TRUTHS THAT WAKE

(c) July 2002 by Charlotte Frost

PART FOUR

Blair woke with dawn peeking through the skylight.  It was going to be another grey day.  His back was to Jim, and Blair didn't want to turn around for fear of waking him.  Instead, he dozed off and on while watching the clock on the nightstand move closer to the time the alarm was set for.  Blair kept thinking about stretching to turn it off, but he went back to sleep before he could put thought into action.

The alarm woke him abruptly.

He was in the process of turning it off when Jim stirred beside him.  The fact that Jim wasn't up before the alarm spoke of his exhaustion.

As if to emphasize Blair's thought, Jim groaned as he turned over to face Blair, hand going to his head to raise his mask.  "Oh, God. I'm beat."

Blair sat up.  "Yeah, a lot of emotion tends to wear you out.  Even happy emotions can zap your strength."

Jim was slowly rising up on an arm.

"Jim?"  Blair pushed on Jim's shoulder, forcing him back to the mattress.  "Let me call Simon and get you the day off."  His voice softened with respect.  "You need to spend today grieving for Stephen."

Jim's baggy eyes rose to meet his.  "If last night wasn't grieving, I don't know what is."

"Last night was catharsis," Blair stated reasonably.  He squeezed Jim's shoulder.  "Give yourself today to really miss him.  To think about him.  To remember him."  His fingers squeezed again.  "Please."

Jim snorted.  "If you can get Simon to agree."

That was a surprising concession.  Blair jumped to his feet, grabbed his robe, and wrapped it around himself.  "Go back to sleep if you want.  I'll take care of it."

After starting the coffeemaker, then relieving himself, Blair picked up the cordless phone and pushed the speed button for Simon's home since, like them, Simon should be getting ready for work.

"Banks," Simon growled, sounding as though he wasn't quite awake yet.

Blair gulped.  "Uh, Simon, this is Blair.  Jim needs a day off today."

"Why?"  Suspicious.

Blair didn't hide his sigh of frustration.  He wondered if Simon thought they were just wanting to play hooky.  "Trust me.  He does."
"What's this about?"  The superior tone dripped disapproval and Blair knew Simon was thinking they were going to hump each other all day.  Yet, he didn't know how Jim would feel about him telling Simon the truth.

Damn, there I go again.  Blair mentally clenched his fists at his own insecurities.  It was time to get over it.  He had a right take care of Jim.  "Look, Simon, Jim had a rough night last night.  His sister-in-law came over with some things that belonged to Stephen. Let's just say that a lot of things caught up to Jim at once.  He needs a day to grieve."

Long silence.  He could imagine Simon thinking that Jim had already had his bereavement days.  But Jim hadn't used them to grieve; he'd used that time to be the proper and efficient family member who took care of everybody else's needs.

"All right, Sandburg.  One day."

Blair let out a breath a relief.  "Thanks, Simon.  Thank you so much."

"Sandburg?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for telling me the truth."

"Yeah.  Sure.  Bye, Simon."  Blair cut the line, knowing Simon had meant the thanks to be for relieving him of the suspicion that they were going to be in bed fucking all day.

We haven't even progressed to kissing yet.  Be patient with us.

Blair grimaced.  And then condemn us, if you must.

He called the University and said he was sick, but all someone needed to do was give a reading assignment to his class and dismiss it.  When he heard Jim moving about an hour later, he mixed up a mug of hot chocolate, thinking it would be more comforting than coffee.  He was just finishing when Jim came down in his robe and then stood before the balcony window to gaze out at the cloud-covered city.

Blair came up next to him and handed him the mug.  "Hot chocolate."

Jim accepted the cup and put his arm around Blair.  After a sip, his arm tightened and he said, "I never knew it was possible to feel this close to another person."

Blair's heart swelled as he rubbed his head against Jim's robe.  "I didn't know, either."

Jim's gaze was still on the skyline.  "Thanks for being there last night, buddy."

"Thanks for letting me help."  Blair hesitated as he considered the equally important thing that had happened last night.  "And thanks for," he glanced up, "what you told Tina."

Jim rubbed at Blair's back through his robe.  "It was past time.  I know it hurt you to be left out of the funeral arrangements and everything concerning Stephen.  It was inconsiderate of me."

"Not really," Blair soothed, feeling glad that Jim understood his feelings.  "I may have felt left out, but the feelings of Stephen's family were what mattered most then.  You didn't do anything wrong."

Jim turned so that he was facing Blair.  He tilted Blair's chin up.  "You want to move some of your stuff upstairs?"

That felt really good.  But, "I don't think I should yet.  Why move stuff around if, a few months from now, we might have to move things again if I get the job?"

"You sure?"

Blair nodded.

Jim's thumb rubbed at Blair's chin.  "I love you."

Blair absorbed the sincerity of Jim's eyes.  "Despite your grief, everything seems so perfect right now."

Jim cupped the side of Blair's face, then moved past him.

Blair watched while Jim knelt down by the box again.  This time, Jim's expression was less of sadness and more of curiosity.  He picked up the army plane.

"You remember playing with any of those?" Blair asked as he moved closer.

"Some of it."  Jim indicated the plane.  "Stephen and I used to fight over this. Of course, since I was the older brother, I always won those fights."

Blair knelt next to the box.  "Stephen must have kept this stuff because it reminded him of you."  They certainly weren't the kind of possessions that one would expect a grown man to keep.

Jim shrugged.  "Maybe."

When enough toys had been removed, Blair spotted a coloring book at the bottom of the box.  He pulled it out.  "Why would Stephen have kept this particular book?"

Jim took it from him and leafed through the pages.  It was a GI Joe coloring book.  Most of the pictures were scribbled over.  But some were excellently colored.

Jim was intent on the pages as he turned them.  "I remember this book.  I was probably seven or eight and Stephen was five.  I was telling him that coloring was for sissies and I tried to ignore what he was doing."  He stopped at one of the scribbled pages.  "But I kept noticing what a bad job he was doing and I knew I could do better.  I told him I could.  He handed the book over to me and I colored some of these pictures."  He indicated one of the nice ones.  "Stephen was amazed that I could keep the colors inside the lines.  I really enjoyed that attention from him -- him looking up to me like that."

Blair said, "You've always been someone that other people look up to."  He thought a moment, then amended, "I can't speak for women, I guess.  But boys and young men -- you're the kind of man they want to be like.  If a man doesn't hate your guts, then he wants to be like you.  And I bet even some of the ones who hate your guts want to be like you, too."

Jim didn't reply.  His eyes were still on the book.

"I'm serious, Jim.  You have that quality about you.  You've always been someone who's wanted to cultivate young males and make them into good men.  Stephen when you were little.  I bet a lot of guys in the army.  And then you were a big brother to Danny Choi.  I've looked up to you in dozens of ways.  I guess that's why it's so hard now for me to feel as your equal."

Jim had glanced up at the mention of Danny's name.  He looked as though he wanted to say something, but he didn't.

Blair recalled, "You know, Simon once told me that Danny's death probably would've hit you a lot worse than it did if I hadn't been around for you to focus on instead.  You almost seem to go from one young protégé to another."

Jim was focusing on the book.  "What's your point, Sandburg?"

Jim was feeling vulnerable again and obviously deflecting, as indicated by using  "Sandburg".  

Blair decided not to push.  "Only that all of us who have known you -- I think we are better men for it.  I certainly am."

Jim muttered something and put the book aside, then picked up one of the toys.

Blair got to his feet.  "When you're ready to accept a compliment, let me know."  He moved toward his room and called over his shoulder, "If you want to talk about Stephen, let me know.  Otherwise, I'm getting dressed and working on my class notes."

He thought about working in his room and giving Jim privacy, but he really didn't want to lock himself away.  Besides, there wasn't much left for Jim to consider private after last night.

He set up the laptop on the kitchen table and went to work.  After he was engrossed, Jim came toward the table and put down a paper with colorful crayon markings on it.  He tapped it.  "What's that look like to you?"

Blair adjusted his glasses and picked up the paper.  "Looks like a map of some kind."

Jim nodded.  "I remember that we'd learned how to make maps in one of my classes.  So, I came home and showed off to Stephen how I could make one."  Pause.  "What does it look like it's a map of?"

Blair studied the thickest outline.  The map was amazingly sophisticated for a child.  "It could be Peru."

"That's what I think, though I don't remember what country I was trying to draw."

Blair looked up at Jim.  "Were you studying Peru in class?"  What a weird coincidence.

"I don't remember.  I'm sure we studied South America in some of my classes, but I don't remember keying in specifically on Peru."

Blair felt his heart quicken with excitement.  "Jim, it might have been your spirit animal that prompted you to focus on Peru.  When your unit went there, do you remember ever reflecting back to this map you made as a child?"

"No."  Jim picked up the map.

