Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The next time Ian’s in town he doesn’t call to let them know, doesn’t send an advance email or text. The first Colby knows about it, Ian’s been arrested for murdering an informant and he and David are rolling out to search Ian’s apartment.

“You okay with this?” David asks. 

They’re standing in the middle of what Colby had told Charlie was essentially a storage room, and he wasn’t far off. There’s a camp cot, a battered chair, and a few open cardboard boxes. Duffles that are pre-packed for travel line one wall, each one for different climates or weather. There’s neatly organized camping gear and two gun safes, one for long guns and one for Ian’s handguns. Dishes are in a narrow cupboard, a mug is left to dry in the rack by the sink. The fridge is tiny and empty.

Colby looks around. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He’s really not. He’s worried, his stomach is in a knot, and he’s clinging to his job because it’s probably the only way he can help Ian. He glances at David and gives him some truth. “I mean, I’m not crazy about going through his stuff, but he’ll understand it’s just the job, once this mess is sorted out.” Ian will understand the intrusion. Ian will help Colby understand what the hell brought them to this. Colby bends down to look into a cardboard box that’s labeled books, and finds a selection of novels and a few texts he recognizes from Quantico.

David’s going through one of the duffles. “The marshals seem pretty sure he’s their guy.”

“Then they’re dumbasses, but I’m going to do the job anyway, ‘cause you and Don will kick my ass if I don’t.” He flips through the books, looking for paper to fall out. A random phone number, a note to meet someone. Anything.

David sighs. “I just hope that Megan and Nikki find something on this case he’s working.”

“They’ll do their jobs, too, man.” Even if it’s harder, building a case around a friend. They all do their jobs.

#

There’s nothing in the apartment. Colby finds the box of sentimental items Ian mentioned and dutifully searches it, trying not to feel any particular way as he works. This isn’t how he wants to get to know Ian better. There’s a letter from his grandfather. Photos of his family, of Ian as a kid on his mother’s lap. An ancient and worn bible with paper so thin Colby can see his fingers through the pages. A china tea cup with a painted rose on the inside. More photos, some from Afghanistan and one from Paris. Ian’s degrees, more than the required number for the FBI. Eight medals, in their boxes. A silk bag with four wedding rings and an engagement ring, all of them worn from long years of use, two engraved with the same date, three years before Ian was born.

Colby closes the box up and doesn’t meet David’s eye. He reminds himself that he and David treated Ian’s things with more respect than whoever had searched Colby’s place after his arrest.

“Thanks, that’s the last of it.” David’s voice is quiet. “Come on, let’s go to the prison and talk to Don. We can call Megan for an update on the way.”

#

At the prison, they find Don and tell him they’ve got nothing. 

Don’s just as incredulous about Ian’s arrest as Colby. “I mean, he’s going to kill a guy with his own knife and dump it a block away?”

Colby’s about to agree, about to suggest that they get Charlie to the office and maybe he’ll have better luck figuring this out, but alarms start going off, a shriek of ringing bells that cuts through the whole facility.

Attention all personnel. The prison is now in lockdown mode. 

They start running, doors slamming around them.

Ian’s made a break for it.

#

They follow him on the cameras, they go to the roof, they look over the edges. He’s not there. Colby didn’t think it would be that easy anyway, because the only easy way to find Ian is if he just happens to be sitting in front of you.

He lets Don and David have it out with the marshals for jurisdiction. Thompson and his hunter of choice, Janet Galvin, want them out of their scene and their prison as soon as possible, but that’s clearly not going to happen. It’s not a pissing match Colby cares about, other than he wants to be here in the prison, helping to find Ian before anything else happens to make it worse for him. There’s obviously something big going on that they don’t know about yet, and keeping Ian safe is the best way they can help. The only way to keep Ian safe is to find him.

He and Don go back up to the roof. There’s no way Ian jumped from there, he’d never make the fall. Colby’s pointing out the possibilities of the elevator shaft when Galvin and her crew join them, smugly pointing out that the FBI isn’t supposed to be there since it’s her scene. She does, however, hand over the fancy prison diagrams when Don goads her.

Colby takes a look. Her plans of the prison have before and after diagrams that their set doesn’t, and he finds an access hatch that he and Don didn’t know about, one her boys missed. She’s dismissive about it until Colby gets in there and finds orange cloth freshly torn from prison scrubs.

#

Nikki arrives and the four of them split up. Colby’s not sure where Galvin’s flounced off to—probably to go find Thompson and fill him in. Colby doesn’t really care where she is as long as it’s out of his way. The marshals have already covered about sixty percent of the rooms connected to the air vent Ian slipped into, so that leaves less than half for them to search. It’s still a ridiculous number of rooms.

Colby and Don pair up and check room after room, most of them empty, and peek into the vents. It’s tedious and nerve wracking. They go into a break room and pause inside the door, listening. They’re both looking around, taking inventory, and Colby notes the microwave, the vending machine; there’s even computers in here. There’s lot of places to hide.

They take another step in and Don freezes just as Colby hears a rustle and rattle. Don nods; he heard it too, and there’s two big grates up on the wall, covering the air ducts. Colby helps Don move a table over and climbs up to take a look, Don backing him up.

Colby’s calm. His breath is steady, and if Ian’s going to be looking back out at him, that’s good. It’s just him and Don here, the chances of talking him down and de-escalating this whole thing are high. Colby gets his flashlight ready and pries at the edge of the screen until it comes away. There’s no Ian, just what looks like a candy wrapper or empty chip bag, waving away in the breeze. “It’s nothing,” he tells Don.

Don looks up at him and drops the hand he’s been holding up to brace Colby in case he’d been pushed over by Ian attacking from the vent, and Colby starts to turn, starts to shift so he can jump down off the table. Ian drops down behind him from God knows where, and before Colby can do anything, before Don can yell, Ian’s got Don on the floor and kicked away from him, and he grabs Colby by the belt and pulls him off the table.

No. Not by the belt. By the gun at the small of Colby’s back, and if Mike Weston has faster reflexes than Ian he must be fucking Superman, because Don’s down, Colby’s grappled with his back to Ian’s chest, one of Ian’s arms clamping him place across his neck and shoulder, and Ian’s holding Colby’s own gun to his head. 

#

Don’s up, hitting the alarm switch on the wall, one hand out again, this time to pacify, which is ridiculous. He’s yelling. “All right, all right, all right. Take it easy!”

A lifetime of tactical training and investigative work kicks into gear, and there’s a gun to Colby’s head, right where Charlie kisses him sometimes. “Don, you need to take the shot, you just take it.”

Ian speaks right into Colby’s ear, his body hard behind Colby’s, his arm like a steel band, trapping him. “Too late,” he says to Don. “You should’ve shot right away—now you’re thinking too much. That’s when you make mistakes.”

“I thought you were innocent, Ian,” Don says, loud enough to be heard over the alarm bells.

“I am.” Ian’s voice is strained, a growl.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Colby says, “Don’t let him get in your head, Don. You do what you need to do.” It’s what he’s supposed to say, it’s what he’s spent years being trained to say. Ian’s washing both of them right back to their roots and Colby’s following, pushed by time and tide and the force of honed instincts. This isn’t a wave to ride, it’s a wave to survive.

David, Galvin, and Thompson spill in through the open door, their guns all aimed at Ian and Colby. 

Galvin practically purrs. “I’ve got him.” She’s greasy with eagerness.

“I’ve seen you shoot, Galvin,” Ian says, his voice smoother now, sarcastic in a way that’s bizarrely reassuring. “You’re not that good.” If he didn’t have a gun to Colby’s head Colby would probably agree with him.

David has his own opinion. “He’s not going to hurt Colby. He knows he’ll be dead one second later.”

“Yeah, then go ahead and pull the trigger, Sinclair—kill your own partner.” The smooth is gone and Ian’s harsh again, cold and alien.

There’s a pause while everyone stands there, assessing, and Colby’s starting to feel again. His heart rate is picking up and he really needs to get that under control. He can’t think if he’s panicking, and this confusion isn’t going to go away if he can’t think. He looks at Don, meets his eyes. Don’s thinking fast, trying to sort out what he’s seeing with what he knows. Colby needs to be ready to do what Don needs. He trusts that Don will trust him to back his play.

David says, “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? There’s a way out of this, still.”

Colby starts to count in his head. He counts his heartbeats, he counts his breaths, he counts prime numbers starting from three hundred and eleven.

Ian holds him tighter and Colby can feel his heartbeat, pounding against Colby’s back. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves an honest to God Mexican standoff—who’s blinking first?”

“You want to die, fine by me,” Galvin says with a sneer. Colby’s really starting to hate her. She’s gun happy and she wants Ian dead, no questions, no investigation. It’s gross and unhelpful.

Ian ignores her. “It’s your decision, Don—you know what I’m capable of.”

Thompson apparently decides to get his two cents in. “Eppes, don’t back down.”

Colby watches Don’s eyes. He watches Don’s glance shift to Ian, sees him make a choice.

“All right, David, get them out.” No one moves. “Get out. Get out!”

Then David shoves Thompson’s gun out of the way, grabs Galvin by her arm, and forces them both out the door. Don backs out after them, his eyes on Colby and Ian the whole way until the door closes, leaving Colby with Ian.

#

Ian drops the arm around Colby’s neck and steps back, quickly. They both know that for all he’s got a gun on Colby, he’s not stupid—he knows Colby’s pissed off and has more than enough training to fight dirty.

“What the hell, Ian!” Colby turns and has to force himself to hold his ground and not take a swing at the man with the gun. He’s not currently an idiot.

“Over there. Go on.” Ian gestures with the gun toward a support post in the middle of the room. “Face the post, arms around it.”

Colby stands still, staring. Ian’s eyes are intense, but this isn’t the sniper stare. This is a new one, and it makes Ian look like a stranger. When Ian’s eyes tighten at the corners and he gestures with his gun again, Colby walks to the post and holds his arms out.

“Bracelets,” Ian says. He’s staying out of kicking range, which is smart.

Colby loses a short debate with himself and gets his handcuffs from the small of his back. He misses his gun. Colby closes his cuffs around his left wrist and puts his arms back around the post, letting the right cuff dangle loose. Ian gets around in front of him and keeps Colby’s gun pointed to his head as he cuffs the right hand to the left.

“Did you actually tell Don to shoot me?” he asks, putting Colby’s gun in the waistband of his pants.

Colby snaps, just a little. He yells, “You held a gun to my head, you asshole! What did you expect?” and is rewarded with a flash of something like pain across Ian’s face. Then it’s gone and they’re just two angry men, one of them cuffed to a post, the other with a gun.

#

Colby makes himself breathe. He goes back to counting, trying to calm down, trying to get rid of any anger. He has no idea what’s going on here, and Ian’s not helping him understand, so he’s going to have to work this out for himself.

He knows the marshals are getting geared up. He knows Don and David are trying their best to make sure he’s safe. Their priority has been forced to shift; Ian made them shift their focus. Colby needs to be ready to improvise and to follow any lead or direction he gets, so he brings his heart rate down and watches while Ian prowls the room, taking inventory. There’s a lot in there, not just the computers and the vending machine. There’s dishes, tables, chairs. A microwave, lockers. It’s an active break room, and Ian’s got a lot of things to play with.

After a few minutes, by the time Colby’s pretty sure his heart rate is low and slow again, Ian picks up a toaster and rips the cord off it. “Let me be clear about something,” he says, as if he’s telling Colby facts he hasn’t considered. “The FBI, the marshals, they put me in this situation.” He sounds very sure about that, his voice bitter, as he strips the rubber off the wires.

“Ian.” Colby wants to sigh but he scoffs instead. Ian’s clearly not in the mood to be placated or even soothed. “I always knew you were a nine ball, but, you know, I considered your track record, I figured it was okay.” He watches Ian start winding some of the cord’s wires around a fork. “Let me ask you something. How many HRTs have you been on?”

Ian walks to the door and wedges the fork under it. “Fifty-seven.”

“And how many times did the perp wind up in jail?”

“Forty-one.” Ian loops the other half of the live end of the cord around the door knob.

“What happened the other sixteen times, Ian?” Colby asks as Ian plugs the cord into a wall outlet.

Ian stands and takes the gun out of his waistband, eyes Colby with resignation on his face. “I had to clean my gun when I got home.”

Colby nods. He’s made his point.

#

Ian paces. It feels like at least an hour before he speaks again, although it can’t be. “There’s two things you’ve got to understand about me, Granger. Number one, I didn’t kill Costello.”

Colby never thought he did, doesn’t think so now. He also thinks that Ian should know that already. “And two?” This distance Ian’s putting between them is weird; it’s like they haven’t spent months exchanging emails, let alone sharing real things that matter, building something important.

“There’s no way I’m going to jail,” Ian says, as if that’s another fact Colby doesn’t already know. 

Colby thinks Ian would get shivved within hours of landing in jail, and he wonders again why the marshals brought him to prison instead of making room in a detention center. “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you’re already here,” he says.

Ian makes a snarky face at him, unimpressed, and walks away.

Colby closes his eyes again and tries to think.

#

Ian’s pacing the room, rolling his neck, and Colby watches. He’s trying to find his Ian in those prison issued scrubs but apparently he’s been replaced by a stranger. Time is dragging and Colby’s trying to sort out what everyone’s doing at this point, where Don is, where David is—what avenues they’re exploring. 

When the phone rings Ian stalks over to answer it. “I’ll keep it simple. A G5 fueled on the tarmac at LAX and a Beatles reunion.”

Colby rolls his eyes and enjoys the little hit of relief. That Ian, the snarky one, that’s the one he knows. Okay. Ian’s not insane, he’s just playing a part. Colby needs to figure out what part, and why.

Colby can hear David’s voice through the headset; Ian’s allowing him that, angling the phone just enough. “I want to know what I have to do to get my partner out of there safely.”

“There’s only Paul and Ringo, shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Yeah, you want to play around? I got twenty marshals out here itching to turn this into a bloodbath, okay?” David isn’t in the mood for snark, apparently.

Ian’s face goes hard again and Colby watches him fall back into this role he’s playing. “Get me Professor Eppes on a video feed in the next twenty minutes.”

Colby bites his tongue, literally. Bringing Charlie in is something Don will need to deal with, in terms of working this mess. Colby will have to deal with Ian about bringing in Charlie this way at a later date. Firmly. Some things are just not done.

David doesn’t commit. He says, “I need to know that Colby’s all right.”

“He’s fine. And as long as no one does anything stupid like a crisis entry, which I’m sure the marshals are pushing for, he’ll stay that way.”

There’s a pause and then a different voice comes through. “Ian. It’s me.”

#

Ian immediately turns away and the angle of the phone changes. Colby’s stuck with only one side of the conversation, and he’s fascinated by how uncomfortable Ian is. “Betancourt. It’s been a while since I’ve heard your voice.”

Colby’s a little relieved that Ian’s using her last name, too. It means that the distance he’s creating is across the board. Or, conversely, maybe Ian never got around to calling Nikki by her first name. Colby tries to remember. 

“Yeah, uh, fugitive hunt in the Abajo Mountains. Cellphone service really sucked.” Well, that sounds like a relationship that didn’t take flight. Colby ponders that instead of his own relationship with Ian. It’s easier.

There’s a pause and then Ian turns to face Colby. He looks pissed again as he stalks forward, staring at Colby. “I’ll tell you what will make me happy is to have my friends trust me.”

Colby stares back. That one hurts. How the hell could Ian think that Colby didn’t trust him, before the whole gun-to-head thing? It’s like being taken out at the knees, that Ian would think Colby wouldn’t believe him, wouldn’t trust him.

Ian turns away again, talking to Nikki. “Really? That’s why you’re keeping me on the phone—so the marshals can find a way to take me out!” He’s yelling by the end of the sentence.

Nikki says something and Ian replies, agitated and loud. “I spent my career putting my ass on the line, thinking it’ll make a difference, and how does the Bureau repay me? By putting me behind bars! By believing scum like Salazar!” He’s pacing again, animated. Prowling. “Yeah, sure they haven’t,” Ian says, staring at Colby again, still yelling. “If Charlie’s not on my computer screen in the next nineteen minutes it’s going to get real messy in here.” He hangs up the phone with a slam and stands there, fierce, intense, and barely controlled.

Colby watches him and wonders if maybe he actually is in danger here. Ice starts to flow through his blood, finally, finally, letting him go cold. There’s space in the cold, away from his far too intense feelings for this man. Space for Colby to investigate.

#

Colby runs through scenarios and outcomes faster than he could ever verbalize them. It’s instinct, it’s years of experience. He follows a set of variables and comes to logical outcomes, illogical outcomes; he changes a variable and follows that.

He wonders if this is what Charlie does with math, just knows things at a base level so well that some facts are just part of blood and bone.

Right now, with Ian acting the way he is, Colby’s starting to lean into less than ideal scenarios, and in the very worst of them Charlie bears witness to the destruction.

Colby shoves the thought aside as unhelpful and watches Ian prowl the room again, looking at shelves and into cupboards. “Um. Can you fill me in on this CI you didn’t kill? What’s the story—Don didn’t have time to give me a proper rundown before you turned this into a manhunt in a rat maze.”

Ian double checks that the computer on the table is on and awake, then walks over to the counter to yank another power cord out of another appliance. He looks at Colby for a long moment and then nods. “The CI was a guy named Costello. He’s been feeding me intel on a big drug operation being run from inside here. A con named Salazar is in charge. We’ve been trying to shut him down for ages—the FBI, the marshals, everyone. I’m the one who arrested Salazar and put him inside in the first place. About a month ago his bookkeeper escaped from here. The bookkeeper, Garcia, was the key to getting to Salazar.”

“Okay.” Colby nods, following along. “Salazar’s in here, Garcia was but isn’t now. Why did Costello get popped?”

“He was going to give me Garcia’s location.” Ian holds up the cord. “Are you going to be good for me?”

Colby sighs. It’s not possible for him to disable Ian, not with his arms wrapped around a post, and there wouldn’t be a benefit to trying to take Ian’s legs out from under him. Ian would be pissed off and the chances of him lashing out at Colby would skyrocket. “Go ahead.”

Ian crouches next to him and ties his feet together with the cord, hobbling him. Colby’s not sure why, exactly, but he stands still and lets Ian do what Ian’s going to do. 

#

He’s still there, down at Colby’s feet, when Charlie’s voice comes through the computer. “Hey, Ian?”

Colby swallows hard, looking toward the computer on the table. He can’t see the screen.

Ian gets up and goes to the laptop. “Sorry to drag you into this, professor, but I need your skills.”

Colby stays still, resists the useless urge to lean over to see Charlie.

“Listen,” Charlie says. “I need to ask you about Colby. How’s he doing?”

“Here.” Ian turns the computer and then Colby’s looking at Charlie. He’s at the office, sitting at what’s probably Don’s desk. He looks worried, but calm, and he doesn’t give a visible reaction to seeing Colby cuffed to a post.

Colby tries for a reassuring tone. “Everything’s going to be fine, Charlie. Just listen to what he’s got to say, all right?”

Ian whips the monitor back before Charlie can reply. “Satisfied?”

“Yeah.” Charlie takes a breath. “And, uh, how are you doing, Ian?”

“Oh, fine.” Ian’s shaking his head and is clearly out of what little patience he’s had. “Except for the fact that I’ve been set up for a murder I didn’t commit and I’m looking at a trip to the death chamber, how about you?”

“Surprisingly nervous.” Colby can’t hear anything but truth there, and he hopes Ian does, too.

“Find your zen quickly, you’re the only one who can help me out here.” He’s dropped the sarcasm. Ian’s always spoken more gently to Charlie than to almost everyone else, outside of dark living rooms. “Salazar was afraid that Garcia was going to testify against him so he ordered him to be whacked, but Garcia escaped before the job got done.”

“Escaped felons—isn’t that what they pay you to do?”

Ian’s not impressed with Charlie’s attempt at humor. “Ha!” He paces away from the computer. “Outside, Garcia had nowhere to turn for money but Salazar’s people. He wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes. But inside the jail, that would be the perfect place for him to hide until he could talk to the cops and guarantee protection for himself.”

“You think Garcia is hiding in the prison system.” Charlie’s suddenly less nervous sounding. Colby can picture his face, the look in his eye as he’s drawn in, intrigued by the puzzle.

“Using someone else’s identity.” Ian nods. “What I was trying to tell your brother,” he points out, and Colby knows he’s talking to Don, who has to be right there next to Charlie. Ian grabs a table knife from a nearby counter. “The prisoners all wear ID bracelets,” he says as he slices through the one on his own wrist. “Easy enough to get off. And once you do, you’re lost in the system.”

“How many prisoners are there?”

“Six thousand.”

There’s a slight pause as the number sinks in. “Okay, now I understand why you called me. You’re talking about a longitudinal socializing process as it applies to the prison population.” Charlie’s in the game now, for sure. Colby feels a few of the more violent outcomes slip away.

Ian nods. “Sounds complex.”

“It’s very.”

“Well, hopefully not too complex, because Colby’s really counting on you to get the right answer.” He turns his head to stare at Colby, and Colby stares back. 

#

Colby waits until Charlie’s signed off and Ian’s moved away from the computer before he says, “That was pretty low. I don’t appreciate you using me as a threat against Charlie.” He keeps his voice calm, controlled. “Isn’t it enough that one of us has trauma nightmares all the time?”

Ian flinches and turns his back but doesn’t say anything.

“You know us better than anyone,” Colby tells him, nearly desperate to reach the man he knows instead of this stranger. “You know Charlie’s going to do everything he can to help you. We both are. Same as you’d do for us.”

Ian turns then, his face completely blank. “Shut up.”

Colby reaches for something he knows will touch bone. “How’s Mike’s leg? I haven’t heard from—”

“Shut up!” Ian’s mask slips to rage.

Colby shuts up. Apparently, there’s a trigger there. He just doesn’t know for what, yet.

#

Ian stops pacing for a while and leans on the wall, looking at the door to the room. Colby keeps an eye on him and hopes to God that Charlie’s getting somewhere. Ian’s fraying and Colby still doesn’t know what’s going on. There’s two issues in the room with them, and Colby can’t help with the drug lord and murder case—that’s for David and Don to work out. All Colby’s got a chance with is Ian’s weirdness with him and Charlie. For now, though, he’s going to have to follow Ian’s lead, and that means pretending they’re barely more than acquaintances. It’s like the last year and more never happened for Ian, or at least Ian’s pretending that’s true.

After a few long minutes of studying the only door to the room, Ian moves. He grabs the table Colby used to climb to the vent and tips it on its side, then drags it over to block the door. As a barrier, it’s not super effective, but it’ll at least cause someone to trip, maybe. Then Ian pauses to stare at the vending machine, right next to the door. He glances back at Colby before he gives the machine a solid kick.

Ian earns a candy bar, which makes him grin, apparently delighted.

Colby just shakes his head. His back hurts from standing in one place so long, and his heart hurts because they’re there at all. It’s hard to find delight right now.

#

Ian opens the chocolate bar and takes a bite. Then he makes a face. “Stale.” He walks around in front of Colby and sits down, gun in his lap and candy in hand, nice and relaxed for the first time since he’d pounced on Colby.

“Hey.” Colby shifts a little, tries to get more comfortable. “I know how you could get yourself a nice hot pizza.”

Ian smiles up at him. “Sorry, but you’re worth a little more to me than that.” The look he gives Colby is the warmest yet, but it’s nowhere near the heat that Colby’s become accustomed to. 

Colby’s brain skitters, though, darts off to a place where Ian details just how much Colby is worth. He doesn’t ask for those details, not in the depressing reality they’re currently occupying. He’s not going to risk setting Ian off again.

“I could’ve gone for Eppes,” Ian says. “But you know what it’s like.” The warmth is completely gone again.

Confused, Colby tries to follow Ian’s line of thought, but he’s got nothing. “I know what it’s like, how?”

Ian gives him a casual shrug. “Everyone in the FBI thought you were a spy for the Chinese. The one man who could prove your innocence was dead. I mean, hell, even your partner thought you were guilty.”

#

Once, when Colby was surfing, he was swept off his board by a new surfer who’d jumped in when he had no business being there. The kid didn’t know any better, but Colby hadn’t seen him coming, hadn’t seen him approach at all. All Colby knew was that he was riding a wave and then he was under, his breath punched out of him and all of his connections to his senses snapped. It was terrifying—the confusion, the adrenaline, the loss of all control as he surrendered his body to the ocean.

This is different only because Colby’s made a choice to follow Ian’s lead. So while his body leans on the post to keep his feet under him (his hobbled feet cuffed hands broken heart), his mouth says, “This is nothing like what I went through. If you’re waiting on the Stockholm syndrome to kick in it’s going to be a long night. If I get a hold of that gun I won’t hesitate to take you out.”

Ian nods like that’s exactly what he expected Colby to say and that’s even worse than the saying of it.

#

Colby waits himself out. He thinks about everything Nick’s taught him, and he uses those tools to bring his heart rate down. He thinks about everything the army taught him, and he pushes all of his emotions away and locks them in a box. He thinks about everything the FBI has taught him, and he starts to go over everything Ian’s said to him and match them up with Ian’s physical reactions, what little emotion he’s leaked.

Ian stands up, alert, and Colby pays attention. There’s quick dancing footsteps in the hall—the marshals are approaching. Ian watches the door, gun in hand, his body tight. Colby looks at the door as well, looks at the wire that Ian’s got rigged to the cord that’s plugged into the wall, and to the fork that completes the circuit.

Galvin’s voice yelps as sparks fly around the knob and the skittering footsteps hurry away again.

Ian laughs and catches Colby looking at him. He shrugs, almost apologetically. “Eh, it was just a few volts, enough to send a message.”

“Yeah? What message is that? I’m a sociopath who enjoys hurting people?” Colby doesn’t mean to engage, but he’s tired and he hasn’t figured out what’s going on yet, and this man in front of him is still Ian, still someone Colby loves, despite the mask. He wants Charlie. He hates doing this alone, hates being on his own.

#

Ian gives him a long look, then pulls a chair around so Colby can sit down. “I always liked you, Granger. Served in the military, not afraid to mix it up. We’re not so different.”

Colby eases down in the chair, his knees and hips protesting, and tries to file this interaction. Ian’s still pretending. Fine. “Really? Because from where I’m sitting I’d say we are.” Certainly different from what they were a couple of weeks ago.

“Just the facts, ma’am, huh?”

Colby nods and rests his head on the post, hums in agreement. If they’re strangers now, maybe it’s time to start rebuilding, start sharing again. He offers up a piece of himself. “Dragnet. I used to love that show. It’s what made me want to become a cop.”

Ian smiles and it’s a real one, with warm eyes and a quirk to his upper lip. Colby files that, too. “I bet it did,” Ian says. “The beginning, when Joe Friday’s describing Los Angeles? Shots of the beautiful women on the beach?”

Colby shakes his head, because that’s not the part that appealed to him. “No. The end. When the prisoner would hold up his plaque for the mug shot and the announcer would tell you his sentence.” When the good guys won.

Ian looks away, and his smile fades. “Charlie won’t let me down.”

Colby closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how to reach Ian, doesn’t know how to get to the surface. This isn’t working. 

“It’s possible you don’t have all the facts.” Ian says.

“What exactly is it you expect he’s going to find?” Colby asks, looking at Ian.

Ian looks away, won’t meet his gaze. “You know, Joe Friday never actually said that line. But enough people repeat something, and soon enough it becomes the truth. It doesn’t mean it’s right.”

#

“Yeah, I know.” Colby shakes his head. “I wasn’t a spy, no matter what anyone said, and you’re not a murderer, and you’re also not someone who’s cruel. Current situation aside.”

Ian stares at him. “You want to stop talking now.”

“Just know this.” Colby waits but Ian doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t look away. “You holding a gun to my head, me telling Don to take the shot? I’m putting that down to our training and you doing what you think needs doing, even if I haven’t worked out why, yet. I’m prepared to let it go if you are, and we can move past that. Soldiers. It’s done.” He takes a breath, makes sure Ian’s paying close attention, and says, “But if you ever, ever use David or my trauma like that again, we can’t come back from it. Full stop. I cried on you, Ian, and I gave you everything, every fragment of my pain. Using it like you just did is disgusting. Vile. Don’t do it again.”

