Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional, and should not be associated with any other person- real or imagined.

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Don stood up and cracked his back. He checked his watch, noted the time, and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. Halfway to the elevator, his boss' secretary came running down an aisle and flagged him down. Moaning silently because her presence could only mean an unwanted delay, he waited while she approached.

"Agent Eppes, Merrick wanted me to give you this form. He says you forget to take care of it last week, so he had me set up an appointment for you at the clinic for five-thirty today."

Don took the papers and mentally slapped himself in the head. It was time for his yearly eye exam and he had forgotten to take it the week before; if he wanted to be out in the field, he'd need to get it done. But it was Friday and the fun-fair for the Detention Dawgs started at six o'clock. Don figured the time in his mind; if the exam went quickly, he still wouldn't make it till seven-thirty at the earliest. Sighing, he pulled out his phone and called Dita, explaining his delay.

"It's fine, Don, really-one of the boys can man the booth till you can come."

Thanking the secretary, Don shut his phone. He decided to go to the clinic right away- maybe they would be able to see him early.

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The Dawgs and Dita stared out at the main floor of the gym. Up and down the walls and middle aisles, hundreds of people walked from one booth to the next, excited kids and bored parents handing over solid money in exchange for corny games of chance that usually ended with flimsy rewards of miniature stuffed toys, key chains, candy, oversized plastic novelties, and the occasional t-shirt. Each booth had a bright banner hanging over it proudly declaring the name of the club or sports team participating, an eclectic collection of bright balloons attached at either end. Loud music played from various advantageous points throughout the crowded room, its mixture with the laughter coming from customers and the overzealous but amateur selling pitches of makeshift barkers creating a heavy din that was almost impossible for the most forceful voice to penetrate; many people resorted to lip-reading and gestures in order to communicate.

Ben, dark hair and pale white skin in stark contrast with each other, was sitting on the bench at the top of the dunking booth, waiting for a customer to send him into the water below his feet. It hadn't been hard to talk him into taking the position, as earlier in the week Don had brought Larry by the dunking booth and asked him if it was possible for him to come up with a way to warm the water. It had taken the scientist several days, but by Thursday he had impressed five teenage boys, one secretary, and one very-relieved agent with a contraption that lay hidden against a corner of the tank and kept the water at a very warm and comfortable temperature. Thus, the fear of the effects the cold water would have on their nether regions had been quickly put to rest and the Detention Dawgs had readily agreed to be targets when Don phoned he'd be late, understanding their mentor's delay.

"Don't make no difference, anyhow," Miguel told his friends. "Nobody comin' over this way."

He was correct. They're corner was as brightly lit up as the rest of the gym and as carefully decorated- a broad banner declaring the Future Law Enforcers of America hanging high above the dunking booth- but they had too many disadvantages in trying to entice customers. Other than their location off the main strips, the boys didn't have any other friends, so no one was really interested in dunking any of them. They hadn't thought to buy prizes, so the few people who'd inquired about their booth had quickly left, easy customers for the Spanish Club nearby with its fishing game; each customer who swung out a fishing line over a hanging sheet always pulled up some kind of prize, leaving satisfied no matter how small or cheap it was.

And worst of all, none of the Dawgs' family members had been able to make it- all of them either having to work or babysit too many children to reasonably control at the fair, leaving the boys without even that little show of support.

Things definitely looked bleak.

Dita tried to reassure them. "Come on- go out there and talk up some business. I bet we'd get a lot of people here if we could just offer the right bait."

"We don't have anything to offer," Jeff stated matter-of-factly.

"Don't say that," Dita chided him. She looked around for Don. Though the boys had understood the reason for him coming late, she was certain that a good percentage of their disappointment was because of it. Having had so many people bail on them, Dita was afraid they thought Don had done that to them, too. She was sure he hadn't but didn't know how to express that faith to the boys. Finally, just as Dita was starting to have her own doubts, Don appeared at the far end of the gym, weaving uneasily between people.

Dita frowned- is he drunk? No, not possible, but still…Don seemed to be walking into people every few feet, apologizing before allowing them to push him in the right direction to the back of the gym. When he finally managed to reach the dunking booth, Don started talking over Dita's right shoulder; his speech was clear, so she just assumed he was tired.

"I am really sorry- you would not believe the traffic."

The Dawgs gathered around him, Ben climbing out of the dunking booth and joining the rest of his group. Dita smiled- she had been correct in her assessment; the boys were suddenly talking at lightning speed, describing the fair as if it was the best time they'd had their entire lives.

"Two cheerleaders came right by us- think they's checkin' us over."