Blair restrained a sigh.  Jim hadn't put any effort into trying to remember, since he considered any such ideas to be within the realm of hocus-pocus and he preferred not to go there.  Well, fine.  Today was Jim's day, and whatever Jim needed was what mattered most.

Jim said, "I'm just remembering it now, because I was getting so much enjoyment out of impressing Stephen."

How Stephen must have loved his older brother.  Thinking of Tina's visit last night, Blair said, "Jim?  Are you really okay with Tina moving the kids away from Cascade?"

"Yeah.  She's got a hard road ahead of her, raising those kids without a father, so she's got to do what she thinks is best."

Blair barely managed not to roll his eyes.  "I didn't ask what she thought was best.  I asked if you were okay about it.  If you wish the kids would stay here."

A shrug.  "Doesn't matter.  I never saw them much to begin with."

"Yeah, but I wondered if, as Gary got older, he might be one of those young males you'd like to take under your wing.  I mean," Blair grinned, "now that I'm an equal and don't really qualify anymore."

"And if not?" Jim asked, a touch of amusement in his voice.  "What are you saying?  That we should adopt a child?"

Blair chuckled and held up his hands to ward off any such thought.  "I hope not.  I'm having a tough enough time just adapting to the idea that I'm never going to be rid of you and that I might have a real, honest-to-God paying job at some point in the future.  To say nothing of the expectation that some day soon you and I are going to violate each other's private places."

Jim sat at the table as Blair more seriously added, "I wouldn't be surprised, though, if you suddenly take a liking to some wet-behind-the-ears rookie who shows up at Major Crimes, or some teenager up the street who needs a male authority figure who gives a damn."

Jim tilted his head, as though considering that.  Then, "Maybe I've gotten past my need to be looked up to.  Maybe you broke me of that."  He punched Blair's arm with a gentle fist.

"It's not just about being looked up to," Blair corrected.  "It's also about handing down your better qualities to others.  You have a natural inclination to do that.  To teach; just not in the traditional classroom way."

When Jim didn't answer, Blair went back to his computer.  After a moment, he glanced up to find Jim still watching him.  "What?"

"This is the second time you've mentioned sex in less than forty-eight hours, Chief."

Oh.  Yes, he'd mentioned violating each other's private places a few minutes back.  He shrugged, not sure what Jim's point was.

Jim stood up and shifted the chair around, so that he was sitting with his arms on the back.  The chair also seemed to have moved closer.  He said, "I think it's time we talked about it."

Relieved to have something to fall back on, Blair said, "Jim, today isn't the right day for this.  This is a day for you to mourn Stephen."

"Stephen won't care.  Besides, it makes me a little crazy when I know you're holding back something that's on your mind.  It's time for you to talk about whatever it was you wanted to talk about before we do anything."

Did that mean they were going to do something... today?  Or was Jim just wanting to get the talk-it-over part out of the way?

Blair was very aware that Jim was only in his robe and boxers.

He shook his head, trying to focus back on his computer.  "I feel too weird about this, man."  He spent a few seconds looking over his notes, but they didn't register.  When he risked a glance at Jim, those blue eyes were still watching him.  So intently.

Blair brought his hands down to his lap, feigning casualness as he faced Jim directly.  But the plea in his voice was strong.  "Give me a break here, man."

Jim's brow furrowed.  "What are you so afraid of?"

"That you'll laugh.  I have something really, really embarrassing to tell you."

"Sounds like you may as well get it out in the open, Chief.  What did you once tell me?  That when we get things out in the open they don't seem as bad?"

Blair growled.  That was dirty pool.  But he knew the time was here.  He looked down at his hands that twisted in his shirt.  "Dammit, Jim."

"Just spill it.  How bad can it be?"

Blair closed his eyes and released a deep breath.  "Okay."  He managed to open them.  "When I was sixteen I was, like, hornier than the horniest horny toad."

Jim tilted his head thoughtfully.  "That's pretty horny."

"Yeah.  Exactly.  I must have read somewhere about the pleasures of the prostate gland.  So I'm thinking, great.  A new stimulation.  I just needed to find away to stimulate myself through... you know, the anal wall."

"Rectal wall," Jim corrected.  "Your anus is your asshole.  It doesn't have walls.  Just sphincter muscles that open and close it."

Blair glanced quickly around the table, wishing there was a napkin or something that he could throw at Jim.  But there wasn't.  "So, I went out and bought this dildo.  I tried to stick it up my butt and it hurt like crazy.  I'm talking major pain here.  So I pulled it out and my butt hole ached for days.  Probably should have gone to the clinic, but I was way too embarrassed.  Death was preferable.  But the pain finally went away after a few days.  Never did anything like that again."

Jim shifted, his expression unreadable as his eyes remained on Blair.

Blair rushed on.  "Then, a few years later, I was with a date.  I wanted to try that with her and she was okay with it.  But we had to stop before it went very far, because it hurt her too much.  I can understand why, too.  From my end, it felt really tight."  Blair released a nervous breath, crossing his arms.  "So, I don't really understand how gay guys do that.  But then, I've seen statistics that a lot of gay couples don't do it at all.  But, on the other hand," Blair was aware that his leg was nervously bouncing up and down, "I really, really want to have that with you."  Pause.  "I just don't know how, so that the pain isn't unbearable."

Blair released another breath, glancing away from those blue eyes.  "Please blink, Jim."

"Is that what you wanted to tell me?" Jim asked gently.  "Or is there more?"

Blair shook his head, realizing his arms were still crossed defensively.  He uncrossed them to gesture.  "That's the only thing I have issues about.  That I'm scared of.  Anything else...," he grinned, meeting Jim's eyes, "I want to do and I'm really eager to do."

Jim placed his chin on his folded arms.  "With anal intercourse, it's all in the relaxing of the sphincter muscles.  That's even more important than the lubricant.  You can use all the lubricant you want to make it go in easy, but it's still going hurt if the muscles are tense.  Physical relaxation is psychological as much as anything.  It's about trusting the person you're with.  One night stands usually aren't going to fall under that heading."

That was fascinating.  But... "Jim, they didn't teach you this when you were a medic in the army, did they?"

Jim grinned.  "Not hardly."  He shrugged.  "I've read a little in my time, Chief.  I'm not completely internet stupid."

It was hard to imagine Jim having not only the knowledge, but the time and opportunity to read the necessary material.  "Uh, is there any particular site you have bookmarked that I should read, too?"

Soft chuckle.  "Actually, I was pulling your leg.  A bit.  Most of my knowledge came from when I was in Vice."

Blair's eyes widened.  "They get this specific in Vice?"

"No, no." Jim laughed again.  "Once, when I was undercover, I was waiting for this hood to meet up with me and my informant in this gay bar.  The informant was a really nervous, paranoid squirrelly type.   My job was to keep him there until the hood showed up, so we could arrest the hood.  So, this informant's eyes are all over the place, like he's ready to make a break for it at any moment.  I was acting like a guy who wanted to meet this hood for a job and that's why the informant thought I was hanging around.  Anyway, I start engaging him in conversation.  He was bisexual and I start acting like this totally clueless straight guy, which I pretty much was, who wanted to ass-fuck my lady friend, and I wanted tips on how to do it.  He really wanted to be helpful and he started to relax while he explained all this stuff to me, from his experiences.  Once we'd covered that topic, I started in about how I couldn't imagine any guy voluntarily letting another guy put a cock up his ass.  He started telling me how good it could feel when it was done right."

"Wow," Blair marveled, relieved that Jim had that experience to draw on.  Politely, he asked, "Did you get the hood?"

"Yeah, he eventually showed up and we got him."  Jim shook his head.  "I never had any idea then how valuable that information would be for me, all these years later."

Blair thought about how Jim worded that.  "You never used his advice with any of the women you've slept with?"

"Na.  It's not that I wasn't ever interested in trying, but I didn't see the point if it was a short-term relationship, as almost all of them have been."  He glanced away.

Blair reached out and settled his hand on Jim's arm.  "Not anymore," he vowed.  He smiled as his heart expanded.  "This is strictly long-term." Thinking of the word Jim had used last night, he added, "This is life-term."

Jim smiled lovingly at him, moving his unoccupied arm to run his fingertips along Blair's hand.

"So, Jim, since this is confession time, is there anything you're uneasy about us doing?"

"No," Jim said softly.  His eyes looked Blair over.  "I just want to make you happy.  That means everything to me."

"You already make me happy," Blair said, thinking that being in love had to be the greatest feeling in the world.  

Finally, Jim stood.  He brushed his fingers along Blair's cheek as he moved past him.  "I think I want to watch a lot of TV tonight. Maybe get an early start with the syndicated reruns."

Blair smiled to himself as he listened to Jim move to the refrigerator.  

Tonight.  Something was going to happen tonight.

