Fic for cerealkiller0 Part 5 of 5
Recipient: cerealkiller0
Author: TBA
Disclaimer: Author doesn't own the show or the characters and isn't making any profit.
Title: Theory and Application (Part 5)
Pairing: Don/Colby; Don/Ian; Don/Colby/Ian; a 'blink and you'll miss it' mention of past Don/Ian/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Solving bank robberies, tracking down fugitives, sleeping with a member of his team - it’s all in a day’s work for Don Eppes. So a visit from an old friend shouldn’t change anything, right?
Author's Note: A huge thanks you to my beta for her clear-sightedness and enthusiastic encouragement throughout the writing of this.
********
Don opened the apartment door to Ian’s knock. “You didn’t bring takeout.”
“Astounding powers of observation, Eppes,” Ian commented as he came in and deposited his gun case and bags, a brown paper sack tucked under his arm with what looked like leafy vegetables poking out of the top. “I’ve got your duffel, Granger - you forgot it this morning.”
Colby gave a remarkable impression of a deer in headlights for a minute before he recovered himself. “Thanks,” he said.
“And the takeout…?” Not that Don had been looking forward to it all day or anything.
“Yeah, about that,” Colby started, “Ian staged a mutiny. I think he’s going to feed us field-dressed buffalo and raw turnips or something equally appetising.”
“Doesn’t he know I’m injured?”
“Knowing and caring are two different things. Granger, I need you on KP. Don, you’re off the hook this time.”
Don tried not to smirk at the expression on Colby’s face but it was a losing battle as he sat back down on the couch and waited to see just what delicious concoction Ian was going to produce. He could hear the sound of low conversation from the kitchen though only occasional words, which seemed most of the time to have to do with the proper way to prepare vegetables. Or rather, the wrong way to do it. Ian sounded somewhat particular about it.
Some time later, when something was beginning to smell good, Ian came back out and sat down next to Don.
“You left Colby in charge?” Don asked in alarm.
“I reckon he can be trusted to wash the pans,” Ian assured him. “There’s nothing more to do for a while.”
They sat quietly, the only sound the banging of pots and pans in the kitchen. Don was pretty sure Colby didn’t actually need to be that loud. Maybe he was making a point.
“You all right?” Ian asked eventually, eyes fixed on the pattern his hand was tracing on Don’s thigh.
Or maybe Colby was being tactful. There was a first time for everything.
“I’m good,” he said, quietly forceful before he leaned towards Ian who met him more than halfway and they kissed briefly.
“Good,” Ian said. Then heaved a sigh. “I’d better go see what havoc Granger’s wreaked in there,” he said. “You just can’t get the staff these days.”
“Tell me about it.”
His put-upon tone might have been more believable if Don hadn’t felt a smile growing on his face. He leaned back against the couch, enjoying the relative peace while Colby and Ian did God knew what to his kitchen in the name of dinner.
His smile disappeared suddenly. Ian’s duffel and gun were by the front door, ready for him to leave, with Colby’s smaller duffel sitting nearby. All those khaki duffels were beginning to make the place feel like a military way station: transient, and all too easy to leave with no sign anyone had ever been here.
Colby came out and joined him on the couch a while later.
“Apparently I was distracting Ian,” he said, looking far too innocent for Don’s peace of mind. “And no, I’m not telling you how because otherwise you’ll use it to get out of KP next time.”
“Oh God, is this going to be a regular thing?” Don asked. “Chopping carrots and peeling buffalo?”
“Guess so,” Colby said, stretching lazily with every appearance of satisfaction at the prospect. Then he suddenly stopped. “Oh,” he said. “Except Ian’s off to Nebraska tomorrow.”
It blindsided Don. If he’d thought about it he would have known that Ian would leave the minute Marriott was no longer an active case for him, but he’d had one or two other things on his mind since Marriott had been taken down. Speaking of which… He brushed the back of his fingers across Colby’s cheek, just because he could. Colby ducked his head self-consciously but couldn’t quite hide the smile that was starting, which Don found was somehow infectious.
