Disclaimer: I'm currently in the process of acquiring the rights to the tv-show Numb3rs and all its contents. In fact, I've have sent the e-mail already in which I politely ask for full ownership and await an answer any moment. When it's mine, I'll let you know. In the meantime, I can assure you it is not.

Game night

Alan had retreated to the kitchen. He knew both his sons quite well and over the years he had developed a sixth sense for picking up certain signals. He would know when one of them was bothered by something, when someone was worried or stressed and even when one of them knew something Alan didn't know, yet. But this signal clearly told him something else. An argument was going to come up which both brothers wouldn't be able to drop. Usually their stubbornness helped them focus on their jobs, making each of them very successful. But it was also a trait that could lead to some pretty hefty discussions, like now. Not wanting to be in the middle of something Alan sought the safety of the room next door.

But now, sitting at the kitchen table Alan could still hear every word from their conversation, their voices not exactly dimmed by the wall between them.

'Oh no, Chuck! We both know who won that game of chess, I did!'

'What? Are you kidding? You can't win a game if you don't play by the rules, Don!'

'I can't help it if you're distracted, Charlie. You weren't paying attention, and I did. You lost fair and square.'

'Oh, I see. When I lose it's fair and square, but when you lose suddenly it's against the rules?'

'Hey, counting cards is not allowed in casinos, so it's not allowed here! They don't come up with that rule for nothing.'

'They come up with that rule because they don't like losing money, and we weren't even playing for money. Besides, why do you think I was counting cards? Beating you at a game of poker is not entirely rocket science, Don.'

'Just like you said about beating Dad at Risk? I thought that we could make a pact, Charlie. You would march up Africa and I would corner him from Asia. What happened there, Chuck?'

'Hey, I couldn't help it! Those dice were rigged or something. The chance of losing with sixteen armies against three is…'

'I get it. Not very likely. But somehow you managed to pull it off and let Dad even conquer North Africa in the process. Way to go, Chuck!'

'Don't call me Chuck, Donald. And let's not forget how only minutes later you managed to pave the way for Dad all the way to the corner of the map. No wonder we lost, you let him win!'

'You're just a sore loser, Charlie. That's why you never want to play Scrabble.'

'Who's the sore loser here? You always flip when I win at chess!'

'Oh no, Chuck! We both know who won that game of chess, I did!'

'What? Are you kidding? You can't win… '

Alan sighed and slowly let his head rest on the cool surface of the kitchen table. This was going to be a long night.