errorYou must be logged in to review this story.
NUMB3RS Drabbles
folder
M through R › NUMB3RS
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
41
Views:
7,866
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › NUMB3RS
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
41
Views:
7,866
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own NUMB3RS, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Alone
Title: Alone
Author: scots_rock
Pairing: Don/Charlie
Fandom: NUMB3RS
Rating: R
Word Count: 170
Warning: Death fic
Disclaimer: Not mine. This is fiction.
Feedback: Awesome
Author's Notes: Don’s last words. Angst. I was in the mood. Stands alone. No spoilers. Inspired by Lamb’s “Gorecki”.
He is called a loner. A lonely man. Strange thing is, Don has never felt lonely with Charlie. Can’t remember. Charlie. Black curls, soft lips, brown, curious eyes. His gaze always gentle, always revealing the love.
Don shuts his eyes tightly, the pain is ripping his body apart.
Charlie. Don is not afraid of dying alone, of lying here helpless, immovable. It’s the fear of never seeing him again, never touching him again. Don loved running his hand through Charlie’s curls, tracing a fine line downwards to spine.
Coughing. Don stops the air with his hand but then he notices something wet, something warm. Blood.
Kissing Charlie, touching him, embracing him, holding on to him, cupping his face, caressing his skin, painting invisible circles on his chest and abdomen, tasting him, being with him. Missing Charlie.
It is dark in this small room, his clothes are torn, ripped from fighting, from struggling against them. He takes a deep breath in.
“Charlie.”
It aches, it pains, it hurts. Then it stops.
Author: scots_rock
Pairing: Don/Charlie
Fandom: NUMB3RS
Rating: R
Word Count: 170
Warning: Death fic
Disclaimer: Not mine. This is fiction.
Feedback: Awesome
Author's Notes: Don’s last words. Angst. I was in the mood. Stands alone. No spoilers. Inspired by Lamb’s “Gorecki”.
He is called a loner. A lonely man. Strange thing is, Don has never felt lonely with Charlie. Can’t remember. Charlie. Black curls, soft lips, brown, curious eyes. His gaze always gentle, always revealing the love.
Don shuts his eyes tightly, the pain is ripping his body apart.
Charlie. Don is not afraid of dying alone, of lying here helpless, immovable. It’s the fear of never seeing him again, never touching him again. Don loved running his hand through Charlie’s curls, tracing a fine line downwards to spine.
Coughing. Don stops the air with his hand but then he notices something wet, something warm. Blood.
Kissing Charlie, touching him, embracing him, holding on to him, cupping his face, caressing his skin, painting invisible circles on his chest and abdomen, tasting him, being with him. Missing Charlie.
It is dark in this small room, his clothes are torn, ripped from fighting, from struggling against them. He takes a deep breath in.
“Charlie.”
It aches, it pains, it hurts. Then it stops.