Author:DreamBrother

Summary:(Summer Alphabet Challenge 2007) We all know Don and Charlie play golf with their dad sometimes. Why not go bowling as well?

Disclaimer:I don't own Numb3rs. I'd rather own a Mustang, in spite of the fact that I have only 3 hours of driving lessons under my belt. But having a Mustang would be a pretty good incentive to become an awesome and cautious driver, wouldn't it?

Author's Note:Wave to my darling cousin, Sairah, who has the misfortune/honour of being the first person to know me outside of the Internet to have read any of my stories. She's also best buddies with Brother #1, the Flake stealer. Maybe I should start a petition through this story to get her to name her future child after me… Guys, you want to help?

Man, I haven't been bowling in ages. If I mess it up, blame it on the fact that my friends are not the bowling type… darn it. And the terminology… not many synonyms out there.

References to my previous fic, F is for Facts of Life, and to the episodes Vector, Noisy Edge, Money for Nothing, Man Hunt Harvest, Protest might come in somewhere, and maybe references to the movies Men in Black, Independence Day… I watch too much television…

B is for Bowled Over

"Am I allowed to comment on the irony that is my FBI agent son and my mathematician son who also consults for multiple government agencies taking me, a retired city planner, to Area 51?" asked Alan as he stood in front of his offspring.

Both Don and Charlie looked up from where they sat, tying the laces of their bowling shoes, and stared at their father from underneath their eyebrows. Don was the first to answer:

"Please don't tell me you believe in those cuckoo conspiracy theories. What, in addition to being an anti-war protestor, you also protest the fact that our government might have a secret underground lair where we torture and experiment on extra terrestrials?" asked Don sarcastically.

"What I would like to note is how you used the word 'we' when referring to the alien abduction and torture," commented Alan as Charlie looked on in amusement.

"So now in addition to being a G-man, I'm a Man in Black as well?"

"Well, you do wear black a lot bro, so the wardrobe requirement is fulfilled. Add in the fact that you've got the sunglasses, the secrets, the times your cell-phone is turned off and nobody knows where you are…," offered Charlie.

"Oh for Pete's sake, this is a bowling alley with an alien theme! I can't take you guys to a bowling alley without being accused of being a secret agent man? If I wanted to be a spook, I would have joined the CIA," said Don, shaking his head before putting on his right bowling shoe. "And Charlie is more likely to know the inner secrets of the government, with his NSA connections and all, than I do. Not that I'm saying there is any secret to be known…" defended Don.

"And even if there was, I couldn't tell you two. Sorry dad, you'll just have to visit the aliens and organize a prison break all by your lonesome," said Charlie, before turning to his brother. "So, following your reasoning, by joining the FBI are you more of a thug in comparison?"

Don glared at his brother before remarking, "Watch it Chuck. Lots of heavy round objects around here, you don't want me accidentally bonking you on the head with a bowling ball."

"Be careful Don, hitting me on the head will seriously reduce the going price of my brain which you plan to put up on eBay," chided Charlie sweetly.

"I'm pretty sure the satisfaction I will derive from banging you on the head now will make up the deficit," retorted Don.

"Boys, boys, there shall be no talk of fratricide, dismemberment or organ auctioning in my presence. And if you ladies are done tying your shoes, I would like to bowl," scolded Alan before turning away and going towards the alley reserved for the Eppes men, walking past the inflated alien dolls and flashing neon lights.

Don gave his brother a slight shove as they stood up and followed their father. He grinned as he heard his brother groan after taking a look at the screen above and noticing the players' names.

"Chuck E.? Chuckie? Don, did you have to do that?"

"Well, I was going to resist the temptation, but being a thug, I had no self-control, you see," replied Don sweetly.

"Well, at least I should be grateful you didn't add Norris to the name," mused Charlie, thinking of the Chuck Norris facts T shirt he had received from his brother as a gift a few weeks ago, with captions that would have sent Larry into a fit, had he seen them.

"I was going to, but then there was a word limit. Had to settle for less," said Don, grinning at the look his little brother was shooting him. Both brothers took a seat at the table in front of their lane, sitting on opposite sides and turning towards their father who had the first turn. "I can't believe a comment from you over 2 years ago has led to this."

"Stop whining. That comment, even though my intention behind it might have been to prevent Dad from being exposed to a potential virus downtown, has led to him discovering a new past-time that he's good at. I don't remember if you're good at it, though. Ever played?" asked Charlie.

"Not seriously. Might have gone once or twice with the guys while at Quantico. In any case, ice hockey and baseball and everything were enough to keep me busy on the sports front. You?" asked Don in turn.

"I used to go once in a while with Susan while I was in Britain. Haven't played in the States, much. Larry finds the balls too heavy and the lighter ones won't fit on his fingers," replied Charlie.

Don shook his head at the thought of the physicist being a serious bowler, with the stance and the shoes and the technique and concentration. He shifted his attention back to his father in time to see Alan knock down 2 remaining pins to achieve a spare on his first frame.

