Archive of Our Own ^beta

nothing to do with my previous universe.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money, don't sue.

Rated: NC-17

Notes: * surrounds thoughts, ** indicates underlining

Crossroads

by Taylor Collins

Plastic on the furniture. Where the hell had that come from? Not even his grandmother had plastic on the furniture. Jim dropped his gym bag by the door and tossed his keys into the basket on the table. He could hear Sandburg talking in his room and tried to tune it out. For some reason he could always hear Blair, even when he didn't want to. Jim glanced at the living room, it was exactly as he'd left it. Good. Jim appreciated order, a place for everything and everything in its place.

Blair's voice buzzed in the background and Jim headed upstairs to shower and change. Keeping the place clean was not an unreasonable request and Sandburg seemed to understand that. This was his loft after all and he made the rules.

Blair was still talking when Jim got out of the shower but it no longer sounded like a phone conversation; it sounded like a list. Jim focused and heard, "laptop, sweats, notebooks, discs.... Okay, man, I think that's it."

The reference to clothes struck Ellison as odd and he finished dressing to head downstairs. Blair's large suitcase was next to the couch and Jim froze at the sight.

Sandburg walked into the living room, backpack slung over one shoulder. "Oh hey, Jim, glad you're here." He pointed to the fridge and said, "I left you a note, I didn't think you'd get home before I left. I've got emergency house sitting duties. Denise and Todd Woodhams' parents were in some kind of car accident in Milwaukee and they're flying out today to do whatever they can until one or the other gets out of the hospital."

"And their house won't survive without them?"

Blair took that to mean the younger Woodhams' home. "It's not the house so much as their pets. They've got three animals that need attention as well as food and water. The Addams' like me so I was the first Todd called."

"Whoa, Chief, you lost me. Addams'?"

"Gomez, the Rottweiller, Pugsley the iguana, and Wednesday a cockateil."

"What, no Morticia?"

"She's gone to the great web in the sky." Blair held his hands about three inches apart. "Tarantula. Can't say I grieved."

Jim looked at the luggage, for Blair it was a lot. "How long will you be gone?"

"Not sure. Four days at least. Maybe a week." He pointed at the fridge. "The address and phone number's right there. I'm available whenever you need me. Like always." He glanced out the window. "I gotta get there before it rains. Wet dog is not my favorite smell."

Jim nodded slowly. "Yeah. Get going. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yup. One p.m. at the station." Blair reshouldered his backpack and grabbed the large suitcase and laptop. "Later."

"See ya."

The door closed behind Sandburg and Jim realized he was focusing on the note. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore it as he went for a beer. It wasn't like he **needed** Sandburg. Even though this last trip to Peru had spooked him, Jim felt that he had a handle on his hyper senses, unlike when they'd first appeared.

So. He was going to have the loft to himself for a few days. It would make a nice change, he'd be able to restore a bit of order and routine to the place. Though now that he thought about it, Blair had taken to spending most of his free time in his room with the door closed.

The door had been Jim's idea, all the better to dilute the noise that Sandburg could generate. But to really accomplish that Jim would've had to install sound proof windows. He smiled at the whimsy; Blair wouldn't appreciate the thought.

Blair knew he shouldn't be looking forward to something that was based on misfortune but he couldn't help it. The prospect of having a whole house to himself was very tempting. It'd been hard going from 10,000 square feet to 90 square feet with no warning or preparation.

Ever since Jim's house rules lecture he'd made it a point to keep all of his things in his room at all times. Oh, he might work in the living room, but not when Jim was home, he was careful about that now.

The loft didn't really didn't seem like home anymore. For a while he really thought that he and Jim were getting along, finding common interests, actually developing a friendship. But now he wasn't so sure. Jim seemed to be even more assertive than when they'd first met and that scared Blair. Maybe Jim was gearing up to tell him to move out. That lecture on order made it clear that Blair was a guest in Jim's house. An intruder tolerated for his usefulness.

Unless, of course, Jim decided to stop the sentinel studies altogether but Blair dismissed that thought immediately. Especially after Peru, Jim's attitude about his hyper senses had changed for the better. He was more willing to try and use them, fighting Blair less over exercises designed to give him control. Then again, Blair could just hear Jim's reasoning, the more control he got, the less he'd need his guide. Blair ran a hand over his hair, pushing it back. This was stupid; he was only depressing himself.

A light drizzle began to fall and Blair turned on the windshield wipers for the last block to Todd's. He made sure Gomez knew who he was before going into the back yard to get the spare keys from the doghouse. He let Gomez into the garage then ran back to his car for his luggage.

But he couldn't stop speculating. Jim acted like his best friend one minute and a drill sergeant the next. He always tried to protect him on the job but lately kept volunteering Blair into more potentially dangerous situations.

Maybe Jim was trying to get him to leave on his own? Or stop following him on the job? *Our relationship is strictly academic.* That had felt like a slap in the face. At first Blair had dismissed it as Jim's way of avoiding the conversation but over time the more literal meaning seemed true.

Blair left his laptop and papers in the den then dumped the rest of his stuff in the master bedroom. Gomez followed him as he walked the house, reacquainting himself with the layout and checking the fridge for food. Neither Denise or Todd liked to cook so Blair made a shopping list for the morning.

It kept him from thinking about James Ellison for all of about five minutes. Blair knew he was going to have to make a decision soon. To continue like nothing was wrong hurt more every day. He considered confronting Jim but if the man gave him one more lecture instead of having a conversation.... Well, the argument that followed would most likely decide things for him.

Blair ran his fingers through his hair and caught sight of last Friday's exams. They needed to be graded so Blair settled into the couch glad to be focusing on something else.

Blair walked into Major Crimes greeting the detectives who acknowledged him. He knew quite a few by name and was more than a little surprised that they accepted his presence there. Jim wasn't at his desk so Blair sat down and scanned the work in progress. The case they were wrapping up was on the computer screen and Blair automatically began to edit it. He heard Jim and Simon approaching so he saved the changes and leaned back in the chair.

"Sandburg," Simon said in greeting, "How goes the house sitting?"

"Can't complain."

"Glad to hear it."

Blair shook his head as Simon went into his office. The captain was harder to figure out than Jim.

"Come on, we've got a date with the coroner."

"What? I thought we were done with that."

