The day started badly. Simon called them into his office first thing that morning to break the bad news. The Chief Inspector for the Vancouver Police Department had called the governor and asked for assistance in helping his area break an international drug ring. The governor in turn had requested the best officers or detectives from each of the major cities; preferably ones with Vice backgrounds. Jim had been requested by name. Simon explained all this, quietly watching the emotions play out on the detective's face, and on that detective's partner's face. He didn't want Jim to go anymore than Jim wanted to go.
Jim was adamantly against the idea. "Dammit, Sir, I can't go--I have too much going on here. What am I supposed to do, just drop my case load?"
"I can't help it, Jim. The governor requested you personally. By name. She's been mightly impressed with you ever since the whole incident with Kincaid." Simon paused. "You and Sandburg are due to be in Vancouver in two days time. *Don't* push me on this, Jim."
Jim's mouth tightened, but he didn't say anything. Blair sighed mentally, then looked up, trying not to catch anyone's eye. "Um...I'm not going to be able to go."
"What?" "Huh?"
Two heads swiveled to look at him, two voices spoke at once. Jim speared Blair's gaze with his, and spoke again. "What do you mean, Chief?"
"I can't go with you, Jim. I have commitments to the University, too. We don't know how long this will last, right?" Blair directed his question to Simon, who nodded. Blair continued. "I can have a friend or another fellow take over my classes for one or two periods...but not indefinitely. I'll have to stay here this time," he finished in a sad, quiet voice.
"Okay, then, Jim --you're to report to Chief Inspector Howard by yourself. To tell the truth, I was a little nervous as to how we were going to explain Sandburg, but I guess that's water under the bridge now."
"Yeah, I guess so." Jim's voice was rough, and Blair winced at the tone. He couldn't blame him--poor guy, his Guide was all but deserting him. Was that why he felt so odd? A Guide was supposed to be there for his/her Sentinel. What would happen to Jim without him?
"If it doesn't wrap up before, I can join you when the semester is over." Blair felt a compulsion to break the silence that had descended over the room.
"That's fine, Chief." Jim waved absently in his direction, continuing to stare at some unseen thing on Simon's desk. Simon cleared his throat then and both men looked up at him.
"That's it, Jim. You're free to go home and make arrangements. The Vancouver police will pick up any expenses incurred in this, but it'll be retro--you'll have to take care of it to start."
"Are they going to cover room and board while I'm there?"
"You'll be given a place to stay. I don't know about the rest. You'll have to wait and find out from the Chief Inspector when you report to him."
"Okay." Jim nodded, then looked up and over at Blair. "Hey, Chief--could you give us a few minutes?"
"Sure, Jim." Blair nodded a farewell at Simon, and let himself out of the office.
He waited at Jim's desk, idly shuffling papers back and forth, until Jim exited. One look at Jim's face was enough to increase his already bad mood--Jim looked like a thundercloud about to break. He gestured with his head toward the door, and Blair got up to follow him out.
Once safely outside he did break. "I asked Simon again to let me off this--no go." Jim paced around the Explorer. "I told him this won't work without you--I need you to help me stay in control. He's sympathetic, but his hands are tied. You sure you can't go, Chief?"
"Ah, Jim, I'm sorry. I have to teach--it's part of the terms of my contract. I can't just up and leave in the middle of the semester." Blair frowned. "We'll figure something out, to help keep you from zoning."
They climbed into the Explorer, and drove home then, both men silent and unhappy.
Jim spent most of the rest of his last afternoon at home sorting through the stuff he would need to take with him, and packing it. He told Blair, "I don't know if I'll be able to come home at all--might as well take it and not need it, as need it and not have it."
Blair mostly sat around and watched, feeling troubled by the whole thing. He was going to stay in the loft. He'd offered to move out while Jim was gone, but his friend and partner wouldn't hear of it, even in wake of the so-called desertion. "This is your home too, Chief...don't even consider leaving." The words had warmed Blair in a way he had never thought he'd imagine. That Jim would trust him to stay and keep the loft up to his standards... Blair had long suspected that in spite of all of Jim's ribbing about the "house rules" he enjoyed the company--it'd just taken him a while to get used to it.
Blair left Jim to finish his packing and went to fix dinner. Their last dinner together for a while, Blair wanted it to be a nice one. He fixed a vegetable stir-fry, and sauted pork loins on the side. Combined with steamed rice, with white wine to top it off...pretty decent meal. He set the table, listening with a heavy heart to the sounds of Jim moving around, zipping up suitcases. Part of his brain kept telling him he should be thrilled--he'd have the loft all to himself for the next several months... The majority of his brain argued though that he enjoyed the companionship, knowing that there was someone there he could talk to, share experiences. He and Jim had moved beyond just friends, or working partners. They were true friends, sharing almost all aspects of their lives together. Blair shook his head. Mostly he was worried how Jim would do without him as a Guide; his backup. //Guess we'll figure something out.// A thought occurred to him, and he turned from the table to find some paper and a pencil. He could write down some of the relaxation techniques. That might help.
Jim came down the stairs a short time later to find his partner engrossed in scribbling on a piece of notebook paper. "Dinner ready?"
Blair looked up with a guilty start. He'd gotten so involved in what he was doing... "Yeah, just give me a minute."
"What're you doing?"
"Writing down some relaxation techniques for you... I don't know, man. I'm worried about you zoning. I know it hasn't happened in a while, but..."
"But you've been there to keep it from happening." Jim nodded. He was concerned about that, too. "Not much we can do about it though, unless you want to commute from Vancouver."
"Daily? No way, man. I don't mind driving, but that's definitely *not* my thing." Blair set aside the paper and pencil and headed into the kitchen. "You want to pour some wine?"
"Sure. Which one do you want?"
"White--goes better with pork."
Jim retrieved two wine glasses, remarking as he poured, "You know Chief, I may starve to death in the next several months."
"I'm sure you won't starve to death, Jim. Just...scout the area out when you get there--there's bound to be someone looking for a guy they can take care of." Blair grinned at his friend as he scooped food onto plates.
Jim laughed and shook his head. "You make me sound like a foundling someone has to take in and watch over." He set the glasses on the table, then reached for the plates that Blair was handing toward him.
"If the shoe fits, man. I've never seen anyone who *so* needs to be taken care of..." Blair moved to the table to sit down, Jim right behind him.
"Guess it's a good thing I have you then, isn't it?" Jim teased Blair back, but something about the words he'd just spoken set his pulse to fluttering. He smiled then, but it felt forced somehow. Blair looked at him, a questioning look in his eyes. Jim pushed his brain back into action. "Ready?"
"Yeah. Happy last meal, man." Blair raised a wine glass, and Jim clinked his against it.
Dishes were done, and all last minute preparations had been taken care of. Blair kept telling Jim he needed to go to bed if he was going to be rested for the drive the next morning, and Jim kept ignoring Blair. They sat on the couch, talking; fire crackling in the fireplace against the chill of the late winter night. It never ceased to amaze Jim the number of different subjects that Blair could talk about. His brain seemed like a sponge to the detective; soaking up bits of information that normally passed most people by. //Maybe that's part of his charm,// his inner voice whispered. Maybe. Blair was an enigma...but an appealing one. Not for the first time he was grateful Blair had come into his life when he had; he'd been annoying at first, until Jim got to know him better, but he'd proven himself time and again.
"Jim? Still with me, man?" Blair was waving a hand in front of his face.
Jim shook his head to clear it, and stood up. "Yeah... sorry, Chief. Want another beer?"
"No... Are you having one? You *really* should get to bed, man. It's after midnight."
"What are you Sandburg, my mother? I'll go to bed when I damn well feel like it."
Blair rolled his eyes. "Sorry, man. Just worried about you. You okay?"
"Fine." Jim came back with a beer in hand--his fourth for the evening, not counting the three glasses of wine with dinner--and sat down, swaying a little unsteadily as he did so. He looked at Blair; his roommate was watching him. "What?"
"Just wondering when you decided to get plastered, man."
"I'm not drunk."
"Right. And I'm Julius Caesar. What's wrong?"
Jim shook his head. "I don't know...something doesn't feel right."
"Doesn't *feel* right? What are you talkin' about Jim?"
"This." Jim gestured to the room at large. "Something's changed... Something's out of sync, and I can't figure out what it is."
"Maybe some sleep would help..." Blair stopped when Jim shook his head. //Probably'll have to wait until he passes out...// "How about a massage? I can go over the relaxation techniques with you, get you relaxed at the same time."
"What kind of massage?"
"Shoulders, neck. Why?"
"Just wondered. Okay."
Blair stared at Jim, his mouth gaping open slightly. Jim never agreed so readily to any of his suggestions for relaxing. Even after this long, he still usually had to push a little bit. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he got off the couch, and moved to perch on the armrest. "Okay, man. Turn around with your back toward me, and take your sweater off." Jim did as he asked, and waited. "Umm...take your T-shirt off, too. Wait, I have to get something." Blair bounded off the couch, and was back in just a minute. Jim waited, then felt something warm and slick touch his skin.
"What's that?"
"Massage oil. Almond-scented--nothing that's going to hurt you, or anything like that, man. And it's water-soluble...it'll wash off when you take a shower."
