be…" Don made a vague sweeping hand gesture, "I still feel--I'm invested in you, Charlie.  You know what I mean?"

Charlie knew exactly what Don meant.  He drew in a breath and let it out, trying to keep the smile off his face.  Maybe they couldn't have sex--yet--Charlie amended, but Don was still his.  "Come for dinner tonight," he said.  "It'll make dad happy."

"Okay.  I need to finish up a few things here, first," Don said.  "You on your bicycle?"  Charlie nodded.  "Want to wait for me?" Don asked.  "I can throw your bicycle in the back of the truck."

Charlie thought that was a great idea.  This way he could make sure Don came over for dinner.  "Can I use your computer?" Charlie pointed at the one in the office, the one Don hardly ever used.

"Will I be able to get you out of here when I'm ready to go?" Don teased.

Charlie grinned back, feeling the rough edges between them smooth away.  "I'll call Dad, tell him you're coming over."

"Sounds good," Don said, standing straight, heading for the door.  Then he turned back and grinned.  "Guess it's a good thing I don't need Kim's number."

"Why's that?" Charlie asked, going around the desk to sit in Don's chair.

"The message," Don said.

Charlie looked at his hand where he was still holding the message, or what was left of it.  He hadn't even noticed that he'd torn it to pieces.  Sixty-four pieces, to be exact.  He let the pieces snow all over Don's desk.  "Good thing," Charlie said with a smug grin.

Snickering, Don opened the door, letting himself out.

Don liked Shirley.  She was a no-nonsense lady with a good sense of humor.  She was friendly with him and Charlie but without any of that weirdness of needing them to like her as a way to get to Dad.

She corralled him in the kitchen after dinner.  "What's wrong with your father?" she asked with no preamble.

"What do you mean?" Don said, stalling for time.

"I know he's sick, but he won't say anything to me."

Don scrunched his face up.  "I have to practically handcuff him to the table to get him to talk to me," he offered.

She grinned.  "Are you suggesting I use handcuffs, Don?"

"Hey," Don protested.  "I do not need that image in my head, thank you very much."

"Does he have some incurable disease?" she asked, relentless.

"No," Don said quickly, surprised she'd gone for that so fast.  "There are things they can do, but I don't feel right saying anything else.  He needs to tell you.  I've told him he needs to tell you."  He put down the hand towel.  "How about if Charlie and I make ourselves scarce, and you make him talk, okay?"

She nodded, then grinned again, total imp.  "Got an extra set of handcuffs I can use, Agent Eppes?"

Yeah, Don liked her.  Laughing, Don went to get Charlie and make good their escape.

Don sat in his car in the CalSci parking lot, wondering how his life had gotten so fucked.  And even more than that, why the hell it felt like such a turn on.  This thing with Charlie, even though it was wrong, sizzled through Don's blood like champagne.  He felt more alive now that he had in years.

Being with Charlie was dangerous because it was so tempting.  Don had started rationalizing with a vengeance.  Like some cliché with the devil on his left shoulder and an angel on his right, the voices spoke back and forth in his head. 

The devil's voice sounded so reasonable: Who would it hurt?  They could keep anyone from finding out.  No one ever had to know except the two of them.  They were both consenting adults.  Only he and Charlie would know.  They'd already kissed, Don had already come in Charlie's arms, the damage was already done, why not go for more?

The angel's voice was much more unpleasant.  It's wrong.  It's incest.  It's immoral.  It's illegal.  You should transfer to another office.  You should be the older brother and stop this now. 

Then it would be the devil's turn again, bringing on the memory of how it had felt to kiss Charlie, to have Charlie's hands on him.

The angel had nothing to offer in return except loneliness.  Losing the family Don had so recently found, leaving the best team he'd ever worked with. 

Over the last couple of weeks, Charlie had kept his word by keeping his distance.  Not much of a distance, but there hadn't been any hugs or other invasions of Don's personal space.  And there certainly hadn't been any kissing, or touching, or groping.  Don wasn't sure if he was glad or disappointed about that. 

The hardest part about the whole thing was Don having to recognize that he could be this out-of-control.  That he could crave something so bad for him.  That he could continue to place himself in temptation's way like a bullfighter with a red flag, shouting at the bull to bring it on.  Don could have died happy not knowing this about himself.

But even as he thought that, he knew it wasn't true.  As conflicted as he felt, as difficult as it was to deal with the dissonance between his mind and his body, the passion he was experiencing was life-expanding.  It was like he'd been living in a black and white world, and suddenly he'd been slammed down in the middle of an explosion of color.

Don wondered how long he and Charlie could exist like this.  Wanting so much but denying it.  Keeping a proper space between them when the attraction was so strong Don kept expecting to see actual sparks. 

His angel started up again.  It's wrong.  It's incest.  Stuck on repeat.  Don felt like a junkie who couldn't stay away from the source.  He felt trapped.  He should leave.  Right now, he should start the car up and drive back to his apartment.  He should start packing, put in a request for transfer.  He knew it.  But, he didn't want to do it.  Any of it.  Did that make him and Charlie ending up in bed inevitable?  Maybe.   

Don got out of his SUV, shutting the door behind him, using the remote to lock it up.  Just the thought of seeing Charlie was giving him butterflies.  Tired of his careening thoughts, Don walked toward Charlie's building.

As he approached the door, Larry came out.  "Larry," Don called.  "Charlie inside?"

Larry hesitated, then nodded.  "He is.  He's, um, how shall I say this?  He's reflecting," Larry finally said.

"Moody?" Don guessed.

"That would be a good description," Larry admitted.  "This case, these sabermetrics, they've left Charlie in a bit of an ethical quagmire."

Don wondered when that had happened.  Sure, Charlie had been distraught, but Don had just assumed it was due to finding out Scott was the one who'd murdered his professor.  "He in his office?"

"The library," Larry corrected. 

Don nodded, smiled and was about to walk away when he saw the oddest look on Larry's face.  "Was there something else?" Don asked.

"No," Larry said hesitantly, still staring at him with an odd expression.  "It's just…" he shook his head.  "No.  It's none of my business.  I'm just going to take myself home and make some dinner."

"You sure?  You look like a man with something on his mind," Don said.

"Yes, I'm sure," Larry said more definitely.  "Go on in there and take him home.  All that brooding can't possibly be good for him."

Don let out a quick laugh.  "I think he's gotten desensitized to it.  It's the rest of us who have to suffer."

Larry smiled, waved good night, and continued his way to the parking lot.  Don made his way up the stairs and into the building, wending his way to the library. 

Charlie was curled up on one of the sofas, staring at one of the chalkboards that had equations scribbled all over it.  "What's up?" Don asked, his mind trying to make sense of what was written there, but he could only tell it had to do with probabilities, like so much of Charlie's work. 

"Hey, Don," Charlie said, his expression lightening at Don's appearance.  "You see Larry?"

Don nodded.  "Yeah.  You working on Hoke's sabermetrics?"

Charlie shrugged, eyeing the board with some distaste.  "Scott said it was worth the sacrifice.  Even if his life is ruined, even if he spends the rest of his life in prison, he thinks it was worth it to stop Hoke from putting any of this into practice."

Don sat down a few feet from Charlie.  "And?"

"I don't understand that way of thinking," Charlie admitted.

"And you think this is a bad thing?" Don asked.  "Personally, I think it's a good thing you don't understand it.  The guy was a whack job."

"He believed what he was doing was right."

Don frowned.  "He was reacting out of his own fears.  He could have tried other routes first before committing cold-blooded pre-meditated murder.  He could have spoken to the guy, raised a stink with the press, even just wiped his computer.  There were a lot of things he could have tried first."

"How do we know he didn't?"

"Because no one had any idea Scott hated what Hoke was working on.  When we started poking around looking for our murderer, someone would have pointed us Scott's way to keep us from looking their way."

Charlie bit at his bottom lip for a few moments.  "I never really thought about what my work was being used for," he said, out of the blue.

"What?  Where's that coming from?"

"The work I've done for the NSA.  I never really thought about it.  But now that I have, I'm sure they use my work to help them decide how best to kill people."

"Maybe," Don admitted, "or maybe they use it to decide how to best protect our troops."

"Or which of our troops are expendable," Charlie said morosely.

"Someone would be making that call anyway," Don said sensibly.  "Isn't it better that they have a way of making a better decision with the work you do, then for someone to do it with a lot less information?"

Charlie thought that over.  "Maybe," he finally conceded.  He waved at the board.  "Larry said I should forget this."

"Why would you even want to work on it?" Don asked.

"Because it's there?  Because it's brilliant?"  Charlie sighed.  "When does right and wrong come into the situation?  When I do work for the NSA, I don't ask them what my solutions will ultimately be used for; I don't make anyone promise that no one will be hurt by what I do."

Don stood up, went by the board.  "I don't need an equation to tell you any of this.  If you showed me a map, I could give you all sorts of probabilities as to a kid's chances of growing up to be a gang member, getting in trouble with the police, being involved in a violent crime.  Even surviving until he was eighteen years old."  He tapped the board.  "The way I see it, this isn't about that.  This is about shutting doors on the kids who might have the potential to get past the bullshit.  This is about telling someone he might as well not even bother trying."

Charlie's eyes ran over the equations on the board, finally coming to rest on Don.

Don picked up an eraser and waved it a little, raising his eyebrows in question.

Charlie winced but nodded.  "Go ahead."

With long sweeps, Don erased the board.  When he was done, he put the eraser down on the tray and brushed off his hands.  Charlie was looking at the board as if he could still see the numbers.  He probably could.  "Okay?" Don asked him.

"I like the order numbers gives to things," Charlie admitted.  "I'm not particularly comfortable with how messy life is."

Don raised his eyebrows skeptically at his brother.  Considering the chaos recently introduced into their relationship, Don wasn't sure he believed those words.  Charlie seemed to have a propensity for jumping feet first into messy.

As if he'd read his mind, Charlie waved a dissembling hand, "Well, I like some things messy."  Then he reddened.  "I didn't mean it like that."

Don snickered.  "Uh huh," he teased.

"Was there, um, was there a reason you stopped by?" Charlie asked quickly, attempting to change the subject.

"Yeah," Don said, growing serious.  "Dad saw the specialist today.  I want to go home and find out what happened.  I thought we could do it together."

Charlie swallowed.  "What if he's really sick?"

"We'll deal, Charlie.  That's what families do."

Scrunching his face up, Charlie looked away.

Okay, Don thought, so not everyone deals.  "Charlie, let's wait and hear what he has to say, okay?" 

With a sigh, Charlie nodded.  "You want to go now?"

"Is there anything you need to stay for?"

"No."  He waved at the board.  "Not anymore."

It was the fact that Alan was pretending that everything was fine that clued Don into the fact that everything wasn't.  For the duration of dinner, Don played along, and Charlie was taking his cues from Don, so he didn't say anything either.

After the two of them had cleared the table, Don and Charlie joined their father who had gone to sit by the television.  When Alan picked up the remote, Don gently took it from him.  "Time to talk, Dad."

Alan sighed. 

"Just say it," Don coached him.  "I'm not leaving until I hear what the specialist said."

There was a long pause and another sigh.  Finally Alan said, "George was right.  My kidneys are failing.  And Dr. Warder says it's irreversible."

"And?" Don pushed.

"And nothing," Alan said sharply.  "You wanted to know what he said, that's what he said."

"What happens now?" Charlie asked quietly.

"I go on dialysis," Alan informed them.

Don shook his head.  "I don't think so."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alan snapped.

"It means I've been doing some reading, and it means I've been talking to George," Don sniped right back.  "The only reason you should go on dialysis is if you don't have a kidney donor available, and while I can't speak for Charlie, you've got at least one kidney sitting right here in front of you," Don put his hand on his right upper abdomen, "and it's got your name on it."

Charlie winced a little but nodded.  "Me, too, dad.  Of course I'd give you a kidney.  I'd, uh, I'd just as soon not be there when they take it out, though."  He managed a lopsided smile.

"I can't ask either of you boys to do that," Alan protested.

"I don't remember you asking either of us," Don protested.  "All I hear is kidneys being offered up."  Alan made as if to argue more, but Don leaned forward.  "Dad, everything I read says that you'll have a much better quality of life with a kidney transplant, and that your overall survival time doubles if you get a living donor.  If one of us is an HLA match, you'll do even better, but even if we're not, a living donor kidney is still better than a cadaveric one and way better than dialysis."

Alan frowned but didn't say anything.

"And I'm moving back in," Don suddenly announced, the words coming out of his mouth even though it was the first he'd thought of it.  But it felt right.  He glanced at Charlie.  "If that's all right with you," he added.

Charlie was nodding emphatically.  "Yeah, yeah, that's great.  Sure."

"You don't need to do that, Don," Alan said.  "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"I won't give up my apartment," Don said, "I'll just move back home until we're through this."

"Are you going to let me have my way in any of this?" Alan griped.

"No," said Don.

"Nope," said Charlie.

Alan tried to look mad, but he looked more relieved than anything.

"Did you tell Dr. Warder that you were going to do dialysis?" Don asked.

"I told him I had to think about it."

"But he said you were a candidate for a kidney transplant?" Don questioned.

"He needs to do more tests if I decide to do that."

"Okay, then," Don said, feeling like a man with a plan.  "You call him tomorrow and tell him you've got two donors on tap, and we'll all get tested."

"We don't have to do this right away," Alan said with a frown.

"Yeah, we do.  George told me it's better for you not to go on dialysis at all if we can help it.  And he said that the longer we wait, the more whacked out your blood's going to get and you'll have to go on dialysis."

"George has a big mouth," Alan sniped.

"George cares about you, just like we do," Don responded.

Charlie nodded his agreement, eyes a little shadowed.

"I just don't think I could live with myself if something happened to either one of you because of me," Alan confessed.

"From what I've read, the risk to the donor is fairly minimal, no more than going through any other type of surgical procedure under anesthesia," Don said.

"Which isn't exactly a walk in the park, Don," Alan said.

"You're worth it," Don said implacably.  "You're not talking me out of this.  Besides, the same is true for us.  How do you think we'd feel if something bad happened to you if we could have prevented it?  Do you really want to spend several hours, three times a week, hooked up to some machine?  Never being able to eat the foods you like, feeling crappy all the time?  Because that's what your life will be like.  Even if you do that peritoneal dialysis, the stuff you can do at home, it'll still be a pain in the ass.  A transplant will give you the most freedom to live your life the way you do now."

Alan sighed.

"Does Shirley know?"

"She, um, she went with me to the appointment," Alan confessed.

Don's eyebrows went up.  For a second he was annoyed that Alan had let her come when he'd said no to Don, but then he was glad his dad had had someone with him.   Shirley was good for him.  "She okay?"

Alan sort of shrugged and nodded his head yes and no.  "She's mad at me."

"Because you weren't planning on asking us to give you a kidney?" Don guessed.

"Yeah, and because I told her she couldn't ask you."

Don smirked at his dad.  "Not the best plan you've ever had."

Alan shot him a disgruntled look.  "I like to take care of myself."

"I get that," Don said.  "But sometimes we all need a helping hand and that's what families are for.  There's no way we're not helping out, so you might as well just get used to the idea."

Alan leaned back in his seat.  "You're good boys," he said.  "Both of you."

Don tried not to guess what his father would say about both of them if he knew what they'd done behind the house.  If he knew that even now Don's whole being was oriented on Charlie.  "Why don't you call Shirley?" Don suggested.  "You can complain to her about your pushy sons."

Charlie got up and retrieved the phone for his dad.  "Here."

Alan took the phone.  When Don and Charlie continued to stand there, he glared at them.  "A little privacy, please?  If it's not too much to ask?"

Don stood, hands up in a placating gesture.  "We're going, we're going."  He and Charlie walked out to the patio.

"Where are we going?" Charlie asked.

"I'm going back to my apartment to pack a bag," Don said.  His inner voice cautioned: don't ask him to come with you.  His outer voice said, "Want to come with me?"

"Sure," Charlie said, looking surprised and pleased to be asked.

Don almost warned him about keeping his hands to himself but then decided he was tired of putting it all on Charlie.  Jesus, he was a grown man who was more than capable of keeping his hormones in check.

Right.  With a snort, Don left the patio for the driveway where his car was parked, Charlie right behind him.

When they got back, Don grabbed his bag and entered the house, wanting to unpack and get himself settled.  Alan's car was still in the driveway, but there was a note saying he was going to Shirley's and not to expect him until tomorrow.  Don's eyebrows went up and he whistled.  "You go, Dad," he said with a grin, very glad Alan had someone besides him and Charlie to spend time with.  The fact that Alan was spending the night with her told Don that things were serious between the two of them.  Don didn't think his dad had slept with anyone since Mom had died. 

He turned to talk to Charlie, only to find him gone.  Don could hear the television turning on and channels being surfed through.

Don frowned as he retrieved a beer from the refrigerator.  Not only had there been no touching of any kind, Charlie had hardly spoken.  Don had tried a couple of times to talk to him, but Charlie had answered in monosyllabic grunts until Don had given up.  He wasn't sure if Charlie was freaked about dad, freaked about possibly giving up a kidney, or freaked about Don.  All three together were sort of a lot to deal with.

Deciding to let Charlie stew for a few more minutes, Don headed upstairs to his old room.  It only took him a short time to put his clothes away and set up his toiletries in the bathroom.  Weird.  Like setting back the clock.  Him and Charlie sharing a bathroom down the hall from their parent's room.

The television turned off.  Don heard the side door open and the sound filled Don with a sort of dread.  He bounded down the stairs chasing after Charlie, grabbing him by the arm.  "Where are you going?" Don asked angrily.

Charlie pointed toward the garage.  "I need, um…I have to…"

"Don't," Don spat out.  "Don't you dare go into that garage."

"Don," Charlie began helplessly.