They didn't talk about it as they went through the motions of lunch and Jim caught a nap on the sofa.  Afterwards, he showered and dressed and put the box of Stephen's stuff down in storage, though he let Blair keep the map of Peru.  Since Blair was engrossed in his notes, he gave Jim a grocery list when Jim said they needed to stock up.  Jim didn't seem too disappointed when Blair didn't want to accompany him.  Maybe he had a need similar to Blair's for them to spend some time apart and catch their breaths as they each anticipated the evening.

The new food supplies resulted in an impromptu dinner of snacks as they took their time about putting away the groceries.  Jim had brought home a couple of movies.  When Blair went to the bathroom to relieve his bladder, he carefully washed himself off afterwards.  Brushed his teeth.  Shaved.  Then he slipped into his room and put on clean underwear beneath his jeans.   He sniffed his armpits and decided his shirt was still in good shape.  He furrowed his fingers through his hair, trying to neaten it.

When he came out, Jim was putting one of the movies into the VCR.

The phone rang.

They glanced at each other.  Jim picked up the remote for the TV.

Blair's stomach clenched as he moved to the answering machine to listen to the message that would result.  Please don't let it be Simon.

The beep sounded and a masculine voice came through.  "Yes, Blair Sandburg?  This is Jeff Wakkanhoof at the Center for Pacific Native American Studies.  Just letting you know that we've narrowed down our selection to three applicants and you're one of them. Congratulations.  Please call me back at your convenience to schedule a second interview.  We'll try to make a lunch date out of it and have you meet some of the other personnel at the Center.  Also, be prepared to discuss your salary.  Congratulations again and I look forward to hearing from you.  555-7878.  That's the 509 area code."

Blair put a hand to his mouth, his insides churning.  "Oh, man."  This is about the scariest non-violent thing that's ever happened to me.

He was suddenly aware of Jim beside him, and then the next thing he knew his feet were off the ground.  Strong arms held his waist as he was swung around.  Jim was laughing out loud.  "Ah, Chief, I'm so proud of you," he declared.

Blair had to steady himself when he was placed back on his feet.  "Oh, man," he said worriedly, "what if I actually get the job?"

Jim kissed his mouth.  "It means you'll be a big shot. A big shot Ph.D. with a big shot position and a big shot salary.  And with the little, buff wife at home who plays at being a cop to make a supplemental income."

Blair punched Jim's arm, but he was laughing at the image.  Then he put his hand to his queasy stomach.  "Oh, man, Jim, my nerves aren't made for this.  It's so weird.  It's like it'll be awful if I get the job; and yet, after coming this far, I'll be real, real upset if I don't get it -- just as a matter of principle."

Jim's hands cupped Blair's face.  "Do you realize," he said, the tone of his voice one of reverence, "that you are probably one of the youngest people to ever be seriously considered for a director's position?  Most companies with a position like that have somebody at least middle-aged in them, because it takes that long to get the experience necessary to do the job.   You're brilliant and that's something other people can see right away."

Except Simon, Blair thought, but he didn't voice it.  Besides, he was eager to hear any additional praise that Jim wanted to dish out. Then he realized he had some of his own to offer.  "I never would've bothered making the drive out there if you hadn't encouraged me.  I would have talked myself into believing it wasn't worth the time."

Jim kissed him on the cheek.  Then he pulled back.  "Even if you don't get the job, you'll now have the confidence that you interview well."  Jim's grin widened.  "But I bet you get it."

Blair's throat tightened.  "Thanks."

Jim's thumb stroked Blair's cheek.  "You ready for the movie?"

Blair gazed up at him, the worst of his queasiness having left.  He reveled in his own surge of confidence. "I want to go to bed with you.  I don't mean to sleep."

Jim's tongue darted out to run along his own lips, which Blair just noticed were dry.  Now, it was the backs of Jim's fingers that fluttered along Blair's face.  "Go on up," Jim said in a soft whisper.  "I'll be right there."

Blair couldn't break eye contact until Jim stepped away.  He wondered if there was anything he was forgetting as he headed for the stairs.  His sock-covered feet sounded loud and heavy as he went up the steps while keeping a good grip on the railing.

There were no lights on in the bedroom.  He thought about undressing, but he didn't want to do that alone.  So he sat at the edge of the bed, waiting.  When he saw the lights going off downstairs he pulled off his socks.

Then he waited some more.

Jim blanked his mind, trying to focus on traffic, as he pulled the Ford pickup out into it.  The morning sun was blinding and he pushed down the visor.  He'd already lost sight of Blair's Volvo before it had turned toward Rainier.

Welcome to married life.  Again. The love.  The passion.  The joy.  The pain.  The confusion.  So many emotions squeezed into a matter of hours.

First there was the lovemaking.  Their first time.  Him climbing the stairs in the darkness, finding Blair waiting for him at the foot of bed, looking like some androgynous god waiting to be ravished. Their first passionate kiss.  Undressing each other.  Rubbing, petting.

Pushing Blair back on the bed when he was completely naked.  Getting on top of him, because it was so instinctive.  Grabbing his hands in a fit of passion.  Then Blair going berserk.  Animalistic.  Making insane noises of need and pleasure.  Only in retrospect did Jim realize that it was his strength that had turned Blair on to such a degree.  Barely brushing Blair's cock with his own jean-clothed crotch and Blair coming all over the place.

Then starting over.

His own unexpected joy when Blair's eager hands had grabbed his ass cheeks.  Such strong, powerful hands wanting him. Squeezing him.  Digging into his sentinel-sensitive flesh.  What a delight, in his forties, to discover a new, wonderful sensation: being so greatly desired by masculine strength.

Then, sated and exhausted merely from tactile-induced ejaculations, snuggling up together afterwards.  Blair holding onto Jim in a way Jim couldn't describe.  But it made him think of the dream Blair had told to him once -- when Blair dreamt he was a human stud animal, breeding women with a complete lack of feeling and sensation, other than his own despair from knowing it was all he had to look forward to for the rest of his life.  As Blair's limbs lay so deliberately intertwined with Jim's, Jim couldn't help but wonder if Blair was assuring itself via the contact that Jim's warmth was for real; that it was possible to still feel loved when the loving was over.

Finally sleep, and then waking this morning to smile bashfully at each other.  Lazy petting and cuddling.  Eventual conversation. Blair's possible new job.  The second interview.  What should he request for a salary?  Easy, Jim told him.  Ask for a hundred thousand and let them  negotiate down to eighty grand at the lowest.  Blair saying it was ridiculous to ask for that much money.  What if he lost the job because he asked for too much?  Jim stressing that the Center listed the job with the salary being negotiable, meaning they expected to negotiate.  They knew candidates would start high with the expectation of being negotiated down.  Blair trying to think in terms of necessities and eventually talking himself down to fifty grand being a reasonable salary for someone like him who didn't need a lot of material possessions.  Jim getting frustrated that Blair placed so little value on himself and on the value of his education, which had surely cost well over six figures over the course of his fifteen years as a student.  Besides, no matter how grand his salary, he'd have grey hairs before he'd get all his student loans paid off.  He deserved a large salary, needed a large salary.  Blair couldn't see asking for the amount Jim wanted with any confidence; the current director would know he was bluffing. So, they continued to argue through breakfast.

But all was not lost.  They had hugged and kissed before departing to their separate cars.

Reassured of their love as he turned into the Cascade PD underground parking lot, Jim returned his thoughts to last night.  His intention to be kind and gentle with Blair.  How he had been almost frightened by Blair's need for something far more intense and demanding.  Then realizing how good of a job he was doing at turning Blair on, leaving him gasping with an even greater need -- the need for air after each climax was over.   Blair might be afraid of taking Jim inside him, but he certainly had no qualms about being manhandled.  He craved it.

What a hot little number, Jim thought as he parked the truck.  All mine.

He got out and headed for the elevator, some part of his mind wanting to work on understanding Blair's surprising need.  Between the army and Vice, Jim had learned that everyday human beings could have the most bizarre of quirks.  As a Vice cop, he remembered watching a video of a millionaire who paid a call girl to kick him around like a dog.  The man obviously enjoyed the humiliation -- and the release from all the staggering responsibilities that justified his million--dollar salary.

Jim had remembered feeling sorry for the man.

There was no doubt that Blair had had a lot of worry the past year.  Fretting over his vocational future.  Wondering if he and Jim were going to remain together.  Is it possible that last night was about Blair feeling relieved of the burden of his worries?  Or... had he always behaved so wildly passionate in bed?

Another memory replaced the prior one.  A few years ago, returning to the loft in the middle of the night.  Jim had expected to be on stakeout until dawn, but the perp was caught unexpectedly.  As he'd ridden the elevator up, his hearing had instinctively reached out, wanting to make sure his unexpected presence wouldn't be unwelcome.  Turned out, he heard Sandburg with a girl.  She giggling, him talking.  He'd listened further for how far things had progressed.  Noises and words indicated that they were in the middle of their activity.  Penetration had already taken place.  Jim decided to go out for some food at the all-night pancake house.  Once the elevator arrived at the third floor, he took the stairs back down.  As he pulled his hearing back, his last tonal glimpse was of Blair talking nonstop.