Ian closes his eyes and turns his head away, but not before Colby gets a good look at shame and regret.

#

Colby gives him a minute. He wants Ian to crack, not break, but when the phone rings Colby curses at himself. After the stunt with the door the marshals are going to be pissed and Colby knows that—he should have waited until after they phoned in before he pushed Ian. Now it’s too late.

Ian grabs the phone before it can ring again. “Find him?”

It’s David’s voice. “We’re having some problems. Charlie needs some more time.”

It’s too soon after Colby pushed. Ian shoves his gun toward Colby’s face and yells, “You are going to make me hurt this man to prove my point!” and instead of hanging up, he drops the receiver.

Colby watches Ian and the gun but all he can hear is David on the other end of the line, calling to them. “Ian, don’t. Ian? Ian?”

#

Ian goes back and hangs up the phone after David breaks the connection. Then he sits and holds the gun in both hands, his face buried in his forearms, breathing hard.

Colby looks at him. They’re running out of time. The marshals are going to breach and it’s going to go very, very badly. Before that happens, Colby needs to figure out what the hell is going on, decide if it can be fixed. He and Charlie, they were so sure. The house, their babies, all of it. He can’t walk away from this on his own, and Charlie isn’t there to help fix it. It’s up to him.

“You know,” he says, watching Ian, “when I was, like, twelve there was this kid, Ricky Caroll, the bully who used to terrorize the neighborhood.”

Ian lifts his head and glances over.

“So one day me and my friend, we hid out and waited for him, and jumped him.”

“And?” Ian asks, his sarcasm and irritation firmly back in place.

“And we beat the crap out of him.” Colby shrugs. “Then I got home and I told my dad what happened and he beat the crap out of me and said it’s better to fail with honor than to win by cheating.”

Ian deflates. “You think I should just quit? Trust my fate to a jury?”

“I’d rather see you have your day in court alive than have to stand at your funeral, Ian. Why don’t you let me help you the right way?”

Ian sighs. “You see the way I live. I can carry my life in a backpack. My idea of five star hotel is an insulated sleeping bag and a waterproof tent. What the hell would I even do with five hundred thousand dollars? Have you even taken a moment to think about that?”

#

Colby stares at him and suddenly he just can’t play this game of Ian’s any longer. Anger and frustration boil up inside him, hot and fierce, and his control splinters, shatters. He yells, “Have I thought about that? Of course I have, you idiot! How can you possibly think I haven’t? How can you even pretend to yourself that I don't know all about your life and what you do and don’t need? I know you don’t need money, but you do need the hunt. You don’t need an apartment, but you do need Mike. You don’t need possessions, but you do need freedom. How can you think for one minute that I would believe you deserve to be here?”

Ian rocks back, his face going pale.

“What I can’t figure out is why you don’t trust me the way I trust you. You don’t need anything or anyone, but you drop everything and come when I need you. You call Charlie when you need a chess game in your head to calm you down, and you give up your bed when we arrive in Montreal—” Colby stops dead and Ian paces away, not looking at him. “Oh, you absolute asshole,” Colby whispers as it falls into place. “Is this what you did to Weston? Is this why you needed Charlie’s help to fix it?”

Ian spins around, gun waving again. “Stop it. You don’t know shit about it.”

Colby stands up, fast, and the chair flies back, crashes behind him. “You pushed him away when you realized how much he means to you. You said or did something absolutely vile to make him go away and it worked, but you still needed him. Like you need us.”

“Shut up.” Ian storms forward, his voice a hiss.

“When we went to Montreal it scared the crap out of you, didn't it? It means we care about you just as much as you care about us, and that made it real, so real you had to kill it before you can get hurt.”

Ian stares at him, his eyes wide.

Colby stares back, finally surfacing, finally calm and knowing what to do in this ocean. “The thing is, Ian, we’ve talked about this. Me and Charlie. We’ve talked about you and what we want, what the three of us can have. We talked about loving you.”

#

Ian backs up. “Shut up. Don’t do this.”

“This isn’t the ideal setting, no.” Colby looks around. Certainty is washing over him and he lets it, for now. “We planned to talk to you at my place, actually. No Alan or Don to interrupt, and my bed handy if you wanted to accept the offer then and there. Obviously, Charlie would’ve been there, too, and he’s definitely not here.”

Ian paces again, striding through the room as best he can. “Stop.” He stares at Colby. “This is to get back at me for what I said about David.”

Colby shakes his head. “I already had my say about that. Do it again and we’re finished.”

“Then what is this?” Ian demands, and if Colby thought Ian was fraying before he’s shattered now, but anchored in the cement of his convictions.

“Exactly what you think—what you want so bad it’s scared the crap out of you. Charlie and I are crazy about you, and we have a life we want to share with you, on your terms. It’s not a trap. But it’s also not what you need to be thinking about right now, since the marshals are probably coming for your ass. What I need, Ian, is for you to stop being an insecure dick for the next few hours so we can get out of here alive. Then we can sort out our love life. Charlie will kill me if I don’t keep you out of jail.”

#

The phone rings and they both stare at it. Colby’s impressed with the timing; he isn’t sure he can snap Ian out of the emotional roller coaster Colby started by accident.

Ian takes the call, almost snatching up the receiver. “I better hear Garcia’s voice on the other end of this phone.” He’s pressed the handset close to his ear and Colby can’t hear who he’s talking to, but it doesn’t matter. Ian holds out the phone so Colby can speak and they can both hear. “It’s David.”

“Still alive,” Colby says. His heart is racing, but he’s alive. 

“We found Garcia. He’s in maximum security, so it’s going to take us a few minutes to get to him. Maybe in the meantime I could send you guys in some food. Some Italian, you know, maybe some Mexican.”

Colby closes his eyes in a long, slow blink.

“No food, just Garcia, five minutes,” Ian snaps before hanging up. “Garcia got himself transferred to maximum security.”

“He must’ve been really afraid of Salazar,” Colby says. He’s doing some fast math in his head. Ian’s focused on the case again, which is good. David used the distress word, which is bad. Colby figures he’s got two minutes to get this situation under control.

“He could’ve figured out a way to get to a cell block Salazar didn’t control. He picked a spot that no one can get to.”

“A place that’s being watched twenty-four seven,” Colby says, following Ian’s logic.

“Salazar can’t operate without help inside the jail.” Now Ian’s dropping breadcrumbs.

Colby picks them up. “A marshal.” Ian wasn’t just trying to stop Salazar, he was also trying to find the mole. More fucking spy shit, just what Colby has been hoping for. Nick is going to love this.

“Garcia knew all along who, but Costello was killed before he could give me the exact location.” 

Colby sees the light. “You let yourself be arrested.” He set the whole thing up after Costello died. All of it, except maybe using Colby as his hostage. That part isn’t going so well.

“I had to get in here. It was my best chance to find Garcia.”

“It was crazy, man.” Colby decides to address the trust issues later. Alone with Ian and possibly some form of flat implement. Either that or suggest they go to see Dr. Drescher together because this is a deep well that he’s tapping into.

“I needed Charlie’s help,” Ian says, as if it’s a reasonable explanation, as if he wouldn’t have had Charlie’s help if he’d just asked for it. “If I would’ve rabbited no one would’ve listened to a fugitive. Five more minutes. Five more minutes and Garcia will give us Salazar’s partner.”

Colby shakes his head. “We may not have that much time. The bit about the food—Mexico, it’s me and David’s distress word. That means Thompson’s getting ready to breach.”

Ian stares at him, brow furrowed as he thinks, “So you gotta ask yourself, Granger, why is Thompson pushing to make entry? Why wouldn’t he at least listen to what Garcia has to say?” Colby starts nodding as Ian talks. He gets it, he’s right there with Ian. “He wants to protect himself and now he’s got to kill me.”

The lights go out and red emergency lights come on. Without hesitation, Ian pulls out the keys to Colby’s cuffs and releases his hands. Colby drops down to free his feet from the electrical cord and when he stands Ian holds out Colby’s gun.

“Just the facts,” Ian says.

Colby nods. “Just the facts.” He takes the gun and Ian turns, allows Colby to wrap a restraining arm around him. “I expect you at my apartment tonight, when you get out of here,” he says into Ian’s ear. “Be there, or there’s no fixing this. We need you, Ian—me and Charlie, we want you. This is your chance. Don’t fuck it up.”

Ian looks at him over his shoulder, his eyes wide again, his expression stunned. “What?”

“Yes or no. It’s up to you.”

Ian blinks and his body goes tight against Colby’s as the marshals breach.

Chapter Text

The dust from the breach is literally still falling from Colby’s hair to his shoulders when David shoves a cell phone into his hand. “Here,” David says. “Tell him you’re okay.”

Colby takes the phone. “Charlie?”

“Are you all right? Is Ian?” He sounds urgent but not panicked.

Part of Colby is sad that Charlie’s getting used to this level of stress, but most of him is freaking delighted Charlie asked about Ian because it gives him the perfect excuse to say, a little too loudly, “He’s fine. Ian’s fine, I promise.” He looks toward where David and Ian are talking with the marshals about Ian’s custody. Ian’s head snaps around to stare at him. “We’re both alive and whole. It’ll be okay now.”

“God, okay. Okay, good.” Charlie exhales and Colby can almost feel the tension drain from him. “Is he there?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure you can talk to him.”

Ian shakes his head, his eyes wide, and Colby’s not surprised that he wants to avoid talking to Charlie. 

“He’s not in cuffs but he’s still in custody,” Colby adds in case Charlie wants to argue with him.

“Sure, okay. That makes sense. It’s stupid, but I get it.”

David is still speaking with Thompson and it looks like David’s winning whatever argument they’re having. Finding out that his girl Galvin was on the take and set up a prisoner to be murdered in the maximum security unit has taken the wind from Thompson’s sails.

“He’s going to have to wait for a judge to wake up and sign off on his release, then he’ll be processed out of here. It’ll take a few more hours, I bet, then he’ll have to go to the office to start paperwork—it’s going to be a nightmare. Where are you?” Colby wants to leave this room, wants to be out of the building. He’s spent hours tethered here, and there’s far, far too much going on his mind to be able to stand still. He wants Charlie, and it’ll be hours before he can have him.

“I’m leaving the federal building, I’m on my way to the prison.”

#

Colby takes a breath and turns away from Ian and David. “All right, good,” he says more quietly. “Listen to me, I need something. We do. It’s weird.”

“Anything. What? What’s weird? Aside from everything.”

“We need to talk, just you and me. I probably won’t see you here—I have to go back to the office. It was a hostage situation, I’ve got paperwork like you wouldn’t believe, maybe more than Ian, even.” Plus he needs to touch base with David, and eat something, and he’d start a fist fight with anyone standing between him and a shower. “Take Don home and get some rest, but can you come to my place later? I need to go to work, I need to sleep, and I need you at my place, late this afternoon. Can you? I’ll tell you everything then. There’s stuff you need to know.” He knows it’s an understatement, but if he starts telling Charlie even a little bit of it everything will spill out in a messy tangle.

“Yes, of course,” Charlie says. Then there’s a long pause. “Did you… did you two hurt each other?” He somehow manages to make it sound completely plausible and deeply disappointing at the same time.

Colby closes his eyes and exhales a long sigh. He turns back to face the room again. “Things were said that you need to know about. I think it’s fixable.” He watches Ian as David gets ready to lead him out of the room and raises his voice again. “It’s up to Ian at this point.”

Ian hears him, stares at him, and David urges him forward. Just as he clears the door, Ian nods. 

He’ll be there.

#

Colby follows everyone out of the room, his knees practically singing with the relief of walking. He’s sore all over from standing in one place for so long, and his shoulders ache. They go into a room near the command center where they’re greeted by Don, Nikki, and a lot of prison officials. Colby slides in along the wall and catches Don’s eye.

Don nods at him and walks over. “Hey, good job in there. How are you doing?”

Colby makes a face. “Fine. The report will be as boring as I can make it, promise. Listen, I talked to Charlie—he’s on his way over here. Do us all a favor and keep him away from Ian until I get a chance to talk to him? He asked if Ian was okay right off, but he didn’t say anything about Ian threatening me or using me to make him work faster.”

Don looks over at Ian, who’s currently focused on the prison officials. “Oh yeah, man,” he says ruefully. “I’m way ahead of you. Charlie’s got a fuse and Ian well and truly lit it.” He looks at Colby out of the corner of his eye and smirks a little. “It would be something to see, though. Charlie, taking a swing at Edgerton.”

Colby rolls his eyes. “In about five years I’ll tell both of them you said that.”

Don laughs then gives Colby a longer look. He drops his voice. “How about you and Ian? You were in there a long time, and I know you guys are friendly. Were friendly.”

Colby pushes away from the wall. “It’s fine. We had a lot of time to talk. We’re good.” White lies to his almost-brother are okay, Colby decides. They have to be until at least tomorrow.

“All right.” Don nods and looks like he’s about to ask something else but decides not to. “David,” he says instead, louder. “Take Colby and get out of here. Get some rest, and I’ll check in with you later.”

#

Colby walks with David down the corridor and out the door into the sunshine of early morning. The relief of being out of that break room is a living thing inside of him, making him giddy. “Wow,” he says to the sky. He glances at David. “Took you long enough.” They both brush yet more dust off their clothes.

David rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. None of this would’ve happened if you didn’t fight like a girl.”

Colby laughs, his heart swelling with the perfect normalcy of the teasing. This is exactly the kind of touching base he needs. “Come on, if anybody acted like a girl in there it was you. You should’ve heard yourself on that phone.” He squares his shoulders and does his best David impression. “You’re all ‘I just want to make sure my partner’s all right in there’. Downright embarrassing.” He can’t stop smiling.

“If I let you die, you know the kind of paperwork I’m going to have to fill out?” David shakes his head. “I can just kiss my promotion goodbye.”

Colby groans as they get to the car and he looks up at the sky yet again. “Now, this feels good.”

“Guess you won’t mind driving then, right?” David slaps the car key to his chest and grins.

It’s nice to be out of the prison.

#

He drives the car back to the motor pool but David doesn’t want to let him go up to the office. “Colby. I know it was a long night but do you really think you’ll forget details for the report in the time it’ll take you to shower and get some sleep?”

“No, of course not. But Charlie’s coming over later, and Ian. I want the paperwork out of the way before I referee that particular conversation.” He also wants time to think, and to talk to Charlie first.

David stares at him for a long moment. “One, good luck. Charlie’s plucky when he’s pissed off and he’s got reason to be. And two, is there something you want to tell me?”

Colby shakes his head and starts walking. He needs to be in the locker room immediately; he stinks. “Not really.” He’s more tired than he thought—he hadn’t noticed David noticing. “There’s nothing to tell yet. Maybe never, who knows? Things are pretty fucked up at the moment, but I want to fix it.”

David comes along, looking worried. “Man, you do know how to pick your moments, don’t you?”

“Ian picked it.” Colby’s going to insist on that point. “Charlie and I had a whole other plan, but this is what we’ve got.”

David stays quiet until they get to the locker room and start stripping off their dusty clothes. Then he looks around to make sure they’re alone. They’re not, there’s a steady stream of people stepping in and out, getting ready for the day. “Call me if you need me,” David finally says. Then he heads to the shower.

#

Colby writes his report and makes it boring, leaves out anything personal. No one needs to know what he and Ian talked about outside of the case. It’s surprising how quickly he finishes; there’s entire sections of the forms he doesn’t have to fill in, and there’s whole new ones he’s never seen before, because Ian is FBI and Colby’s not pressing charges.

“Here you go,” he says to David as he drops the printed copies onto his desk. “Anything else?”

“Nah, you’re all done, man.” David looks up at him and smiles. “You still fight like a girl.”

Colby grins. “And I won’t forget how you checked up on me.”

A chorus of female agents saying, “Aw,” makes them both scowl, but Megan and Liz don’t seem intimidated at all. Nikki isn’t even really paying attention, she’s so deep in her own report. She’s got a pencil stuck in her hair, and that’s a look Colby’s never seen before.

Colby grabs his jacket. “See you guys tomorrow.” He puts his phone in his pocket before an idea comes to him, rising insistent and bright rather than merely occurring. He takes his phone out again and looks at it. “Actually, I’m going to make a quick call before I head out.”

#

The nearest empty conference room is private enough, and really there’s no reason not to just call from his car, but now that the idea’s taken hold he knows he has to act on it quickly. Experience has taught him that if he delays even long enough to go to the garage there’s a strong chance he’ll talk himself out of it.

Colby hasn’t gotten around to putting his therapist on speed dial so he has to thumb through the contacts list to find it. It rings twice before the line is picked up, but instead of the nice, perfectly neutral lady he expected, he’s greeted by a male voice saying, “Dr. Drescher.”

Colby blinks. “It’s Colby. You’re not your receptionist.”

Nick agrees. “I am not. She’s way better at this. For one, she knows how the booking system works, so if you’re calling to reschedule I’m going to have to leave her a note to call you back. Tomorrow. I hope. How long does the flu usually last?”

“You’re the doctor, not me.” Colby pinches the bridge of his nose. This isn’t how the call was supposed to go. “The last time I had it, Don wouldn’t let me in the office for a week.”

“Oh, dear.”

Colby has sympathy but not a lot of energy left in his tank. “The good news is that I’m not calling to reschedule.”

“Excellent,” Nick says cheerfully. “That’s one thing I don’t have to learn this half hour. Why are you calling on your… it’s a little early for lunch. Coffee break?”

Colby sits down. This is going to take longer than he thought. 

#

“I was actually calling to leave a message, but I guess you can take a note for yourself.” 

“You’re in a good mood today. Hit me.”

“I’m running on no sleep and a lot of adrenaline,” Colby corrects. “I was calling to warn you that our next session will be a little intense and we might need to schedule more time. I spent last night as Ian’s hostage in a prison. He was solving a case and needed to be inside to do it, so he got himself arrested. Then he needed Charlie’s help, so he escaped. Don and I found him, he kept me. It got heated. And tonight Charlie and I are going to talk to him and see if the three of us still have a chance at a relationship together. There’s a lot going on.”

Colby has sat through a lot of Nick’s thoughtful silences, but this one is longer than most. Finally, just as Colby’s about ready to make sure they haven’t been cut off, Nick says, “I can see you today at three.”

“Not a chance.” Colby shakes his head. “I’m going home to sleep, then I’m going to see Charlie and calm him down. By then Ian will be about ready to arrive.”

“Tomorrow, ten in the morning. You can stay until noon if you need that long.”

Colby thinks. “You’re going to insist.”

“I am going to insist. Was there violence?”

“Define violence?” Colby’s not sure exactly what counts in this case. “A bit of rough and tumble when he got the drop on us, but he didn’t hit me or anything like that. Threatened it a couple of times, probably for show.”

Nick makes a grumbling sound and mumbles something about a pen being lost. “Probably for show. So no bruises on the outside?”

“Nope.”

“Were you restrained?”

Colby keeps his sigh to himself. “Yes. Handcuffs, as loose as they could be. Feet tied. I was attached to a support post.”

“Uh-huh. And was there a gun aimed at you at any point?”

Colby doesn’t say anything, but he grimaces.

“I see.” Nick doesn’t hide his own sigh. “You won’t come today?”

“No.” Colby rubs his face. “I’m okay. I really am. I want to talk this out with him tonight.”

“Where’s your head at right now?”

Colby gets up and walks to the window. He looks out at the office, watches Nikki start to pack up her things. “Is willfully dissociative a thing?”

“Intentional depersonalization absolutely is. You have to do it for your work. Is your current detachment intentional?”

Colby nods. “Yeah.” Everything is shoved into little boxes, but he knows where they are and what’s in them. It’s the opening of the boxes that might be a problem.

“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow. If you’re late, I’ll find out David’s number and get him to hunt you down for me.”

It’s an idle threat, but it makes Colby smile. “See you tomorrow.”

#

He goes home, he forgets he already had a shower until he’s already under the water again, and he sleeps. He has no idea how long he’s out for; he wakes up to the sound of Charlie swearing as he trips over a mostly empty moving box.

“Charlie?” Colby rolls over onto his back but doesn’t open his eyes.

“Sorry. Honestly, at this point you can just throw the last of your clothes in a few boxes and be done, right?” He sounds distracted, the last of his sentence muffled.

Colby blinks his eyes open and props himself up on his elbows to watch Charlie undress. There’s still sunshine coming in the window so it’s not terribly late, and there’s definitely plenty of light to get a good look at Charlie.

“Sure.” Colby grins as Charlie kicks his shoes into the hall and starts taking off his jeans. “I mean, aside from all my furniture, the kitchen stuff, pictures on the walls, my books—”

Charlie growls but then he’s naked and getting into the bed. On the bed, anyway, and dragging the comforter off Colby. “Why are you wearing clothes?”

“I didn’t expect you to be this sex-crazed, to be honest. My mistake.” Colby starts to peel off his t-shirt and boxers and Charlie tries to help, which isn’t actually very helpful but does eventually result in both of them being naked.

“Now. Lie still,” Charlie says, pressing Colby back onto the bed.

#

It takes a few minutes, and Colby’s prepared to blame it on being mostly asleep when all of this started, but he slowly realizes that what he’s experiencing isn’t a seduction but an inspection. There’s kisses and a lot of touches, but Charlie is methodically checking every inch of him for damage.

“I’m fine,” Colby whispers. “I promise, I’m fine.”

Charlie doesn’t seem to want verbal placation. “Roll over.”

Colby rolls over onto his stomach. “Honestly, there’s nothing. Sore muscles, but I do worse to myself at the gym.”

“Shh.”

Colby shushes. He accepts the kisses and lets Charlie touch him, allows Charlie to look for whatever reassurance he needs to find. After a few minutes, he decided to help. “Here, I’ll show you. Come here.” Colby rolls over again, pulls Charlie to him, and shows him his wrists. “Look. The only marks are right here, by my thumbs. The cuffs were really loose—they didn’t need to be tight to keep me in place. They just rested there for a little too long and rubbed a bit. That’s all. I didn’t even get a bruise when the marshals blew in the door.”

Charlie looks at his hands and settles next to him, their legs tangled together. “And Ian? When they went in, did they hurt him?”

Colby shakes his head. “If Ian’s got any damage he did it to himself when he was fighting the guards and escaping. That’s on him. But I didn’t see anything, and he wasn’t acting like he had so much as a strained muscle.”

“Okay. Good.” Charlie closes his eyes and curls into Colby’s side. “I’m feeling so many things. I’m relieved you’re both okay, and I’m angry, and I’m still scared. I just… I don’t know why he didn’t just tell us what he needed. Doesn’t he trust us, any of us?”

Colby kisses Charlie softly. “It’s complicated. I’m going to tell you all about it, and it’s going to take a while. Ready?”

#

It takes almost an hour for Colby to outline everything that happened, even leaving out the very worst of what Ian said to him. In direct contrast with the report he filed, he all but glosses over the case, since it’s actually only peripherally important to their issue. There are chunks of conversations that Charlie needs him to go back over and fill in with the details.

“The weirdest part was that he was sometimes right there with me,” Colby tells him. “He’d be funny, he’d look at me and grin and I’d see him. Then it was like he’d remember that he was supposed to treat me like we weren’t even friends, let alone anything more. But it was the flashes of Ian in there that showed me what he was doing.”

“And the rest of the time?” Charlie’s watching his face and Colby tries to be true, tries to be fair enough to Charlie to show him how much it hurt.

“He was acting like he did way back during the first couple of cases I worked with him. Like we were acquaintances, and not even friendly ones, just guys who work together sometimes. I played along—it gave me space to think. I shared some stuff with him, nothing big, just about a TV show I watched when I was a kid and why I wanted to be a cop. I tried to find ways to get him to engage with me. If he wanted to be strangers, I wanted to make friends.”

Charlie looks at him like he understands, both the effort and the pain. Colby’s seen Charlie this muted before and it’s disquieting. It reminds him of aching deep inside, and of how still things get just before a big storm. Charlie asks, “How did you finally get through to him?”

“That happened at the end, when I lost my temper. I just didn’t let him pretend anymore, I was yelling at him about how well I know him, and that’s when I figured out why he was doing it. Charlie, I think he really does care about us, maybe even loves us like you and I talked about, but he didn’t know that until we went to Montreal. It scared him. Maybe he’s scared that we care about him that much, maybe he just can’t believe it.”

Charlie nods. “Here’s the thing, though. After everything you went through last night, everything he put us through, do you still want to help him believe it?”

#

Colby stares at him. It hadn’t even occurred to him to drop the idea. “Charlie.” He’s not exactly sure what he’s feeling, but it’s caught his breath and made his stomach knot.

“Shh, shh. I’m just asking you. It’s not a weighted question, there’s nothing hidden.” Charlie looks at him with serious eyes, but his voice is quiet and warm, reassuring. “I need to know the facts about this. Do you still feel as strongly about Ian as you did three days ago? After he held a gun to your head. After he threatened to hurt you. After he used you to threaten me. After he made a choice not to trust you with what he was doing in the prison and why he’d gotten himself arrested. After all of that, do you still want to sit with him tonight and tell him that you love him?”

Colby, needing to move, sits up and they rearrange themselves to lean back on the headboard. Charlie pulls the comforter over them again. “Charlie, if this was too much for you, if you don’t want to try to cope with this, it’s okay.” Colby will do anything to keep Charlie from being hurt or doing something he’s not absolutely comfortable with, even if he does feel a little unmoored in the process.

Charlie shakes his head. “No, don’t do that. I want to hear what you think and feel, then we’ll get to me. I need to be crystal clear about what you want, right now, without you trying to protect me. How do you feel about Ian?”

Colby feels like he’s being dragged in too many directions, like he’s being tossed by waves and can’t find the surface. The boxes are all popping open. “I really should have gone to see Nick,” he mumbles.

“Do you want to? We can call him.” Charlie sounds completely ready to grab his own phone and make the call himself.

“I already did. I’m seeing him tomorrow morning. He knows what’s going on.” The appointment is beginning to feel a bit like a lighthouse.

“Okay.” Charlie takes his hand, threads their fingers together. “I’ll ask again. Can you tell me, please, how you feel about Ian right now? At this exact moment.”

Colby closes his eyes and breathes. “Those things you listed, most of them I understand why they happened, I get the motives. I know none of his reasons were malicious or intended specifically to hurt us. They were a means to an end.” He looks at Charlie. “I can’t say I’m cool with it, because I’m not, but he was trying to protect himself and that’s something I understand. Ian is someone I admire and respect, and I want to talk to him tonight. I want to make sure that if the three of us are never anything more than friends, if he never wants to take this thing we have any further, I want him to know that he has options and choices. And I still hope that he chooses to be with us. I love you so much, Charlie. More than anything ever in my entire life. I think I could love him like that, too. What happened last night wasn’t good and it forced me to open the door sooner than we wanted. I wanted us to do it together. But I’m not sorry the door opened.”

#

Charlie smiles at him and Colby feels a little dizzy. Charlie said it wasn’t a weighted question but he’s clearly relieved. “What’s the smile for?” Colby asks. “Specifically.”

“I thought I might be crazy for still wanting this. Don’t get me wrong—I’m pissed and he’s going to hear about it. But Ian is…” Charlie trails off for a moment and looks into the middle distance. It’s not a math trance, but it might be space for translation. “Ian is one of the very few people I’ve met as an adult, maybe the only person, who has never seen me as either a rival or a subordinate. Don’t make that face at me, you thought of me as Don’s little brother first, a handy consultant second, and then as Charlie. It’s okay.”

Colby rolls his eyes but he knows Charlie’s right.

“Ian thought I was weird, and he knew he could teach me something. He enjoyed taking my ego down a few notches. But he’s always talked to me like I’m just me. I’m not an adjunct to Don, not merely a tool, and I’m not someone Ian needs to impress for his career. I don’t need to impress him for mine. So when I started thinking about him as a way to tease you, when I could play around the edges of thinking about him sexually in a safe way, it felt good. By the time we’d become closer friends, when he helped you with your nightmares, I think I knew then that this could be something important.”

