The original version of this story was written for the Numb3rs New Year challenge on LiveJournal, and I tried to incorporate the prompts that were requested by the person for whom it was written. The story as it stands is complete, but real life events meant that it was a slightly rough version posted to LiveJournal. I'm revising it as and when I have time, so I'm afraid it's going to be posted in chapters rather than all at once.

It's slash, Ian/Colby. For those of you who aren't keen on even implied sex scenes, the only one in this story is in the first chapter. And for those of you who are keen on them, my apologies - you'll see as the story develops there's a reason why they're somewhat lacking. :)

Anyway, if anyone out there is still reading Numb3rs fic, I hope you enjoy!

Homecoming

The things capable of taking down Ian Edgerton could be counted on the fingers of one hand and still leave several to spare. Unfortunately, Ian realised, he was going to have to add another item to that very short, very exclusive list. Colby Granger had just opened his apartment door in answer to Ian's knock and the look of delight on his face twisted its way past every single one of Ian's defences.

"Ian," Colby said in surprise. "I didn't know you were in LA."

"What would be the fun in letting people know beforehand?" Ian asked, shouldering his duffel and gun case again and stepping into Colby's small apartment. "I'd probably end up getting a math lecture."

"You know you'll get that anyway," Colby pointed out as he closed the door and watched Ian drop his bags to the hall floor.

"Was hoping I might get something else first," Ian said, because subtlety was overrated.

"Really?" There was a grin in Colby's voice as Ian let himself be crowded back against the wall, Colby's large body pressed against his, his hands resting on Ian's waist as their lips met.

It had been too long since he'd last had this, had Colby, and he didn't intend to waste a second. But Colby had ideas of his own, and the next few minutes were a whirl of low, soft sounds as they kissed, Colby making little sounds of need deep in his throat, the rasp of Ian's zipper being lowered, and then Colby was on his knees in front of him. An embarrassingly short while later, it was all over.

The only thing that saved Ian from complete mortification was that it scarcely took the touch of his hand on Colby to have him shuddering and crying out, wetness spilling between them. And after that, Ian took him to bed, needing to reacquaint himself with every last part of Colby.

When he pushed into him, his breath coming in harsh short pants, stirring the soft hair at the nape of Colby's neck, he had to fight back the sudden feeling that this was like coming home. It had been a long time since he'd seen him, that was all.

Later, they lay in bed together, and Colby traced Ian's body with his hands, over and over, the way he always did, as though making sure Ian really was there.

"You might just have got me kicked out of the Bureau," he said. "I've got my fitness test tomorrow – don't reckon I've got a hope of passing after that."

"I was limbering you up for it."

"Well, yeah, and ensuring every other guy in the locker room can see just what I was up to tonight," Colby complained, a hand to the mark on his neck Ian had left. They were usually much more careful than that, but it had been too long and something inside Ian had wanted to mark Colby, to claim him.

That realisation seemed to hit Colby all of a sudden. "Oh," he said, startled, before his expression wavered into disbelief and then that whole stupid puppy delight thing he'd had going at the front door.

Ian sighed. "Granger, how the hell did you ever get recruited as an agent, let alone a spy?"

Colby glared at him, but the smile that was tugging at his lips meant his glower was anything but intimidating. Ian pulled him in close and ruffled his hair into spikes, which had Colby glaring harder, until he ended up looking like a grumpy baby hedgehog.

"Just making sure everyone else knows to back off," Ian said, and pretended not to notice the way Colby moved closer into his hold even as he huffed indignantly at his statement. Ian had the suspicion that Colby wasn't sure just where he stood with Ian, but that was fine. In Ian's experience, the minute you started trying to define something, started talking about feelings and relationships or any of that, that's when it all went to crap. And Colby didn't push, which left things just the way Ian liked them – free and uncomplicated.

"Are you going into the office tomorrow?" Colby asked. "There's probably a math lecture with your name on it."

"Isn't there always? I don't know where the professor got the idea I liked math."

"Probably because you're nicer to him than you are to anyone else."

"Oh, really? You don't count what I just did to you as being nice?"

To Ian's delight, Colby honest-to-God blushed.

"I guess I'll go in and see what's going on," Ian returned to their original topic. "I'm waiting on a call from Hawaii, so I might as well see if I can do something while I'm here."

"Hawaii? The surf's awesome out there."

"You could always come with me. You'd look kind of hot in a grass skirt."

While he'd meant it as a joke, it suddenly didn't sound all that bad, having Colby with him more often, grass skirt optional. At that point Ian decided he needed to disentangle himself from Colby's warm grasp that would be so easy to relax into, and go to the bathroom, because he didn't do this. He didn't do commitment.

By the time he came back, Colby was asleep. Ian slipped into bed beside him. Colby seemed somehow to sense it and rolled over to slide an arm round Ian, his legs tangling with Ian's in a way that should leave Ian feeling trapped. Ian didn't do this for a very good reason – it never lasted. He never wanted it to last. And he realised, as he was falling asleep, that those two things possibly had something to do with one another.

Next morning Ian found himself at FBI headquarters, listening to Don instructing his agents in a shorthand that showed just what a well-oiled machine his team had become. And that was an unfortunate choice of image, bringing to mind as it did Colby's muscular body slicked up with baby oil and glistening. Ian took a swig from his coffee and wrenched his mind back to the topic at hand, not thinking about Colby, at this moment down in the gym undergoing strenuous physical testing. He wondered if he'd be wearing that faded FBI t-shirt, the one that had been washed so many times it was worn thin and had shrunk a bit, meaning it clung deliciously to every single one of his muscles – and that was a whole lot of muscles - when he got sweaty.

"Ian?"

Don was looking at him curiously, and he shook himself. God damn it, he didn't do this. He put it down to not enough sleep over the past three weeks while he'd trailed a child killer from New Mexico all the way to Maine. Seriously, Maine. Who did that? And then Ian had jumped on a plane and come out to LA ready to fly on to Hawaii. Dropping in on Colby and the rest of them while he was here was just a bonus.

"I can cover whatever's left," he said, looking at the map Don had divided into sectors. Charlie had done something predictably incomprehensible to trace back the path of gun smuggling from the streets of LA to a two-hundred square mile tract of rural California. Somewhere amidst the vineyards and the farms, there had to be someone who knew something, who'd seen something out of place.

Don glanced at his watch. "You want to hang on for Colby? The two of you can take the south-east quadrant."

That sounded fine to Ian. It was the smallest area, so even with a later start they should get it done before dark. He sat down to read through the case file as Don led the rest of the team out.

Colby finally came back into the office, his hair still damp from showering, and looking loose-limbed and relaxed. Ian was not going to think about the fact he looked like that after sex. He absolutely was not, because the one thing they didn't do was let whatever it was they had together affect them when they were working. No one else on the team knew they'd hooked up. None of them, apart from Don and, in Colby's case, David, even knew either of them were gay. They were here to do a job. A job that could be damned dangerous if it didn't have all of their concentration all of the time. Their relationship, or whatever the hell it was, stayed out of the office and out of the field, and that was as it should be.

He tossed the map to Colby, who seemed surprised and a little disappointed to find everyone else had gone without him. "Come on, Granger – we're going fishing."