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26 November 2007 @ 12:23 pm
Numb3rs Fic: In Time of Need: Release  
Posted to numb3rs_het

Title: In Time of Need: Release
Series/Universe: In Time of Need
Pairing/Characters: Don/Megan
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Judgment Call, In Plain Sight
Summary: After the explosion Don offers what Megan needs
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

She doesn't even ask.

He just walks with her to her car, makes sure she gets in all right and says he'll follow her.

He's at her elbow before she can even finish unlocking her front door despite the fact she drove like a maniac to get there first.

She thinks she should offer him a beer, thinks maybe she should pour herself a stiff drink, but he takes her bag off her shoulder and leads her to the couch.

Two minutes later she's enfolded in his arms, body wracked with sobs.

He doesn't talk, other than to make small comforting noises. He knows there are no words - he speaks with his actions, his strength, his touch.

His message is not 'it wasn't your fault' or 'there was nothing you could have done' because she'd never buy those nor would he. The message she gets - feels - is 'I understand'.

It's exactly what she needs right now. To not be alone in this.

When the tears wane, he fetches her purse so she can rummage for tissues, dab at her ruined make up, take a moment to compose herself again. She thinks she's babbling about nothing, but he just smiles and nods so it's okay, whatever it was.

He stands, offers her his hand and she knows what it is he's offering, what she already accepted when she nodded to him in the garage about following her home.

With a shaking breath she puts her hand in his, lets him pull her up, lead her into the bedroom.

She figures it'll be hard and fast, forcing the thoughts from her mind. She knows Don and knows that aggression that simmers beneath the surface.

But there's nothing rushed about the way he lays her on the bed, stroking her hair and caressing her face for languid minutes until she tries to kick her own shoes off, impatient.

He scolds her lightly for getting ahead of things, but moves to her feet, tossing her shoes off the bed before peeling each trouser sock off inch by inch. He discards them and settles in at the bottom of the bed, massaging first her right foot then her left.

His touch is firm, assured, and as much as she wants to feel that touch in more important places, she relaxes into the massage, letting the tension drain from her body.

Resigned to a full body massage, she's thrown again when he leaves her feet behind to sit on the side of the bed. He takes one of her hands and lays it in his lap, setting himself to massage every minute muscle with the single-mindedness he brings to his vocation every day at work.

Her left hand throbs with neglect as he lavishes the right with attention, stretching, stroking, soothing...

By the time he shifts to the other side of the bed it feels like it might explode if he didn't come to diffuse it. He's extra gentle to start, as if he somehow knows this, but gives it the same thorough treatment as the previous one.

Her eyes drift closed and although she's not sleepy, there's a sense of peace in the blackness behind her eyes. It's only when he stops that she realizes he'd chased the images away - something she'd failed to do on her own since the explosion.

She opens her eyes to see him take off his white dress shirt. He holds it out to her and she takes it on automatic. Suddenly shy, for reasons she can't quite explain, she moves to sit on the edge of the bed facing away from him - taking her bra off under her shirt and quickly trading her sleeveless top for the button up shirt.

She buttons it only part way, enough for modesty and for access, and slips her slacks off, leaving them in a pool on the floor.

He's removed his own shoes and socks and somehow him barefoot in jeans and a plain white t-shirt on her bed seems intensely intimate - more so than her wearing just panties and his shirt.

His shirt. It hits her as she inhales. It smells like him. Wearing it is like an endless embrace, his arms around her, holding her, without letting her go.

He eases her back down, pulling her into his arms as he lies back with her head pillowed on his chest.

Despite her height they fit together nicely, something she attributes more to his experience with women than anything physiological. His arm around her feels solid and the fingers threading through her hair lull her into letting her eyes droop again.

She expected fast. He offered her slow.

She thought she'd be fucked out of her mind. He brought mindfulness to every task.

She wanted to be made numb. He knew she needed to feel.

Every emotion is vivid, thrown into relief against his wordless servitude. She feels so much and yet none of it has to do with what she felt after the explosion.

When she's ready - and she has no way of knowing how he realizes when that is - he shifts so that she's on her back and he's lounging on his side next to her.

She closes her eyes and focuses on the feel of his fingers tracing her jaw line, mapping the contours of her throat and skating across the exposed skin of her chest before disappearing under the soft white cotton.

Her breath catches just slightly as the pads of his fingers circle a nipple before he cups her breast in his warm palm. His thumb skims over her skin in lazy arcs, making her jump a little inside each time it brushes over the now hardened nub in the center.