"Mmm. Smells good. How come?" Jim was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.
"How come what? Why am I using it?" Blair slicked his hands, and began digging his fingers into the tight muscles in front of him. The first motion wrung a groan from Jim, and Blair stopped, resting his hands on the warm skin beneath them. "Okay?"
"Yeah...hurts, but it feels good. Yeah, why're you usin' it."
"It's too hard to dry-massage--not as effective." His fingers danced over the firm muscles, and Blair tried not to think about what--who--he was touching. He'd massaged Jim before...what was so different this time? //Jim's right...something's out of sync here.//
"Ahh....oh, yeah...ohhh..." Jim couldn't stop the sounds issuing forth from him. Blair's fingers felt good digging into the coiled mass that made up his back and shoulders. He shivered as his heightened senses transmitted the pleasurable feelings to all parts of his body; he felt himself beginning to grow hard. //Shit.// He flexed his neck slightly under Blair's ministrations. //That's it then...that's what's different. But why?// He shook himself mentally. Too much beer, too much tension, a seductive setting... A forced separation? He felt Blair's hands still, felt them resting lightly on his shoulders.
Jim turned; driven by a force he didn't understand, but was helpless to control. Blair moved his hands as Jim shifted around, but stayed where he was, a questioning look on his face. Jim raised one hand up to tangle it into Blair's hair, and drew his partner's face down toward his. He ran the thumb of his other hand across Blair's lower lip, stroking gently. Then he cupped Blair's face in his hands, pressed his mouth against Blair's, and felt those lips soften and open under his.
They kissed hungrily for several long minutes, tongues exploring unfamiliar territory, mating and playing together; savoring new tastes and textures. Jim was riveted in place by the explosion of tastes flooding his mouth--bits of dinner, alcohol, cinnamon, cloves, mouthwash...*Blair*. He brought the other hand up to pull Blair's face closer to his, holding him in place by tangling both hands through the silky curls. Raw silk, flowing over and around his fingers...
With a jolt Jim realized what he was doing, and who he was doing it with, and he pulled back, abruptly. Both of them were breathing hard, and Blair had his hands wrapped around Jim's arms, holding on for support. Jim looked at Blair; his mouth swollen and slightly bruised by their kisses, looking at him with an unfathomable look in his eyes. His own body ached, a tight feeling flowering in the pit of his stomach; passions unleashed that were demanding fulfillment. He couldn't. What had he been thinking? Without a word to Blair Jim bolted off the couch, and up the stairs.
Blair watched him go, feeling the prick of tears in his eyes. //That's what was wrong. No, wrong isn't the word for it. That's what was different. How long has he wanted to do that? How long have I wanted him to...?// He ran the pad of his thumb across his lips, shivering as the memories of Jim's mouth on his assailed him. Now what?
Nothing was said the next morning about what had happened. Jim was slightly hung-over, and grumpy from his headache. Blair was still processing everything. He put some muffins and a couple pieces of fruit into a bag, along with a large thermos of coffee. The trip to Vancouver wouldn't take more than about four hours, tops, but there weren't many decent places to stop to eat on the way. Blair suspected that Jim's stomach wasn't going to be its usual self today, either.
He helped Jim load the truck up, then they walked up to the loft for the last time together for a while. Blair looked at Jim, wondering what to say to this man who'd rocked him to the core last night. He decided on neutral, slightly teasing.
"Have a good trip. Call and let me know when you get there, okay? Just so I don't have visions of you as road-kill." He tried to smile, managed a tremulous one.
Jim answered with a shaky smile of his own. He could feel his stomach clenching and unclenching, and hoped it was from the hang-over. //Not!// His brain responded, gleefully. //Do what you want to do...kiss him again!// Oh, God. "I will. But Chief...it's generally small furry things that become road-kill."
"Yeah, well, if you go up against a tractor-trailer, man...you know, the biggest wins."
"Yeah." They stood there in the doorway, staring at each other, feeling the unease of the moment stretch into infinity. Finally, in an effort to release some of the tension, Blair handed Jim the bag he'd filled for him. Their fingers brushed in passing, and each felt the shock waves ripple through them. "Thanks." Jim wondered if his voice really sounded that hoarse, or if it was just him.
"You're welcome. Better get going, man." Blair suddenly wanted him out of there; if only so he could sit and think about all that had happened in the last eight hours or so.
"Yeah. Take care of yourself, Chief." Jim raised a hand up, and gently brushed Blair's hair back. "I'll...miss you." He cupped Blair's head in his hand for a minute, swaying dangerously toward him. He caught himself then and pulled back, removing his hand. "'Bye."
"'Bye, Jim."
Then he was gone, and Blair felt an ache growing in his chest...a feeling he'd never figured he'd feel toward Jim Ellison. A feeling he was too afraid to name. Maybe Jim wasn't the only one who'd had too much to drink.
A Pause
<phone ringing>
<click> "Hey, you've reached Ellison and Sandburg--neither one of us can come to the phone right now; leave a message if you want."
<pause> "Hey, Chief. Just thought I'd let you know I got here okay--I meant to call yesterday, but got sidetracked by the paperwork here. <sigh> Nice to know there are some constants in the universe. Anyway, I'll send you the address and phone number where I'll be staying, as soon as I get them--just in case you need them. And you've got the cell phone, in an emergency. Take care, buddy."
Blair rewound the message, wondered how many times he could play it without wearing the tape out. A deep sigh forced its way up out of him, and he wondered just exactly when Jim had come to mean...whatever it was he meant now. More than a friend, certainly...but, was he ready for the next step along that path? More importantly...was Jim?
Feb. 15, 1997
Blair:
Hi, just wanted to write a quick note to you and let you know where you can reach me: 234 Rue de Seines, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada X3N L82. And since you've got the address now, could you send me the three books that are on the top shelf of my closet? Right hand side? I've been meaning to go over them for a while, and haven't had a chance. Maybe I'll try while I'm up here. I don't have a phone yet--I'll send you the number if I get one, but the Captain in charge here says there are no plans for a phone right now, as long as I have the cell phone. Something about saving on expenses that aren't necessary. Search me, I'd have thought a phone would be a necessary thing. Oh well, maybe they do things differently here.
Sorry we didn't get a chance to talk about the other night. I'm not sure what happened... I hope you're not too upset. I don't usually have that much to drink...and I've never...well, anyway. It wasn't just the alcohol...although I probably wouldn't have done it without the extra courage. I care about you, Blair; I'm just not sure which direction my feelings lie in. I've never been attracted to another man like this before, and I'm having some trouble with this. I hope you understand, since I sure don't.
They set me up in a townhouse type building--the outside kind of looks like a Brownstone in New York. Inside isn't as fancy, of course, but it's a nice place, two bedrooms, two baths. I don't know what I'm going to do with all this room. Rattle around here, I suppose. Actually, I don't plan to be here much. The sooner we get the drug ring taken care of, the sooner I can get back to my life. The sooner we can figure things out between us.
Anyway, I'll be in touch. Send those books when you get the chance, okay, Chief? I'll talk to you later,
Jim
Jim lay in bed that night, thinking about the letter he'd sent off to Blair earlier in the day, and of what had transpired just before he left Cascade. //How did this happen? When did I start thinking of him as more than just a friend? More than just my Guide? I'm not into guys...// His brain turned on itself. //What, you weren't 'into guys' for Micky Johnson? Or did you just conveniently forget him?// Jim opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Micky Johnson. His first lover, male or female. First and only male lover. //Micky was the only guy. And we were just kids.// //So, you can discount him because of that? You told him you loved him--he told you the same. And you weren't just kids, you were 18 years old. Old enough to know what you were doing.// //It was the same kind of love that every single high school student feels at some time. It was just what happened at the time.// //Cold, Ellison. 'just what happened'. That's why it hurt so bad when you found out he'd died, right? You loved him, admit it.// //Okay, and so what if I did? What's that got to do with right now, with Blair?// //Because if you could love Micky, you can love Blair.// He hadn't thought of Micky Johnson in 15 years--not since he'd died in a car crash. But he thought a lot about Blair...and how much he cared about him.
Blair stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil. He clutched the letter tightly to him. He'd read it so many times that it was worn around the edges.
Upset. Was he upset? That's what Jim had asked him. He just didn't know. It all went back to THAT NIGHT. Blair nearly laughed out loud, he was thinking in all capital letters now. What had happened was not at all what he expected. His surprise, though, hadn't masked his burgeoning desire.
He just didn't know how he was supposed to feel. Scratch that. He knew, but was afraid. Blair couldn't trust that what Jim had done was from his heart and not the bottle. His roommate had always dated women.
//Damn it, Jim,// Blair thought, //if only you hadn't been drunk that night. It would make it easier for me.//
Now, he read Jim's letter for the hundredth time, trying to read between the lines. What did Jim mean? 'I care about you.' Blair didn't need the letter to see the line in his mind. He'd memorized it.
The shrill whistle of the tea kettle snapped Blair out of his musings. Maybe THAT NIGHT had been all a mistake.
Blair shrugged off the feeling of depression that seemed to have descended upon him as he poured the hot water down the sink. He was no longer in the mood for tea.