"We are." Ellison led the way through the corridors. "Detail work."

Blair didn't pretend to understand. He was learning more about police procedure and how one circumvented it legally than he ever cared to know.

The rest of the day was spent following Jim around and helping to come up with plausible ways for what Jim had learned using his hyper senses to be acceptable in a police report. In most cases it involved information any other detective would've found, just not so immediately.

Blair stretched and looked at the time, nearly five thirty. "Hey Jim, it's getting late. I gotta get home."

Jim met his eyes. "What are you talkin' about? It's not even five thirty, we don't have to rush outta here."

"You may not but I do. Either Denise or Todd are home by six to feed Gomez. I said I'd keep to the routine. It makes for a happier animal."

"Can't disappoint the dog," Jim said, not looking at Blair.

Sandburg gave him a look and said, "So we're on for Thursday, right?"

"Yeah. I'm working a bust tomorrow. Unless you wanna cool your jets in the truck."

"As tempting as that offer is, I've got two classes as you well know." He gave Jim a slap on the back, shouldered his pack and left.

Home. The word echoed in Jim's mind. When Blair had said it, Jim assumed he'd meant the loft. The realization that he hadn't had sent a shock through his system. He tried to ignore it but climbing into the truck and not seeing Blair in the passenger seat only intensified it.

Jim shook his head and put the truck in gear; he was being stupid. Sandburg was not in on every case and in all honesty Jim didn't want him to be. The hyper senses were useful but not essential to solving crime. He didn't need them to be a good cop.

But he had needed the enhanced senses in Peru; had, in fact, been relying on them to give him an edge in finding Daryl and Simon. And when they hadn't worked Jim couldn't decide how to feel about it. In the end he'd chosen to keep them mostly because he knew they could help him but also because he'd grown used to them. When he was in control he couldn't deny they were assets.

But being in control usually meant having Blair Sandburg beside him. He wondered sometimes where he'd be if Blair hadn't entered his life. He'd been questioning his sanity before going in for tests and when the doctors had found nothing physically wrong it reinforced his fear. That fear sent him to the University and had kept him listening to Blair Sandburg even though the last thing the kid looked was credible. Yet Sandburg had proven himself time and again, usually to Jim's amazement. He'd never wanted a partner after Jack, even before Jack, but Blair was different; he wasn't a cop, wasn't in competition with him.

No, Blair had a different motivation, his doctorate. It colored everything they did, hell it was the reason they'd met in the first place; the only reason they ever would have met. But to Jim's surprise they found interests to share beyond the project, developed a friendship. Yet Sandburg never forgot the reason they knew each other and as much as Jim admired the dedication, it irritated the hell out of him. Reminded him that he was the subject of a research study. He wasn't comfortable with that, with being watched, always being observed. He knew it was as much for his benefit as Sandburg's but knowing it intellectually didn't stop the way he felt.

Jim examined the contents of the freezer and pulled out a package of pork chops. In less than ten minutes he had the makings of dinner sizzling away. Routine took him through the meal and wash up. Jim stretched out on the couch with the latest Tom Clancy novel, looking forward to an evening of uninterrupted peace and quiet.

Nearly half a bowl of cheese popcorn later Jim put the book down. Something was wrong. He sat still, cataloging his surroundings, trying to determine the source of his unease. Without conscious thought Jim found himself looking at Blair's dark bedroom. That was it; that's what was missing. No muted music or rustling of paper. No herbal scented shampoo or quiet susurration of breath. No Blair.

Now that he thought about it, Jim realized just how much of a background Blair provided, voluntarily or not. And how much the lack of it bothered him. Jim dragged his eyes back to the book; he was going to enjoy the solitude. It was a rare and precious thing these days.

But determining the source of his unease did little to alleviate it. He couldn't seem to stop listening for sounds that weren't there or searching for movement when there was none. Jim stared at the same page until it was nothing more than fiber stained with dark ink. Damn. Jim blinked and glanced at his watch. Not exactly a zone but not something he cared to repeat. With a sigh he marked his place, shut off the lights, and went upstairs.

Ellison took up his position, listening to the orders flowing through the receiver in his ear. This wasn't his bust but he had been conscripted as backup. Jim scanned the converted farmhouse but the windows were blacked over and he could see nothing. He tried using his hearing but couldn't manage it without getting blasted by the receiver. So Jim held his post, waiting for them to get on with it, feeling, perversely, useless.

Which was dumb. He didn't need his sentinel abilities to be effective. But that didn't stop his sense of smell from opening without conscious volition. Pine and grass predominated but Jim could also detect the officers spread out for the raid by their own urban and human scents. He pushed them away only to be confronted once again by the fragrance of nature.

Jim took a deep breath intent on clearing his head but the effect was dizzying as a multitude of scents assaulted him. *Stupid.* He tried breathing shallowly and concentrated on turning the sense down but it didn't seem to be working. At least not fast enough. Maybe using another sense would bring this one to heel. Jim opened his eyes wide and saw only swirls of color and light. Panic gripped him and he blinked furiously trying to force order out of chaos. Jim lost track of time as images slowly took shape and resolved themselves into recognizable forms.

The farmhouse was where he'd left it only now it was swarming with riot-gear-clad officers. The raid was over.

Jim swore under his breath. He hadn't lost control like that since the cold medicine farce. Hell, he'd zoned on the whole raid.

"Ellison!" Simon's voice barked in his ear and Jim winced. "Ellison, where the hell are you?!"

"In the woods within sight of the farmhouse, sir," Jim answered. "Have they all been apprehended?" He felt like an idiot for asking but he had to know.

"Yeah," Simon didn't shout this time. "Get your butt up here."

"Yes, sir." Jim swore again. This wouldn't've happened with Sandburg here. Hell, the kid seemed to know instinctively when he was losing it. But it was a moot point; Sandburg had other commitments and Jim hadn't really wanted him along on this. It hadn't seemed necessary.

Jim turned over his riot gear, checked in with Simon - who was fortunately too busy to grill Jim on the spot - and caught a ride with a couple of uniforms back to the precinct. He was in a foul mood the rest of the afternoon and stuck to paperwork to avoid biting anyone's head off. The prospect of going home to an empty loft darkened his mood.

