Archive of Our Own ^beta

Not mine. Never will be. No copyright enfringement intended. No money made. But hopefully, it made someone smile.

My thanks to Lola for giving this a once over for me.
I found this story on my harddrive while looking for something else. I think I may have shared it with Senad once upon a time, but I don't remember. When I found it, it didn't strike me as hideous, so I thought I'd share it.

Detective James Ellison pulled his trusty steed into its parking space at the end of a very long and trying day.

Steed.

He chuckled to himself. He had called his beloved Ford Ranger a lot of things over the years, but steed was waxing poetic even for him.

It was all Rafe's fault.

After a successful stakeout where they had been able to save a young woman from a serial rapist, Rafe had gone on at length about how modern cops were the equivalent of the historical knights of old. The young detective had mused that there were several advantages to being a knight instead of being a cop as a knight would have the ultimate choice of punishment against the evil doers -- meaning he wanted to neuter their suspect in the most painful way possible instead of putting him through the legal system. Jim and Henri had teased Rafe about spending too much time with Sandburg, then finished writing their reports.

The tired detective pulled his keys from the ignition and locked the truck doors.

Of course, he thought as he jogged across the street, he felt more like Don Quixote than Lancelot. He seemed to spend more time tilting at windmills than he did actually bringing down criminals. The rational part of his mind tsked at this thought, but he was tired and cranky and so pushed everything else aside.

Where, he wondered as he began to climb the stairs, was his Guinevere or Dulcinea? Did he have a beautiful woman waiting for him, happy that he was home from another day of slaying dragons? No, he had a short, hairy academic, who was, in all likelihood, going to talk his ear off the second he walked in the door. He chuckled, thinking that he seemed to have picked up the wrong translation of the old myths - again.

He trotted up to the last landing and smiled appreciatively as the smell of lasagna wafted around him. Ah, who needed beautiful women to inspire him when he had an academic who could put Julia Child to shame? His smile grew bigger as he got a whiff of hamburger. Not vegetable lasagna. Not turkey sausage, but good old-fashioned, Grade A Prime Beef.

God bless hyper little grad students.

He unlocked the door to his castle and was surprised to find the loft quiet. He threw out his hearing and found the steady heartbeat of his roommate on the couch. Dropping his keys into the basket, he made a detour into the kitchen and peeked into the oven. The ancient timer on the counter indicated that it still had thirty-five minutes to cook. Someone, probably Joel, had called and given the kid a head's up.

Jim snagged a beer from the refrigerator and headed into the front room. The television was droning quietly about the plight of penguins in the Antarctic. He looked over the couch and noticed the blue books stacked neatly on the coffee table. So the kid had actually gotten them finished before -- he looked at his watch -- 9 p.m. He was impressed. Of course, Sandburg probably had three other deadlines going and would probably still be up until midnight.

Jim flopped down into one of the stuffed chairs before taking a deep swallow of beer, his eyes never leaving the student's sleeping form.

Blair was lying on his back lengthwise on the couch. Probably thought he'd catch a couple of minutes of sleep. The kid was definitely the king of cat naps. Blair's hands were resting on his chest, one over his heart, the other over his flat stomach. His loose hair framed his face, making him look so very young. Jim felt the day's stress slip away as he watched innocence sleep.

Innocence.

His sleeping beauty.

Jim smiled over that thought. Blair would no doubt pop him if ever dared to speak those words aloud. Not that there was anything remotely feminine about his guide. All one had to do was look at his large hands and evening stubble to push those sort of musings away; but there was an ethereal beauty to the grad student which couldn't be denied.

His Guinevere.

His Dulcinea.

The steady presence who inspired him to achieve more than he believed himself capable of. The one who believed in him no matter how dark the path became. The one who understood what drove him to tilt at windmills and slay the occasional dragon.

Jim swallowed hard as Blair's lips parted slightly in sleep, mesmerizing him, taunting him.

His sleeping beauty.

Weren't knights allowed the spoils of war? Weren't they allowed a token of affection after a long day of protecting the kingdom?

Jim put the bottle on the coffee table even as he knelt beside the couch. Blair never moved, as if sensing that his protector was near and realizing on the most subconscious of levels that he had nothing to worry about.

One kiss would no doubt wake his sleeping beauty, then they would live happily ever after. Jim snorted silently in amusement. It was more likely he was going to get popped in the solar plexus.

He licked his lips, wanting to taste the sweetness mere inches from him. He needed it, desperately.

Slowly, he leaned forward and gently brushed his lips over the lax lips. He didn't draw his head back when he was done, instead merely licked the corners of Blair's mouth. He brushed his lips over Blair's again as the younger man's breathing changed, indicating that he was rousing from sleep. Jim allowed himself a quick dip into Blair's mouth, reveling in the surprising softness he found there.

Surprise flowed through him as Blair moaned and drowsily returned the kiss. The grad student's hand pressed gently against Jim's chest, both hands sliding around his chest to his back. The roving hands stilled abruptly when they reached Jim's hair. Blair's eyes widened in shock.

"Here could I breathe my soul into the air, to have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth," Jim whispered over Blair's lips.

Blair frowned at him in confusion, but after a moment whispered, "Have we eaten on the insane root that takes the reason prisoner?"

"Nay." Jim kissed the younger man again. "By heaven I do love; and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be melancholy for I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in festive terms."

Blair's fingers twitched at the back of Jim's head as he grinned impishly. "If thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay, so thou wilt woo."

Jim leaned back slightly, placing Blair's right hand over his heart and whispered, "I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest."

Blair gasped at the quiet admission, the goofy smile disappearing quickly, his eyes filling with tears. "If I were now to die, 'twere now to be most happy; for I fear my soul hath its content so absolute that not another comfort like to this succeeds."

Jim inched forward slowly, and Blair leaned back into the couch, panting, awaiting the touch of his lips. Jim was moved by the exquisite surrender of his partner, sliding one hand under the rucked shirt and skimming lightly over his lover's chest.

"Mine," he growled ever so softly.

"For as long as you'll have me," the promise was returned between nibbles on his lips.

"Forever."

"Okay."

Jim could feel the corners of Blair's mouth turn upward.

"Dinner will be ready any second," Blair informed him before delving his own tongue into Jim's mouth.

Jim pulled back slightly. "Ah, but love at the lips was touched as sweet as I could bear; and if that ever seems too much, I'll live on air."

Blair waggled his eyebrows at him. "But it's beef lasagna."

Jim shrugged teasingly. "Well, then, dinner it is."

Blair's joyful laughter rang around the loft as Jim pulled him into his arms once again.

• End -

My apologies to the following misquotes: 2 Henry VI, III, 2
MacBeth, I, 3
Love's Labour's Lost IV, 3/Much Ado About Nothing, V, 2 Romeo and Juliet, II, 2
Much Ado About Nothing, IV, 1
Othello, II, 1
To Earthward by Robert Frost

End Apologies to Shakespeare by Dolimir: [email protected]

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