Log in

No account? Create an account
08 June 2008 @ 12:49 pm
Numb3rs Fic: Therapy  
Posted to numb3rs_het

Title: Therapy
Pairing/Characters: Don/OFC, Megan, David, Colby
Rating: R
Spoilers: Seasons 1 - 3
Summary: What if Don was assigned to a female therapist instead of Bradford?
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ

"Agent Eppes... Don... We've been meeting for five weeks now. Don't you think it's time you trusted me?"

Dr. Sandra Hastings took off her glasses and laid them on top of her mostly empty pad of paper as she gave Don an earnest yet resigned stare.

"I trust you, Doc." Don gave her a placating smile. "You helped David after he got shot and Megan after she got taken hostage. You do good work and I appreciate it."

Sandra leaned forward. "You don't trust me enough to let me in. I can't help you unless you open up to me."

Don stiffened slightly as he sat back in his chair.

"I don't need any help."

"And yet you're here."

"Bureau mandated therapy sessions. Nothing I can do about them." Don shrugged and tried to look blasé.

"You could stop shooting so many suspects," Sandra offered.

Don laughed.

"Now there's an option I hadn't considered. Thanks for the tip." Don rose to leave. "Looks like our time is up again." He grinned and headed for the door as Sandra stood, taking a step towards him.


Don paused, hand on the doorknob, and turned back to Sandra.

Sandra looked at him, her expression pensive. "We have only one more session and I'm resigned to it being a mindless exercise since you won't talk to me except to give me the pat answers you think the Bureau wants to hear." She moved closer, her face softening. "FBI aside I really do want to help you with this because I think I could help you be strong, stay strong." She gingerly laid a hand on Don's arm. "Please. Just give me a chance. Let me in."

Don studied her intently for a moment then nodded. "Gonzalez. 8PM Friday night. The team will be there." He looked at her sternly. "Totally off the clock. No report, no record, no action. Just show up as Sandra, not Dr. Hastings. You hear me?"

Sandra returned his gaze. "I'll be there."


The bar at Gonzalez was loud, boisterous with off duty cops and federal agents all enjoying themselves after a long hard week.

Sandra spotted David first, carrying a pitcher of beer in each hand as he threaded his way towards a table. He spotted her and his face lit up. He cocked his head at her to join them and she intercepted him before he got to his destination.

"Hey, Sandra," he greeted her warmly. "What brings you down here?"

"I heard this was the place to be on a Friday night."

"Damn straight," David exclaimed, showing signs of a slight buzz already. "Come sit with us. Megan will be happy to see you."

They approached a table in a far corner of the bar where she could see Don, Megan and Colby relaxing.

"Sandra!" Megan got up and enveloped Sandra in an overzealous hug, startling her a little. She turned to her co-workers with her arm around Sandra. "I totally owe this woman. I was super messed up and she fixed me. She's some sort of miracle worker, she is."

"Oh, someone's had way too much to drink," Colby said in a low voice, not bothering to hide the grin on his face.

"Look who's talking," David teased.

"Hey, I'm not drunk, I'm just comfortably numb," Colby protested.

"Nice to see you all," Sandra offered in greeting. "Bad case?"

"You could say that," Don answered, a little curtly. "But we're not here to talk about work."

"Hear hear!" Colby said, raising his glass.

"I'll drink to that." David tipped his glass against Colby's and drained it before refilling it from the new pitcher he'd brought.

"Sit, sit!" Megan grabbed a chair from a nearby table, oblivious to the protests of the cops sitting there, and drew it up next to hers for Sandra.

Sandra sat down and almost immediately a beer glass appeared in front of her.

"This round's on me," David said, pouring. "You're our guest tonight, you hear me?"

Sandra gave him an appreciative nod. "Thank you."

Within minutes the table was back to normal conversation with Megan facing off with Colby and David on hockey while trying to draw Sandra towards her side.

Through it all Don just watched, sitting back in his chair drinking, his face unreadable.

"Is he always like that here?" Sandra whispered in Megan's ear during a lull in the debate.

"No, sometimes he's actually in a bad mood," Megan whispered back with a tipsy giggle.

