FIC: Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle
Title: Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle
Author: serotonin_storm
Fandom: Numb3rs
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Charlie/Don, Larry/Megan UST
Warnings: incest
Word Count: 5500 words
Summary: Larry never meant to get involved with the Eppes brothers' relationship, but just by observing, he may have been the catalyst for change.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Edited 12/9/08.

There were a lot of things in his lifetime that Larry had not meant to do. He'd never meant to steal Billy Hanson's lollipop in the third grade, for example, and he had theories about the negative impacts this had on his life thereafter, but that was another story. He hadn't consciously made the decision to go into theoretical physics, because art was, in fact, a compelling -- well, way of life, honestly. But the field had just sort of tugged him into its orbit, and he could admit that the fascination had always been there, with stars and planets, and all things intangible.

But definitely topping his list of things he hadn't meant to do -- or at least placing at some impressively high point -- was becoming friends with Donald Eppes. Charles had his obsessions -- his math, his consulting, his brother; and Larry tried to shy far from those things. The young man's energy had quite a strong pull, and it seeped into every aspect of his life that he focused on. Larry could admit to himself that he probably could not afford to be any more distracted than he already was, or he'd be completely sucked in.

Regardless of all that, or perhaps in spite of his efforts to prevent it, there he and Don were in the kitchen of Larry's condo. Don had one elbow propped up onto the counter, head resting in his hand, and was watching him curiously.

"Charlie said you only ate foods that were white," he rasped suddenly, cocking his head to the side in a gesture vaguely reminiscent of Charles himself. Something quite interesting about Don, actually, was the way he looked at people. Namely, the varied ways. While his gaze might be curious when directed at Larry, it was fond for his team, respectful for Alan, and soft and...guarded, somehow, for his brother.

Which was fascinating, very fascinating.

Larry glanced down at the sandwich he was making -- which, yes, was indeed not white. "Ah, yes," he said. "Supersymmetry. Very, very interesting line of thought. Particle superpartners."

"So, what, you're not doing that anymore?"

He spread mayonnaise onto the second piece of bread. "Well, no, not actively. Though no aspect of physics ever truly sleeps, if you know what I mean."

Don smiled. "I really don't, you know. Charlie never told you about my C in physics?"

"I don't suppose he did," he answered thoughtfully. One piece of bread met the other, and he raised the sandwich to his lips.

At Don's stare, he paused. Something felt very uneven about this whole situation.

It hit him all at once. "Would you like a sandwich?" he asked, reaching behind himself blindly. "I've got all sorts of things in the fridge."

Don shook his head with a laugh. "No, that's okay, I ate." He scratched the back of his neck, an action Larry could identify as a nervous quirk. He'd been told he had quite a few himself, but self-analysis was something he'd always found quite difficult.

The air rang with quiet expectation, and he waited.

"What am I doing here?" Don asked finally. He sounded thoughtful, and lost, and confused all at once. "I really don't know."

Larry contemplated his sandwich. "Oh, what a different world it would be if any of us really did understand that, Agent Eppes." He reached for a plastic baggy. On second thought, he wasn't particularly hungry.


--

"Larry!"

He turned in time to see a frantic mathematician careening up the path in an attempt to catch up with him, narrowly avoiding collision with several students. Larry gave a small smile and stopped walking. It was the least he could do to prevent the unneeded injury of those that he taught.

"Good morning, Charles," he said as the man came to a stop next to him and stood, panting. "Something you need me for?"

Charlie furrowed his brow. "Where were you last night? You were supposed to go to that lecture with Amita and me, remember? We worried about you all night. Larry, you were the ride."

Now that it was mentioned, he did recall something about a lecture. A mathematical theory of some kind that Charles had been excited about. "I'm sorry, I must have gotten distracted," he answered.

"That's -- " Charlie crossed his arms and bit his lower lip. "I mean, that's fine." He laughed. "It's not like I don't do that occasionally." Larry felt Charlie's gaze on him as they turned into his office. "It's just... What were you doing?" he asked.

Larry deposited his bag onto the floor by his desk. "I was having a very involved discussion with your brother over the practicality of theoretical physics in everyday life."

"You were -- you were hanging out with Don?" Charlie sounded choked.

"He's quite the engaging conversationalist." They'd talked for several hours. Don was open to conjecture and speculation, which was something Larry liked in a friend.