"I mean it, Charlie.  This isn't about you.  The world isn't just about you.  This is about us, about our family, about me.  I need you," Don blurted the words out, hating how vulnerable they made him feel.

Charlie's eyes opened wide.

"I…need you," Don said again, feeling the anger anew at Charlie's abandonment when their mother was dying.  "And if you go into that garage and start working on some fucking problem and leave me alone out here again, I will never, never forgive you." 

There was a long, painful passage of time.

Then, his eyes on Don, Charlie walked right into his arms, holding him tightly.  "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry.  I'm right here, Don, I'm right here."

Don held him tightly in return, letting the conciliatory words wash over him, viciously rejoicing that he'd won over the fucking math.  He buried his face into Charlie's curly hair.  "I need you," he said again, something inside of him freed now that he'd said it.

"You got me," Charlie whispered back. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"You and me, Charlie," Don said pulling back just enough to see his brother's face.  "We'll get through this together.  You and me.  Whatever happens."

Charlie nodded, eyes bright with unshed tears.  "You and me."

There was a moment that stretched between them where Don could have kissed Charlie.  Lowered his head and taken Charlie's lips.  Let this one moment turn into dozens more, maybe a night full of them.  But he didn't want anything turning this moment, this victory, into something he'd be ashamed of later.  So he buried his face back into Charlie's curls, and did his best to ignore the heat between his legs, and the soft kisses Charlie bestowed on his hair.

As he, David, and Terry, looked over some photographs, Don said, "I'm moving back home for a while."

"Home as in?" Terry prompted, looking nervous.

"With my dad and Charlie," Don explained.

Looking relieved, Terry nodded. 

"How come?" David asked, reaching for another picture.  They were trying to put them in panoramic order.

"My dad's sick.  It'll be easier to keep an eye on him and Charlie if I'm there.  Lately, I'm spending more time there than my apartment."  He grabbed a different picture.  "Try this one."

That one tied two other pictures together, and the one David had selected finished the scene.  "You see anything?"  Somewhere in this picture was a clue, all they had to do was find it.

"Is he going to be all right?" Terry asked.  "Your dad?"

"We hope so," Don said.  "He needs a kidney transplant."

Both Terry and David looked suitably anxious about that.

Don leaned back.  "The main reason I'm telling you this is so you know not to look for me at my apartment.  The second reason is that I'm being tested to be a donor.  Unless something goes wrong, either Charlie or I'll be donating a kidney, and in either case, I'll be out for a while."

"You need anything," Terry said, "we'll be here."

"Absolutely," David agreed.

"Thanks," Don said, flashing both of them a small grateful smile.  "Okay, let's see if any of those other pictures will tell us anything." With that, all three of them got back to work.

"Charles?" Larry asked.  "Is everything all right?"

Charlie looked up from where he was moodily draped over his desk.  "Hey, Larry."

"I'm sensing a disturbance in the force," Larry said with a small smile.  "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

"My dad is sick," Charlie admitted.  "His kidneys have failed and he needs a kidney transplant."

Larry's eyes shot wide open and he sat down.  "Good Lord, Charles.  This is serious."

Charlie nodded morosely.  He was finding it very difficult to concentrate on anything.  He just wanted to be with Don so he could draw strength from him.  Maybe it was cowardly of him, but if Charlie couldn't withdraw into his numbers, he needed to depend on Don.

"I don't even know what to say," Larry continued.  "What are you going to do?"

"Don and I are being tested to see if either of us can donate a kidney," Charlie said.  They'd been scheduled for early next week. 

"How is your father?  Does he need anything?  Do you need anything?"

Charlie shrugged.  "He's okay.  They caught it before he got in really bad shape, but unfortunately, not early enough to reverse it.  He can get around.  He's just really tired and has to watch what he eats."

"And you?"

"Don moved in," Charlie said.  "He wants to be closer to Dad."

"And to you, I expect," Larry said.

"Yeah."  Charlie pushed a pen around his desk.  "He told me if I went into the garage, he'd never forgive me."  Larry had been there through all of that.  He'd tried to get Charlie out of the garage a couple of times, but his presence had barely registered. 

"Ah," Larry said.  "I'm tempted to say 'good for him' but I'd truly hate for that pen to become intimately acquainted with my anatomy."

"It's hard for me," Charlie said.  He waved an angry hand over the desk.  "I understand it's hard for everyone, but--" He shrugged. 

"I imagine having Don around will help, won't it?"  Larry considered him for a moment.  "Or does it make everything even more complicated?"

"No," Charlie said quickly.  "No, I want him there.  He's--" Charlie shrugged again, annoyed that he couldn't seem to find the right words to say.

"He's your garage replacement?" Larry guessed.

Charlie nodded. 

"I suspect that's one of the reasons he moved in with you two," Larry offered. 

"I'm thirty years old," Charlie said softly.  "Shouldn't I be able to take care of myself?"

"Charlie," Larry said kindly, "we all bring who we are to the table.  We all have strengths and weaknesses and, together, we complement each other.  You can do things that few others in the world can do.  The fact that the painful vicissitudes of life can discombobulate you isn't anything to be ashamed about."

"They don't seem to bother Don."

"And, as I've said before, I think that's part of his appeal, certainly to you.  I'm sure Don has his own set of weaknesses that draws him to you, as well."

Charlie wasn't sure what he had to offer to counter Don's weaknesses.  Don worked too hard.  Don spent all his time mired in the worst that the world could offer.  Don wouldn't sleep with Charlie.  Charlie sighed.  "Sorry," he said to Larry.  "I'm not very good company."

"How about going for something to eat?"

Charlie shook his head.

Larry pursed his lips.  "I'm afraid I must insist.  Come on, get up."     

Charlie looked at him in surprise.  "You're insisting?"  He found himself grinning at the thought. 

At that moment, Amita walked in.  "Hey, guys," she called out.

"You're just in time.  We're about to take Dr. Eppes out for lunch to cheer him up."

"Oh, okay," she said, willing enough.  "Why does he need cheering up?"

"He," Charlie grumbled, "is right here, and he doesn't need to be cheered up."

Larry sighed dramatically.  "I'll call Don if I have to.  It's late, and I know you haven't eaten.  You'll feel better after you eat."

Charlie glared at Larry suspiciously.  "Did Don put you up to this?"

"No, but I'm sure he would have if he'd thought of it," Larry said with a smile.

Charlie supposed he should be glad Don hadn't thought of it.  Then he wondered who'd be making sure Don ate.  He stood up, shrugged into his jacket, and then, holding up a finger to Larry and Amita, picked up the phone and dialed Don's cell phone.

"Eppes," came Don's voice over the phone after two rings.

"Hey, it's me," Charlie said.

"Hey, Charlie," Don said, the affection in his voice almost as good as a hug.  "You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine.  I'm just calling to tell you that Larry and Amita are forcing me to have lunch, and I decided to call you to make sure you ate, too."

There was a long pause, and then Don said, "Are you taking care of me, Charlie?"  There was real pleasure in the question.

"I guess I am.  Is that all right?"

"Yeah, it is.  Thanks.  Say hey to Larry and Amita for me."

"Will you be home for dinner?"

"I hope so.  I'll call you if I can't make it."

Charlie grinned, feeling married for a minute.  "Yes, dear," he quipped.

"Do I need to pick up some milk on the way home?" Don teased.

Charlie wanted to tell him that he just wanted him home, and how glad he was that Don was living with them now, and how much he wished he were with Don right at that moment.  But instead, Charlie said, "I'll see you later.  Go eat."

"Yes, dear," Don said with a laugh, echoing Charlie's words.

Charlie hung up, smiling.  He realized he was really hungry.  "Where are we going?"

"There's a new Greek restaurant on Sandcastle I've been meaning to try," Amita suggested.

"Sounds good," Charlie said, checking for his wallet and keys.  He clapped Larry on the shoulder.  "Thanks."

Larry gave him a very pleased smile in response.

"Don," Alan said after dinner, while Charlie was on the phone with one of his students.

"Yeah, Dad."  Don looked up from the television.  "What's up?"

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you," Alan started, but then stopped.

Don waited for a while but Alan didn't speak again.  "And?" he prompted.

"It's just that your mother and I--."  He stopped again.

Don shut off the television.  "Is this going to be a will conversation?  Because I'm not sure I'm ready for that."

"No, no," Alan assured him, "although we probably need to have that conversation, too.  You are the executor of my will."

"I know that, and I saw the last revision.  I think we're good."  Don didn't want to talk about his dad dying, especially when they weren't anywhere near that point yet and, hopefully, wouldn't be.  "So, if it's not about the will, what's this about?"

Alan opened his mouth and shut it a couple of times.  Then he sighed.  "Maybe we should just get Charlie checked out to be a donor."

Don furrowed his brow.  "Why?  My kidneys not good enough for you?" he asked with a grin.

"No, nothing like that.  I just think that in your line of work, it's better to have two kidneys."

"I second that," Charlie said, joining them.  "If it comes down to a choice, I think it should be me."

"And I think we should wait until the lab tests come back and then make a decision," Don said.  "I appreciate the sentiment, but Charlie and I are both scheduled for our tests next Tuesday.  We can have this conversation when we get the results back."

Charlie and Alan shared a look which both exasperated and warmed Don.  At that same moment his phone rang.  He answered it, listened to the caller for a few seconds.  "Okay, I'm on my way now."  Hanging up, he stood.  "I gotta go."

"You need me for anything?" Charlie asked.

Don almost asked him if that was a trick question, but he managed to keep the words inside where they belonged.  "Not tonight.  I'll let you know tomorrow what's going on."

"Actually you can let me know tonight," Charlie countered.  "You live here now."

Don grinned.  "Then I'll tell you later."

"Good," Charlie said.  "That's good."  He glanced at his dad.  "That's good."

Alan nodded, rolling his eyes.  "It's wonderful.  Try not to slam the door when you get home.  Oy.  It's like neither of you ever left."

Don snickered, grabbed his coat and his car keys, and headed out the door.

Later that night, Charlie sat in the living room, waiting for Don.  He wasn't sure which was worse.  Waiting for Don like a worried spouse, hoping like hell Don was coming home in one piece, or not waiting for Don because he'd be going home to his apartment when he was through for the day.

It didn't take long to decide it was better waiting, knowing Don was coming here.  Definitely.  It seemed no matter how close Don got, Charlie wanted him closer.  And now that Don was living here, Charlie was determined to figure out a way to get him to stay.  He didn't care that it was torture having Don in the bedroom next door, or that they had to watch everything they said and did in front of Dad.  All he wanted was to be around Don.  And he wanted Don to want to be around him. 

He heard Don's SUV drive up and park and let out a sigh of relief.  Not that there was any reason to suspect that Don had been in danger, but there was always a possibility.  Don put his key in the lock and a second later the door opened.

"Hey, Don," Charlie said from the darkened living room.

"Hey," Don said back.  He walked into the living room and sat down next to Charlie.  "What are you still doing up?"

Charlie shrugged.

Don grinned.  "Waiting for me?"

Charlie shrugged again, smiling, embarrassed.

"Thanks, buddy," Don said, punching him lightly on the arm.  "It's kind of nice to have someone to come home to."  His eyes met Charlie's and they told a deeper story even though Don quickly looked away.  But not fast enough that Charlie hadn't seen that Don wished it was more. 

Charlie almost grabbed Don to kiss him, but forced himself to stay put.  If he pushed too hard too fast, Don had a place to run to; he could go back to his apartment.  But it was beyond Charlie not to push a little.  "Can we," Charlie started.  "Before, you know, sometimes we--" He broke off, wanting this to be easier.

"Spit it out," Don said.  "I'm not getting any younger."

Charlie inched toward Don.

Don looked like he might run.

Charlie put up his hand as if quieting a wild animal.  "Before this whole thing started, you know, between you and me, sometimes we'd just sit together, you know?  Like a hug.  That's all I want."  That was another whopper of a lie.  What did it mean that he loved Don to distraction but kept lying to him?

"Just a hug?" Don asked.

Charlie nodded, inching closer.  "Just a hug."

Don put his arm up on the sofa, and Charlie took that as an invitation to move into Don's arms, resting his head on Don's shoulder.  One arm snuck behind Don's back, the other across his stomach.  Charlie let out a sigh, relaxing into the hug. 

Don returned the embrace, his hands meeting across Charlie's back.  Don rested his cheek on the top of Charlie's head.  "This is nice," Don said softly.

It was wonderful.  Charlie loved it.  He loved Don.  He snuggled more deeply into Don.

Don's hands began to lightly caress Charlie's back.  He let out a contented hum that shot right to Charlie's cock.  Charlie did everything he could to keep his body from conveying his arousal to Don.  He didn't want Don to move. 

The sweep of Don's hands moved lower and, for a thrilling moment, Charlie thought they'd go lower still, touching his ass.  But, instead, Don pushed Charlie away.  "I gotta go."

"Stay," Charlie pleaded.  "We'll get used to it again.  Just ignore it." 

"Ignore it?" Don asked with a mirthless laugh.  "We're both hard as rocks.  Not the easiest thing to ignore."

So much for keeping his erection a secret, Charlie thought with a pang.  Although, he'd had no idea Don was hard.  It was dangerously tempting to find out for himself, especially as he was sure Don wouldn't stop him.  Charlie just managed to keep his hands to himself.  "I want this," Charlie said softly, lying again.  "Just this kind of touching.  If I can have this, I can do without the rest of it."

"This is so stupid," Don said.  But his arms were back around Charlie and that was all Charlie cared about.

"He wants you, you know," Charlie said quietly with an edge of hostility, watching as Agent Cooper packed up the few things he had scattered around the office.  Don was about to drive him to the airport where he was planning on renting a car.

"Who does?  What are you talking about?"

"Agent Cooper," Charlie replied darkly.

Don cracked his neck from left to right, then sighed.  "Charlie…"

Don's lack of denial started a horrible thought percolating through Charlie's brain.  The way a math answer simply came to him, this answer did too.  "You slept with him, didn't you?" Charlie said accusingly.

"Charlie…"

Charlie stopped him with an impatient wave of his hand, overwhelmed with jealousy.  No, not jealousy.  Jealousy was too tame a word.  Just the thought of Don and Billy was enough to make Charlie want to scream the building down.

"Charlie," Don started again.  "It's old news.  It's over.  It was over a long time ago."

"But you did sleep with him?"

Don hesitated but then nodded.

"You've slept with a man?"  Charlie couldn't stand the thought.  Even if he and Don never did anything else, ever, past the kissing and that one time behind the house, he had been naïve enough to think that he had been the only man.

Don nodded again, more guarded now.

"How many?"  

Don frowned.  "Does it matter?  It's in the past."

"Doesn't mean it can't happen again, though, does it?" Charlie said belligerently.

"Shh," Don warned him.  "Charlie."

Charlie glanced around to see if anyone was noticing him and Don.  Other than the usual curiosity, he didn't see anything to be worried about.  Charlie glanced at Agent Cooper again.  Remembered how he tended to lean into Don, whisper in his ear.  Charlie could see them in bed together, fucking each other.  He shut his eyes tightly, trying to dispel the image.  He was so stupid.

He felt a hand on his arm.  "Charlie.  Look at me."

Charlie shook his head.

"Come on.  You're starting to worry me."  Fingers curled around his bicep.  "Open your eyes."

Charlie didn't want to.  In fact, he wanted to crawl under one of the desks.  He forced himself to open his eyes and meet Don's gaze.  "Don't," he pleaded.

"Don't what?"

Charlie lowered his voice even more.  "Don't sleep with him.  I can't…I know we can't…but…I just…I can't handle it.  Please."  Charlie was mortified that his voice was thick with his unhappiness.

Then Don was dragging him down the hall and into his private office, and he was shutting the door, locking it, and pulling Charlie into his arms and holding him tightly.

Charlie wrapped his arms around his brother's broad shoulders, resting his head against Don's.  "I'm sorry."  He growled out his unhappiness at the thought of Don with another man.  Don and a woman was bad enough.  Don and a man was like acid rain. 

Don got his hands around Charlie's face and made Charlie look at him.  "Charlie.  I'm just taking him to the airport.  That's all.  I promise."

"But you slept with him," Charlie said, miserable.

"Yeah, I did," Don said.  "But it was never serious.  We were, you know, fuck buddies.  Just letting off some steam.  Not like what…" Don stopped speaking and closed his eyes, letting his forehead rest against Charlie's.

Charlie's heart skipped a beat.  "Like what?  Like what we have?  What we could have?"  His body ached for Don.

Don pulled back, although he stayed in the circle of Charlie's arms.  The back of his fingers caressed Charlie's right cheek, his thumb touching Charlie's lower lip.

Charlie couldn't stop his tongue from following Don's finger, wetting his lips, tasting Don there.

Don let out a strangled groan.  "Charlie."

"Tell me, Don.  Just tell me.  I need to hear it.  Please."

Don's face tightened.  "Hear what?  That I love you?  That I want you?  That I want to fuck you?" he said belligerently.  "Is that what you want to hear?"

Charlie looked away.  Yes, he wanted those words, but he wanted them to sound different.  He blinked away an infuriating sting of tears.

"God, I'm such a bastard," Don said, pulling him close again.  Softly, he whispered in Charlie's ear.  "I do love you.  And I do want you.  And if things were different I'd lay you down on my bed and make love to you.  And I don't want Billy.  I don't want anyone.  How could I when all I want is you?"  He pulled back, pushing the hair away from Charlie's face.  "Is that what you needed to hear?"

"Is it true?" Charlie asked wistfully.

Don nodded. 

Charlie wet his lips again nervously.  "Don…"  He hated this.  He hated hearing those words said just the way he wanted them said, but not be able to do anything about it.  His body was tingling with want; he was practically sizzling.