Sandra frowned and Don gave her a look, oblique but almost challenging.

"I see..."


Since she was technically off duty Sandra let herself relax as well, drinking along with the team and enjoying their retelling of stories they'd obviously enjoyed sharing before if their interrupting each other was any indication.

Don tossed in a few lines here and there, but for the most part let his team tell the stories.

He kept glancing over at her in what Sandra found to be an almost annoyingly enigmatic way. She prided herself on her ability to read people as a psychologist, but Don was proving to be too elusive for her.

When Megan excused herself to take a phone call and Colby and David headed up to the bar to order shots, Don moved his chair a bit closer and leaned in to talk to her.

"Enjoying yourself, Doc?"

"I am," she said. "And it's not Doc tonight, remember?"

"I remember." Don stared at her and she realized that she had no idea how much he'd been drinking, but guessed it was far less than the rest of the team given the clarity she saw. "So are we really one hundred percent off the clock here?" His voice was low and inviting and it finally hit Sandra what had been behind the veil of Don's glances all night long: lust.

"I'm just Sandra tonight, as promised."

"Good," he said, moving to speak directly in her ear. "It's Sandra I wanted to see."

Sandra's breath caught as she felt Don's hand on her knee, his thumb sweeping briefly beneath the hem of her skirt to caress her thigh.

Don moved away just as Colby and David returned.

"You sure you guys don't want a shot?"

"No, man. I'm good," Don responded, waving them off.

"Sandra?" David asked.

Sandra tried to talk and had to clear her throat to get the words out. "Uh, no. Thanks, though. I'll be right back." She gestured towards the bathrooms and quickly took her leave.

Once inside she stared at herself in the mirror.

She'd been in complete denial that she'd come here for anything more than to supposedly help Don.

She knew what had been simmering between them in all those sessions yet chose to ignore it. Now she couldn't ignore it. Don had made his intentions perfectly clear.

Now she just had to own up to her own.

As she headed back to the table David was returning with two more shots.

"I changed my mind," she told him spontaneously. "I'll take a shot."

David grinned widely and handed her one. "All right! Here you go!"

She glanced at Don across the table whose eyes were wrinkling up as a smile snuck its way on to his face.

She gave him a little nod and threw back the shot.


During a surprisingly heated debate over Saturday morning cartoon characters Don excused himself and walked off towards the back of the bar.

Sandra watched him go, thoughts swirling through her head mixing with the aftereffects of the shot to make her a bit dizzy.

"He has a fine ass doesn't he?" Megan whispered conspiratorially in her ear.

"I wasn't..." Sandra stammered, flushing. "I was just wondering..." She shook her head. "Never mind."

"If he wasn't my partner, I'd consider it." Megan shrugged, her shoulders loosened by inebriation. "I just wouldn't expect it to last. But while it did?" A Cheshire cat grin erupted on her face. "It'd be a hell of a ride."

Sandra smiled as politely as she could and gestured towards the bar. "I'm going to go get another drink."

She heard Colby drawing Megan back into the argument about Underdog and slipped through the crowd to an empty spot at the bar. As she waited for the bartender to get to her, her eyes wandered over to the hallway.

Don was standing there, mostly obscured by shadows, staring right at her.

As she held his gaze, more out of shock than anything, he cocked his head towards the hallway then disappeared into the darkness of the passageway.

She'd been summoned. She had to go.

She followed as if hypnotized, not even considering alternatives.

Save the single weak bulbs over the doors to the men's and ladies' rooms the hallway was unlit and she couldn't see the end of it, couldn't see Don.

The noise from the TVs and voices in the bar dulled her sense of hearing and she put out her hands, brushing her fingertips against both walls as she walked in an attempt to ground herself in the amorphous blackness past the restrooms.

The back door opened abruptly, bringing with it a rush of cold air and the glare of streetlights from the alley. A shiver ran through her and she put up a hand to shield her eyes as they attempted to adjust.

A man walked in carrying an empty trash bin and disappeared into an unmarked door right by the exit, not even looking her way.

Back in blackness, what little night vision she'd acquired was gone and she fumbled forward, relying more on touch than sight now.