Charlie rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I don't understand it," he admitted. "It's not like you two have anything in common."

"Well, no, that's not true at all," Larry said, tapping a finger against his chin and turning away. "We have you, after all."


--

Don showed up at his doorstep at eight o'clock two days later, rain soaked and weary. Larry remembered one such similarly wet Charlie seeking him out in the past, and the connection pleased him in an odd way. Don gave him a small wave, and Larry stepped aside without thinking about it.

"Donald," he said as he ushered the man into the hallway. "I don't know if you've noticed this, but it happens to be raining."

Don shot him an amused glance. "Yeah, Larry, I noticed."

"Would you like to tell me why you were traveling around in the rain?"

"No, not really," Don replied with a sigh.

"Huh," he said contemplatively. That appeared to be a conversational dead end.

Don crossed his arms, looking down at the wet carpet somewhat guiltily. "Is it alright if I hang out with you for awhile? I don't feel like going back to my apartment, and I don't want..." He trailed off for a moment, then finished, "to go to Dad and Charlie's house. Or a bar."

With a firm reminder that it wasn't any of his business, even if he fervently wished it was, he nodded in the direction of the living room. "Chess?"

Don grinned warmly, instantly looking infinitely more comfortable. "I always lose."

"So do I," Larry assured him as they made their way out of the hallway. "So do I."

They set up a game, which Larry lost, and then another which he lost even worse. Larry realized then that even if Don wasn't quite as intelligent as Charlie -- which didn't count for much in the first place, because half the world wasn't as intelligent as Charlie -- in no way was he slow. He was quick on the uptake, and as flat as his views on some things were, on others "three-dimensional" just didn't cut it as a description.

"I really appreciate this, Larry," Don said at the end of the night, giving him an awkward pat on the shoulder as they stood together on Larry's porch.

"Not a problem. Not a problem at all. Always happy to help out a fellow in need," he assured.

"So I was wondering..." Don's fingers rubbed nervously at the skin just above his collar. "Wanna do this again tomorrow? I mean, I know we've never been close or anything, but... You're a good guy, Larry, and you're kind of a -- calming presence, I guess. I could really use that right now." Don's gaze was fixed securely on the ground, but that did nothing to ebb the intensity behind his words.

"Donald," Larry said, "it would be my pleasure."


--

Larry went into work early the next morning, though he admittedly had very little to do. Charlie's office was empty, which was inconvenient as Larry had several equations for him to look at, and Amita was nowhere to be found. So he holed up in his office and waited for the day to begin.

It arrived with Megan, looking as sharp as ever in her pantsuit, mischievous smile firmly in place. "Hey, Larry," she said to him.

Closing the book he'd been reading at the sound of Megan's voice, he scrambled to his feet. "Hi, good morning," he said.

She moved from the doorway of his office and sauntered in his direction, arms crossed loosely over her chest. "What're you up to, Professor Fleinhardt?" she asked playfully.

He held up the small, blue book for her to see. "I'm attempting to reconnect with the younger generation."

"You're reading a novel?" She reached for it, and he deposited it into her open hand. Upon examining the back, she laughed lightly. "I read this one. The girl and the boy meet in the bookstore, right?"

"I'm, uh..." Massaging the back of his neck, he admitted, "I'm having a difficult time understanding it, to be honest. I mean, I appreciate fate and -- and love... But the whole idea seems rather far fetched to me."

"Romance novels are almost always far fetched, Larry," she told him. "They're normally the writer living vicariously through his or her characters."

"Oh!" he said, slapping a palm against his cheek softly. "This is a romance novel! Oh, that explains the -- " She was watching him, a smile on her face. "Oh."

She perched onto the edge of his desk, crossing her legs. "So I hear you've been spending some time with Don," she said.

"Yes, I have," he confirmed. "Everyone sounds so surprised by this."

"No, I think it's a good thing," she assured him. "I'm just wondering how Charlie feels about it."

"Truthfully, I don't think it agrees with him."

Megan nodded knowingly. "People like Charlie, they get used to their lives in a certain order. Something or someone threatening that order can upset them."

"See, though," he said, pointing, "I think he realizes that. Charles is a very smart individual. Perhaps he'll simply find a way to deal with the change."

"Mm." Shaking her head, Megan stood and walked toward the door. "If you ask me, something's gotta give. You sure you wanna be the cause of it?" He caught the book as she thumped it against his chest. "I'll see you later, Larry. I need to get back before my break is over."