This time he reached out with his fingers to touch Don's lips.  He loved Don's lips.  Loved the bow of his bottom lip, the way they changed their shape to talk, to smile, to frown.  He felt Don's tongue touch his finger, and he gasped, his need deepening, his groin growing heavy with desire.  He felt helpless in its thrall.  "Don," he said again, reduced to saying nothing but his brother's name.

And then Don was kissing him, the fingers of one hand fisted in his curls, the other sweeping down his back, pulling Charlie closer.

Charlie thought he was going to explode, figuratively and literally.  He opened his mouth, rejoiced when Don accepted his invitation and thrust his tongue inside, dancing with his, then pulling back, only for Don to shift his head, slant his lips over Charlie's just right and thrust back in.

He could feel Don's hard cock against his thigh, wished they were anywhere but here.  Somewhere Charlie could touch how he wanted to touch.

But then Don was pulling away.  "Jesus.  Jesus, Charlie.  What you do to me.  Jesus."  Then he was really pulling away, out of Charlie's arms, across the room.  "Jesus.  I am going to hell.  Jesus."  He spun toward Charlie.  "Okay.  Okay.  This was my fault.  I know I should stay away, but you're like some goddamn drug."

All Charlie wanted was to keep touching.  But he wasn't going to win this time.  Not now.  Not in the middle of FBI headquarters, with Don's people a few dozen yards away.  Not when Billy Cooper was expecting a ride to the airport.  Charlie turned away and cleared his throat.  "Just promise me that you won't touch him."  He glanced over his shoulder at Don.  "Promise me."

Don's eyes were almost maniacally bright.  "Charlie…"

"Promise me," Charlie bit out.

"I promise," Don said carefully.

"You better go," Charlie suggested, turning his face away again, moving to the outside window, opening the shades.  He listened for Don's footsteps but heard no movement.  "Will I see you later?  Should I wait up?"

"Yeah," Don finally said, slowly.  "But, Charlie….  Shit, this is so stupid."  His eyes were closed and he was shaking his head.  "I'm so stupid."

"You're not," Charlie said furiously.  "You're not stupid.  This isn't stupid.  Whatever this is between us, it isn't stupid." 

"I don't mean stupid like that," Don said, taking a step toward Charlie but then thinking better of it.  "I mean stupid to think I could play this game and not get caught.  I know better.  I can't say no to you, so where does that leave me?"

"Stop saying no?" Charlie suggested softly.  "It's just us, Don."

Don closed his eyes again.  "I don't know what to do."  He let out a sad laugh.  "I don't know what to do."  He glanced at his watch.  "I gotta go."

"Come home tonight," Charlie entreated.

Don stared at him for a long painful period of time.  Finally he nodded.  "Okay."  Then Don left, shutting the door behind him.

Charlie rested his forehead on the glass, waiting for his body to cool.

Don sat in the driveway knowing Charlie was in the house waiting for him.  It was past time to face facts.  Don might wish it otherwise, but he had no control when it came to Charlie.  The whole situation was like a room full of flypaper.  The more Don struggled, the more stuck he got.

Stuck if he stayed.  Stuck if he left.  Stuck. 

Only the thought that Charlie was probably worrying himself sick about what had happened with Billy, about what Don might do now, got him out of the vehicle.  Before he could get the house key out, the door was opened by Charlie.  He looked a mess, like he'd been biting his lips all night and running his hands through his hair.

"Dad?" Don asked.

"At Shirley's," Charlie answered.

Don entered the house.  "Charlie," he began.

Charlie began to back up, shaking his head.  "I don't want to hear it."

"I don't know what to do," Don said, as boxed in as he'd ever been in his life.  "I'm fucked no matter what I do."

Charlie moved to the kitchen and got out a beer.  Don expected Charlie to hand it to him, but instead Charlie opened it and slugged half of it down.  Don raised his eyebrows.  Charlie was a cheap date, and he'd be listing to the side if he even finished that one beer.  Don decided maybe he should stay sober and leaned against the kitchen table.

"As long as we're already screwed," Charlie began, "no pun intended..."

"Same here," Don interrupted, thinking of his earlier sentence.  Totally fucked and not in a good way.

Charlie looked at him confused.

"The pun thing," Don explained.

"Oh," Charlie said, still looking confused.  He shook it off.  "Anyway," Charlie continued, "as long as we're already screwed, let me ask you something."

Don narrowed his eyes, positive he wouldn't like the question coming his way, but he nodded.  "Shoot."

"If it's just you and me, and we both want it, why can't we have it?"

Yeah.  Don didn't like the question.  "It's wrong, Charlie."

"Why?  And don't say because it's incest or taboo because we're not hurting anybody.  We're two consenting adults, with no risk of six-fingered offspring if we have sex."

"It's still wrong."

"So is same sex marriage according to the state of California, but you supported those gay and lesbian couples that were lined up around the block to get married in San Francisco.  And so is sodomy in a dozen different states, but I'll bet you wouldn't condemn any homosexual couple engaging in that kind of sex."

"This is different," Don said.

"How?"

"Because there's not exactly an Incest Rights Group fighting on our behalf, Charlie.  This is bigger than just what you and I want.  No one will understand."

"So why does anyone have to know?  We have sex here only on nights when Dad is gone or at your apartment, and we don't tell anyone."

"We'll give it away."

"If we were going to give it away, Don, we'd already have done it.  No one's going to go there.  They'll just think we're close.  They already think we're close.  Neither of us dates anyone as it is."

"What if someone asks you?  What if Amita asks you?"

"I say no," Charlie said reasonably.  "You do the same thing."  A brittle smile crossed his face.  "It's not like they're lining up outside."

"Hey," Don said, trying for a little humor, "speak for yourself."

Charlie rolled his eyes.  "We can have this.  You and me, Don.  Brothers can live together.  No one will say anything.  We can have this forever.  You and me."

"Hiding.  Lying.  Not being able to share how I feel about you in public, ever.  That sucks."

"So does being without you."  Charlie took a step toward his brother.  "I can see it in your eyes," he accused Don.  "After Dad's better, you're gone, aren't you?  How is that better than lying?  How is that better than hiding?  What's the point of living a miserable life if we don't at least get each other?  I'd rather be miserable with you than without you."

"You're pushing.  You said you wouldn't push," Don said, growing angry, feeling trapped.

"That was when I thought I had a chance to keep you.  But if you're leaving anyway, what difference does it make?" 

"I'd know it's wrong.  I'd be ashamed of it," Don said as honestly as he could.

"It's a social construct," Charlie argued.  "It was a rule someone made because from a certain viewpoint, it makes sense.  Too much inbreeding weakens the gene pool.  So no females can sleep with their brothers or their father.  First cousins, maybe.  Second cousins, sure.  It was a law set up for the protection of the gene pool and for the protection of children to keep them from being molested.  Neither of those situations pertains to us."

Don shook his head, wishing he had a beer, wishing he had a bottle of whiskey.  It would be so easy to eliminate the distance between him and Charlie, to hold him, kiss him, take him upstairs and into bed.  "Charlie, don't you see?  If I think it's wrong, over time it will ruin whatever this is."

"Or, over time," Charlie countered, "when you see that the roof hasn't caved in and you haven't been hit by lightning, you could maybe realize that this thing between us isn't a bad thing."

"It feels like a sin," Don bit out.  "I don't know if I can get past that."  He hated the look on Charlie's face.  "Not you, Charlie.  It's me.  Wanting you--.  Fuck."

"It's not just about want, Don, at least not for me.  This isn't about sin, it's about love.  I love you, with everything I am.  The wanting is incidental.  If I have to choose between losing you completely, or having you stay and only getting a few hugs now and then, I can live with that.  I can do that."

"You're stronger than me," Don admitted.  "I don't think I can do that.  Not anymore.  I can't be near you and not want to touch you.  And when I do touch you, I want it to be more.  I want all of it."

Charlie let out a noise of sheer frustration.  "So take it.  Here I am."  He put his arms out to the side, widespread.  "Anything you want."

Don closed his eyes, paralyzed.

"You were willing to take a chance with Billy Cooper," Charlie said accusingly, "and he was only a fuck buddy, or that's what you said.  Why can't you take a chance with me?"

Suddenly, Don found he absolutely could not deal with this.  Without cueing Charlie that he was switching subjects, he asked, "Is Shirley taking Dad to the hospital tomorrow?"

Charlie looked completely confused.  "What?"

"Tomorrow," Don said impatiently, "Dad has to be at the hospital at ten."

"Why?" Charlie stammered out.

"Maybe if you paid more attention, you'd know," Don said meanly, knowing he was being unkind but too frustrated to stop.  "We talked about this two nights ago.  His insurance company won't pay for some of the tests he needs unless he's an inpatient, so he's going in for a couple of days."

Charlie managed to look hurt, angry, scared, and confused all at the same time.

Don wanted to smack him as much as he wanted to kiss him.  He glanced at his watch; too late to call Shirley's to find out.  "Call me if he needs a ride," he said to Charlie.

Charlie nodded slowly.

"Do you want me to pick you up for our tests?"

"Um, yeah," Charlie said, not sounding sure at all.

"At school or here?"

"School."

"I'll come get you at 12:30," Don said.  "Be ready."  He felt in his pockets for his keys, pulled them out.

"Wait," Charlie said.  "Where are you going?  What's going on?"  He took a few steps toward Don, and Don backed away from him.  Charlie stopped abruptly, his eyes now shadowed with hurt and confusion.

"I can't deal with this, Charlie.  Not now.  All I can do is be brothers.  The rest of it…" Don made a sharp wiping motion with both hands, "it's too much."

"Don't go.  We can stay in separate rooms, but don't go," Charlie pleaded.  "Don't leave me alone."

Don hung his head, trying to find a calm place inside.  All he wanted to do was run.  Run back to his apartment, run back to the past when he still had some control over his life.

"Please," Charlie entreated.  "I'm sorry.  Don, I'm sorry."

But as much as Don wanted to run, he couldn’t leave when Charlie was begging him to stay.  "Fine," Don bit out.  "But I'm going to bed."

"Okay," Charlie said, keeping his distance.  "Me, too.  It's been a long day.  A long couple of weeks." 

Don thought Charlie looked bruised, like someone had been beating on him.  It all showed in his eyes, and Don knew he was to blame.  Unable to look at him for another second, Don turned and left the kitchen.  When he got upstairs, he shut his bedroom door behind him and sat on the bed with his head in his hands.

A long time later, Don heard Charlie come slowly up the stairs.  He hesitated outside Don's door, but then continued to his own room.  After a while, he entered the bathroom and puttered around for a while, eventually going back to his own room.

Even though they were only feet apart, Don felt as far away from Charlie as he'd ever been.  He just couldn't find a way out.  If he left, both he and Charlie would be miserable; Charlie had been completely right about that.  But if he stayed, either they'd have to put some emotional distance between them which would totally suck, or Don would end up in bed with Charlie.  And no matter how reasonable and alluring Charlie's rationalizations were, Don couldn't get past the belief that it was wrong.

He heard Charlie getting settled, imagined him reading one of his dozen journals he always had scattered about his bedroom.  Don had been tripping over journals since Charlie was about eight.

Don squeezed his eyes shut thinking of the expression on Charlie's face.  The last thing Don wanted to do was cause his brother pain, but he'd hit the jackpot tonight, ripping Charlie's heart apart with terrifying ease.  Fuck.  If he wasn't careful, Charlie would be out in the garage again and everything would come crashing down.  The truth was that Charlie needed Don as much as Don needed him.  And even if Don decided he had to leave, he couldn't go now, not with Dad sick.

He heard Charlie switching positions.

Don found himself on his feet, opening his bedroom door, moving the few yards to Charlie's door, knocking.  "Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course," Charlie said cautiously.

Don opened the door, found just the picture he'd imagined, Charlie in bed, the bed littered with at least a dozen journals.  He couldn't help but grin.  "A little light bedtime reading?"  Don suspected he couldn't make his way through a paragraph of any of those articles without falling asleep.

Charlie smiled briefly and started gathering them up, placing them in a pile on his nightstand.  "What's, um, what's going on?"  He looked, understandably, apprehensive.

Don crossed the room, sat on Charlie's bed.  "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I can be such an asshole."

"Just tell me you won't leave," Charlie said in response.

"Tonight?"

"Ever," Charlie said.  "Tell me that we'll work it out.  We'll talk it through, find a way to be near each other that's comfortable for you.  I just can't not have you around.  I can't.  You're too important to me.  I'll do whatever you want."

Charlie's begging made Don feel even worse.   

"Just tell me we'll try," Charlie insisted.

Don sighed.  "All right.  We'll try.  I'll try.  No running away.  For either of us."

Charlie almost sagged in relief.  "Good.  Okay.  Good."  He blew out a breath.  "Okay."  He blew out another breath. 

Ridiculously, as he still had no idea what they were going to do, Don felt a hundred times better.  He was just as confused, but when it got right down to it, he felt better sharing his confusion with Charlie.  Don had been on his own for a long time.  Most of his life, actually.  He didn't want to live that way again.

For the first time since this whole thing began, Don felt in control.  Calm, even.  He moved on the bed until he was against the headboard next to Charlie.  "Been a long time since I had a sleepover," he said with a grin.  "Know any good ghost stories?"

Charlie gave him a delighted grin, shoving against him with his shoulder.  "You were always the one with the stories.  You scared me half to death on a regular basis."

"I know," Don said with a laugh.  "Mom was always yelling at me when you'd end up spending the night with them because you were too scared to sleep alone."  He grinned.  "See?  I told you I was a jerk of an older brother."

Charlie shook his head, stars back in his eyes.  "I think I'll keep you around."

Don liked that look in Charlie's eyes much better than the hurt and angry one.  He got up, shrugged out of his jacket and kicked off his shoes.  "Hit the light," he said.  "And skootch over."

Charlie's eyes went wide, but did as instructed.

"Don't get excited," Don teased.  "This is a brotherly thing going on here.  No groping, no sleepy kisses in the morning, just sleeping.  Okay?  Can you handle that?"

Charlie shot him a superior look.  "Can you handle that?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can handle it."  Don hoped he could handle it.  He felt like he could.  He'd be all right as long as Charlie didn't start anything.  Hopefully.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you got ready for bed?"

Don checked out Charlie's sleep attire, boxer shorts and a t-shirt.  "Nah, I like to sleep naked," he offered.  He winced.  "I probably shouldn't have said that."

"No," Charlie agreed, swallowing, "you really shouldn't have."  He tugged on Don's jeans.  "At least lose these."

Don figured if things went to hell in a hand basket, a pair of jeans wasn't going to be much of a deterrent, so he got up, shucked off his jeans, and stripped off his shirt while he was at it.  It left him in boxer briefs and a t-shirt, just like Charlie. 

As Don slid into bed, Charlie leaned over and shut off the light.  Then he settled down, letting out one of his happy sighs.  "Don?"

"Yeah?" Don said, getting settled as well, snitching one of Charlie's pillows.

"I'm really glad you're here."

"Me, too," Don said, meaning it.  At the end of the day it was relatively simple.  He loved Charlie and didn't want to hurt him.  As long as Don kept that in front of him, things would be okay.  Relaxed for the first time all day, sleep crept up on him quickly.  He muttered a soft "Good night," heard Charlie mutter it back, and then Don was out.

When Charlie woke up the next morning, Don was gone, but the impressions of his head and body were still apparent on the pillow and mattress.  Charlie smiled, rolled over to that side of the bed and fell asleep again.

Charlie was waiting for him when Don swung by to pick him up.  Charlie smiled nervously at him as if he wasn't sure what mood Don was going to be in.

Don couldn't blame him for being nervous.  Don's emotions had been all over the map the last few days, weeks.  "Hey," he said, smiling at Charlie.

Charlie smiled back, sliding into the car.  "Hey," he said, relieved that Don seemed happy to see him.

"I slept good last night," Don offered.

"Yeah," Charlie said with a lopsided smile.  "Me, too."  He buckled up his seatbelt.  "We going to stop by and see Dad?"

"After," Don answered.  "We'll be late for our appointments if we go now."

"Okay."  Charlie sat back.

"Do you need to be back at school?"

Charlie shook his head.  "No, I'm done for the day.  You?"

"I took the afternoon off."  Don shrugged.  "Not that it'll keep someone from calling if they need me."  Don felt like he was playing hooky.  It would be a lot more fun if he wasn't going to be stuck by needles.

Two hours later they dropped by their dad's room.

"Hello there," Alan said to them as they walked in.

"They treating you right?" Don asked, sitting on the foot of the bed.  "Anyone you need me to rough up?"

Alan rolled his eyes.  "Yes, I have the list right here."

Don grinned.  "Seriously?  Everything going okay?"

"Sure, sure," Alan said.  "It's not like I'm here because I need to be."  He gestured at Don's arm.  "So, you both had blood drawn?"

"Yeah," Charlie said.  "And got chest x-rays and EKGs." 

Don touched the cotton ball under the tape in the crook of his elbow.  "They said we'll know the results in about four days."

Alan nodded.  "Listen.  About that."  He cleared his throat.  "Donny."  He scrunched his face up, then scrubbed at it with his hands. 

"What is it?" Don asked, curious.

Alan sighed.  "Look.  I know I should have told you.  We should have told you.  But, as time passed, and then she got pregnant and all of a sudden there was Charlie, and you two seemed so happy…" Alan shrugged.  "We just never did."

Don furrowed his brow, shooting a look at Charlie, asking him silently if he had any idea what Dad was talking about.  Charlie shook his head no, looking just as confused.

"Dad, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying…" Alan paused.  "It's just that when the HLA typing comes back, you're going to find out anyway."

"Find out what?"  Don was completely lost.

"You're adopted," Alan said rapidly.

Don's jaw dropped open.  "What?"