When in the hell had Sandburg become such a fixture in his life? Just because they were roommates didn't mean they had to be in each other's pockets. But it was more than that. The sentinel thing bound them closer than Jim ever wanted to be with someone. Hell, he'd spent more time apart from Carolyn when they were married. Which could explain the divorce, Jim thought wryly. He shook his head as the sound of the door closing echoed through the loft.

Jim investigated the contents of the fridge. Two small red containers caught his eye. Whatever was in there wasn't going to last a week. Carefully turning down his sense of smell, Jim upended the contents into the disposal and flipped the switch. He filled the containers with water and left them in the sink, deciding to make a goulash out of yesterday's pork chops.

Jim caught sight of Blair's darkened room and absently wondered what the young man was doing. Now this **was** stupid. He should be enjoying the solitude, the silence, not worrying at it. The idea startled him. Blair had been getting on his nerves so much lately that missing him just hadn't seemed like an option. Yet here he was doing exactly that.

Jim sighed and left the dishes to air dry. He grabbed a second beer and took a long pull. Blair was just house-sitting for a while, not moving to South America. *And what happens when he gets his doctorate?* Jim put the brakes on that line of thought; he did **not** want to go there. It was like predicting the end of their friendship.

Jim sank into the couch and tried to work the kink out of his neck. He and Sandburg were fine; they each knew what they wanted from the other and if Blair didn't live up to his expectations, well, Jim would just tell him, like he'd laid down the law about the house rules.

The phone rang but Jim didn't move. He let the machine pick it up; Simon wanted him in his office first thing. He'd been expecting that. It would be embarrassing but not fatal. Jim finished his beer and idly turned the bottle around in his hands. But what if the perps had headed straight for him or fired in his direction? They could've gotten away, he could've been injured, killed. Or gotten someone else killed. Jim's stomach knotted with tension.

Okay, maybe not under these circumstances but there was always a next time. He had to be one hundred percent on the job. Always.

Maybe if he could get the time back, be able to tell Simon that he was aware of the raid and knew it wasn't necessary for him to go in then he could get away with less of a lecture. He was kidding himself and he knew it. But he did want the time back.

Maybe he could get it back the same way they'd retrieved Jack's phone message. Jim set the bottle down, closed his eyes and did the breathing as Blair had taught him. When he thought about the afternoon, all he could get was the numbing sensation that happened when he zoned and Jim quickly opened his eyes, not wanting it to happen again.

Jim tried one more time, if he could manage the pain he should be able to do this. But it wasn't working. He couldn't separate the zone out from memory and not feel like it was happening now. Great. He had to tell Sandburg about this. Jim didn't look forward to it.

The meeting with Simon went better than he'd expected. *Stop trying to use your damn senses all the time. I don't care what Sandburg thinks, it's not necessary. You're a good cop, focus on that. Now get outta here.* Jim got and collared Blair before Simon could lay eyes on him. "Come on, Chief, I've got a project for us."

Blair's eyes lit with interest and he let himself be steered into the elevator. "What's up, man?"

Jim just shook his head and waited until they were in the truck before answering. "We need to go to the lab."

Blair looked incredulous. "You feelin' okay, Jim?"

"Ha, ha, Sandburg."

Blair smiled briefly before asking, "What happened?"

Jim's grip tightened on the steering wheel. No point postponing the inevitable. "I zoned during the bust. Lost ten maybe fifteen minutes. I was hoping we could get it back, like we did with Jack's message."

Blair nodded. "What sense did you zone on?"

Jim wouldn't look at him. "Sight. And smell."

"**And**?" Blair put a hand on his arm. "What the hell happened?"

Jim shrugged not letting go of the steering wheel. "It was weird. Like my senses were determined to do something even though I didn't need them to." He risked a glance at Sandburg as he parked the truck. Blair had that familiar look of concentration, the one that reminded Jim that he was a research project. It irritated him and he didn't try to talk over the wind and rain.

Neither did Sandburg but once they were in the lab Blair said, "Okay, Jim, from the top."

Ellison began pacing as he hesitantly explained what had happened. He looked anywhere except at Blair and finished with, "It didn't feel like a zone at the time but when I tried to remember past it there was nothing." He stopped moving and crossed his arms waiting for some sort of admonishment or lecture.

Blair only nodded and said, "Have a seat and let's see what we can do."

Jim sat and closed his eyes without being told. He heard Blair make himself comfortable on the low table in front of him. Ellison half smiled, wondering if Blair would ever learn to use furniture as God intended.

"Right," Blair's voice was quiet and calm, "Just relax, breathe slow and deep."

Jim followed Blair's instructions, amazed at how easy it was for him to do so. He'd seen hypnotists at work and Blair's technique was remarkably similar. Was this a form of hypnosis? Jim didn't like that idea though Blair always reminded him that he was in charge and that it was up to him to make the exercises work.

"Hey, man, you're not paying attention," Blair's voice penetrated his thoughts. "What's the problem?"

Jim shook his head and met Blair's questioning gaze. "No problem, Chief. I was just tryin' to figure out why I couldn't get this to work on my own."

Blair blinked and pushed a stray lock of hair out of the way. "Maybe you kept getting distracted. Like now."

Jim frowned at him.

"You're the one who wanted to do this," Blair reminded him then leaned forward to slap Jim on the knee. "This is all about concentration, Jim. The ability to focus on one thing to the exclusion of all else. Kinda like a controlled zone out."

"Yeah, Sandburg, I get it." Jim sighed, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm focusing."

"All right then." Blair resettled himself and Jim heard him push his hair behind his ears. "Relax. Deep breaths. Let the tension flow from your body."

Jim felt himself relax, allowing him tighter focus on Blair's voice. The events leading up to the raid filled his mind's eye only now he could sense Sandburg somewhere close behind him making suggestions, giving instructions. It was an oddly comforting feeling and together they worked past the chaos of Jim's senses to reconstruct the raid.

Jim took a deep breath and opened his eyes; he felt completely relaxed and gave one of his rare soft smiles. "Wow," he said quietly. "That was something."

Blair returned the smile. "Yes, it was." He stood and stretched. "I'm just glad it worked."

"I couldn't have done it without you, Chief," Jim said, slapping Blair on the back. "I know, I tried."

"Thanks," Blair said, making some coffee. "It's nice to know you tried though. The more control you get the less chance you'll zone out on me."