Charlie leans back into Colby, slides under his arm like he does when they watch TV. “He’s a good man,” Charlie says. “I want him. I want him to know how we feel. It’s up to him, but I’d regret it if we didn’t talk to him about it.”

Colby kisses Charlie’s hair. “I love you. I’m crazy about you.”

Charlie makes a happy sound and they sit like that for a while, letting things settle. Colby breathes and Charlie puts his hand over Colby’s heart.

#

Eventually, Charlie says, “I think I understand the plan he had, the actual murder and drug case, crazy as it was.” They’re still curled up together, although they’ve shifted down a little and adjusted the pillows for comfort. “He had to force Galvin to show her hand. But it bothers me that he didn’t just tell you that as soon as Don and the others were out of the room. You could have made a plan together, could have made me understand, somehow. And he definitely didn’t need to keep you in cuffs all night.”

“I know.” Colby smooths his hand down Charlie’s arm. “I told you why. I really, really need you to understand what he tried to do, Charlie. He discovered emotions he wasn’t ready for and he tried to run from them the only way he knows how. I don’t think he intended for me to be the hostage at all, but he couldn’t get to Don, not the way it happened. I think he would have done just about anything to avoid it being me, really.”

“Because he didn’t want to see you. Or me, really, but he needed the math. For once, he needed me to be a tool.” Charlie looks at him with sad eyes. “He hadn’t figured out yet how to create distance between him and us, and he had to break the connection quickly. He panicked.”

Colby nods. “He trapped himself with me. I think if this case hadn’t brought him here he would’ve just eased away, if he could. Stopped emailing, stopped staying at the house, been too busy for team poker games. Gone on a long fugitive hunt in the Abajo Mountains.”

Charlie breathes deeply. “Now what? Do you think he’ll stop being scared when he believes that we care back?”

“Eventually, if we argue our side long enough. But even if he believes us tonight he’ll be nervous for a while.”

“Yeah.” He gives Colby a long look. “He did some shitty things last night, and I am actually very angry. He fought dirty, without any hesitation.”

“I know. I called him on the two things that are dealbreakers. He knows the lines, now.” 

#

The assessing look becomes more curious. “Which two?”

Colby phrases his reply carefully. “Using me as leverage to threaten you—he’s capable of extrapolating that to a wider circle, he’s not an idiot. We do not use each other as bait or leverage, and definitely not against each other. The other one I’m not going to tell you about. It’s for me to forgive, and you don’t need to know the details.”

Charlie’s eyebrows go up. “That isn’t exactly the way to keep me from being curious. It must have been really bad, too. Worse than threatening you in front of me.”

Colby wonders if Charlie would let himself be seduced as a form of distraction and figures that would just make him more determined to poke at it. “I promise you, when I told him that if he ever did it again there would be no coming back, he believed me. I saw the regret and shame on his face; he won’t do it again.”

Still frowning, Charlie says, “I don’t like not knowing, but I trust you to handle it. Can you forgive it?”

“I already did. It just needs some punctuation to close the file— I think that we’ll talk about it and he’ll apologize. I need that, and he does, too.”

#

They lie in bed for a while and Colby starts checking the time. He’s not sure when Ian will show up, but he’s fairly sure it won’t be early. Ian’ll put it off until he has to show up or lose them by default. “Are you hungry?” Colby asks. “We have time to cook if you want.”

Charlie shakes his head. “Not right now.” He moves, untangles himself from Colby’s arms and legs. “I’m really, really glad that you both walked out of there.”

Colby nods and watches as Charlie leans over and opens the drawer of the nightstand. “Me, too.”

“I’m also really glad that you told Ian, no matter how rushed and inelegantly, that he has a place with us if he wants it.” Charlie comes back with the lube. “And, finally, I’m really glad that you gave us a chance at convincing him of that tonight.”

“You said that already. I’m glad you’re glad.” Colby shifts as Charlie nudges his hip. “What are we doing here?” Usually, Charlie just climbs on top of him if he wants to mess around, or mouths his way down to Colby’s dick. This is something with purpose, and Colby is certainly not objecting.

“Let’s call it an indulgence.” 

Charlie lies down with him, facing him, just as they were after Charlie inspected him. Their legs are slotted together, Colby’s got an arm under Charlie and an arm free. Neither of them is more than half-hard, but Colby thinks that’s about to change. “What are we indulging?”

Charlie leans forward just enough to kiss him, slow and wet and dirty. “Our imaginations. If he says no, if we have to let him go tonight, I’m never, ever going to get the chance to hear you talk to me about sucking him off.”

#

Colby has had many moments in his life when he couldn’t breathe, and only a small minority of those were because of something good or fun. Of those, almost all were caused by Charlie. “You want me to talk about sex with Ian?” And there goes his cock, filling and encouraging.

“I want you to indulge me.” Charlie’s voice is quiet, a low rumble against Colby’s neck. “Tell me about you. About you thinking about him. Where are you?” His hand snakes down between them, between Colby’s legs to cup his balls and he starts dragging his teeth over Colby’s clavicle.

“Jesus.” Colby takes a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I mean, I usually don’t actually—”

“You repress. I know.” The hand squeezes gently. “But I know you have passing thoughts. Where?”

Colby shifts his leg in hopes of giving Charlie enough room to do more. “In the shower. Usually.”

Charlie laughs but he also starts to trace Colby’s cock with his fingertips. “What do you see? Do you imagine him on his knees? You? Am I there?”

Colby closes his eyes. “Yeah. It’s just… flashes. You’re the one who goes full-on fantasy with plot lines, and themes, and motifs. I just think about Ian’s hand down my jeans while he’s making out with you. Or grinding on him on my couch, or in the garage or something.” He sucks in air as Charlie bites down. “You… I think about you. Watching you.”

“Watching me what?” Charlie’s fingers curl around Colby’s erection and Colby opens his eyes. “Tell me.”

Colby rolls away just enough to give Charlie enough room to jack him. “Watching you make out with him,” Colby whispers. “You kissing him, his hands on you.”

“Where are you in this?”

“There, I’m there. Close enough to touch, but I watch first.” Colby’s eyes close and he gets a little lost. Charlie’s hand and Charlie’s voice are supposed to anchor him, but the images in his head are like a flip book of his greatest shower time hits. “I hear you both, the breathing, the sounds.”

A tremor runs through Charlie and Colby opens his eyes. “God, the sounds,” Charlie says, and he shifts, rolls into Colby and lets go of his cock in favor of pressing close enough to rub on Colby’s hip. “I bet he’s really quiet, though.”

Colby reaches past Charlie and pats around on the bed, groping for the lube. “Or he’s really loud. No middle ground.” He finds the bottle and manages to slick his hand without spilling too much on the comforter. “I think he’s good with his hands. Grabby.”

“You like grabby.” Charlie apparently wants to demonstrate and he grabs Colby’s ass, laughing.

“True.” Colby knows this about himself. “Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Uh-huh,” Colby gets his wet hand on both of them. “Tell me a story, I know you have at least one that’ll blow my mind.”

#

“It’s not your mind I’m trying to ruin.” Charlie gasps as Colby gives him a tighter grip and a nudge with his thigh. “Okay, okay. Easy, we have time.” He kisses Colby, all tongue and roaming hands. “My office. That big chair that’s next to the couch,” Charlie says, his sentences staccato. “Ian’s sitting on it and I’m on his lap, but not straddling him, my back is to his chest. My legs are over his, so he’s got me spread open, holding me there with his own legs.”

Colby’s eyes go wide and he tries to pull back to stare at Charlie, but Charlie burrows his face into Colby’s neck and his hips twitch, pushing his erection into Colby’s hand. “And you’re there, but you’re dressed, we set it up to surprise you. Ian, he’s got his hand on me, he’s jerking me off really slow, and you’re staring, coming closer.”

Colby can hardly breathe. He can picture Charlie’s office at night, the light low from just the lamps on the end tables, and Charlie like that on Ian’s lap, both of them naked for him. Charlie, so hard in Ian’s hand, so exposed, and Ian under him, just as hard, angled up. He tries to say Charlie’s name again but only manages a desperate sound. He tries again but winds up saying, “Up, up, up. Get up.” Colby rolls onto his back and Charlie throws his leg over and gets on Colby’s hips. “More lube.”

Charlie’s panting, grasping for the bottle, and this time it’s a flood. There's definitely lube on the bedding. “What happens if you try to suck his cock when we’re like that, Colby?” Charlie demands, leaning down, looming over Colby’s body.

Colby’s back arches as he throws his head back. This is an entirely new peek into Charlie’s imagination and Colby’s struggling to keep up. “Fuck. Oh, fuck.” He can’t focus on anything, his entire brain is taken over with the concept, the fantasy, the images. Ian’s dick, Charlie’s balls, Charlie’s ass, and Colby’s mouth all over them.

Charlie glides on him, lube everywhere, his voice is raspy. “Can you see it? Can you hear him, with his hand on me and your mouth everywhere?”

“Where is this coming from?” He has to ask, but his legs are starting to shake and everything in his gut is starting to coil up tight. “You know what I could do to you like that?”

Charlie nods and moves faster, pushing down, riding Colby’s hips. “Yeah. Or Ian. Depends on who can get fingers into me first.”

Colby pushes up enough to reach Charlie’s mouth, more teeth than kiss. “You want that?” he says into Charlie’s breath. His hands are tight on Charlie’s hips, moving him, helping the slip and slide through too much lube. Everything is hot and wet and Colby’s so, so close. “You want to open up for his cock?”

Charlie starts to answer but only gets Colby’s name out before he jerks once more and climaxes, his come adding to the wet mess. When he starts to relax forward he’s kind enough to brace himself on Colby’s shoulders and lean to the side so Colby can roll with him. After that, it’s just a couple of quick thrusts before Colby lets go, his eyes closed tight and his imagination still full of the pictures Charlie’s created.

It takes a couple of minutes for Colby to open his eyes. “You’ve got to let me see that porn you’re hiding on your computer.”

Charlie grins at him. “I think I like sharing it this way, actually.”

#

Cleaning up is more work than usual, but it gives them both some space to settle. It’s been a full, awful day, and they’ve got a long night ahead of them without any promise of an acceptable outcome.

“Do you feel better?” Colby asks as they strip the bed.

Charlie nods. “Endorphins. Dopamine. Rationally, I know I’m still upset, but I’m relaxed for right now.” He opens the window to air out the room. “You?”

Colby thinks. “Still nervous. Body’s happy. Heart is sure. I’ll need to surf soon, though.”

Charlie smiles at him and circles the bed to take the sheets from Colby’s hands. “We’ll be okay.”

“We’ll always be okay.” Of that, Colby never has doubts. He and Charlie are as sure as the tide. It’s the coastline they’re redrawing, and for that they need Ian to help define the details.

Chapter Text

Waiting for Ian isn’t any easier than Colby thought it would be. He and Charlie shower and dress—that’s the only easy part. After that, they remake the bed and start a load of laundry. Charlie can’t sit still enough to watch TV, and he gives up on his math notebook after about ten minutes of what amounts to doodling with numbers. Colby gets the box Charlie tripped over, fills it with the last of his out of season clothing, and closes the flaps. There’s not much point in labeling it since he’s moving everything pretty much one box at a time and often reuses the same box. He didn’t intend to move this way, but work and days off are what they are and he’s got another two months on his lease, so there’s no real rush. Then he cleans the kitchen just for something to do.

As he wipes the countertops he tries to decide if he’s still disassociating and decides he probably is. He’s feeling again, now that he’s rested and has Charlie, but everything is a little off. He’s worried, definitely, and a little angry when he thinks about what Ian said about Colby’s triple agent experience, but mostly he’s nervous. He really does need to surf in the next couple of days. His stomach is a knot, and he wonders vaguely if he needs to eat.

“Charlie? Are you getting hungry yet?”

Charlie turns from staring out the window and sits on the couch. “No, not really. But we should probably order something anyway. It’s getting dark and I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast.” He switches on the TV again and starts looping his way through what Colby thinks of as The Charlie Cycle: CNN, local news, the weather network, four sports stations, and then he scrolls up to the movie channels and looks for anything in black and white or released between 1983 and 1988.

Colby’s not really sure when he last ate either, though he’s pretty sure he managed something when he came home from the office. “I’ll get the menus,” he says as he heads back to the kitchen to denude the refrigerator. He has an extensive collection of menus from places with quick delivery, and every once in a while Charlie goes through and ranks them with a system he’s never explained to Colby. Colby’s never asked—he just orders from the top five and watches to see who drops down or moves up. The current list toppers are a pizza place, a Vietnamese restaurant, two Chinese, and a deli. Colby grabs one from the nearest curry restaurant as well and takes them out to Charlie. “I’m not in the mood for anything in particular.”

Charlie ignores the issue of food entirely. “Colby, how do we have this conversation?” His eyes are a little wide, his face tight. “I mean, how do we even start, how do we even begin to tell him everything we’ve talked about? How do we deal with last night?”

Colby puts the menus on the coffee table and sits next to him on the couch. “I’m not sure.” He watches Charlie’s face, reminded of the way tiny whirlpools start up in small bays, the water restless but still finely controlled. “Are you panicking?”

“No.” Charlie shakes his head. “No, not panicking. Just… concerned.”

“Concerned.” Colby uses one arm to tuck Charlie into his side. “How concerned?”

Charlie resists being tugged for a second, then more or less collapses into Colby’s body. “I don’t know how to be angry at him and not scare him off.”

Colby sighs. “Until yesterday I would have said that he’s impossible to scare, but he’s sure done a number on himself. It’s okay to be mad at him, Charlie, but I get what you mean. Maybe just—” He stops and looks over his shoulder as there’s a knock on the door.

#

“Hang tight.” Colby gets up and gives Charlie’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’re going to make this okay.”

Charlie nods and takes a deep breath.

Colby forces himself to walk at a normal pace as he goes down the hall. He can’t remember the last time he was this nervous. He checks through the peephole just to make sure it’s not David or Don before he opens the door; they would not be helpful additions to the evening. Thankfully, it’s Ian standing in the hall, his face carefully blank. Colby opens the door and says, “Hey. You look better. Less dusty.” His voice isn’t going to betray him although his thudding heartbeat might.

Ian grimaces at him, the blankness vanishing. He’s in jeans and a dark gray long sleeved knit shirt, his jacket clutched in one hand. “Orange isn’t my color, either.”

Colby steps back and lets Ian into the hall. “We were about to order some food. Hungry?”

Ian closes the door and engages the deadbolt, which is a comfort. At least he’s not leaving his escape route totally open. “Not really, but you guys go ahead.” He turns from the door and stills just as Colby realizes Charlie’s joined them, the three of them clustered in the tiny hallway. “Hello, professor.”

“Ian.” Charlie’s voice is carefully neutral as he looks Ian up and down. “Are you all right?” His eyes are bright and he’s a little twitchy, Colby thinks.

“Yeah.” Ian nods his head. “I’m okay.”

Charlie nods back, a tiny inclination of his head, and then—without any hint or indication that Colby can see—punches Ian in the face.

#

“Hey, hey, no.” Colby grabs Charlie and puts himself between the two of them, but Ian’s either too shocked to react or his self-restraint is even more remarkable than Colby’s given him credit for. Ian touches his lip and prods at his cheekbone, his eyes wide. 

Colby hustles Charlie into the living room and puts him on the couch. “All right, tiger. Stay,” he says quietly. “I mean it.”

Charlie’s eyes are wider than Ian’s and he’s going pale. “Oh my God, I didn’t mean—” 

“I know. Just stay here. Think about everything anyone has ever told you about throwing punches. Wait for me.” He doesn’t hang around for Charlie to acknowledge him before he goes back to the hall and brings Ian into the kitchen with a tug on his sleeve. “He’s a little upset,” he says apologetically as he gets a bag of frozen vegetables out of the freezer. “Thanks for not killing him.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not like he wasn’t owed that shot.” Ian takes the bag and holds it to the side of his face. He still looks surprised. “He needs some training, though.”

Colby rolls his eyes but he nods. It wasn’t a great punch. “Let me look at you.” He eases up in front of Ian and pulls the vegetables—peas, he sees now—from his face.

“I’m fine,” Ian says, but he won’t meet Colby’s eye and he’s trying to turn away.

“I know you are. Let me check your pretty face to see how much damage a professor of mathematics did.”

Ian scowls at him and rolls his eyes, but he lets Colby see. “No split lip, no blood. It might not even bruise, which means he really needs some hand-to-hand training.”

“He did the FBI intensive,” Colby says as he confirms there’s no blood before returning the peas to his face. “But you're wrong, it’s bruising already. He missed your nose but got the underside of your cheekbone. Bad aim, good weight.”

Ian snorts. “Figures. But we can teach him more than that.”

Colby grins at him. “You just don’t want anyone to know that a math teacher clocked you.”

“Shut up,” Ian says with a hiss, but he’s smirking a little as well. “Honestly, I was so surprised it was him instead of you that I kind of froze. That’s worse than the math teacher part. My reputation will be ruined.”

“Yeah.” Colby sighs. “He freaked himself out and is probably starting to panic. Are you okay with talking to him?”

“Of course.” Ian’s look of incredulity is probably meant to make Colby feel like he’s an idiot for doubting it, but Colby’s had just enough therapy to know that each and every one of the three of them is walking a tightrope of emotion and nothing can be taken for granted. Obviously. “I promise not to retaliate,” Ian says, looking away. “I mean it, I earned that punch, and I’m not going to take it anywhere.”

“Okay. He needs to hear that. After he apologizes.” Colby gestures to the living room. When Ian nods, they go to join Charlie together.

#

He’s sitting on the couch, glaring at the coffee table, flexing his hand. He looks up as they come in and blurts, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Then he glares at the coffee table again.

Colby watches him for a moment and decides he can’t lessen whatever wave Charlie is riding but he can smooth its way to shore. “I know what you learned from the FBI about hand-to-hand combat. What did Don tell you about punching someone?” he asks mildly.

Charlie’s glare gets darker. “Not in the face because teeth and bones hurt.”

Colby nods. He can picture Don saying exactly that to a twelve year old Charlie. “And what did you just do?”

Charlie mumbles, “Hit Ian in the face.”

“And?”

“Teeth and bones hurt.” Charlie’s glare mutates into a scowl directed at his hand.

Colby sits on the coffee table in front of Charlie, takes his hand to examine it. “Well, no cuts. Not on your hand or on Ian’s face. Your aim wasn’t great.”

Ian drops into the easy chair, peas still pressed to his face. “Good power behind it, though. Good enough that he can take care of himself in most circles.”

Charlie finally looks up, his gaze flicking to Ian quickly and then away.

“Is that what you needed?” Colby asks him. Sometimes that kind of release is. Sometimes it makes things worse. “Do you feel better?”

Charlie sighs. “No. Now I have guilt, too.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Colby lets go of his hand. “You know what to do.” He stands up and moves away, out from between them.

#

Charlie, color high on his cheeks, looks at Ian and takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, I really am. I didn’t know I was going to do it until it happened. I didn’t even know I wanted to, and I should’ve been able to stop myself. Are you okay?”

Ian nods and takes the bag of peas away from his face. “Trust me, I’ve done worse to other people with less provocation. I don’t blame you, Charlie, and I know it wasn’t something you planned—I would’ve seen it coming. On the plus side, you have zero tells when it comes to instinctive attacks. All we need to do is work on aiming you where we need you to lose your temper.” He prods at the corner of his lip again.

Charlie closes his eyes and works his jaw for a moment. When he looks at Ian again he says, “We’ll add this to the list of things we have to deal with because even if you’re honestly not upset about it, I am. Horrible greeting aside, I really am glad you’re here. I wasn’t completely sure you would come, and I hope you won’t march out the door because I hit you.”

Ian looks around the room and at Colby before he leans forward slightly, angling toward Charlie. “Yeah, well. It was made very clear to me that I screwed up spectacularly. I don’t usually respond well to ultimatums like ‘be there or else’ but in this case the or else is pretty big.” He throws the jacket he’s been holding at one of the dining room chairs where it drapes itself elegantly across the seat to Colby’s delight and annoyance. “If there’s a chance of undoing what I did, I need to try, Charlie. Even if my instinct is to run, and not because you punched me.” He puts the peas back on his face.

# 

Charlie rubs his hands on his thighs. “The problem,” he says slowly to Ian, “one of my problems anyway, is that there are so many places to start this conversation, and I don’t know how to pick one. I—we—wanted something different from this.” He makes a face that’s mostly frustration but has hints of regret. “It would have been a lot easier if you’d called us when you got to town because even if you don’t trust us enough to help with your case we could’ve let you know what we… ” He stops and swallows, his face turning away from Ian. “Colby, I don’t want to mess up any more than I have and I’m not good at this. You know that, the math and the words—”

Colby moves then, going to Charlie and sitting next to him. He and Ian have their own issues to deal with, but he’s pretty sure that they’ll get around to it in time, and they’ll give each other a chance to do what needs doing. Charlie, however, is working himself up again instead of calming down. “It’s okay,” Colby says quietly, hoping to gentle the brewing storm. “You’re not going to mess up. Ian’s going to stay and listen, and we’re all going to talk until we’ve said it all, all right?”

“I don’t know how not to be mad right now.” Charlie stares into Colby’s eyes and gestures wildly, clearly unable to be still. “And I don’t know how to be angry and talk at the same time—I usually run away and escape into math. He doesn’t trust in my friendship enough to see me through being angry to the other side of it, and I just hit him. I didn’t exactly help my case.”

Colby nods. He puts his hands on Charlie’s jaw and draws him in, rests his forehead on Charlie’s for a moment. “He’s not going to leave because you say something the wrong way, I promise. He’s not going to leave because you threw a punch. He’s not going to leave until all three of us say what we need to say.” He looks over at Ian, every bit of his soul promising that if Ian does walk out on this conversation he’ll regret it.

Ian’s eyes are wide again. He nods quickly, and Colby’s sure that he’s never seen Ian like this. It takes him a moment to realize that what he’s seeing is uncertainty; Ian’s always confident but right now he has no idea what to do. “I’m not going anywhere,” Ian tells them. “I know there’s a lot to talk about.” He gets up and moves around the coffee table, going slow like he’s afraid Charlie will take flight. He sits on the couch, as close to the arm as he can get, giving Charlie space. “You can say whatever you need to say and I’ll listen until the end of it. Forget about the punch. I’ll even let you brag to Don about it, if you want.”

#

Charlie doesn’t react to that, just rubs his eyes and looks over at Ian. “It’s just… we had a plan. The conversation we wanted to have with you was going to be hard enough, and now there’s all of this other junk on top of it.” He looks exhausted, every bit of him weary and sad. “I’m angry at you, and we can’t start to tell you what we want, can’t ask if you’re even interested, until we deal with yesterday and last night.”

Colby moves to the chair Ian’s vacated, not quite out of the way but not right there with them. They need to do this part of it themselves.

“I know.” Ian glances at Colby. “Did you tell him everything?”

“Pretty much.” Colby lifts one shoulder. He feels like a lifeguard, like a spotter at the gym. “I told him about how you got the drop on me and Don, and almost every word we spoke. He saw me attached to that post and he saw you. I told him I won’t let you use me to give him nightmares. I didn’t tell him the other line you crossed, but I did tell him it happened and you know not to do it again. I told him what my theory is about you being scared of your feelings. Or of our feelings.”

Ian nods and looks back at Charlie. He doesn’t move any closer, but he does meet Charlie’s eyes. “There’s a lot. You have every right to be angry.”

Charlies nods. “I do. You held a gun on Colby. You used his life against my brother. You used Colby as leverage to make me do what I would have done even without you even asking. Angry barely describes what I feel, and I don’t want to feel like this. I want to be happy that you’re both here and that you’re not going to jail for a murder you didn’t commit.”

“Yeah.” Ian’s voice is quiet, almost like it was the night in the living room at Charlie’s house. This time he’s not soothing, though, at least not yet. Right now all Colby hears is regret, and it gives him hope. Ian’s not here to appease them, to buy time, not if he’s letting them hear remorse. “I’m happy about that part, even if this is difficult. Maybe grateful is a better word than happy.”

#

Charlie shifts on the couch. He’s not relaxing yet, every joint is stiff and his shoulders are too high and forward, but he turns slightly to face Ian a little more. “Colby told me they didn’t hurt you. The marshals. You said you’re not hurt.”

“They didn’t.” Ian shakes his head a little and puts a hand on his right knee, rubs it, and then puts the bag of peas there. “I have some bruises from crawling through the ducts and smashing into corners, but that’s it.” He looks at Colby, his eyes suddenly flashing and going wide again. “Did I hurt you?”

Colby shakes his head. “No. And I’ve been inspected, so Charlie knows that’s true.”

Ian blinks, just the once, and Colby lifts an eyebrow in response. At this point, he doesn’t care what Ian deduces or assumes, or even what he’s flat out told. Ian looks back at Charlie. “I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want him there at all.”

“We figured as much.” Charlie sounds almost like Don when his suspicions are confirmed. “If anything, you were hoping not to see him, and you only wanted to see me because you needed my math.”

Ian closes his eyes. “That’s… accurate.” When he opens them again he says, “I was hoping anyone else would come in that room other than the two who did. Ideally, I wanted David.”

Colby can’t help himself. “David?”

“Yeah.” Ian scrubs at his hair. “Think about it. I didn’t want to even see you, let alone get locked in a room with you for hours. I didn’t want to use Don—he was stabbed not too long ago, for God’s sake, and Charlie’s having enough issues with that.” He gives Charlie a guilty look and Colby would put money on Ian not meaning to say that; it underlines the care and attention he pays to Charlie’s emotions and just how screwed up the entire situation is. He hurries on. “Warner and Betancourt would have worked, but I really didn’t want to take a woman—the optics on that are fucked in so many ways. Reeves might have been okay other than her gender because of her psych background, but she was kidnapped on a case that didn’t end well. Sinclair was my best bet. He’s methodical, calm, and works so by the book that he wouldn’t make it any uglier than it had to be.”

Charlie stares at him for a long moment, his jaw clenched. “I’m going to go order food. We’re having random things from the deli. No one gets to complain about what I order.” He stands, grabs the menus, and walks to the kitchen before Colby or Ian can say anything more.

#

Ian leans forward and buries his face in his forearms, exactly like he did in the prison break room. The only thing missing is the gun in his hands. “Fuck.”

“Just give him a minute,” Colby says. He feels strangely reassured—Charlie taking a break from an uncomfortable moment is the most normal thing that’s happened in hours. “I’ll tell you what I tell him—he’s not an agent. Sometimes the thought process gets to him, but he just needs some space to breathe. He’ll be okay because what you said makes sense. He’s stuck on the part where you didn’t trust us, but that’s tangled up in the other issue. We’ll get there.”

Ian lifts his head and looks at Colby. “You’re being remarkably even about this.”

Colby can hear Charlie on the phone in the kitchen. “My therapist says I’m depersonalizing.” He likes that word better than dissociating. He gets up and goes to sit on the couch, closer to Ian than Charlie was. “I was earlier, but I’m not sure if I still am. Mostly, I want Charlie to process this so he can move forward. He gets stuck sometimes. He knows what he wants, but he’s kind of tripping himself up right now. The only way he can smooth it out is to stop being angry at you.”

Ian studies his face. “And you? How are you going to stop being angry?”

Colby smiles at him, genuine warmth rising up inside of him. “I’m not saying that you and I aren’t going to have a short, very quiet, very sharp talk on a couple of points, but I’m not mad. I was there in that place with you—I saw your face when I called you on the worst of it, and I know that you didn’t walk out of that room without hurting yourself, too. Those are regrets you’re going to have to live with. Right next to the ones you have about Mike.”

Ian looks away, his face bleak.

“The good news is that you fixed things with Mike, and the three of us can fix this,” Colby says quietly. “We all want to. And maybe after tonight, we won’t have to have these big, huge discussions every time we see each other for more than a minute.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Ian asks him. He still looks grim, but some of the pain is fading off his face and there’s hints of wonder around his eyes.