"Goodbye, Megan," he said as she disappeared. In his peripheral, he saw her wave. A second later, he realized that the wave was not to him, but to the irate Charlie that was now storming into his office.

Charlie's arms were wrapped tightly around himself, and he was glaring darkly. His hair was damp, curls sticking to his face; Larry guessed that he'd just gotten in. "Did Don go to you last night?" Charlie demanded.

"That depends on what you mean by that," Larry said. "If you mean did he seek my guidance, then no. Did he come to my home and beat me senseless at chess, yes."

"He went over there," Charlie repeated slowly, "to play chess."

He raised his eyebrows. "You enjoy chess, if I recall correctly."

Charlie huffed and dropped into a seat that had been left in front of Larry's desk. "We had an argument." Larry nodded; that much he'd surmised. "It was -- it was bad. It sort of...stings that he would go to you." Charles glanced up, imploringly. "I don't know why."

Pressing his fingertips together, he leaned his head back, and thought. "Perhaps, Charles," he said eventually, Megan's words ringing in his ears, "you're attempting to compartmentalize your life. Family on one side, friends on the other. You don't like it when the two intermingle. It upsets your world view." Charlie's chin dropped to his chest in something akin to defeat . "Life is not nearly so neat," Larry told him in what he hoped was a soothing tone. "It's a chaotic -- well, mess, frankly. Don seems to understand this. Maybe that's why he's upset."

Expression obscured beneath a fan of dark hair, Charlie clasped his hands together and asked, "Will you talk to him for me?"


--

"I don't want to talk about Charlie," Don said flatly, leaning back in his chair even as Larry leaned forward across the table. Like a magnet repelled. They'd just finished a chess game (Don had immediately gone for the board, and Larry didn't have the heart to object), and now they were relaxing, but the other man unconsciously demanded his space.

"I wasn't -- " Larry began.

"But you were going to," Don interrupted. "People get this -- this look in their eyes whenever they're about to go on about Charlie. I'd rather not do that today, if you don't mind."

"Fair enough," he assented. Charles would just have to accept this.

Don's eyes gleamed suddenly. It was an Eppes gleam, and it made Larry nervous. Many an evil plan had hatched because of a gleam in the younger Eppes' eyes.

"Let's talk about Megan," Don suggested casually.

"Megan?" he repeated. This was a popular topic as of late.

Don grinned loftily. "Yeah. You two have a thing?"

He thought about that. "Yes, I suppose we do have some sort of a thing. But I don't think it would be categorized as a -- a relationship, no." His feelings toward and about Megan were very tricky to pin down. But she always made him smile, which was nice, and she seemed to understand him, which was rare.

"That's a shame," Don said, almost tauntingly. "She's a great girl, good agent."

"Well, yes, but there are a lot of other factors. Timing, for example, and -- and -- " He floundered about. "Compatibility. It's a very complicated issue."

Don shrugged dismissively. "Doesn't seem too complicated to me."

"Things are often much different when observed from the outside, wouldn't you say?" he asked pointedly.

"I don't want to talk about Charlie," Don repeated. He reached for the chess board once again, and Larry relented with a sigh.


--

It was Alan who sought him out the next day in the cafeteria, a heavy textbook balanced under one arm, glasses perched precariously at the edge of his nose. The textbook met the table with a bang, and one bushy eyebrow was raised.

"Yes?" Larry asked, a spoon of yogurt centimeters from his mouth.

"So I ask Charlie where Don's been lately," Alan said, "why's he not been around to steal my food and stock the fridge with beer? And what do I find out? Old Larry has taken my eldest under his wing now. Starting a tradition?"

"I'd hardly say I've taken him under my wing," Larry protested, pushing his tray of food away entirely. "I've merely been spending free time conversing with an intelligent person who also happens to be another one of your sons. People are making entirely too much of this."

Alan tapped the table. "My boys were always very possessive of their toys."

"Don and Charles are adults," he insisted. "I'm sure they can handle having one friend in common."

"Who said I meant you?" asked Alan.

"I must say, I fail to see where you're going to with this," Larry told him.

Alan leaned back and fixed Larry with a steady, probing stare. "When Don was fifteen, he started being friends with this kid down the block, Mikey something or another. And it drove Charlie just crazy. He'd had his brother to himself for ten years, after all, and he wasn't about to give him up without a fight.