She feels the loss when he withdraws his hand from her shirt, but he moves next to slip under the hem, drawing the flat of his hand back and forth across her abdomen.

It's a soothing gesture made slightly erotic by the proximity to the edge of her panties.

The wide swath of skin below her navel grows warm with the friction of movement and it warms her inside as well, the heat pooling in her belly and drifting lower as his hand does the same. His fingertips skim over the fabric once, twice, then slip beneath, seeking out her center. Fingers thread through curls, find folds, slip inside.

Her eyes fall closed and suddenly everything seems more intense. She feels his breath steady against her neck, his lips so close they brush her skin on some exhalations. She hears the soft ticking of the clock on her nightstand. She shifts her body ever so slightly and the textured fabric of the bedclothes rubs against her, each cell awakening at the sensation. His scent is mingling with her own now creating a new unique odor, one she'll never experience again, one she'll never forget.

As relaxed as his pace is, she can't help the speed at which her body responds. Maybe it's the stress, maybe it's been too long, maybe Don's as good as the rumors - she can't think about that now. But it's getting hard to think of anything other then the pleasure he is coaxing out of her.

The finger circling and stroking her clit stills as he shifts just enough to slip a finger deep inside her, then a second.

A gasp escapes her, a raw needy sound that broadcasts her impatience for more. It shouldn't be this good - with just his hand down her panties, but when he starts rubbing her clit again her whole body tenses, toes curling, fingers fisting in the sheets as he drives her to welcome distraction.

He nips at her earlobe - and how did he know how sensitive she is there - then swirls his tongue around her ear. The wet noises and slick seduction ratchet up her desire and she keens quietly, trying to tell him without words she's ready.

She puts a hand over his, urging him on. He acquiesces: speeding up, pressing harder, fingers flowing faster until she's clutching his wrist, clawing at the sheets and crying out to the air - the release she needed so desperately wrenched from her body like a still beating heart. She goes taut head to toe for seconds that feel like eternity, then falls back to earth spent, the aftershocks quaking through her with every miniscule movement of his hand before he slides it free, removing it to the safety of his side of the bed.

Oxygen restores her depleted lungs, restores her equilibrium. Don restores her sanity.

She curls into his solid form, letting him enfold her in his arms, letting him murmur little nothings to keep her present until sleep stakes its claim.

She wakes twice in the night - once screaming, dreaming she's burning and flailing at the imagined pain.

He shakes her back to herself and consoles her through the fresh tears that follow, his hands holding her tightly her only anchor in a world turned upside down.

How he manages to get her back to sleep each time is a mystery, but his somnambulist powers are more than sufficient and she sleeps past her normal morning wake up time.

He's up already and sitting on the edge of the bed, putting on his shoes and socks as she stirs, finally deciding that she's up for good.

When he moves to brush her mussed hair away from her face, she takes hold of his hand and presses a kiss into his palm.

He smiles serenely at her and nods. Their understanding is complete.

He leaves like he came, without a word, without asking anything of her.

She considers laying in bed all weekend, but gets up to shower instead, needing to wash away the day before, but regretting washing away the night.

Her hair's still wet and wrapped in a towel when the doorbell rings.

She has to smile when she sees David and Colby through her peephole. David's got three huge cups of coffee and Colby's got a box of the good donuts.

Sugar and caffeine, just the thing. She could almost kiss them.

She's halfway through unlocking the door for them when it hits her.

Don not only never saw her naked...

He never kissed her.


On Monday she hangs a dry cleaning bag containing his washed shirt at the edge of his cubicle

Her fingers linger as she lays a hand on his shoulder in greeting and gratitude.

He puts his hand over hers, gives it a brief squeeze then releases it.

They don't ever acknowledge that night again.

But Megan never forgets.

Emma DeMarais: BlueEyeemmademarais on November 26th, 2007 08:26 pm (UTC)
So I had this thought... (And I tell you more things start that way than I'd care to admit.) I shared this thought with a couple of betas via email so to make things quick and easy I'm just going to paste the initial bunny I sent them.

"A series of disconnected fic called In Time of Need. It would be odd pairings of mostly Don's team being there for each other, usually in terms of sex, in one off situations. The first would be Don/Megan after the explosion in which Megan lost an agent under her command. Comfort!sex for one night follows. It could also involve Cal Sci too like Charlie crawling into bed with Larry for some decidedly nonsexual holding while he cries over his mother's death or Colby helping Amita through post-Primacy nightmares she doesn't want Charlie to know she has.

