More Ian/Charlie, because this episode is made for it. Ian's total disregard for internal regulations is both humorous and useful in so many ways.

Disclaimer: Numb3rs isn't mine.

Clearance

"You're going to be so screwed for that when AD Wright finds out. You do know that, right?"

Ian paused on the stairs and glanced over his shoulder to the landing. "No one's going to be screwed for anything," he said coolly, offering a small smile to the mathematician just inside the stairwell door. "What the Assistant Director doesn't know won't kill anyone."

Charlie digested the declaration, and spoke up as Ian started moving again. "If Don loses his job for this, I will kill you."

Despite Charlie's seriousness, Ian laughed. "He won't lose his job, and you wouldn't kill anyone," he chuckled. "Even if you did manage to find me."

"I can track you down. I have my ways," Charlie said, his features arranged in an impenetrable poker face.

"What, an algorithm of some kind," Ian said, his tone bordering on mocking. "Face it, Professor, your math can't predict me any more than I can understand it."

At that, Charlie grinned, cold and without humor. "Something to be said for actually bothering to pay attention in algebra, Ian," he said, following the sniper down the stairs to the next landing. "Seventy-three percent average your junior year, right?"

Ian paused again, turning sharply. "Seventy-three point four," he said defensively. "And where in God's name did you find that?"

Charlie smirked, raising his eyebrows. "I have my ways," he repeated, folding his arms.

"I'm sure you do," Ian muttered, turning to go back down the stairs. "Well, if all you're going to do is brag about your superior high school performance, I'll see you around," he said, waving one hand dismissively at the professor behind him.

Charlie chewed the inside of his cheek before blurting, "Thank you, okay?"

"For?"

"You know," Charlie said, eyebrows flicking together in annoyance. "You...didn't have to do that. You shouldn't have done that. So...thank you."

Ian studied him for a long, too-silent moment. "You're welcome," he said quietly. "Did the climbers get back alright?"

"Yeah, they're getting checked out by the medics right now," Charlie said. He exhaled slowly, like blowing out cigarette smoke, and raised an eyebrow at Ian. "How long are you in town for?"

"Couple more days," Ian said. "I might head back to Quantico a bit early, though."

Charlie chewed on the inside of his cheek and rocked back on his heels.

"...Unless you'd rather I stay the extra two days," Ian said, carefully laying the option back on the table.

Charlie sighed. "Can we talk?"

"Thought that's what we were doing?"

Annoyed, Charlie swatted at the sniper's shoulder. "Damnit, Ian, you know what I mean."

Ian chuckled softly. "Yeah. I know." He shrugged. "I'm free for the next hour or so, if you wanted to go grab coffee or something?"

"Just the next hour," Charlie said with a disbelieving smile. "What happened to two days of just hanging around LA?"

Ian grinned. "My sister. It's my nephew's birthday, and I promised I'd call before he went to bed."

"Is this the nephew that wants to be a superhero when he grows up," Charlie asked, taking a few steps down to be even with Ian.

"That's the one," Ian laughed. "He loved the comic book you got him for Christmas, by the way."

"Huh-uh, that was from you," Charlie protested. "I had nothing to do with it."

"Right," Ian said, his expression dissolving into a fond smile. "Either way."

"Either way," Charlie agreed, letting the walk down to Ian's car lapse into comfortable silence.

Somewhere between the stairwell door and Ian's aging Toyota, Charlie stopped and rubbed his eyes. "Ian," he said quietly, making the other man pause as well. "What are we doing?"

"Do you mean that literally, or generally," Ian asked as he turned around, only partially sarcastic.

"You know. Us. Together. What's happening here?"

"I don't know," Ian said. "What do you want to happen?"

Charlie sighed. "I know what I want to happen, I just don't know if it can anymore," he muttered. "You left. Walked right out without so much as a goodbye. I'd understand if it was work related," Charlie said when Ian opened his mouth to interrupt, "I know what your job's like, and I understand that you're not going to be here all the time, and you sometimes have to leave without warning. But that wasn't work related, was it? You left because I was being stupid, and now I don't know if we're actually done or not here."

Ian studied him carefully, trying to decide what he was going to say. "Charlie," he started, taking a slow step towards his possibly-soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend. "I didn't leave because you were being stupid. You weren't being stupid. I..." He sighed. "I actually have no idea why I left. I wish I did, so I might actually have an excuse. But the truth of the matter is I don't. Guess I just got stir crazy." Ian reached out for Charlie's hand, pleasantly surprised when the gamble didn't backfire. Charlie's fingers looped into his, the chalk dusted fingertips loosely pressed against the back of his hand. "I guess all I can do is ask you to forgive me, but ultimately, this is your decision."

Charlie closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, obviously tired of the whole thing. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he whispered, and pressed his lips to Ian's.

Ian wrapped his arms around Charlie's waist, heedless of the elevator opening across the parking garage. Charlie's arms slipped up his shoulders, wrapping around Ian's neck and pulling himself closer. "Am I forgiven," Ian asked as Charlie pulled away.

"We'll see," Charlie said with a tired smile. "Forgive me for being pissed at you?"

"If you insist," Ian chuckled, leading the rest of the way to his truck. "So, exactly how did you manage to find my high school grades?"

Charlie laughed. "Huh-uh. You have to earn that clearance back," he said with a smug grin.

"Funny, coming from you," Ian shot back, pulling Charlie in for another kiss. "But I guess we all need goals, now don't we."

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