“I do.” Colby nods, his gaze locked on Ian’s. “And I think you do, too. You’re here.”

#

“Delivery in twenty minutes.” Charlie walks into the room and Colby leans back, away from Ian. He hadn’t noticed himself getting closer. “I have an idea,” Charlie adds, striding past them.

Ian blinks rapidly and leans away as well. “An idea?” he asks as he shifts his focus—quickly—to Charlie.

Charlie goes to the large window at the end of the room, the big picture window that takes up most of the west wall of Colby’s apartment. He opens the blinds to the top, his package of dry-erase markers in his free hand. “It’s just a matter of definitions and weighting variables. Right now everything we’re talking about is colored with heightened emotions, and there’s too many trees for me to find the forest.”

Colby closes his eyes and dredges up a memory. The Brutus case. “Euclid’s Orchard?”

Charlie freezes, then goes loose all over. His shoulders drop and Colby can see Charlie’s grin reflected in the window in front of him. “Not exactly, but you are totally going to be rewarded for that.”

Colby flushes hot and shakes his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Which makes it all the better. Trust me.”

Ian raises an eyebrow and Colby shakes his head at him, mouths, “Later.” Ian will totally appreciate the math kink when it’s time.

Charlie frowns at the window. “It’s too dark outside to see the marker.”

“Use the wall,” Colby tells him. “It’s a semi-gloss, it might come off. If not, I’ll paint.”

“Or he could try the lightest color in the pack instead of the darkest,” Ian says, looking at Colby like he’s an idiot.

Charlie just shrugs, puts the black marker away and takes out the orange one. “All right. You two just sit there. Ian, talk.”

#

“Uh, sure.” Ian shifts on the couch and finally settles back into it, his gaze on Charlie. “Where do you want me to start?” He looks like he’s not sure what to do with his hands for a moment and finally crosses his arms over his chest.

Colby puts himself in his favorite spot at the other end of the couch, curled into the corner, his legs half on and half off in a sprawl that’s designed to let Charlie get close when he wants to. He watches Ian watch Charlie and checks in with himself again. He feels okay, really. Ian’s practically bending over backward to do whatever he and Charlie say, and if he’s feeling defensive he’s not letting them see it. Not yet, anyway.

Charlie’s making a grid on the window, four panels wide. “Start where you think is important. What’s the first thing that comes to mind? Why are you in this room with us?” He doesn’t look back at the couch, and Colby thinks it’s on purpose. This is Charlie settling his brain and still engaging with them, but if he looks at them he might break apart like a jigsaw puzzle.

Ian’s back to being unsettled and unsure. “I… okay.” He closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them he’s almost himself, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m here to make sure you know that I never meant to… I didn’t intend for this. Hurting you, either of you, was never something I wanted to happen.”

“Uh-huh.” Charlie writes, creating something on the window. Colby has no idea if it’s an expression, an equation, or even an algorithm, not yet. “I’m pretty sure we know that. I do, anyway. But intentions don’t weigh as much as effects, sometimes. To that point, though, what were your intentions?”

“When? Yesterday? Months ago? A year ago?” Ian’s watching the window and Colby keeps watching Ian. He’s twitchy, but he’s trying.

Charlie slashes the fourth panel in half horizontally, makes five panels total, and labels the new one Time. “Both? Yesterday first.” He’s poised, ready to turn whatever Ian says into math.

#

Ian takes a deep breath and Colby recognizes the calming strategy. He wonders just how much therapy Ian’s had to sit through, or if his breathing is entirely due to sniper training. “Yesterday I just wanted to work my case and avoid seeing either of you so I wouldn’t have to come up with a way to stop.”

Charlie dashes off a few symbols and looks over his shoulder. “Stop?”

“Stop.” Ian rubs his hands on his thighs the same way Charlie does when he’s nervous. The way Colby sometimes rubs the spot over his heart. “Stop caring, stop this ridiculous new hoping thing, stop trying to convince myself what I thought I saw was true.” He stands up and walks the three paces to the wall the window is set in, but stays away from Charlie, not crowding him. He puts himself in the corner, facing the room, and crosses his arms again. “This is what I didn’t intend. I didn’t understand, Charlie. I mean, I thought I was doing something good, doing the right thing all along. I wanted nothing but to make sure you two had freedom and peace and security. I didn’t know.”

Charlie, for the first time Colby can remember, turns away from the math before it’s complete. “You didn’t know how we feel?” It’s a question, a plea for a data point, not a show of incredulity.

“I didn’t even know how I feel,” Ian insists. “Then you showed up in Montreal and I just couldn’t figure out why, you know that. But by the time you left, after dinner at the hotel, I couldn’t—I couldn’t make it—the three of us—fit in my head anymore, not the way we had been. Everything made sense, and then it didn’t.” He puts his back to the far corner of the room. “Have you ever had a passing thought, just a pretty picture in your head, and then realized it’s exactly what you want, more than anything? And you can’t see any way for it to possibly happen?”

Charlie looks at Colby pointedly for a long moment and nods. “Yes.” He faces Ian. “A couple of times now.”

Ian gives him a sad smile. “Something like what you two have, it doesn’t happen for me. It’s impossible. So I put it away and tried to keep being a friend.”

Colby wishes he’d thought to record parts of this for Nick. “I did that.” They both look at him. “For a year or so, before the garage. Before Charlie forced it into the light. We know, both of us, what you’re talking about, Ian.”

#

Ian shakes his head and sweeps his arm, gesturing between Charlie and Colby. “You keep saying that I don’t trust you, that yesterday was about me not telling you what I needed for the case. It’s not, I swear. I trust you with my life, I trust the whole team with my life. I don’t trust myself. I knew you would help me, but by the time I got to town my focus, my entire headspace, was split in two. I had this case that was consuming me and it had a critical timeline. And I had to back as far away from you two as possible, as quickly as possible. The two things couldn’t function together—I couldn’t concentrate on them both at once.”

“Maybe that’s the part I don’t get,” Charlie says.  He walks to the table and puts his marker down. “Why did you need to get rid of us completely?”

Ian looks at Colby. “You know why,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Colby nods and resists the urge to stand up and go to him, to offer comfort and solace. It’s still too early for that. “If it’s real, it’ll hurt. Bad.”

Ian sighs. “With this, with the two of you, if it’s real, it’ll be the end of me.” He shakes his head. “Complete ruin.”

Colby meets Charlie’s gaze and sees only a need to make things stop hurting. Whatever anger he was trying to manage has bled away, at least for the moment. Colby sits up, loses his sprawl, but doesn’t stand. “You know, you’re completely rejecting the possibility of it actually working out. We know how this dance goes,” he says. “I get how you would think there was only one way for it to go, I understand why you would assume that. Trust me, I never thought Charlie would give me a glance, let alone his heart. And he didn’t think I would be into him with love as my goal. We both know about thinking things are impossible. But we’re saying we absolutely know that there’s another way.”

Ian lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I’m getting that. You’re both pretty clear. I just don’t understand why.”

#

Colby exchanges another look with Charlie. “Is that insecurity or confusion? Because we can start listing all your good points if you really want us to.”

Ian looks appropriately horrified. “Please don’t.”

Charlie laughs a little. “He’ll do it, too. He’s done it to me and it’s incredibly embarrassing.” He looks at his watch and gestures to Ian. “Sit. Please. We’ve got a few more minutes before the food arrives. Maybe we can talk through some of this.”

Colby rolls his eyes. “I thought we already were talking through it,” he says, mostly to give Charlie a reason to transfer his attention away from Ian, which will give Ian a moment to get himself together. He holds his hand out to Charlie. “Come here, sit next to me.”

Ian takes the opportunity to put himself back in the easy chair, his gaze on them both as Charlie sits down, pointedly not curling into Colby’s body. Charlie’s got his best manners on display.

“Why?” Ian asks again. “You two aren’t lacking anything in your relationship, that’s obvious. I don’t see the point in mixing in with something that’s perfectly fine without me there to mess it up.”

“We’re not lacking, you’re right.” Charlie leans forward, his elbows on his knees. It’s the most relaxed Colby’s seen him since they got out of bed. “And you won’t mess it up. We have… I was going to say a lot to share, but that’s not even it. Ian, do you believe that I love Colby with my whole heart?”

“Yes.” Ian says it almost before Charlie stops talking. “And he loves you that way, too. Which is my point.”

Charlie flips one hand, palm up. “Do you believe I love Amita? My brother? My father? Larry?”

Ian rolls his eyes. “It’s not the same.”

“Of course not. I can’t love anyone the same as any other person. No one can. I didn’t even love each of my parents in exactly the same ways. I believe I can have more than one romantic attachment, more than one physical attraction at once. What I feel for you isn’t the same as what I feel for Colby, but I assure you it’s intense, it’s been building, and it’s not going away. Colby and I want to give you a clear idea of what we think and feel, what we hope for. What the three of us are able to do after that is up to you.”

#

Ian sits back and looks at them, his hands on the arms of the chair. Colby’s seen this version of Ian before, working cases. “All right. I think you’re both bonkers, but I said I’d listen and that the three of us would talk everything out. I’m not running away. I’m listening.”

Colby shakes his head and tries not to laugh. “It’s not supposed to be an interview, I promise.”

Ian lifts an eyebrow at him and the corner of his mouth twitches. “Just the facts, ma’am?”

Colby does laugh then. “Yeah. Just the facts, ma’am.” He looks at Charlie. “I don’t suppose you have a nice analogy all lined up?”

“Honestly, I didn’t even think this idea was that great. I mean, talking it all out? A deep conversation?” Charlie grins at him and shrugs. “I was completely prepared to use your backup plan.”

Colby has no idea what to say so he just looks at Charlie and sighs. “Great, I love improv. I was counting on the math too much.”

Ian clears his throat. “I’m kind of interested to know what the backup plan was.”

“Uh, no. Maybe later,” Colby says hastily. Charlie’s grin grows.

Both of Ian’s eyebrows go up. “Now I really need to know.”

Charlie’s apparently unable to stop himself. “We were going to make sure you accidentally happened to walk in on us having sex in the hope you’d just crack.”

Ian closes his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

#

Colby takes pity on him and tries to bring things back under control, for his own sake if not Ian’s. Charlie’s pinging quickly towards playful, which might be just as difficult at the moment as angry was a quarter of an hour ago. “That wouldn’t actually solve anything,” he says. “The first plan was way better. We thought maybe you’d come to town, we’d all wind up at the house like usual, have a few drinks, play a few games, let everyone get relaxed. We’d have time to catch up and just talk, so by the time everyone else was gone, Charlie and I could steer the conversation a little, invite you over here for a conversation.”

Ian nods and rubs his eyes with one hand. “Instead, I brought violence, anger, and anxiety. Not exactly relaxed.”

“Plus,” Charlie says, “we didn’t know that you were having this hard of a time accepting that we’re into you. Or that you’re into us. So we’re all kind of at a disadvantage, of sorts.”

“Look.” Ian leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “None of us are comfortable right now. We all deal in facts, practicalities, and theories every day. Just lay out your case.”

#

“That’s your area,” Charlie tells Colby. He pulls his legs up and sits tailor-style on the couch. “I’ll back you up with stats as needed.”

Colby gives him a long look. “Do you actually have stats for this?”

“I’ll calculate what you need as we go.”

Colby looks at Ian and his heart stutters. Ian’s looking at Charlie like he’s fascinating, precious. Something to be treasured. “That. Right there. That’s why, Ian.”

Ian blinks at him and looks away, his jaw clenching.

“He looks at you like that, too,” Charlie says quietly. “And you look at Ian like you want to drag him off somewhere for hours and hours and not let him up for air until you’ve made your point.”

Ian makes a sound that’s close to an impatient growl. “At this stage can we just agree that wanting to bone isn’t the issue here?”

Colby shakes his head. “That’s not it, though. Well, it’s not all, anyway, because yeah. A part of what we’d like is definitely sex.”

“But not all.” Ian gestures toward the back of the apartment. “Obviously, or one of you would’ve initiated a threesome, I would’ve said yes, and we all would’ve been in that big bed of yours months ago.”

“Right,” Charlie agrees. “We’d like to… God, I keep wanting to use words like offer and propose and plan, like this is a business deal.” He looks at Ian and Colby sees his eyes go soft. “Colby and I had a talk like this a while ago, about our future and what it looks like, and about you. We know that this is a big deal and that you’ll need time to think about it. We want you to join us, as often as you’re able or as often as you want, which isn’t the same thing, but exclusively.”

#

Ian tilts his head and mouths the word, “Exclusively.”

“It means—”

“I know what it means, professor,” Ian says, with enough annoyance that Colby feels some tension let go. Natural reactions are good reactions; best manners are fine, but Colby’s ready to cut to the chase. Ian gives them both a hard look. “I’m just wondering what you two think I’m getting up to out in the middle of the woods, and with who.”

“Not the woods,” Charlie says, and Colby thinks he’s missed Ian’s point. Charlie waves a hand. “You spend a lot of time in cities and towns across the country, in South America, Europe, Canada…” Charlie trails off and he looks at Colby, stricken.

Colby nods; he’s just had the same thought, and it stuns him that neither one of them has even considered it before.

Charlie looks back at Ian. “Are you seeing someone and didn’t mention it to us?” he asks, his voice small and worried.

Ian pushes out a breath and looks away from them. “No. I’m not seeing anyone, not like that, anyway. There’s no one who’s going to be devastated if I don’t show up someplace, sometime.”

Charlie unfolds himself from the couch and looks at his watch. “I’m going to go wait for the food downstairs. It should be here any minute.” He doesn’t exactly run out of the apartment, but it’s hardly a stroll.

Ian looks at Colby. “Well, how badly did that go?”

#

“He’ll be fine. He just needs a minute, like I said.” Colby stands up and goes to look out the window, peering past the math to the parking lot. “He’s never had something like that, not like you and me. He gets the concept of stress relief, but he’s only ever had actual in depth relationships.”

He hears Ian stand up, too. “Not like you and me,” Ian repeats as he comes to stand next to Colby. “Well, me. You seem to have a handle on relationships that aren’t just relief and a need for touch.”

Colby laughs softly. “I had a lot of girlfriends in high school, relationships that lasted a couple of months, tops. I saw a girl pretty steadily in college—that one was serious, I guess, but breaking up wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. After that was training, war, foxholes, and undercover.” He watches headlights turn into the parking lot. “Stress relief. Casual things with people I liked a lot. Some I even admired.”

Ian nods slowly. “There’s a person in Florida. It’s nothing like love, nothing like a relationship. But there’s trust there, and a lot of years. Respect. I’ll have to have a conversation.”

Colby turns to face him. “That’s absolutely something for you to consider. You can talk it over with us, if you want. If you need some flexibility in exclusivity.”

Ian smiles and shakes his head. “No. No, that’s not what I’d need. If anything, you’ll get a thank you card, probably.”

“I doubt that.” Colby quirks a smile at him. “Being told no more by you would be a huge disappointment.”

Ian’s pupils dilate. “You might want to step back, pretty. I don’t think we’re finished talking yet, and I get the feeling that Charlie might be annoyed if we skip a few bullet points.”

#

Colby eases back, but it takes him a heartbeat or two to do it. “He’ll be up with the food soon. I’m going to get plates and stuff from the kitchen.”

He’s not surprised when Ian follows him.

In the kitchen Ian puts the peas back in the freezer and Colby starts gathering what they’ll need. “Oh, not to change the subject so far it’ll give you whiplash, but you should know that it was me and David who searched your place after you were arrested. Whoever broke in to steal your knife did a clean job—there was no forced entry, so you’ll need to get your locks changed, the picks might’ve done some damage.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Ian sighs and picks up the plates Colby had put on the counter. “Did they break anything? Trash the place?”

“No, everything is fine.” Colby gets knives, forks, and spoons. “All of it.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Ian nods at him and takes the utensils from his hand. “Who looked in the boxes?”

Colby looks him in the eye. “Me. I’m sorry. I know it’s an invasion.”

Ian shrugs. “Nothing there I’m ashamed of.”

“I’m going to let you tell Charlie how many degrees you have. It’s my gift to you.”

Ian scowls. “You’re going to ruin my image.”

“You tipped your hand anyway. Calling the TAs minions back when Don got stabbed? You know all about TAs, and he knew it. He just wasn’t at his best that night, but he’ll be pretty impressed with your sheepskins.”

Ian’s scowl deepens but Colby just grins at him. If he can’t play dumb, Ian can’t either.

#

They’re setting the table when Charlie comes back with two large paper bags and carries them directly to the dining room. “I may have ordered too much food.” He starts unpacking and Colby actually steps back to watch as container after container appears.

“That’s a lot of salads,” Ian says as he opens them. “Oh, here’s soup.”

Colby unwraps a foil package to find sandwiches. “Well, there’s no need to buy groceries in the next day or two, I guess.”

They sit and pass things around, and Colby finds his appetite has returned, but Charlie’s sticking to the soup and things that are pretty light, and Ian’s kind of picking through the salads.

“So,” Ian says, looking at his plate, “what are the expectations, aside from exclusive?”

Colby glances at Charlie who is also looking only at his plate. “Pretty much what it is now,” Colby says. “When you’re in town, we want you to stay with us. When you’re not in town, you’re not in town. Email and text like you usually do. We don’t want you to change anything.” Colby looks at them both and shrugs. “It’ll just be more.”

Ian looks up. “More.”

Colby nods. “The way you looked at Charlie? The way he sees you looking at me? That’s so much more than sex, and we want that. Stay with us, sleep with us, talk with us. Watch TV, play pool, go hiking, grocery shopping, whatever. We want to be your home. When you don’t want to be in a big city we want you to go to that piece of land you told us about, and we want to visit you there. We’re not talking about just rolling around the sheets, Ian. We want a relationship. This one is remarkable, and I think it’ll be even better with you in it.”

Ian stares at him and then looks at Charlie. “You really did have a plan to talk to me about this. That was nearly a speech.”

Charlie nods. He’s fidgeting with his fork and Colby can see him struggling to keep eye contact with Ian. “Several weeks ago we were camping and I wanted to talk to Colby about you because this has been building for a long time, and after Montreal I knew we had to make a decision. It turned out there wasn’t a choice to make at all, only a need to acknowledge the situation to each other. We talked about everything that day, and you need to know those things, too, before you make up your mind.”

Colby feels his appetite fade again as anxiety creeps in.

#

Apparently, he’s not alone. Ian pushes his plate away, barely touched. “I think I’m going to take it as read that there’s a lot of feelings here and that you’re both sincere in wanting me to be a part of you. I need the line items now.”

Colby nods. “Yeah. Okay. Hang on, I want to grab something.” He goes to the hall and gets his lockbox from the closet floor, brings it out to the table. As he unlocks it he says, “Charlie, give me a four digit number, please.”

“8128,” Charlie says without hesitation.

Colby nods and codes it in as the new combination. “Thanks. Got that, Ian?”

“Of course. It’s the only four digit perfect number. Easy enough to remember.”

Colby looks at Charlie, unsurprised to see him staring at Ian, mouth parted and eyes dark. “Down boy. Not yet,” he murmurs.

Charlie blinks twice. “But he—”

“You can show him how exciting that is for you later. We’re doing a sitrep right now.”

Ian’s looking between the two of them and Colby watches comprehension dawn. “That Euclid thing?”

Colby nods. “Wait until you accidentally pick up some advanced mathematics and apply it correctly. You’ll never be the same.”

Ian’s pupils dilate again as he looks at Charlie. “Well. That’s good to know.”

Charlie, to Colby’s amusement, blushes.

#

“Gentlemen. Focus, please.” Colby waits until they both look at him. “Now. I fully expect that after we tell Ian everything he’s going to need to take a walk, do some thinking, make a phone call to wherever Weston is these days.” He looks into the box and takes out the spare set of keys he keeps in there and hands them to Ian. “Front door, my door, the deadbolt. Keep them, you can come and go as you want.”

Ian takes them, one eyebrow up high. “You keep keys in your gun safe?”

“That’s a gun safe?” Charlie leans forward, interested. “Usually he keeps his guns in the kitchen drawer.”

Ian looks scandalized. “You what?”

“Not all of them.” Colby feels the need to defend himself. “Just my service weapon and my backup.” He looks down into the box. “The other two are here.”

Ian gets up and circles the table. “Okay, one, this isn’t a great gun safe. Get a better one. And two, use it.” He reaches behind himself and produces a SIG Sauer from the small of his back. “Lock it up,” he says as he hands it to Colby. “If I take a walk, I’ll be back for it.”

#

Colby takes that as an assurance and goes to get his backup Smith and Wesson from the kitchen drawer, the one Ian had taken and used on him a day ago. A lifetime ago. He’s fine with leaving his Springfield in the drawer, at least until Ian makes a bigger issue of locking it up. “All right.” He locks up the guns and sits back down at the table. “Sit, both of you, and try to eat something. Charlie, where do you want me to start? We don’t actually have rules, but there’s rails our relationship runs along that might help.”

“Tell him about how questions and secrets work. I’ll jump in with an ad libed analogy if it gets complicated.” Charlie goes back to his chair and actually starts to eat some of the pasta salad on his plate.

Colby wants to roll his eyes but instead he looks across the table to where Ian’s sitting down again. “After what I went through rebuilding my place on the team, trust and truth are a big deal for me. You know that, anyway,” he says. “Given what Charlie does for various agencies, my triple agent history, and what you and I do for a living, Charlie and I have an agreement that keeps us from tripping over ourselves and our skill at lying. What it comes down to is that we don’t lie, full stop. We don’t offer everything up for examination, but telling an out and out lie is a big damn deal. I’ve done it once, out of fear, and I won’t do it again.”

Charlie nods and waves his fork like a conductor’s baton. “What we do instead is give each other the power to not talk about things,” he explains. “If I’m working on a project for the NSA or someone like that, Colby knows not to ask about it because I can’t talk about it. And if Colby’s a mess but can’t tell me why because it’s a case or because he doesn’t have words for it, or if he doesn’t want to expose me to ugly memories, he just tells me he doesn’t want to talk about it yet. We’ve both done that. Or even that he won’t, ever. He did that today.”

Ian looks at him, eyes sharp, and Colby nods. “Yeah, about what you think it’s about. He might hold a grudge and I won’t.”

“Which doesn’t mean I’m not curious and unhappy that you said something to provoke that reaction, but I trust Colby to deal with it the way that’s best for him and you.”

#

Ian takes a breath and finally nods. “All right. No lying, but it’s acceptable to decline conversations within parameters. And pretty much everything from yesterday is unacceptable. Got it.”

“We understand why you did what you did,” Colby says quietly. “It’s over. We won’t bring it back up after we’re done with it. Promise.”

Ian nods, just a jerk of his head. “Okay.”

Charlie reaches over, nudging a couple of containers out of the way so he can touch Ian’s arm. “I know you won’t believe that until it’s obvious. That’s okay, too.”

“I appreciate that,” Ian says, his voice a little tight. “Can we move on now?”

Colby knows the discomfort, can see Ian in the riptide. “Sure.” He nods. “Although, really, that’s the gist of things. We don’t want you to change your whole life, we just want to see you more and have the three of us grow something. The other things you need to know are more future-based stuff.”

“Tell me,” Ian says. “I need everything now.”

Colby looks at Charlie. “There’s just the two things, right?”

“Three.” Charlie smiles at him. “I’m counting your weekend shopping trips.”

Colby grins back. “Right. Three.” He looks at Ian. “I’m buying a truck. My days off are mostly spent driving around to dealerships and seeing what’s out there, and then Charlie does the breakdowns and cross-referencing. I’m hoping to actually get a truck in the next year or so, but he’s very serious about researching options and acceptable trade-in prices.”

Ian relaxes fractionally and then looks thoughtful. “I know a guy. I’ll hook you up—he’s got some sources you guys aren’t going to just bump into.”

#

Charlie looks intrigued and is about to say something when Colby quickly interjects. “Later, thank you. I’ll let you do all the research you want, I promise. The other two things, though.”

“Ah. Yes.” Charlie sits back and looks at him and then at Ian. “If you take a walk, take one of the sandwiches with you. Colby’s right, you need to eat.”

Ian sits back and sighs. “All right. Hit me. I’m starting to relax and you two are getting tense.”

Colby grimaces. The conversation is kind of like jumping off a pier and nothing at all like surfing. “It’s not bad, but it’s a lot. I’m moving into the house with Charlie. It’s taking a while, but I’ve got a couple of months left on the lease here. I haven’t even given notice, I’ve just started staying at the house and leaving my clothes and things there.”

“That’s not exactly unexpected, is it?” Ian asks. “I mean, you guys spend most nights together and it’s not like Charlie and Alan don’t have room. It makes sense.”

“I’m not sure Dad’s even noticed yet,” Charlie says. “Don hasn’t. I’ve got a bet with Larry about when Dad figures it out.”

“How much?” Ian’s grinning. “Can I get in on the action?”

“I’ll ask Larry tomorrow,” Charlie promises. “Fifty bucks to buy in.”

Colby shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Your dad is going to be deeply disappointed in all of you.”

“Alan can take it,” Ian says with a grin that matches Charlie. Then he sobers. “So. What’s the last thing on your list? The one that’s got you both tied up in a knot?”

#

Colby looks at Charlie. Charlie looks back. It’s suddenly impossible not to be touching him. He gestures for Charlie to come to him. “Come here.”

Charlie gets up without hesitation and stands in front of him, close, looking down at Colby’s face. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” He tugs Charlie closer then pulls him down to sit on his lap. He kisses Charlie softly. “I love you.”

Charlie nods. “I love you, too. This is right.”

“It is.” He kisses Charlie again, then looks across to Ian. “Please understand we’re telling you this because we know that you need to know everything. You can’t make a good choice for yourself without having all the information we can give you, and if we held this back it would be a gross violation of your trust.”

Ian starts to look worried. He sits back in his chair, studying them across the table, and nods. “Okay.”

“It’s also not something anyone else knows or has a right to know yet. You absolutely have that right.”

Ian nods again. “So keep my mouth shut.”

“Yes, please,” Charlie says in a near whisper. “It’s just for the three of us right now.”

“Are you sick?” The muscles in Ian’s jaw twitch.

“No. God, no.” Charlie shakes his head. “Nothing like that, it’s nothing bad. Remember I said that Colby and I talked about everything when we were camping? Our future, and you?”

“Yeah,” Ian says slowly. He looks at them, both of them sitting across the table from him. “Apparently you decided to buy a truck and move in together.”

Colby nods. “We also talked about a family.”

Ian closes his eyes.

Charlie tenses.

Colby waits.

“You want children,” Ian says quietly. “There’s very small, very dependent humans in your future.”

“Yeah.” Colby makes himself speak as evenly as he can. “We want you as part of that family. The role is up to you. But you need to know that our long term plan includes children.”

#

Ian exhales but doesn’t open his eyes. “I need a minute.”

“Uh-huh.” Charlie takes Colby’s hand in a tight grip. Colby squeezes back and starts to count slowly in his head.

It takes Ian almost a full minute to open his eyes. “You’re right, I needed to know that. I also need to take that walk. I appreciate you giving me all the information—I know it would’ve been easier not to say anything.”

Colby makes himself nod. He can’t speak, his throat is closing up.

Ian stands and picks up the keys Colby gave him. After a look at Charlie, he reaches out and takes one of the wrapped sandwiches as well. “I’ll be back, I promise. We’ll talk this out before we go to sleep tonight.”

This time it’s Charlie who nods. They stay where they are as Ian makes his way around the table. Colby expects him to go directly to the door and out, but he stops next to them and lifts his free hand to touch Charlie’s cheek. “Thank you,” he says softly. Then he leans forward and kisses Charlie’s mouth, soft and chaste.

When Ian turns to look at him, all Colby can see is longing in Ian’s eyes. “And thank you, so much.” Ian’s kiss is sweet and brief, and then he’s gone, jacket in hand, walking toward the door.