"Anything to make your life easier, Sandburg," Jim said with playful sarcasm.

"I'm serious, Jim," Blair handed him a cup. "I can't watch your back twenty-four hours a day and I know you use your sentinel abilities off the job as well."

Jim shrugged in agreement, suddenly feeling defensive. He'd been wanting to talk to Blair about the kid's plans - how far his thesis had progressed, when it'd be finished, what he'd do next, how long he intended to stick around. But now that the opportunity presented itself, Jim didn't want to hear the answers.

"Any word on when you're house-sitting gig ends?" Jim asked instead.

"Miss me, big guy?" Blair teased.

Jim made a face. "Just wondering how much longer peace will reign."

Blair tilted his head and stuck out his tongue. "Three more days, unless otherwise notified." He slapped Jim on the back. "Better make the most of it, man."

"I intend to," Jim answered solemnly.

Blair laughed and hit the lights before locking the door.

The deep throated barking started as soon as Jim pushed the bell followed by Blair's voice, "That you, Jim?"

"Yeah, open up. I'm gettin' soaked."

The door swung wide to reveal Blair in stockinged feet, a cockateil on his right shoulder and left hand holding the collar of one of the largest Rottweiller's Jim had ever seen. The rain pounding into his back lost its importance.

Blair backed up, drawing the growling dog with him. "Sit. Stay," he said firmly. "Jim's a friend, be quiet." The dog went silent and Blair looked at Jim who hadn't moved. "Come in, I'll introduce you."

Ellison stepped into the hall and Blair closed the door behind him. "Jim, this is Gomez. Gomez, Jim. He's a friend," Blair repeated. "Let him smell your hand." Jim extended his arm and let the dog get his scent. "Good boy," Blair praised. He took the Chinese food away from Jim and said, "Follow me." He tapped his thigh and Gomez followed them into the den. "The kitchen's through here; I'll get the plates. Want a beer?"

"Yeah." Jim eyed the dog before looking around the well-lived room. Papers were strewn over a coffee table and Jim recognized Blair's laptop on the couch next to an iguana which was perched on the armrest. Blair handed him the beer then moved the bird to its perch by the couch. "When did you become Dr. Doolittle?" Jim asked, filling his plate.

"Very funny," Blair said, taking his own meal to the couch. Wednesday came over to investigate and Blair produced a handful of nuts to distract her.

Jim sat in the chair, watching Sandburg deal with the animals as if they were his own. Gomez certainly seemed to like him, lying nearly on his feet. Blair never mentioned having any pets and the only other animal Jim could remember seeing him with was Larry, the Barbary ape. But Larry had been a research project which brought to mind the sentinel studies and Jim frowned at the comparison.

"No, seriously, Sandburg, how'd you get to be so good with animals?"

Blair shrugged, "Since we moved around a lot I couldn't have any pets of my own so I ended up 'adopting' the neighbor's." He shrugged again and popped half an egg roll in his mouth. "Maybe they felt sorry for me, I don't know, but I did learn how to take care of an amazing array of pets."

Jim nodded and finished the last pork bun. He couldn't seem to stop watching Sandburg. The young man appeared right at home in a place where he'd lived less than two days. In fact, Blair seemed more relaxed here than Jim had seen in a long time. Jim frowned again and tore his eyes from Blair. That thought bothered him but before he could chase down why, Sandburg spoke.

"It's bedtime," Blair announced, putting his plate on the paper laden coffee table. He encouraged Wednesday onto his fingers.

"Oh, the animals," Jim said, watching Blair give the bird a final neck scratch before placing her in her cage.

Blair shot him a look. "Very funny." He picked up Pugsley who immediately climbed to a shoulder. "Where's **his** cage?"

Blair smiled. "He has his own room. It's easier for climate control and let's him exercise whenever he wants."

Jim shook his head then stood to carry his dirty dishes into the kitchen. He grabbed Blair's on the way inadvertently sending most of the paper onto the floor. Jim gave a mild curse and deposited the dishes in the sink. He half kneeled to get as many papers as possible and shuffled them together hoping to make a more stable configuration. The classified section was mixed in with handwritten notes and Jim pulled it out. One glance told him he was holding the rent ads. And some were circled. Sandburg's handwriting was on the newsprint and for a moment it was all Jim could see.

Anger swept through him. *How dare Sandburg go this far without even **hinting** that he wanted to move out.* Jim stood up slowly, the rest of the papers forgotten.

"Want another beer, man?" The voice registered even if the words had no meaning.

"Hey, Sandburg," Jim finally focused on the younger man. "Were you plannin' on saying something or just leaving a note?" He waved the rent ads in Blair's direction.

Blair looked guilty for all of a second before his features resolved into determination. "Well, Ellison," he said, deliberately, "I haven't made a decision yet but you would be the first to know."

"I'm honored," Jim's voice dripped sarcasm. He took a step toward Blair but Gomez gave a low growl and Jim stopped at the warning.

"Just what the hell is your problem anyway?" Blair paced the short distance between the couch and the kitchen. "You never wanted me living with you in the first place. You should be happy I've thought about leaving."

Jim pointed a finger at Blair. "Don't tell me how I should feel." He shoved the papers into Blair's chest. "And for the record, I **never** asked you to leave."

This time Gomez growled loud enough for Blair to hear. He snapped his fingers and the dog quieted at once. "You never asked me to stay either," he said, in a controlled, quiet voice. "In fact, you're the one who wanted to keep it academic. It's your house, your rules, subject to your whims, as you take every opportunity to remind me." Blair made a conscious effort to pet Gomez; it helped him to calm down and gave at least one hand something to do. "I tried to make allowances, give you the space you asked for. Hell, I know how weirded out you were by your hyper senses but that's more than half a year ago!" He looked Jim straight in the eye and said, "I am tired of being treated like a tool that you can put away when you're not using it."

Jim looked stunned and Blair waited for the fallout. He wasn't sorry for what he'd said, only how he'd said it.

"You really are a master manipulator, you know that? All this time pretending that everything's fine, that we're..." Jim made a broad gesture. "But that was a big lie, oh pardon me, obfuscation." Jim moved forward, his voice getting louder with each step. "All that poking and prodding and wanting to know every little thing about me, how **I** feel and here you are holding **this** in reserve." His hands came up to grab Blair's shoulders and Gomez barked, rising to meet Jim's advance.

