Disclaimer: Numb3rs is not mine.

A/N: I came *this* close to naming this fic "The First Cut Is The Deepest", partly because I'm on a Cat Stevens kick, and partly because I think my cuckoo muse is high on something but good sense saved that one! Enjoy the rest of the muse's exploits. Oh and in case I don't manage to write anything else this week: Merry Christmas everyone, and hope you all have a great holiday season and New Year.

Spoilers for Frienemies... I suppose. Can this even quantify as a spoiler, forgetting the shock value alone?

The First Cut

"Hey," Don called out to his brother as he entered the house before by-passing him and heading straight for the kitchen.

He made it all the way to the door, right hand coming up to brush the polished wood, before his mind kicked in and his feet backtracked his steps until he was face-to-face with the man sorting the mail on the foyer table, who he'd at first assumed was his brother.

This guy couldn't be his brother... could it?

"Charlie?"

"What?" came the slightly distracted murmur.

"Is that really you?"

That caught Charlie's attention and brought his head up to look his brother in the eyes. The two would have continued standing there staring at each other, one in incredulity and the other in irritation, had Alan not descended from the stairs just then and yanking the mail out of Charlie's hand, said:

"Yes, yes, it's really him. He knew the answer to a six digit multiplication so it's either your brother, or a genius imposter in which case, we really seem to attract the highly intelligent bit of the population, don't we?"

Charlie jerked back as Don's hand came up to poke his head. "Hey!" he protested, smacking the hand away.

"Charlie, what the hell happened to your hair?" Don finally asked.

His brother ran his fingers through his hair – or what was left of it – in a nervous gesture. "Don't be such a drama queen, it's a just a bit shorter, that's all."

Don snorted, recovering his composure and gearing up to mess with his little brother. "'A bit shorter'? Charlie, have you looked in a mirror?"

"Okay, so the hair-dresser got a bit carried away with the scissors... It was an accident!"

"You sure he's not planning on taking your curls and selling them on eBay or something?" Don's voice took on a booming quality: "'Behold, the locks of Professor Charles Eppes, mathematician, consultant and relationship advisor extraordinaire!'"

Charlie shot a glare to his father who'd began to chuckle even as he sat in the arm-chair reading the paper. Turning to his brother, he replied: "Knock it off. And I'm not an extraordinaire at relationships."

"Kinda with you there buddy, wait till everyone sees your new 'do. What will happen to the curls fan club then?"

"I do not have a fan club for my hair!"

"That's not what those anonymous love letters a few years ago suggested, Chuck," Don pointed out with a raise of his eyebrow as he made his way back to his original destination, the kitchen.

"Maybe I should invest in a wig until my hair grows back," Charlie murmured softly, careful that his brother was out his ear-shot even if Alan wasn't. "I'm never going to get it cut again."

"Considering the trouble your mother and I went through to get your hair cut when you were a kid, I'm surprised to find myself agreeing with you," Alan said. "Maybe it is better you stay away from barbers. Less drama and angst all around."

"Has Amita seen you, by the way?" Don asked as he came back from the kitchen, a glass of ice cold water in his hands.

"She has, she was the first one. And," Charlie added with a triumphant tone as he raised his finger to make his point, "she likes it."

"Love is blind," Don replied, taking a seat on the couch next to his father and tilting his head back. All was silent for a few moments before a short bark of laughter broke from Don.

"Wha-at?" Charlie asked, somewhat annoyed, wondering what his brother would ask next.

"You know, one thing I never figured?"

"What's that?" Alan asked, curious.

"That there'd come a day when Charlie would have shorter hair than me. I mean seriously, isn't there something wrong with that image?"

Khatum