“So,” Don said after a minute, beginning to get his head around the fact that Ian was leaving, “No more gourmet meals.”
Colby turned to look at him. “It’s not like Ian’s not coming back,” he said, though there was a slight question in his voice.
Don held his gaze, making sure. He couldn’t afford to get this wrong. “No,” he said, finally. “It’s not.”
Colby nodded, satisfied, and Don leaned in to kiss him.
They were still kissing when the wet dishcloth hit Don upside the head, Ian’s aim as true as ever.
“Guess that means peeled buffalo is served,” Colby said with a grin.
**
Don was brought out of his doze - cunningly camouflaged as ‘watching the game’ - by the wrestling match that seemed to have started down the other end of the couch. He could have warned Colby but really, if he didn’t know by now that what Ian wanted Ian always got, then he deserved what was coming to him. Ian made a grab for the remote only for Colby to twist away with a triumphant grin as he kept it in his hand. And then that grin was wiped off his face as Ian’s move proved to be a feint and he ended up buried beneath Edgerton, possession of the remote a distant memory.
“Ow.” Colby sat up, rubbing his head from where it had gotten banged against the
angular arm of the couch.
“That does it,” Don said. “First thing Saturday morning, we’re going couch shopping.”
“Make it mid-morning and you’ve got yourself a deal. This thing’s a menace.”
Don yawned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so much, but he didn’t want to go to bed yet because then tomorrow would be here and Ian would be leaving. Then again… He looked down the couch to where Ian currently had Colby’s head trapped under his arm and was delivering an enthusiastic and professional-looking noogie, and reconsidered. At least he would no longer be surrounded by children. And if anybody had told him, ever, that Ian Edgerton, Sniper Extraordinaire, was capable of behaving like a seven year old, he would have laughed in their face.
Another yawn split his face, and he knew he should turn in.
“I’m going to bed,” he said, levering himself to his feet. “Keep it down to a dull roar out here, would you?” And shit - he’d taken that line straight from his dad’s playbook. He would have shaken his head if he weren’t so wary of starting the drill in his head back up again.
“Right behind you,” Colby said, taking advantage of Ian’s momentary distraction to extract himself and stand up. “You need your painkillers?”
“Got ‘em,” Don mumbled, and took himself off to the bedroom where it was almost too much effort to strip off and climb into bed.
“Hey Don,” Colby’s voice floated through from the living room. “You seen my duffel?”
“I put it in the closet. You should keep it there - I’m sick of falling over the damn thing.”
Although he closed his eyes, it wasn’t till Ian and Colby joined him that Don was finally able to sleep.
********
Ian was up early, ready to move out to his next gig. He made himself coffee while Don and Colby were still fast asleep and tangled up together like a pair of octopuses with abandonment issues. He’d thought briefly about leaving before they woke; it wasn’t as if there was anything to be said and they’d probably welcome some time alone right now. He didn’t know what had happened, just that Eppes seemed finally to have pulled his head out of his ass where Granger was concerned. Or more charitably, perhaps near death experiences trumped even deep-seated fears and commitment issues. Whatever. Last night there’d been an ease between them and a contentment from Don that he hadn’t seen before, while it was the first time he’d seen Granger look truly happy.
Tempting though it was, leaving while they were asleep didn’t feel right. He was thinking about waking them when he heard noises that indicated there was in fact sentient life elsewhere in the apartment. The bedroom turned out to be empty so he followed the sounds to the bathroom. The sight that met his eyes through the glass screen was one that he suspected would keep his thoughts away from the dangers of marauding moose for some nights to come. Colby was on his knees in front of Don, and Don - oh, God, Don was braced back against the wall, one hand on Colby’s head, his body spread out against the tiles shamelessly, as the water beat down on his chest and ran in rivulets down his skin. His eyes were closed and his face lifted almost as if he was having a religious experience - and from the way Colby knew how to use his tongue, Ian figured that might not be that far from the truth. As Don had said, it was a damn shame he couldn’t find a way to work it into Colby’s annual evaluation because a talent like that should be recognised.