//Might as well get those books for Jim.//
February 17, 1997
Jim,
Hey, man. How's it goin'? It's kinda boring without you here. Lonely. All I've got are my school books for company. After tearing up Cascade looking for bad guys, school just isn't as exciting as it used to be. I have you to thank for that, Big Guy.
So, they put you up in a real nice place? That's great. You're one of Cascade's finest, Jim. They'd better roll out the red carpet. You're special. They don't know what they've got...But, man, not having a phone really sucks. Keep the cell charged, you never know when you might need it. Sound like an old mother hen, don't I? I'm a Guide, that's my job.
Anyway, like I said, school's been occupying most of my time. Between grading papers and working on the thesis, I haven't had much time to think of anything. It's a good thing, too. I'd go crazy if I had to think. God, Jim. I don't know what to do. Sometimes, late at night, when my brain is supposed to be so exhausted that it can't function, I have these dreams.
It's all your fault, man. The night before you left...I, well, I liked it, Jim. I don't know what's going to happen now. To tell you the truth (yeah, I occasionally tell the truth), I'm scared. It's kinda new to me, too. I know we'll work it out, though. We work through everything else. There's nothing we can't handle, right?
In the meantime, I'll just have that toga party I've been meaning to throw. Just kidding, Big Guy. The loft is still the same way you left it. Well, sort of.
Watch yourself out there, Jim. Come back to Cascade--to me--in one piece.
Later,
Blair
P.S. Expect your books any day now. I put them in the post this morning. What are you doing reading "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"? Didn't think you were in to that sort of thing. Of course, you did have a thing for motorcycles in school, didn't you? But, Zen, Jim? That's more my bag than yours. You surprise me sometimes.
Feb. 21, 1997
Hi Blair:
Got the books. 'Zen and the Art..' Ha Ha. I have to admit, you made me a little nervous with that crack. I wondered for a day or so what I was actually getting in the mail. You know what they say about messing with Sentinels, don't you? And that crack about the toga party...!
Police activity aside, it's kind of boring here too. And if I'm being honest, which I swore I'd do when I started this...I'm lonely, too. I miss having someone around the house telling me bad jokes and getting in my hair. Seriously, Blair--you must have grown on me more than I realized. I walk in every evening, hoping (expecting?) to see you there. And I'm disappointed when I don't.
We made a bust a couple of days ago, but this one's small time. Chief Inspector Howard isn't very impressed with our progress. I guess he doesn't understand that these things sometimes take time. The kid they've chosen to work as the undercover--as Vice--reminds me a little of you--physically, anyway. Well, you a couple of years ago, anyway. Torn jeans, scruffy sneakers. Hair's pretty long, and he's got a couple of earrings (rumor is he has a few in spots no one can see...). That's where the resemblance ends though. This kid looks like a greasy punk...and he has about as much personality as a dishrag. Hey, I guess I just complimented you, didn't I? Must have been the breakfast I ate.
Which could very well be the case, since I'm eating my own cooking. I have *no* plan to look for anyone else to cook for me, here. Aside from the ethics involved in *that*...I have someone who cooks just fine home (my *real* home) and don't care to switch...
About...us. Don't be scared, Chief. You're right, we'll work it out--we've worked everything else out. I've had a couple of dreams, too. I have to tell you--God, this honesty thing is hard--not just dreams though. A couple of fantasies. God, this is hard. I've thought about you, Chief, while I bring myself off. Just once, actually, but I haven't come that hard since I was a teenager. I hope I don't regret telling you that.
I've given it a lot of thought (you know how boring stakeouts are...thinking is the only thing you have to do), and I have to say I care about you a lot. As more than just a friend, or partner, or guide. I think about the time we've spent together, and all that we've shared...and I can't get you out of my head. Every time I close my eyes you're there--nagging me, encouraging me...supporting me. And I think...This is really hard to say, Chief, not doing it face-to-face. I think I might be falling in love with you.
Well, this is a lot longer than I'd planned. I'll talk to you later.
Take care,
Jim
//Why did I tell him I was falling in love with him? Because it's true, stupid. I can't get him out of my thoughts...right now, I'm still thinking about him. This isn't right. It can't be.// His brain stopped dead at that thought. //What, you're a closet homophobe now? What happened to that famed open mind you profess to have? Why does it matter what gender Blair is? He's been there for you; helped out when you needed it; never backed down when things got tough... not to mention he's attractive...// Jim's thoughts slowed down slightly then, and his mind hurried to catch up with them. His emotions lagged behind. //What if it doesn't work? Then again, why wouldn't it? We already live together, and we share everything. How could it not work? No, I'm not a closet homophobe. Not an open one either. It's just...different. I'm a cop. Geez, that was lame. What does it all boil down to? I want him.//
Blair stumbled into the loft, his arms full of books, backpack, keys and the mail. He dumped everything on the floor, momentarily forgetting about the house rules. He thumbed eagerly through the mail, hoping that Jim had written back. Blair grinned and held up the anticipated letter.
He'd felt a little better about the whole thing after he'd written Jim back. Just putting his feelings down on paper and knowing Jim would understand made everything clearer. He even told Jim that there wasn't anything they couldn't handle.
Jim was so damned special. So kind, so gentle, so protective. Blair didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky. Sentinel thing aside, Blair had never expected to find what he was looking for in Jim.
Blair was so used to moving around so much that keeping friends was difficult. It was even harder with his lovers. And Blair had to admit, he had both men and women lovers in his past. But now that he'd found Jim, he didn't want to let go. He just hoped Jim felt the same way.
Jim's absence hit him full force. He really missed the Sentinel. He wanted to see Jim, to hear him, and if he were honest, to hold him.
Blair sighed as he tore open Jim's letter. Maybe he'd sleep upstairs tonight....
February 24, 1997
Jim,
Glad you got the books. Should give you something to do to pass the time. Although you thinking about us during those boring stakeouts does all sorts of things to me. It's a real nice feeling...
It's been pretty slow here. At least I think so. Simon calls every few days. I don't know why, but it is nice hearing from him. Says that crime in Cascade has slowed down to almost a trickle. He's pretty happy about that in his own gruff way. You know Simon, has to be yelling and complaining in order to be happy.
Congrats on the bust, man. I know you said it wasn't a major one, but you must be on to something. And, like you said, the sooner you solve this case the sooner you can get home. I would love it if you came home. I miss you something awful. I even miss your house rules. Don't worry, I haven't broken too many of 'em.
So, the kid from Vice reminds you of me, huh? Don't get too attached to him, you hear?! Thanks for the compliment, though. I know I have personality. I also have earrings in places no one's ever seen....You'll have to look for them yourself. You're a cop. I have every confidence in you to discover my secrets. Leave no stone unturned, no inch uncovered....
Don't mean to tease, man. I really miss talkin' to ya. Have they gotten you a phone, yet? I don't want to use the cell. It should be for emergency use only. It would really be nice to hear your voice, listen to your words. God, Jim, I really, really miss you.
I have a confession to make. Now, don't panic, the loft is in one piece. All right here it goes...I slept in your bed last night. I couldn't sleep, I missed you so much. Wrapped in your blankets, in your scent, your warmth....I felt safe, loved. Sounds corny, huh? I guess my feelings for you are no longer those simple friends have for one another. This is too heavy to be writing about in a letter. When are you coming home?
Well, you don't need some sappy letter to be reading during a stakeout, so I'll move on to something else. If I think about "us" too much, I won't be good to anyone at the U. Guess you know how that is, huh?
Anyway, I hope you're eating right. I've seen and eaten the stuff you've cooked. Man, maybe you should find a nice, healthy restaurant. I'm laughing over here, trying to imagine what you are doing to your poor body in Vancouver. Oh, God. Now, I'm thinking what I could be doing to that poor body....
See what you do to me, Jim? You really need to get home. Hurry up and solve that case. I need you here.
Well, have to wrap for now. Have to teach a class in ten minutes. Running late as usual...
Bye,
Blair
//He's sleeping in my bed. Oh, God...// His hand crept down to stroke the hardness that rose with that thought. //Body search. He's challenged me to body search him.// The hand began stroking faster, and his hips began moving in time. //I want to go to him so bad, I ache all over from it. I miss him, more than I ever thought I would or could miss a person. He's become a part of me...has ingrained himself so completely into me that it's hard to see where the lines are. I kissed him a month ago--sheer act of... of what? Of desire? Want? Need? Something I'll maybe never know? I want him...want to kiss him, touch him, hold him...stroke his body and make it...// His own body convulsed under his touch, and his essence spilled onto his stomach, hand and the sheets beneath him. //I need him like I need air to breathe. It doesn't matter that he's a guy, and I've only known one other guy in my life--and would've denied that until recently. He has become so deeply a part of me that I'm helpless against it. I have no control over this any longer...I've been swept away on the tide.//
Feb. 28, 1997
Blair:
I got your letter just before I left to go back to the station. (After lunch. The mail comes early during the week.) It was a welcome diversion. We made another bust yesterday, but it went down bad. Real bad. Jimmy Conor (the kid from Vice) got hurt--one of the dealers recognized him, or something, I still don't have all the details, there are so many of us working on this. Smells like a set-up to me, but who am I to say? Anyway, Conor is in the hospital, in critical condition. Shit, I hate when that happens. The guy they've got me partnered with is Conor's brother-in-law, and he's mad enough to bite iron and spit nails. He's also blaming the guys whose watch it happened on...as if you can affix blame in a situation like this. It's all leaving a bad taste in my mouth...