Don's disembodied voice came from nearby, but she couldn't tell where.


She gasped as a strong hand clamped onto her wrist. She felt herself tugged to the side, into a room, where the door shut behind her with a hollow bang.

With a metallic click, a dim light bulb went on in the low ceiling above her. The chain led down to Don's hand and he let her see him just long enough to show her the same enigmatic smile that had gotten under her skin all night before the light clicked off again.

Her heart rate quickened as she sensed him nearing in the pitch-black void, stepping backwards until her back hit the wall behind her.

"Do you want to know..." His voice was a dangerous rumble. "Know what I do to deal with death on the job?"

"Yes," she answered breathlessly. She could feel him hovering over her, his body heat palpable just above her own flushed skin.

"I connect," he murmured in her ear, his lips barely grazing it as he brushed his hips against hers. "With other human beings. I mean..." He let his lips trail down the side of her neck, making her shiver. "I'm sure you shrinks have textbooks filled with studies on the restorative power of life affirming sex."

"Well, chapters perhaps," she stammered.

"So what about you, Sandra?" he asked, letting his fingers come to rest on her hips as he kept the contact between their bodies tantalizingly minimal. "Do you crave a human connection?"

She tipped her head up and sensed Don bringing his mouth to hover over hers, his warm exhalations exposing his path up from her neck. Sharing his breath was a heady experience and she fought to maintain even a tiny bit of composure.

"What if I do?" she asked, surprising herself with her own boldness.

"I'm offering," he said simply. He brought their lips close enough to touch so that when he spoke she felt the feather light touch of them. "Do you want it?"

His hands shifted behind her, subtly cupping her ass as he brought their bodies into full contact.

So the rumors of the seductive powers of Don Eppes weren't exaggerated. The desire welled up in her, the craving, and she knew this was the moment to step back, to let logic and common sense prevail.

"Yes," she breathed.

There was a split second where nothing changed and then Don was everywhere.

His hands roamed over her body, slipped under her clothes – friction forming heat, driving desire. His mouth devoured and she sank blissfully into his forceful thorough kisses, feeling every sensation brought into sharp relief.

She leaned her head back against the wall as his mouth trailed down her neck, down her chest – raising sightless eyes heavenward – down into her cleavage, clever hands unbuttoning her blouse as steamy exhalations warmed her skin.

Her hands scrabbled against his back, tugging his shirt out of his pants so she could scrape her nails over the broad expanse of skin beneath.

As still as Don had been all evening, as restrained as he'd been in every session, he held nothing back now.

Alcohol buzzed in her head; her body thrummed with sensation.

Don made little murmurs of encouragement and admiration against her flesh, into the crook of her neck, behind her ear. His fingers slipped into hidden places and she gasped aloud – the sound reverberating in the tiny room despite the muted din of the bar on the other side of the door.

She clutched him tight, tensing as talented fingers drove the last logical thought from her head. Working on raw animal passion all that was left was anticipation.

Don pulled away abruptly and chill air from the unheated room rushed over her skin in the wake of their fevered activity, making her shiver.

Impatient, she barely listened to the sounds of Don's movements, only perking back up as work calloused hands slipped under her skirt and gently tugged her panties down and off.

She welcomed him back, reaching out to him with greedy hands, encircling him with arms around his neck and a leg wrapped around him in invitation.

He slipped easily between her legs, pressing her into the wall as he lifted her up.

The sensation of him slipping inside her made them both shudder with overwhelming pleasure, pausing as they panted into each other's necks.

Don set the force and passion of their joining, but Sandra met him stroke for stroke, accepting his power and giving her own in return.

He inspired a sort of wild abandon in her and she turned herself over to the recklessness of the sex, the blatant physicality - no need for labels, preconceptions or even emotion. He wanted her and she wanted him. That was all mattered.

She wrapped both legs around him as he lifted her higher, driving into her as they both began to lose control.

Her nails dug into his back as she stiffened, shuddering her way through her release, feeling him falter then fall still once he'd reached completion as well.