Blair grabbed the dog's collar. "No," he said firmly. "Sit." He tugged the collar and Gomez obeyed. "I think you'd better leave," Blair said, meeting Jim's eyes.

"We are not finished," Jim said, crossing his arms. "Just put him in another room."

"No. His hearing is as good as yours," Blair sighed. "We **will** finish this but not here and not now."

The determination was clear in Blair's eyes and Jim nodded once but paused in the doorway to put on his coat. "I'll meet you tomorrow like we planned." It was almost a question.

"Right. Ten am, your loft."

Jim frowned at the terminology but nodded again in agreement.

Blair went through his evening routine on autopilot, Gomez never more than a foot from his side. Jim hadn't gotten that upset since Blair had wanted in on helping to protect Maya. And that argument had been cut short by Captain Banks. Blair sometimes wondered how it would've played out. With a start he realized that they'd never had a full blown argument. And it wasn't over yet.

Lacing his hands behind his head Blair stared at the ceiling. He had honestly thought that Jim would be happy to see him move, happy to have the loft undeniably his own, completely under his control. Blair groaned and rubbed his eyes. "I'm an idiot," he muttered.

Control. For Jim, everything was always about control, of his senses, himself, his environment. *And here I am, in his face, in his space, trying to get him to do what I want.* "Okay," he argued with himself, "It's all to help Jim with his senses but from Ellison's perspective I've taken over his life. Work and home." Which led him right back to the reasoning that Jim should be happy to see him go.

But he wasn't. So much so that he'd gotten physically aggressive. Blair could think of only two other times when Jim used brute force against him, that first meeting in Blair's office and later on the train when the cold medicine had kicked in. Blair had long determined that fear had been the motivation.

A strange thrill frissoned through Blair's body. Jim was **afraid** he'd leave? Afraid of losing his guide? Afraid of losing his friend? Or just afraid of losing Blair, period.

Blair stood and grabbed his robe suddenly unable to lie still. That thought was just too much. Gomez roused himself and followed Blair into the living room. All the casual touches, teasing, and looks crowded his mind. Blair knew what they could mean, what he wanted them to mean, and what he always told himself they had meant.

Blair groaned. Sometimes he thought too much. But he needed to have some preparation for tomorrow, well, technically, today. He took a deep breath, needing to focus. What did he want? That, after all, was the underlying question to the whole moving mess. And if he had been wrong about Jim wanting him gone then how could he be certain of his conclusions now?

House rules were one thing but what really motivated Blair's excursion into the rent ads was the feeling that Jim was distancing himself from their friendship and Blair hated it. Above all, he did not want to lose Jim's friendship. But could he pay the price by staying in the loft? Not under the current conditions. Jim made up rules every time he wanted something his way or felt threatened. While Blair was used to a certain amount of chaos in his life, he didn't like the pressure of being under constant scrutiny, wondering what his next infraction would turn out to be.

Blair slumped on the couch with his second epiphany: the sentinel studies. If **I** feel under the microscope, then Jim....* Blair didn't want to imagine it and Jim's whole control issue returned full force. Blair looked at the clock: 2:15. He was thinking in circles. He took a couple of cleansing breaths and went back to bed, determined to sleep.

Ellison drove with precise attention to the traffic laws. It gave him something to think of other than the little drama he'd just played out. Hell, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so upset with Blair. Nothing the kid had done had ever produced this intense a reaction. And the most infuriating part was that he couldn't even say why he'd reacted that way.

He tossed his keys with more force than necessary onto the table and stalked into the loft. *"Your loft,"* Blair's voice echoed in his mind. Well, it was true. Just because Sandburg lived here didn't mean.... what? That he should feel comfortable, at home? A cold sterile feeling washed through him. *"I don't belong here, Jimmy,"* Carolyn said when she'd moved out. *"This is **your** place. It always will be!"*

Jim's jaw muscle clenched harder. This was stupid, comparing Carolyn and Blair. He looked around for something to do but there was nothing. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. Except Blair. Damn. Inactivity was not an option. He grabbed his keys and headed to the department's gym. At this time of night it should be pretty much deserted. Like here. Jim slammed the door behind him.

Ellison checked over the equipment before sitting down to begin his repetitions. His breathing fell into a steady familiar rhythm, not unlike the meditation exercises Sandburg had taught him. Jim's rhythm nearly faltered at the comparison. How had Blair become so entrenched in his thoughts?

It was obvious, really, he answered himself. Partner and guide. How much closer could anyone get? A shiver ran down Jim's spine to flare into his groin. No. This is not happening. It's a reaction to the stress, that's all. Unbidden an image of Blair as he'd last seen him filled Jim's mind: dark curls framing a face flushed by emotion, blue eyes blazing. Jim's cock stirred.

No. He abandoned the weight trainer in favor of a rowing machine. What was wrong with him? Blair would... what? Laugh at him? No, Jim couldn't see that. Run from him? No, Blair never backed down from anything Jim threw at him. Fear and something very close to panic gripped Jim with the realization that he couldn't predict Blair's reaction.

*As if I'd ever tell him,* he mocked himself. *Tell him what?* his brain argued. *I don't even know so what is there to say?*

Jim finished his workout, showered at the department and went home with more questions than answers. Blair would be in this very room in less than ten hours and Jim had no idea what was going to happen. He no longer even knew what he wanted to have happen.

But the thought of losing Blair left him feeling empty, lost, and very cold inside.

Blair stood poised in front of the loft door, keys in hand, suddenly unsure if he should use them. The decision was taken from him when Jim opened the door, his face a blank mask. Not the most promising of starts. Blair tried a quick smile and palmed the keys.

Jim stood aside without a word and Blair walked in. The loft even smelled clean and Blair had an unkind image of Jim disinfecting the place after he'd gone. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up.

"Coffee?" Jim asked, already heading into the kitchen.

"Yeah, thanks," Blair said, too unsettled to sit. He wandered to the window taking in the grey skies before turning back to get the coffee from Jim. In that instant he realized why the loft looked so clean; there was no clutter. Nothing out of place. And nothing of his anywhere to be seen. *Okay, that's my own doing,* Blair reminded himself. His latest attempt to appease Jim.