Well, naturally, that drove Don crazy. He did just about everything he could to ditch Charlie, until Charlie gave up -- just up and made his own little friend. Which meant, of course, that Donnie had to immediately drop this Mikey kid in order to secure his position as the coolest guy in Charlie's life." He tapped the table again for emphasis. "That's the way it's always been with them."

"Charles and Don have many friends outside of one another," Larry pointed out.

"Of course they have friends outside each other," Alan agreed. "But not the kid down the street who they both have to see every day. Charlie's not close with Don's team beyond what one might normally expect for just the same reason. It just doesn't work for them."

"I appreciate your concern, Alan," he said wearily as he reached for his yogurt a second time. "I'll keep that in mind."

He decided then that it was time again to talk to Charles. But first, he had a few things to work on.

--

It was well past seven by the time Larry finally remembered his plan to have a talk with Charlie, and even then it was probably only because of the growling of his stomach. Genius sometimes drove people to distraction; Charlie wasn't the only one who frequently forgot to eat.

While he assumed that Charlie had already gone home, many of his assumptions in life had been proven false, so he stopped by Charles' office just in case.

There were already muffled voices coming from inside when he came to a stop before the door. One, stuttering and breaking, was most definitely Charlie's. The other, though it possessed an furious tone Larry had never before heard from the man, was Don's.

"It's not that easy, Charlie!" he was saying. "You don't just get to say that this is wrong and this is right, and that's just the end of it. Okay? You don't get to do that, it's not okay."

Charlie sounded just as angry when he replied, "Don, you're an -- an FBI agent! You work for the government, man. You of all people know that wrong is wrong, and right is right. You know that people like us can't change that just because... just because we might want to."

Larry, he told himself, you are eavesdropping, and this is not for you to know. Stay out of it. But he couldn't bring himself to move.

"No," Don yelled, "I know certain people say something is wrong, and they're making decisions for a whole lot of other people they don't know when they do it. God, Charlie, think about it -- black people could once legally be owned by white people. Gay men couldn't even legally have sex, or be open about the fact that they were attracted to other guys. Things change, buddy, because some of them are injustices."

"Maybe..." Charlie's voice broke, and he cleared his throat. "Maybe that's not what I want, Don. Maybe I don't want to -- want to wait for things to change. Maybe I want to be able to have something people can know about."

"What, you want someone like Larry or Amita?" Don asked viciously. "Someone you can parade in front of Dad like a little trophy?"

"You're the one spending all the time with Larry, Don! Don't try to pin something on me, alright, don't."

"You're so goddamn set in your ways, Charlie! Jesus, don't you even care what you're doing to me?"

Charlie gave a broken cry, a sound so raw it was almost a howl. "How many times do we have to have this argument, Don? You're just, you're asking too much of me! It's just too much!"

"God, Charlie, you don't have to worry, okay? I'm not going to ask again. Is that it? Is that what you want, Charlie?" There was a heavy silence. "Thought so."

"Where are you going?" Charlie asked even as Larry heard Don's footsteps draw closer. Larry still couldn't move, couldn't pick his feet up off the ground. "Are you going to go running to Larry like the last time?"

Don laughed hollowly. "Charlie Eppes, you're the last person on Earth who needs to be talking about running away." With that, the door burst open. Larry tried to step back, but he wasn't quick enough. It hit him squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

Don started to apologize, then went pale with the realization of what his presence meant. "L-Larry," he said, stumbling over the word. Charlie appeared in the doorway instantly, eyes wide with fear.

"Agent Eppes, Charles, you don't have to worry," he said quickly. "This is none of my business, and not a word of it will be getting out."

Charlie sighed in relief, but Don squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't believe this is happening," he said through gritted teeth. He sighed and, eyes still closed tightly, said, "I suppose this means I'm not welcome over anymore."

Something inside of Larry twisted painfully. "Donald, you're welcome at my home anytime. Your brother as well." He looked at Charlie, then back at Don. "This doesn't change anything. I'm always here if you want to talk."

Don shook his head. "At this point, Larry," he said, eyes dark, "I think what I need to do is forget." He turned and walked away then, without even a last glance toward the doorway where Charlie stood, expression twisted in turmoil.

When Charlie's gaze finally moved from his brother's back to Larry's face, it had turned bleak. "I've been waiting for that to happen for a long time," he said despairingly as he turned back into his office.