Sorry. You don't want to hear about all that, I'm sure. What *I* want to hear more about are these earrings in unseen places. How many are we talking? And where in God's name are they? Chief, please don't let me go around thinking you pierced your...??? I could probably live with a nipple ring, but even that... Are you serious, or just putting me on? As for teasing...well, let's say I enjoyed it a little, okay? I read that part about looking for it/them over and over, visualizing it as I did so...with predictable results. It doesn't take much these days to get a reaction out of my body...just a stray thought about you is about all I need. Jesus, I'm worse than a teenager.
You're right, this is too heavy to talk about in a letter. The thoughts of you in my bed...
I miss talking to you too, Chief. It's nice to know that someone still cares about me--don't worry, I am eating, and not all of it's junk food, either. Although I have to say you got me pretty spoiled...it's hard to look at Hormel Chili the same way after some of the stuff you've fixed. And while I'm thinking about it, where'd you learn how to cook like that anyway?
I'm glad Simon's checking in on you. I asked him to. I know, I know...it's just that you're associated with me now, not just through the police, but through the criminal network as well. By yourself you're a prime target for someone who has a serious beef with me. Guess I can do a little mother-henning myself, hmm?
Have to go, get back to work. I miss you too, Blair.
Love,
Jim
p.s. - the relaxation techniques you wrote down for me work pretty well...but I'm being very careful not to focus too much on any one sense. I had a brief zone out yesterday, but it wasn't a big deal, and Bradshaw (my partner) thought I was just a little spacey at that particular moment. Here's hoping it doesn't happen again.
J.
March 3, 1997
Hey Jim,
Damn it, Jim, you zoned out? What happened? Gee, I really hate it when I'm not there. Something could happen to you and where would that leave me? Please be careful, babe. You're causing grey hairs here...
I'm not going to go on about it anymore. I'll just end up worrying myself to death.
Sorry to hear about the bust, man. I know how you hate when a member of your team gets hurt. I remember how patient you were with Taggert when he was scared of defusing that bomb. Brackett really did a number on him.
Speaking of Taggert, he came by last night. Said he had a craving for my chili. Man really loves that ostrich meat. He can't stomach Hormel now, either. He's used to the good stuff. Simon called, too. He's got tickets to the Sonics game tomorrow night. Asked me if I wanted to go along. Brave man. Probably your fault, though. Gee, Jim, I *can* take care of myself. I don't need a babysitter. First Simon, then Taggert. How many people did you ask to look out for me? Am I going to have to stock up on beer in the fridge? Sorry, man, don't mean to vent. I know you do it because you care. Just wish you'd trust me a little. Give me some credit.
I'm not the one who needs looking after here, anyway. That's you. You're the one who zoned out. How can I do my job as a Guide if you're a whole country away? Man, this is just a really bad letter, isn't it? All I seem to be doing is getting mad at you. But, Jim, it's only because I'm worried and scared. Please hurry up and solve that case. I'll be your best friend in the whole world....
My best friend. Jim, I know it sounds like I'm joking, but that's what you are. I've travelled a lot and have lots of friends, but you're different. I can tell you anything, share myself with you. Hell, I trust you with my life. It's a little hard for me to say, Jim, but I trust you with my heart, too. You said in another letter that you thought you might be falling in love with me....Well, I think I feel the same way.
It hits me the hardest in the middle of the night when I'm tangled in your sheets (yeah, still sleeping in your bed. Don't mind, do you?). I hug your pillow, pretending it's you. I touch myself, but it's your hand I imagine... Oh God, Jim, I'm going crazy. I need you, man. I know things will work out, but how can we even start doing anything about this when you aren't even home?
There I go whining again. Maybe if it weren't two in the morning, this letter would make more sense. Or, at least, I wouldn't feel as if I were fighting with you. I'm just so frustrated, man.
I've gotta work on some grading, big guy. Promised my students I'd have their essays graded by tomorrow. Today, whatever. I am so looking forward to spring break. Just a couple more weeks. Maybe I can come up and visit. I sure miss you. But I guess you know that already.
Forever yours,
Blair
P.S. Saw an earring I liked yesterday. I may go back and buy it. See, there's this perfect place for it....I'll let you decide for yourself if I'm teasing or not. I, for one, can't wait!
March 7, 1997
Hi Blair:
God, I hope you're kidding about the earring. Please be kidding...
I'm being as careful as I can, Chief. I hate it too that you and I are apart like this, but I can't do much about it. I would have brought you along--you know that Simon had okayed it--but you're the one that had to stay behind for school purposes.
I'm sorry. That was way out of line, wasn't it? It's been a long day. Conor, the kid from Vice? He didn't make it. We went to the funeral today. God, babe, it was so hard to look at that coffin...he wasn't even as old you are, Chief. Dead at 22. My partner, Mark, is on leave of absence now--his wife, Conor's sister, is pretty torn up about the whole thing. I kept seeing that kid laying there, and thought about all the times you got hurt because of me. I couldn't stand it if something happened to you, Blair. Especially if it was because of your association with me.
Must be the day for depressing letters. Yours sounded angry, mine's morose. We're quite a pair, aren't we? I'm glad you're still sleeping in my bed. I think about you there, tangled up and sweaty, touching yourself, and I... Nevermind. I'm sure you get the picture.
I've had quite a wrestling match with my own thoughts over the last several weeks. My heart is determined to get me to see the way it thinks I should. Did you know that my first lover--ever-- was a guy? You're probably reeling in shock over that. Actually, he was my first, but also my first, last, only male lover. And that was 20 years ago. Who'm I justifying this to? Hard to say. Some thoughts take a lot longer to accept than others do. This must be one of them. I don't know, Chief. I want to love you...Actually, I do. I've fallen in love with you, and I never meant for it to happen, but it did. And now I don't know where to go from there. This is the damnedest thing...loving you, I mean. That something can be so paradoxical by nature: loving you makes me feel so good, and so confused all at the same time. And doing this by letter, long distance, isn't helping any, either. I want to see your face, and hear your voice when I talk to you. Oh well. Later, maybe.
You said you trust me with your heart. I trust you with mine. I guess, after that, the rest will probably be easy.
As far as Taggert and Simon go; I'll claim the responsibility for having Simon check on you every so often--I already admitted to that. Taggert? Not my doing. But if you fed him some of your chili...I can understand. Did you just hear that? That was my stomach growling at the thought. Hope you went to the game with Simon. He wouldn't have asked you if he didn't want to. Even Simon will only suffer for just so long if it's something he really didn't want to do.
Well, I need to get to bed. This has been a hell of a day, and it's not over yet. I still have some paperwork to do...and my thoughts of you to play over in my head. I miss you, Chief. I can't wait until I can see you again. You coming up for spring break is a good idea. See if Simon will let you borrow one of the unmarkeds though--I hate the thought of you coming up in the Corvair. It isn't reliable. No, better yet, rent a car. I'd have a hard time explaining to Simon why I wanted you to come up. He knows we're friends...until we have it all figured out, that's all he needs to know.
Sweet dreams, babe.
Love,
Jim
Blair lay in Jim's bed, comforted by the masculine smell of the Sentinel. He didn't know what possessed him to move to Jim's bed. Was he out of his mind? When Jim finally came home, he'd have to move back downstairs. Could he do it? It felt so right, somehow, for him to be sleeping in these sheets. Blair sighed and curled up around Jim's pillows. He'd enjoy it as long as he could.
Blair closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but it was emblazoned in his mind. The L-word. Jim had used the L-word in his last letter. If Blair were honest with himself, he would say he'd thought about the L-word, too. It scared him, though. Hell, he couldn't even bring himself to say the whole word to himself. What did that mean? Blair knew. He was afraid that if he said it, embraced it, he'd wake up and find it was all a dream. He didn't know if he could handle that. It really freaked him out that such a little word had so much power over him. Oh, who was he kidding? It wasn't the word, it was the man...The man who embodied the feeling.
"Oh, God help me, Jim," Blair moaned out loud. "I'll be dreaming of you tonight..."
March 10, 1997
Jim,
Just got your latest letter. Man, why do you do this to me? I've been sitting here in your favorite chair for almost an hour just staring at the words you've written, trying to absorb them. It's so hard to tell you what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling. For once, I can't seem to express myself very well. I'm going to try, anyway.
You called your feelings for me paradoxical, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say to that. All I know, Jim, is that for me, you are the nectar of the gods. Too much, though, and I'll fall down Mount Olympus. Hell, I've already fallen...I think about you all the time. I had egg foo yung today. I had it for breakfast. I guess you'd call it a craving. It didn't satisfy my hunger, though....
Man, I'm sorry about that kid from Vice. That's the part of your job I really hate. The senseless death. I still have nightmares about that girl--Lash's first victim. The first dead body I've ever seen. Murdered, anyway. I can just imagine what you're feeling. Wish I were there to ease your troubles, to hold you.
