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perpetual_motionTitle: Unquantifiable
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairing: Charlie/Larry
Rating: G
Summary: Charlie, Amita, Alan, and Larry, and how it all fits together in a way.
Dis: Lied. Not mine.
Author's Notes: This started out as an entirely different fic, was nearly forgotten, and has now been rewritten into what you see here.
Unquantifiable
By Perpetual Motion
When Amita asks him for a second date Charlie can’t come up with a reason to say no. He keeps thinking about Larry’s talk about the perfect kind of love, and he tries not to think about how he wants that love with Larry. About how Larry’s talks about Amita, always with an edge of desperation, like Larry’s afraid that pausing will cause Charlie to pin him to the wall and kiss him. The second dinner is less awkward, but on the third they try talking about things that aren’t math, and they’re back to picking at their meals.
“This isn’t going to work.” Amita sighs, shrugs, and throws her hair off of her shoulders. For just a moment, Charlie understands how beautiful she is. “I want romance, and romance isn’t quantifiable, so I think this is a good place to stop.” She takes a drink of her wine and smiles at him. “Now, what about math?”
And he falls in love with her a little bit for her bravery and her honesty, and for a minute, he considers trying to love her. But anyone willing to try and fail deserves to do better than Charlie fumbling his way through awkward dinners and non-existent good night kisses. She deserves better than Charlie’s late night fantasies including images of unbuttoning Larry’s god awful shirts and not peeling off all the lovely sweaters Amita has amassed over a period of years. She deserves someone who will mark her as absolute, when Charlie would, he knows, use her as a stepping stone to what he really wants. So he talks about math, and dinner continues.
Three hours later Amita drops him in front of his house, and Charlie pecks her on the cheek as he opens his door. “You deserve way better than me.”
Amita smiles and shifts the car into drive. “Oh, I knew that before tonight.”
She leaves him on the curb with a wave, and Charlie watches her drive around the corner at the end of the street before walking into the house. It’s quiet, but not sleeping-quiet, and Charlie isn’t surprised to find his dad waiting. He knows if he asks, he’ll just be told that it’s a good book and he lost track of time, so Charlie sits on the ottoman, waits for his dad to look up and announces, “It didn’t work.”
“What was it -- date number three? You’ve got time.”
Charlie shakes his head and pats his dad on the leg. “It’s not meant to be. She’s great, sure, but she wants romance.”
“You could give her romance.” His dad sounds affronted, like the idea of an unromantic son is an insult. Charlie thinks about how in love his dad still is with his mom and supposes that it may be the case.
“I could be romantic, probably, but it wouldn’t be with her.” He thinks about the hundred little ways he’s tried romance with Larry. Coffee runs, keeping extra pens around, three out of five air hockey tournaments. “I do like Amita, Dad. Just not because she’s female.”
“Too smart for you, huh?” And there’s a laugh in his dad’s voice that tells Charlie that his dad’s just glad he’s come to a conclusion.
“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.” Charlie stands and shrugs off his suit jacket, draping it over his arm. “I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow.” He’s got his hand on the banister and one foot on the stairs when his dad speaks again. Quietly, but with an intensity Charlie remembers from every single time he had to make an important decision in his life, and he’d asked his dad for advice.
“You need someone smarter than you. Someone smarter than Amita. Someone,” he takes off his glasses and Charlie sees the tension around his eyes, the lines deepening and the ear stem pressing into his bottom lip. “You need someone who won’t listen to everything you say and think it’s magic. Someone who’s grounded in reality.”
Someone who’s grounded in physics, Charlie thinks but doesn’t say; just nods and takes the stairs to his room. Wonders if telling his dad that he’ll be inviting Larry out to dinner tomorrow will get the same ‘I hope you fall in love’ look that he saw the first night he and Amita had dinner.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairing: Charlie/Larry
Rating: G
Summary: Charlie, Amita, Alan, and Larry, and how it all fits together in a way.
Dis: Lied. Not mine.
Author's Notes: This started out as an entirely different fic, was nearly forgotten, and has now been rewritten into what you see here.
Unquantifiable
By Perpetual Motion
When Amita asks him for a second date Charlie can’t come up with a reason to say no. He keeps thinking about Larry’s talk about the perfect kind of love, and he tries not to think about how he wants that love with Larry. About how Larry’s talks about Amita, always with an edge of desperation, like Larry’s afraid that pausing will cause Charlie to pin him to the wall and kiss him. The second dinner is less awkward, but on the third they try talking about things that aren’t math, and they’re back to picking at their meals.
“This isn’t going to work.” Amita sighs, shrugs, and throws her hair off of her shoulders. For just a moment, Charlie understands how beautiful she is. “I want romance, and romance isn’t quantifiable, so I think this is a good place to stop.” She takes a drink of her wine and smiles at him. “Now, what about math?”
And he falls in love with her a little bit for her bravery and her honesty, and for a minute, he considers trying to love her. But anyone willing to try and fail deserves to do better than Charlie fumbling his way through awkward dinners and non-existent good night kisses. She deserves better than Charlie’s late night fantasies including images of unbuttoning Larry’s god awful shirts and not peeling off all the lovely sweaters Amita has amassed over a period of years. She deserves someone who will mark her as absolute, when Charlie would, he knows, use her as a stepping stone to what he really wants. So he talks about math, and dinner continues.
Three hours later Amita drops him in front of his house, and Charlie pecks her on the cheek as he opens his door. “You deserve way better than me.”
Amita smiles and shifts the car into drive. “Oh, I knew that before tonight.”
She leaves him on the curb with a wave, and Charlie watches her drive around the corner at the end of the street before walking into the house. It’s quiet, but not sleeping-quiet, and Charlie isn’t surprised to find his dad waiting. He knows if he asks, he’ll just be told that it’s a good book and he lost track of time, so Charlie sits on the ottoman, waits for his dad to look up and announces, “It didn’t work.”
“What was it -- date number three? You’ve got time.”
Charlie shakes his head and pats his dad on the leg. “It’s not meant to be. She’s great, sure, but she wants romance.”
“You could give her romance.” His dad sounds affronted, like the idea of an unromantic son is an insult. Charlie thinks about how in love his dad still is with his mom and supposes that it may be the case.
“I could be romantic, probably, but it wouldn’t be with her.” He thinks about the hundred little ways he’s tried romance with Larry. Coffee runs, keeping extra pens around, three out of five air hockey tournaments. “I do like Amita, Dad. Just not because she’s female.”
“Too smart for you, huh?” And there’s a laugh in his dad’s voice that tells Charlie that his dad’s just glad he’s come to a conclusion.
“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.” Charlie stands and shrugs off his suit jacket, draping it over his arm. “I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow.” He’s got his hand on the banister and one foot on the stairs when his dad speaks again. Quietly, but with an intensity Charlie remembers from every single time he had to make an important decision in his life, and he’d asked his dad for advice.
“You need someone smarter than you. Someone smarter than Amita. Someone,” he takes off his glasses and Charlie sees the tension around his eyes, the lines deepening and the ear stem pressing into his bottom lip. “You need someone who won’t listen to everything you say and think it’s magic. Someone who’s grounded in reality.”
Someone who’s grounded in physics, Charlie thinks but doesn’t say; just nods and takes the stairs to his room. Wonders if telling his dad that he’ll be inviting Larry out to dinner tomorrow will get the same ‘I hope you fall in love’ look that he saw the first night he and Amita had dinner.