It would be a series in name and theme only and I'm not even sure about the name. I regretted making Never Tell in three parts when it really is three totally disconnected stories. I normally make the first fic's name the series name, but I don't want people to think this is all one universe. So do I give them sub names? In Times of Need: Explosion? Gah! I hate being so anal sometimes."

Clearly I'm wordy and overly analytical in email too, not just in these Confession posts. ;-)

So here you have the first fic in a series/not series pairings experiment called In Time of Need.

FWIW, I really don't like the title of this installment, but I rejected so many titles that I finally just caved and picked one just to get this published.

I know you're probably tired of hearing this, but yet again I've done a bit of recycling. I wrote Don and Megan gen fic with this scenario - he goes to her place to comfort her after the explosion - in a story called After. Yeah, that was a year and a half and probably about 200 fic ago, but still. I went there twice. Mea culpa. (You know I thought I had written Don/Megan before, but I guess not. One more odd pairing to add to my budding list in Memories!)

So fic should pop up in this Series from time to time as the muse decides she wants to play with this scenario. The Colby/Amita idea seems somewhat appealing, but past that, I'm open. Feel free to suggest pairings I haven't sampled before. I'm always open to new challenges. We saw how well that worked out with Billy/Colby so hey - I'm totally willing to open up myself to inspiration from without as well as within.

Very special thanks to beta melissima for her assistance with this fic.


Emma DeMarais
perhaps some frottage is in order: navi hotsororcula on November 27th, 2007 02:44 am (UTC)
Re: Confession
Colby helping Amita through post-Primacy nightmares she doesn't want Charlie to know she has.

boymommytotwoboymommytotwo on May 26th, 2008 12:50 pm (UTC)
Re: Confession
are there more stories in this series, miss emma? i've read the fic before, but regrettably missed your confession. i love the ideas you've presented so far and know they would be wonderful - as any is, of course, written by you.

Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on May 26th, 2008 05:30 pm (UTC)
Re: Confession
Oops! Sorry about that. I normally go back and put the link to the Series Post in the headers, but I guess I forgot to on this one. Mea culpa. It's up now.

If you're ever looking for information about a series you can look at the last post of the month on any month and it will have links to all of my Series Posts. The In Time of Need Series Post is up there as well or you can use the link I just put in the headers of this one to get to it.

There are two more stories ATM (and they are related to each other) and there are plans for at least two more for the future. Past that, muse only knows...

Thanks for asking about them!
fredbassettfredbassett on November 26th, 2007 08:37 pm (UTC)
*guh* *meep*

Congratulations, no-oe has ever, ever, rendered me non-verbal with het before.

This was just aboslutely beautiful. And coming at the end of a really crappy day, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed this.

Dammit, why can't we all have a Don when we need one?
andi: Don hand to mouthadmiralandrea on November 26th, 2007 08:54 pm (UTC)
Interesting story/series premise. And this one is totally hot. I can really see Don like this - caring and knowing just what his partner needs. Great stuff!
delgaserasca on November 27th, 2007 12:31 am (UTC)
I've read this a couple of times now and I've finally decided on the two things that I like about it. I mean, the first time I read it through, I knew that I liked rather than disliked it, but I couldn't place why. And I'm fairly certain now that it's because you've managed to devise a reason as to why Megan and Don are so co-dependent and warmly intimate in such a comfortable way: because they have this trust between them that extends into the field and into each others lives.

The other thing that I liked about this was the way in which their ministrations are sexual but not explicitly about sex. And it's about what Don can give Megan in terms of his understanding and his patience, as opposed to mutual sexual gratification.

All in all, a wonderful job, darling.
perhaps some frottage is in order: Don h0rsororcula on November 27th, 2007 02:44 am (UTC)
Ohh, this is lovely. So quiet, no dialogue, but you can tell that they understand each other without having to speak. (And OMG I'm finding the thought of them having this secret tryst that they never talk about ridiculously hot. Haha.)