As for me ever leaving you, man, don't even think it. Guides are around forever. Just trying to lighten the mood of this letter a bit. Our correspondence has become a bit...intense.
Honestly, Jim, I know you worry about me. But I chose to be with you, to help you. When I took that responsibility on, I accepted the danger. Don't get me wrong, I'm not ready to die. I have so much to live for. I've got you, babe (Damn! You've got me quoting Sonny and Cher lyrics. That has gotta mean something). You just can't protect me all of the time. It's just not possible, even for my blessed protector. So don't go thinking about it too much. I know you, big guy. I never told you this, but I remember you talkin' to me when I was in the hospital. After I'd been drugged. You were so torn up about what had happened. Kept blaming yourself. I wanted to reach out to you, tell you it was all right, but I couldn't function. Then, later, we just put it behind us. I'm really sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to cause you so much grief.
I really hate when I get like this.
Simon and I had a good time at the game, by the way. Sonics won by four points and two overtimes. It was pretty close. Simon proved to me that he can be fun to be with. Just wish you hadn't ask him to babysit. Glad to hear Taggert was only here for my chili and not at my roommate's request. He really did like it. Should have seen him gulp it down. Taggert's a good guy.
Jim, I just have to ask. Were you really with a man before? I can't believe it. I mean, you were married to Carolyn and we've chased women together. I even thought you and Margaret hit it off really well. Maybe you should think this through, be sure about your feelings. I wouldn't want you to get hurt. You mean too much for me for that.
As for me, one minute I'm so happy it feels like I'm wrapped up in sunshine. The next, I'm so scared and uncertain that it feels like I'm in some dark, bottomless pit. I just don't want to lose what we already have on some drunken encounter. Please think about this.
See, I'm so emotionally twisted that my letter doesn't even sound coherent. I'm sorry I moved from one thing to another so erratically. It's just the way I'm feeling right now. One minute I have the courage to accept what would be the greatest most moving experience of my life but then I don't even want to think about it. Is this making any sense? I know I sound stupid.
I just need you to come home. When you're here, I can handle anything. Everything falls into place when I'm with you.
Please forgive me, Jim, but if I weren't honest with you, none of this would mean anything.
Oh man, phone's ringing, gotta answer it. Could be important. Maybe it's you...
Chief
P.S. I'll see about renting a car and taking a drive up for spring break. But, man, I know the Corvair would make it. I could save the cash I would have spent on the rental and we could really do Vancouver.
Jim reread Blair's latest letter, and thought about what needed to be done. //I can't stand this any longer... Thoughts of him in my bed are going to drive me crazy. I can just imagine him, laying there, naked, touching himself...like I'm doing now...thinking about me as I think about him... I'm going to go home next weekend. We need to get things figured out now, before I lose what remains of my sanity.//
Friday evening
He clenched his hands on the steering wheel, trying to dampen his excitement down to a manageable level. Only a few more miles. Would Blair be happy to see him? His letters made it sound like he would. Jim had had to wheel and deal to get this weekend off, and in the end he'd lied a little: His roommate had some problems come up with the loft, and needed him home for the weekend to get them taken care of. He still needed to be back to work late Sunday night--his turn to case the apartment of one of their suspected drug dealers--so that meant he'd have to leave fairly early Sunday, but that was okay. They would have this evening, and all day tomorrow together to see what progress they had made toward a different relationship. Thoughts of Blair sleeping in his bed, tangled in the sheets drifted through Jim's head, and he took a deep breath. Oh, God. There was the parking garage, looming ahead.
Blair shifted on the couch, and drew his feet up under him. It was still a little chilly in here, in spite of the fire. A quick glance out the patio windows told him he should start thinking about supper, but he wasn't really hungry. //Must have been the late lunch.// He didn't want to keep grading papers, either. What he really wanted to do was see Jim again...touch him, hold him, kiss him. Unencumbered by the fears and thoughts they'd both had last time; unencumbered by the knowledge that even if Jim had wanted it, he wasn't in control of himself at the time. Blair shook his head, and bent to the task at hand. Daydreaming wasn't going to get the papers graded. He jerked his head up suddenly when the sound of a key turning in the lock grated across the stillness. Only one other person had a key to that door...
And then he was there, larger than life--better than dreams--and Blair found he couldn't move. He'd been wanting, wishing, hoping that Jim would come home ever since this crazy thing had begun, and here he was...and he sat like a bump on a log.
"Hey, Chief." Jim stood with his back against the door, looking a little uncertain.
"Hey, Jim." Blair got off the couch, unmindful of the papers he scattered, and walked over to the bigger man. He stood in front of Jim for just a moment, then murmured, "You're here. Man, I can't believe you're here." Then he reached out, and wrapped his arms around Jim's waist, and hugged him to him. He hugged him with all the pent-up emotion he'd been feeling for the last five weeks; felt the hard, strong body shake under his embrace. "Oh God, I'm dreaming, right? There's no way you're here, man. It's too good to be true."
Jim shook his head, and returned the smaller man's embrace, holding the compact body as close to his as he could bring it. "No, it's real, all right. A dream wouldn't feel this good." He pulled himself back slightly, and gazed down at his friend. Blair's lips parted slightly, as though in invitation, and Jim accepted. He leaned down and gently brushed Blair's lips with his own, deepening the kiss when Blair didn't move away. They held the embrace for a long moment, only the tips of their tongues touching--tasting, feeling. Then Jim pulled back from Blair. "You and I have a lot to talk about, Chief. Mind if I stay the weekend?" He smiled at Blair, who shook his head.
"As if I would." Blair shook his head again. "How'd you manage to get home? Oh, you hungry? I can fix us something."
"That would be great, Chief. I'm starved. As for how, well...I obfuscated. Got anything to drink in here?"
"Beer in the fridge...juice, water...whatever. Same stuff. You obfuscated..." Blair grinned in delight. "About what?"
Jim headed for the refrigerator. "Told the Chief Inspector that my roommate was having some problems with the loft, and needed my help." Blair followed Jim into the kitchen, eying him critically. "Not a total lie. You've lost weight."
"Some. So?"
"So? I thought you were eating okay. You said you were."
"I am eating okay." Jim took a beer from the refrigerator, uncapped it and downed half in one big gulp, then continued, "Oh, yeah...that's good. I'm eating okay, just not great. Plus there's stress...tension...missing you." He added the last quietly, and was gratified to see Blair's color deepen slightly.
"I miss you too. More than I ever thought I would." Blair used the same quiet tone, then mentally shook himself. "What do you want for dinner?"
"What do you want?"
"I'm not that hungry...had a late lunch." Blair began rummaging in the fridge, shifting tupperware around. Jim noticed with some amusement that it was all the same color--apparently some of his 'housebreaking' had taken effect, over the last year. "I have some leftover turkey...want enchiladas?"
//What I want is to take you in my arms, hold you tight, never let you go...// "Yeah, that'd be great. Can I do anything?"
"Stay out of my way..." Blair looked up and grinned at him. //You could touch me...taste me...hold me until I beg you to stay here forever...// "You could set the table."
"Done." Jim grabbed plates and cutlery from the cupboards, then headed back into the main room. "How's school?"
"School's fine. Spring break is in two weeks...it'll be nice to have the time off. You really serious about me coming up?"
"Hell yes, I'm serious. And I'll pay for the rental car. You save your money, you can take me out for dinner on the town."
"Done. But I'd kind of figured you'd want me to cook..." Blair grinned again. "Plus, I've been working on some new tests..."
Jim groaned. "No can do, Chief. I'll still be working, even if you're on vacation."
"There's always off-duty time." Blair didn't realize until he'd said them how suggestive the words sounded.
"Yes, there is. But we may have other things to do then, too."
//So, Jim did pick up on it...// "We might, hmm?"
"Maybe." //If I have any say in the matter...//
They didn't say anything else for a while after that, just enjoyed the silent pleasure of knowing they were in each other's company. Blair quickly threw the enchiladas together, keeping spice at a minimum, out of deference to Jim's heightened sense of taste. He put the pan in the oven, and walked into the main room, took a seat on the couch. "Ten minutes until it's ready."
Jim turned away from the windows he'd been gazing out of. He'd missed the view from this place. "Sounds good." His eyes swept over Blair, assessing him closely for the first time since he'd walked in the door. "You look like you've lost some weight, too. What's with you, Chief? You're the one who can cook."
"Yeah, well, I'm also the one who's been freakin' about how you're doin', man. Have you had anymore zone-outs?" Blair tried to calm the manic quality to his voice, tone it down a little.
"No, just that one." Jim moved over to the couch and took the seat next to Blair. "It was just once, just a little one."
"It only takes once to get yourself killed, man. I worry about you, is all. No way can your partner up there know what to look for. So cut me some slack, okay?" Blair was surprised to hear anger mixed in with the concern in his voice. Apparently, Jim was too.
"I'm sorry, Chief. I shouldn't joke about it. I was just trying to lighten things up a little. Otherwise..." His voice trailed off as Blair turned to face him and those beautiful smokey-blue eyes reached out and drew him in.