Christ, Sandburg, Jim had thought then as he trotted down the stairs, only you could keep up a full-fledged conversation while in the middle of doing it.

How odd that seemed now.  Once Jim had walked up the stairs last night, not a word had been spoken until it was over.  But there had be plenty of sounds -- mostly Blair's eager, panting moans; cries of need and then of release; groans of satiation as Jim pleasured him.

No, he couldn't imagine Blair behaving like that with any of his female companions.  Was it because they were female?  Or was last night simply because it was with Jim?  That Blair trusted Jim to allow his passion and need such freedom?

Jim stepped off the elevator just as Simon came down the hall.

"How are you, Jim?" Simon greeted.

"Fine, sir."  Jim fell into step beside him.  Actually, Simon, I found out last night that the sweet-natured man I'm spending the rest of my life with turns into a wild animal when he's aroused.

He could imagine Simon's response:  But that's not necessarily a bad thing, is it, Jim?

No, he supposed not.  Hell, it was downright exciting -- once he'd gotten past his momentary fear that he'd somehow hurt Blair. Heck, most of his own arousal had stemmed from the pure intensity of Blair's arousal.  Until those big, strong hands of Blair's had grabbed his glutei muscles.  Jesus.  He'd almost come just from being felt up like that.

Jim took his place at his desk.  Who the hell needs assfucking and cocksucking when you can just play grab-ass all night?

"Hey, Jim," Henri handed him a folder, "here's that Maggedon case file. Simon said to give it to you."

Jim nodded as he accepted it.  He looked at the clock.  It was nine fucking hours before he and Blair could play grab-ass again.

It was less than three hours before Blair called.

"You still mad at me?" were the first words out of Blair's mouth.

Softly, not wanting to draw attention, Jim said, "I wasn't mad.  Just frustrated that you place so little value on yourself."

"I don't think little of my own value," Blair countered.  "I'm just not used to thinking of my value in terms of dollars."

"I know," Jim relented.  "You've been working all your life for little or no pay."

"Yeah, and now that I'm facing big pay, it's hard not to feel demeaned by it because it's defining myself by materiality."

"I understand, Chief.  I do.  But the fact is that you can't pay off all those student loans for your Ph.D. with a sub-doctorate income."

"I know, Jim."  Uneasy laugh.  "And I know it was really stupid of me to say that I was only going to ask for fifty grand.  Heck, the middle manager at the Center makes sixty."

Jim smiled, glad that it sounded like Blair was coming around.

"I just," Blair went on, "don't feel comfortable about the idea of discussing it with the very people who are going to pay me."

"I know," Jim insisted.  "It's not something you've ever done before.  Maybe you can talk to a fellow professor who teaches that kind of stuff.  Don't they have classes in the business department that teach you how to do an interview and not leave too much on the table?"

A moment of silence.  Then, "Thanks, Jim, that's a good idea.  I'll make some calls."

Jim's shoulders felt lighter.  "Score one for the buff cop."

"Hey, don't knock your intellect.  You were a straight A student."

"Only because I was utterly terrified of being anything but."

"Lots of kids are terrified, but they still can't manage perfect A's."

Jim didn't respond, ready to drop that particular subject.  Besides, someone was in Simon's office and Simon was gesturing for him through the blinds.

"Jim?"

"Yeah, I'm here.  Simon wants me for something."

"I just...."  Long hesitation.  "I just want you to know that this may sound really corny, but I'm completely serious.  Last night was the best sex I've ever had.  Ever."

Jim's heart swelled and he automatically hunched down, trying to give himself even greater privacy as his voice dropped an octave. "I loved it, too.  Been thinking about it all morning, in fact."

He could almost see the smile across the line.  "Really?"

"Really.  I've really got to go, Chief.  Are you going to make it by?"

"Yeah, I've got to be here for the students for another hour.  Then I'll be by."

"Okay, see you then."  Jim whispered, "Love you."

"Same here, man."  The line went dead.

It was all Jim could do to pay attention to the meeting with Simon and the sheriff from Tacoma County, who was trying to see if one of Cascade's solved cases was similar to one of their own unsolved ones.

He kept hearing Blair's soft voice in his ear.  Last night was the best sex I've ever had.  Ever.

Blair's tone had been far too genuine to be the-latest-is-the-greatest bravado.  There had been such a vulnerability to his words.

As much as Jim had enjoyed hearing Blair say that, he found it puzzling, considering how tame their activity had been.

Thankfully, the meeting only lasted fifteen minutes before the sheriff was directed to Records. Jim sat back at his desk, pulled the open Maggedon file closer, and pretended to study it as his mind worked on another situation.

All of Blair's girls.....

The time Jim came home early from stakeout and overheard Blair talking almost non-stop while making love to some giggling date.

The time a few months ago when Blair had asked Jim to stay away all night because he had a date; and then told Jim he could come home about midnight because the girl had pulled a "this isn't a good idea" once they started undressing.  What instinct did she have about Blair that suddenly turned her off?  Maybe how meaningless it would be to him?

The time, shortly after Blair moved in, when Jim had come home and unlocked the front door, only to find the chain in place because Blair was making out with his date on the sofa.  She'd already seemed annoyed and Jim didn't feel that he'd ruined everything.  In fact, after she left, Blair had confessed, "This whole evening has been a disaster" because he couldn't stop thinking about the Lash victim he'd seen.  How many other dates have been disasters, Chief?

The time when Samantha in Forensics had nearly blown Blair's face off because she was mad at him for double-booking when they had a date.  Afterwards, Blair had laughingly declared, "She must really like me!"   What a screwed-up notion of affection, Jim thought now.

The time when Blair had seemed surprised when a relationship ended because he'd shown his new squeeze his highly detailed diaries, explaining to Jim that he'd mistakenly thought "complete honesty would make us closer."  How desperate do you have to be to 'be closer' to do something so naïve as that?

The sheer fact that, in his entire thirty-one years, Blair had never had a long-term relationship.

God.  Jim rubbed at his face.  

And then there was that bizarre dream Blair had told him about.  Breeding women almost non-stop and feeling such a sense of despair.

Chalked up against Blair's fifteen years of sexual activity with as many women as he could find to say "yes" was Blair's simple declaration that last night's less-than-daring activity had been the best ever.

Chief, Jim thought sadly, what have you been doing to yourself all these years?

Fact:  Blair's many, many, many copulations with female dates had been thoroughly unfulfilling.  Yet, he had always pursued more.

When Blair had been shot during the run-in with Quinn, he had been doped to the gills after help arrived, so that he was cheerful and laughing and not feeling any pain.  He'd also made a date with an old acquaintance of Jim's.  Jim had been encouraged by Blair's good humor and the proof that Blair was going to be okay.  But now, he recalled an odd statement Blair had laughingly made then: "I have a problem", in reference to his need to continuously pursue the opposite sex.  Obviously, the morphine had lessened his inhibitions, or he never would have admitted that.

Jim knew there was such a thing as sex addicts, but the decrease in Blair's activities the past couple of years proved that Blair didn't suffer from a genuine addiction.  

So, his encounters had been empty for reasons other than fulfilling a biological/psychological need.

Could it all simply come down to gender?  Female bodies offered Blair little satisfaction but males aroused him?  But if so, surely Blair would have figured that out long before now.  Being raised by a free-spirited mother and spending all of his adult life in a relatively free-spirited academic environment, Blair wouldn't have had any reason to repress any homosexual desires.  Surely, he would have had opportunities to act on those desires, if he'd ever felt them.

Funny, though, that Jim's first impression of Blair in his office had been that Blair was definitely not heterosexual.  The giveaway had been Blair's verbal chest beating about banging the nurse who had told him about Jim's file at the hospital.  It was too obvious a ploy to prove to Jim what a lady's man he was.  Yet, after Blair moved in with him and the parade of dates proved to be one hundred percent female, Jim had painlessly adjusted his first impression to the apparent fact that his roommate was thoroughly heterosexual.

Then there was that weird dream.  If Blair had been "breeding" men in his dream would he have felt that same despair?  Or would he have felt excitement instead?

If Blair secretly yearned for men and Jim was the only man he'd had sex with... well, that didn't fit either.  All those evenings on the sofa recently, when Jim had rubbed his hands up and down Blair's back, inside his shirt.  He knew Blair had been aroused some of those times; so had Jim, on occasion.  But it was a patient arousal, certainly not a desperate one from having finally gotten what he wanted.

And then Blair's bashful, but courageous discussion about what scared him.  Patiently laying out the ground rules.  Again, hardly a man who was looking for a big strong person to sweep him off his feet and claim him.