Larry didn't follow. He knew that more than anything right then, Charles needed to be alone.


--

Both Alan and Megan came to him at some point during the next two weeks, frantic to know what had caused the rift in Charlie and Don's relationship. "You must understand there's a certain amount of discretion that must be employed in this type of situation," he'd told Megan, and that had been enough to satisfy her, though she was still significantly less than pleased. Satisfying Alan, however, was a much more difficult feat.

"I know you know what's going on," Alan growled at him as they sat in the living room of the Eppes' family home. Charlie was out to dinner with Amita, by Amita's insistence. Larry knew she understood that she was losing him. Charlie hadn't been the same since the fight with Don, and he'd shown very little interest in his relationship with Amita at all.

This was not something that had escaped Alan, either, which was why he'd called Larry over. Which brought Larry back to the issue at hand.

"Alan, I really do not think that this is an issue with which you should become involved," he advised.

"They're my sons!" Alan exclaimed angrily. "Their business is my business."

"May I remind you again that they are adults. They need to work out their issues on their own. Your interference would only complicate the situation at this point."

"So I'm just supposed to sit back and watch them grow apart again?" the other man asked, slapping a hand against his knee in frustration. "Larry, they were doing so well! You should have seen Charlie after Don moved away, and that was finally getting better! Now, now they're destroying that, and you're telling me there's nothing I can do about it?"

"Things have a way of resolving themselves," he said reassuringly, "if you just give them enough time." And even though Alan simply shook his head hopelessly, Larry felt a certain amount of confidence in these words.

When he left the house that night, the air pulsed with expectation. Something would be changing soon, he knew it.


--

Sure enough, there was a bang at his door later that night. Throwing a quick look at the clock, he was especially glad at that moment not to be asleep. Not that visitors at three o'clock in the morning didn't deserve the same amount of attention, but he doubted that he would have appreciated them quite the same way.

"You," Don said, pointing a finger at his chest as soon as he opened the door. He smelled of beer, and possibly whiskey. "You started this. Can't you fix it?"

"Me?" he repeated, voice rising. "How did I start anything?"

"He got jealous," Don said as Larry made room for him to stumble past into the house. "This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't have gotten jealous." He laughed. "Jealous of you. So you started it."

"Don, you're quite intoxicated," he said.

"I am drunk," Don agreed good-naturedly. "But then again, my life is falling apart, so drunk is probably a good thing to be."

"Are you sure things are honestly as bleak as you make them out to be?" he asked.

"Larry, I'm in love with my brother!" Don shouted. Larry couldn't help but flinch. "See? It's fucking awful, and I'm going to hell. I'm never going to see my mother again, because she's in heaven, and I'm going to hell."

"Donald, I'm sure no deity would condemn you for falling in love with anyone. Man is an imperfect species. You know this; you told Charlie. Just because a rule is set, doesn't make it truth."

"I'm an FBI agent," Don said weakly. "I'm a responsible, upstanding citizen. I should be able to control this. I should be able to make it go away."

"Life isn't that simple," Larry said, repeating his words to Charles.

"Yeah, I know," Don whispered.

There was a bang at the door. "Larry!" Charlie's voice yelled. "Larry, is he in there?"

Larry looked to Don, who nodded. "He's in here, Charles," Larry said back, "come on in."

The door opened, and there Charlie stood, head down, lips pursed. Don's mouth twisted into a perverse kind of smile. "Charlie," he slurred. "Back to rip the rest of my heart out?"

Charlie's mouth fell open, and Larry could see him swallow hard. "Come on, Don, you need to come with me before my cab leaves. You can't drive like this."

"What do you care, Charlie?" Don spat. "Stop doing this to me, stop caring and then not. Make up your damn mind!"

"Don, you're the most important person in my life, always," Charlie choked out.

"Oh, yeah?" Don said. "Why don't you tell that to Amita? Why don't you tell that to Dad? Let's see that they have to say about it."

Larry laid a placating hand on Don's shoulder. "Charles, forget about your cab. I think you two need to talk."

"I don't know what to say!" Charlie exclaimed. He turned to Don, eyes wild. "It isn't that I don't want what you want, Don. God, I-I want it more than anything. But it just can't work! One plus one can never equal three, no matter how much someone wants it to."

"It's not math, Charlie!" Don said angrily.