"Otherwise, what?" Blair watched Jim's pupils dilate, and felt his breath catch in his throat.
"Otherwise, I might want to do this..." Jim cupped Blair's face in his hands, cradled it there gently before lowering his mouth to touch Blair's. He pulled away after the briefest of kisses. "Or this," he touched the tip of his tongue to Blair's mouth and traced the outline of Blair's full bottom lip; "Or this..." He nipped gentle kisses along Blair's jawbone, moving toward his ear. When he reached Blair's ear he rimmed the inside wetly with his tongue, then whispered, "Or this..." He moved back to claim Blair's mouth in a deep, hot kiss that left them both shaking when Jim finally pulled away.
He contemplated Blair for a moment; ran his thumb across those lips...felt his body throb in response. //This is either going to be my salvation...or it's going to kill me.//
"Oh..." Blair sat there staring at him, questions looming in those large eyes before a smile spread across his face. "Well don't let me keep you from doing something you want to do..." He shook his head in mock chagrin. "You have an effect on me, man. I feel drunk just looking at you." The timer beeping on the oven caught his attention then. "Time to rescue dinner." Blair stood up and stretched a hand out to Jim. "Come on, big guy."
Jim considered the hand for a moment, then stretched his own out, clasping Blair's within it. Their fingers tightened around each other for a brief moment, then Jim pushed off the couch.
Jim grabbed a couple beers from the fridge while Blair pulled the enchiladas out of the oven. The smell when he removed the foil from the pan was enough to make Jim's mouth water, and he felt his body relax a little from its aroused state as it began to focus on more basic urges. //Of course, what's more basic an urge than that of wanting your mate?// That drew him up short. Sandburg? His mate? //Well, Duh, stupid. Where has this been leading, hmm?// He shook his head to clear it, wishing he could shut up the voices that were talking there. Talk about angel on one side, devil on the other!
"Here, I figure beer goes better with these than wine would." Jim handed Blair one of the bottles and sat down across from him.
"Yeah, you're right. Welcome home, man." Blair raised his bottle, and Jim clinked his against it.
"Thanks. It's good to be back."
They worked side-by-side to clean up the dishes from dinner. Even though nothing appeared to have changed, everything had. Every time their fingers touched, passing a dish, sparks flew along two sets of nerve endings. Blair thought that he would end up dropping a dish before the evening was out, but fortunately his fears were unfounded.
He picked up the papers he'd scattered when Jim had walked through the door--was it only a couple hours ago?--and stacked them neatly on the desk in his room. While he was busy doing that, Jim built the fire back up and turned on some music. When Blair walked back out into the living room, it was dim and... romantic. Seductive. He crossed his arms over each other, and walked over to where Jim was sitting on the couch. He took a seat opposite Jim, on the other couch, and watched him for a moment.
"We need to talk about this, Chief." Jim's voice was low, husky; it sang with unspoken emotion.
"Yes, we do." Blair shivered when he looked into Jim's eyes. There was blatant arousal smoldering there, but there was something else. Something like love. "Where do you want to start?"
"I'd like to start with you sitting over here with me." Jim shifted slightly, and patted the cushion next to him. "Please."
"I don't know...I want to be able to think for this." Blair hesitated, torn. He wanted nothing more than to sit next to Jim, feel the heat rising from him... But he wanted to be able to follow the conversation too--and wasn't certain the two were compatible. Jim's eyes held his, and with a sigh Blair stood up and moved over to sit next to Jim. He shuddered when he felt the other man's arm come around him. "Jim...I'm gonna have trouble thinking coherently, man."
"Maybe I don't want you coherent."
Blair looked into those clear eyes again--clear, but for the emotions clouding them. "Are you trying to seduce me?"
"Do I need to? Try, I mean?" The raw quality to Jim's voice started liquid fire flowing through Blair's veins.
"No." Low-pitched, hoarse. Jim felt the resonance spread through him, warming him. Blair's gaze remained steady, locked with his. "You seduced me, with words, a long time ago, man."
"And now?"
"And now I want more. You said you thought you were falling in love with me. I feel that way too. But if we take that last step, man, there's no turning back. Are we ready to do that?"
"What do you mean 'last step', Chief?"
"Physical intimacy."
"I'd say we've already begun that part, Blair. The first time I kissed you." //Holding you makes me aware that I could never go back. Just having you in my arms changes everything.// "We've gone too far, babe. We're at the stage where back is no longer an option...we can only go forward."
"I know." Blair whispered his reply. "And it scares me...I don't want to lose you." Jim had to turn his hearing up to catch the barely whispered words.
"You won't, Chief. You're too much a part of me--I could just as easily cut off my arm as lose you." Jim shifted some on the couch, then told Blair, "Stand up for a minute." He did, and Jim moved so that he was leaning back against the armrest. "C'mere, Chief." He gently tugged on Blair's arm until the younger man was sitting in between Jim's legs, leaning back against his chest. Jim could feel the tremors running through Blair when he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back, drawing him into an embrace. Jim leaned down and whispered in Blair's ear, "It might have started because I had too much to drink; I'll admit I probably wouldn't have had the courage to kiss you, stone sober- -Then. But now... babe, you're what makes me whole, complete. I won't let you go." He rested his chin on the top of Blair's head, and then just sat there, holding him.
//I could sit here until I die. He feels so good against me...I've dreamed about these arms holding me for so long...// Blair gave up trying to hold in the sigh of contentment that burst forth. He felt safe, secure, and loved.
//I could sit here and breathe in the scent of him for the rest of the night. It's intoxicating...I want to wrap myself up in him, and never let go.// Jim changed the position of his head, and brushed a kiss across the top of Blair's.
//I don't ever want to lose this. He means too much to me...I love him too much. Could he really mean what he said? Am I that much a part of him now?//
//I'm not going to let go of him. He's got to see how much I love him...how much I need him. I've become dependent on him for so much more than just a guide...he's a thread that runs through every piece of my life now.//
"Jim?"
"Mmhm?"
"Did you mean what you told me? Your first lover was a guy?"
Jim sighed. "Yeah--I hadn't thought about it in so long I was able to convince myself it hadn't happened. We were both young-- only 18--and it started out just as a way to relieve sexual tension. You know what it's like to be 18..."
Blair laughed. "Yeah--you walk around feeling like you're a giant penis with legs...one raging hormone."
"Yep. And neither Micky--that was his name--nor I were very good at picking up girls...so we thought we'd just try on each other until we got better. We didn't plan on it feeling so good. Seemed like the more time we spent together, the more time we wanted to spend together. We worked our way up from just jerking off in front of each other, to jerking each other off, to full- blown sex. That blew me away. I was his first too--guy, I mean. I don't know about girls. He never seemed as attracted to them as I was. I don't know, it was so long ago." Jim fell silent then, and Blair sat quietly, suspecting he wasn't finished. He twined their fingers together, and felt Jim squeeze his hand. He returned the pressure, and smiled when Jim began speaking again. "I told him I loved him, Chief. I don't give my heart away lightly; then or now. He said the same thing--and I like to think it was true. But then I decided to go into the military, and you know what their policy is. And it's a lot more liberal today than it was 20 years ago. I only saw him one more time after that--at his funeral."
"His funeral? He's dead?"
"He died about five years after that--car wreck, he was hit by a drunk driver. I tried to put it out of my mind after that, and obviously did a good job. I did love him though. I just wasn't mature enough to handle a love that society views as different."
"And now?" //Please don't say that you couldn't handle it now, please.//
"Now is different. I've learned over the years that I don't give a damn about what other people think about me. And you...you just kind of snuck in, Blair. I still don't know how or why-- maybe there's some connection between Sentinel and Guide?--but I know how I feel about you. I need you in my life; you're as important to me as anything else that keeps me alive."
"Oh, man...Jim...that's pretty heavy."
"I told you we needed to discuss this." Jim tightened his arms around Blair. "Do you need to move?"
"No, I'm fine." If anything, Blair snuggled a little closer at that. Jim found himself thinking about crime scenes in order to control his body's reaction to Blair's nearness. "I know I care a lot about you, Jim. You've come to mean so much more to me than anything I ever imagined. As far as guys go...I've been with a few, but nothing that ever lasted. It was more like a dating thing--we just never got close enough to say 'I love you'. Blair tipped his head back against Jim's chest, and found Jim's eyes. They were so clear, so deep...he could get lost in them. He sighed. "I guess I'm telling you that I'm not against a relationship with another man; I've just never pursued one. Never found a guy I wanted to be with badly enough to lure me away from the women who always seemed to be around. Until you." Blair turned in Jim's embrace, until he was kneeling on the couch, in front of Jim. "You seem to have snuck in when I wasn't looking, too. I was only looking for a research subject. Instead I've found..." He paused, and licked his lips. "Instead I've found love. I found you." He held Jim's eyes with his, and leaned in slowly, bringing his hands around to hold Jim's head. They kissed, a brief pressing of lips against lips; pulled back and did it again. Over and over, tasting just the surface, brushing quiet, teasing kisses against each other's lips.
Jim sighed when Blair sat back on his knees. "You're something, Chief. Thought you couldn't sit by me and concentrate."