So the puzzle remained.  Last night was the best sex I've ever had.  Ever.

Could it really only be because it was with Jim?

Last night, after their activity, Blair maneuvering their limbs similar to a pretzel, almost as though to guarantee that Jim wouldn't let go of him.

God, is it really that simple?  Jim wondered now.  Could it really just be all about love?  He's never had it before... and now he has?

Jim rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus on his work.

Simon hoped his friends weren't really interested in watching the scantily clad girls on the dance stage.  Besides, the stage was rather far away from this particular booth.  Of course, with Jim's sentinel sight, he could probably see the nipples through the dancer's fishnet outfit.   

Simon had needed someone to talk to.  Maybe this bar was a stupid choice, but he'd hoped the music and dancing would allow them lots of privacy.

Finally, Blair turned from watching the dancing girl to look at him.  "So, Simon, is Daryl still seeing that girl, Sheila?"

Okay, that was straight to the point.  Simon refilled his beer mug from the pitcher at the table.  "They moved in together."

"What?"  Jim's voice joined Blair's in exclamation.  His arm was draped behind Blair, who sat between them in the circular booth.  Blair's hand was not-so-unobtrusively on Jim's thigh.

Simon nodded, glad to have their attention.  "He moved in with her a week ago.  Against my wishes, I might add."

"He hasn't called me," Blair offered.

"I think he's trying to lay low."  Simon released a heavy breath.  "We had a pretty big blow-up before he left."  His chest constricted with the pain of the hurtful things they'd flung at each other.

Jim said, "Ah, man, Simon, I'm sorry." His arm stretched behind Blair to touch Simon's sleeve.  "I know it doesn't help, but he's old enough to make his own decisions and be responsible for them."

Yeah, yeah, Simon muttered silently, he's nineteen and, like magic, considered an adult.

Blair sat back and Jim's arm dropped to his shoulder.  

"He'll come around, Simon," Blair said.  "He will.  He might stay with Sheila, but if you keep the lines of communication open, it's not like he's going to reject you from his life completely."

Simon appreciated that they were trying to make him feel better.  But all he felt was that he had fucked up royally.  He was a lousy father.  Now that Daryl had moved out, any further opportunities for parenting were over.

Knowing his self-pity was showing, he said, "Jim never came around to his father, until all these years later."

Jim shook his head.  "It's not the same thing, Simon.  Not even close.  My dad and I never had the kind of relationship that you and Daryl have had.  Daryl's just going through growing pains and thinks he knows everything.  He'll realize before long what a schmuck he's being to push away from you."

Simon muttered, "I'd really like to believe that" as the waitress brought their food.  

Once she left, they dived in.  After a few bites, Blair said, "When I was fourteen, I ran away from home."

Simon took some satisfaction in the look of shock on Jim's face.  At least they didn't know everything about each other.  "Hard to imagine," he said, "as close as you and she seem to be."

"I was really pissed at her," Blair explained.  "I was going through a phase where I thought the reason I didn't know who my father was was all her fault, and I decided to punish her by leaving.  I didn't even sneak out.  I just packed an old suitcase and told her face-to-face that I was going to live with some friends, who I refused to name because I didn't want her coming after me.  She cried and wanted to talk it out and everything, but I was determined."  Blair held up a finger, "But the most important thing she said, despite her grief and how spiteful I was being, was 'You'll always have a home here, no matter what.  You'll always be welcome back.'

"After two weeks, I realized I'd been really shitty and didn't like where I was staying.  I was thinking that I'd been so mean to her that she couldn't possibly want me back.  And, you know, if she hadn't said what she said about me always being welcome, I probably would have been out on the streets.  But I came back.  Because I knew she loved me and wanted me back, even though I didn't deserve it."  Blair paused and looked at Simon directly.  "No matter how hard it is, no matter how ungrateful you feel Daryl is behaving, make sure that he knows he's always welcome back and that you'll always love him."

Simon watched Jim squeeze the back of Blair's neck.  Certainly, he didn't feel that Daryl deserved any sympathy.  But maybe he could borrow some of Naomi's words while still making his own feelings clear on Daryl's choices.

Jim stood.  "Did either of you see the little boy's room?"

"By the entrance," Simon said.

"Need help?" Blair grinned up at him.

"Not hardly."  Jim slapped at Blair's cheek with the back of his hand.

As Jim left, Blair moved over a little and Simon stretched out his legs appreciatively.  

"So, Sandburg, how's married life?"  He was genuinely curious.

Blair poked at his corn kernels with his fork.  "It's...."  He glanced up, his expression as open as Simon had ever seen.  "I don't understand how anyone ever gets divorced.  If being with the person you love is this perfect...."

The kid was serious.  Simon offered, "Give it time.  Nobody who ever gets married ever expects to be divorced some day.  But the divorce rate speaks for itself, unfortunately."

"But how does that happen?" Blair asked.  "How do you go from being in love to not being able to live with the person you chose to marry?"

Simon shrugged.  No easy answer, but he picked an obvious example.  "Why did Jim and Carolyn get divorced?"

"They should never have been married.  They were looking for stability.  They weren't in love; you know, not in a passionate way."

Simon thought that was an interesting way of looking at it.  "As I understand it, you and Jim made your commitment before being passionate with each other."  He wasn't even sure if Blair and Jim had yet been passionate with each other, but somehow he thought so.  There was an increased touchy-feely-ness between them.  It must have worked out okay.

Blair added, "I guess with Jim and Carolyn it was maybe more that neither of them understood beforehand what they expected from each other.  So, there was disappointment in each other and a lack of fulfillment of each other's needs."

"I suppose that happens a lot," Simon said, reaching for a fry.  "Even when you think you're in total agreement about what you want from the marriage, if one your needs change... well, that can cause real problems unless the other person can adapt to those changes."  Simon decided to go ahead and admit, "With Joan and I, she was proud of the fact that I was a cop when she married me.  But she married a patrol cop.  I became a detective, then captain... my responsibilities kept increasing.  The late hours.  It didn't matter that I was bringing home larger paychecks; she felt left out.  Alone.  And she thought I wasn't being a proper father to Daryl."  He sighed.  "I'm afraid she was right."

"No, she wasn't," Blair insisted.

Simon let that go by.  "Trust me, kid.  You might not be able to believe it, but you and Jim will have some bumps in the road.  Hell, probably some potholes.  But at least, in your case, you already know you can work through the bad stuff.  You care enough.  I actually think it could last for you two."  He raised his beer glass in salute.

"Thanks, Simon."  Blair turned back to his corn, which was surely cold by now.

When Simon put his beer down, he was ready to change the subject.  "So, Blair, what's the word on the job?"

"The second interview is next week.  Jim thinks they'll really grill me, because it's down to just three candidates."

"You for sure want it, if they offer it to you?"

"No."  Nervous laugh.  "On the one hand, it would be stupid to turn down an opportunity like that.  On the other...." He reached for his beer.

"What?" Simon prompted.

Blair drew a deep breath, putting his glass down.  "I keep thinking about how strange it'll be to have an eight-to-five job.  One where I'm expected to show up every day, at the same time, for as long as I work there."

Simon furrowed his brow.  "How is that different from the busy life you've had the past few years?"

"My schedules have always been different throughout my entire life," Blair said.  "Each semester, the classes I attend, the classes I teach, my office hours... they've always fluctuated.  Before my Masters, sometimes I'd take a whole semester off for an expedition. Even working with Jim, sometimes it's days, sometimes nights.  Sometimes days on end.  Sometimes an unexpected three-day weekend because we solved a big case.  With this job," he sighed, "it'll be the same hours, five days a week, year after year after year.  It just feels," he shuddered, "confining."

Welcome to the real world, kid.  But Simon was curious.  "It's going to be that way with most any job, isn't it?  What choice do you have?"

Blair moved his plate away and shifted in his seat.  "What I'd really love to do, Simon, is freelance Jim's abilities.  I just don't know how to do that. We'd be like working for ourselves.  We could still live in Cascade, maybe even work mostly with the PD.  But we could also be available for other police departments, or even individuals who have a specialized problem.  But it's not like we can pass out business cards that say, 'If you have a problem, just call Superman.'"

It was an interesting train of thought, though.  "Have you talked with Jim about it?"

"Just mentioned it once.  All he heard was the concept of his sentinel abilities going public and the brick wall went up."  Blair sipped his beer while Simon chuckled.  "I don't see any point in bringing it up again unless I figure out how we could do it."

Simon looked around.  "Where is Jim?"

Blair gestured.  "I can see him.  He must have run into somebody he knows, because he's talking with them."

"Guess he doesn't like our company as much."  Simon sipped his beer.

Blair stared at his glass for a long moment, looking serious.  Then he said, "I just can't believe that anybody would get divorced from each other when they've had... you know, the intimacy."