"Not bad, as a warm up. Your turn Chuck- Charlie," corrected Alan quickly as he sat in the chair vacated by his youngest, ignoring the triumphant grin on his eldest at Alan's slip-of-the-tongue and giving an apologetic look to Charlie who was looking at him with a mixture of incredulity and surprise. "It's a good thing your mother and I didn't consult you when we named Charlie," Alan scolded Don.

"I quote said child: 'It's a term of endearment, father.' Are you offering alternatives? I thought not," said Don after his father shook his head. Whether in amusement or in denial, that was another matter. Seeing that his brother was still mulling over which ball to play with, he called out impatiently, "Charlie, would you just choose a ball already? If you can lift a ball, take it and chuck it down the alley, it's that simple!" Mumbling under his breath, Don said, "No wonder only old people play this game, its so frickin slow!"

"What was that, son of mine?" inquired Alan, catching the gist of his son's grumbles.

"Erm… nothing, dad. Didn't say anything. You're hearing things," deflected Don.

Charlie smiled at his brother's impatience, knowing that compared to the high speed games such as baseball and hockey that Don was used to, bowling must be a slow burn. Deciding to spare his brother a lecture on the importance of ball weights, he took a medium weight ball and sent it rolling down the lane... and promptly into the gutter. Behind him he heard his brother snort, and deciding to cut the head off his brother's eventual jibes, he quickly grabbed another ball and played, this time knocking 6 of the pins down, to achieve a reasonable first score.

"Not bad for my first time after so long," Charlie commented, "Show us your skills, brother of mine."

"That's right. Just sit back, relax, and watch how real guys play," stated Don confidently, sticking his fingers in the first ball in the circular holding area and rolled the ball, only to have his thumb get stuck in the ball at the last second, with the ball coming loose to drop on the lane with a loud thump, thankfully a few inches from Don's foot, and then roll into the gutter. None of the three Eppes men could believe what had just happened, seeing as Don was the professional athlete of the family, and watched silently as the ball travelled piteously to the end of the lane and disappeared from view.

Turning around to face his family, Don smiled in embarrassment and said, "Oops. I think I need to pick my bowling balls more carefully," and with that, he scooped up the ball with the largest finger holds and as the light turned green, he lowered his arm and swung his hand back to gain momentum, only to have the ball slip from his fingers and thump again on the ground, this time rolling towards his father and brother instead of towards the bowling pins. With his back still to his family, shocked, Don heard his brother's laughter break out and his father's tsk-tsking as he picked up the errant ball and handed it back to Don.

"Son, I think you need to remember that the targets are the ten pins over there, not your only brother and father," chided Alan, eyes crinkling in amusement as he tried his best to not join his youngest in laughing.

Snatching the ball from his father's hand and with both hands rolling it down the gutter alley deliberately, he turned around and said, "Hey, would you look at that? It's your turn again, dad," and went to sit next to his brother, "Oh shut up Chuck," grumbled Don.

"It's too bad you aren't carrying your gun, Donald, you could have used it to shoot extra finger holds into a ball. Or better yet, shoot down the pins," suggested Charlie between his laughter.

Looking his brother straight in the eye, Don asked, "What makes you think I'm not carrying, Charlie? They call it a concealed weapon for a reason." The small feeling of payback derived from the look of surprise in his brother's eyes was negated by the fact that his father bowled a strike. Charlie's turn proved to be successful as well as his brother managed a spare. Taking a deep breath, Don stood and picked his ball carefully.

Five frames later, with a few more gutter balls and at least 2 more loud crashings of the ball which resulted in an employee of the bowling alley coming to tell Don not to be so cruel to the bowling lane, Don had given up. His father and Charlie alternated using his turn and the end result was Alan winning, with Charlie giving him reasonable competition. Don's score however, did not even reach double digits, even with Alan and Charlie's help near the end.

The ride home saw one Eppes sulking while driving, one sitting in the backseat with his hand over his mouth to hide his smile, and the third Eppes sitting in the passenger seat, choosing his words carefully.

"You know, it's not really a big deal. You're good at other sports, like baseball and hockey and golf-,"

"Zip it, Charlie," bit out Don.

Charlie continued, not heeding his brother, "-I mean, if you just forget the fact that most men and women worldwide play this game more than any other sport-,"

"Last warning, Chuck,"

"-I'm not saying that you have to be good at everything. I mean, I might rock on the basketball front, hiking, Frisbee golf, even rock climb-,"

"That's it," said Don, pulling over, "You're walking home, hotshot."

Khatum (The End)

I think the muse abandoned me halfway through. That'll teach me to leave a story started 3 days ago undone. My muse, like me, is not patient and gets distracted easily.

Let's all pray the Angst Muse gets back soon, the cuckoo one might go on overdrive and burst into flames.

Reviews appreciated.