"Almost had two customers- think they got scared thinkin' bout Ben getting' all wet- man just don't look good in shorts."

"Notice the lame banner the football team has- not half as big as the one we have."

And on and on.

Don grinned, commenting on each statement before he got around to asking them how many customers they'd had. The boys lowered their heads and put their hands in their pockets. "Uh, none really," Miguel admitted.

"Oh," Don said to the air.

"Hey," Jeff asked, staring at Don's wide-eyed look and lack of focus. "What's wrong with you?"

Don ran a hand over his brow. "Eye-drops. Think the nurse was in a hurry and overdid it- everything's a blur."

"Oh," Dita said. That explained his odd traverse through the gym.

"Nothing to worry about- they'll wear off before the night is through." Don rubbed his hands together. "Now, I think its time for me to take my shift in the tank." Don nodded in its general direction.

"Ya don't hafta if ya don't wanta," Joey told him, "Water's warm, so we don't mind."

"Prob'bly won't git any customers anyway," Adam stated.

"By the time Don gets suited up, it'll almost be time for the dance," Dita told the boys. "Why don't you let us man the booth and you boys go have some fun."

Don and Dita were surprised when the boys stared at their feet. "What's the matter?" Don asked, "You're not afraid of a few girls are you?"

"No."

"No way."

"We playas, too, man."

Don grinned. "So, what's the problem?"

The Dawgs all looked at Miguel, who faced Don and bravely admitted, "What it is- ten dollas each- dun have enough for all of us. And if we can't all go…"

Don nodded in approval. The boys impressed him more and more each time he was with them. Pulling out his wallet, Don tried to hand them fifty dollars but couldn't make out the bills. Dita reached over and took it from his hand, dolling out the correct amount to Miguel before folding it back up and slowly sliding it into Don's back pocket, letting her hand stay inside moments longer than necessary.

Don was surprised to find that he didn't really mind.

Miguel hesitated before putting the money in his own pocket. "We don't like charity," he said.

"Not charity- you had money left from the candy sale. I was saving it to be used by the club, just didn't know how until just this moment." Accepting Don's explanation, Miguel readily put the money away.

"Okay, now that that's settled," Dita said, "You better get suited up, Don- uh, I assume you're wearing it under your clothes?"

Don embarrassingly admitted, "No, in my rush to get here I forgot to bring it." Hearing the disappointed mutters of the Dawgs, he asked, "Couldn't I borrow one from you guys?"

"Uh," Jeff said rolling his eyes, "you're F.B.I, and you haven't happened to notice in all this time we're a little bit skinnier than you?"

"Oh, yeah," Don put a hand behind his head, "guess I couldn't squeeze in"-

"If it was me," Joey interrupted, "man, I wouldn't risk squeezing any of me into anything- don't know what it might do to ya. Don't wanta ruin your chances of havin' kids."

Don and Dita laughed. He told the boys, "Okay, I guess it'd be better if I could find something else to wear."

Dita asked, "Hey, are you wearing boxers?" At Don's embarrassed expression, she quickly explained, "I mean, if they're heavy enough- maybe you could just wear them. Don't think anyone would really notice the difference between boxers and a swimsuit."

"Well," Don thought about it, "I guess I could- only I'd need to safety pin them in front. And I definitely need to know if they're see-through before dropping in the tank. Don't want to be flashing people, you know- not exactly the kind of behavior a mentor or law enforcement officer should be doing."

Dita and the Dawgs nodded. "We'll check and make sure. Come on." Dita took Don's hand and led him into the boys' locker room. The Dawgs followed behind. When Don stopped next to a bench and began to get undressed, the boys laughed at Dita when she stood watching and didn't make any effort to go. "Hey, Ms. Secretary, do ya think maybe the man needs some privacy?"

"Oh, sorry," Dita said and turned to leave, stopping at the exit just long enough to watch the emergence of Don's chest as he took off his top. Oh, yeah- am I ever sorry, she thought as she finally exited just as Don started to undo his pants, regretting that she could not see more. She waited impatiently outside the locker room for ten minutes before she was called back inside. When she entered, she saw that Don was standing next to the bench again, only this time he was completely soaked and wearing only his boxers. Dita suddenly felt warm all over.

"Can't see a thing," Jeff declared.

Dita carefully scrutinized Don's boxers-just for the sake of our team-and noted that Jeff was correct: they had the appearance of a swimsuit. It was difficult, but she resisted checking out the rest of Don, knowing she'd pass out from overstimulation if he looked as good wet as he had with just his shirt off. She handed Don a safety pin and turned away while he pinned the front opening.

When he finished, Dita declared, "Okay, let's get this show on the road."

And what a show it was going to be.