Blair could still see, all too clearly, the image of Jim throwing things in boxes. What had saved him from an anxiety attack on the spot was that he couldn't believe that they were all **his** things. It was only later, when he'd had a chance to go through the boxes, that Blair realized that everything in them **was** his. That he'd managed to accumulate so much spoke to how long he wanted to stay. Blair caught Jim watching him but said nothing, drinking his coffee instead.

"So, Chief, are you serious about moving out?"

Ellison's bluntness was still a shock if not a surprise. "I never was but the way things were going it didn't seem like a bad idea to get a feel for what's out there."

"What does that mean?"

"Well," Blair began, choosing his words carefully, "It seemed like you were using the house rules to try and get me to leave without actually saying so."

"I wouldn't do that."

Blair ran a hand through his hair, "Yeah, intellectually I think I knew that but it certainly felt that way." He paused for a sip of coffee. "So if you weren't trying to make me leave, what were you trying to do?"

"Keep the place clean."

Blair rolled his eyes, Jim's straightforward, superficial answers were getting on his nerves. "Look, Jim, you're the one who started this little talk, if you can't level with me then this is pointless."

Jim nearly took a step back from Blair's piercing gaze. The expressive face showed extreme agitation coupled with determination. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea; where Blair wanted to live was his own choice. It wasn't as if Jim expected this relationship to last. Ellison blinked. What a lie.

He must've been silent too long because Blair said, "Fine. You wanna keep this academic, I can do that. But I can't do it and continue to live here."

"Why not?" Matching Blair's anger came too easily. "What makes tomorrow any different from last week?"

Blair looked as if he'd been struck. "Is the research all you think I'm here for? Oh man."

Jim deflated in the face of Blair's incredulity. Honesty compelled him to say, "I never **believed** it, Blair, not where it counts. It just made it easier to... distance myself when the inevitable happened."

"And what's the inevitable?"

"When you move on. When you get your doctorate and move on."

That wasn't such a leap in logic and Blair knew it. But it still hurt. "Jim, my doctorate isn't going to stop me from being your guide. Neither could my moving out."

Jim's stomach tightened. "Why do you keep **saying** that?" He could hear the pleading in his voice and wondered if Blair could too.

Something must've gotten through because Blair's expression softened. "Because it hurts too much. I'll forget and think that our friendship isn't..."

"Whoa, Chief," Jim held up his hands to cut him off. "Forget? You don't think we're **friends**?"

Blair saw true emotion bleeding from Jim's eyes: astonishment, anger, and fear. "I did for a while," Blair began, trying to put his emotions into words, "but lately... like I said, it seemed... you just kept pushing me away. From everything: this loft, any sentinel stuff, you." Blair gestured with his free hand. "You're doing it now. You can't even call me by my first name. It's always Chief this or Sandburg that or some other smartass nickname to distance yourself." He plunged forward, overriding Jim's indignation. "I know this is all about control for you and I can understand that, really I can. But I just can't live like this anymore."

Jim felt a wave of ice cold panic wash through him, coalescing into a hard, jagged lump somewhere in his gut. Unvarnished Blair was terrifying. He wet his lips hoping to work up enough saliva to swallow; it didn't happen.

Never taking his eyes off Blair's, Jim opened his mouth, his thoughts a confused jumble but one thing was very clear. "I don't want you to go. I couldn't stand it.... I need you here. I want you... to stay." Jim faltered under the scrutiny but held his ground.

"Why?"

Blair's whispered question rang like thunder in Jim's ears. Whatever control he'd had of the situation, Blair, or himself, was gone and not coming back. He could feel the air rasping in and out of his throat, how it expanded his lungs. The blood pulsing through his body had a life of its own, racing through his veins, its current hot and fast under his skin.

Blair would leave, the man's reasoning made sense even to Jim's ordered mind. Blair would leave and Jim would be alone. And lost. And scared. Jim felt it happening now, felt his world turning in on him as it had when the sentinel senses had first appeared. He'd needed Blair then, desperately. He wanted Blair now with an intensity that gripped his soul.

"Jim? Jim?" Blair's voice was distant, coaxing. "Come on, man, snap out of it." Warm hands gripped Jim's arms when he started to tremble. "Jim, come on, Jim, look at me, say something."

Blair's eyes were level with his; they were sitting on the couch. How the hell had that happened? And why couldn't he stop shaking? The hands deserted him and Jim reached for them even as an afghan was draped over his shoulders. Jim locked his fingers around Blair's wrists and focused in on wide azure eyes.

"Don't go," his voice was raspy as though he hadn't talked in days.

"I won't," Blair assured him not trying to break free.

Jim tightened his grip slightly. "I don't mean only now.... I don't want you to leave me. I'd... I couldn't.... I couldn't survive if you left." Blair's eyes got impossibly wider and Jim hastened to add, "I'm not talking about just the sentinel stuff.... I'm talking about me. **I** want you to stay. I want... you...." Jim trailed off, his eyes locked onto Blair's.

Blair held perfectly still, trying to take it all in. He didn't need sentinel senses to hear the fear in Jim's voice or feel the fine tremors coursing through him. But it was Jim's ice blue eyes that captured his attention.

Sincerity blazed out at him as well as naked desperation. One wrong word and Jim was going to shatter. The responsibility, the trust, threatened to freeze Blair's ability to think. The shock of Jim's declarations bordered on numbing and Blair forced aside his own roiling emotions determined to lessen the fear.

"I won't leave you," Blair soothed, using his best Guide tone, the one that Jim responded to most often. "I will **always** be your friend and your Guide."

Jim blinked and Blair could see some of the panic retreat. Blair tried to reach out but his wrists were still trapped in a white-knuckled grip. "Jim," he said quietly, "I need my hands back."

Ellison looked down as if he'd forgotten what he was doing. With an obvious act of will he released his hold, clutching at his own knees instead.

Blair stretched his fingers and before circulation fully returned, draped one arm along Jim's stiff back and rested his right hand over Jim's. "I need time to think, to really understand what's happening. What we want to have happen."

"We?" Jim latched onto the one word that offered hope.

"Yes," Blair said firmly. "Hey, I don't jump out of airplanes for just anyone, you know." He squeezed Jim's hand, pleased that the man was no longer shaking. "I need time to let reality sink in, to find my center again." Jim gave a half smile at that and Blair returned it full measure.