Back to that subject.  "That's why they say divorce is more stressful than a death in the family."

Blair's expression was eager for answers.  "How can you bear to part with somebody you've been so close to?  Closer than anyone else in your life?"

Simon sighed.  "It feels awful, Blair.  That's why there are very few friendly divorces.  There's hurt and anger and betrayal.  And that's not even counting the ones where infidelity is a factor."

Blair shook his head with determination.  "If anything ever happened with me and Jim, I'd try like crazy to fix it.  It's all I would care about."

You've already fixed it a few times, Simon thought fondly.

Jim returned.  "I'm back, ladies."  He sat down.

"Trying to pick up somebody?" Blair teased.

Jim squeezed Blair's leg.  "Not hardly, Darwin.  Just catching up with an old informant I used to know."

Blair nudged him.  "My turn."

"Don't use the head on the far right.  It doesn't flush."

"Gotcha."

Jim sat back down as Blair disappeared.  He reached for his beer.

Simon asked, "Do you have any idea how much Blair loves you?"

Jim softly replied, "Yeah, Simon, I think I do."

"Good.  Because if you dare mess it up with him, I'm going to kick your ass from here to Antarctica."

Jim stretched out his right leg, the leg that wasn't curled up with Blair.  Overhead, the stars twinkled through the skylight.  His left hand rubbed slowly up and down Blair's arm beneath the covers.  Blair was against his side and shoulder, breathing evenly, though occasional twitches and murmurs indicated it wasn't a deep sleep.

Blair had had a busy day at the University and had come home exhausted.  Jim had taken his worn-out guppy to bed shortly after dinner.  It had amused him that, despite the excitement his sentinel senses detected, Blair wasn't quite as flamboyant in his reactions to Jim's attentions; he didn't have the energy.  That was fine with Jim.  He'd ended up pushing Blair back to the mattress and kissing down his body, finally taken his alert phallus into his mouth.  He didn't think he'd done a very good job, but he'd almost zoned on the texture of it.  Only Blair's groans of excitement -- surely more from the fact that Jim was doing it than the sensation -- had jolted him out of it.  He'd rubbed and squeezed at Blair, to make up for his inadequate sucking, and finally Blair had delivered his emission on Jim's tongue.  And then they curled up together, Blair falling into a doze almost instantly.

Jim had remained awake, wanting to enjoy the feel of Blair beside him.  He also kept examining the inside of his mouth.  He wanted all of Blair's flavors imprinted on his senses, just as all of Blair's smells were, though he hadn't realized it until Blair had pointed it out.

"Why do you always do that?" Blair had asked the other night when they got into bed.

Jim had no idea what he was talking about.

"Sniff like that," Blair explained.  "It's like every time we get into bed together for sex, you take a moment to sniff the air."

Jim realized then that he did do that.  He guessed it was some sort of sentinel instinct, making sure it was truly his chosen who shared his bed and no other.  He just wasn't sure why his sentinel instincts wanted smell to provide that information, rather than sight or any of his other senses.  Maybe smell was simply the hardest to fool.

Blair shifted a smidgen and patted Jim's chest.

Jim took a moment to gently scratch the flesh his fingers were petting.

Blair shifted again, then raised his head.  "Jim?" he asked groggily.

"Go back to sleep, sleepy head."

Blair turned so that he was facing Jim, his head still resting on Jim's chest.  "How come you're lying here awake?"

"No reason.  Just enjoying being here with you."

Blair's hand rubbed down to Jim's stomach.  "I didn't do anything for you, did I?"

"I'm fine," Jim whispered.  "Let's not keep score about our lovemaking.  Okay?"

Blair raised his head to kiss at Jim's neck.  

Damn, that lazy kiss was provocative.

"Go back to sleep," Jim tried again.

Blair paused, then kissed Jim on the corner of the mouth.  He nuzzled him.  "Mm.  I liked so much what you did to me earlier."

"Thanks," Jim whispered, "but I'm sure I wasn't near as good as some of your dates."

"You love," Blair murmured, kissing Jim's chin.  "They just sucked."

"So to speak," Jim said.

Blair chuckled, his hair falling over Jim's face.  "I meant," he pushed it back, "that they just went through the motions to get me off." With tender relish, "You loved me."

Jim fell silent, wondering what Blair meant by that exactly.  He really felt he hadn't done a very good job, technique-wise.  Was it merely because he'd rubbed his hands up and down Blair's flesh for extra stimulation?  Blair had told him his touch was healing, but Jim still wasn't convinced there was anything unique about how his hands felt to Blair.  After all, if he were such a magnificent lover with his hands, wouldn't more female companions have returned to his bed?  Carolyn had certainly never been impressed by his skill.

His arousal firmed as Blair wriggled against him, this time placing a warm kiss on his lips.  Damn, Blair was non-stop motion when loving and being loved.  Jim kissed back, inserting his tongue, wanting to taste more of Blair.  Blair whimpered against his mouth, limbs shifting like an octopus waking, as Jim took charge of him.

He wanted Blair.  More of Blair.  He sat up, forcing them to part, and then grabbed Blair and pushed him face down on the bed.

Blair groaned into the pillow, sprawled legs banging the bed with excitement.

Jim grabbed Blair's waist and one shoulder, pinning him with his weight.  Blair's whole body shuddered as he threw his head back and groaned more deeply.

Jim exhaled his hot breath onto Blair's neck, producing another noise of delight.  He sniffed, enjoying the scents arising from Blair's excited body.  He recognized what his senses wanted, what they needed to continue with the more intimate imprinting that had not yet taken place.  He licked the back of Blair's ear.

Blair cried out and tried to squirm beneath Jim's firm grip.  Though he couldn't see it, Jim knew Blair's little tummy was in full motion, gasping for breath.

Jim was as hard as he'd ever been in life.  He was far from over the hill sexually, thanks to being awakened by the little personification of desire still shifting beneath him.

Jim licked again at Blair's ear, arms tightening in anticipation of another jolt.  Then he whispered, "I want to taste your secret place." He wetly licked Bair's lobe, leaving a dribbling of saliva.  He waited until Blair's quivering moan receded.  "Only my tongue will touch you there."  He licked at Blair's neck.  A muffled whimper now, as Blair had bitten into the pillow.

The hand on Blair's waist moved back and squeezed his rump, producing more noises.  Blair had always been fine about his butt being handled.  It was only the hidden place between the enticing cheeks had been of concern, and Jim would never touch him there without permission.

Jim squeezed the buttock again, his shaft leaking with appreciation for its pliancy.  Blair's flesh was always so malleable beneath his hands.

"Only my tongue will touch you there," Jim assured the ear near his mouth.  His tongue stroked the flesh beneath the lobe.  "Just licking."  The sentinel needs to taste.  More quivers went through Blair's body.  But... "I need you to say yes."  No room for misinterpretation.

Silence.  

Blair was trembling with excitement.  Jim raised his head and saw that Blair's fists were clenched.

Jim shifted, reaching from Blair's hip for the right fist.  He put his fingertips on top of it and massaged.  Within moments, the fist relaxed and Blair's fingers spread out on the mattress.  Jim rested his cheek against the back of Blair's head.  "That's what will happen when my tongue massages you."  Jim realized that this was step one toward some day being allowed inside of Blair.

His erection pulsated.

No answer.  But then, Blair never talked during their lovemaking.  Jim shifted and placed his left hand next to Blair's mouth.  "If your answer is yes, kiss my hand."

Blair kissed his hand.

Jim stroked Blair's cheek and moved back.  Blair was starting to tremble all over again, making low crooning murmurs of anticipation.

Jim's hands rubbed slowly down Blair's back and sides to his buttocks.  He gripped them, massaged them, as Blair's vocal appreciation became higher pitched and his legs squirmed.

Jim gripped Blair's buttocks and parted them.

When Blair moved toward his room the next morning to get dressed, coffee cup in hand, he realized he was having trouble meeting Jim's eyes.  He wasn't even sure why.  As he pulled on his clothes, he considered what a titillating and pleasurable thing Jim had done for him last night.  He was exhausted in a wonderful way this morning.  Also distracted.  It was difficult not to feel the memory of that determined tongue, licking his most intimate flesh.  Then there came a point when it had pushed in....

He couldn't think about this.  He had a class to teach and today's curriculum called for him to stand up and give a lecture.  No hiding behind his desk.

Blair pulled on the jeans he felt like wearing, but some part of his mind insisted he should opt for the looser khakis, or he'd be sorry. No, these feel more comfortable.  All the more reason to put last night out of his mind.

His hair was dry enough to pull into a reasonably neat ponytail, which rested over his flannel shirt.  He picked up his coffee cup and emerged back into the dining area, his eyes automatically lowering as Jim, standing at the island, met them with a smile.