Colby was doing most of the work, his head moving up and down as with one hand he braced Don’s right hip - and now he could see that they’d wrapped a plastic bag over Don’s dressing - and the other was curved in a tight wet grip round himself, moving in a rhythm that Ian knew meant he was close. And Ian could see why, with the way his lips were stretched around Don’s thick cock, taking it in deep before letting it slide out again.
He saw Don’s hips thrust despite Colby’s hold, and then he heard even over the sound of the water the series of gasps that Don always made when he came. Don stood for a moment, chest heaving and eyes still closed, then he made an abortive attempt to grab Colby and pull him up, his hands slipping over the wet skin, unable to get a proper grip. Colby evidently knew what he wanted and got to his feet, and Don’s hands wrapped hard in his hair, pulling Colby’s mouth against his.
Don’s hands were forceful on Colby as they kissed, moving over every inch of him as if reassuring himself that Colby really was there. As Ian watched Don say all the things with his body that he couldn’t say with words, as he saw that Colby understood and that his hold on Don was just as fierce, Ian thought that maybe Don had found the thing that would keep him away from that edge that seemed to have been calling him for so long.
Retreating silently, he was thankful again that people never seemed to see him until he wanted them to.
He double-checked his stuff. It was all there, ordered and packed and ready to head out. The only problem was, he wasn’t quite ready. All those other times he’d put his duffel on his shoulder and left without a backwards look; this time he thought it would be for the last time, and that - that left him feeling like he didn’t want to lose something that had never been his in the first place.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent checking that he had all his gear, but by the time Don and Colby emerged from the bedroom, hair still damp from the shower, his muscles protested at the change in position as he straightened up from his crouch. He’d stayed too long, and it was time to go.
“So, Nebraska,” Don said.
Ian shrugged. “Someone’s got to.”
He made to heft his duffel on his shoulder but Don was suddenly in front of him.
“I hear they have phone reception up there,” he said. “There’s a wild rumour they might even have internet. For emails and stuff.”
“Stuff?” Ian said, trying to parse Don’s meaning.
Don stepped right into his space and kissed him, his tongue demanding entry. Ian allowed it, and then commonsense overtook him and he grabbed Don and kissed him back as if his life depended on it, because if this was the last he was getting of Don Eppes he was going to make the most of it.
They finally separated, and Ian felt a sudden fierce gladness to see Don breathing hard, his lips looking bruised and full.
He tore his eyes from Don’s face when Colby moved forward.
“You’d better not be gone for too long,” Colby said. “I don’t reckon I’ll survive on Don’s cooking.”
His hand cupped Ian’s cheek as his mouth met Ian’s, and there was a sweetness to his kiss that made Ian understand fully for the first time what it was that held Don so bound. As they pulled back, Ian’s thumb went up to trace along Colby’s lower lip and his mouth opened slightly under Ian’s touch, his tongue flicking against Ian’s thumb.
“Slutty,” Ian whispered, and kissed him again. Colby made a happy little noise of agreement into his mouth.
When their kiss ended, Ian took a few steps back and looked at them both, sure, yet unsure. Then Don said his name and tossed something to him, which Ian caught on reflex. He opened his hand to find he was holding the spare door key.
“Just let us know when you get here,” Don said. “I’d hate for one of us to shoot you thinking you were an intruder.”
“You really think you could take me before I got you?” Ian asked incredulously, tucking the key away into his pocket.
“Well I was hoping you wouldn’t actually be trying to shoot me or Colby,” Don said.
And then he smiled, that rare wide-open smile that caused his eyes to crease at the corners.
“We’ll see you soon, Ian,” he said.
As Ian packed his gun and kit away in the trunk of his car, glancing up at the apartment building one last time before focusing his mind on the hunt in front of him, he knew Don was right. He wouldn’t stay away for long.