"Everything is math," Charlie objected. "Everything."

"Charles, perhaps your equation doesn't equal two," Larry said, "because it doesn't need to equal two. Why can't your solution be three? Who says it has to be two?"

"The world!"

"Screw the world!" Don shouted.

"Charles, he's right," Larry said. "The world doesn't matter. The only thing you can live for is yourself and the people you love. No one else matters."

"I love Dad, and this would kill him," Charlie said. Don cringed at his words.

"Your father loves you two more than anything else, you know this. Even if he found out, I believe that he would eventually understand. Maybe not agree, no, but understand," Larry told him.

"Forget it, Larry," Don croaked. "He's right, he's right, okay? We've had this conversation a million times. It doesn't matter that he loves me and I love him, or that I want to be with him. It hasn't happened yet, and it never will."

"Don..." Charlie stepped closer, reaching out a hand.

"You think this doesn't hurt me just as much?" Don asked. "I already ran away from it, but it never went away. It's not going to go away, Charlie, it just doesn't go away."

"I'm sorry," Charlie said. "Donnie, I'm so sorry. I know it hurts you. I do. But there are reasons -- "

"I know there are reasons!"

"But I do not," Larry interjected. He'd completely abandoned his original resolve to stay out of the matter, so he might as well put everything he had into it. "What are the reasons?"

"It's illegal," Don said.

Charlie said, "It would hurt Dad."

He looked from Charlie's face to Don's. "So I'm to understand that because you can't go out and shout it from the rooftops, it's not worth doing?"

Charlie's brow furrowed. "I -- "

"Charles," he said, "if it were illegal to practice maths, would you honestly cease to do so?"

"I-it's not the same situation, Larry, it's -- "

"Don is your brother. He's never going to stop being your brother, and there is some reason that he is so in the first place. But if he is also the person you love, I simply don't understand why biology takes precedence."

"Because he is my brother," Charlie said softly, "and I don't want to mess that up."

Don frowned. "Charlie, buddy, we'll always be brothers first. Nothing's going to change that. I'll always love you that way first."

"I know that," Charlie said, but there was no resolve in the words.

Larry understood in that moment that nothing more would be accomplished with him in the room. "I'll tell you what," he said, placing a hand lightly against one cheek. "I'll find something to occupy me outside of this house for tonight, and you two can settle this on your own."

"Larry, it's three-thirty in the morning!" Charlie said.

"Well, yes, but the relationship of two very important people in my life is more important than my schedule. I've got sufficient funds; I can spend a night in a hotel."

"Larry, buddy, come on -- you don't have to do this," Don told him.

He shook his head, grabbing his coat from the stand. He fished in the inside pocket for his wallet and keys. "You two take care of this. I have very high opinions of you both. I know you can find a solution." He left then, ignoring their half-hearted protests.

Don had called him the catalyst, in so many words, and just maybe it was true. He would do his part to make it better in whatever way he could.


--

When he saw Charles the next morning, there was a grin on his face. He told Larry they'd locked his condo up, and thanked him. As he left he turned in just the right angle for Larry to see the hickey on his neck. Larry smiled and shook his head.


--

"Larry, Larry, Larry," Megan said, shaking her head appreciatively. "I don't know how you did it, but you fixed it. Don's out of his slump, and Charlie's coming around again. Couldn't be soon enough -- all that consulting really helps us."

"And how do you know I have anything to do with it at all?" he asked.

She smiled at him fondly, eyes squinted against the bright sunlight that flooded the park. "I don't know, I just do. You have a way of changing people for the better. You gonna keep spending your nights with Don?"

He hadn't given it much thought. "I suppose so," he said slowly. "Unless it finds some way to further upset the balance of the universe, in which case I may possibly just stick to Charles."

"I kind of have the feeling they can handle it now," Megan said. He nodded his agreement. "So what do you have to do today?" she asked.

"Well, truthfully not all that much," he answered. "Maybe -- would you like to get some coffee?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "Yeah, I would like that." She stood from her spot on the bench. "I don't suppose you can tell me what the problem was now?" she asked as they walked in the direction of his car.

"I'm afraid not," he laughed.

She shrugged, golden hair dancing around her shoulders in the breeze. "Eh, I probably don't wanna know anyway. Life's always better when the two of them get along without getting anyone else involved."

He raised an eyebrow. "So I've learned."