Colby and Charlie stay where they are long after the door closes behind him.

Chapter Text

Colby and Charlie don’t talk as they clear the table. Neither of them is going to eat anything more, so they close all the takeout containers and put everything in the fridge, and Colby washes the few dishes they used. Charlie takes a cloth to the table surface and pushes the chairs back to where they belong, and then there’s just the lockbox sitting there in the middle of the table like a centerpiece.

“Let’s find a movie,” Colby says. It’s too quiet in the apartment and he’s not able to sit in this silence well. He’s a patient man, he knows how to sit and watch an alley or a back entrance for hours. This is not that. “Something with explosions.”

Charlie picks up the remote and leans into Colby when he settles into the corner of the couch. “Lots of explosions or explosions that are plot driven?”

“Something with Vin Diesel.”

“Ah.” Charlie finds the movie channels and scrolls.

#

They join the movie somewhere in the middle. Colby doesn’t care, he’s seen them all at least twice and it’s not like he’s able to actually pay attention anyway; that’s why he wants these movies specifically. He doesn’t have to follow the story, doesn’t even have to actually focus his eyes. The sound of it surrounds them and the feel of Charlie in his arms grounds him, for the most part.

Charlie doesn’t move and Colby realizes, between one car chase and the next, how unusual that is. He’s never noticed before that even when they’re watching tv Charlie’s always in motion. He tucks his hair out of the way, he touches Colby, he talks with his hands when he comments on what they’re watching. He’s never this still. Colby doesn’t try to get a better look at Charlie’s face; he knows that neither of them is really watching the movie and he’s probably staring into the middle distance.

At some point, Colby’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

Charlie leans away, his eyes wide as Colby digs for the phone. “Is it Ian?”

“No, he wouldn’t text.” Not about this, anyway. Colby looks down. “David.” That’s better than Don, who’s equally likely to check up on him these days.

Everything okay? Need help refereeing?

Colby could ignore the text, but that would result in David spending the night quietly concerned and Colby would get a phone call too early in the morning. The text he sends back is the best he can do. Working on it. No need for an assist. He puts the phone away and pulls Charlie back to him.

The credits roll and the commercials start, a strap line of type marches across the bottom of the screen letting them know that the next movie in the series will start after the ads. They stay where they are, waiting.

#

They’re two car chases and a massive explosion into the second movie when Charlie whispers, “Colby, what if—”

“Don’t. Please don’t, Charlie.” Colby really can’t cope with any what if moments. 

Charlie makes a disgruntled sound and settles into him a little more.

#

Colby doesn’t know what time it is or where they are in the movie when he hears a key in the lock. Charlie sits bolt upright and looks like he’s about to stand, but he stays where he is, one hand on Colby’s arm. Colby sits up as well, but keeps his movements slow, a pretense of calm that’s a counterpoint to the way his heartbeat kicks up.

They listen as Ian comes in and locks up behind himself, even takes off his shoes and hangs up his jacket. They look at each other as Ian goes into the kitchen. There’s the sound of glass on glass, and then Ian comes to them, a paper bag in one hand at three short glasses in the other, held by fingers clawing the rims together.

Charlie grabs the remote, clutches it as he turns the TV off.

Ian doesn’t go to the chair or to the couch; he nudges the coffee table a little to make room and sits on it, facing them. The bruise on his face has turned up, dark and impossible to miss, but on the small side—Charlie would’ve messed up his nose or eye if his aim had been better. Their knees touch, one of Ian’s against one each of theirs. He sets the glasses and the bag down next to him on the table before he looks at them, before any of them speak. “My father always said to bring a bottle of something good to any important conversation. My mother told me not to open the bottle until the conversation was finished. I have… not questions, exactly. Points we need to talk about.” He looks at Colby, then at Charlie.

Charlie nods. “Uh-huh. Sure. Anything.”

Colby eases into a comfortable slouch. If Ian intended to opt out he would’ve come in, made his apologies, taken his gun, and left. He might’ve kissed them each again, but Colby doesn’t think so. This though, this sitting and continuing the conversation—this isn’t a decision making conversation any longer. It’s the clarification of data. He’s making sure of a few details. Colby lets himself float on the swells.

#

“I’ve never wanted children,” Ian tells them, “and until a couple of hours ago I would’ve said that they were a deal breaker.” His voice is calm and low and smooth, and he doesn’t wait for them to comment or question. “It’s a testament to both of you that I even paused to consider it, and the world might be coming to an end because it turns out that the concept isn’t a hard no after all, at least not with you. Not if the alternative is walking away right now and not giving this thing a chance to get to the point where these future children are something I need to look at in a concrete way.” Ian licks at his lower lip and then bites it, which is possibly his biggest reaction to just about anything that Colby’s ever seen, outside of his rage and pain inside that prison break room. “How far in the future are they?”

Charlie glances at Colby. His breathing has picked up, but he’s trying so hard to be calm that he’s almost pulling it off. “We don’t know, precisely. Years. We’re not ready yet, we’re not even ready to plan for them, and they’ll take a couple of years to arrive, probably, when we are ready.”

Colby nods when Ian looks at him. “They’re an idea, a goal we’ll meet. But they’re nebulous, more idea than form.” He wants to talk more, tell him about the curly hair and the koi pond, but he knows that shutting up and letting Ian talk right now is necessary—they had their turn already, they’ll get a chance again later.

Ian looks away for a moment, clearly thinking or at least planning how to say what he needs to get out. “I’m taking it as fact that they will exist—I have to, for this. Given that, I need to be crystal clear on what kind of commitment we’re talking about here, aside from exclusive. You’re clearly thinking long term—are you offering me a family as the only option, or is that something separate from whatever the three of us can create? What if we try this and it just doesn’t work? What if I’m away too much for you to be happy, or what if my job is too dark for you? I’m ten years older than you, even more for Charlie. It might be an issue at some point.”

Colby sits up a little more. “Easy, easy.” He resists the urge to put a finger to Ian’s lips, which is an urge he’s never had before, ever. Instead of trying to figure that out, he says, “We want you to be as close to family as you’re willing to be.” Colby leans forward. “Your job doesn’t scare me, and if it gets to Charlie I can help him. If we give this a try and it fails, then it fails. Trying is still better than you leaving right now and none of us getting a chance to find out. If you want to be a father with us when the time comes, we want that. If you want to be an uncle who’s always there but doesn’t have to fret about dentist appointments and tuition, you can be that.”

Ian shakes his head. “I really don’t think you’re an idiot, but you kind of sound like one right now. Do you seriously think that if the three of us build something for years and then there’s a baby I won’t be invested like a parent? That I won’t love that child to the ends of the earth and want to be there every step of the way?”

Colby winces, his breath stolen. “Oh. Right, I guess it sounds pretty dumb.” He looks at Ian and tries to project every bit of sincerity he has. “We’re just trying to tell you the truth of what we want, but at the same time not pressure you into accepting more than you care to. We don’t want you to feel trapped, but we didn’t want to hold out on you, either.”

“I get that,” Ian says softly. “I do. Are you guys completely aware of what you’re promising, though? Have you followed the logic to the end?”

“Teenage boys having to deal with three dads,” Charlie whispers. “It’ll be so awesome.” He looks stunned and reverential.

#

Ian laughs, and it’s so unexpected that Colby twitches before he grins. “And one of them a sniper and another a genius? God.”

Shaking his head but still looking amused, Ian says, “All right. The potential of a family is now something I’m aware of. I’m not jumping the three of us ahead to that point, I’m definitely not ready to start planning a family, but the idea of it isn’t scaring me off. That’s the best I can do right now.”

“Okay,” Charlie says, and he’s still whispering. “That’s good. That’s all we can ask for.”

“There’s a couple of other things.” Ian looks at them both and frowns slightly. “I’m not sure where to start.”

Colby knows all about that; it’s been a constant state for him since he’d gotten the call that Ian was arrested. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “You can go back and forth. Charlie’s pretty bright, he can untangle any knots.”

Charlie rolls his eyes but he reaches over and takes Colby’s hand. “Anything you want to talk about, Ian. It’s fine.”

The knee that’s touching Colby’s nudges a little more firmly. “Don is not going to be happy.”

“It’s not his life,” Charlie says, so fast it had to be prepared.

“No, but it’s something, and Don’s important. And your dad will have an opinion. Everyone will. It’ll be a lot of stress when people start clocking we’re involved.” He gives them a steady look, all sniper-sharp. “I have a suggestion.”

Colby and Charlie exchange a look and nod. If they’d been in denial about any part of this, it was their wider circle. “Okay,” Colby says. “Shoot. Pun intended.”

 “You’re not funny.” Ian flashes him a grin, though. “It’s a matter of logistics and discretion for the sake of comfort. I’m not exactly one to publicize my private life, and I know you two keep things pretty discreet at the office. If we’re starting something, we don’t need an audience. I’m not saying I want to be a dirty secret or the side guy, but I do want time before anyone else knows. Space for us to figure this out, find out what works and what doesn’t.”

It makes sense. Colby rubs his thumb over Charlie’s fingers. “David knows something’s up. He’s going to ask, and I don’t lie to David. If he asks a straight question, I’ll tell him.”

Ian nods, a dip of his chin. “I know. Mike knows, too. The two of them can keep it to themselves, we can bank on that. But can we try to be… I don’t know. Private. For a while.”

Charlie tilts his head, his forehead furrowing as he thinks. “I don’t see why not. I mean, I didn’t think we’d call all our friends tomorrow or anything. I actually kind of thought we’d just let them figure it out on their own. Most of them are investigators, after all.”

“Yeah, well. Your father might clue in when we all show up at the breakfast table and no one slept in the guest room,” Ian points out. “Plus, he’s not deaf.”

#

Charlie’s eyes go wide and Colby’s suddenly trying to figure out how all three of them will fit in Charlie’s bed, anyway. “We need a bigger bed,” he says, trying not to get distracted by the images in his head.

Ian laughs and says, “We need more than that for the first few months. We need privacy. I’d like to make a suggestion, as I said.” He leans forward slightly and reaches into his back pocket to pull out Colby’s keys. “Sublet to me.”

Charlie’s already shaking his head, but not to negate the suggestion. “Not even that.” He lets go of Colby’s hand and twists to face him better, his face animated. “You—we—can keep this place, we’ll all split the rent. I mean, put Ian on the lease with you, his stuff will all fit even if you leave a few things here, and a third of the rent here will probably be less than the room he’s already got. Plus you won’t have to move your furniture. You still move in with me at the house, but don’t stress about the kitchen and things like that—bring your books, leave the bed, the couch, everything we need here, for now. We can come here if we want some privacy even when Ian’s away, and if you need a place to sleep when you’re on a case you won’t have to drive all the way to Pasadena. And the house is paid off, so there’s no rent to pay there.”

Colby looks at Ian. Ian looks at Charlie. Charlie grins at them both, joy coming off him in waves.

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

#

The mood in the room shifts, the triangle they’re making on the couch and table growing closer, charged with rising energy.

“It might be time for the bottle to be opened,” Ian says as he reaches for it. He’s still got his gaze on Charlie though, not looking away, and he doesn’t actually lift the bottle out of its bag.

Colby watches them both, barely breathing as he waits for the new tension to resolve into an intention. They all know what’s next, but none of them seem willing to step off the cliff. Charlie, without even moving his body, is bringing the three of them into a smaller and smaller space, apparently through sheer force of will. Ian’s respiration has picked up, and Colby is fully aware that his own body is beginning to sense something’s about to happen.

Colby tries to gauge what Charlie is feeling. Colby intentionally depersonalized earlier in the day but that’s not a skill Charlie’s ever had to develop. He’s been sliding back and forth between extremes, playful and violent, and Colby needs to know where his head is at. “Charlie? What are you thinking right now?”

Charlie blinks at him, twice, and looks confused. “…That we solved a problem and I don’t have to worry about my dad hearing me say Ian’s name instead of yours?” Maybe the edge of the cliff is closer than Colby thinks.

“You’re not wrong,” Ian says, his smirk growing into something predatory. “What are you thinking, pretty?”

Colby looks Ian in the eye and shows him some truth. “That we need to hurry this conversation along so I can hear Charlie say your name instead of mine.”

Charlie laughs softly but doesn’t move, doesn’t even blush.

Ian says, “All right, let’s talk about that. What do I need to know?” He shrugs one shoulder. “I’m clean, but don’t object to condoms.” He grins and teases, “Any safewords or kinks I should be aware of?”

Colby’s already starting to grin, ready to tease right back, but Charlie cuts in, voice firm. “Colby can’t be restrained. The freighter was bad.”

Ian’s face loses color so fast that Colby reaches out to keep him from falling forward.

#

Ian and Colby talk over each other, hurried and panicked.

“Oh, fuck, did I—”

“No, it’s okay—”

“Oh God, Colby, I didn’t even—oh fuck, Jesus—”

“Stop, stop. Ian.” Colby grabs Ian by his shirt. The tug is too strong and he crashes their mouths together in something that’s a kiss in name only. There’s nothing soft or gentle happening, not even rough and hungry; it’s a series of tight, biting kisses to Ian’s mouth, one after another. Colby lets go of Ian’s shirt and takes his head instead, one hand on Ian’s jaw and the other in his hair, and he keeps up the attack until Ian stops trying to talk. When Ian’s hands fist into Colby’s shirt and his tongue brushes Colby’s lower lip Colby lets him in long enough for the assault to become something better, something greedy but not vicious, not first aid.

“Listen to me,” Colby rasps into Ian’s mouth. He’s holding on too tightly but can’t let go. “I’m all right. You didn’t give me nightmares for tonight.” He’s sure of it. He didn’t dream at all, earlier.

“You don’t know that, you can’t know until morning.”

“Then you better stay and bear witness.”

#

Ian jerks his head in a nod and they share breath for long moment, then Ian kisses him again. Colby lets his eyes drift closed, lets himself fall into this kiss with relief. It’s awkward, one of Colby’s knees pushing into Ian’s, the other wedged against the coffee table, and they’re both leaning forward, but it’s somehow necessary that it be like this. This is a first kiss, a taste and a gift, and Colby tries to memorize it even while it’s happening.

“I’m so sorry,” Ian says when he pulls back far enough to talk. “For all of it.”

“I know.” Colby opens his eyes and finally lets Ian sit up, his hands dropping to Ian’s knees. “It’s going to be okay.”

Ian starts to nod but does a subtle double-take at Charlie. “Um. I… I feel like I should apologize for that?”

Colby watches Charlie shake his head quickly and is caught in a stomach swoop of realization that Charlie’d slipped completely out of his notice. At the same time, Colby’s deeply amused by Charlie’s dilated pupils and stunned expression.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Charlie manages to say. “Please.”

Ian’s color, which was only just starting to normalize, rises a little. “I’m more than happy to keep going, but we really should finish up the talking, maybe?”

Charlie stands up. “Nope. That would just be stalling and it’s already really late. Bedroom.” He has to circle around the coffee table but he’s still heading down the hall before Colby or Ian get with it enough to even stand up.

#

Charlie’s brave and he’s stubborn, and Colby knows he’s probably a bundle of nerves on top of his arousal, so diving head first is the only option Charlie has other than bailing on the situation entirely. Colby looks at Ian, tempted to kiss him again, but it’s probably a much better idea to follow Charlie’s lead. He gets up but doesn’t move out of the way as Ian rises—they’re chest to chest between the couch and the table, so he leans forward just enough to brush their bodies together, a gentle but unsubtle tease. “He doesn’t waste time once he’s made a choice. Lucky for us.”

Ian backs away a half step but puts his hands on Colby’s hips, turning them both slightly to start them down the hall. “So it seems. But I still need to know what you two like. Is there anything I should avoid? Who tops?”

Colby grins at him. “This isn’t a hookup, Ian. The standard negotiations don’t have to happen—it’s fun to find that stuff out as we go.” He angles his head toward the bedroom door. “C’mon, let us show you what we like. There’s no safewords, we haven’t played that rough yet. But for God’s sake, tell us if there’s something we shouldn’t do. Accidental panic attacks kill the mood.”

“I’m surprisingly trauma free when it comes to sex,” Ian says. “Thank God.”

#

In the bedroom the lube is back out of the drawer, tossed onto the middle of the bed, and Charlie’s barefoot and taking off his belt. “So,” he says as they come in, his entire focus on his belt and not on their faces. “Here’s the thing. First times are weird anyway and I’ve never had a threesome before, plus the only guy I’ve ever had sex with is Colby. So I’d like to stick with my comfort zone right now.”

Colby opens his mouth but finds that he doesn’t have actual words to use so he just nods. Charlie’s become more aware of himself over the last couple of years, but this is unusually perceptive. Part of Colby wonders if he snuck in some relationship math about Ian somewhere; he’s acting almost as confident as he did when he first found out that Colby loves him.

Ian steps farther into the room. “Fair enough. I’m willing to take direction as long as I get to touch both of you. Where do you want me?”

Charlie looks up and smiles at him, his eyes grateful and his pupils still dilated. “On the bed, in whatever state of dress or undress you care for. I want to show Colby off a little, and I have a theory to test. So pay attention—there’ll be a quiz later.”

Ian grins. “Nice. I’ll study hard.” His hand drops to his own belt buckle. 

Colby’s knees go a little weak despite how he’s instantly conflicted by how he feels about being shown off—disturbingly turned on by the thought but awkward about the reality. “Charlie?”

“Hey.” Charlie turns the smile on Colby and steps in close. “You looked really hot when you were kissing Ian. I see what you mean about watching. It got me hard.” He tilts his head up just enough to press a kiss to Colby’s mouth. “You just stay exactly as you are for a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”

What else can he do? Colby chases his mouth. “Sure.”

#

Charlie kisses him once more before he turns back to Ian. “Hey,” he says again, and Colby’s not sure if the hint of nerves in Charlie’s voice is enough for Ian to pick up on.

Maybe it is. “Hey, yourself,” Ian says in a voice that’s just above a whisper. “We go your speed, okay?”

Charlie laughs a little, maybe embarrassed but maybe not, and he moves into Ian’s personal space. “What if my speed is this?” he asks, and he kisses Ian almost like the first time he kissed Colby. He may be nervous, but he clearly knows what he wants, and Colby can’t bring himself to even blink as he watches Charlie take Ian’s mouth.

Ian’s not an idiot. He responds with enthusiasm, one hand in Charlie’s curls because that’s the only way to kiss Charlie, really, and the other at Charlie’s waist. Colby can see a fair amount of tongue, but it’s the sounds that get to him, just like he knew it would be. The wet sounds of kissing, the noise that comes from the back of Ian’s throat, and the one Charlie always makes just before he eases back, before he does something that’ll make Colby’s eyes roll back. Colby’s abruptly aware that his cock is hard and he watches Charlie whisper in Ian’s ear.

Ian’s breath catches and he kisses Charlie hard once more before he lets go of him. “Your speed,” he says again, then he steps back and pulls his shirt off over his head.

#

Colby barely has a chance to enjoy the sight and doesn’t get time to identify the smudge of an old tattoo on Ian’s chest before Charlie’s back, batting Colby’s hands away from his fly.

“That’s for me,” Charlie tells him, his eyes hot as he looks at Colby. “All right?”

“Yeah.” Colby nods. He didn’t even know he was undoing his jeans. “Anything.”

“Kiss me.”

It’s not exactly an order but Colby treats it like it is. He kisses Charlie like he always does when he’s worked up, with mouth and hands and his entire existence, and he tastes Ian there. Charlie starts to work on Colby’s shirt buttons and Colby misses the days of Charlie living in t-shirts. He likes that Charlie’s been mostly in dress shirts and ties since he got his new office, but at times like this he misses the ease of stretchy cotton. They get in each other’s way as they make out and try to strip each other, but when Colby tries to shrug his shirt off his shoulders Charlie distracts him by unzipping his jeans and plunging a hand in.

“Lean back,” Charlie tells him. “Don’t fall over.”

Colby realizes Charlie’s backed him into the wall without him even noticing and he suddenly knows exactly what Charlie’s got in mind. Leaning back is like slipping into welcoming waves, and anticipation licks at his spine. “Yeah,” he says with a voice that’s mostly rumble. He shoves at his jeans, a task complicated by the way he’s trying to thrust his dick into Charlie’s hand at the same time. “Suck me.”

#

“We need to make sure Ian can see.” Charlie’s voice is more rasp than rumble and he moves to the side a little, his hand tight on Colby’s erection. “It wouldn’t be fair to test him later without making sure he has full access to the source material.”

Colby glances at Ian and his cock throbs. “This isn’t going to last long if you keep teasing, light of my life.”

Ian’s still standing at the foot of the bed, like he was making his way around to the far side, trying to follow Charlie’s orders. His shirt is off, his jeans are still on but the top button is undone, and he’s got a hand over himself—Colby can’t tell if he was adjusting, squeezing, or rubbing, but it doesn’t matter. Ian’s there, he’s hard, and he’s looking at Charlie’s hand wrapped around Colby’s prick.

Charlie looks at Ian, too, then at Colby’s cock, then at Colby’s face. “You do your best to hang on, I’ll do my best to get you off.” He brushes his free hand up Colby’s stomach, over his chest to make sure Colby’s open shirt isn’t in the way, and he drops to his knees. “Watch me or watch him. Whatever does it for you right now.” Charlie looks up at Colby, his eyes nearly black, and licks at the head of Colby’s cock.

“Jesus.” Colby whispers it, but he’s pretty sure he hears it echoed across the room. He keeps looking at Charlie for now, not wanting to miss the sight of his dick slipping into Charlie’s mouth, in and in and in.

#

Charlie’s focused and wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to do his best to get Colby off. He’s got one hand on Colby’s hip, gripping hard, and the other stays around the base of Colby’s erection for the first few pulls. Colby’s jeans aren’t down as low as he’d like, only about mid-thigh, but that’s hardly something to bitch about.

When Charlie closes his eyes and puts both hands on Colby’s hips, Colby moans in anticipation and gathers a fistful of curls, careful not to pull too hard. He wants to look at Ian, wants to see where he is, if he’s watching, but he can’t quite keep himself from waiting just a little longer.

Charlie’s fingers dig in and he goes down until Colby’s hitting soft tissue and they both groan. Colby’s fingers flex and he pulls Charlie off him until he’s just barely inside and Charlie opens his eyes again. Colby nods and Charlie does what Charlie does—fast, deep, and wet, his mouth sliding up and down steadily, his tongue pressing.

The sound of bedding shifting makes Colby finally look up. Ian’s watching even as he stacks pillows and crawls onto the bed. His jeans are still on, but his feet are bare and his pants are open. Colby can see the flash of his underwear distended by his erection at the open fly. Ian leans back, sprawls on the pillows. He meets Colby’s gaze as he shoves his hand inside his jeans.

#

Colby moans again and his grip on Charlie’s hair tightens as he watches Ian. Charlie groans in response and sucks, goes down a little too far and almost chokes which shouldn’t be as hot as it is but makes Colby’s cock swell even harder.

Ian smirks and strokes himself, his hand and all that fabric hiding what Colby wants to see. Ian’s gaze drops back to Colby’s dick and Colby can’t help but look down.

Charlie’s hands drift from Colby’s hips, giving him some freedom of movement, but he’s speeding up as well, sucking harder, pulling off to lick and stroke, and every time Colby guides him back Charlie grunts and takes him in deeper. When Charlie shoves his hand into his own pants, like Ian, Colby’s eyes roll back and he loses his self-control enough to use the hand in Charlie’s hair to keep him still, fucking into Charlie’s mouth with quick jerks of his hips. Charlie moans, loudly, and he strokes himself in time with Colby’s thrusts.

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Ian whispers from the bed and Colby looks at him, sees his hand around his cock, stroking in long, slow pulls. He’s enjoying the view, not working toward orgasm yet, and Colby would love to hold off, too, but it’s too late.

“Charlie. Close.”

Charlie yanks his hand off himself and puts both hands back on Colby’s hips, guiding him to speed up.

“Take it, it’s yours,” Colby manages to say, trying desperately not to pull Charlie’s hair, trying so hard not to choke him as he lets go, lets the tight heat of release flow through him as he comes.

#

Colby’s glad for the wall as he stands there, leaning back and trying to catch his breath. Charlie’s still on his knees, licking and nuzzling and bringing him down despite the fact that Ian’s masturbating on their bed. Colby’s messed up Charlie’s curls but he keeps petting them, keeps touching Charlie as the last tremors roll through him. He looks at Ian and knows the smile he’s wearing is probably come-dumb and ridiculous, but he doesn’t care. “Charlie. I’m good. Go see Ian.”

Charlie doesn’t stop, not until he’s sucked Colby’s half-hard prick a couple more times. “Just because you came doesn’t mean you’re done,” he says into Colby’s thigh.

Ian laughs softly and rolls off the bed. “Let the man do what he’s going to do, pretty.” 

Colby nods and pets Charlie again. “Ian’s getting naked,” he points out.

Charlie makes a little humming sound, sucks him again, and backs away. “Good idea.”

Colby hauls him up and kisses him, tastes himself in Charlie’s mouth. He reaches down as he breaks the kiss and strokes Charlie’s erection. “You, too. Get undressed and on the bed.”

“My lead?”

“Your lead. Whatever you want, promise.”

Charlie kisses him once more and steps back to finish stripping.

#

Colby pushes his own jeans the rest of the way off and finally drops his shirt to the floor as well. Charlie’s clothes come off quickly, efficiently, and he’s crawling onto the bed—onto Ian—before Colby’s got his socks off. They’re a study in contrasts, Ian smooth and sleek against all of Charlie’s body hair.

Ian looks a little startled to find himself sprawled back on the pillows again, but this time with Charlie on top of him.

“Quiz time,” Charlie says as he reaches for the lube. “Did you see?”

“Yeah.” Ian glances at Colby before looking back up at Charlie’s face. “Trust me, I watched.”

“Did you notice?”

Ian’s eyes narrow but he nods. “Yeah. You want that?”

Charlie nods back at him as he spills lube into the palm of his hand. “Will you do it?” He closes the bottle and puts it back on the bed, using both hands to warm the slick on his hand.

Ian looks back at Colby, who suddenly remembers to move to the bed. Ian’s gaze goes back to Charlie. “I will, but not tonight. And you better be sure, Charlie.”

Charlie beams at him and looks down. “Oh, I am.” Then he reaches for Ian’s cock and takes him in hand.

#

Colby has no idea what they’re talking about and decides he doesn’t care, not right now. He stretches out next to them, close enough to touch, and focuses on getting to enjoy one of his shower fantasies for real. Ian gasps as Charlie plays with him, exploring the shape of his erection.

“Kiss him, Charlie,” Colby says. “I want to see you that way.”

Charlie and Ian both groan and Colby’s rewarded with the perfect view of them making out, touching each other, moving together. Ian’s hands skate from Charlie’s hips to his thighs, to his arms and shoulders, like he wants to feel all of him at once and can’t make up his mind where to start.

Colby knows he’s not going to get off again, not tonight, but his arousal can’t be completely denied and he’s not about to ignore it. He presses one hand to his own cock, just because it feels good, and listens to the way Charlie’s starting to gasp in a distinct rhythm.

“Let him grind on you,” he tells Ian. He shifts a little closer and gets the lube as he presses along Ian’s arm. “And when you jerk him off he likes a tight hand, tighter than most.”

Ian moans and his hips jerk up. Colby looks down Ian’s torso to watch the way Charlie's stroking him, sees how much they’re both leaking. “God, look at you. Lean up, Charlie.”

Charlie nods and doesn’t say anything, but he pushes himself up, leaning back to straddle Ian’s hips again, out of Colby’s way.

Colby wiggles down and licks at both of them just to get a taste. They both cry out so he adds a fast suck to the head of Ian’s cock, then one to Charlie’s before he backs away again. “More lube?” he offers.

“Colby likes it really wet,” Charlie says, and Ian grabs Charlie’s hips, thrusts up hard. “Oh, shit. Ian.”

#

Colby doesn’t exactly back away but he gives them room because he knows that tone of voice and he can see the way Ian’s thighs are starting to tremble. Charlie’s hand speeds up on Ian’s dick and he’s grinding down, hard, his balls pressing into his own fist.

