Author's Note: In the previous chapter, Don had only one drink over two hours which at his body weight would not put him over the blood-alcohol limit. I was going to revisit that in this chapter, but it was awkward and I cut it out. Please accept as a given that within the universe of my light and fluffy fic, all of the characters are far too responsible to drive under the influence.

Chapter 9

"So, do we have a deal?" Terry asked with a note of triumphant glee.

Charlie tilted his head and fixed her with a considering gaze. "You know, Terry, it's not often people mistake me for stupid."

Terry held his gaze steadily for a long moment.

Then she suddenly slumped back in her chair. "I figured it was worth a shot," she shrugged.

"His knee?" Charlie sputtered indignantly. "It's not a bullet wound. Believe me, I've seen him like this before, okay? Do you have any idea how many sports injuries he's had over the years? But he still gets mad anytime his 'work through the pain' philosophy doesn't solve everything. Which, by the way, with a knee injury is an especially bad plan."

Terry smirked and rolled her eyes in agreement.

Charlie continued. "I don't have to know all the details of how he got hurt to know the fact he's actually taking care of an injury for a change means some doctor somewhere called him an idiot. Probably loudly. And repeatedly."

Terry laughed. Her relaxed, happy mood had returned. Charlie recognized that it hadn't been an act. She'd simply managed to mask her tipsiness for a few minutes while she tried to intimidate him.

No longer on the hot seat, Charlie allowed some anxiousness to show as he toyed with the edge of the napkin under his water glass and asked, "Does… does he need surgery?"

Terry's expression grew equally serious and she shook her head. "I don't think so. He hasn't been sidelined from field work, so it can't be anything serious."

After a moment, her smile returned as she asked, "I don't suppose that little piece of information was worth…" She gave up after one look at Charlie's expression. "Yeah, okay," she sighed.

"Although," Charlie commented as he tapped the table, "there is something I've been wanting to know."

"Yeah?" She leaned forward eagerly. "What?"

"What's the end game? What's Don looking to get out of the basketball game?"

Terry shot him a quizzical look. "He wants to win. So do I. So does everybody."

"Yeah," Charlie nodded. "But it feels like there's more going on. The day Don told Alex he wanted me on the team, Alex called me a 'math geek' and Don just let it slide. But he told you about Alex's 'not tall' comment at the first opportunity. And today, Alex addressed Don when he first walked into the gym and Don didn't respond at all. Instead, you jumped in."

When Terry opened her mouth to reply, Charlie held up his hand and finished, "Okay, maybe some of that is personality, but it seems to me that lately Don's been avoiding arguments while you've been starting them. Why?"

Terry stared at him for a long time. Instead of answering the question, she challenged, "Let's say there was an ulterior motive and I discussed it with you. Would you tell me what Don said about me?"

Charlie hesitated. The truth was, he wasn't sure. Revealing Don's remark that she was a 'decent' shooter seemed like such a small thing. And the chance to solve this little mystery was tempting.

Terry leaned back in her chair. "Guess we'll never know," she murmured as she looked at a point just over Charlie's right shoulder.

He turned to see Don returning to the table. "Are we ready?" Don asked as he signaled the waitress for the check.

Charlie nodded. It was getting late and he still had some work to do in preparation for his classes the next day. He mentally ran through a to-do list as he watched Don and Terry engage in a brief battle of wills that ended when Don grumbled, "Fine. You know what? Don't drink the water."

The waitress brought the check to Charlie, but Don swiftly reached over and picked it up.

Charlie pulled out his wallet. "Hey, let me…"

Don waved him off with a friendly smile. "I got it."

As they filed out toward the exit, Don glanced back over his shoulder and confided to Charlie with a teasing grin, "And don't worry, I gave your new friend a healthy sized tip."

"Oh. Well, good. The service was excellent," Charlie noted.

Don stopped so suddenly that Charlie almost ran into him. "Charlie!" he ground out in exasperation. Terry covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Charlie went back over the exchange, trying to figure out what he'd said. He turned to Terry for help, who prompted, "The waitress. She liked you."

Charlie was surprised. Thinking back, she had been very attentive and friendly all evening, but that didn't prove anything. "She did?"

Don, after glancing over to make sure the waitress wasn't close enough to overhear, asked him, "Didn't you notice? You made that joke about tangent planes and she laughed."

"So?" Charlie shrugged.

"She was the only one that laughed," Don reminded him.

"And she kind of tossed her hair around as she laughed," Terry added with an imitation of the move.

"So?" he asked, still not seeing it.

"So, it wasn't funny, Charlie!" Don exclaimed.

"Are you sure? Because that joke kills at math conferences."

Don rolled his eyes and resumed walking toward the door. "Remind me to never go to one of those things."

Charlie looked back and spotted the waitress. When she noticed him watching her, her face lit up in a smile and she leaned over the bar, displaying an impressive amount of cleavage.

"How do I miss these things?" he pondered aloud.

Terry laughed and dragged him toward the door. "Maybe next time, champ."