Jim laced his fingers through Blair's and contemplated the union. His expression turned bleak and Blair's smile disappeared. "What is it?" Blair questioned.

"You're not... I mean... I didn't... offend you..."

"No." Blair broke into the halting words. "Don't **ever** think that. You just... I'm stunned, Jim. I never thought, would let myself believe..." He saw hope light Jim's eyes again and Blair couldn't deny him, even though his world felt less than stable. "You are the most important person in my life. No one has ever made me feel... challenged me.... God, Jim, I need time to think. I don't want to mess this up. Please understand."

"Way too late for that, Chief... Blair," Jim hastily corrected.

"It's okay, Jim," Blair said, tightening his hold on Ellison's shoulders. "I like it, most of the time." He drew the larger man back until they were both resting against the couch. The world still had an unreal quality to it but there was one undeniable truth: he loved Jim. Blair didn't know how or when it happened but life without James Ellison was no longer an option.

"Jim," Blair began, gently encouraging his partner to meet his eyes. "I will never leave you. You're a part of me and without you I wouldn't be complete."

Jim blinked at him, mouth open slightly. "I thought you needed to think," he managed.

"Oh, I do," Blair replied, "I'd say we **both** do, but wanting to stay with you is not an issue."

Jim reached up to brush the curls from Blair's face. Yeah, he had some thinking to do too but knowing that Blair was part of the mix made it easier to face. Jim ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed by the emotional chaos he'd unleashed earlier.

Blair let his hand slide from Jim's shoulder to the couch but made no move to put any distance between them. "I got a call from Denise today," he said, conversationally, "She and Todd'll be back tomorrow night so it looks like I'll be home for the weekend."

Jim's head lifted to meet Blair's eyes and what he saw there made him smile and nod. He felt calmer but no less awkward. Nothing more could safely be said tonight yet Jim was loathe to see Blair go. It seemed so final but there was nothing to be done about it. Blair was resting next to him, heart rate normal, breathing steady, apparently ready to stay as long as he thought Jim needed him to. That realization sent a rush of affection as well as guilt through him. Blair had responsibilities and it was up to Jim to make sure he kept them.

"It's getting late, Chief," Jim said, pushing himself off the couch. "Your friends are going to wonder where dinner is." Belatedly he remembered about the nickname but Blair didn't comment.

"Yeah," Blair agreed, standing also. He retrieved his backpack and fished in his pocket for his keys. Trying for normalcy he said, "I'll be home tomorrow, 5:30 at the latest; I gotta cover for Reynolds."

Jim nodded his acknowledgment and put his hand on Blair's back to usher him out the door. The shock of contact rushed through him and he swallowed against it. "Sounds good," he said. "See you then."

Jim added water chestnuts to the stir fry vegetables and tried to ignore the pot of boiling water next to him. He could not believe he was cooking tongue. But it was Blair's favorite dish and Jim wanted this dinner to be perfect. *Perfect? Get with the program, Ellison, the word you want is romantic. You want to romance Blair Sandburg, graduate student, your partner, and guide.* Jim put the finishing touches on the salad trying in vain to ignore his inner voice. *Face it, Ellison, you want more from the man than just sex. After all, it's not as if you don't know what turns a guy on. Yeah, women. Shut up!* Jim stood perfectly still solely intent on breathing. The first rule of crisis is to panic over one thing at a time. Re-establishing his relationship with Blair was more than enough to handle without worrying over how to label it or how much experience Blair might have with guys. *Shit. Don't go there. Not now. One thing at a time. First prepare dinner, serve it, **then** start asking embarrassing questions.* Jim groaned, wondering how he was going to survive this evening.

The distinctive rumble of the Corvair pulling into the basement garage reached Jim's ears. *I am relaxed. I am relaxed.* He listened as Blair unloaded the car, locked it, and gathered his luggage for the trip upstairs. *I am... not ready for this.*

Jim glanced around the loft; it was spotless. The food would be ready shortly and the dining table was set, complete with candles and white wine. There was nothing left to do, nothing to distract him from his nervousness.

Blair breezed in and Jim stirred the vegetables, trying to look busy. "Hey, Chief," he said, turning off the stove. "You've got about five minutes and then we're ready to eat."

"Hey, yourself," Blair rejoined, taking in the wonderful food odors as well as the elegant table arrangement. "No problem," he continued, already moving. "I'll just dump these in my room."

Blair tossed his stuff on the bed, wishing for more time. That was not the typical welcome home dinner. But then again, this was not the typical welcome home. Blair had half convinced himself that Jim would just ignore yesterday's angst fest - blame it on bad anchovies or something - but this, this was an all out campaign. *I really should have known,* Blair thought. *Once Ellison made a decision, he went with it. All the way.* Blair shuddered and detoured into the bathroom.

After washing his hands, Blair took a brush to his hair, watching himself in the mirror. *You're stalling, man,* Blair told his reflection. He knew better than to speak out loud - not that Jim would deliberately eavesdrop but sometimes the man's senses kicked in without conscious thought. The scientist in Blair wondered if there was any way around that, the theorist wondered if that would be a good thing, and the psychologist told him that he was still stalling.

Blair took a slow, deep breath. *I am relaxed. I am relaxed. I am... where I want to be.* Blue eyes opened and a slow smile spread over Blair's face. Well, that clarified that.

With more confidence than he had two minutes ago, Blair walked over to the kitchen counter. "Need any help?"

"Thanks, but no, I've got it covered, Chief." He indicated the table with a nod of his head. "Why don't you sit down. I'll be right there." He waited until Blair did as he was told before he finished slicing the tongue. *I'm serving tongue to the man I want to seduce.* Jim cringed at the thought; it was a tasteless joke if there ever was one.

Jim ignored it and put the platter of meat onto the middle of the table. Blair glanced at the main course and his face lit up in surprise and delight. "You made tongue?!" Without waiting for a reply he forked several slices onto his plate. "Jim, thank you, this is great." Blair dug in, smiling with his eyes. "And delicious," he added, swallowing his first taste.