“C’mon, Charlie,” Colby says. He climbs up the bed again and Ian’s back is starting to arch, his hips rolling. “Ian, he’s going to come for you.”

Ian turns his head just enough to stare at Colby. “Kiss me. Kiss me while he shoots on me.”

Colby’s semi tries to become more and he kisses Ian, moaning, one hand going to Charlie’s thigh to be a part of this.

“Yes,” Charlie gasps. “Oh. Oh, now. Now.”

Ian and Colby break their kiss and both look, watching Charlie’s face and then his cock as he comes, spilling on Ian’s smooth stomach, across his dick, over Charlie’s hand.

“Charlie!” Ian’s hips jerk hard, almost lifting them both off the bed as he lets go as well, adding to their mess.

Colby’s balls throb and he grins, falling back on the bed as Ian and Charlie start kissing each other again, their hips still rocking gently together.

#

Cleaning up isn’t as involved as earlier in the evening when it was just him and Charlie but it does take a few minutes to get moving, to wash off three bodies, to find a spare toothbrush for Ian. Then there’s the quick tour Colby does of the apartment to put things away and check the locks, and the gathering up of all the clothes scattered around.

Eventually the three of them are back in bed, lazily trading kisses and enjoying the afterglow. They don’t actually decide to leave any further heavy discussions until the next day, but none of them seems inclined to talk about anything more difficult than who is going to sleep where.

“Trust me, you want Charlie in the middle.” Colby reaches down to the floor and tries to find a missing pillow without getting up. “He throws off a lot of heat, but it’ll save one of us from crawling over him in the morning.”

“What if I want someone crawling over me in the morning?” Charlie says. He sounds like he’s trying to laugh, but he’s half asleep so it’s mostly a slur of half-formed words.

“Please. You wouldn’t wake up if we both crawled over you.”

Ian produces the pillow from his side of the bed. “Seriously?”

Colby nods. “You’ll see. There’s a reason I have two alarms set, and neither of them are for me.”

“I would hope not.” Ian winks at him. “You and me, we can intuit the time by feel.”

“Sure.” Colby drags the comforter up and reaches for the light. “Unless my blackout curtains are closed. Then I’m a mess.”

In the dark, the three of them shift around for a couple of moments until no one has an elbow or knee poking them and the last of the kisses have been applied. Charlie, in the middle, has managed to curl one arm over Colby without clinging to him, and Ian’s got enough space that even if Charlie rolls over no one is going to fall out of bed.

Charlie falls asleep easily, quickly, and Colby tries to figure out if a king sized bed will fit in this room. He hears Ian’s breath slow and even out, hears when Ian wakes up enough to find a slightly more comfortable spot on his pillow. Colby doesn’t fall asleep until Ian’s out again, his breathing matching Charlie’s so perfectly that Colby smiles. They’re safe, all of them, and he drifts off finally content enough to let go of everything but the sensation of being loved and cherished.

He’s reasonably confident that the feeling will hold at least until after breakfast and reality starts throwing curves at them.

His last thought as he falls asleep is that they’ll figure it out. They’re too stubborn not to.

Chapter Text

Colby wakes up just before five and slides out of bed as quietly as he can. Charlie’s curled himself into a ball, an amazing feat given the fact that there’s three grown men in the bed, but it means Colby doesn’t have to disentangle himself as he gets up. He’s barely out of the bed before Charlie expands slightly to take advantage of the warm spot Colby’s leaving him, and one sleepy hand snags Colby’s pillow. For Charlie, it’s a lot of early morning movement, really.

The door to the bedroom has been open all night but Colby pulls it nearly closed as he leaves the room so the light from the kitchen won’t annoy Ian. He has no doubt that Ian woke up as soon as Colby got out of bed, but he might be able to go back to sleep if Colby keeps things quiet and dark.

In the kitchen, Colby starts to get the coffee maker ready. He could probably do it in the dark, but if he miscounts the number of scoops for the first pot of the day they’ll all pay a price, so he’s got the under-counter lights on.

He hears faint steps and then Ian pads into the room behind him. “Are you always naked when you make coffee?” Ian asks quietly. “I approve.”

Colby grins. “Sometimes.” He looks over his shoulder and eyes Ian. The faded tattoo is an eagle, wings spread. “It’s not an official dress code, but I appreciate you joining in.” He skips the timer on the coffee maker and pushes the button to start the machine right away. “Did I wake you?”

Ian shrugs and walks to him, one hand absently scratching his stomach. “Sort of? You know what it’s like. Strange bed, someone moves, you wake up. Good morning.” There’s a dark stain of bruising and a slight puffiness on his cheek, evidence of Charlie’s punch. Colby thinks it looks great.

“Good morning.” Colby lets Ian walk right into him and absolutely loves that they both avoid the whole issue of morning breath by scattering kisses on other places—shoulder, neck, jaw. Ian’s still sleep-warm, and Colby enjoys the way one of Ian’s hands curls on his hip, the other smoothing down Colby’s back.

“Your face looks awesome,” Colby tells Ian as he brushes his fingers over the swelling around the bruise.

Ian rolls his eyes. “Amazing.”

“No, really.” Colby grins broadly at him. “It makes you look tough.”

“Shut up.” Ian’s grinning too as he draws Colby closer to him and nuzzles into his neck. He leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses to Colby’s shoulder. “This okay?” he whispers.

Colby can’t come up with a reason why it couldn’t be perfectly okay. “Of course.” His own hands are exploring—ribs, hip bones, the dip at the top of Ian’s butt, just above his tailbone. Colby’s dick is taking a particular interest and so is Ian’s. “Very okay.”

Ian laughs into Colby’s neck and kisses him there. “Charlie’s not going to be pissed?”

Colby shakes his head, but he pulls back a little. “No. Why would he be? Is this one of those things you wanted to talk about last night?”

Ian doesn’t let him get too far away. “Yeah, sort of. Not making out in the kitchen specifically, just moments like this. There’s three of us, but I don’t think it’s practical to function only as three. I wanted to check.”

“No, you’re right.” Colby’s hand strays lower, over Ian’s ass. “I mean, me and Charlie are hardly going to keep our hands off each other when you’re not around, right? Making out in the kitchen at five in the morning is fine.”

“Why are you up this early?” Ian doesn’t seem to mind being groped and he does a little exploring himself.

“I usually go for a run, but I’m skipping it today.” Colby’s breath catches as Ian’s fingers dig into his hip. “Want to take a shower with me?”

“If you mean do I want to jerk you off under hot water, yes.”

#

Colby winds up with his hands flat on the shower wall, leaning forward as Ian strokes him off from behind. He can feel Ian’s cock angled up between the cheeks of his ass, and Ian’s whispering in his ear, half the words getting lost in the sound of the shower. He’s talking about how Colby and Charlie looked, how he can’t wait to get Charlie’s mouth on him, how he wants to be next to them next time so he can touch. 

Colby nods, his eyes closed as the water flows over him. “I want to suck you,” Colby tells him. “Later. I want to watch you with Charlie.”

Ian’s hand gets a little faster, a little tighter. “I want to find out what you like best. I want to lay you down and hear you let go, I want to hear you say my name when you come.”

“Keep doing what you’re doing and that’s going to happen soon,” Colby tells him.

Ian laughs in his ear and twists his wrist a bit on the next stroke. “I’m going shopping later. We need more lube, and better quality. I know a place in West Hollywood.” His thumb presses over the head of Colby’s dick. “Spread your legs, just a bit.”

Colby does and gasps as the angles all change slightly. He can feel Ian pushing against him, thrusting faster, and Ian’s grip quickens. “Close.”

“Say my name,” Ian growls. “I’m with you. Make me come.”

Colby’s balls lift and everything goes tight. “Ian!” It’s not exactly following an order, but Colby’s right there, and if Ian wants to hear him, he’s going to get what he wants. “Fuck. Now, Ian.” He gasps out Ian’s name again as he tumbles, shooting against the tiles.

Ian swears and thrusts again, hard and fast, as Colby comes in his hand. “Colby. Yes. Yeah, like that.” He stills, his cock pulsing against Colby’s ass and lower back. “God. Perfect. You’re perfect.”

#

“I missed it?” Charlie blinks sleepily at him. “Dang. Was it pretty?”

Colby, already dressed for work, smiles. “I’m sure it was. We’ll re-enact it at some point, I’m sure. Come on, you’re going to be late if you don’t get in the shower right now. Coffee is ready and Ian’s making eggs for breakfast.”

Charlie flips the covers back and looks down at his morning wood. “So sad.”

“Do you really want me to rush you through a quickie? Because if you’re late for classes you know you’ll get asked why.”

“I guess not.” Charlie sighs. “It’s better when you take your time, anyway. But I get to go first tonight.” Charlie rolls out of the bed. “There’s going to be a tonight, right? How long is Ian in town?”

“Yes, and I’m not sure. Hit the shower and we’ll talk about it.”

#

“At least a week, maybe two,” Ian tells them. He’s getting his gun from the safe, along with Colby’s. “Today and tomorrow are going to be eaten up with meetings and phone calls while they figure out what to do with me and decide if there’s going to be a full disciplinary hearing or not. Then I’ll probably be put on some kind of leave which I can spend here, unless they try to take the whole mess back to the Hoover Building. I’m going to fight to stay in LA while it gets sorted, though.”

“You don’t seem too worried about the sanctions.” Colby takes his backup gun and holsters it at the small of his back, next to his handcuffs. His primary is already on his hip.

Ian shrugs. “I knew there was going to be blowback, there has to be. It’s not the first time—my file makes for interesting reading, I’m told.”

Charlie’s hair is still damp while he eats his breakfast, but his tie is on and he looks no more post-coital than normal, to Colby’s relief. He keeps looking at Ian’s bruise and seems torn between guilt and pride. He says, “I’ll cross my fingers for a long stay but for good reasons.” He glances at Colby and then back at Ian. “Dad’s going to want to see us all tonight, so plan to be at the house—it’s easier to get it over with than drag it out.”

Ian raises an eyebrow and Colby nods. “Better get used to it while we’re still keeping things private.”

Charlie nods, too. He knows what his dad is like. “He’ll want to see Colby for sure, to make sure he’s okay, and he’s going to give you some serious side-eye, Ian. Sorry.” He makes an apologetic face and adds, “We need to figure out how to get back here for the night without making it look too suspicious.”

“Tonight’ll be easy enough, I think,” Colby says, “The trick is going to be coming up with a reason for us to stay here for the whole time Ian’s in town. I can try to think up a reason I need to be here—if I have an excuse Charlie can just say he’s going to stay with me. It might be a little odd, but if we drop by the house fairly regularly Alan won’t complain too much.”

“If you say so.” Ian finishes the last of his coffee. “All I have to do is just not tell anyone that I’m sleeping here instead of anywhere else. As for tonight, you guys leave first and I’ll just play another game of pool or something before I excuse myself for the night. Or I’ll let your dad have it out with me, since it’s probably best to get back on his good side as soon as I can.”

Colby grins. “You’re not wrong. Robin is definitely going to stay his favorite, though. There’s no point in fighting it.”

Ian’s eyes narrow.

#

David’s already at his desk when Colby gets in, but he doesn’t ask any questions until Colby’s got his computer booting up and is heading for the coffee pot. David trails along, pretending to talk about a basketball game, but as soon as they’re alone he says, “How did it go? Did Ian and Charlie talk?”

“They did.” Colby nods and gets the milk out of the fridge. “We all did. It took a while, but we got everything sorted out.”

“Yeah?” David leans on the counter. “How angry was Charlie?”

Colby pours coffee and keeps his eyes on his cup as he considers his answer. “Pretty angry. And worried, and scared, and everything else all at once. He used the time to express himself. Ian took it—he kind of had to.”

David nods and makes sounds of agreement. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Seriously?” David’s tone is the one Colby hates, the one that translates to Don’t be a dumbass, dumbass.

Colby glances around them and finally looks at David. “I said a lot of what I had to say while we were still locked up, and the rest of it after Charlie was finished. It was tough, I can’t say it wasn’t.” That’s a truth that David can have without any effort. “We’re all okay now. It was a long night.”

“Uh-huh. So, do you have anything to tell me this morning?” His smile grows knowing and he actually wiggles his eyebrows.

Colby spots Don walking through the office. “Not here, not right now.” He gives David a smile that feels weary. “Sorry. I need to have a word with Don before things get busy.”

This time David’s noises are more frustration than anything else. “You’re killing me here, man.”

Colby’s smile flashes into a grin. “You’ll live. We’ll talk later.”

#

Don’s carrying files from his desk in the bullpen into his actual office, so Colby follows him in and closes the door. “Hey. I need some personal time this morning if we don’t catch a case. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so, but I’ve got an appointment at ten.”

“Yeah?” Don glances at him as he opens his filing cabinet. “You okay? Did you get hurt yesterday after all?”

Colby shakes his head. “Not that kind of doctor.”

“Ah.” Don nods at the files in the drawer. “Sure. The guy that Charlie found, right? You like him okay?”

It takes a moment but Colby makes an agreeable sound. He doesn’t mind Don knowing he’s in therapy, but they’ve never really talked about it, aside from requests like this for unscheduled personal time. “He’s good, yeah. He seems to think that being held hostage by someone I like and trust is worth an immediate conversation, though.”

Don flips through folders and files the new ones. “Therapists, man. They’re dicks, but they’re usually right about these things.” He’s rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling as well.

“I’ll bring back lunch.”

“You don’t need to do that, but you might want to figure out a nice wine for Dad later. I got an earful last night, waiting for you and Charlie to show up.” He turns from the cabinet and heads to the door. “It took me far too long to realize you and Charlie were probably dealing with Ian at your place instead of having it out at the house.”

Colby decides to let Ian and Charlie field all the questions about the bruise, even if telling Don about the punch would be fun. He makes a face instead and says, “Charlie needed a little bit of space to properly express himself, and Ian needed to listen to it without the whole family watching.”

“I bet. They’re good, though?”

“Yep. It was all very adult.” He follows Don out of the office trying not to laugh at himself. Very adult, indeed.

#

It’s just after nine-thirty when Megan looks up from her computer and says, “Oh, dear. Incoming, Don.”

Colby’s facing the same direction she is so he sees it as well. “Some guy in a very expensive suit, backed up by three agents from the white collar unit,” he tells David quietly. “The suit looks pissed, white collar looks worried. Well, Wing does, and he’s usually pretty chill.”

“Fifty dollars says there’s a body count of at least three.”

“Now or by the end of the case?”

“Now.”

“No bet. Of course they’ve got bodies. They don’t come to us until that happens.”

They all turn to look as Don stands up to greet the new arrivals. He “accidentally” smacks them both with a file as he walks by. “Can I help you?”

“SSA Eppes?” the suit asks.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m Dane Bailey, State Department.” He shakes Don’s hand and gestures to the others. “Agents Friedman, Wing, and O’Brien, from white collar. We’ve got a situation.”

Don nods. “Glad to help if we can.”

Bailey hands over a thick file. “A very large counterfeit passport operation went unexpectedly violent last night. We’ve got nine dead and sixteen missing, including two undercover agents. They were taken as a group to a secondary location and we can’t find them.”

#

Don leads everyone into the war room and gives Wing access to the computers so he can pull up everything to the big screens. Colby slides off to the side, phone in hand to text Nick and postpone his ten o’clock appointment, but Don gets to him first. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Take off, call in when you’re done and we’ll tell you where to report back.”

Colby meets his eye and shakes his head. “This is my job.”

“I need you able to do your job. I know we don’t talk about stuff like this, Colby, but I’m perfectly aware that sometimes appointments should be kept. I’ve got a full roster of agents here, the first half hour is going to be catching up on their case and going to the crime scene. Go, or I’ll tell Charlie.”

“Fuck’s sake.” Colby rolls his eyes and puts his phone away. “One of these days I’ll be sitting in there bitching about you.”

“But not today, brother.” Don grins at him and walks away.

#

Nick hands him a cup of coffee Colby didn’t ask for and he stops pacing long enough to take it, but he doesn’t go to sit down on the couch. “Thanks.”

Nick, however, eases himself into the same chair he always uses and says, “Let me make sure I’m clear about this. After talking to you yesterday I didn’t expect our first topic to be how weird it is that Don didn’t keep you back to work a case. That’s really what we’re going to start with, Don sending you to therapy instead of keeping you at the office?”

Colby shrugs. “It’s the newest weird thing, I guess. I mean, it’s a big case and we got brought in less than twenty minutes ago, and yet… he sent me to therapy.”

“Maybe because he thinks that what happened with Ian is bigger for you than this case is going to be.”

“He can’t know that yet. And he doesn’t even know the half of it.” Colby scowls at his coffee. “You know, I usually like how close the team is. I like how Don and I are with each other these days, I like that everyone knows a lot about each other but there’s still space for privacy. I’m not sure I like this.”

“Which part? Not working the start of the case or Don sending you here?”

There’s something there, but Colby can’t see it, not really. It’s dark and uncomfortable and it’s anchored somewhere deep. “I don’t like that he thinks I need to be here, right now. It’s like he… ” Colby feels around the edges. “He thinks I need to get unfucked up about what happened at the prison. Don thinks I’m not at a hundred percent.” Don thinks Colby’s a liability at the moment.

“Two things,” Nick says, and his voice is firm in a way it rarely is. “One, you called me yesterday because you know you need to talk about what happened. You also told Don you were coming here, so Don’s merely making sure you get what you already think you need. From what you’ve told me, Don’s done enough therapy to know it helps him so, again—he’s just making sure you get what you need. Two, you did actually have a rough experience and the effects of that are going to linger, no matter how much talking you did last night. Time is absolutely a factor here, both in dealing with the trauma aspects as soon as possible and also in terms of how long the healing will take. Which means, logically, that while you are perfectly capable of working the case, your more personal thought processes may be coloring your perception at the moment.”

#

Colby walks around the room and tries to parse what Nick’s saying. “Are you telling me I’m reading too much into Don sending me here? Projecting?”

Nick smiles a little. “That, and you still occasionally feel that therapy is for other people and resent being here. I don’t get offended by it. You’d be surprised how often it comes up in this room, given the kinds of careers and lives most of my clients lead. Institutions that expect men and women to suck it up on a constant basis leave sticky fingerprints in the minds of those men and women.”

That makes Colby sit down, abruptly. “Do I really? Resent being here sometimes?”

“Not often, and usually it’s when you’ve either just finished some hard work or are about to make a breakthrough. This time I think it’s because you anticipated the need and called me. It’s the first time you’ve reached out in quite that way, and it can cause a bit of a shake-up. Progress like this, anticipating a need, it’s a big step.”

“Huh.” Colby finally tastes his coffee, which is hot and black, just like always. “Interesting. I don’t know what to do with that.”

“You don’t have to do anything with it. But it might be a good idea if you tell me about what happened at the prison, and then about last night.”

#

Colby knows that Nick’s blocked off two hours for him, but he doesn’t expect to use them. Then he starts talking. And talking. And talking. Reciting the actual events at the prison takes a fair amount of time on its own, and what happened at the apartment even longer. Nick doesn’t say a single word as Colby spills it all out, not even when Colby tells him about having sex with Charlie before Ian got to his apartment. Nick does lift an eyebrow when Colby tells him about the babies he wants to have with Charlie and Ian. By the time Colby’s recounted Ian’s return from his walk, and everything they’d discussed and agreed to, his voice is hoarse and he’s on his second cup of coffee. He finishes with, “So then we all went to bed, Charlie took charge of what kind of sex we had, which was good, and orgasms were had. This morning Ian and I got off in the shower while Charlie slept in, then we had breakfast together and went to work.”

Nick inhales deeply. “Well. You know we’re going to be talking about all of this for a while, right? There’s a lot there—this isn’t a one-and-done kind of situation.”

Colby doesn’t bother to nod. He’s fully aware, and he knows that Nick knows.

“I’m going to ask the recurring trauma questions first—did you have any dreams last night that were upsetting?”

“No. I’m not sure I had any dreams at all, really. Definitely nothing about being tied up, or being captured.”

Nick’s expression doesn’t change, but his shoulders get a little looser. Colby decides to take that as a big sign of relaxation. “That’s good,” Nick says. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Off and on. I got enough, but it’s always weird when you share a bed with someone new. I didn’t sleep super well when Charlie and I first started spending the night together either, not until I got used to him.”

“That’s reasonable.” Nick settles back in his chair and Colby braces himself to be studied. Nick hadn’t stopped watching him while Colby talked, and he’s not looking away now—if anything he’s becoming more intent.

#

“Let’s talk a little about expectations and what you’ve learned about both Ian and Charlie in the last two days.” Colby knows he’s making some kind of face, but he’s not sure what it is. Nick just looks vaguely amused. “What did you learn about Ian?”

“Jeeze, start with the easy ones, why don’t you?” Colby gripes. He resists the urge to look up at the ceiling. “Okay. Well, we got confirmation that Ian gets vicious when he’s trying to run from something. I kind of assumed that something ugly happened with him and Weston, and now I know just how brutal Ian can get when he feels like he doesn’t have options. And I learned that he’s going to have to figure out how to talk to us before he gets to that point again, or this isn’t going to work.”

Nick nods slowly. “You did a good job in the moment of pointing out some boundaries. I’m thinking specifically about him using your trauma against you. What will happen if he does it again?”

Colby’s stomach goes sour and it takes him a moment to speak. “Then we’re done. He did it to push me away, to hurt me and save himself some pain, but it was…” Colby’s tongue tangles around a word, an entire concept, and he rubs at his chest before he can stop himself. He whispers, “If he does it again it will be abuse. I’ll have to cut him from my personal life, and I probably wouldn’t be able to work with him again, either.”

Nick lets him sit with the ache of it for a few moments.

#

“Do you think it’s over and done with? What happened in the prison?”

Colby finally looks up at the ceiling, rests his head on the back of the couch. “I want it to be.”

“Of course. And you’re incredibly skilled at compartmentalizing, even excluding the depersonalization you do in your job. As an aside, do you still think of Don as two or even three separate entities?”

Colby shakes his head, rolls his neck on the couch. “Not three. Very occasionally two, the boss Don and the friend Don, but that’s getting less frequent. The Don that’s only Charlie’s big brother is gone. He’s mostly just Don now, like David is just David, even when he’s my supervisor.”

“Good. Integration is frequently the best tool. By doing that over the last few months with Don, you’ve seen how you need to give yourself time to make those connections, both through intention and experiences. It’s been, what? Thirty-six hours since Ian grabbed you and held a gun to your head.”

“I know.” Colby sighs and looks at him. “But I do think we made a good start.”

“I agree.” Nick nods at him. “I think you did, too. Each of you was proactive, you all did what you could to start things healing. You told me about how Charlie has started to deal with his anger over Ian’s actions, and how you’ve explained yours away to them and to yourself—which we’ll be talking about next time. Ian hasn’t expressed any anger at all, and hasn’t talked about his fears or regrets. He’s tacitly accepted your justification, but he hasn’t really dug any deeper than agreeing with you. How do you see things playing out over the next little while?”

#

Colby stares at him. After a moment he realizes his mouth is open but he has no idea what to say, so he closes it and tries to think; Nick actually expects an answer. Eventually, he sighs and says, “I guess we’ll all be on our best behavior for a while. Things will be smooth while Ian’s in town this time, ‘cause we’re all trying so hard. And we’ll probably have a lot of sex, which always makes things happier and easier.”

Nick nods. “It does, and you’re right. But you’ve also started in the right direction—you and Charlie took the time to explain to Ian how you structure parts of your relationship, and how you communicate with each other. As you said, you’re still going to have to learn how to communicate with Ian, and he’s going to have to learn how to communicate with you both, together and individually. It’s going to be different.”

“Everything about Ian is different.” Colby wants to check the time but Nick always notices and uses it to point out that Colby’s uncomfortable. Then he asks why, and Colby hates that. “I guess we’ll see how it goes. I figure the honeymoon stage might be longer than normal, since Ian’s gone so much.”

“Or that might be a stressor.” Nick, bless him, looks at his own watch, but he doesn’t tell Colby how much time they have left. “I think the key thing for you to realize right now is that while you all talked about what happened at the prison as frankly as you could, the feelings will resurface, probably when it’s most inconvenient. You might find yourself suddenly angry at him, apparently for no reason. You’ve got an inner protector that you’re working on, and that might come out when you’re dealing with something else entirely. You may try to protect Charlie from him, emotionally.”

Colby nods. It makes sense. “So how do we navigate that, when it happens? What if it’s Charlie who gets mad, or even Ian?”

Nick smiles at him. “Well, I guess that’s the thing, isn’t it? Why don’t you tell me?”

#

Because Colby’s both stubborn and determined, he makes it through the next ten minutes of brainstorming more and more bizarre situations and conversations with Charlie and Ian. It’s deeply unsettling, and he tells Nick he’d much rather spend the first day of his new relationship reveling in the emotions that feel good rather than anticipating the ones that feel bad. Nick sympathizes, sort of, and points out that what Colby’s doing is making sure that the relationship has a good chance of success.

“You’re building a foundation. Ideally, all three of you would be thinking about things like these possible situations, but since I only work with you, you get the heavy lifting in this room. If it makes you feel any better, on a personal level I’m really happy for you. I’m glad that you’ve come to terms with your feelings for Ian, I’m freaking delighted that you and Charlie talked about it before all of this happened so you knew where you stood. I think you made the best of a shitty situation when Ian accidentally forced your hand before you were ready.”

Colby’s staring at the ceiling again. “Well, that’s a relief, at least. If you thought we’d fucked it all up I don’t know what I’d do—I mean, we’re really trying our best here.”

“I know. I think it’s safe to say that Ian probably knows that, too. Now, I have about five minutes before I send you back to work and I’m going to do my best to get you into the proper frame of mind. I can’t in good conscience send you to a crime scene when your head is full of your boyfriend and your other boyfriend and how soon you can get your hands on either of them.”

“Both of them.” Colby lifts his head so he can grin at Nick.

“Right, that.” Nick rolls his eyes. “So, tell me about the case you got this morning. Broad strokes, everything you know, even if it’s just the names of the agents and the expressions on their faces.”

So Colby tells him about the State Department rolling up, about the missing undercover agents and the forgers they were with, and about the complex world of counterfeiting until he is firmly in the right headspace for work.

#

He texts Don and David to tell them he’s available and asks where they want him, getting an address in reply from Don and a message from David saying he’s got Colby’s Kevlar with him, don’t waste time.

The address Don sends him to is awash with police and FBI vehicles when Colby arrives, most of the cars with lights flashing, and traffic is closed off in a four block radius. Colby gets out of his car and sees Megan making a beeline for him, his vest in her hand. “Sorry I’m late to the party,” he says as he straps it on and adjusts his holsters over the extra girth. “What’s the situation?”

“We got lucky,” she says. “One of the undercover agents was able to turn on a cell phone long enough for us to get a location. No conversation, but the GPS came on nice and strong. SWAT tried a quiet breach but it went sideways—Tim King is pissed like you wouldn’t believe. So now we’re in a standoff.” She holds up two earwigs and connects his to the transmitter on his back before starting to fit her own. “Don’s in the van with the negotiation team, running tactics and retrieval. We’re patched in. Do you want an assault rifle or do you want to stick with your pistols?”

Colby gets his earpiece in and hears nothing but the faint hum of an open line. “Don, it’s Colby. Megan wants to know if I need an assault rifle.”

“Go find King—he’ll let you know. Give me your position when you’re in place.”

Colby nods at Megan. It’s time to work.

#

Colby and Megan are both sent to David’s side, which is exactly where Colby prefers to be. They don’t have eyes on Liz or Nikki, but their voices come through loud and clear when confirming their positions, and David gives Colby the signal to take point for him and Megan. David knows that Colby’s worked with King often enough that he’s the best choice for a smooth relay of information.

