H is for Handymen

Author: Jelsemium

Author's Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.

Author's Notes: The ending is somewhat different than the story that I posted in the 2006 Summer Alphabet Fiction Challenge. Oh, yes, this is obviously before Larry sold his house, too. ;-)

Author's Dedication: Still for Wildfyre

Chapter 6 of 6

Megan didn't get her explanation until several hours later, in the comfort and safety of Charlie's living room, after they'd had a little something to settle their nerves.

Larry and Charlie related their misadventure to a mostly sympathetic audience of Megan, Amita, Alan and Don. (Don being the reason the audience was only 'mostly' sympathetic.)

"We probably could have taken him," Charlie was saying somewhat sheepishly. "The numbers clearly favored us. Two against one..."

"And he was on the emaciated side," Larry added. "Both Charles and I are in excellent health."

"Tackling an armed mugger would have been extremely foolish!" Alan snapped.

"Good, then that's why we didn't do it," Larry said, nodding. He took another pull on his scotch and soda.

"Well, that and the fact that the only thought in our minds right then was to put as much distance as possible between us and that knife," Charlie said. He fingered the bandage on his throat.

"Good call," Don said. "So the day was a disaster, was it?" He looked at the three painters curiously.

"Well, no," Larry said. "We did get Megan's condo painted.

"Plus, I met some of my neighbors," Megan said. "They're a pretty useful bunch, too."

Larry nodded. "On the first floor there are two nurses, male and female, who are married. The second floor holds a Methodist minister and a karate teacher. The third floor, in addition to our very own Megan, houses a…" he paused.

"Mortician," Charlie finished.

"Let's not need him for a while, okay?" Don said.

"Works for me," Charlie muttered.

"Oh, my," Amita said. "Sounds like an interesting group."

"Well, they seem to like me," Megan said. She smiled at Amita. "There's still an empty condo, if you want one."

"I'll think about it," Amita said.

Larry was sitting on the couch with Megan. Charlie wasn't sitting in his favorite chair as its arms weren't wide enough for the current seating arrangement. Amita was perched on the arm of Charlie's chair with one arm draped around the mathematician. Larry couldn't decide who looked happier about the arrangement… Charlie or Alan.

Amita touched the side of Charlie's jaw and tilted her head to look at his bandage. "That looks nasty," she said.

Charlie gave his head a slight shake. "It's just a nick," he said. "Didn't even need stitches. The tetanus shot hurt more."

"What were you two arguing about, anyway?" Alan asked.

Charlie and Larry gave Alan politely puzzled looks.

"Arguing?" Charles asked.

"Us?" Larry said as if such a thing was beyond the realm of possibility.

"When you two split up," Alan prompted. "You said you had an argument."

Larry and Charlie exchanged abashed glances.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Amita blurted. "Don't tell me that you're still arguing about Galois Groupings!"

"Okay," Charlie jumped in. "We won't."

"You should have gone back to Megan's condo," Alan scolded.

"We did," Charlie said defensively.

"Yeah, screaming for Megan to come save you," Don said. He chuckled into his beer.

Alan gave him a dirty look.

Amita frowned at him.

"Yelling," Charlie said, after another shot of Nerve Settling Beverage.

"There's a difference?" Don challenged.

"Well, yelling does imply more volume and… projection," Larry said.

"Projection is a good word," Charlie said, nodding. "Larry and I have a lot of practice at projecting."

"I thought I was yelling," Megan said, smiling at them.

"No," Larry said. "You were more… roaring."

Charlie nodded. "Like a lioness out to protect her cubs." He frowned and concentrated on his drink. "No, not cubs."

"You're just a pair of cubs at heart," said Don.

"But that makes me think of Chicago Cubs," Charlie complained.

"Can't have that. No rooting for the Cubbies," Alan declared. He took a sip of his Tom Collins, which he had been nursing all evening.

"Her pride?" Larry suggested. "Yes, Megan the Lioness came roaring out ready to defend her pride."

"What happened to the mugger?" Amita asked.

"Megan kicked his butt," Charlie said.

"Actually, he fainted," Megan said dryly.

"If I saw you charge at me, waving your sidearm and bellowing 'FBI! FREEZE!' I just might faint myself," Don said, grinning.

Megan shot him a dirty look.

"Pity to have wasted all that vanilla," Amita said.

Larry shook his head. "Amazingly enough, the bottle didn't shatter," he said. "It's now bagged and tagged as evidence by those wonderful public servants in the Los Angeles Police Department."

"Along with the last of my money," moaned Charlie.

Amita stroked his hair.

Charlie beamed at her.

"Get some more from the ATM," Don suggested.

Charlie gave him a dirty look. "My ATM card was in my wallet," he said. "Along with my credit cards and driver's license and school ID and BevMo card and Fedco card…"

"Awww, that's sad, Chuckie," Don said.

Charlie glared to no avail.

"Maybe you need to sit on the curb in front of CalSci with a sign…" Don said. "'Will derive formulas for food.'"

"Donnie, be nice to your brother, he had a bad day," Alan said warningly.

Don eyed Charlie up and down. "Define 'nice'," he said.

Alan growled. "Something that won't make your father smack you," he said.

"Another round, gentlemen?" Don said, jumping to his feet. Don handed Larry a drink that was more soda than scotch and Charlie a drink that was more scotch than soda.

"Thanks," Charlie said.

"You're not going to be in any shape to help Megan tomorrow if you keep sucking the booze down like that," Don warned.

"I can't go tomorrow," Charlie said owlishly. "Besides, we can't do anything until the paint is thoroughly dried out."

"As well as the painters," Don smirked, pretending not to see Alan's glare. He shook his head. "Honestly, you boys need a bodyguard or something."

Larry grinned. "Good idea, Don, so glad you volunteered to help us finish up."

Amita giggled.

Don blinked. "What?"

Megan beamed at him. "That's wonderful, Don!" she said. "I'm sure we'll all feel so much safer with a big, strong federal agent like you around to protect us!" She batted her eyes at him.

Don opened his mouth.

"Then it's settled!" Alan said happily. "What time do you need Don over there tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? I have a date for tomorrow!" Don protested.

"Okay, you can come with Charlie next Saturday," Megan said cheerfully.

"What time?" Alan asked again.

"Oh, elevenish would work fine," Megan smirked.

"But, Dad!" protested Don.

Alan glared. "Your mother and I raised you to be a gentleman. That means giving a lady a hand when she asks for it."

They could all see Don struggle with the impulse to declare that Megan was not a lady. Obviously, common sense and self-preservation won over the need to snark.

Don sighed. "Fine," he said.

Charlie laughed. "Don't worry, Megan can protect you from muggers," he said.

Don gave his brother a severe look, and then he swiped Charlie's drink and set it on the lamp table. "You've had enough, Buddy," Don said, hauling the smaller man to his feet and shoving him in the direction of the stairs. "It's past your bedtime!"

Charlie waved at Amita and Megan. "Night, ladies!"

Amita slid into Charlie's chair and helped herself to the rest of his drink.

Everybody held their glasses up and toasted the brothers as Don towed Charlie out of sight.

"Come on, Professor," Megan said. "I'll drive you home."

Larry smiled at her and followed her out the door.

Neither Alan nor Amita was indiscreet enough to ask whose home.