Blair laughed, the sound a little shaky. "I guess it depends on what I'm trying to concentrate on. Maybe I'm multi-talented. Boy...someone should put a warning out about you."
"Yeah? Well, ditto for you, partner." Jim reached up to stroke his thumb across Blair's lips, and felt a gentle nip. "Oh, yeah? Put your money where your mouth is, Sandburg."
"Oh, no, man. No *way* are we going to start that now."
Jim raised his eyebrows. "Start what, Chief?"
"As if you didn't know."
"Well, as it turns out, in defense of your virtue, I'm tired. What say we go to bed, and resume this in the morning?"
Blair shifted off of the couch. "Okay. Just give me a minute to get my stuff out of your room--I kind of temporarily moved in up there."
Jim placed a staying hand on his arm. "No...I mean *let's* go to bed."
Blair felt his heart turn over in his chest. "You mean sleep with you."
Jim nodded. "Just sleep, Chief. I'm too tired to do much else." He paused. "But I want you in bed with me, holding on to me."
"O-okay." Blair gestured toward the stairs. "Age before beauty."
Jim snorted. "In your dreams, Sandburg."
They ascended the stairs together, shadowing the other's movements. Blair pressed his hand against the small of Jim's back, gently guiding; needing to feel him. Jim reached back and brushed Blair's other hand with his fingertips, wanting the contact. Jim stopped at the top of the steps and stood there for a minute; the air up here smelled of Blair - of Blair's essence - and he took several deep lungfuls of air, memorizing the scent. He let his breath out in a shuddering gasp, surprised at the effect it was having on his body. Blair misinterpreted, and headed for the bed, muttering, "I didn't change the sheets, 'cause I wasn't expecting you..."
"No, leave them. It's..." Jim trailed off, unsure of what to say. "It's okay, Chief. Really." He shifted uncomfortably. He really did just want to go to sleep, holding Blair in his arms. His body seemed to have other ideas though. He was already half- erect.
Blair was watching him, and noted the sudden changes in Jim's manner, if not the cause for them. "Problems?"
"Shouldn't be...I just want to hold you..."
Blair snickered. "And your head--the *other* one--is having other thoughts, isn't it?"
Jim grinned ruefully. "Looks that way. What should we do about it?"
Blair walked back toward him. "That depends on you, man. You're the one who's complaining he's tired. What do you want to do about it?"
"Well...if I recall, you challenged me to body search you." Jim felt his temperature rise just thinking about it. He could hear Blair's heartrate and breathing increase. "Challenge still stand?"
"Are you up to it?"
"I guess I'm not as tired as I thought. Are *you* up to it?"
"Oh, yeah..." Blair breathed out.
"Well, come over here then." Jim sat himself down on the side of the bed and pulled Blair in between his legs. He started his 'search' by running his fingers through Blair's hair, enjoying the softness and silky texture against his fingertips. He cupped Blair's face and brought it down to his, and kissed him softly, gently. Blair raised his arms to grasp Jim's shoulders for support, then parted his lips, and allowed Jim's tongue entrance. Jim stroked his tongue across Blair's, felt their simultaneous shudders as wet velvet stroked wet velvet. He moved on to suck on Blair's lower lip, enjoyed the contrast of textures. He left Blair's mouth then, and began nipping his way down Blair's neck. The skin was so soft here...and it tasted like...like sweat, and soap, and arousal...and an underlying taste that he defined simply as 'Sandburg'. Blair moaned and turned his head, giving Jim better access, and Jim bit down on the tender skin, then sucked hard on it, causing Blair to groan. "No evidence of body piercing here..." Jim muttered as he sucked the lobe of Blair's right ear into his mouth. "I'll just have to keep looking..."
"You do that," Blair gasped as Jim licked down his throat, swirling his tongue around Blair's adams apple. "I'm not giving up my secrets easily, man. You're gonna have to work for your information."
Jim smiled against Blair's skin, and pulled the younger man's T- shirt off over his head. The bare expanse of skin that greeted him was breathtaking. Dusky rosy-brown nipples and areolas, already tightening in response to the chill of the air. All half-buried in a thick mat of dark hair that looked like it would be softer than down to the touch. Jim stroked his hands down Blair's chest, brushing his fingertips across the flat nipples. Blair shivered and swayed in toward Jim. "Mmm...that feels so good, Jim..."
"I don't see any evidence of piercing here, either, Chief. Could it be you were trying to lead this detective astray?" Jim combed his fingers through the downy-soft hair, and continued to tease at Blair's nipples. He pinched them gently, and felt another shiver run through Blair.
"Oh...o-oh, yeah...man, that's way too intense... I'd never lead you astray, Jim...b-better keep lookin'..." Blair gasped as Jim leaned down and tongued one of the hard little points. "Yeah..." He ran his fingers through Jim's close-cropped hair, and pulled Jim's head closer to him.
"Sensitive spot for you, Chief?" Jim asked before running his tongue across the other nipple. Blair moaned his reply. Jim shifted back and forth then, alternating between feathery touches with his fingertips, and gentle sucking motions; throwing in the occasional sharp nip with a swirling tongue to soothe the sting. Jim continued his descent downward, running his tongue across the bare ribs, then down further, following the pattern of hair that trailed past Blair's navel, and disappeared into his jeans.
Jim sat back slightly then, and looked up at Blair. His guide had his head back, eyes closed. His skin looked flushed and warm, and his lips were swollen. He looked absolutely edible. Jim returned to Blair's nipples, sucking and licking, while his fingers got busy undoing the buttons on Blair's jeans. The younger man groaned as Jim released his fully-erect cock from the confines of his clothes. "I want to taste all of you, babe..." Jim spoke quietly, his voice rough with arousal.
"Yesss... Please, Jim. Please." Blair looked down and watched Jim take him into his mouth...then he lost track of coherent thought as the hot and wet of Jim's mouth, combined with his tongue, overloaded his senses.
Jim worked Blair's cock, alternating between sucking and licking, until he felt the younger man's body beginning to tense. He drew back, eliciting a tortured moan from Blair. "Just a minute, babe. You're almost there--I want to go with you." Jim stood and quickly shed his clothes, then tumbled the two of them together onto the bed. He turned to face Blair, pulled him to him, and began stroking his erection. Blair moaned and pushed his hips against Jim's hand. "Kiss me, Blair," Jim whispered as he reached down for his own erection. Blair fastened his mouth onto Jim's, devouring him with lips and tongue, mimicking with his tongue the motion his hips were making. He stretched slightly to pull himself closer to Jim, and ran his hands across the broad hard chest. Jim groaned as Blair's fingers brushed his nipples, and he found his own hips bucking helplessly. Blair gave a deep groan and thrust hard against Jim's hand, and Jim felt the warm sticky fluid sliding across his skin. Jim felt another hand wrap around his cock, and had just a second to prepare before he exploded into his--and Blair's--hands.
Blair pushed Jim onto his back, and draped himself slightly over him. He kissed Jim's lips gently, and licked an outline around his mouth, returning to kiss him once again. "That was...wonderful, Jim. Intense. Thank you."
"I think I should be thanking you, Chief. God, but you felt good." Jim looked up into his lover's eyes. "I didn't find any earrings--other than ones you always wear."
"I guess maybe I was teasing a little..." Blair grinned. "You're *way* too easy to push buttons on, man. A vanilla-kind of guy all the way."
"Yeah, you're probably right." Jim was silent for a minute. "Blair?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you." Jim rolled Blair onto his side and spooned up behind him.
"I love you too, Jim." Blair turned his head back toward Jim slightly, and Jim leaned down to nuzzle his neck. Blair kissed Jim then, a gentle kiss, devoid of passion. "'Night, Jim."
"'Night, Chief."
Feeling safe and secure, not to mention loved, for the first time in weeks, Blair closed his eyes and fell asleep. Jim followed right behind him.
Saturday
Jim groaned and rolled over, coming half awake as the sunlight poured in through unshuttered windows. Where was he? The smells were all wrong. Or rather, they were right...so he must be dreaming... No, he'd come home yesterday. He was in his own bed, with Blair wrapped around him. Blair. Oh, yeah! He glanced down to see Blair's head snuggled into the hollow between his ribs and his arm, his hair spread across his chest, one arm casually thrown across him, a leg crooked over one of his. It was the most intense thing he'd ever looked at. Not to mention the most beautiful. Jim eased one of his hands down, and wove his fingers through Blair's hair. He didn't want to wake him up, but he had to touch him... He just had to.
At the light touch in his hair Blair shuddered and stretched, beginning the waking-up process himself. His body was contacting something large, warm and solid. He cracked his eyes open to see Jim watching him, a wide smile on his face. //So, last night wasn't just a great wet dream, after all.// Blair felt an answering grin spread across his face, and he scooted up to kiss Jim. "Morning, lover," was all he managed before giving in to the temptation to taste Jim more deeply.
Jim just grunted slightly, opening his mouth to receive Blair's kiss. They kissed for several minutes, long wet kisses, tongues sliding across each other, lips nipping at the other's. Jim pulled back first, panting. "Morning, yourself, Chief. Mmmm...nice." Blair had licked around to his ear, and was playing with his lobe. He shivered when the younger man blew a jet of air across it, and tangled his hand further into Blair's hair. "Hungry?"