END
Author: TBA
Disclaimer: Author doesn't own the show or the characters and isn't making any profit.
Title: Theory and Application (Part 5)
Pairing: Don/Colby; Don/Ian; Don/Colby/Ian; a 'blink and you'll miss it' mention of past Don/Ian/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: Solving bank robberies, tracking down fugitives, sleeping with a member of his team - it’s all in a day’s work for Don Eppes. So a visit from an old friend shouldn’t change anything, right?
Author's Note: A huge thanks you to my beta for her clear-sightedness and enthusiastic encouragement throughout the writing of this.
********
Don opened the apartment door to Ian’s knock. “You didn’t bring takeout.”
“Astounding powers of observation, Eppes,” Ian commented as he came in and deposited his gun case and bags, a brown paper sack tucked under his arm with what looked like leafy vegetables poking out of the top. “I’ve got your duffel, Granger - you forgot it this morning.”
Colby gave a remarkable impression of a deer in headlights for a minute before he recovered himself. “Thanks,” he said.
“And the takeout…?” Not that Don had been looking forward to it all day or anything.
“Yeah, about that,” Colby started, “Ian staged a mutiny. I think he’s going to feed us field-dressed buffalo and raw turnips or something equally appetising.”
“Doesn’t he know I’m injured?”
“Knowing and caring are two different things. Granger, I need you on KP. Don, you’re off the hook this time.”
Don tried not to smirk at the expression on Colby’s face but it was a losing battle as he sat back down on the couch and waited to see just what delicious concoction Ian was going to produce. He could hear the sound of low conversation from the kitchen though only occasional words, which seemed most of the time to have to do with the proper way to prepare vegetables. Or rather, the wrong way to do it. Ian sounded somewhat particular about it.
Some time later, when something was beginning to smell good, Ian came back out and sat down next to Don.
“You left Colby in charge?” Don asked in alarm.
“I reckon he can be trusted to wash the pans,” Ian assured him. “There’s nothing more to do for a while.”
They sat quietly, the only sound the banging of pots and pans in the kitchen. Don was pretty sure Colby didn’t actually need to be that loud. Maybe he was making a point.
“You all right?” Ian asked eventually, eyes fixed on the pattern his hand was tracing on Don’s thigh.
Or maybe Colby was being tactful. There was a first time for everything.
“I’m good,” he said, quietly forceful before he leaned towards Ian who met him more than halfway and they kissed briefly.
“Good,” Ian said. Then heaved a sigh. “I’d better go see what havoc Granger’s wreaked in there,” he said. “You just can’t get the staff these days.”
“Tell me about it.”
His put-upon tone might have been more believable if Don hadn’t felt a smile growing on his face. He leaned back against the couch, enjoying the relative peace while Colby and Ian did God knew what to his kitchen in the name of dinner.
His smile disappeared suddenly. Ian’s duffel and gun were by the front door, ready for him to leave, with Colby’s smaller duffel sitting nearby. All those khaki duffels were beginning to make the place feel like a military way station: transient, and all too easy to leave with no sign anyone had ever been here.
Colby came out and joined him on the couch a while later.
“Apparently I was distracting Ian,” he said, looking far too innocent for Don’s peace of mind. “And no, I’m not telling you how because otherwise you’ll use it to get out of KP next time.”
“Oh God, is this going to be a regular thing?” Don asked. “Chopping carrots and peeling buffalo?”
“Guess so,” Colby said, stretching lazily with every appearance of satisfaction at the prospect. Then he suddenly stopped. “Oh,” he said. “Except Ian’s off to Nebraska tomorrow.”
It blindsided Don. If he’d thought about it he would have known that Ian would leave the minute Marriott was no longer an active case for him, but he’d had one or two other things on his mind since Marriott had been taken down. Speaking of which… He brushed the back of his fingers across Colby’s cheek, just because he could. Colby ducked his head self-consciously but couldn’t quite hide the smile that was starting, which Don found was somehow infectious.