Don’s passing along facts as he gets them and as they’re pertinent: all of the missing people are still alive, though some are injured; the undercover agents haven’t been made, but the arrival of law enforcement has thrown everything into chaos; the team who took the counterfeiters doesn’t know how they were found; there’s increasing stress inside the building, and the danger level is rising exponentially. Negotiations aren’t working.

“Get ready,” Don says in their ears. “On my mark—King’s handling his team, we’re support. Got that? My mark, not SWAT.”

“Got it,” Liz says.

“Roger.” Nikki sounds calmer than usual; maybe King should be interested in getting her SWAT trained. Colby makes a distant mental note to bring it up, much later.

“Got it,” Colby says after he sees both David and Megan nod.

Colby sets his stance and keeps his eyes forward, all of his attention on the second floor and the fire escape that’s two windows in from the building’s edge. SWAT starts moving, two battering rams at the ready, and the window Colby’s watching is suddenly lit from inside. “Don, I’ve got movement.”

There’s a pause, long enough for Don to relay that to King on another frequency, then he’s back. “Hold. Wait for my mark.” Colby can hear the snap of Don’s gum.

“Affirmative.” Colby watches shadows move behind the painted out glass then the light goes out again and SWAT enters, noisy and rushed. Colby’s blood moves fast and his breathing moves slow.

“Go, go, go!”

#

Three of the counterfeiters are killed by the team who stole them, but both undercover agents make it out and everyone else who’s alive is arrested. The variety of charges is going to be impressive, Colby thinks as he watches the loading process. Some are going into ambulances, most are going into cop cars, and a few are getting loaded into unmarked black SUVs. He and Megan meet David at one of the FBI vehicles and start stripping off their vests, no one saying much of anything.

Colby’s blood is starting to cool, but that’s the only part of him. He’s damp under his vest, his dress shirt sticking to him along with his undershirt. “I need a shower.”

“You do,” Megan agrees. “The good news is that it’s late enough in the day that we can file our reports and get out of the office at a reasonable hour. I hear Alan’s got a brisket going and a roast chicken.”

Colby’s stomach rumbles. He missed lunch, and even with the stress of Alan and Ian meeting up over dinner Colby’s looking forward to eating.

David pauses as he’s re-holstering his gun. “Yeah? How’d you hear that?”

Megan smiles at him. “The Eppes food tree alert system. Larry told me that Alan called Charlie to insist that he put in an appearance and to bring Colby because Alan hasn’t seen him since he was taken hostage by the big bad Agent Edgerton. Alan needs to reassure himself, but he’s wrapping it in a team dinner. Ian’s also been told to be there, and I bet you’ve got a message waiting.”

David pulls out his phone and Colby grins as Liz wanders up with her own phone in hand and says, “We’re all eating well tonight, huh? Nikki’s taking bets on if Ian’ll show his face.”

#

Colby knows that Ian will show up, of course, but he’s not there by the time Alan has them setting up folding tables and chairs in the backyard. He enlists Colby and David to bring the tables up from the basement and sends Charlie and Don all over the house and garage to find enough chairs. When Robin arrives, followed by Amita and Larry, more chairs are pulled from the rafters of the garage. “This is crazy,” Don says to Colby as he surveys the lawn. “The team only has one more person than normal, and it’s not unusual for Larry and Amita to join us. Why does it look like so many people this time?”

Colby looks around, takes in the way most of the team is sprawling, loose limbed and relaxed, spreading out. “I’m not sure, but if Cemil is going to start coming over with Amita whenever he’s in town, and if either Liz or Nikki start dating someone seriously, we’re going to have to invest in more chairs.”

“Hey, not my problem. I don’t live here.” Don slaps him on the back and grins at him. “Unlike you.”

Colby looks around for Charlie. He might need backup. “When did you figure it out?”

“When Dad was annoyed that you and Charlie didn’t come home so he could look at your faces. I’m not sure if he knows you’ve moved in, though.”

“There’s a betting pool about that. Talk to Larry, I think, if you want in.”

Don’s grin grows and he wanders off, whistling—quietly and off-key.

#

Colby sees Ian walk around the corner of the house to the back, coming slowly and cautiously. He wants to grab Charlie and march them both right over to meet him, but he stays where he is, giving Ian a nod and what he hopes is a friendly smile, not a flirty one. “They finally took you off the rack for the day?”

David and Nikki stop their argument about basketball and look over quickly. “Hey, man,” David says, voice bright. “How bad was it?”

Ian grimaces a little as he scans the yard to take everyone in. “I’ve had better days, but I think it’ll shake out all right.”

“Yeah?” Colby thinks Ian looks less than positive about that.

Don comes out of the house with a couple of beer bottles in his hand and his father by his side. “It’s about time you showed up,” he says as he hands one to Ian. “Nice shiner.” He shoots a hard look at Colby, and since Charlie isn’t there to take the credit Colby just smiles blandly at him. Don makes a face and gestures to Ian. “Come on, might as well get this stuff over with before we eat.” He doesn’t exactly drag Ian to the table, but it’s a near thing, and everyone else takes that as a cue. It only takes a couple of minutes to get everyone sitting down around the tables, Ian more or less in the center of them all and definitely the focus of everyone’s attention. Alan sits at the far end of the table, but Colby sees Larry engineering that so he doesn’t know how to assign Alan’s intentions.

#

Ian nods hello to Megan, Liz, and the academics, then looks at Colby, sitting between Charlie and David. “The marshals are beside themselves and scrambling like crazy to cover their asses. The easiest way they can do that is to deflect attention, all of it, onto me for as long as they can. You know how it goes.” He looks at Don. “You’ll be getting a call tomorrow morning, and you too, David. They want to talk to Colby separately. They wanted to do all the interviews today but you guys were out of the office, and I think they would have called you back in if you weren’t working at the request of the State Department.”

Don frowns slightly. “You know a lot about it.”

Ian lifts a shoulder. “They forgot I was part of the conference call with Virginia. I just kept my mouth shut.”

Everyone rolls their eyes.

“Sounds about right,” Nikki says. “How are they leaning?”

“I’ll get a reprimand in my file and probably some time in the corner to think about what I’ve done. The marshals won’t be able to avoid some hard conversations for much longer before they need to face up to the mess in their house. Galvin will be charged with a pile of offenses, Thompson might be transferred to a desk. Hell, he might ask for it.” Ian drinks from his beer and gestures around the table. “I might be teaching a lot more for the next few months, unless there’s a long hunt in a rural area they can stick me on.”

Liz lifts an eyebrow. “They want to leash you?”

“Oh, yeah.” Ian nods and his expression grows bleak. “Working on my own is usually a bonus to everyone above me—fugitive recovery lets me pick my hunts because I’m their best tracker and I don’t need hand holding. But this was messy enough that my supervisor is catching hell, and I’m pretty sure a couple of levels above him are getting singed, too. It was all over the news, and you all know how they love bad publicity.”

“Oh, we know,” Charlie says dryly, and Alan rolls his eyes. “But they get distracted easily—mostly by results.”

#

Ian nods at him. “I get that, at least. But they’re not exactly thrilled with me right now.”

David leans forward a little, his eyes intent on Ian. “How do you think we should handle the discussions tomorrow? They’re not formal are they?”

“Not precisely, but don’t say anything you wouldn’t say in a hearing. Just tell the truth as you saw it play out.” Ian looks at Colby. “You, too.”

Colby nods, fully aware that his replies and comments will have some unavoidable gaps.

Don’s just started to say something when a timer in the kitchen starts beeping, loud enough to make at least two people twitch.

“And that ends this topic until we’re all fed,” Alan says as he stands up. “Let’s get the food on the table, shall we?”

Colby’s stomach agrees with Alan, but his brain really wants to strategize their interviews. His arms want to be full of Charlie and Ian. He gets up with Charlie and Don to help ferry food and knows he just has to be patient.

Chapter Text

The meal itself is easy—good food, excellent weather, people who are all comfortable with each other. The conversation about the prison is mostly shelved, but everyone makes a point of chatting with Ian, passing his attention around like a football. Colby thinks each of them wants to make it clear to Ian that they still trust him, that he’s still welcome. Alan isn’t precisely an outlier, but he and Ian seem to have an unspoken agreement not to touch directly on anything that’s more serious than the weather. Colby sees Don eyeing them both and assumes that one of them, either him or Don, will wind up as a referee even if Alan would prefer they didn’t. He doubts Alan will follow in Charlie’s footsteps and lash out physically, but Alan’s deadliest weapon is his tongue.

After the table is cleared, Don and Ian drift away toward the koi pond. Colby’s about to go join Charlie, Amita, and Larry in the garage when Megan loops her arm through his and eases him in exactly the opposite direction, over to where Liz and Robin are pouring wine. Colby suddenly wishes he was with Nikki and David, doing dishes in the kitchen.

“Sit,” Megan says, her voice an invitation, her hands pushy and determined. “How’s your beer?”

Colby holds it up. “Cold and more than half full. Why?”

Robin smirks at him. “I hear you don’t hate malbec.”

“I’m good with my beer, thanks.” He eyes her, and when Liz sits down next to him he narrows his eyes at her, too. “What did I do? Why am I in trouble?”

“You’re not in trouble.” Megan sits down on his other side and Robin stays where she is, closing the four of them into a cluster around wine bottles and a cheese plate. “We just want to talk to you a little. Get some facts straight.”

“Ah. You want some bets settled.”

They all beam at him.

#

“I’m reserving my right not to incriminate myself,” he warns, for all the good it’ll do him. They’re all very sneaky, but he’s not currently an idiot.

Liz waves a hand. “Standard. So, did Ian get that bruise from you?”

Charlie, yet again, isn’t there to take the credit properly. “Ask him.”

Megan starts to grin. “That’s not a yes. My money is still on my math geek. They’re very passionate when properly moved.”

“Hey, he’s my math geek.” Colby shakes his head at all of them. “You’re going to have to ask Ian.”

Liz and Robin exchange a long look and Robin grumbles out, “So annoying.”

Megan gestures to Robin. “He’s not going to give on this one. Let’s move along.”

Robin nods. “Okay. The next two bets are related—when did you move in with Charlie and when did Don find out?”

Colby rolls his eyes and groans. Alan might be the only one not in the know, and since he actually shares a house with them, Colby’s starting to feel a distinct level of guilt. “I still have my apartment and I’m keeping it. It’s in a good location and it doesn’t have a father living there.”

“Love nest.” Liz nods seriously. “Got it. Good idea—I’m sure Alan will appreciate that. When did you move in with Charlie and when did Don find out?”

“Christ.” Colby sighs, rubs his face with one hand, and drinks more of his beer. “Don figured it out last night, apparently. Alan still hasn’t—so don’t tell him, Larry’s got money on him figuring it out on his own—and I don’t have an exact date to tell you. I just stopped taking my stuff back to the apartment, is all, and started bringing more things here. About three weeks? Maybe a little longer?”

Megan leans forward. “As long as five weeks? It matters.” She’s far too eager to not have big money on the line.

“To whom?”

“Listen to you. Whom. It’s like you hang out at a college. Just answer the question, Granger.”

Colby pulls out his phone and starts scrolling through his text messages with Charlie. It takes a long time, and he has to open his calendar to count days and weeks. “Okay, the last text about where we were going to sleep that night was six weeks ago, but the last time I texted him a goodnight from there—meaning he was here and I lived there—was four weeks, five days ago. After that, I’ll concede to living here, even if I’m off by a day or two. Is that enough for an official call?”

Liz and Megan both look at Robin. “You’re the lawyer. Official enough?”

“I should probably confirm with Charlie, but I’m inclined to call it. If it’s contentious or a really close call, we’ll consult the other party.”

Megan nods and Liz pulls a piece of paper from her pocket. “Pen?”

Colby tries to stand up, thinking he’s done, but three hands reach out to pull him back down. “Stay,” Liz orders. “Nikki!” she yells toward the house. “Get a pen!”

#

Yelling for Nikki is apparently a signal of sorts and it takes approximately two minutes for a pen to be found and results to be determined. The academics arrive from the garage, the team gathers around—minus Ian and Alan, which is a cause for concern. Colby looks around for them, trying not to let his worry show, and spies them standing near the koi pond. Alan must have gone to join Ian and Don when Colby was being trapped by the wine brigade. He watches for a moment, slightly reassured by their relaxed body language, and listens to the others with one ear as they try to sort out the betting results. He appreciates, in a vague kind of way, that they’re discussing where Colby’s living without being loud enough for Alan to clue into his new status as a housemate to a fed. It’s a circus. Megan and Liz are also watching Ian and Alan, but Colby’s pretty sure they just want Ian to come over so they can hear about Ian’s bruise.

“Come with me a moment,” David murmurs into his ear. “Bring Charlie.”

Colby gets up and follows, snagging Charlie by the wrist as he passes by. He thinks they’re going into the garage but David walks along the back of it instead, keeping them outside and within sight of the pond. They’re far enough away that they can have a conversation, but not so far that they’ll draw attention. “They’re going to be pissed,” Colby says mildly. “Liz told me to stay—there’s more bets to settle, I think.”

David huffs out a sound of exasperation. “They can do that in a few minutes. Tell me if you’re okay.”

Colby blinks at him and then at Charlie. “I’m fine? What do you mean?”

David almost growls. “You were in therapy for over two hours, Colby.”

Charlie’s eyes widen. “Wow. Are you okay?”

The only reason Colby doesn’t roll his eyes at them is because they both look genuinely worried. “I’m fine. Nick wanted a lot of details and it took a long time just to give him a blow-by-blow description of it all. Then we discussed reactions and expectations, and that took a while, and then finally he took some time to put me back into work mode. He wants me back next week, but I’m good. I didn’t have any nightmares did I, Charlie?”

Charlie shakes his head. “No. No nightmares. We didn’t wake up from yelling or thrashing, anyway.”

David gives them both long, calculating looks, studying Charlie’s face until Charlie starts to blush. “I knew it,” David says with a low hiss. He smirks at Charlie. “Maybe you can tell me what’s going on?”

Charlie shakes his head, his eyes wide. “Nope, not my job. I’m out. Bye!”

#

Colby watches Charlie all but flee back to the others. “You’d never peg him for being great at secrets, would you?”

“He’s losing his touch. Plus, I know he’d tell Amita if she asked, even if he does go all red in the face.” David transfers his stare to Colby. “So? Why’s Charlie blushing?”

“Hm.” Colby looks David in the eye. There’s always space for the shape of David and truth, but sometimes it needs to be outlined. “I won’t ever lie to you. Ask me a question, I’ll tell you the truth. But there’s more than just me involved here, so tread lightly for all our sakes.”

David closes his eyes, more a long blink than anything else, a slight pause in his forward momentum. “That’s fair.” He looks around the yard, toward where Ian and Alan are now approaching the rest of the party, still looking calm and easy. “I guess I want to know if this thing you three are heading toward is just you and Ian, or if it’s Charlie as well. Because you need to be really sure where your head and heart are at, not just your dick. And after yesterday—”

“We know,” Colby says before David can start a proper lecture. “It’s not just me, and we’re sure. Charlie and I talked it all out a while ago, in depth. But it’s… We need some space, David. Ian’s asked to keep it private for a few months, just us. I told him you know something’s going on, and he said Weston does, too. But we’d all appreciate it if you can keep it locked down until I let you know it’s okay.”

David takes a deep breath but he nods. “I get it. All right. I won’t talk about it, and I’ll let you know if you’re being obvious. But, hey. If you need to talk about it, just give me a high sign.”

Colby knows that, has always known it. He smiles at David and drinks the last of his beer. “Even the sex stuff?”

“Hell, no.” David smacks him on the arm and walks away. “You do that, I’ll tell your momma.”

Colby feels a chill creep down his spine at the threat. “Shut up, David. Just shut up.”

#

Robin stands up from her chair and uses her best courtroom voice to call everyone to attention. “Okay, people. It’s time to get to the heart of things and redistribute some money. Ian. We have a very serious question for you.”

Ian freezes. He goes so still so suddenly that Colby winces for him and for his reflexes. What kind of training does it take to even do that? “Me?”

Robin grins at him. “Liz and Megan did the actual fast talking and book making while we were eating Alan’s fine dinner, but you know how it goes. We need it settled.” She delicately touches her own cheek, just by her nose and under the cheekbone. “Who dinged your paint?”

Ian’s body relaxes and his smile shows all his teeth. “I want to know where the smart money is first.”

Nikki crows. “I know!” She grabs the sheet of paper from Liz but doesn’t even look at it. “Don, David, Liz, and Robin all say Colby—he didn’t get his chance before the marshals breached the door and he had too long to think it all over later. Me and Megan think Charlie, ‘cause the professor can get pretty upset and Idaho there has better aim. The academic money is all on Charlie—that’s Larry, Amita.” She pauses. “And Alan.”

Colby, Charlie, Don, and Ian all turn their heads to look at Alan.

Alan shrugs one shoulder and looks unapologetic. “I know my boys. All of them.”

Ian shakes his head ruefully. “The agents and their lawyer all need to pay up. I don’t know what odds you’re using, but they should be adjusted because I didn’t even see it coming. He’s got a fair amount of force, and, to be fair, he was really, really mad at me.”

Charlie’s blushing again. “I’m really sorry.”

Don scowls at him. “Charlie, what did I tell you about hitting people? Never on the face—bones and teeth hurt.” Then he adds, grudgingly, “I just lost, like, twenty bucks. Good shot.”

#

Alan waits for his moment.

Colby’s passing through the kitchen, going from the backyard to the bathroom, when Alan turns from putting dishes away to face Colby and asks, “Colby, did he have to do that to you? To you specifically, and to Don? And Charlie, I suppose. I’m not at all surprised he punched Ian. I might have myself, if he’d come by last night.”

Colby weighs the urgency of his trip up the stairs and stops walking. “We know. That’s one of the reasons we talked at my place instead of here. It’s complicated.” He leans back against the counter and makes sure Alan’s looking at him. “Ian did need to be inside the prison to figure it all out. Time mattered, and letting himself stay arrested was the fastest way he could think of, in the moment. He didn’t need to keep me attached to a post, though, and we’re dealing with that, him and me. He really didn’t need to scare Charlie, and they’re talking that through, punching aside. I get why you’re asking, and I appreciate that you’re bothered by what he did, Alan.”

Alan flashes him a half smile and exhales. “But?”

“But.” Colby gives him the half smile right back. These talks are becoming a thing, and while Colby’s not delighted that they have them, he’s pleased that Alan’s seeking it out this time, checking his reactions against Colby’s reality. “The fact that we—the team, Don, Charlie—are all keeping in front of us is that Ian is trustworthy.” Colby tries to look earnest and reliable. “He’s still Ian, still our friend, and he’s an excellent agent. He’ll probably be on his very best behavior for a while, too, so if you need some manual labor done in the next week or so, now’s the time to put him to work. He knows you’re the papa bear of practically the whole team and he’s not an idiot, even if he is sometimes dumb.”

Alan snorts a laugh, rolls his eyes, and lets Colby continue on his way.

#

“It’s so weird,” Charlie whispers to him later. They’re in the garage, and the usual games are happening all around them. Charlie’s leaning on him and Colby’s got an arm looped around Charlie’s shoulders, keeping him close. “I keep wondering if I’m paying too much attention to him or not enough. Acting natural isn’t easy.”

Colby nods. “I know.” He presses a kiss to Charlie’s temple. “Lucky for us, it’s natural if we sneak out early. Especially if we spend half an hour or so like this.”

“Like this?” Charlie smiles at him as he turns under Colby’s arm and slides his own arms up and around Colby’s neck. They’re into their third kiss and just adding a little tongue before someone yells at them to cut it out. Charlie laughs into Colby’s neck and turns away again, but doesn’t leave his side, or escape from his arm.

“Just like that,” Colby agrees, voice low. He looks across the room to where Ian’s pretending not to watch them, his eyes dark. “Give it a couple of minutes, make sure he’s watching, and do that again.”

Charlie shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Are you being mean?”

“Nah.” Colby takes a bottle of water from Liz as she passes by them. “Just setting things up for later. Maybe we can still use the backup plan.”

“Mean.” Charlie shakes his head, but Colby feels the way Charlie’s body squirms, just a little.

#

Charlie doesn’t let Colby push Ian too far; Colby suspects it’s because there’s so many people around, and Amita won’t hesitate to call him out on being weird or inappropriate—loudly. They do stick very close together, and they touch each other often, even when they’re playing two on two pool against each other. Charlie’s playing with Megan and Colby’s teamed with Nikki, so it’s an even match in terms of skill and trash-talking. Charlie’s learned some really cerebral ways of insulting people and Nikki’s full of admiration.

“I’m going to have to remember that one,” she says, leaning to take her shot. “But I have no idea when I’d ever be able to use it outside of this garage, with these people.”

Megan laughs. “We’ve all become rather insular, haven’t we? The DEA guys are starting to look at us funny, and that’s not part of the natural order.”

Nikki makes a rude sound about the DEA and sinks her ball, then moves to the next. Colby leans into Charlie’s side and discreetly feels up Charlie’s ass. Megan rolls her eyes at him, so maybe he’s not as discreet as he should be. “You two are clingy tonight.”

Charlie grins. “I’m hoping he got a hit of adrenaline this afternoon, with the counterfeit rescue thing.”

“Nah, he didn’t even get a single shot off,” Nikki says as she lines up on the cue ball.

Colby bites his tongue because Nikki is on his team and there are some standards, but Charlie takes the opening and says, “Not yet, but the night is young,” and laughs when Nikki misses the cue ball entirely as she turns to glare at him.

“That didn’t count!” she protests when Megan steps forward.

“Yeah,” Colby says with a shrug. “It did. Sorry.”

#

Don walks in on them making out in the kitchen, Colby pressed into the counter by the fridge with Charlie’s hand where it shouldn’t be in a kitchen setting, and kicks them out. 

Colby’s pretty sure Charlie planned it that way.

Ian catches his eye as Colby’s putting on his jacket, makes sure Colby hears him challenge Don to a game of air hockey before he has to head out for the night.

Charlie talks dirty all the way back to the apartment.

#

“We’ve got at least half an hour before Ian gets here, probably more.” Colby lets them in and puts his guns away in the lockbox instead of in his drawer. He moves the box to the kitchen counter, right above where his guns used to live, just to keep a little bit of normal in his life. Maybe after Ian moves his things into the apartment there’ll be enough room in his gun safe for Colby’s weapons. He’s going to have to get online and find a gun safe for the house, at least. Colby’s pondering how many guns a safe at the house will have to hold between him, Don, and anyone else who comes over regularly, when Charlie attaches himself to Colby’s waist from behind and starts working Colby’s belt off.

“That gives us half an hour to make sure he finds us very ready for him,” Charlie says to Colby’s shoulder blades. He’s given up on the belt now that it’s undone and dropped his hands lower to press at Colby’s cock over his pants.

Colby looks down at himself and watches Charlie feel him up. “I don’t think being ready is going to be a problem, but if you keep this going I might be too fast off the mark.”

Charlie laughs and lets him go, stepping back far enough to let Colby turn around. “All right, then. Come on, let’s get everything done so we can just go to bed for the night when we’re finished whatever it is we’re going to do.”

“Like what?” Colby looks around the clean kitchen. “There’s nothing really to do, is there? I mean, I can set alarms for the morning, but that’s about it.” He follows Charlie out to the living room. “Speaking of, I’m going running before work. Do you want me to wake you when I get up so you can mess around with Ian, or do you want me to let you sleep again? He’s probably not going to fight to wake you up until he’s either more comfortable or absolutely desperate to have you.”

Charlie sprawls on the couch. “You don’t think he’s desperate for me yet? I can up my game.”

“You’ll kill me if you up your game.”

#

It’s closer to an hour before they hear Ian’s keys in the lock and Colby thinks it’s a damn good thing he isn’t much later. He’s managed to keep both Charlie and himself dressed, aside from shoes, belts, and socks, but it’s a near thing. They’re ignoring yet another movie in favor of making out on the couch, and Charlie doesn’t stop kissing him, even when they hear a curious thudding sound of something heavy hitting the floor in the hall. Colby registers it as a go bag. Probably for the best—if Ian keeps showing up at the office in the same clothes they’re going to get found out pretty fast. They hear Ian hang up his coat, take off his shoes, and go into the kitchen.

“What are you watching?” he calls. The thunk of the gun safe opening punctuates the question.

“No idea,” Colby calls back.

“It’s just background noise. Hurry up, please,” Charlie adds. He’s mostly in Colby’s lap, wiggling. He takes Colby’s mouth again.

Ian comes into the room and stands by the coffee table, looking at them. “Have you been like this since you got told to get a room?” he sounds mostly amused but Colby catches the thread of want in his voice.

Charlie lifts his head. “Colby made me wait for you,” he says as he pushes Colby deeper into the couch and shifts to straddle his hips. He holds out a hand toward Ian, apparently reaching for his shirt. “Come here. Kiss me.”

Ian comes close and kisses him, and Colby can hear Ian trying to talk against Charlie’s mouth. The only words he can actually make out are demanding and hot, which are both perfectly accurate. Colby stays where he is, sprawled on the couch with Charlie on top of him, and enjoys the view.

Charlie loves kissing and Ian seems more than happy to appreciate it. He’s standing right next to them and he’s got his hands buried in Charlie’s hair, his body leaning over Colby to get to Charlie’s mouth. Colby watches, his hands on Charlie’s thighs, and kind of regrets that he made them wait for Ian to arrive before taking off more clothes.

#

By the time Charlie lets Ian come up for air, Colby’s hands have drifted to Charlie’s hips and they’re both enjoying a nice, slow grind. Ian’s getting hard in his jeans, right there in front of him where he can see, so Colby moves one hand and drags it up the outside of Ian’s thigh to his hipbone. “What do you want, Ian?” His voice is rough like sand. He can’t really believe that this is his life, but he’s not willing to entertain the thought that this is a dream.

Ian and Charlie are both short of breath as they pull apart and Ian keeps one hand in Charlie’s hair. “I want you to keep going.”

“That’s a given,” Charlie tells him. He stops rubbing his cock on Colby, which makes them both moan a regretful sound. “But how do you want to do this? Precisely.”

Colby digs one finger under the tongue of Ian’s belt and starts working it free. “Charlie likes details. He has a rich fantasy life and can tell a great story. Trust me. What do you think about, Ian? What’s in your head when you’re alone?”

Ian looks down at him and blinks slowly before he apparently notices that Colby’s trying to get into his pants. “Who does what with you two? How does it usually go?”

Colby shakes his head because it doesn’t matter how it usually goes, but Charlie’s trained to answer questions, can’t resist the lure of one just hanging out there like bait on a hook. “Colby’s absolute favorite thing is blow jobs,” he offers. “If you can get his mouth on you, do it. I’m more about hands and frottage. Oh, and Colby doesn’t really get overstimulated after he comes, he likes to keep going.”

Ian’s eyes go wide and his body stills. “Right, okay. That was…Yes.”

Colby’s dick throbs just watching him. “What do you want, Ian?”

#

Ian’s inhale is shaky and too loud for the room. “I want to fuck you. I want you on top of Charlie, and I want to fuck you and watch him.”

Charlie rocks onto Colby’s dick almost viciously, like it’s an instinct he can’t—or won’t—control. “Bedroom?” he asks breathlessly.

Colby looks to Ian for an answer and Ian shakes his head. “No. No, professor, right here. Actually, hang on. Do whatever you want for the next minute or so, I’ll be right back. Just try not to come, please.”

The shudder that rolls through Charlie’s body sends a shockwave through Colby. “Okay, don’t come,” Charlie whispers, apparently to himself. “I can do that.” He looks down at Colby as Ian walks away. “Colby?”

“Charlie.”

“I kind of really want to come right now. Like, a lot.”

Colby grins at him. “Ian told you not to. Where did he go?”

Charlie looks up. “Kitchen, I think. What’s in the kitchen?”

“Stuff I bought when they let me leave for lunch,” Ian says as he comes back with a black and silver paper bag. “Did you know that the federal building is only a twenty minute drive from one of the best sex shops in LA?”

Colby tries to laugh, but his voice is too rough, his breathing too uneven. “Is that the fancy lube?”