"You're adopted.  We adopted you.  Only your grandmother knew, God rest her soul, on your mother's side.  Everyone thought you were ours.  I mean you were ours, but everyone assumed you were our real son.  I mean you are our real son, but…"

"I get it," Don said, holding up a hand to stop his father's babbling.  He thought for a moment, trying to let the astonishing news sink in.  This was big.  It was iceberg sinking the Titanic big.  "Wait, wait," Don said, stunned.  "You mean," he had to stop to draw a breath, his stomach filled with manic butterflies.  "You mean Charlie's not my brother?"  He shot an incredulous look at his brother.  At his not-brother.

"Well, he's your brother," Alan said.  "He's just not actually related to you, I mean from a lab test perspective."

Don wasn't sure what to do.  What to think.  He was adopted.  Charlie wasn't actually his brother.  Alan wasn't actually his father.  Lab-test wise.  "I'm in love with Charlie," he suddenly blurted out.

His dad's eyes grew comically wide.  "What?"

Don gestured toward Charlie.  "I'm in love with him."

Charlie started smiling, his eyes bright. 

Don smiled back at him.  "I'm not your brother."

"You're not my brother," Charlie said back, his voice filled with wonder.

"I thought…" Don shook his head, turning back to his father.  "I thought I was going to hell."

Alan stared at the two of them, back and forth, as if he was following a ping-pong game.  "Are you," he stopped.  "What?"  He scowled.  "You can't…"  He stopped again.  "He's your brother," he finally said.

"No, he's not," Don said, knowing there was a stupid grin on his face.  "He's not my brother.  He's a man I grew up with.  Fell in love with.  Thought I was going to hell over."

The scowl deepened.  "So," Alan began, pulling himself up in bed, "are you trying to tell me that the two of you…"  His face squinted up in dismay.  "That you…"

"No, Dad," Charlie said.  "We didn't.  Not really.  We wanted to, but we didn't.  Mostly."

Don was shaking his head in agreement.  "We didn't."  Jesus, Don thought.  Such a simple statement that didn't begin to do justice to the misery of want he'd been drowning in.

"Well, there was that kiss," Charlie admitted honestly.  "And, you know, that one time.  Although that didn't really count because we never, and I, well, you know."

Don glared at him.

Charlie grinned back, face mischievous, joyful, holding up three fingers.  "Three kisses, actually."

"The first one doesn't count," Don said with a frown. "I was asleep for that one."  A blatant lie.  And Charlie knew it.

"You two have kissed?" Alan yelled, then nervously looked around, making sure no one had heard him.  "You're brothers.  You can't do that sort of stuff."

"We're not brothers," Don reminded him.  "Not related."  Not fucking related.  He wasn't going to hell. 

Alan put a hand over his chest.  "I'm already in kidney failure.  Are you trying to give me a heart attack, too?"  He leaned toward them.  "I didn't even know you were gay, and now you're telling me you've been, I mean, the two of you…"  Alan leaned back.  "Oy.  Your mother must be spinning in her grave."

Don considered his dad.  He did look sort of pale.  "Sorry.  I didn't mean to blurt it out like that.  We can stop talking about it."

Alan was looking more and more upset.  "Donny, I feel like I don't even know you."

Don let out a frustrated sound.  "Get in line."

"Until today, as far as you knew, he was your brother in every way that counted," Alan said angrily.

"I know," Don said passionately.  "Trust me, I know.  I've been going crazy.  I knew it was wrong."

"Wait a minute," Charlie protested.

Both Don and their father turned to look at him.

Charlie swallowed.  "It was my fault.  I'm the one who wanted it.  Me.  I kissed him."

Alan's eyebrows flew up. "What?  What?  Charlie?  Is this true?"

Charlie winced but nodded.  "It was all me.  I kept pushing." 

Don rolled his eyes.  "Oh, thank you very much.  I think I was there for most of it, you know.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that last kiss was pretty much mine."

"I was upset," Charlie defended him.

Charlie wasn't his brother.  Don couldn't believe it.  He could take Charlie home and make love to him.  Yeah, there was still a list a mile long of the stuff they'd have to work through, but Charlie wasn't his brother.

"I don't care whose fault it was," Alan said, his voice pushing his way into Don's thoughts.  "Don, you're the older brother.  It was your responsibility to…to…I don't even know what to call this."

"I'm an adult, Dad," Charlie said with a frown, little lines forming at his forehead.

Don wanted to kiss them away.  He could kiss them away.  Not right now, of course, or he really would give his father a heart attack, but when they got home he could.

"Barely," Alan snapped.  "And your being an adult comes and goes."

Charlie looked insulted and Don didn't blame him.  "Dad," Don bit out, "we never meant for any of this to happen, but it did."

"What about Kim, and Terry, and…and Amita?  What were they?  I don't understand."  Alan's voice was plaintive.

Don got that it was a lot for his dad to take in.  It had been a crazy month.  First his illness and the news that he'd either need a transplant or have to go on dialysis.  Then he finds out he has two gay sons who are in love with each other and, sooner or later, it was going to sink in that that meant no grandchildren.  Don was sorry he'd said anything.  It probably would have been a better idea to do this when his dad was healing and at home, where he'd have more freedom to do what he needed to do to cope.

Charlie sat on the side of the bed, near Alan's hip.  "Dad, I know you think this is bad, but I've always loved Don.  For as long as I can remember.  And no," he said when Alan started to frown, "he never did anything to encourage it.  He didn't even know until a few months ago.  He had no idea."

"It's actually kind of your fault, Dad," Don said with a sudden grin.

"What?" Alan sputtered.  "How is any of this my fault?"

"You kept telling me how much I meant to Charlie.  How much he looked up to me.  How important I was to him."  Don ran the fingers of his left hand through his hair.  "I just started to look, to pay more attention, and there it was."

"Oy," Alan said. 

"It threw me," Don said.  "I mean, I hadn't ever, I mean he is, or was my brother, you know?"

"Yes, I know," Alan said sarcastically.

"I figured it would blow over," Don continued.  "I thought he'd focus on Amita and everything would get normal again."

Alan glanced at Charlie, so Don did, too.  Charlie was staring at him the way he often did, a soft smile on his face, those wonderful stars in his eyes.  Don loved that look.  Alan did a double-take.  "You've always looked at him that way," he said with nervous awe, watching Charlie carefully.  "Your whole life."

"I know," Charlie said.  "I've loved him my whole life.  And I know maybe that was wrong, but I couldn't help it."

Alan blinked.  Then he turned to Don.  "What's your excuse?  I never saw you look that way at Charlie."

"I don't have one," Don said honestly.  "I knew it was wrong."

"And he kept saying no," Charlie said, one hand on his father's arm.  "He kept saying we had to stop.  That I needed to find someone else.  He kept threatening to leave again."  Charlie's voice tightened and he swallowed.

Don waved a helpless hand through the air.  "I don't know.  I don't know what happened.  It just got out of control, and as bad as I felt about the whole thing, I couldn't leave."

"Larry says we're soul-mates," Charlie explained, with a dreamy look at Don that made Don grin as much as it made him want to roll his eyes.   "He says we've been through countless lives together," Charlie added, "always drawn to one another, lifetime after lifetime."

"Larry knows about this?" Alan complained.

Charlie shrugged.  "He guessed."

Alan let out a deep sigh. 

"Dad, I'm really sorry to lay this on you when you're sick," Don said apologetically.  "But when you sprang that news on me, it just came out."  Charlie wasn't his brother.  He caught Charlie's eyes and saw the same train of thought reflected back at him.

Alan's gaze went from Charlie to Don and back again.  "So what happens now?"

"Charlie and I need to go home and talk, and figure out what does happen next."  He turned a reassuring gaze on his dad.  "We'll work it out together, all of us.  How we'll handle this, what we'll tell people."

"There's no way I can talk you two out of this?" Alan said sadly.

Don shook his head.  "No.  No.  I'm sorry."  Charlie was shaking his head emphatically.  Hell no.  Don grinned, knowing just how he felt. 

Alan sighed again.  "Call Rabbi Kushner for me, would you?  Tell him I need to talk to him."

Don was more than happy to do that.  Rabbi Kushner was a good man, a good friend to Alan, and he also happened to have a lesbian daughter.  "I'll call him as soon as I leave," Don told his dad.  "They don't allow cell phones on the floor."

Alan nodded.  "I love you boys, don't ever think that I don't, but I'd be less than honest if I didn't say that I'm deeply disturbed by all of this."

Don nodded seriously.  "You're entitled.  I'm disturbed by it, or at least I was."  The smile crept back on his face as he looked at Charlie.

Charlie smiled back.

Alan rolled his eyes.  "Shoo.  Go away."  He waved his hands at them, encouraging them to leave.

"We'll be back tonight," Don said.  "We'll bring you something to eat."

That got another sigh.  "Don't bother.  My diet's so restricted I'd just as soon eat hospital food so I don't have any false expectations that anything will taste good.  Besides, Shirley's bringing me soup."

Charlie pouted on his father's behalf, and then laid his hand over his own left side.  "See this kidney?  It's as good as yours.  Then you can eat anything you want."

Alan waved them out again, but this time with a small grin.  Don headed for the door, Charlie right behind him.

Don called Rabbi Kushner from the lobby, and then he and Charlie headed for the parking lot. 

Charlie did his best not to stare at Don and tried hard not to smile.  But every time he stopped paying attention, he could feel this enormous grin on his face.  And every time he looked at Don, Don was smiling, too.

Charlie also tried to stay a respectable distance from Don, because if he didn't, if he got too close, there was no telling what might happen.  The attraction that had been pulling on them before felt like atomic fusion now.

Silently, they walked to the parking lot, Don unbeeping his car, both of them sliding in, slamming doors shut.  They sat there.  Again, not looking at each other.  "Is this really happening?" Don asked.

"I sure hope so," Charlie answered, hoping Don was talking about the same thing he was.

"I mean last night, yesterday, the last few weeks, they've been, they've been hard, you know?"

"Yeah," Charlie said.  "I know."

"And last night I just couldn't figure out a way to make this happen in a way that we could both live with."

"I know."  Yesterday had had more highs and lows in it than any day Charlie could remember.

Don finally turned to look at him.  "And now we can do this?  Just like that?  Now I can have you?"

The butterflies in Charlie's stomach went wild.  Just the thought of Don having him, however Don meant it, made Charlie's toes curl in his sneakers.  "I'm maybe the wrong person to ask, because you could have had me last night.  You could have had me a long time ago."

Don's head dropped to the steering wheel.  "It's just too much, too fast."

"Do you, do you need to think about it more?" Charlie asked with trepidation.  He'd been so sure they were finally on the same page.

Don lifted his head and shot Charlie a look.  "Are you nuts?"

Charlie sagged back into the seat.  "Thank God."  He grinned at Don and Don grinned back.

Blowing out a quick breath, Don put the key in the ignition and started up the car.  "Where do you want to go?" Don asked.

"Home.  The house.  It's closer."

Don nodded, carefully checking mirrors, then put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space.

Charlie was impressed at how controlled Don was behaving.  Charlie felt like he was going to shake apart with joy and anticipation and lust and love and every other good thing.  He knew if he lifted his hands, they'd be shaking like a leaf.

Don put the car in drive and headed for the exit.  Charlie leaned back against the door and stared at his brother.  His ex-brother.  His soon to be lover.  Charlie wrapped his arms around himself in a hug, overwhelmed with a sense of giddiness.

Don smiled even more, as if he knew Charlie was staring at him.  His tongue came out and wet his lips.

Charlie wanted that tongue on his body more than he'd ever wanted anything.  "Drive faster."

Letting out a strangled laugh, Don sped up.

Charlie's eyes slowly made their way up Don's body.  His body was so solid.  Like a rock.  Solid thighs encased in jeans that had been making Charlie crazy for so long he couldn't believe he was about to get to take them off.  Solid torso.  No fat.  Solid muscle.  Solid arms, solid neck.  The best face ever.  Best smile.  Beautiful brown eyes.  Hair Charlie couldn't wait to get his hands in.  He glanced at his watch.

"You late for something?" Don teased.

"Just to get you naked," Charlie said daringly.

Don's foot slipped and they sped up before Don could hit the break.  "Do not--" he held up a hand toward Charlie as if warding him off, "do not say that sort of stuff when I'm driving."  He was grinning madly.

The grin made Charlie reckless, and he put his hand on Don's thigh.  He could feel the muscle bunch beneath his fingers.

Don grunted and flipped his blinker on, turning down a side street, pulling off to the side.  Grabbing Charlie's hand off his thigh he turned to him.  "Do you want our first time to be in the car?  Because you touch me again and that's what'll happen.  Right here."  His fingers laced with Charlie's and he closed his eyes.  "Jesus, Charlie.  You make me crazy."

Charlie loved how he made Don crazy, felt a fierce satisfaction that Don wanted him this much.  Charlie squeezed Don's hand, feeling the months of sexual frustration all centered right there, between their palms.  He wondered if anyone had ever gotten off just from holding hands before.  "Just drive."

"I need my hand back."

Charlie shook his head.  "No."  He couldn't let go now, not when he was finally allowed to touch.  Don stared at him for a minute; with every passing second his body seemed to lean a little more toward Charlie.  Charlie grinned.  "Do you want our first time to be in the car?" he teased, saying Don's words back to him.  "Because if you keep looking at me like that, it will be."

"Smart ass," Don complained.  Charlie's hand under his, Don shifted to drive and headed back down the street, one hand on the steering wheel, one hand still holding Charlie's.  Don put their hands back on his thigh.

Don's solid thigh.  Charlie ached, he was so hard.  He hoped Don didn't mind that he was only going to last about sixteen seconds.

There was no more talking, and Don didn't look at him again.  The trip seemed endless, anticipation building painfully.  It was like the house had been moved to another state while they'd been at the hospital. 

Finally, finally, they pulled into the driveway.  Don pressed the garage opener and drove the car inside.  He hit the button again closing the garage door behind them.

Don turned toward Charlie, his eyes dark with desire.  "So we really did just find out that I'm not your brother?  That we could do this?"

Charlie nodded.

"It's just," Don started, then stopped.  "It's just hard to believe."

"I know," Charlie said.

Don stared at Charlie, unlaced their fingers and put his hand on Charlie's thigh.

Like some hooker, Charlie spread his legs, hoping his whole body looked like an invitation.

"Oh, man," Don said with a low laugh, "oh, Charlie, look at you.  You're just gonna give it up to me, aren't you?  You're gonna let me have everything, aren't you?"  His hand inched a little higher.

Charlie nodded.  "Yes.  Anything.  Please."  He could hardly breathe.

Don reached across him and opened his door.  "Get out of the car."

Visions of Don with a gun and a thigh holster giving orders flashed through Charlie's mind.  He wasn't sure he could walk.  For a moment, he thought he might come just from this mental imagery alone.  But then Don was pulling Charlie's door open wide and tugging Charlie up and into his arms.  Don shifted to the side and kicked the car door shut with his foot.

And then Don was kissing him, pushing him back against the car, his entire body pressed against Charlie's.  Charlie had thought he'd been kissed by his brother--his not-brother--before, but this was nothing like those other times.  Don had been holding back.  Seriously holding back.

Because, right now, Charlie was being kissed to within an inch of his life, and he was melting into a sizzling puddle.  Don was eating him alive, his hands cupping Charlie's face, holding him captive as Don explored every inch of Charlie's mouth and gums and tongue, sucking on his lips, and kissing his jaw and chin and neck, Don's beard scruff burning Charlie's skin in the most wonderful way.

And yes, it was a little weird to be so overpowered in a kiss, to be the one being held, but oh my God, it was Don, and this was Don kissing him, and overpowering him, and holding him, and kissing him, and this time they didn't have to stop, or feel bad, or talk about how it could never happen again.

And that was Don rubbing against him, his hard cock burning against Charlie's thigh, Don's thigh rubbing against Charlie, and all Charlie could do was gasp and try to pull some air into his lungs between the kisses and the sensation of Don's sensual onslaught.

But then Don was gentling the kiss, and he was nibbling on Charlie's lips, and soothing them with his tongue, and he was pulling away from Charlie's body.  "Wait," Charlie protested, trying to pull Don back.  "Don't stop."

Don rested his forehead against Charlie's and let out a laugh.  "I don't want our first time to be in the garage either.  I just…God, Charlie, you have no idea what you do to me."  He captured Charlie's lips in another kiss.  "I just want you so much," Don said as he pressed kisses up one side of Charlie's face and down the other.

This was, Charlie decided, what it felt like to be ravished.  Don was ravishing him.  He tilted his head to the side, hoping the kisses would continue down his neck.  But then Don was yanking him toward the house, and Charlie was being dragged inside.

Like two kids they raced upstairs, laughing, to Charlie's room.  Once they were inside, Charlie found himself pushed up against the wall as Don started in on him again.  Charlie wasn't sure he was going to survive if he already felt so wonderfully overwhelmed from just the kissing.  How was he supposed to handle Don naked?  Charlie groaned into Don's mouth.

Don pulled back and stared at him, smiling, his eyes running all over Charlie's face, like Charlie was the best thing he'd ever seen.

Charlie smiled back.  "You sure are smiling a lot," he said, lifting a hand to run fingers over the crinkles next to Don's eyes, over his lips.

Don kissed his fingers.  "Yeah.  I can't seem to stop.  I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to do this.  To touch you like this."  He pulled Charlie in close.  "Jesus, I hated what I was doing to you."

"I started it, Don.  If it was anyone's fault, it was mine."

"Maybe," Don said.  "But once the feelings were there, they were strong."  He ran his hands down Charlie's arms.  "It still feels weird to think I can touch you."

"Don," Charlie said hesitantly.  "If it feels too weird, we can wait.  I don't want you regretting any of this.  I don't think I could handle that."

Don stared at Charlie for a long time.  "I won't regret it.  I might freak out a little now and then because things still won't be easy, but I won't regret it, and I won't walk away.  I can't imagine walking away."  A flash of regret crossed Don's face.  "I can't believe I was thinking about it last night."  He touched his forehead to Charlie's.  "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I went so nuts on you."