“So,” Don said after a minute, beginning to get his head around the fact that Ian was leaving, “No more gourmet meals.”
Colby turned to look at him. “It’s not like Ian’s not coming back,” he said, though there was a slight question in his voice.
Don held his gaze, making sure. He couldn’t afford to get this wrong. “No,” he said, finally. “It’s not.”
Colby nodded, satisfied, and Don leaned in to kiss him.
They were still kissing when the wet dishcloth hit Don upside the head, Ian’s aim as true as ever.
“Guess that means peeled buffalo is served,” Colby said with a grin.
**
Don was brought out of his doze - cunningly camouflaged as ‘watching the game’ - by the wrestling match that seemed to have started down the other end of the couch. He could have warned Colby but really, if he didn’t know by now that what Ian wanted Ian always got, then he deserved what was coming to him. Ian made a grab for the remote only for Colby to twist away with a triumphant grin as he kept it in his hand. And then that grin was wiped off his face as Ian’s move proved to be a feint and he ended up buried beneath Edgerton, possession of the remote a distant memory.
“Ow.” Colby sat up, rubbing his head from where it had gotten banged against the
angular arm of the couch.
“That does it,” Don said. “First thing Saturday morning, we’re going couch shopping.”
“Make it mid-morning and you’ve got yourself a deal. This thing’s a menace.”
Don yawned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so much, but he didn’t want to go to bed yet because then tomorrow would be here and Ian would be leaving. Then again… He looked down the couch to where Ian currently had Colby’s head trapped under his arm and was delivering an enthusiastic and professional-looking noogie, and reconsidered. At least he would no longer be surrounded by children. And if anybody had told him, ever, that Ian Edgerton, Sniper Extraordinaire, was capable of behaving like a seven year old, he would have laughed in their face.
Another yawn split his face, and he knew he should turn in.
“I’m going to bed,” he said, levering himself to his feet. “Keep it down to a dull roar out here, would you?” And shit - he’d taken that line straight from his dad’s playbook. He would have shaken his head if he weren’t so wary of starting the drill in his head back up again.
“Right behind you,” Colby said, taking advantage of Ian’s momentary distraction to extract himself and stand up. “You need your painkillers?”
“Got ‘em,” Don mumbled, and took himself off to the bedroom where it was almost too much effort to strip off and climb into bed.
“Hey Don,” Colby’s voice floated through from the living room. “You seen my duffel?”
“I put it in the closet. You should keep it there - I’m sick of falling over the damn thing.”
Although he closed his eyes, it wasn’t till Ian and Colby joined him that Don was finally able to sleep.
********
Ian was up early, ready to move out to his next gig. He made himself coffee while Don and Colby were still fast asleep and tangled up together like a pair of octopuses with abandonment issues. He’d thought briefly about leaving before they woke; it wasn’t as if there was anything to be said and they’d probably welcome some time alone right now. He didn’t know what had happened, just that Eppes seemed finally to have pulled his head out of his ass where Granger was concerned. Or more charitably, perhaps near death experiences trumped even deep-seated fears and commitment issues. Whatever. Last night there’d been an ease between them and a contentment from Don that he hadn’t seen before, while it was the first time he’d seen Granger look truly happy.
Tempting though it was, leaving while they were asleep didn’t feel right. He was thinking about waking them when he heard noises that indicated there was in fact sentient life elsewhere in the apartment. The bedroom turned out to be empty so he followed the sounds to the bathroom. The sight that met his eyes through the glass screen was one that he suspected would keep his thoughts away from the dangers of marauding moose for some nights to come. Colby was on his knees in front of Don, and Don - oh, God, Don was braced back against the wall, one hand on Colby’s head, his body spread out against the tiles shamelessly, as the water beat down on his chest and ran in rivulets down his skin. His eyes were closed and his face lifted almost as if he was having a religious experience - and from the way Colby knew how to use his tongue, Ian figured that might not be that far from the truth. As Don had said, it was a damn shame he couldn’t find a way to work it into Colby’s annual evaluation because a talent like that should be recognised.