"A bit bashful this morning, are we?" Jim said in a soft voice.

Blair shrugged, not knowing how to talk about it.  Not really wanting to.  Just wanting to remember....

"I've missed your chatter lately," Jim informed him.  Not complaining.  Just stating fact.

Blair gazed at the surface of the dining table, which some orange slices and a bagel with a light spread were placed upon.  His "hurry up" breakfast that Jim had prepared.  As he sat down, he had to admit that he had been quiet lately.  It certainly wasn't by design.  It's just that he'd never before.....

"You're sort of cute when you're being shy," Jim said, moving to stand next to the table, sipping his coffee.

Blair almost wished Jim would leave him alone.  Almost.  Being the constant center of attention was somewhat unnerving.  Was it a normal thing for couples to talk about what they did the night before?  He never had with his dates.  But then, there weren't very many with which he had stayed to wake up with the next morning.

On the other hand, there seemed something not quite right about him keeping his thoughts to himself, when his thoughts were completely on their pleasure -- pleasure he couldn't imagine having with anyone else but Jim.

"I don't mean to be quiet," Blair finally muttered, reaching for the bagel with lowered eyes.  He took a bite and didn't try to swallow before admitting, "Last night... can't stop thinking about it."  Surely, Jim would understand he meant it in a good way.

Blair couldn't see Jim's expression because he wouldn't glance up.  But Jim moved to him, placed his hand on Blair's back, rubbed in a large, slow circle.  "New experience for you?" he asked is a delicate whisper.

Blair gulped down the bite of bagel.  Sure, Jim.  Like, with past dates, I've said, "Hey, you wouldn't mind licking my butt hole, would you?  It won't be gross or anything.  You'll like it.  I promise."  Jim had certainly seemed to like it.  When Jim had finally stopped and Blair realized his gasping breaths, pounding heart, and raw throat meant he was still amongst the living, he had eagerly responded to Jim's prompting and taken Jim's generous girth into his mouth.  Jim had felt so hard, so turned on by what he'd done to Blair.

Jim sat down.  His hand moved to Blair's cheek.  He rubbed there with the backs of his fingers.  "I want to know everything about you."

Blair tried to eat his orange slices, Jim's tender hand on his cheek, while wondering what Jim meant exactly.  Did Jim mean knowing him physically?  Or did he mean know all about his past, such as what he had and hadn't done in bed with others?

"I feel I have a right," Jim said more firmly, though his tone wasn't demanding.  He pulled his hand back.

Blair swallowed harshly, feeling the orange slice finally go down.  He had to look at Jim now, because he himself was nodding.  Yes, he wanted Jim to feel he had the right.  Even though he wasn't completely sure what Jim meant, he offered, "I want you to feel you have the right to ask me anything."  Is it possible that we could somehow end up even closer than we are right now?  He couldn't conceive of that.

Jim gazed at him so lovingly that Blair realized he had a question.  "Did you know it would be like this between us?"  He tried another bite of bagel while keeping his eyes on Jim.

A brief head shake, a bit of a shy smile lighting Jim's mouth.  "I didn't know anything.  I never gave myself a chance to think very far ahead.  I just knew that I wanted to be with you, once I allowed myself to stop thinking it wasn't in your own best interest."

Blair dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.  "I still wonder sometimes if I'm going to mess this up."  

Jim shook his head.  "You can't mess it up, Chief.  There's no throwing you back.  You're here to stay.  I'm here to stay."

Blair felt his throat tighten.  Jim could say the most beautiful things.  Yet...  "I feel so happy.  And so scared.  Like there's this big joke on me, only I don't know it yet.  I don't know if I'll be able to survive it when I find out what the joke is."

"The joke is me, Chief," Jim said without pausing to think, his voice soft and calm.  "You doubt yourself because I kept undermining your feelings for me.  I made you feel that there must be something wrong with you for wanting to be with me."  He laid his hand on Blair's shoulder and squeezed.  "I caused you to doubt your lovability.  So ironic," he muttered, "because you're so easy to love."

Keep talking.  Blair grinned.

Jim put his hand on the table an inch from Blair's.  With lowered eyes, he mused, "I was worrying about the future, the same as you were.  It's when I decided to just... accept... that you were still going to be here thirty years from now that the worry went away."  Blair was compelled by the openness of Jim's blue eyes.  "Maybe you could feel more certain if you accept that I'm a part of every thought you'll ever have about what's ahead."

Blair appreciated that.  But, "You make it sound so easy."  He stroked the hand on the table.

"For me it was.  Like a big weight lifted from my shoulders."  Jim took two of Blair's fingers and tugged them.

Two of Blair's fingers circled around Jim's, and he gazed at their intertwined digits for a long time.  "I've never been able to think in terms of somebody else always being there.  There was my mom, but I always knew that I'd have to leave the nest one day and would have to depend on myself, rather than upon her.  In a lot of ways, I got an early start on depending on myself."  His gaze lowered.  He'd never thought of it in that way before.

Jim shifted in his chair, moving his hand so he could lay it on Blair's arm.  "It's hard to let go of that, isn't it?  To allow yourself to count on somebody else being there."

Blair nodded.  Yes.  One couldn't go against a lifetime pattern from wishful thinking alone.

"I've been there," Jim pointed out.  "Maybe that's one reason it took me so long to realize that you didn't want to go anywhere.  How could I keep my independence and let you be there for me, always?"  He glanced away.  "Maybe that was another reason Carolyn and I couldn't make it work."

"You're making it work now," Blair said, not wanting Jim to deprecate himself.  "The only problem here is on my end.  And," he suddenly felt bashful again, lowering his gaze, "I wouldn't really call it a problem, but just getting used to a new way of seeing things." He swallowed, looking up again.  "Almost like I have a new, wonderful skin, and I'm still getting used to how it fits."  He made himself hold Jim's gaze, even as his voice softened.  "But it does fit.  I'm just not accustomed to things fitting that well."  He smiled happily, wanting very much to get used to the idea that, this time, the fit was perfect.  

Jim gazed at him with a wry smile.  Then he nudged Blair's cheek.  "Time to roll."

Blair picked up his saucer and placed it on the counter, then followed Jim to the coat rack.  They were going in separate cars because Blair had to be at Rainier, but he liked leaving the loft together, even though he didn't need to leave for another twenty minutes.

Jim reached to open the door and Blair wrapped him in a hug, which felt bulky because of their fall clothing.  "I love you, man."  He rested against Jim.  "I love so much that you're mine."

Jim hugged Blair back, then opened the door.

Two mornings later, Jim gently slapped at Blair to get him out of the bed.  "You shower first.  We have to go to the PD because we left your car there."  

"Oh, yeah," Blair muttered, staggering out of bed.

Jim rolled over while listening to Blair trudge down the stairs.  No reason for him not to grab a few more minutes of shut-eye before putting on the coffee.

A moment later, he was awakened by a frantic, "Oh, God!"

Jim pushed himself up.

"Oh, God," Blair cried again.  "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God."

Jim launched out of bed and barreled down the stairs, expecting to find Blair bleeding or --

His senses were already reaching out to define the danger, but all they tapped into was Blair's racing heart and high-pitched swearing.  "What is it?" he demanded, finding Blair crouched before the aquarium, peering into the water.

Jim followed Blair's gaze, expecting to find all the fish dead.  But they weren't.  "What happened?  What is it?"  

"Oh, God, look," Blair pointed.  "The tank is full of disease."

"What?" Jim peered closer.  "They look fine."

"Look!" Blair insisted, pointing to a larger one that swam by.  "Can't you see the white corpuscle sticking out of its head?"  Blair rushed toward his room.  "I've got to find my printout on this."

Jim peered closer and dialed up sight.  Ick.  Gross.  A white... thing. .. was sticking out of the front of the fish's head.  He looked at the other fish.  Some had dough-like white spots on their bodies.

Damn.  It would be a real bummer if all the fish died.  Amazing that they all were still swimming around, as though they were healthy.

Blair returned, breathing harshly, a stapled set of papers in his hand.  The top page was flipped over.  "Here," he said, shoving it at Jim, "start reading this on Ich while I find the medication."  He flung open the cabinets beneath the aquarium.

"Ick?"  Jim asked.  He saw a section heading on a mutli-syllabled name which read "common name:  Ich, pronounced 'Ick'."

"Yeah," Blair said from where his head was partially inside the cabinet while he rummaged through bottles and boxes.  "It's some kind of parasite or something."

Jim read the little background.  Yes, it was some kind of parasite.  Then there was a step-by-step cure.  He chuckled as he read the first one.  "You've already violated rule number one, Chief."

Blair straightened with a box in his hand.  "What's that?" he asked breathlessly.

"Don't panic."

Blair wasn't amused.  "Jim, we've got to do something."  He opened the little box and took out a bottle.  "I read on the internet that this was really good stuff for curing Ich."