"This is what I do," Don murmured in her ear as she struggled to catch her breath. "This is my kind of therapy. This is what helps."

Sandra pulled him down for a languid kiss.

"I understand..."


Don tapped on Sandra's slightly ajar office door just before her assistant opened it.

"Don't forget to schedule the client we discussed for two hours next Thursday, not one!" Sandra called out, going through papers as she sat on the corner of her desk.

"Got it!" the assistant called back as she exited. "Hi, Agent Eppes!"

He gave her a smile and a nod in return and entered, leaving the door ajar behind him.

"I got your message," he started cautiously. "You canceled our last session?"

"Yes, I did." Her voice was businesslike, but not unkind. She fished out a folder from the piles on her desk and handed it to him. "I didn't need the full number of sessions to sign off on your mandated term of therapy. I signed off on your forms last Friday, but I hadn't gotten a chance to send you your copies yet."

"Last Friday..." Don said nodding. "So as of that point Friday afternoon..."

"I was no longer your therapist," Sandra finished for him. "And I have no plans to be in the future. I've noted your file so that if you're flagged again you'll be sent to a male therapist instead. I have a feeling they might better understand your needs."

Don shook his head in confusion. "But you wanted me to open up to you, to let you in so you could help me... That's what you said when I was here last."

Sandra plucked a business card from the holder on her desk, wrote something on the back of it and walked over to Don, a gentle smile blossoming as her hips swayed with each step.

"I do want all that... I do want to help... If..." she trailed the edge of the business card down his chest, "you'll let me." She tucked the card into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket. "My home address and phone number are on the back. Call me..."

"For a session?" Don said, the corner of his lips curling up at the ends as his eyes crinkled.

"For a session," Sandra agreed, her sly smile a mirror of Don's. "After all, you seem to respond better to a more," she moved in close, her hands playing at the lapels of his suit, "hands on approach."

Don brought up a hand to brush away a strand of hair from Sandra's face. "So I get to lay on your couch and tell you about my dysfunctional childhood?" he teased.

"I wasn't thinking of my couch exactly," she tossed back playfully, "and I'm fairly sure your childhood was far from dysfunctional. But if you feel like talking, I plan on being there to listen when you're ready."

Don nodded, still barely suppressing a smirk. "I'll hold you to that, Dr. Hastings."

"I hope so, Agent Eppes." She walked him towards the door and waited as he started to head out. "Gonzalez, Friday night?" she asked.

"Saturday night, your place."

"Sounds good to me. I'll bring the Freud, you bring the neuroses," she joked.

"How about a nice bottle of wine and a side of angst?" Don offered.

"In vino veritas?"

"Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow..."

Sandra interrupted him. "Eight and don't be late. What I'm cooking for dinner won't wait."

Don glanced over to make sure Sandra's assistant wasn't able to overhear then turned back to Sandra, his eyes raking over her slow and purposeful.

"Then maybe you should plan to make something else," he told her. "I'm planning on being hungry..."

He backed away towards the elevators and she followed him part way, watching him get in.

"You know," she called out as they were closing. "I'm having Chinese for dinner tonight and you know what they say about that..."

The last thing she heard before the elevator doors closed was Don's laugh - hearty and relaxed, the laugh of a man without a care in the world...

Emma DeMarais: BlueEyeemmademarais on June 8th, 2008 07:52 pm (UTC)
Another ancient fic purged as a result of ficfinishing!

I really need to stop writing Don/OFC fic. (I can't stop Don/OMC because DIEGO!) This one was from October of 2006 and I was so not into it I even delayed publishing it after finishing it in March of this year. Gah.

So I'm forcing myself to publish it now figuring most people won't read it, but at least it will be off my list of finished fic to get published.

The sole challenge of this fic, and it was a weak one, was to write something hot that was only R rated, not NC17. As usual, my muse deserted me just as the porn was about to begin. Argh. So it sat for ages until I had a breakthrough during the March ficfinishing round and finally managed to get it done. It's still not as hot as I'd like, but then I almost never seem to find my own sex scenes hot. (Though even I admit Clean Slate is pretty damn steamy!)