Colby was doing most of the work, his head moving up and down as with one hand he braced Don’s right hip - and now he could see that they’d wrapped a plastic bag over Don’s dressing - and the other was curved in a tight wet grip round himself, moving in a rhythm that Ian knew meant he was close. And Ian could see why, with the way his lips were stretched around Don’s thick cock, taking it in deep before letting it slide out again.
He saw Don’s hips thrust despite Colby’s hold, and then he heard even over the sound of the water the series of gasps that Don always made when he came. Don stood for a moment, chest heaving and eyes still closed, then he made an abortive attempt to grab Colby and pull him up, his hands slipping over the wet skin, unable to get a proper grip. Colby evidently knew what he wanted and got to his feet, and Don’s hands wrapped hard in his hair, pulling Colby’s mouth against his.
Don’s hands were forceful on Colby as they kissed, moving over every inch of him as if reassuring himself that Colby really was there. As Ian watched Don say all the things with his body that he couldn’t say with words, as he saw that Colby understood and that his hold on Don was just as fierce, Ian thought that maybe Don had found the thing that would keep him away from that edge that seemed to have been calling him for so long.
Retreating silently, he was thankful again that people never seemed to see him until he wanted them to.
He double-checked his stuff. It was all there, ordered and packed and ready to head out. The only problem was, he wasn’t quite ready. All those other times he’d put his duffel on his shoulder and left without a backwards look; this time he thought it would be for the last time, and that - that left him feeling like he didn’t want to lose something that had never been his in the first place.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent checking that he had all his gear, but by the time Don and Colby emerged from the bedroom, hair still damp from the shower, his muscles protested at the change in position as he straightened up from his crouch. He’d stayed too long, and it was time to go.
“So, Nebraska,” Don said.
Ian shrugged. “Someone’s got to.”
He made to heft his duffel on his shoulder but Don was suddenly in front of him.
“I hear they have phone reception up there,” he said. “There’s a wild rumour they might even have internet. For emails and stuff.”
“Stuff?” Ian said, trying to parse Don’s meaning.
Don stepped right into his space and kissed him, his tongue demanding entry. Ian allowed it, and then commonsense overtook him and he grabbed Don and kissed him back as if his life depended on it, because if this was the last he was getting of Don Eppes he was going to make the most of it.
They finally separated, and Ian felt a sudden fierce gladness to see Don breathing hard, his lips looking bruised and full.
He tore his eyes from Don’s face when Colby moved forward.
“You’d better not be gone for too long,” Colby said. “I don’t reckon I’ll survive on Don’s cooking.”
His hand cupped Ian’s cheek as his mouth met Ian’s, and there was a sweetness to his kiss that made Ian understand fully for the first time what it was that held Don so bound. As they pulled back, Ian’s thumb went up to trace along Colby’s lower lip and his mouth opened slightly under Ian’s touch, his tongue flicking against Ian’s thumb.
“Slutty,” Ian whispered, and kissed him again. Colby made a happy little noise of agreement into his mouth.
When their kiss ended, Ian took a few steps back and looked at them both, sure, yet unsure. Then Don said his name and tossed something to him, which Ian caught on reflex. He opened his hand to find he was holding the spare door key.
“Just let us know when you get here,” Don said. “I’d hate for one of us to shoot you thinking you were an intruder.”
“You really think you could take me before I got you?” Ian asked incredulously, tucking the key away into his pocket.
“Well I was hoping you wouldn’t actually be trying to shoot me or Colby,” Don said.
And then he smiled, that rare wide-open smile that caused his eyes to crease at the corners.
“We’ll see you soon, Ian,” he said.
As Ian packed his gun and kit away in the trunk of his car, glancing up at the apartment building one last time before focusing his mind on the hunt in front of him, he knew Don was right. He wouldn’t stay away for long.
END