"I understood," Charlie said.  "It hurt, but I understood.  I knew I was asking for too much, but…"  He raised a hand and touched Don's lips again.  "But I wanted it, wanted you, so badly." 

Charlie found himself being pushed against the wall again, Don's tongue thrusting inside his mouth, Don's thigh rubbing against Charlie's groin.  "You know," Don said, as he pressed quick little kisses all over Charlie's face, kisses that were over before they'd even begun, leaving Charlie thirsty for more, "feel free to push me around, too.  If you want to."

Charlie hadn't even thought of that.  He'd been in seventh heaven being pushed around by Don, shoved against cars and walls and Don's solid body, being ravished--his new favorite word--that his plan had been to just let Don keep doing it.

But, now, Charlie found he liked the idea.  "Yeah?" he asked.

Don nodded, a wicked grin on his face.

"Okay."  Charlie shoved Don in the direction of the bed.

"Oh," Don said with a laugh.  "You got someplace you want me?"

Charlie shoved him again.  It was great to be with someone so solid.  Don stood there challenging him with sparkling eyes.  Laughing, Charlie shoved him one last time, tumbling him down to the bed, falling on top of him.  Don's arms and legs wrapped around him, and Charlie was surrounded by everything he'd wanted for so long.  He couldn't handle it for a minute, and he lay his head down on Don's shoulder and just let Don hold him.

"You all right, buddy?" Don asked, hands stroking down Charlie's spine.  He tried to press back into the mattress so he could see Charlie better.  Touching Charlie's face, he said, "Look at me."

Charlie lifted his head and stared down at Don.

"You all right?" Don asked, all concerned.

Charlie swallowed against the lump in his throat.  "I just really love you.  I'm just really happy."

The look of love on Don's face made Charlie's heart hurt in a really good way.  "Me, too," Don agreed with a soft smile.  "I can't believe--" he cut off, shaking his head. 

"That we can have this?" Charlie asked, finishing his sentence.

"Yeah."  Don stared at him for another second, then, with a grin, he flipped them over until he was on top of Charlie.

Charlie closed his eyes and moaned.  Oh, this felt good.  So damn good.  He thought of Don touching his thigh in the car, thought of Don teasing Charlie about giving it all up.  "Um, Don?"

"Yeah?" Don was busy nibbling on Charlie's neck, his fingers unbuttoning Charlie's shirt.

"I just, um, I meant what I said, about giving you anything you want, but I feel it's only, um, you know, I haven't actually, you know I haven't actually done this.  Before.  With a guy."  Charlie winced at himself.  "I mean, other than what we did in the backyard."

Don got Charlie's shirt open and licked one of his nipples.  "Yeah, I kind of knew that."  When Charlie arched up into his mouth, Don did it again.  "I'm kind of glad."

"Why?" Charlie asked, surprised he could still talk.  Don bit his nipple and the sensation shot down his body right to his cock.  He thrust against Don's body.

"Because," Don said, moving down Charlie's body, biting his stomach, his hands working on the closure to Charlie's jeans, "you belong to me."  Then he was back up and gazing down at Charlie.  "And yeah, before you ask, I belong to you, too, and I'm sorry you're not my first, because you would have been worth waiting for."

Charlie was of mixed minds.  "I hate that you slept with other guys.  I hate it."

"I know."

"But," Charlie conceded with a wry grin, "I guess it's a good thing one of us knows what he's doing."  Then, fiercely, he added, "but no one else, ever."

"No one else, Charlie," Don assured him.  "And I'm thinking what you lack in experience you more than make up for in natural talent.  You've got magic hands.  Magic fingers.  You had me so hot behind the house that day, I couldn't see straight." 

Delighted at Don's words, Charlie laughed out loud.  "Natural talent?" he echoed, teasing.

"Absolutely," Don said with real conviction, and then he was in charge again, stripping their clothes off, getting Charlie on top, reaching between them to grab their cocks and stroking them both.

Charlie barely knew what to concentrate on first.  The sensation in his cock could have been all-consuming, but Don was naked now, finally, and his cock was pressed against Charlie's, and their naked skin was touching from forehead to toes, and Don was panting and gasping, and whispering Charlie's name over and over again, and it was all too much.

With a cry, Charlie came, jerking in Don's hand, the warm liquid hitting Don's stomach.  And then Don was kissing him, hard, and he was coming, too.  Charlie pulled back so he could watch, except he didn't know what to watch: Don's face, Don's cock, Don's body writhing under his.

Then, Don sagged back on the bed, a goofy smile on his face, one hand coming up to cup Charlie's cheek, then brush into his hair.  Don pulled him down and Charlie came willingly, briefly kissing Don, then shifting a little to the side so he could rest his head on the pillow as well.  "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," Don said with the same silly smile on his face.  "I thought that might take the edge off."

Charlie nodded, reveling in being able to love Don, allowing everything he felt to show on his face.  "I love you."

"Me, too," Don said in a slow drawl as he closed his eyes.

Charlie watched him slip into sleep.  Ordinarily, Charlie would have slipped off to sleep as well, but he wanted to watch Don.  After a few minutes, Charlie began to feel sticky, so he gently extricated himself and headed for the bathroom, rinsed himself off, and returned to the bedroom with a wet washcloth.  He cleaned Don off eliciting a happy hum from his brother.  Charlie frowned.

"What are you frowning about?" Don asked him, yawning.

"I--" Charlie stopped, stymied as to how to say this.  "I want this," he said, gesturing at the two of them, "more than anything.  But, I also loved having you as my brother."

"I'm still your brother," Don said.  Then he frowned.  "Yeah, I see what you mean."

"What do I call you?  How do I explain you?"

"This is part of that stuff I said wouldn't be easy, and I'd rather worry about it later, okay?"

Charlie frowned, but nodded.

"Really, I promise.  We'll figure out a way to make it work."  Don grinned.  "Because look what we've got."  Don grabbed Charlie and flipped him over onto his back, lying on top of him.  "Let's just have this for ourselves right now before we borrow any more trouble, all right?"

Charlie smiled.  "All right."  He spread his legs, letting Don get settled between them.

"Good.  Now I have some questions for you so I know what I'm dealing with here," Don said, holding part of his weight off of Charlie with his elbows.

"Shoot."

"No men, right?"

"No men."

"Ever have anal sex with a woman?"

Charlie shook his head.

"Ever let a woman play with your ass?"

Charlie shook his head, starting to feel worrisomely inexperienced. 

"Nothing?  Not even a finger?"

Charlie shook his head.

"Tongue?"

Charlie's eyes opened wide, and he shook his head again.

Don grinned again.  "A real virgin ass.  You have no idea what pleasures await you.  And after I do it all to you, then you can do it all to me."  His eyebrows danced at the thought.

"You--?" Charlie stopped, wincing, not wanting to come across as even more naïve than he already was.

"Me, what?"

Charlie bit his lip, shaking his head a little, embarrassed.

"What?  You thought I'd be the only one doing the fucking around here?" Don asked, his voice filled with humor.

Charlie shrugged.

"Why?" Don asked, sincerely curious.

"Handcuffs and a big gun?" Charlie suggested.

Don let out a bark of laughter.  Then he let his weight fall on Charlie.  "That turn you on?  Me and my big gun?"

It turned Charlie on almost past the telling of it.  "Thigh holster," he squeaked out, feeling his cock harden against Don's.

Don laughed again.  "Yeah?  You want me to come in here sometime all dressed up in my FBI gear, with my thigh holsters and my handcuffs and my big gun?  Maybe push you against the wall, tell you to spread 'em?  Maybe do a strip search?"

Heart hammering, cock hard as diamonds, Charlie nodded.  "Um, yes?"

"Ooh, kinky depths, here, Charlie.  I see good times ahead." 

Charlie was almost panting at the thought.  The idea of being able to touch Don when he was all dressed up in his FBI gear and then undress him was tantalizing.  He'd have to figure out a way to keep Don's thigh holster on.  His brain got sucked into the mechanics. 

"What are you thinking?" Don asked, pulling him back.

Charlie could feel his face redden.  "Thigh holster."

Don laughed.  "Want to hear one of my fantasies about you?"

"Yes," Charlie breathed.

"You're at school, alone in your office, working at the chalkboard."  Don shifted to the side again.  "You with me so far?"

Charlie nodded emphatically.

"I come in and lock the door behind me, but you don't hear me because you're so caught up in what you're doing.  You have chalk on your hands and on your nose."  Don leaned in and kissed the tip of Charlie's nose.  "And it's all over your t-shirt."

Charlie didn't think that sounded particularly sexy, but after a quick look to see that Don was as hard as he was, he let it go.  "Then what?"

"I come up behind you, and I can see that you're a million miles away in la-la math land."

"La-la math land?" Charlie asked in an offended tone.

"Shh," Don said.  "Just listen.  This is my fantasy."

Charlie shut up.

"Somehow you know it's me, so you don't jump at all when I touch you, and your fingers never stop writing on the board."  Don ran his hand down Charlie's thigh.

Once again, Charlie spread his legs.  He'd had no idea he was such a slut.  The idea of it made him grin.  "Keep going," he said when it looked like Don was going to ask him what he was smiling about.

"I run my hand down your thigh just like this, and then I stand directly behind you, so I can feel your ass, and my hard cock fits just perfect between your cheeks.  You hesitate for a second, but then you keep writing."

Charlie loved the idea that his work turned Don on.  "Then what?" he asked.

My hands sneak around you and I touch you over the fabric of your pants.  You're hard for me."  Don matched words to the fantasy and wrapped his fingers around Charlie.

Charlie thrust into his hand.  "Then what?" he asked again, his voice almost embarrassingly husky.

"I undo your pants, your button, your zipper, and I slip my hand inside, holding you, feeling the heat of you, the way you grow even harder with my touch.  I stand there, watching you rub your face with your hand as if there's something there, in the back of your mind, but you can't think of it.  Your hand leaves another trace of chalk behind, and you go back to your equation."

Leaning in, Charlie kissed Don, astonished all over again that Don was actually here in his bed, naked, and telling Charlie one of his fantasies.  A fantasy about Charlie.

"I start to stroke you," Don said, between kisses, stroking Charlie at the same time.  "Slow, from root to crown, while my other hand slips under your shirt to play with your nipples."  Don tried to follow suit but their arrangement on the bed didn't really work.  Don suddenly stood up, reaching down and grabbing Charlie's hand, pulling him up. 

He turned Charlie around until Charlie's back was to Don's chest.  Then, Don started stroking him again with his right hand, while his left hand moved up to flick over Charlie's nipples.  "Just like this."

Charlie rested back against Don, agreeing silently to himself that Don's cock did fit perfectly between his ass cheeks.  "Then what?"

"I see you falter for a moment, staring at the board as if you made a mistake.  I stop moving for a few seconds, just long enough for you to catch your math rhythm again, and you're back to writing.  I bite your neck," Don said, biting Charlie's neck, worrying the skin between his teeth.

Charlie groaned, thrusting now into Don's hand.  "Then what?"  It was getting progressively more difficult to stay standing.  Charlie found it impossible to believe that he could do basic multiplication tables if Don was touching him like this, let alone the problems he focused on at work.

"I'm not in a hurry," Don says in a soft voice.  "We're all alone in your office.  No one's going to come by.  I taste your skin, and I sense the pulse in your cock, and I feel your nipples get hard under my fingers.  I can smell the chalk and your sweat, and I just keep stroking."

Charlie couldn't think anymore.  He whimpered on every breath, his eyes closing, letting Don draw the picture in his mind.  Charlie would be lucky if he didn't get hard the next time he was in his office.  Every time he was in his office.  He could feel his balls tighten, his toes were curling.  "Don," he said, almost pleading, maybe warning.

"That's what you'd say, just my name, and then you come all over my hand."

And as if commanded to do so, Charlie did.  He came all over Don's hand, relieved when Don's other arm held him close, keeping him from slithering to the floor like a piece of overcooked spaghetti.  Then Don was dropping them back into bed and, this time, Charlie couldn't avoid the pull of satiation and he slipped off to sleep.

Voices woke Charlie up.  He lay in bed, momentarily disoriented.  The sun wasn't right for morning, and that didn't sound like his dad's voice.  But then he heard Don talking and Charlie grinned, everything crystal clear again. 

Stretching languorously across the bed, Charlie wondered who Don was talking to, and if he'd be finished soon so he could come back to bed.  What they'd done had been wonderful, but as far as Charlie was concerned, they were just getting started.

Don.  Charlie smiled again. 

A second voice identified itself.  Larry.  Sighing, Charlie rolled out of bed.  Don would probably need some help getting Larry out the door.  He pulled on his clothes after retrieving them from where they'd been flung.  Once dressed, he headed downstairs.

Halfway down he recognized Amita's voice.  Charlie stopped on the stairs, reality smacking him right between the eyes.  He couldn't go downstairs and put his arms around Don, couldn't kiss him, couldn't claim him in any way.  He might not ever be able to.  To the rest of the world they were still brothers. 

His elated mood of only a second ago fizzled out.  Slower now, he descended the rest of the stairs and walked to the kitchen.  He had to use every bit of self control he had not to move to Don.  Don looked half-naked.  He was half-naked.  All he had on were a pair of jeans.  Charlie was pretty sure he remembered seeing Don's underwear on the floor upstairs, which meant he had nothing on underneath.  He didn't have on a shirt, and his feet were bare.  He looked gorgeous.

Amita seemed all too aware of it.  She was standing a little too close to Don and paying just a little too much attention.

Larry smiled at his appearance.  "Charlie.  What's this I hear about you taking a nap in the middle of the day?"

Charlie met Don's eyes quickly, but Don wasn't giving anything away, other than a small grin that hovered around his lips.  Charlie wanted more than anything to go kiss that smile.  Forcing his eyes away, he went through the motions of getting a cup of coffee.  Don must have brewed some when he woke up.

"What time is it?" Charlie asked.  He felt like he'd been sleeping for hours.

"Four o'clock," Amita said.

That meant Charlie had only been sleeping for about thirty minutes.  He ran a hand through his hair, only realizing then that he hadn't even brushed it.  He probably looked like he stuck his finger in a light socket.  No wonder Amita was all over Don and practically ignoring him.  Not that Charlie wanted Amita to be paying attention to him.

He really wished he and Don had had a chance to talk to each other before they had to talk to anyone else.  He took a sip of his coffee. 

"Amita and Larry came by to see how Dad was doing," Don said. 

"Ah," Charlie responded, grateful for the information.  "Don told you he was fine?  He's just having some tests done."

Larry nodded.  "Yes he did.  Yes he did."

Larry was looking at Charlie closely, and it made him nervous.  So nervous he found himself blurting out, "We found out today that Don's adopted."

All eyes shifted to Don.

Don's eyebrows were up, and he looked a little startled by Charlie's sudden announcement, but then he nodded.  "Yeah, it was weird.  Dad figured I'd find out when we got the HLA typing back, so he sprang the news on me."

Larry's mouth was open as he looked back and forth between Don and Charlie.  "That's, well, that's extraordinary."

"Are you all right?" Amita asked Don.  "That must have been hard to hear."

Don leaned back against the counter he was in front of, looking entirely too edible for Charlie's peace of mind.  Charlie hoped like hell he wasn't giving everything away.  "Actually, not so much," Don said with a smile, avoiding Charlie's eyes.  "He's still my dad.  Nothing's going to change that."

"So you two aren't brothers," Larry said slowly.

Charlie shook his head, doing his best not to look overly delighted by the news.

"Truly extraordinary," Larry said again.  He looked a little confused.

That was when Charlie noticed that Don had a love bite over his left nipple.  A love bite he'd put there.  Charlie couldn't resist touching the same spot on his chest.  He had love bites, too, but they were covered by his clothes.  His movement made Don look down.  Don's hand casually covered the spot and he flashed a look of desire at Charlie that almost melted him on the spot.   

"Well, I need to shower and get dressed," Don said, impressing Charlie with his nonchalance when Charlie felt like he was on fire.  "I told Dad we'd drop by for dinner."

Amita looked crestfallen, and her eyes followed Don's ass out of the room.

Charlie gritted his teeth. 

"So you both took the afternoon off?" Larry asked.

Charlie nodded.  "It's been a long couple of weeks.  We decided we both deserved to take it easy for the rest of the day."  He grinned ruefully at his friends, hoping he was pulling casual off as well as Don.  "We both fell asleep." 

"Not your brother," Larry said again, apparently stuck.

"Not my brother," Charlie echoed.  Despite having had two mind-blowing orgasms, it still seemed inconceivable to Charlie that he could have this.  Unless Don was freaking out.  Nervous at the thought, Charlie felt an urgent need to get upstairs and talk to Don.  The problem was that neither Larry nor Amita looked like they were going anywhere. 

In fact, Amita was settling in, pouring herself a cup of coffee.  "Larry and I," she began, "were talking about how you could add an exam question on the center of gravity with integer coordinates."

"Uh huh," Charlie said out loud, thinking silently: out out out.

"Assuming they only need to consider coordinates modulo 3, and the coordinates of each point can be represented by one of the 27 three-digit numbers 000 to 222 in base 3, they could try a brute force search, starting with all 27 types and discarding some until they arrive at a set with no integer center of gravities," she continued.

It was close.  The lure of numbers was powerful and Charlie was very used to letting it hook him.  But he had a naked Don upstairs in the shower, and right now only the solution to a Millennium Problem…although if you checked each excluded type, one at a time, to see if any could be added without giving any integer center of gravities you could get a locally maximal…

No.  Naked Don.

Presuming on a friendship of many, many years, Charlie sidled up next to Larry and said softly, doing little more than mouthing the words.  "Go away."