Okay, so maybe semi-public sex is a fun kink and I wanted that challenge too. /guilty grin/ I'm sure there's plenty of janitor's closet sex fic out there, but I had to take my turn at it, didn't I? Hehehe

ETA: I forgot to say I originally started writing this for asemic's Get Don Eppes Laid challenge, but I'm so far past overdue on that it's beyond pathetic. /hangs head/

Very special thanks to betas melissima and iolsai and to first readers fredbassett and byrons_brain for their assistance with this fic.


Emma DeMarais

Edited at 2008-06-08 07:59 pm (UTC)
iolsaiiolsai on June 8th, 2008 08:06 pm (UTC)
Re: Confession
Yay for finally posting it.

It's been so long I'll just have to go reread it now...
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on June 8th, 2008 08:07 pm (UTC)
Re: Confession
Definite yay.

I did another polish pass so you might find this version better.

Ma Yumi: Don5ym4yum1 on November 22nd, 2012 10:19 pm (UTC)
Re: Confession
So the rumors of the seductive powers of Don Eppes weren't exaggerated. The desire welled up in her, the craving, and she knew this was the moment to step back, to let logic and common sense prevail. "Yes," she breathed.

Yes!!!!!! and Yes!!

But... How do you expect me to like MY therapy after that?????????

xxoo Mari
boymommytotwo: don smileyboymommytotwo on June 8th, 2008 11:03 pm (UTC)
i don't know...
i think sometimes the slash is so good around here, we forget about some good old-fashioned het. i really liked this... left a little to the imagination, and gave enough yummy details to assist with hotness.

i wondered if she really did sign off on his papers the preceeding friday, or was that to cover her ass?

Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on June 9th, 2008 02:54 am (UTC)
Re: i don't know...
Yeah, slashy goodness abounds, but I love my gen and I do throw in some het from time to time.

She did do the paperwork before going to Gonzalez because consciously she knew for a fact she wasn't going to make any real progress with Don in their final session and she was sure he was fit for duty. Unconsciously she knew she didn't want to get in trouble if she gave into her desires and slept with a patient. Hehehe

Thanks for reading and commenting, as always. I may not be able to respond to all your comments but I do really appreciate them.
andi: Don Captain Hotshotadmiralandrea on June 9th, 2008 07:16 am (UTC)
Mm. That was so hot! I love the slash, but with Don, I'm quite happy to read steamy het as well and this definitely fulfilled that criteria.
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on June 9th, 2008 08:26 am (UTC)
Thanks! I'm not anti-het at all, but there's a dearth of good het writers on LJ supposedly, which explains why I haven't read much het I really enjoy. I just wish there was a woman on the show I could have rewritten this for, but it was kind of already too late and I'd committed to a female shrink for the challenge. Ah well, better porning next time. ;-)
perhaps some frottage is in order: [numb3rs] Don/Terry black and whitesororcula on June 9th, 2008 08:38 am (UTC)
Very nice! I'm glad to see this finally posted. :-)

Save the single weak bulbs over the doors to the men's and ladies' rooms the hallway was unlit and she couldn't see the end of it, couldn't see Don.

The noise from the TVs and voices in the bar dulled her sense of hearing and she put out her hands, brushing her fingertips against both walls as she walked in an attempt to ground herself in the amorphous blackness past the restrooms.

I really love the atmosphere you created in this section. It's so clear I could see it.

"Well, chapters perhaps," she stammered.

And that made me laugh. :-)

One thing: Don moved away just as Colby and Don returned. Second "Don" should be "David."
Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on June 9th, 2008 08:55 am (UTC)
Thanks for the keen eye! It's fixed now. Merci.

I did like that bit with the hallway so I'm glad you liked it too.

And yes, that's supposed to be a little burst of unexpected humor there. Hehehe

I've been waiting all day hoping you'd see this fic posted on your comm so thanks for commenting before bed so I could go to sleep happy. :-)
(Anonymous) on June 9th, 2008 11:12 am (UTC)
Hey, I thought it was hot.

Emma DeMaraisemmademarais on June 9th, 2008 04:55 pm (UTC)
Thank you! Glad to hear it!