Gibberings: My first non-drabble Numb3rs fic! I love this show, thanks to GreenLeo. Stef, you are awesome! -fist bump-
Setting: Season 2ish, no real spoilers
Major thanks to Mo for betaing and making such awesome suggestions! ^_^
Amita walked into the garage and her eyes widened. The chalkboards were replaced by a huge canvas, the floors were protected by plastic and everything was covered in colors—including the mathematician in his waterproof poncho.
"Charlie…what are you doing?"
He turned, giving her what Larry dubbed his adolescent grin.
"Every year Cal Sci goes up against Libra University…"
"The arts school?"
"Yeah, it's a charity thing. They do our math…"
"And you do the art," she concluded, "Interesting."
"And every year is a draw."
"How can you draw?"
"Well their equations are wrong and Cal Sci's art just…sucks."
Amita laughed, shaking her head.
"So this year the dean asked Larry and I to do it," Charlie explained.
"Thus the balloons?" She waved her hand to the canvas, covered in balloons and darts. Most of the balloons were in tact, but a few had been popped. Below these were trails of color. "They are filled with paint?"
"This was something they did back in the seventies," Charlie replied, "I read that art isn't just about the ends… but you can get points for technique too." He threw a dart, popping a yellow one. Paint exploded out of it, flowing down the canvas.
"This is art?"
He laughed, "I don't know, but it's fun." She smiled at him, picking up a dart and tossing it herself, missing the mark. "Here try throwing it like this…" Charlie stepped forward… right into a puddle of paint. His feet slipped out from under him, and he went down hard splashing into the green paint. Amita covered her mouth, trying to stifle the instant laugh.
"Are you ok?" she chuckled.
"Yeah," he huffed, "Help me up?" She took his hand and pulled, but like the floor and everything else around them his fingers were slick with paint. Amita cried out, landing on the floor beside the mathematician. Now it was Charlie's turn to laugh.
"You think that's funny?" she asked, a dangerous look coming in her eyes. She flicked her fingers at him, showering him in red paint.
"Hey!" He pulled back, retaliating with the green collecting beside him. She returned with yellow. Laughter rang in the garage as the paint flew back and forth.
"Ow." Charlie suddenly pulled back, covering his eyes with his arm.
"Did it go in your eye?" Amita asked, all play completely gone.
"Yeah," he answered, grimacing.
"We'll have to get it washed out." She leaned across him, touching his cheek to get a better look. Her face so close to his she felt the warmth of his breath. She looked up into his good eye, caught in something there she couldn't define. "We need to get it washed out," her words were slow, distracted.
"You said that," he replied, a whisper. She leaned in close, her lips pressing against his.
The door opened and Amita instantly pulled away.
"Working hard?" Don asked from the door, eyebrow quirked.
"We're working on a project for Cal Sci," Charlie explained, pressing his hand into his eye. Amita caught his hand and pulled it away.
"Until Charlie got some paint in his eye," she explained, standing and pulled him up with her. She steered the mathematician toward the kitchen. Amita glanced at her watch and cringed.
"You need to get going?" he asked.
"I have a meeting with my thesis adviser, and I need to change before I get there," she replied.
"You go, I'll be fine," Charlie said, heading for the sink.
"Are you sure?" Amita asked. She grabbed her bag off the chair. Don stepped up then, hooking a hand around his brother's neck.
"Don't worry I'll take care of him," Don said, turning on the water. "Next time try painting with a brush huh Chuck?" Charlie's attempt to glare was greatly thwarted by his having only one open eye.
"I should go then," Amita said, turning to go.
"Hey Amita," Charlie's voice caught her at the door, "Do you…uh…wanna get some dinner tomorrow night."
She smiled softly. "Color me there."