“Fancy lube.” Ian’s smile turns predatory. “You’ll like this stuff. Plus, I got the extra fancy lube for the shower, and I grabbed some condoms. I figure it’s a bitch to get spunk off this couch.”

#

“Leather is surprisingly forgiving,” Charlie says, because it’s proven information he has on hand. “You just need to be really fast cleaning up, we’ve found.”

“I don’t want to be fast.” Ian puts two bottles on the floor next to the couch and tears into the box of condoms. “Get undressed, both of you.”

Charlie scrambles off of Colby’s lap and goes to close the blinds. Colby’s never had reason to believe anyone’s been watching or even caught an accidental glance of them, but he’s not about to stop Charlie from making sure. Charlie starts shedding his clothes right there by the window and Colby watches him as he starts working on his own shirt buttons. Ian separates a couple of condoms from the strip and drops them next to the lube, then peels off his shirt and says, “Anything I need to know?”

“How long are you going to keep asking that?” Colby stands up and undoes his jeans.

“A while.” Ian watches avidly as Colby undresses. “What did Charlie mean about keeping going?”

Charlie’s suddenly there, his hands on Ian’s jeans, getting him naked. “I mean that after you get him off, keep going. Don’t stop. He likes it.”

Colby nods and tosses his clothes out of the way, comfortable with being dressed by air and the hot look in Ian’s eyes. Colby’s never been body-shy, and Ian’s appreciation is almost as flattering as Charlie’s. “I do. I’ll let you know if something doesn’t feel right.” He crowds Charlie even closer to Ian, feels him up as blatantly as he can without actually stroking Charlie’s cock. “C’mon, Ian. I’m tired of waiting.”

#

Ian gives directions as well as he takes them. Within moments, Charlie’s on the couch in Colby’s usual position—sprawled in the corner, propped up on the cushions—and Colby’s on his knees on the floor between Charlie’s legs. Ian’s dealing with the safety seals on the lube, pressed up against Colby’s back. “Go on, pretty. Show off that mouth of yours. Charlie’s been singing your praises.”

Colby doesn’t need any more encouragement than that. Ian’s voice slides down Colby’s spine like it’s a caress all of its own, curling through him and making Colby’s dick lift higher. He checks in with Charlie by meeting his gaze and running his hands up the inside of Charlie’s thighs, and he wonders if he’s always had a kink for being watched. Maybe it’s just being watched by Ian that makes his cock ache—and then he wonders if he’s developing a kink for being told what to do. Being told what to do by Ian. Maybe his kink is just Ian and Charlie. By the time he’s got Charlie in his mouth, he no longer cares, he’s just going with it and enjoying the sensation of having the freedom to do this.

Charlie’s perfect—perfect on his tongue, under his hands, along his sides where Charlie’s legs are shifting as he thrusts gently into Colby’s mouth. Ian’s perfect—perfect behind him, curling close and breathing into Colby’s ear, into his neck, into Charlie’s hipbone. He moves, almost undulates against Colby’s back, his hands gentle as he touches Colby’s abs, his thighs, his chest.

#

Colby listens. He listens to Charlie talking, saying both their names and praising Colby’s mouth, and Colby listens to Charlie’s sounds, faster and deeper in pitch than they usually are. When Charlie’s hips twitch and he pushes his dick into Colby’s throat Colby backs off, drags his mouth up to the tip of Charlie’s cock and licks his way back down to the root. “Not yet, Charlie.”

Charlie makes a sound that’s agreeable, if a little grumpy. “It’s not my fault. You should see you. God. I can’t help it.”

Ian laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest and along Colby’s back. “He’s right, you’re gorgeous, especially when you’re going down on him. Up, now. Crawl up there and kiss his mouth for me.” Ian backs away to give him room and Colby hears the snap of the lube—the fancy lube—being opened.

Charlie’s looking up at Colby’s face as Colby climbs on top of him. Charlie’s grinning like he’s finally won a prize he’s always wanted. “All our favorites,” he says, then he gasps as Ian’s hands, wet and silky slick, curl around his cock and Colby’s, holding them both. “Oh, God.”

Colby turns his head and Ian is right there for him, his kiss intense and powerful, his tongue a weapon. He doesn’t stop kissing Colby even when Colby and Charlie both start thrusting, even when Colby swears into his mouth.

He does stop to grin at them and offer more lube.

Charlie nods his head quickly, before Colby can, Charlie’s curls starting to frizz against the couch. “Wet. Colby likes it wet, and if he grinds on me when you’re inside him—”

Colby has to stop moving, almost stops breathing so he doesn’t shoot right then and there.

#

Ian adds more lube as Charlie instructs, whispers about Colby liking it wet because he spent too much time in dry places, and Ian kisses Colby once more before he does a literal safety check. Colby would roll his eyes but he appreciates how unstable things can get with six knees in play, and Ian’s quick about making sure no one’s about to fall off the couch. When Ian kisses Charlie it’s hungry and sweet, and so beautiful to watch that Colby’s breath catches.

“Now,” Ian says, still leaning into Charlie. “I’m going to get Colby to lean forward and brace himself over you, all right?”

Charlie lifts an eyebrow. “Ian, if you don’t move this along I’ll fuck him myself.”

Colby starts to laugh, he can’t help it. “I feel very popular.”

Ian doesn’t say anything, just reaches for a rubber and the lube.

Colby’s laughter drains away and he rocks his hips into Charlie, unable to keep still.

#

When Ian starts to open him, Colby’s eyes fall shut. His fingers flex on the arm of the couch, his toes curl, and he can feel Charlie’s hands, petting his thighs. Mostly he can feel the press of Ian’s legs along his calves, Ian’s mouth on the back of his neck, and Ian’s fingers, pressing, stroking. Ian’s gentle but he’s efficient, and he drags his teeth along Colby’s shoulder blade as he manipulates Colby’s body. 

“One day I’m going to take an hour to do this,” he promises. “I’m going to play with you, and open you, and let you come on my fingers as many times as I can make you. But today, right now, I don’t think I have it in me to wait.”

Colby nods. He’s already rocking back into Ian’s hand, gliding on Charlie through the slippery gel. “Don’t be sweet about it, just get me ready.”

Ian speeds his thrusting. “You’re really fucking tight, pretty.”

“Uh-huh.” He wants to say more but Ian’s angle changes just enough and Colby’s knees turn to water. “Oh, God.”

Charlie groans. “Ian. Lots of lube.” His hands stop petting and land on Colby’s hips, keeping him still.

“You keep saying that.” Ian gets more lube and Colby just concentrates on keeping himself upright so he doesn’t squish Charlie.

#

Ian takes far more time than Colby thinks is necessary, but Charlie’s on Ian’s side. Every time Colby starts to protest and insist he’s ready, Charlie wiggles or kisses or pets, or even reaches between them to stroke Colby’s erection. By the time Ian’s finally convinced that Colby’s ready to take him and is rolling on the condom, Colby’s shaking with need. His arms are braced, but his legs are trembling, his ass feels like it’s so slick Ian’ll slip right out, and his cock is drooling all over Charlie’s abs.

Charlie’s loving it. His eyes are so dark there’s hardly any iris left around his pupils and by the way he’s breathing he’s probably about two hard thrusts away from coming. “Now, Ian,” Charlie pleads, and Colby’s glad Charlie can speak at all, since he can’t at the moment.

Ian doesn’t say anything, doesn’t hold Colby’s hip or give him any kind of signal. One moment he’s getting the rubber on, the next he’s sliding inside in one long, slow push, filling Colby and stretching him wide.

#

“Jesus.” Colby arches his back and tries to push back, tries to get even more of Ian inside of him. His eyes open wide and he stares at Charlie, who’s staring right back. “Ian. More.” If this is what too much prep lets him have, Colby’s not going to rush Ian, ever.

Ian grunts and his hands finally clamp down on Colby’s hips. “You want more?”

“I want everything.” Colby looks down at where he and Charlie are lined up.

“Let go, Ian,” Charlie says, voice low and slow, and it’s like a flag comes down.

#

Colby’s never been in the middle of two guys before.

The closest he’d ever been to a threesome prior to a day ago was trading handjobs behind a tent and they could hear a couple of other guys doing the same thing a few feet away. This is nothing like that. This isn’t even anything like being next to Ian and Charlie while they get off together and he’s in his own hazy afterglow.

This is an overload of sensation that he wants to ride as long as he can possibly make it last. Charlie under him, his erection next to Colby’s like a hot brand, the friction exactly right. Ian, both behind and over him, inside him, overwhelming every defense Colby didn’t even know he still had. Ian’s cock is hard and thick and hits all the right places, stretching him just enough to make the sharp edges of being fucked bright and shiny. His strokes are steady, quick, and he’s driving Colby into Charlie with every thrust, pushing sounds from Charlie that are creating a feedback loop in Colby’s brain.

Colby closes his eyes again and concentrates on Ian’s dick in his ass, Charlie’s cock on his own, the ache in his gut. He shifts his weight, just a little, enough to edge his outside knee a couple of inches, and all three of them sound off, one after another. Colby’s opened up just that little bit more, Ian’s just that little deeper, Charlie’s being pushed that little bit closer.

“Harder,” Colby whispers. “And keep going.”

Charlie lets out a long, low moan before Ian can even react. “He’s going to come, Ian. Fuck him through it, don’t stop.” Colby feels Charlie brace his own foot on the floor, stabilizing them all.

#

Ian’s fingers dig into Colby’s hips and he drives into Colby, over and over, as deep as he can get. He finds the right angle and nails Colby’s prostate, punching sounds from Colby’s chest. “Charlie. Can you touch?”

Charlie tries, but Colby’s pressed too tight to him. “Doesn’t matter. This is. Oh. Oh, God.”

Colby can hear it, can feel Charlie start to tense and crest. “Charlie.”

Charlie cries out something that might be a name, might be math, and Colby feels him climax between them, his cock throbbing and his come adding to the slick.

“That’s it.” Ian’s panting against Colby’s back, his forehead resting between Colby’s shoulders. “Now you, Colby. I want to feel you come on me. Sometime soon I’m gonna be on my back and Charlie’s gonna ride my cock, and you’re going to watch and—”

Colby comes so hard there’s dancing lights behind his eyelids, and Ian keeps going, keeps moving in and out of him, not slowing down, still talking.

“So tight,” Ian says. “God, you’re so hot. Tell me you’re mine, tell me you’re for real, tell me.”

Colby nods but can’t speak quite yet.

Charlie can, mostly. “Yours,” he promises. “We’re yours, sweetheart.”

A tremor rolls through Ian’s body, so strong that Colby notices it even while he’s high on brain chemicals and the way Ian’s still inside him, still thrusting.

“God,” Ian whispers. “Charlie.” He rocks into both of them, the head of his cock skating over Colby’s prostate, milking him.

Colby moans as his dick gives up a little more. “Yes. Yes, please.”

Charlie kisses Colby’s face and his hand reaches past Colby’s hip to Ian’s. “And you’re ours.”

Ian keens as he lets go, and Colby pulls himself together enough not to fall forward, enough to take Ian’s weight as he comes and comes and comes.

#

They realize almost as soon as they catch their breath that one out of three men with a condom on does not make the couch safe from messes.

#

They all need to shower. Colby and Charlie go first and Ian takes a few minutes to unpack his things while he waits for his chance. Colby’s happy to give him free rein over where to put his stuff; most of Colby’s personal items are already at the house, so he keeps a drawer for himself, one for Charlie, and lets Ian take over everything else, aside from a couple of hangers in the closet.

“You should bring your boxes and stuff over while you’re in town this week,” Charlie says, as he looks in the closet to see if he has any clean shirts there. “Just in case they really do send you to Quantico for months.”

Ian smiles at him. “I will. I don’t think it’ll be months, professor. They need me in the field too much. They’re already starting to panic about me wanting to retire someday—they’ll use me while they have me.”

Colby takes wet towels to the bathroom. Ian comes in behind him for his own shower, and Colby says, “You can put your books and stuff wherever you want, okay? If you want to keep your duffles packed so you can travel fast we can put up some shelves or something. Maybe some kind of fancy looking cupboard unit.”

Ian pauses, his hand on the shower curtain. “We’ll work it out, pretty. Hey, maybe you can show me your running route this week. Not tomorrow, though.”

Colby looks at him. “Sure. What are you doing tomorrow?”

Ian winks at him. “Charlie.”

#

It takes them longer to settle down in the bed this time. Colby’s still feeling little shocks that are part physical and part emotional, and Charlie apparently wants to hold onto both of them at once. After a fair amount of shifting and pillow fluffing they wind up in a tangled puddle of arms and legs.

“You can’t actually sleep like this can you?” Ian asks.

“No,” Charlie says. Then he yawns. “Maybe. But it’ll get too hot and someone’s arm will fall asleep. Don’t need to stay like this, but…”

“But.” Colby nods and runs his fingers over Ian’s arm. “For right now, it’s good.”

The lights are out and Colby’s listening to Charlie breathe when he hears Ian whisper, “It’s so good.”

Chapter Text

Ian looks at his ringing phone like it’s a snake—one of the venomous ones, not one of the ones he likes. He’s sitting in a small conference room on the eleventh floor of the federal building, cooling his heels like a good little agent, and the number flashing at him is one of Weston’s. It’s not the number Ian tried when he was walking the streets near Colby’s apartment. (Their apartment. The apartment. The one that makes his mind stutter just a tiny bit.) This is a different number, one of the open lines Mike uses when he’s not worried about being overheard.

The phone stops ringing and Ian breathes a little easier. He’s not sure how long he’ll be sitting around waiting for someone to fetch him into a meeting, but he doesn’t love the idea of talking to Mike on an unsecured line while he’s in the FBI offices. Everything would have been great if Mike had just picked up when Ian called him two nights ago. But no, he’d been out of touch and Ian had hung up when the call ended in dead air, not even connecting to a voicemail account.

His phone rings again, the same number, and Ian sighs as he picks it up and accepts the call. “Hey, you. I tried to call the oth—”

“Shut the hell up and do not say a single word to me until I’m done. Do you understand?”

Ian blinks. Despite the language he’s using, Mike doesn’t sound angry at all which means he’s absolutely furious. Oh, fuck. Ian knows it’s smart for him to keep his mouth shut as Mike told him to, but if they’re going to do this Mike needs to know some facts. “I’m in the federal building,” he blurts because safety is paramount.

“You think I don’t know that? I know exactly where you are and how long I have before someone comes to get you for your dressing down. Shut up. Let me tell you what I know, Edge.” Mike pauses to take a deep breath and Ian winces. Some people call him Edge with a certain level of respect, even a weird sort of affection. Not Mike. He uses it as a weapon to avoid using Ian’s name.

#

Ian sits back in his chair and almost instantly changes his mind. He gets up, his phone pressed tight against his ear, and walks to one of the damn glass walls to look out at other transparent rooms.

Mike’s talking, his tone still far too friendly as he tells Ian a story. “I figured, you know, I’ll get some nice extended downtime since I’m still healing up from the accident, right? I mean, I can’t even really walk yet, not without a cane or crutches, and with my knee I’m looking at months of therapy. But guess what? There’s a job that’s perfect for me. Some dirtbag organization I can’t tell you about is using a private hospital and its associated retreat and treatment resort as a cover for some bad shit. I didn’t even know that if you pay enough money you can do your stupid physio in a tropical resort, but it turns out you can. So off I go, and I do my job, and damn if the treatments aren’t actually helpful as a bonus.”

“Did you get a tan?” Ian asks, aiming for cordial. Sometimes Mike loses his pointy bits when he’s talking.

“Shut. Up.”

Not this time, apparently. “Sorry.” He is, kind of. Mostly he wants this to be over so Mike can stop being mad and they can talk about things like adults instead of pissed off hot-heads.

There’s a long silence. “As I was saying. I was out of the country, working and healing, and two days ago my attendant—everyone got one, and someday I’ll tell you how I worked around her long enough to do what I needed to do—she’s wheeling me through the lobby and past the three big televisions that had constant news from around the world streaming in. Tell me what was on freaking CNN out of LA, Edge. Tell me. You can talk now.”

Ian sighs. “CNN? Really?”

“Oh, you are much more than just a local interest story, my friend. You’re a fucking federal agent, and that’s big news. There you were, looking absolutely awful in a mugshot and somehow involved in a manhunt inside a prison. Then I was past the TV and couldn’t go back, couldn’t risk an internet search.”

“You know there’s no way I could’ve reached you. You know the job. It’s not like you would’ve been able to help, even.” They actually had a rule not to talk about the jobs they did unless it was hilarious or unavoidable.

“That’s not why I’m pissed, Ian.”

Ian’s relieved at the use of his actual name, and Mike’s words are sharp and his tone is cutting, which should be a good sign. Ian’s not sure, though, so he speaks cautiously. “Okay. Why are you angry? I did try to call you the night before last.” Granted, it wasn’t about being arrested for murder or escaping custody, not really. Still, he did try to call.

“I know.” There’s a pause and Ian hears movement on Mike’s end of the line, dishes clinking and the glug of liquid, maybe coffee into a mug, maybe water into a glass. “As soon as I was on my way back to the States I started making some calls. I probably rushed the end of my gig, the operation could’ve been cleaner at the end, but you… Damn it, Ian. I did not shove you out of the way of that car so you could take your freaking boyfriend hostage!”

#

Ian’s eyes go wide and his heart might actually skip a beat. “My… Okay, wow. What kind of phone calls did you make?” That’s still privileged information as far as Ian knows. At least, it better be. Shit, it’s only been two nights, not even forty-eight hours.

Mike makes a sound that’s an exact marriage of frustration and derision. “Please give me some credit, I’m not blind. And I called Lillian.”

“Oh, dear.” He doesn’t mean to say it, it just kind of slips out. Ian’s never even met Lillian, she’s one of Weston’s people, but she’s got ears everywhere. “She’s CIA, isn’t she? Not Bureau.” Ian has no idea, but he can’t resist the chance to dig for the information. Mike might be just off his game enough to let something slip.

“Lillian is Lillian.” His voice is like ice and Ian still can’t tell if that’s good or bad. “She told me that you were out of the prison and not in custody anywhere. She told me that you trapped a dirty cop—well, marshal—and tied up a big case. She also told me that you’re waiting to find out how much trouble you’re in, which is exactly how it should be, right?”

Ian stops staring out the glass wall and goes back to the table to sit down. “Right.”

“There was one more little detail she found out.”

Ian closes his eyes and makes a grunting sound, just to let Mike know he’s still there.

“Lillian told me that no one’s worried about your career, you’re teflon. But she, personally, just Lillian, is keeping an eye out to see if SSA Eppes doesn’t damage your person. To which I asked, very calmly, why would he do that, Lillian? Do you know what she told me, Ian?”

Ian takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “It’s not like it sound—”

“Shut. It.”

Ian shuts it.

#

“So there I was, five hours ago, on a plane just barely in American airspace, and Lillian tells me that in the course of closing this case of yours you made the choice to hurry Eppes’ team along by keeping one their own with you. You also, and this is my favorite part, got Dr. Eppes on the computer and coerced his help. Did you know that the FBI routinely records whatever happens on their computers? I’m pretty sure that if I pushed Lillian for it I’d be able to see what that conversation was like.”

Ian’s stomach lurches and air is pushed out of his lungs like he’s been punched. It dawns on Ian that he might have accidentally pushed his relationship with Michael Weston back to the brink of destruction. There’s no way that Mike could look at the way Ian treated Colby and Charlie and not know just how bad it got. Now there’s no way to keep any of the more repulsive details to himself. Broad strokes won’t work, and Mike’s been here before. A return trip to this side of Ian might be an ending, despite all the work they’ve done.

Mike keeps talking. “Now, I know that you have a much closer relationship with Granger than I ever did, but I’m a thousand percent sure that you could’ve just asked him out for a drink. And I know you well enough to know that even if you did have your head on straight about him and his boy before you got all buggy—and you didn’t, don’t tell me you did—it would’ve taken grace to get out of there with anything remotely like a chance with him. Do you have grace, Ian?”

Ian kind of wants to throw up. He also wants to laugh, and that would be an even worse idea. “I have something better,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“What’s that?”

“Luck.”

Mike snorts out a laugh and Ian knows it’s followed up with a look of annoyance. Mike didn’t mean to find Ian funny. “I always knew that. What does your luck look like this time?”

Ian puts his free hand flat on the table and takes a breath in, nice and slow through his nose. His stomach unclenches a little. “I don’t have grace, you’re right. But Colby does. He’s got grace, and brains, and enough humility for all of us.”

#

There’s a very long pause, long enough that Ian looks up and around the room, checks out all four glass walls to see if anyone is coming to fetch him yet. Then Mike says, “Keep talking. Tell me everything.”

“I don’t have time for everything, it’ll take hours. The salient points, though, I can do. If I have to go, if they call me into a meeting, I swear to God I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

Mike sighs in his ear and it’s like Ian can hear the fight in him leak out. “I believe you. Talk.”

“I fucked up.” Really, that’s the biggest highlight but it’s probably the least informative. “I didn’t want to take Colby, I tried to avoid it, but he’s who I got stuck with. It didn’t go well.” Ian wants to take the understatement back. “I… I really didn’t want to spend time with him.”

Mike makes a noise that’s kind of a hum of agreement, but might be shorthand for “tell me something I don’t know”.

Ian keeps his eyes on the hallway so he can see if anyone’s heading toward him. “When they showed up in Montreal it confused the hell out of me.” Mike knows that, he’d tried to get Ian to talk about it but gave up in favor of dealing with his own broken body. Ian had counted on that at the time, but in hindsight he probably could have used a sounding board. “I didn’t understand, and it put a lot of thoughts in my head that shouldn’t have been there. So when I got myself trapped with Colby I wasn’t at my best.” Another understatement. It’s like Ian can’t help himself from trying to spin what he did, even when he knows it’s the worst thing to do. His fingers dig into the table top and he flexes his hand, over and over.

Mike grunts at him. “How bad were you?”

Ian doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He has to make himself unclench his jaw, uncurl his fingers from the fist he hadn’t intended to make. “Bad. Really awful, Mike. I was scared and I panicked.”

“Shit.” Mike sighs in his ear. “What did you do?”

Ian winces. “I did what I always do.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t beat the crap out of you, in that case.” Mike knows. Weirdly, Mike doesn’t sound upset at him. He sounds like he accepts that Ian was an idiot, and he wants the rest of the story before he decides how to react.

“He couldn’t since he was handcuffed to a post.” Mike’s not going to be impressed with that part. Ian hurries along. “He had a lot of time to think while I was pacing around and waiting for Charlie’s math to do its magic. Like I said, Colby’s smart and he was furious and hurt, but he figured me out, Mike, and he hit back with so much truth it was like he was taking me out at my knees physically. He kept coming at me, telling me that I was scared and running from him and Charlie, and that I must have done it before, been cruel like that before, to you, and he wasn’t going to have it.” Ian talks faster, purging himself as quickly as he can. “He said I was pushing him away because I wanted something impossible, but I was wrong, it wasn’t impossible. Or at least it hadn’t been before I was such an asshole. I couldn’t get him to shut up, and then he told me that he and Charlie had already talked it out, that they wanted me. Then it got confusing, the case came together and the marshals breached, and just before that happened Colby told me to be at his apartment that night if I wanted a chance. He said it was up to me, and I think it was a one-time offer, I can’t really remember. So I went.”

#

There’s silence from Mike for a long moment and then he says, “Okay. What? I mean, yes. It was pretty fucking clear to anyone not you that they were getting pretty close to the edge for you—no pun intended. Charlie knew, anyway, and maybe Granger was doing his own little dance of denial, but the three of you couldn’t pretend for much longer. But he actually gave you a clear window to get your shit together after you handcuffed him to a post and held him hostage for, like, eighteen hours?”

“Grace,” Ian repeats, and his voice is rough. “Humility. Plus, he’s pretty stubborn, but maybe not as stubborn as Charlie. And Charlie’s probably braver than both of us, right now.” Ian can’t get over how brave Charlie’s being, how he dragged both Ian and Colby off of the couch before either of them could stall things and retreat for a moment of panic and fear.

Mike laughs softly. “God. You’ve all gone and fallen in love. Wow.” He sounds like it’s the world’s most amusing gotcha joke.

Ian ignores the laughter and bites at his lower lip. “They had a whole talk planned. Before, I mean. We spent a long time dealing with the prison stuff, and Charlie punched me in the face, and we’re still dealing with how I acted. But they had a whole thing planned. They told me important details about them, about what they want from me, about how they see the future for all of us. I… it’s a lot. It’s huge. The amount of thought they put into how I’d fit into their life together and still be free is…” He doesn’t have words for what it is, not yet. “They told me all this stuff and they sent me out to walk and think and that’s when I called you. Because this isn’t something that’s ever happened before, Mike, and when they say this stuff to me it all makes sense but then I turn around, and I think, and I just don’t get it. They don’t want me to change anything. Nothing. They just want me.” He has no idea how to deal with that, not yet.

“Do you want them to change anything?” Mike asks quietly.

“No. I asked them to keep this private for a while so we can see what this is going to look like, what it’s going to feel like. I don’t want them to change anything for me—there’s going to be changes anyway. Colby’s moving into Charlie’s house, we’re keeping his apartment for the three of us for now. I’m going to live with them. At least, I’ll have a place to say I’m living, when I’m not teaching or hunting fugitives. Not a bolthole.” Ian can feel his eyes growing wide and he makes himself calm down, forces himself to be an agent, a sniper. This is not the place to have an emotional moment.

Any tone Mike had been using is gone. He’s just Weston. “Does it make you feel trapped, suddenly having a home?”

Ian shakes his head. “No, that didn’t even cross my mind. Mostly it makes me feel giddy. And confused. I never anticipated this. I didn’t ever think that they’d thought all of it through to the end, and they did. It’s overwhelming.”

Mike laughs again. “You know what? You were thinking like a hunter, thinking about bringing them to you, and you didn’t think you could do it. You’ve been the hunter for decades, Ian. You forgot that everyone’s prey. Even you.”

#

Ian sits with that for a moment. “Well, they caught me. The strangest thing—today, anyway, it keeps changing—is that I’m fine with that part. I don’t have an urge to run, to get in a truck and drive for two days. I’m going to fight to stay in LA for a while, a couple of weeks if I can. I want to spend time with them and figure out what they do when I’m not in town. What they’re like when we’re not all working, or hurting, or in a crisis.”

“That sounds pretty fantastic. I’m happy for you, Ian. I also want to hear Granger’s side of things in a year or so when things are calmer and he doesn’t want to smack you for the hostage thing. I bet he can tell a good story.”

“Charlie’s the storyteller,” Ian tells him. He catches sight of himself reflected on the glass and stops grinning. He shouldn’t be grinning while he waits to be yelled at by his superiors.

“Okay, whatever. I gotta go—they’re coming for you in about three minutes. Oh, what are you going to do about Florida?”

Ian’s already thought about that. “I’ll go when I’m done here, route my flights through weird connections on my way back to the east coast. This isn’t a conversation to have over the phone.”

“Mmm. How do you think it’ll go?”

“It’ll be fine. Honestly, I’m not worried about bad feelings or anything, it’s just that there’s a level of respect in discussing this face to face. Plus, I want to see the dogs again.”

Mike laughs. “Of course. All right, call me when you want. I’m around for a while. If the phones go dark I’ll reach out when I can.”

Ian nods. “Keep your head down.”

“Same. And don’t fuck this up, Ian. You deserve this, even if you don’t think so yet.” He hangs up before Ian can even begin to think of a reply.

The thing is, though, Ian’s already decided that whether or not it’s deserved, he wants this. He wants Colby and Charlie so bad he’s already preparing to make some specific arrangements, just for everyone’s security.

He puts his phone down on the table and checks the time. If Mike’s timeline is correct (and it always is) he’s got one minute to put on his game face—the suitably contrite one that’ll make everyone’s life easier. His phone flashes a text message at him. We’ve finished our interviews. Good luck, and I’ll see you at home. 

Ian has to work at not grinning again.