Larry blinked at him.  Then his eyes widened.  "Oh.  Oh."  He looked at his watch.  "Look at the time," he exclaimed, tapping his watch.  "Amita, I'm sorry, but I need to go, in fact, I'm already late.  Would you mind?"

She looked surprised but amenable enough.  "Sure.  What are you late for?"

"Um," Larry said slowly, eyes meeting Charlie's in a panic.

Charlie snapped his fingers.  "That, uh, that experiment."

"Right," Larry said, "right.  That experiment."

"What experiment?" Amita said, inexplicably and thankfully clueless.

"I'll explain on the way," Larry said, walked toward the front door.  He sent Charlie a frantic look.

Charlie shrugged in apology.  "Bragg diffraction?" he whispered hopefully. 

"Okay," Larry said.  "All right."  Charlie could see his mind shooting off on some tangent.  Fortunately, Amita was used to both of them being in a world of their own.

"I'll tell Dad you both dropped by," Charlie said.

"If he needs something, or if you and Don need anything, let me know," Amita said genuinely.

Charlie smiled at her.  "Thanks."  He pointed out the door to where Larry was starting to wander down the street.  "He's getting away."

Amita laughed and, with another easy smile, ran after Larry.

Charlie shut the door behind them and locked it.  He raced up the stairs only to be tackled by Don when he got to the top.  "Took you long enough," Don said, nibbling on Charlie's neck.

Charlie pushed Don against the wall and bit him right on top of the love bite he'd noticed in the kitchen.  Maybe he couldn't claim Don in public, but he sure as hell could claim him here.  Then he was holding Don as tightly as he could.  "I was worried you were maybe regretting this.  Us," Charlie confessed.

"No," Don said, pulling back, framing Charlie's face with his hands.  "No, I don't.  Do you?"

"No," Charlie said quickly.  "It's just that when I got downstairs it all sort of sank in that nothing's changed.  With us it has, but the rest of the world still thinks we're brothers."

"And Dad wasn't exactly thrilled," Don added with a grimace.  "Not that I can blame him.  I can't believe I blurted it out like that."

Charlie smiled.  "I'm glad you did.  I mean, I'm not glad we got Dad upset, but I'm glad you said that you were in love with me.  Saying it in front of someone else made it seem so real."

Don bit at Charlie's lower lip, following the bite with a lick.  "I do love you."  He moved Charlie's shirt to reveal a fairly spectacular love bite on his shoulder, and he kissed it, saying, "I'm crazy about you."

Music to Charlie's ears.  "Did you take your shower?" he asked, hands working their way under the waistband of Don's jeans.

"No, I was waiting for you," Don said, returning the favor.

There was nothing Charlie wanted more than to climb in the shower with Don, but he found himself asking, "Will we be able to do this?  Can we make this work?"

Don stepped back and gave Charlie a frustrated look.  "Now you're asking me this?  I thought you wanted this."

"I do want it," Charlie assured him.  "I've always wanted it.  I guess I just never really gave it a lot of thought past the wanting part.  Finding out that you're not my blood brother made it all seem so, well, less problematic, but that's not really the case."

"It made it less problematic for me, Charlie.  It made it into something I could do and not hate myself for.  Maybe the social taboo against incest is just a social construct, but social constructs are pretty powerful.  I can do the lying and the hiding.  I've done that ever since I realized I like guys as much as women.  That doesn't bother me.  That I can do.  Can you?"  Don flashed Charlie a wry grin.  "I already know you can keep a secret.  The hardest thing for you is going to be keeping it off your face.  You looked like you wanted to tackle me in the kitchen," he added with a smug laugh.

"Maybe if you hadn't answered the door half-naked and looking like sex waiting to happen, Amita wouldn't have been all over you, making me want to tackle you," Charlie said, disgruntled.

Don laughed in delight.  "Charlie, are you jealous?"  He moved in close.  "Don't be jealous.  Trust me, there's nothing to be jealous about.  I've got all I can handle right here."

Only slightly mollified, Charlie frowned at Don.  "After you realized you had that love bite on your chest, you looked like you wanted to tackle me, too," he said defiantly.  "I'm not the only one who can't keep stuff off his face."

"Yeah," Don said, "but I left.  Sometimes you need to make a strategic retreat."

"You left me with them," Charlie complained.

"They came to see you."

"From where I was standing it looked like Amita came to see you," Charlie griped.

"Possessive, aren't you?" Don growled at Charlie.

"After waiting this long to be able to touch you?" Charlie sniped.  "You better believe it.  No one's touching you but me."

"Then how about we go take that shower and you can touch all you want?" Don said, nibbling on Charlie's ear.

Charlie closed his eyes at the sensation, his hips pushing against Don's.  "Good idea."  He groaned as Don's mouth moved down his neck.  "Did we, did we--" Charlie cut off with another moan.  He wanted to know if they'd come to a consensus about this, about their relationship, about the future.  But as Don undid Charlie's pants and reached in and wrapped his fingers around his cock, Charlie decided he didn't care.

Charlie and Don exchanged a look before they walked into their father's hospital room, both of them hoping this went well.  Once inside, Don was glad to see Shirley.  Her presence might help keep the conversation off of him and Charlie.  He still couldn't believe he'd just blabbed his feelings out like that, despite the fact that it had pleased Charlie.  If their dad disowned them, it would really suck.

Even if he didn't disown them, things were probably going to be awkward for a while.  "Hey, Dad, Shirley."  Don went over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  She smiled back at him in return and sent another smile toward Charlie.

"Don, Charlie," Alan said with less affection than usual, giving them a suspicious look over.  Don was glad his shirt covered all his love marks.  He didn't think anything was showing except maybe a little redness from beard burn.

"I told Shirley," Alan said in a tone that was half defiance, half apology.

Don's eyes opened wide and he glanced at Shirley.  He hadn't sensed any weirdness from her when he'd greeted her.  She didn't say anything in response to Alan's announcement except to frown at Alan, which Don found encouraging.

"She doesn't have an issue with the gay thing," Alan snapped out, annoyed.

"Since when do you have an issue with the gay thing?" Charlie asked, sitting down in the one extra chair in the room.  Don stayed standing, leaning against the wall by the door.

"I don't," Alan said.  "Not generally.  But specifically, with you two, I have issues.  Big issues.  I want grandchildren."

"Dad," Don began, "children were always a long shot with me.  With my job--"

"Don't give me that with my job business," Alan interrupted, pointing at Charlie.  "Obviously you have time for something."

"Charlie is as obsessed with his work as I am," Don protested.  "Plus I know him."

Alan snorted.

Don ignored the snort.  "That's a lot different from meeting someone new, taking the time to date, and seeing if something comes of it.  Not to mention that I'm hardly good husband or father material.  I'd never be home to take care of the kids."

"That's what your wife is for," Alan snapped out. 

"I suggest you rethink that last comment," Shirley said in an executioner's tone.

Alan let out a beleaguered sigh.  "Fine.  I withdraw my last comment.  But when you're married, you find a way to make it work."

"I don't want to have to find a way to make it work," Don said matter-of-factly.  "I love my job.  I want to keep doing it.  And when I have to stop, I'll be way too old for kids.  Marriage and kids weren't ever high on my list, Dad, no matter how much you wanted grandchildren."

Glowering, Alan turned to Charlie.  "What about you?"

"I don't even remember to eat, let alone making sure my kids ate," Charlie said candidly.  "They'd be taking them away from me and putting them in foster homes."

"Is this my fault?" Alan asked.  "Was I a bad father?  Did I make it seem too hard?"

"No, Dad," Don reassured him.  "It's nothing like that.  We just both love what we do."

"You raised two sons who believe in giving their all to their chosen fields," Shirley said.  "That's something to be proud of."

Don flashed her a grateful smile.  "I know you wanted us to get married and have kids," he said to his father, "but even without this thing between me and Charlie, I don't think it was going to happen."

"You're both surrounded by beautiful women," Alan whined.  "I don't understand it.  And I sure as hell don't understand the other part."  He glared at them both.  "I am not happy."

Shirley reached out and took his hand and squeezed it.  Don thought it was part comfort and part warning.

"Look," Don said.  "I'll move back to my apartment tomorrow.  I can even stop coming around."

"Wait," Charlie started, in an unhappy voice.

Don glanced at Charlie, trying to convey with a look that it wasn't what he wanted.  "It's Dad's home, too," Don said.  "He needs to be comfortable there." 

"No, no," Alan said.  "It's Charlie's house, not mine."

"Yes, it is," Don and Charlie both said at the same time.

"No," Alan said firmly.  "It's Charlie's house.  He bought it from me; he owns it.  And even if I don't approve, even if I think it's wrong, Charlie has the right to live how he wants in his own house."

Don stared at his father, not sure what to say.  With his dad so unhappy with their relationship, it wasn't like he and Charlie would indulge with him around.  He might as well move back to his apartment.

"When I decided to sell that house," Alan stated, "I meant what I said about it being time to live our own lives.  I appreciated the offer to live there, Charlie, but it was the easy route for me, not the right one."

Charlie frowned.

"You need to have a life of your own, and so do I," Alan said with a sigh.  "I still can't help but think that you loving Don is the same as you loving that house.  You don't like to let go of things, Charlie.  And if you don't let go of things, you won't be able to find what new things are out there.  I think you're turning to Don because he's safe."

Don forced himself to keep his mouth shut, although he didn't appreciate his father's pop psychology diagnosis of Charlie's feelings.  Even more than that was a niggling worry that maybe his dad was right.

"You think Don is safe?" Charlie asked with a short laugh.  "You think this thing I feel for him is safe?  You think knowing he goes off every day to a job where he could die is safe?  Or knowing that if people find out about us our lives will be destroyed is safe?"

"Charlie," Alan said, frowning.

"No, let me finish," Charlie said firmly.  "I understand what you're saying.  I've known Don my whole life.  He knows me better than anyone, just like I know him.  I guess in some ways he is like that house because it's always been home to me.  I love that house.  And I love Don."  He smiled crookedly at Don.  "A whole lot more than I love that house."

Don grinned.  "Good to know."

"If Don makes me feel safe, what's wrong with that?" Charlie argued reasonably.  "Shouldn't you want to be with someone who makes you feel safe?"

"I just don't want you settling," Alan said. 

"Hey," Don protested, insulted.

"I don't mean it that way," Alan backtracked.  "I just think Charlie maybe doesn't know what he's missing."

Charlie rolled his eyes.  "Jeez, Dad, you make me sound like some farm hick who's never been to the city.  I've lived in Europe, I've traveled all over the world, I've been in long-term relationships, and I've somehow managed to keep a job at a prestigious university.  I know what's out there, and Don's better than all of it."

Alan looked like he had more to say on the subject but it was hard to argue with Charlie's definitive tone, which pleased Don no end.  He was feeling as annoyed with his dad for his comments as he was touched by Charlie's. 

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

Shirley broke it.  "Your father is moving in with me."

Don's eyebrows went up.  "What?"

"I'm moving in with Shirley," Alan confirmed.

Don suddenly forgave his dad for his earlier comments as it was his turn now to question Alan's motives.  With an apologetic look toward Shirley, he asked his father, "Is this something you really want to do, or are you doing this because you don't want to deal with me and Charlie?"

"Both," Alan said honestly.  He squeezed Shirley's hand.  "I want to do this.  If there's anything this whole kidney thing has taught me, it's that you sometimes just have to grab hold of something good, and not let it get away."

Don managed not to point out that that's what he and Charlie were doing. 

"We know we haven't been together long," Shirley said, "but we love each other.  I get lonely in that big house of mine, and I want to share it with someone."

This could work, Don thought.  In fact, this could be great.  Don could stay with Charlie.  They could have a home together.  He caught Charlie's eyes and saw the same anticipation there that was in his own.  A home with Charlie. 

"So do we get to come visit you?" Charlie asked, clearly not sure of their welcome.

"Of course," Shirley exclaimed, as if surprised the question even needed to be asked.  "I'm hoping we'll all be family."

"And you're not weirded out by--" Charlie waved an index finger between he and Don.

Shirley shook her head.  "I knew you were close the minute I met you," she paused, then smiled, "Not this close, I grant you.  When Alan told me what was going on, I tried to imagine what I would have done if I felt that way about one of my siblings."

"What did you think about?" Charlie asked, fascinated.

"About how extraordinary it would be to be in a relationship with someone who knew you so well.  Who knew every bad thing about you, every wart and weakness, and loved you anyway.  That would be a remarkable kind of love."

Charlie was staring at her like she was the best thing since sliced bread.

"Of course, I already knew you two weren't brothers, so it was easier for me to accept.  It helps me to think that you're like two kids who grew up next door to each other that ended up falling in love."

Alan's lips tightened to a thin line but he kept his mouth shut.

"I do think, though," she continued, "that knowing someone that well also means that you would know how to hurt each other.   Something for you two to keep in mind.  And I also think it would be important to respect your family and not create a scandal," she advised gently.

"I don't think that will be a problem," Don said dryly.  It wasn't like he was about to start kissing Charlie in the middle of FBI headquarters.  He conveniently ignored the fact that he and Charlie had already been kissing in the middle of FBI headquarters.  At least they'd been behind a locked door.  "This is private."

"It's wrong," Alan snapped.

"It's private," Don said again.  "It's not wrong.  It was wrong when I thought Charlie and I were brothers.  It's why I, well, why I kept trying to say no."  Not that he'd been very successful.  "We're two men, unrelated by blood, who love each other.  And while that may be wrong in some people's eyes, it's not in mine."

"Or mine," Charlie said loyally.

"But I can promise you this," Don said.  "You'll never see it.  When I said it's private, I meant it.  If you're at the house, or if we're visiting you at Shirley's, you won't see a thing."

"And we're not about to announce to the world that we're not brothers," Charlie added.

Don raised his eyebrows.

Charlie reddened.  "They don't count."

"Who doesn't count?" Alan asked. 

"Amita and Larry," Charlie said.  "They dropped by this afternoon, wanting to know how you were."

Alan looked alarmed, as if imagining what Amita and Larry had walked in on.

"I was down in the kitchen when they arrived," Don said, putting his father out of his misery.  "I made them coffee."  To Charlie, he said, "And I think we should tell people we're not brothers.  We don't need to make a big production out of it, but it would let people get used to the idea."  And that way, if someone did see something they shouldn't, maybe it wouldn't end up being such a big deal.

Charlie considered that and nodded.

"What about your work, Donny?" Alan asked, switching subjects. 

"What about it?"

"What if they find out?"

"They won't.  They know Charlie and I are close.  They already know I've moved home and nobody cares."

"What will they say when you don't pay attention to women?" Alan probed.

"Just because I'm with Charlie doesn't mean I'm dead, Dad.  I can still pay attention to women.  I just won't do anything about it.  And seeing as I don't do anything about it now, I don't expect them to say anything."

"And you?" Alan asked Charlie.  "What about Amita?"

Charlie shrugged.  "Amita and I are friends."

"She wants more."

"She can't have more," Charlie said.  "She'll be fine.  She's a beautiful intelligent woman who'll never want for company."  He sent Don a narrow-eyed look that said and-that-better-not-ever-be-you.

Don grinned, liking this possessive territorial side to Charlie.  Focusing back on his dad, he decided it was time to switch subjects.  "They get all your tests done?"

As if just as glad to have the subject changed, Alan said quickly, "I still have a heart test they need to do in the morning, and then I'll be done." 

"Are you coming home, then?" Charlie asked, "Or are you going to Shirley's?"

"He'll come home with me," Shirley answered, "although we'll probably come by to pick up some things."

"It'll be weird not having you around," Charlie said sadly. 

"Yeah," Alan said, "for one thing, you'll have to cook for yourself."

Charlie made a face at that.

Alan rolled his eyes.  "Oy."  He looked at Don.  "You sure you know what you're getting yourself into?"

"Yeah," Don said.  "I think I've got a pretty good idea."  He'd be stocking the freezer with frozen dinners.  And they'd be eating out a lot.

"Give it a week," Alan warned Shirley, "and they'll be over every other day to get a home cooked meal."

Don took it as a good sign that Alan hadn't added that he'd be barricading the door against them.  Don had to believe that they'd work their way through this.  Maybe as time went by, Alan would start to believe this wasn't some weird perversion.

"You know you're getting quite a cook with Dad," Charlie said to Shirley.

She grinned.  "Why do you think I asked him to move in?"

And with that, they shifted into other topics, Don's latest case, Charlie's new student, the Master Gardening class Shirley was finishing up in hopes of finding a new career as a landscape architect.  Other than the occasionally troubled looks Alan shot him and Charlie, it almost felt normal. 

"Think he'll get used to it?" Charlie asked as they drove home.  The visit hadn't gone as badly as it could have, but some of his father's comments had stung.

Don nodded.  "Yeah.  He loves us.  He might not ever fully accept it, but he'll figure out a way to deal with it."

Charlie bit his lip and stared out the window.  "Did you, did you believe anything he said?  About me only wanting to be with you because I, um, because you're familiar to me?"

"Did you mean what you said back to Dad when he said that?" Don countered.

"Yeah."

"Then I believe you.  Okay?"

Charlie blew out a sigh of relief.  "Yeah.  Good." 

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

Then Charlie asked, "Did he make you feel this is wrong?  This thing between us?"  Don didn't answer right away, and Charlie felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.  "Don?"

"I'm thinking about how to answer that."

"Just a yes or no would work for me," Charlie said anxiously.  "Just so I know if I should be thinking about throwing myself out of the car."

Don grinned.  "Then, no."

"No?"

"I don't want you jumping out of the car."  Don looked pensive as he drove, and he rubbed at his five o'clock shadow.  "I'm not changing my mind, Charlie.  I love you, and I want us to be together.  But, yeah, some of the stuff he said bothered me."

"It'll be harder on you if someone finds out," Charlie said with some trepidation. 

"What do you mean?"