Jim grimaced.  "These fish look too far gone.  They got those corpuscles all over their bodies."  He really could see them now.  Every fish had them.

"Gotta try," Blair said while reading the back of the bottle.

"They're just... fish," Jim reasoned.

Blair looked up at him.  "Jim, I'm responsible for them.  They're in an artificial environment and it's my responsibility to see to their needs.  Besides, if you had a worm sticking out of your forehead, wouldn't you want somebody to do something about it?"

Well, okay, Blair had a point.

Blair opened the lid of the aquarium.  "One drop per gallon," he muttered.  "Jim, remove the carbon filters, or they'll filter out the medicine before it has a chance to work."

Yes, Chief Sandburg.  Jim moved to the carbon filter cartridge on the first of four bubblers.  The cartridges hadn't needed to be changed yet, so he was hesitant until he figured out how to pop them off.

Blair was sprinkling drops of medicine into the tank, counting beneath his breath.  Then he put the bottle aside and swirled the water around with his hand.  "This will probably kill the plants."

Doubtfully, Jim asked, "Do you really think that stuff is going to work?"

"I hope so," Blair said, finally calming down.  "The experienced fishkeepers on the internet swear by it."

Jim looked at the fish again.  "I don't know.  They seem so pitiful, like that white gunk is going to take over their whole bodies."

Blair stared at the tank, shoulders sagging.  "I wish there was more we could do, but we aren't supposed to add more medicine until tomorrow.  And then we need to do a twenty-five percent water change and then do more medicine for the next two days and then another water change after that."  He sighed.  "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

It would be pretty depressing if they lost the whole tank of fish.  On the other hand....  "You know, Chief, this might be a blessing in disguise."

Blair looked at him in alarm.  "What?"

Jim shrugged.  "If we end up moving to Spokane, how are we going to move the aquarium?"

Blair's gaze returned to the tank.  After a long moment, he said, "I never thought about that."

"It would be impossible with the water in it, it would be so heavy," Jim mused.  "So, we'd have to drain almost all the water out. Maybe move the fish to buckets.  And then fill the aquarium back up with water once we get there.  The water chemistry in Spokane will probably be different from the Cascade water that they're used to."  Pleased with his own logic, he concluded, "It might be a blessing in disguise if we lose them all.  We'd just have to start over."

"Man, Jim," Blair said, still watching the fish, "I don't want to lose them.  That one right there," he pointed, "has doubled in size since we got him."

"I know.  I'm just saying that there might be a bright side to this, if this Ich disease kills them all."

Blair rubbed his eyes.  "I don't think I'm in the mood for thoughts of karma right now."

Jim squeezed Blair's robed shoulder.  "Go on and shower.  There's nothing more we can do here."

Blair nodded glumly and turned toward the bathroom.

Blair rolled his head around and around, trying to loosen his neck, as the elevator made its slow ascent to the third floor.  He was exhausted.  He'd spent most of the day in Spokane, undertaking an extensive interrogation by some dozen different people.  Some were workers he would be overseeing, but others were higher-ups within the state bureaucracy, as well as the Native American community, who grilled him with questions about his background, experience, and ideas for the future of the Center.  Though Blair had felt more confident about the salary situation after going through some rehearsals with a professor at Rainier, it turned out to be only a tiny part of the day's final meeting with the current director.  In answer to what he wanted, Blair had said he "required" a hundred grand a year and left it at that.  The director had merely nodded and said they would call in a few days to let him know if he'd been chosen or not.  Jim had already pointed out on the phone, when Blair checked in, that their acceptance of Blair would include a counteroffer which would be quite a bit lower and which Blair could counter yet again, and so on, until a satisfactory middle ground was reached for both sides

Blair was still wearing his suit.  He'd been anxious to get home and hadn't bothered to change.  Now, he just wanted a hot shower and to cuddle up with his beloved.

He smiled.  So wonderful to know that there was a beloved waiting for him these days.

The rest of my life.  Such an amazing thought.

The elevator opened.  Not just thought.  Reality.

He walked off.  This is real.  Me and Jim.  Forever.

A giddiness rose up as he came to #307.  It opened with Jim smiling in the doorway.  

"Hey," Jim greeted, reaching for him.

Blair was more than eager to receive the kiss bestowed upon his lips.  He laughed a little when Jim pulled back, then he groaned, "I'm beat."  He started unbuttoning his dress shirt.  "Undress.  Shower.  Snuggle."

The phone rang.

"Sounds good," Jim said, reaching for the cordless.  "Ellison."  Jim's voice went flat  "Dad.  How are you doing?"

Blair undressed outside the doorway of his room while listening.

"Uh... yeah, Dad," Jim was saying.  "I'll have to check with Blair, but I'll let you know as soon as I know."

Blair stepped out of his slacks, laying them on the back of a chair.

"I doubt it'll be a problem," Jim went on.  "But I'll check with Blair then let you know for sure."  Awkward pause.  "Uh, yeah, I'm looking forward to it.  I'll be back in touch."  He clicked off.

Blair was down to his boxers and an undershirt.  He released his hair from its band.  "What did he say?"

"He wants to take us to a nice dinner next Thursday evening."  Jim's tone was carefully neutral.

"Both of us?"  Blair picked up his pants to fold them at the creases.

"Yeah."  Jim came to stand next to the table, his hand on the back of a chair.  "It wasn't like, 'Blair's welcome to come along if he wants.'  Instead, it was like, 'I'd like to take you two out to dinner.'"

"Tina must have told him."  That made things easier at least.

"I sort of got the feeling there was something he wanted to say but didn't know how to say."

Blair draped his slacks back over the chair.  "He must be okay with it, huh?"

"Hard to say.  What's he going to do at this point?  All he has left is me and Sally."  Jim smiled gently.  "Now you."

Blair smiled back.  "My calendar is clear for then.  What about you?"

Jim nodded, then his expression hardened as he looked at the clothes strung about the dining room table.  "Hey, Chief, this isn't going to be a habit.  Put this stuff where it belongs."

Blair chuckled and saluted, grabbing at the clothes.  "Yes, sir."

While Blair was in the shower, Jim sat back on the sofa, spreading his legs widely as he relaxed.  Afghan.  Pillow.  He clicked the remote so that CNN was on with Larry King Live scheduled next.  They were all ready for their TV watching.  He couldn't wait to have Blair relaxed across his lap, so he could rub up and down his companion's skin, letting his sensitive fingertips have their feel of Blair.

While waiting, he looked opposite the TV to gaze at the fish tank.  Blair had become obsessed with counting the fish, since they had found out that dead fish didn't necessarily rise to the top.  Somehow, the environment of the tank saw to their disposal, perhaps at the mouths of the other fish.  They had lost two to the Ich, the rest seemed to be actually recovering.  They still had another water change to do tomorrow and two more days of medication.  Then they could consider the problem licked.

When Blair emerged, he was wearing sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt.  He also held some items in his hand.  Smelling fresh from his shower, he straddled Jim's lap and put his free arm around Jim's neck.

Jim grinned at him, holding Blair loosely by the waist.  He realized, just then, how stupidly in love he was.

Blair's deep blue eyes met his as he held up a tube.  "I want you to brainwash me."

Jim looked at the tube.  It was lubricant.  He looked back a Blair and blinked, trying to compute how lubricant and brain could be applied to the same idea.

Blair said, "While you're rubbing me and petting me and loving me, I want you to play with me back there.  Just work on stretching me out.  Eventually, that area will associate your touch with warm, loving, pleasurable feelings.  Then I won't be afraid of you when... you know."   Even bashful, his eyes remained on Jim.

Jim returned the gaze as his genitals shifted around within his slacks.  He couldn't figure out what to say, so he leaned forward the short distance to kiss Blair, placing his hands on his face.

"Is that a yes?" Blair asked when they both pulled back.  He grinned affectionately.

Jim found words stuck in his throat, so he nodded.

Blair thrust the tube into Jim's hand and then let go of a tightly held latex glove.  "You might want to use this."  He hopped off Jim's lap and pushed his sweats down, revealing no underwear.

Jim tossed the glove aside.  What was the advantage of ultra-sensitive fingertips if he couldn't use them to get to know Blair's most intimate places?

Blair settled across Jim's lap, wriggling in a way that was distracting.  "Oh, man, I think you better get the afghan."

Jim saw little bumps rise up on Blair's rump.  He put his hand on the small of Blair's back and rubbed up beneath his shirt.  "I'll warm you up," he assured.

"Mmm," Blair approved, finally stilling.  He tilted his head to see the TV better.  "Who's on Larry King tonight?"

"They haven't said," Jim replied, not really knowing if they had or hadn't.  His eyes were on smooth pale skin and the dark crevice separating the hemispheres.  

He wasn't going to be watching TV tonight. 
 
 
END PART FOUR  

PART FIVE

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