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perpetual_motionTitle: Brilliance
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairing: Charlie/Larry
Rating: G
Summary: The chances of senility in one Larry Fleinhardt.
Dis: Not mine. Lied.
Author's Notes: For the lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
miriam_heddy, whose having a bit of a bad day. Hope this cheers you.
“And then I said...” Larry trailed off and scratched the side of his neck. “Well, I said something, certainly. And I’m sure it was both appropriate and witty at the time…” He stared at his shoes. “Was it in regards to the ketchup stain? Was it the shape?”
Charlie was convinced that if Larry ever became senile, neither of them would notice. Senility, Charlie was certain, would most likely run in fear of Larry, who has already figured out that to elude senility, you only have to be smart enough to never remember the end to any story.
“Damn,” Larry looked at Charlie and shrugged. “It was ingenious, whatever it was.”
“I have no doubt of that.” Charlie slid his hand up Larry’s back and curled it around the top of his shoulder. “You can finish the story after my class.”
“If I can’t remember it, I’m sure another story will want to be half-told.”
“Tell it to your class.”
Larry looked at his watch, cursed under his breath, and grabbed his notes from his desk. “Dinner?”
“You were-I’m taking you out.” And Charlie still wasn’t convinced that that particular bit of forgetfulness wasn’t just Larry being sneaky about not wanting to cook. “I’ll meet you in my office?”
“Okay. I’ve got to go. Time may be relative-“
“But student schedules never are,” Charlie finished with a grin. He grabbed his own notes and followed Larry out of the office, turning left when Larry turned right.
Amita was waiting by the lectern when Charlie walked into the room. She spoke in an undertone. “You’re late.”
“Not quite.” Charlie replied in the same low tone. From his glance at the class, it looked like they were mostly present. “Did you get the quizzes graded?”
“You’re not going to be happy.” Amita grimaced as Charlie flipped through the stack. “How many times did you review this stuff?”
“Twice in class, a few other times after class with people who,” Charlie poked a finger at the large “D” on the top edge of one of the quizzes, “apparently weren’t listening.” There was a sudden rush of air into the room that caused all the papers on the lectern to flutter, and Charlie looked towards the door. Larry stood in the doorway looking triumphant.
“The ketchup stain was on a mustard stain, and therefore not a stain at all, so there was no reason for apologies.” Larry nodded once, waved at Charlie, and exited the room.
There was dead silence for a few seconds, and then one of the students in the back of the room asked, “Is Professor Fleinhardt losing it?”
Charlie shook his head and ignored the small snicker coming from Amita. “Professor Fleinhardt is like higher math. Some people get it, and some people don’t. And, on that segue,” Charlie held up the quizzes, “let’s have a talk about why everyone in this room *should* be able to understand higher math.” Charlie ignored the groaning and launched into the lesson, keeping at the back of his mind, the triumphant stance Larry had taken at the door.
Senility would never get Larry Fleinhardt, because Larry could always finish his stories. Even if he had to take a break in the middle to let his mouth catch up with his brain.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairing: Charlie/Larry
Rating: G
Summary: The chances of senility in one Larry Fleinhardt.
Dis: Not mine. Lied.
Author's Notes: For the lovely
miriam_heddy, whose having a bit of a bad day. Hope this cheers you.“And then I said...” Larry trailed off and scratched the side of his neck. “Well, I said something, certainly. And I’m sure it was both appropriate and witty at the time…” He stared at his shoes. “Was it in regards to the ketchup stain? Was it the shape?”
Charlie was convinced that if Larry ever became senile, neither of them would notice. Senility, Charlie was certain, would most likely run in fear of Larry, who has already figured out that to elude senility, you only have to be smart enough to never remember the end to any story.
“Damn,” Larry looked at Charlie and shrugged. “It was ingenious, whatever it was.”
“I have no doubt of that.” Charlie slid his hand up Larry’s back and curled it around the top of his shoulder. “You can finish the story after my class.”
“If I can’t remember it, I’m sure another story will want to be half-told.”
“Tell it to your class.”
Larry looked at his watch, cursed under his breath, and grabbed his notes from his desk. “Dinner?”
“You were-I’m taking you out.” And Charlie still wasn’t convinced that that particular bit of forgetfulness wasn’t just Larry being sneaky about not wanting to cook. “I’ll meet you in my office?”
“Okay. I’ve got to go. Time may be relative-“
“But student schedules never are,” Charlie finished with a grin. He grabbed his own notes and followed Larry out of the office, turning left when Larry turned right.
Amita was waiting by the lectern when Charlie walked into the room. She spoke in an undertone. “You’re late.”
“Not quite.” Charlie replied in the same low tone. From his glance at the class, it looked like they were mostly present. “Did you get the quizzes graded?”
“You’re not going to be happy.” Amita grimaced as Charlie flipped through the stack. “How many times did you review this stuff?”
“Twice in class, a few other times after class with people who,” Charlie poked a finger at the large “D” on the top edge of one of the quizzes, “apparently weren’t listening.” There was a sudden rush of air into the room that caused all the papers on the lectern to flutter, and Charlie looked towards the door. Larry stood in the doorway looking triumphant.
“The ketchup stain was on a mustard stain, and therefore not a stain at all, so there was no reason for apologies.” Larry nodded once, waved at Charlie, and exited the room.
There was dead silence for a few seconds, and then one of the students in the back of the room asked, “Is Professor Fleinhardt losing it?”
Charlie shook his head and ignored the small snicker coming from Amita. “Professor Fleinhardt is like higher math. Some people get it, and some people don’t. And, on that segue,” Charlie held up the quizzes, “let’s have a talk about why everyone in this room *should* be able to understand higher math.” Charlie ignored the groaning and launched into the lesson, keeping at the back of his mind, the triumphant stance Larry had taken at the door.
Senility would never get Larry Fleinhardt, because Larry could always finish his stories. Even if he had to take a break in the middle to let his mouth catch up with his brain.