"Being the way I am, being so smart, people expect a certain amount of eccentricity.  I could probably get away with sleeping with my brother as long as I keep on being a genius.  But that won't happen with you."

"Yeah," Don said with a grin.  "They really don't appreciate eccentricity in an FBI agent."

"I'm serious," Charlie said.  "I don't want to screw your life up."

"What does that mean?" Don asked edgily.  "Are you trying to be noble and call this off?"

"No," Charlie said, appalled.  "No, never.  I just don't want you to have regrets.  I just want you to be sure.  I'd rather," he paused, collecting himself, "I'd rather not have this than have it for a while and then have you decide it isn't worth it."

Don pulled into their driveway, surprising Charlie because he hadn't even realized they were so close to home.  Don shut off the car and turned to face Charlie.  "Listen to me.  You are worth it.  The only thing I had to get past was my own issues with you being my brother.  That was the only thing that stood in the way on my end.  Does that mean I won't freak every now and then, or that I won't talk about how it sucks that we'll have to hide?  No.  I will freak, and it will suck, and I think you'll feel the same way."

Charlie swallowed, nodding.

"I need to know that I can freak every now and then without you thinking we're over," Don continued.  "I need to know I can bitch to you, because there's no one else I can bitch to about this."

That was fair.  "Okay.  I get that.  I'll do my best not to think the worst.  It's just that I've wanted this, wanted you for so long, I still can't believe it's happening.  I keep waiting for something to take it away."

Don reached out for Charlie, but then pulled his hand back.  "In the house."

Nodding, Charlie was out of the car and walking quickly to the front door.  He dropped the keys once, but managed to get the door open.  Once inside, the door shut behind them, Don leaned against it.  "It's happening, Charlie.  I'm here.  And it won't be me that walks away."

"Well, it won't be me either," Charlie avowed.

Don grinned at him.  "Then I think we'll be okay."  He locked the door.  "So, you in the mood for a permanent roommate?"

Without a second's hesitation, Charlie said exultantly, "Absolutely."

"You sure?  You don't have any doubts after that conversation with Dad?"

"Not about you," Charlie said with conviction.

Smiling, Don grinned again.  "Shirley was pretty great.  What are the odds that Dad would end up with someone who wouldn't freak about us?"

Charlie snickered.  "I get the feeling that Dad told her in hopes she would freak out.  I don't think he was too thrilled at how understanding she was."

"She'll bring him around," Don said.  "Sex is a powerful inducement."

Shuddering, Charlie said, "Please don't talk about Dad and sex.  It makes my mind go places it really doesn't want to go."

Don laughed as he slipped his coat off and threw it on the couch.  "I'll pay my half of the rent," Don offered.

"The house is paid for.  I paid cash for it."

Don's eyebrows went up.  "You have that kind of money?"

Charlie nodded with a smug smile.  "I have a lot of money."

Don tugged Charlie close again.  "You telling me I've landed myself a sugar daddy?"

"Does that make you my boy toy?" Charlie said, hopefully.

"Free rent in exchange for services?" Don asked with a leer.

"Sounds good to me."

"So what should I start with?" Don said in a teasing sexy voice.  "What's your pleasure?"

It gave Charlie a thrill to think that Don was his for the asking.  He wanted so many things he had to think about it for a while.  "I want what you were talking about earlier."

"We talked about a lot of things," Don said, his fingers sliding into Charlie's belt loops, bringing their groins together.  "What, exactly, do you want me to do to you?  Or maybe you want to do something to me?"

Charlie swallowed, visions of him and Don locked in a multitude of positions making him dizzy with desire.

Don's hands moved to Charlie's ass, kneading, his fingers pressing at his cleft.  "You want me to fuck you?" Don asked.  "You want to fuck me?" 

"Y-yes," Charlie stammered.

Don's smile was breathtaking.  "Which?  You want to fuck me?"  He moved his right hand until it was over Charlie's now aching cock.  "You want to thrust this inside of me?"

Charlie had to admit he hadn't been exposed to much dirty talk in bed, let alone standing in his living room, and he now saw this as a serious oversight on his part.  Don's words were turning him on so much he felt lightheaded with it.  "Y-yes," he managed to get out.

"It's gonna be so good," Don whispered in his ear, "to feel you inside of me."

Groaning, Charlie shoved Don's hand away and grabbed his balls.  "You keep talking like that and all I'll be doing is coming in my jeans."

That got a laugh out of Don.  "It turns me on that I turn you on this much."

"It turns me on that I turn you on," Charlie said in return, now that it looked like he wasn't going to embarrass himself by coming before they even got started.  His hands ran up the front of Don's shirt and he started unbuttoning it, his fingers toying with Don's chest hair.

"Let's take this upstairs," Don suggested.  Then he grinned, "Unless you really wanted to fuck me over the couch, or maybe the dining room table."

"You are evil," Charlie said darkly, his head now filled with these new visions.  "Upstairs.  Now."

Don took off for the stairs, a competitive gleam in his eye.  Charlie was right behind him.

Don was driving him insane, Charlie thought, doing his best not to come all over the bed.  Don was laying there on his side, two fingers up his ass, stretching himself for Charlie's cock.  Charlie had never watched gay porn, but he thought it must be just like this.  He kissed Don's hip, watching as his fingers pushed in, the moist sound of their passage unbearably erotic.

"Slick up one of your fingers," Don said in a low voice, his eyes dark with arousal.

Eager to comply, Charlie grabbed the bottle and got his index finger greased up.  "Now what?"

Don grinned at him.  "You need a map?"

Charlie felt himself redden.  "I didn't mean that."

Don grinned again.  "Come here.  Kiss me."

Stretching out next to Don, Charlie eagerly pressed his lips against Don.  Kissing him still felt like the rarest of luxuries.  He pushed his tongue into Don's mouth, thinking he would never stop wanting this.  When he pulled back to breathe, Don said, "I want your fingers.  I want you to touch me inside, see what happens when you touch that magic spot."  Don pulled his fingers out, wiping them on a towel he'd put on the bed.

Slicking up his finger again, his chin on Don's hip, Charlie carefully worked his finger inside.  It was hot and the muscles clenched against him, and Charlie realized it would do the same to his cock.  He couldn't wait. 

"It's towards the front, Charlie," Don coached.

Charlie rolled his eyes.  "I do know where the prostate is, thank you very much."

"Then what's taking you so damn long?" Don teased, a hint of breathlessness in his voice.

Determined, Charlie pressed in deeper, hoping like hell he actually did know where the prostate was.  It's not like he hadn't had what felt like a thousand prostate exams. 

It was the expression on Don's face that told Charlie he'd hit the right spot, and when he touched it again, the growl that came out of Don almost made him come again.  He experimented a little, trying to figure out what kind of touch made Don growl loudest. 

The only conclusion Charlie could draw was that Don didn't care how his prostate was touched, as long as it was.  Don's eyes were black from his dilated pupils, he was panting for breath, and he was pushing back on Charlie's finger as if he wanted Charlie's whole hand up there. 

The thought of that riveted Charlie.  Up until this exact moment in time he could honestly say that he'd never thought of that as something that could turn him on.  Of course he was pretty sure he'd never thought about fisting at all, but the idea of having his hand in Don paralyzed him with lust.  "Do you want more?" he managed to ask.

Don's "yes" was more breathless moan than an actual word. 

After using more lube, Charlie pushed back inside with three fingers.  The noise Don made was wholly appreciative.

"More?" Charlie asked again, after Don accepted the additional width, his fingers moving in and out easily.  "Please say yes," he begged.

"Yeah," Don gasped out.  "God, it feels--" He groaned again as Charlie began to work his little finger in.

"Good?"  Charlie wanted to keep going, but he didn't want to hurt Don.

Don nodded, grunting, growling, his eyes squeezed shut, his fingers twisted into the linens.  Charlie had never seen anything sexier than Don lost in the throes of passion.

Charlie pushed in with four fingers, feeling the sphincter muscle tight--so tight--around his knuckles.  It felt amazing.  "More?"

Don opened his eyes, attempting to focus on Charlie.  "You tryin' to crawl inside there?"  He wet his dry lips.

"Do you mind?" Charlie asked desperately.  "You look so, I can't even describe it.  You look so hot.  You feel amazing."

"Can't do anything half-way, can you?" Don wet his lips again.  He grinned, then closed his eyes, surrendering his body to Charlie.  "Just lube that thumb up good."

Charlie had to grab his balls with his free hand, tugging on them to keep from coming.  He felt within Don for his sweet spot, rubbing it, wanting Don to slip back into the sexual haze the conversation had partially interrupted.  Don let out another one of those growls that did something incredible to Charlie's body.

Taking the bottle of slick, he poured a large amount on his thumb and over his knuckles.  He slowly tucked his thumb against his other fingers and pushed.

There was some resistance, and a brief furrowing of Don's brow had Charlie pulling out again.

"No," Don said, stopping him.  "It's okay.  Just take it slow."

The thought occurred to Charlie that this wasn't the first time Don had done this, but then he pushed it away because the last thing he wanted to think about was Don in bed with anyone else.  Besides, Don was his now. 

He pushed again, small movements, making sure to touch Don's prostate, eliciting a steady stream of pleasured groans.  He watched as the entrance to Don's body stretched wider, slowly giving him entrance.  He tucked his thumb in a little bit more and just like that he was sliding in.

"I'm in you," Charlie said, stunned, breathless, turned on past the telling of it.

"Oh, yeah," Don huffed out. 

Charlie's hand was surrounded by heat and moistness, his wrist clamped tightly by strong sphincter muscles.  He pushed in further, brushing against Don's prostate with all his fingers.

"God," Don said, jerking, shoving back on Charlie's hand, pushing Charlie in another inch.  "Do that again."

Charlie did.  In fact, he constantly caressed Don, like playing quick scales on the piano, loving Don's writhing, his labored breathing, the semen leaking out of Don's hard cock.  That gave Charlie an idea.  His right hand deep within Don's body, Charlie leaned over and swallowed Don's cock as far as he could.

Don yelled and began moving in earnest.  Into Charlie's mouth, back onto Charlie's hand.  Charlie felt like he and Don were one body, connected on an almost molecular level.  He used his tongue to play with Don's cockhead, focusing on the area right underneath that drove Charlie crazy.  It seemed to work, as Don actually tore the sheet his fingers were digging into. 

Charlie could feel the start of Don's orgasm by the spasms around his wrist.  It was extraordinary to sense Don's orgasm so intimately this way.  Then Don was shooting in his mouth and Charlie loved that, too, swallowing every drop.

"Out," Don gasped.

"What?"

"Out.  Fuck me."

It took Charlie a few seconds to figure out what Don was asking for, but then he carefully pulled his hand out, hating the wince he saw on Don's face.

"Fuck me," Don demanded again.  He rolled onto his stomach.

Charlie took a moment to admire Don's ass, finally his after all these years, and then he was on top of Don, holding his cheeks open.  He pressed against the opening to Don's body and slid inside like butter, his cock instantly surrounded by heat and slickness.  It was perfect.  Better. 

He was fucking Don.  This time it was him growling, the sense of territoriality that swept through him startling Charlie with its intensity.  It made him thrust harder, deeper.

Don pushed back, getting up on his hands and knees.  "Yeah, that's it.  Fuck me."

Charlie gave himself up to the experience.  He pounded into Don, every thrust staking his claim, making Don his.  Harder and harder until Charlie could hardly breathe, and then he was coming deep inside of Don, the orgasm so strong Charlie thought he might be dying.

Both men collapsed on the bed, sucking in air.  Charlie thought maybe he fell asleep for a minute.  Don moving and groaning brought him around.  It didn't sound like a particularly happy groan.  Charlie lifted his head to see Don grimacing.  "Did I hurt you?" he asked apprehensively.

Don shrugged.  "Comes with the territory," he said philosophically with a grin.  "I won't be able to sit down tomorrow."

Worried, Charlie asked, "Was it all right?"

Barking out a laugh, Don rolled his eyes.  "Are you kidding me?  I know you've been keeping secrets, but you never told me you were a fucking porn star."

Blushing with pleasure, Charlie shook his head.  "You were the porn star.  You were so--" Charlie didn't have the words.

Don gingerly shifted in bed and gave Charlie a kiss.  "You, Charlie, were incredible.  Best ever."

"Really?" Charlie asked, delighted.

"Really," Don said with another kiss.  "Fearless, beautiful, enough natural talent to keep an entire football team happy.  How'd I get so lucky?"

"You inspire me," Charlie admitted honestly.  He'd never been this adventuresome in bed with anyone else.  But Don's body was made for him.  There wasn't an inch of it Charlie didn't want to explore and touch and taste.  "Besides, you let me do it all."

Don hummed a little.  "You were perfect."

"You were perfect," Charlie countered, kissing Don.  "No wonder Kim hates me if I took this away from her.  Man, I'd hate me, too."

"Kim?  Kim who?" Don asked with a small grin.

"How about Billy?" Charlie asked, suffused with a sudden rush of jealousy, wondering if Don had done all of this with him.

"Billy who?" Don asked again, more serious this time.  He cocked his head to the side, staring at Charlie.  "Charlie.  No one but you.  After what we just did, I can't even remember having sex with anyone else.  You wiped it all away." 

Charlie felt a weird juxtaposition of a sting of tears and a primal thrill.  "You gonna do that to me?"

"The fucking, yes.  Fisting?  We'll take that a little slower.  It's not for everyone."  Don wrinkled his nose.  "We definitely have to take a shower now because we stink, and these sheets are goners."  He poked his fingers through the torn fabric.  "See what you made me do?" he asked Charlie with a grin.

"I'll buy lots of sheets," Charlie promised.  "Lots and lots."

Laughing, Don held out his hand.  "Help me up.  You damn near killed me."

A little concerned when Don really seemed to need his help, Charlie frowned.  "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked once they were standing.

"Nothing some Tylenol and a hot bath won't fix," Don assured him.  "Come on, help me walk to the bathroom."  He took a step.  "Ow."  Then he grinned at Charlie and leaned down to kiss him.  "Totally worth it, porn star.  You knocked my socks off."

Reassured, Charlie helped Don into the bathroom, left him leaning against the counter while he started the shower.  "Want that bath now?"

"After I'm clean," Don said. 

They took a shower together but, unlike their earlier shower, this one wasn't about sex.  Charlie had come so hard he couldn't even imagine getting hard again.  He scrubbed his hand and cock, and when he was clean he lathered up Don, taking a moment to check his ass.  He was red and a little inflamed, but it didn't look like anything had torn.  Charlie very carefully washed him there, feeling that sense of ownership again.  "This ass," he proclaimed, "is mine."  If he had a flag, Charlie would have glued it to one of Don's cheeks.

"Want me to get your name tattooed there?" Don asked sleepily, leaning against the shower tile, letting Charlie do all the work.

"Would you do it if I said yes?"

"When I retire," Don answered.  "It might be a little hard to explain in the locker room."  He pried open his eyes and grinned at Charlie.

Charlie smirked back.  "I guess it would be."  He sniffed at his hand, wanting to make sure it was clean.  All he could smell was soap.  "Ready for that bath?"

"Hmm," Don said.

"Are you going to fall asleep in the tub?"

"Maybe," Don muttered.

Shaking his head at Don, Charlie shut off the water, pulled Don out and got him propped against the counter.  He moved to the claw foot tub and began to fill it with hot water.  When it had a few inches in it, he helped Don in.  Don was more asleep than awake and it swelled Charlie's heart to see how much Don was just entrusting himself to his care.

When Don was resting back, Charlie sat on the bath rug, deciding he'd stay close in case Don really did fall asleep.  Besides, this way he could admire Don at his leisure.

"Like what you see?" Don murmured.

"I love it," Charlie said.  "I love your body.  It's perfect."

Don snickered.  "Glad you think so."  He splashed Charlie with a finger flick of water.

"Do that again and I'll drown you," Charlie warned.

"Uh huh," Don said disbelievingly.  "And lose your boy toy?  I don't think so."  He flicked more water at Charlie.  "Want to get in with me?"  He patted his chest.  "You can lie right here."

Charlie was up and in the water before he'd even thought about it.  He sat down carefully, not wanting to jostle Don, and settled in between Don's legs, lying back on his chest.  "This is nice."  It was wonderful.

"Can't believe it's only been a day," Don said, his hands coming around to clasp over Charlie's stomach.

"What do you mean?"

"Us.  You and me?  It feels like we've been together forever."

"We have," Charlie said.  "Ever since I was born.  Even before.  Remember?  We're a soul cluster."

"Right," Don said.  "How could I forget?"  He yanked on a couple of Charlie's chest hairs.

Feeling warm and toasty between the heat of the water and the furnace of Don's body, Charlie decided to forgive him this once.

"So you're going to donate your kidney?" Larry asked Charlie the next week.

Charlie nodded.  "I was a perfect match.  Blood type and HLA typing."  Don hadn't even been in the ballpark.  If Alan hadn't told him he was adopted, Don certainly would have figured it out when he'd seen the lab results.

"When is it scheduled?  Do you need me to teach your classes?" Amita offered.

Smiling, Charlie nodded.  "In nine days, and that would be terrific.  Thank you.  They're doing the procedure laparoscopically, so I should be fine in a couple of weeks."

"Really?" Larry asked.  "I had no idea they could do it that way."

"Neither did I," Charlie admitted, "but it sounded good to me."  He really didn't like pain and hadn't been looking forward to being cut open. 

"Don wasn't disappointed he couldn't donate?" Amita asked.

"He's too worried about me and Dad to even think about it," Charlie said with a rueful smile.  "When they came up with the phrase 'mother hen' they were talking about Don.  He's already hovering and we haven't even had the surgery yet."

"I imagine it would be very difficult for anyone to have the two people they love most having surgery at the same time," Larry said gently.

"I know, and I really don't mind."  He really, really didn't mind, as Don's way to assure himself that Charlie was fine was to touch and lick every inch of him until Charlie was a wet noodle.  "He's taking a couple weeks off from work after the surgery to keep an eye on me."