One thing: But it's getting hard to think of anything other then the pleasure he is coaxing out of her.
ladygray99ladygray99 on November 27th, 2007 06:24 pm (UTC)
Cynthia: DM on Don's Knee by and_dark_skies1trackmind on November 27th, 2007 08:23 pm (UTC)
I really liked this. I love that Don was so solicitous. He let her keep her dignity and made sure there was nothing to be embarrassed about in the future.
cpwatcher on December 1st, 2007 05:42 pm (UTC)
Oh so beautifully written and equally carried out by Don, a caring and understanding man. Yeah the sex could have been hard and fast to make Megan forget at that momment, but it wasn't really what she needed. It's so good Don understood that, and that she let him lead the way. Such a great showing of trust between them. Yay!
Jena Bartley: numb3rs - meganjenab on December 2nd, 2007 04:28 pm (UTC)
This is just lovely and I love the flow of it. Comfort sex is one of my kinks and I like how you've done it here.
mercilynnmercilynn on January 31st, 2008 06:58 am (UTC)
So... It's almost 11 o'clock at night after my snow day. I've been reading/writing slash all day and then sororcula throws me into bandom. Without a lifeline. Yeah, bandom? The slash ain't subtextual. It's canon.

I emerged alive and apparently needing het, because as I attempted to find pictures to make the animated icon for "Here, Puppy, Puppy" I came across a picture of Megan sitting on Don's lap. And went "I need Don/Megan fic. Like, NOW!" to sororcula. She pointed me here and yes. Definitely helped in my rare het need... Fantastic fic!
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on January 31st, 2008 07:09 am (UTC)

Just say NO to Bandom!

No Fauxgays!

I don't have much Don/Megan, but I have a bit of het in my Memories if you need more.

I do like this though. It works because it's about being there for each other, not being lovey dovey out of nowhere.

At least you went to the right person. I mean she *runs* the Het comm in the fandom. ;-)

There will be more In Time of Need. I have a Colby/Amita I think might work out and maybe a Charlie/Colby. We'll see.

For now is there anything I can offer you to wipe the bandom from your mind? Please? We've already lost too many good people from the fandom to the great sucking void of My Chemical Romance et all. Panic! indeed. Grr...

Did I ever show you the first part of the sequel to Clean Slate? I can't remember...

Drop me an email if you want something fresh, or go check out the Colby fic at N3 NY since I know you like him.
mercilynn: Now U Did Itmercilynn on January 31st, 2008 07:40 am (UTC)
There will be no losing me to Bandom, I promise. The pretty boys touching other pretty boys will not lure me in. I'm strong, I won't succumb, ;)

And of course I went to her. She's the one that shoved me into Bandom, she can point me towards the Don/Megan :D

*bounces* Charlie/Colby! I'm not a big Amita fan, so that one will most likely have to wait until I'm in the right "mood" for het AND Amita... and I can't believe I have reading moods *g*

I'll go poke around in my "Emma file" and see if you sent me the first part of the sequel - I can't remember either, so I'm thinking you haven't. And I've already devoured ALL the fic at N3 NY *huggles the Billy/Don/Colby somebody was kind enough to write*
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on January 31st, 2008 07:44 am (UTC)
I can has an Emma file? HEE!

It would be called A Hearty Breakfast.

I'm looking forward to the reveal since so far no one's gotten any decent comments to speak of. /grumbles/ (I hate to be petty, but there you are - I am. Hehehe)
mercilynnmercilynn on January 31st, 2008 07:55 am (UTC)
Of course you have a file! Feel privileged! Or something ;)

And in that file, there is no "A Hearty Breakfast", so feel free to send it my way, if you want.

And I can't speak for anyone else but myself, but I don't want to give it away which fic I wrote, so I only commented on mine. Yet, the not knowing drove me insane so I made a pretty chart and tried to figure everyone's out! And I think I have it! :)
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on January 31st, 2008 07:59 am (UTC)
I do! /preens/

I shall send the partial that I have, as befits you as the inspiration for the series. /bows/

I had no problems giving away what I was writing as long as my recipient didn't know. I figure my writing is pretty darn blatant so no way anyone who knows me well won't be able to figure out which is mine.

I haven't read all of them yet, but I commented on a few. /shrugs/ I guess that means they will know it's not me, but I don't really care. It's only about my recipient not knowing. Past that how does one know for sure that I wouldn't put a comment on my own fic to fake people out? /grins/

Fic coming momentarily...
erincrimeshowbuff93 on April 20th, 2008 06:00 pm (UTC)

HOT!!!! I love Don/Megan, but Don/Megan hc is my favorite!

I love this line. It's so pretty.
Her eyes drift closed and although she's not sleepy, there's a sense of peace in the blackness behind her eyes. It's only when he stops that she realizes he'd chased the images away - something she'd failed to do on her own since the explosion.