"Starved," came the muffled reply. Then Blair sat up and grinned at him. "I could probably eat, too." He yelped then as Jim reached out and ran his fingers down his sides, tickling him. "Hey, no fair, man! You're not ticklish! S-s-stop...th-that!" Blair was laughing so hard that it was easy to flip him onto his back and pin him. Jim held his wrists, and straddled him, rubbing their erections together. "Oh, God, Jim...oh, man..." Blair moaned as their hot flesh contacted, sending shock waves of sensation outward. He thrust his hips upward, rubbing frantically against Jim.
Jim thrust back, and lowered his head; not to kiss Blair, but to nip at his neck. Blair moaned as Jim bit down, increasing the pressure slightly with each bite.
"Oh yeah, lover..." Blair panted. "Keep going..."
"Like being mauled, huh?" Jim queried hoarsely, biting along Blair's shoulder. Blair moaned his assent in a rough voice.
Jim fell into a pattern all along Blair's neck: a gentle kiss to the selected spot, then a sharp bite followed by suction. Blair seemed to be enjoying it, rubbing himself harder and harder against Jim, not struggling against having his hands held back. Jim released those hands though when it occurred to him (in that small portion of his brain that could still reason) it might be more fun to have Blair's hands loose. This was borne out immediately when Blair began playing with his nipples. Jim felt his cock surge with the added stimulation, and could feel his hips beginning to jerk out of his control. He pushed Blair's head to one side, and bit down sharply--harder than he had yet. Blair gave a deep groan, shoved his pelvis against Jim's and came in hot spurts. The feeling of the warm sticky fluid hitting him spurred Jim on, and he bit Blair once again, growling, "You're mine", and came all over both of them.
They fell asleep once more in a tangle of arms and legs, and woke when the sun was high in the sky. Blair stumbled downstairs to put coffee on, and Jim headed for the shower.
Blair set the coffee to brew, and headed for the bathroom, and the sound of running water. He slipped into the warm steamy room, and drew the curtain aside slightly. "Mind if I join you?"
"No--come on in."
The water ran cold before they emerged; satiated for the moment, and clean, although chilled.
Dressed in clean clothes--although Blair had argued against them, saying clothes would waste precious time--both men headed back toward the kitchen. Jim got his first good look at Blair's neck when the other man pulled his hair back and fixed it into a ponytail. He choked on his coffee. "Jesus, Blair!"
"What?" Blair looked down at himself, confused. "What's wrong, Jim?"
"God, you know I was kidding when I made that crack about mauling you. Have you seen yourself? Seen what I *did* to you? Why'd you let me bite you like that?" Jim couldn't seem to stop the tirade of words. He was surprised he hadn't noticed the bites before now.
"Ah." Blair fingered his neck, and smiled. "First of all, yes, I've seen them. Second, if I'd have minded, I would have stopped you. Do you remember what you said when you did this one?" Blair's fingers rubbed over a fair-sized mark at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Jim shook his head mutely. "You said I was yours. You marked me, Jim. I'm proud to wear that mark. And," Blair smiled mysteriously, "I plan to do some marking of my own."
Jim grinned, but shook his head. "Let's just try to take this easy, okay, Chief? I've never been rough before--"
"You weren't rough, babe. Nothing I couldn't handle, or didn't want. Just relax, okay, man? It's been a while for you, right? With a guy, I mean. Things are different--we can be a little rougher, without it actually being rough. Relax."
Jim headed for the living area, and sank down onto the couch. "Relax. Sure, no problem."
Blair followed him, but veered off, and draped himself over and around Jim from the rear. He whispered in Jim's ear as he licked it gently, "Try, Jim. I'm a little weirded out by all of this, too, man. It's going to take time some time to get used to it."
Jim reached one arm around, and half-pulled Blair to him, catching his mouth in a deep kiss. "I love you, Blair," He gasped when he released him. "God, I love you. Thanks for reminding me--how new we are to this."
Blair slid around the couch and sat down next to him. "I love you too, man. It'll take time. Just go with the flow."
They spent the rest of the day just relaxing, both aware of Jim's imminent departure. No matter how new their changed relationship, or how much they were enjoying the discoveries that went with it, it was temporary--for now.
The day passed with them alternating one laying on the couch, with the other sitting on the floor next to them, or snuggled together on the bed. They talked alot--about everything, and nothing, and occasionally themselves. Jim spent a lot of time kissing Blair, trying to commit him to memory through taste and touch--the scent he already knew well. Blair did the same, although his sensory perception wasn't as good as Jim's; he also added sound, enjoying the groans that he could pull from Jim when he sucked on his neck. Not once did either man suggest anything more than kissing, touching, cuddling or foreplay; the heavier aspects of sex would have to wait until they'd had a little more time to explore this newest side of their relationship, as well as a little more *time*, period. It was, Jim decided later, the most exquisite form of torture: to hold back on something they wanted so bad, knowing it would only be better for waiting.
Saturday wound down into Saturday night, and with it came the beginnings of apprehension. Not for themselves, or what they'd begun to build; rather for the fact that they would be separated. Although the feelings themselves were new, and fragile, the dynamic was not; they had been friends and partners for a long time--it was just that separation at this point felt physically painful, as they were striving to discover physical closeness.
They elected only to cuddle that night, and fell asleep twined in each other's arms; words of love whispered between them hung in the air like a charm, keeping them safe as they slept.
Sunday Morning
Jim gazed lovingly at his sleeping partner. He'd been doing that for the last few minutes. Daylight was already peeking through the windows and he would have to leave soon.
Jim pulled Blair closer to him, wrapping strong, solid arms around the smaller man. //Just a few more minutes,// he thought and closed his eyes. He nestled his face in Blair's curls and whispered, "I don't want to leave you."
Eyes still closed, Blair murmured back, "I don't want you to leave either."
No more words were spoken as they held each other for a long time.
Blair glanced out the living room windows as he spooned eggs onto two plates. It was the second week of March and it should have been beautiful outside. Instead, the wind thrashed the trees like discarded clothes on a clothesline. The sky itself darkened, ominously.
//Perfect,// Blair thought sarcastically to himself, //Jim has to drive back in this.// He sighed. //It sure fits my mood, though.//
Blair turned as he heard the Sentinel's tread upon the stairs. Blair's breath caught in his throat. Jim was rugged, virile, and...to die for.
//He's all mine,// Blair smiled.
"Why the grin, Chief?" Jim asked, tossing down his duffel and taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Glad to see me off?"
Blair's smile faded and a note of anger rang through his voice. "That's not even funny, man."
Jim held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I was just teasing." Jim lifted his fork and took a few bites of his eggs, all the while waiting for Blair to sit.
Blair didn't say anything for a few long minutes. He heaved a frustrated sigh and yanked his plate of eggs from the table. Jim watched in amazement as Blair dumped his eggs in the sink in one swift movement.
"What-" Jim started to ask.
Blair wheeled from the sink and stared at Jim. "You just don't get it, do you?"
"Talk to me, Blair," Jim replied, softly. He rose from his chair, breakfast forgotten. Blair was upset. That was more important.
Blair roughly shoved at his hair. "You leave for Vancouver in half an hour, man. Who knows how long you're going to be there? Spring break aside, it may be months before I see you again. What the hell does that mean for us? What the hell does that mean for me?"
Jim took a step toward him and Blair backed up against the sink. A touch from Jim would be his undoing and he'd promised himself he wouldn't cry.
//Gee, Blair,// he chastised himself. //Like getting angry is better?//
"Blair," Jim soothed, "it's not going to take months. I promise. I'll be back before you know it. You just have to trust me."
Blair's shoulders slumped, his anger spent. "I'm sorry, Jim," he whispered. "It's just that we've finally figured out what's been missing from our lives--each other. I can't stand being apart from you."
Jim closed the gap between them and threw his arms around Blair. "It's not any easier for me, babe. You're the other half of me and when we're apart, I feel incomplete." Jim pulled back slightly and gazed into the inky depths of his lover's eyes.
"You are 'my north, my south, my east, my west...'" Jim quoted, softly. With a moan that sounded surprisingly like pain, Jim brought his mouth down to Blair's, tangling one of his hands in the dark, curly mane. With gut wrenching desperation, he plundered Blair's mouth with his tongue. His assault became frenzied and he drove Blair back across the sink.
A moan of pain, mixed with pleasure, escaped Blair's lips into Jim's mouth. "Jim," he choked out against his lover's lips, "the counter--digging into--my back."
Their tongues continued to do battle as if the freedom of the country were at stake when Jim brought his arm from Blair's back to his waist. Jim dragged Blair against him. Blair gasped as he felt Jim's erection press against his own.
"Better?" Jim's voice was ragged as he came up for air for only a moment.
Blair's response was only a grunt as he clutched at Jim's shirt like a drowning man clutches a life preserver. He ground his hips against Jim's. Jim tore his lips away with obvious reluctance. His chest heaving, he pushed himself off of Blair. His guide held onto the sink as if he'd fall if not for its support.