"If you need anything," Larry said, "you only need ask."

"That goes for me, too," Amita said with a smile.

"I know.  Thanks."  Not that he didn't want to see them or have them come by, but Charlie and Don were still spending a great deal of their time together naked in bed.  It was as if they were making up for all the years Charlie had done without.  As far as Charlie was concerned, they still had years to go.

Larry and Amita had come over two nights ago, along with Terry and David.  Shirley and Alan had joined them, too, and they'd sat around all evening playing cards and scrabble and eating appetizers.  It had been fun, but Charlie was glad when they left.  He and Don had had sex on the kitchen floor that night.

"I like Shirley very much," Larry said, interrupting Charlie's thoughts, which was a good thing as he was starting to get an erection.  It didn't take much these days.  A stray thought of Don and his blood started heading south.  He'd actually made a mistake on one of his equations the other day.  Charlie blamed it entirely on the sex they'd had the night before when Don had fucked him on the dining room table.

"What?" Charlie asked, already losing track of the conversation.

"Shirley," Larry prompted kindly.  "I like her.  Your father seems happy."

"Yeah, he does.  I like her, too."  Charlie had been a little nervous about them coming over, but it had been like old times, his dad as affable as ever.  Charlie hadn't looked up once to find his father staring at him.

Maybe it had helped that no one else seemed to notice anything going on between him and Don.  Proof positive that a scarlet "I" wasn't tattooed on their foreheads. 

They'd announced that night that Don was moving in permanently, and no one had made a fuss.  Charlie suspected it was because everyone thought he needed a keeper, and now that his dad was gone, Don was taking over the job.  Even if that was what they thought, Charlie could live with it, if it meant Don could live there without anyone suspecting anything.

Amita checked her watch and exclaimed, "I've got a class.  Talk to you later."  She was gone before either he or Larry could say goodbye.

"You look happy, too, Charles," Larry observed.  "Are you happy?"

Charlie smiled at Larry.  "I'm really happy."  He let out a soft laugh.  "Really, really happy."

"Good," Larry said, pleased.  "I'm glad.  Although," he added, leaning in to flip open the collar to Charlie's jacket, "you might want to watch the hickies."

Charlie slapped a hand over his neck.  Don had gotten a little carried away last night.  Apparently, it had been his night to feel territorial.  Charlie had love bites from his ankles to his neck, the making of each one had been accompanied by a growled "mine".  Charlie hoped most of them faded before he had to go into surgery.  He glanced up at his friend to find him smiling smugly.

Charlie rolled his eyes and smiled back.

"What time is it?" Charlie asked for the fourth time in ten minutes.

Larry glanced at his watch.  "Time, Charles, is relative."

Charlie wasn't in a good mood.  "What time?" he asked again through clenched teeth.

Charlie had left his watch at home along with all his other valuables for his surgery.  He and Larry were in the pre-anesthesia unit, Charlie on a gurney in a hospital gown, Larry in a chair on the right side of the stretcher. 

Don was the one who was supposed to be here, but he'd gotten a surprise phone call at the crack of dawn saying there was a drill going on at FBI headquarters and he had to come in.  Don had been furious, by Charlie's report, and Larry didn't blame him.  Apparently, Don had been angry enough to quit.  But Charlie had refused to let him and had called Larry to play chauffeur.

"The actual data in this instance is meaningless," Larry tried again.  "I could, for instance, tell you that 120 seconds have passed, and yet that would have absolutely no bearing on your subjective experience of the passage of time."

It was getting harder and harder to divert Charlie.  Larry had considered finding the nurse and suggesting that they administer Charlie's sedation early.  While Larry had never been one to condone the usage of drugs to cope with the unpleasant vagaries of life, right now he'd applaud their use.

The problem was that Don had called twice already, and when the last call had come to an end, he had promised to call back in thirty minutes.  A thirty minutes that had now come and gone twice.  Don wasn't answering his cell phone, and the FBI switchboard wasn't putting calls through, presumably because of the drill.

Charlie had completely lost his sense of humor and was sharing the pain.

"What time is it?" Charlie asked like a dog with a bone.

Larry sighed and looked at his watch.

Don was pissed and wasn't afraid to let it show.  Of all the fucking days to have a drill.  Why the person making the phone calls couldn't have just skipped his name was beyond Don.  His father and his--Don hesitated, still not sure how to define Charlie in his head--brother, lover, whatever, were at the hospital, and he needed to be with them.

Don would have chucked it all, quit right then and there on the phone, but Charlie had stopped him.  Don was still tempted.  If the damn thing wasn't called soon, he was walking out the door.  He was supposed to be on family leave, damn it.  As soon as he got home, he was disconnecting all the phones.

His unit wasn't even the drill leader.  For the most part they were sitting around with their thumbs up their asses.

Fuck.

He wasn't sure if it was because he was distracted with thoughts of Charlie and his dad, or because his guard was down due to the fact he was surrounded by dozens of agents, but when he noticed someone in his peripheral vision it was too late to get out of harm's way.

Don let out a yell to alert his team but then the man's weapon was out, and he was firing at Don.  As he fell to the floor, his body spasming in pain, his last thought was of Charlie.

A nurse came to the door.  "Is there a Dr. Fleinhardt here?" she asked.

Larry raised his hand.  "That would be me."

"There's a phone call for you out at the nurse's station.

Larry furrowed his brow, caught Charlie's worried look.  "Me?"  He couldn't imagine who would be calling, at least he couldn't imagine anything good.  He pulled out Charlie's cell phone that he'd been given responsibility for and handed it to Charlie. "I didn't miss a call, did I?" 

Charlie took it, pushed a few buttons, and shook his head.  "No."

Larry stood and followed the nurse out to the station.  "Line 2305," she instructed.

Larry stared at the phone for a moment, then picked up the receiver, pressing the extension labeled 2305.  "This is Dr. Fleinhardt," he said nervously.

"This is David Sinclair." 

David sounded harried, not a good sign.  Especially as there was no reason for David to be calling if Don were able.  Nor was there any reason for David not to use Charlie's cell phone unless David didn't want Charlie to hear what he had to say. 

"Is something wrong?" Larry asked.  "Is Agent Eppes all right?"

There was a pause.  Larry could hear voices in the background.  He couldn't quite make them out.

"Wait," Larry said when he heard David draw in a breath.  "Don't tell me.  I'm a terrible liar.  Even if I don't say it, Charlie will see it all over my face, and I'll crack under the pressure."

There was another pause.  "Okay.  Tell Charlie that, uh, that Don's, um, that he's fine, but that he's gonna be late.  He's probably not gonna get there until after Charlie's gone in for surgery."

Larry thought maybe he could lie better than that.  Considering that David was an FBI agent, Larry wasn't impressed.

He heard someone yell, "The paramedics are here."

"Shit," David said.  "I gotta go."  He hung up.

Larry stared at the phone wishing two things with all his might.  One, that Don was truly fine, and two, that Charlie would be heavily sedated by the time Larry walked back to his cubicle.

He almost got his wish.  They were sedating him when Larry peeked his head around the corner.  Charlie's eyes were scared.  "Something's wrong, isn't it?" Charlie demanded, his face white.  "I can tell.  What happened?"

Larry had thought up a lie during the short walk from the nurse's station.  Pushing his fear away, sure it would show on his face, Larry said, "Don asked David to call to say he's going to be later than he thought.  He's in with his boss wrapping things up."  There.  That sounded reasonable. 

"You're lying," Charlie said.

Larry sighed.

Charlie's eyes were blinking against the pull of the drug.  "Where's Don?  I want Don."

Larry had nothing to offer Charlie.  Feeling cruel and hating it, Larry kept his mouth shut and gave the drug time to work.

"Don," Charlie said one last time before his eyes closed and he grew still on the gurney.

Charlie had a vague recollection of waking up, of vital signs being taken, of being asked questions to make sure he was oriented.  Then he fell back asleep.  The next time he woke up was when he was being wheeled through the hallways, presumably from the Recovery Room up to the floor.  Charlie fell asleep before he got there, although he did remember being shifted from the stretcher to his bed.

Waking up again, Charlie felt a little less drugged, like maybe he'd be able to stay awake for a few minutes.  He focused on his environment.  The room was warm, the lights dimmed.  There were voices. 

He recognized Larry's voice.  He thought the woman was Shirley.  And that other man's voice…did not sound like Don.  Charlie woke up for real.  And even though his head felt as heavy as lead, he turned it to look for Don.  He wasn't there.

"Where's Don?" he croaked out, fear rapidly chasing all his drowsiness away.

David and Larry exchanged a guilty look.

"Where is he?" Charlie pleaded.  "What happened?" 

"Charlie, I'm right here," Don said, walking into the room with a limp.

The relief at seeing Don was so great Charlie could have cried.  Don moved across the room and sat on the bed next to Charlie's hip.  "Hey," he said softly.  "Give me a minute alone with Charlie, would you?" he said to the room at large.

"Sure," David said easily, as he, Larry and Shirley all stood.

Finding his manners a little late, Charlie smiled at them.  "Thanks for being here."

They all smiled at him and paraded out of the room, Larry shutting the door behind him.  Don closed the curtain as well, giving them some additional privacy.  "Hey," he said again.  "Sorry I missed the show."

Charlie grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together.  "What happened?  Why are you limping?"  He wanted Don to crawl into bed with him.

Don raised the head of the bed, and then carefully hugged Charlie.  "It was stupid.  Some asshole who works in the building in finance or something decided a drill would be the perfect time for some payback.  I wasn't even the right person," Don said with exasperation. 

Charlie wanted facts.  He ran his hand over Don's chest and sides.  "What did he do?"

"He shot me with a fucking taser gun.  Shit, those things hurt."

"A taser gun?" Charlie repeated, lifting Don's shirt, checking his body for bullet holes.  "Why are you limping?"

"It makes your muscles go wonky, and when I fell I landed wrong.  Did something to my knee."

"What do you mean you were the wrong person?"

"He wanted some other guy named Don.  He's lucky he didn't get shot by one of the fifty agents in the near vicinity.  I guess he surrendered right away.  Total idiot.  Nuts," Don added conclusively. 

"I knew something was wrong," Charlie said, sagging into Don's arms.  "When you didn't call, I knew something was wrong."

"I was out of it for a while," Don admitted.  "I guess the taser was a souped-up model and really zapped me.  They even called the paramedics.  As soon as I woke up, I asked David to call and get a message to you." 

"If he'd had a gun, you could have been dead," Charlie whispered into Don's chest, appalled.

"Says the guy who just went under the knife."  Don got his fingers beneath Charlie's chin and made him raise his head.  "You all right?  Do you hurt?"

"Just a little."  Charlie leaned back, shifting the blanket, lifting his hospital gown to reveal the small bandages on his abdomen.  "I'm okay now that you're here."  Then, his eyes opened wide.  "Jeez, how's Dad?"

"He's good.  That's where I was, talking to the doctor.  He said everything went off without a hitch.  They also said I can wheel you up later to see him."  Don cupped Charlie's face with his hand.  "I'm sorry I wasn't here.  I'm sorry you had to go into surgery thinking something had happened to me."

"Me, too," Charlie said with a grim smile.  "But, now you're here and everything's fine."

"Now I'm here," Don said with a smile, and he leaned forward to press a light kiss on Charlie's lips.  "And now I better let everyone else back in or they're going to wonder what we're getting up to in here."

"Drill's over?  You don't need to go back?" Charlie asked, not wanting to let Don out of his sight.

"I'm off for two weeks, buddy, and I told them I was throwing my phone away."

"At least you still have a job," Charlie, mustering up a grin.

"Thanks to you," Don said.  "I was ready to tell them to take the job and shove it up their ass."  He grinned broadly.  "After all, it's not like I don't have a rich sugar daddy to pay my bills for me."

Charlie rolled his eyes.  Then he yawned. 

Don kissed the end of his nose.  "I love you," Don said. 

"Me, too," Charlie replied, yawning again.  "I think I'm ready to sleep some more," he said.

"Then let me get everyone in here to say their hellos, and then I'll show them the door," Don said, standing.

"But you're staying?" Charlie asked.

"Just let them try to get me out of here.  I'm armed."

Charlie hummed sleepily.  "Sexy guy."

"I don't know what it is about you and guns, Charlie."  Don tsk tsked a couple of times, grinning.  He kept the curtain closed and walked around it to open the door.  In a few seconds Larry, Shirley, David, and now Amita walked in.  Charlie felt instantly exhausted.

"You've got five minutes," Don announced.  Looking at Charlie he added, "While they're here I'm gonna run up and see if Dad's made it to the ICU." 

Charlie frowned.

"I'll be right back, I promise."

Charlie reluctantly nodded, and Don was out the door.  His absence made the room feel ten degrees colder.  Charlie grabbed for his blankets, pulling them higher on his chest.  Shirley unfolded the blanket from the foot of the bed and tucked him in with that.  "You warmer now?" she asked.

Nodding, Charlie smiled at her.  "So Dad's really okay?" he asked her.

"He's fine.  The doctors are really pleased.  Now everyone's going to be on tenterhooks waiting for your father to urinate to see if your kidney is on the job.  You can imagine how much your dad will enjoy that"

Charlie grinned, knowing his dad would hate it.  "Don said he'd take me up later to see him."

"I know he'll be glad to see you safe and sound.  He's been more worried about you than himself," Shirley said with an understanding grin.

Glancing at Larry, Charlie smiled ruefully at him.  "Sorry for freaking out on you."

"Completely understandable," Larry said grandly.  "Although, I must admit to an immense gratitude that you were sedated when I rejoined you."

"And I'm sorry about that phone call," David said to Larry.  "There was a bunch of stuff going on."

Larry waved his concern off kindly.  "I'm just glad it all ended well."

Charlie was, too.  Exceedingly glad.  "Classes go okay?" he asked Amita.

She nodded.  "They'd rather have you teach their classes, but things went okay.  A bunch of them asked about you and sent their regards."

"That's nice," Charlie said with a smile.  "Tell them thank you.  And I have no doubt you did an excellent job.  They probably won't want me back."

Amita tucked some hair behind her ear, pleased by the compliment.

"Terry says hello, too," David said.  "She had to stay behind to do all the paperwork.  She'll try to drop by tomorrow."

He was grateful for the company, but Charlie wanted Don back and for these guys to go.  He was tired and starting to hurt.

His wish coming true, Don chose that moment to return with a nurse in tow with pain medicine in hand.  She attached a syringe to a small pump, proficiently programming it.  While she was there, she started taking Charlie's vital signs. 

"Time for me to shoo you all out," Don said kindly, his face revealing his gratitude at their presence.  To Shirley he said, "Dad's up in the ICU, but he's pretty groggy.  He's asking for you."

That was all she needed to hear.  She pressed a quick kiss to Charlie's cheek, squeezed Don's hand, and left to be with Alan.

"If you need anything," Larry said, "please let me know."  The sentiment was echoed by Amita and David.

"Thank you," Don said with a smile.  "I'll be holding you to that once I get him home.  I'll need some serious help keeping him distracted."

"I'll bring the scrabble board," Larry said with an impish grin.

"Sadist," Charlie muttered.

Then they were gone, and after the nurse finished taking her readings, Charlie was alone with Don.  "Sit here," he said, patting the bed.  "I want you close."

Don sat down as instructed.  "Works for me."  Don took Charlie's hand, holding it with both of his. 

"You could have died today," Charlie said, feeling a renewed flush of fear.

"Don't go there," Don advised.  "Besides, like I said, you were the one having surgery today."  He brought Charlie's hand up to his mouth and kissed his palm.  "We're both fine.  Dad's fine."

They were all fine.  Charlie nodded.  Don was fine, and he was here.  He yawned, feeling the sleepy effects of the new pain meds.  "I'm gonna sleep now," he warned Don.  The last thing he saw before getting pulled under was a loving grin on Don's face.

It was Don's first day back at work, and he was missing Charlie.  Charlie had started back to work today, as well, and Don had already called him twice to check on him.  Not that there was any need to worry considering the sex they'd had last night.  Charlie was fully recovered. 

But Don had gotten used to having Charlie around all the time.  Liked being able to kiss him anytime he felt like it.  Liked having Charlie do the same to him.  Liked waking up with him and being able to laze around in bed. 

"We got him," David crowed from his cubicle.

Don pushed thoughts of Charlie aside and joined him.  "Where is he?"

"At his girlfriend's.  They just called it in."

"Let's go," Don said.  Time to gear up and go get this scumbag.

The scumbag was in custody without any shots being fired, and it was time to call it a day.  David was on paperwork duty and was headed back to headquarters with Terry.

Don glanced at his watch, saw it was dinner time.  Then he glanced down at himself.  He was all dressed up in his gear and his guns and had no place to go.  Grinning, he patted his thigh holster.  Technically he should return to headquarters and sign all this equipment back in but he could do it later.  It would only be an issue if any of this stuff was used in a crime, and Don had other plans for the evening.  He reached for his phone and dialed home. 

"Hello," came Charlie's voice.

"You home?" Don asked.

"Is that a trick question?"

"Okay, a better question is, are you alone?"

There was a pause, then, "Yes," a hint of excitement in Charlie's tone.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Don said.  "Make sure there's nothing on the stove."  He unloaded his gun and his rifle, putting the clips in a vest pocket.  "Don't let anyone else in."  He got in his SUV, put his seat belt on, and turned the vehicle on.

"Okay," Charlie said in a husky tone.

"Oh, and Charlie?"

"Yeah."

"You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.  Can you guess what I'm wearing?"

Charlie gasped.  "Get your ass home."

"On my way."  Don hung up the phone, shifted to drive, grinned, and headed home.

The End

May 17, 2006

If you liked the story, please let me know:  ladyra11@yahoo.com

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