Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairing: Colby Grainger/?
Rating-R
Wordcount: 830
Notes: Written for
kimberweeme who wanted a Colby fic, with a het pairing, but said I could surprise her. I hope I succeeded. Thanks to hllangel for the look-over.Talk about your dry spells; this one’s starting to feel like a goddamned drought.
He used to blame the job. And the other job. Being a double-agent is definitely not conducive to love and romance, nor is being in prison, escaping from prison, and almost getting yourself killed trying to figure out where your loyalties lie and who you really are.
But that’s all over and he still can’t score to save his life, in spite of what seems to be a conspiracy of sorts to get him hooked up. Megan, David, and even Lt. Walker, of all people had provided names and phone numbers of women they considered suitable dating material.
Colby had dutifully taken them out and had varying degrees of pleasant evenings, all of which ended up the same way, with polite good-byes and him alone.
You think he’d have worn out a library’s worth of dirty DVD’s and grown hairy palms by now, but he’s never been that kind of guy and some of the shit he’s been through in the last year has made him the slightest bit gun-shy. Hell, he’d almost gotten out of the habit back in Afghanistan. Couldn’t be caught with your hand down your pants when the bombs went off, and who had the time or privacy anyway?
But this is ridiculous. There’s one of those too-perfect LA sunsets outside and a breeze blowing through the condo. Thai food from his favorite take-out place. Another case closed successfully. All the good things in life, making the loneliness stand out even more in contrast.
He’s not in the desert. He’s not in prison. All he has to do is lie down and whip it out like a million other lonely bastards down in the Valley. There’s a whole back-log of fantasies he’d like to try out. Women’s he’s met, worked with, fought with and said good-bye to.
Why is it so hard for him to jerk off like any other Joe? He knows the answer, but tries to pretend he doesn’t.
It’s all Don’s fault for bringing his brother into the mix.
Bad for him to think that, right there. How many cases have they solved with all those crazy figures on Charlie’s blackboard that they might not have otherwise? Almost every one of those calculations and algorithms had saved lives. He couldn’t argue with any of that. But look what that had done to him. To the team. Being a good agent wasn’t enough anymore. If you weren’t smart enough to keep up with the genius, what use were you? Just muscle and guns, beating up the bad-guys while the kid who couldn’t be troubled to shave properly got all the glory.
It’s not that he’s jealous because he was never about that shit. Never.
He’s getting angry and being angry is making him hard and that’s not good either.
Megan had told him that she felt like she had to read science journals at night just to keep up with Larry’s dinner chat. Megan and Larry. Something he really shouldn’t have anywhere in his mind, not while his dick is in his hand and he’s getting just horny enough to admit which member of the Cal-Sci faculty he’d really like to have with him now.
But not yet, because he knows it’s wrong. Not just because she’s Charlie’s girlfriend, and she was just recently a student, so she got to be about twenty years too young for him, but because she’s so damned smart.
Taken, and young, and smart and together it’s all makes his brain fuzz up long enough for him to forget all the reasons he shouldn’t want her and let himself imagine her here with him, now, in his bed. Dark curly hair; soft, dusky skin, sweet smile and those eyes. Every time he’s seen her in Charlie’s garage or Cal-Sci or during her rare visits to headquarters, he’s always stolen a few seconds to look at her eyes and he thinks once or twice she may have caught him and looked back smiling, even if she was really listening to Charlie try and explain something in a way that the Neanderthals could understand.
That’s how she would smile at him, and the way she would look if he were kissing her now, making her melt under him, saying his name, letting her fuck him, and it would all be so beautiful.
His mind stays blurred long enough for him to finish with a shout of pleasure that isn’t nearly enough to make up for all the physical contact he hasn’t had in god knows how long, but it’s a start.
Now he can get up and fix some dinner and watch the rest of the sunset, and not feel too envious of Don and Robin, or Megan and Larry, or even Charlie Eppes, that lucky bastard.
Things would never work out between Amita and a guy like him.
At least he’s smart enough to know it.