"Thanks," Jim said, taking a sip of wine. He watched Blair eat, noting how relaxed the young man was. How beautiful. Jim felt heat radiate over his skin, not entirely comfortable with it, and ready to blame the wine if Blair said anything. *Why?* Jim questioned. *I find Blair attractive and if he were a woman I'd be telling him so, not trying to hide it. But that's the problem, isn't it? He isn't a woman.* Jim studied Blair's face. *Like that's stopped me. I spent all last night thinking about it and thinking about not thinking about it and the conclusion was always the same. I love Blair.*

"Jim?" Blair's voice intruded on his thoughts. "Jim? You zoning on me, man?"

"No," Jim shook his head. *What to say?* "You're beautiful." The words were out before he realized it and he very nearly held his breath for the response.

Blair smiled, wine glass halfway to his lips. A faint redness, visible to sentinel eyes, spread over Blair's face. "Thank you." He set the now empty glass down and lightly brushed his fingers over Jim's. "You make a delicious meal, Jim." Blair repeated the caress - delighted that he could make Jim blush - and continued, "What's for dessert?"

Jim swallowed hard. "Strawberry cheesecake." Was that really his voice?

"Cool." Blair began clearing the table and after a moment, Jim helped him. *Oh man, deer in headlights is not the desired result.* He'd only meant to comfort and please, not start a seduction scene. There was too much left unsaid.

As Blair gathered the remaining leftovers he let his eyes roam over the loft, the place that felt like home. It was no longer the sterile environment that he'd first walked into over eight months ago. Not that the place was any less organized, in fact, tonight, it was immaculate but the atmosphere was different. More relaxed, comfortable. Lived in.

Blair leaned back against the sink so he could watch Jim's progress with the dessert. It was then that he noticed the ceremonial doll propped securely in the middle of one of the bookshelves. He'd left her in one of the boxes that Jim had filled during his last cleaning fit - the one that started this.

Jim followed his gaze and said, "I hope you don't mind. I got kind of used to seeing her there."

Blair shook his head, "I don't mind at all. She's not meant to be hidden."

Jim just nodded and Blair watched as he sliced the cheesecake, admiring the subtle play of muscle in every movement. He looked at Jim's face, glad to see that his jaw was neither locked in place or twitching. Jim met his gaze and Blair took the offered plate, following him to the couch.

"Isn't there some rule about this?" Blair teased, taking a bite.

Jim watched as Blair's lips closed around the fork. "I'm ready to bend a few rules tonight."

"Just tonight?" Blue eyes locked on blue.

For a panicked instant Jim wondered if Blair knew that he loved him. After all, all he'd managed to really say was that he **wanted** Blair, **needed** him. Not that he loved him. And, he realized on a second wave of fear, Blair hadn't said the words either. Not plainly.

"Jim?" Blair asked, concern coloring his voice. "Jim, you okay, man?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jim said, forking another piece into his mouth. He chewed mechanically, swallowed, and said, "No."

Blair blinked and abandoned his empty plate on the coffee table. "No? No, what?"

"No, not just tonight."

"Oh." It was a small sound, more of an exhalation of air than anything else. With more force he added, "Good." Taking a deep breath, he met Jim's eyes and continued, "Because I've broken a few rules of my own. And I'm not talking about gender. That's not an issue for me." Jim's expression didn't change and it gave Blair the courage to go on. "What makes this different is how intense and deep my emotions run. It's like nothing I've ever felt before and it is totally at odds with my belief in permanence." Blair swallowed, determined to make Jim understand. "I think I misread your actions as clues I should leave because some part of me was expecting it." Blair held up a hand to forestall Jim's protest. "No matter where I've lived, sooner or later I'm expected to leave. Even living on my own doesn't make it permanent because the space isn't mine. I'm just a temporary resident. But yesterday, out of nowhere, you gave me everything I could've asked for. I love you, Jim, and I am very glad to be home."

Jim blinked into the sudden silence. That was the longest, most revealing speech Blair had ever made. And it ended with the words Jim most wanted to hear but had been too afraid to say himself.

Words never came easily to Jim Ellison and sometimes they didn't come at all. Running on instinct, Jim reached out to touch the side of Blair's face, trying to convey without words what he felt. Blair leaned into the caress before taking Jim's hand in his own. The warm moist kiss Blair placed on his palm sent a shiver through Jim's body.

"I want you to know," Blair said softly, "that I'm not without experience." He met and held Jim's gaze. There was no easy way to say this. "And that my test results are negative."

Reality slammed into Jim. A hundred questions about Blair's sexuality, past experience, and current expectations clamored for his attention. Equally unbidden, his years in vice streaked past his mind's eye and Jim's grip tightened reflexively for support. What he'd done then had been impersonal, solely for the job. It couldn't compare to how he felt, what he wanted to give if only he could let himself.

"Jim?" The concern in Blair's voice was all too evident.

"I... Sorry," Jim managed, meeting Blair's deep blue eyes. "I...," How to explain? What was Blair thinking? Best to deal with the obvious. "I'm clean too." Not exactly the seduction he'd planned but Blair's honesty warmed him.

Blair gave a brief smile and placed his free hand over their clasped ones. "I'm not going anywhere. If you're not sure about this..."

"No!" Jim drew Blair's hands to his mouth and kissed them. "I've never **been** this sure. It's just..."

"Strange," Blair supplied. "Wonderful and scary and intense and I know a lot of adjectives, Jim."

Jim laughed in delight as those full lips curved into another smile; the desire emanating off the younger man undiminished. Blair's thumb rubbed slowly over his index finger, the slight pressure more arousing than it had a right to be.

Blair heard Jim's breath catch and he reached out to echo his soon to be lover's earlier caress. Jim was staring at him, eyes dark and wide. Without breaking that contact Blair leaned forward to press his mouth to Jim's waiting lips.

Jim forgot to breathe, the warm, soft pressure capturing his full attention. The kiss ended far too quickly and, even as the warmth receded, Jim followed it, unconsciously holding Blair's head in place for a new, less chaste kiss.

Hot, smooth, and moist, tasting of the dinner Jim had cooked. And something more. Jim worked at tracking down the elusive taste and, as Blair's tongue dueled with his, understanding came to him. It was Blair's taste, the man's own personal flavor. His heart beat faster at the discovery, made him want to learn more. Jim pulled back, breathing deeply to capture Blair's scent. A part of him recognized that he already knew it and had missed its presence very recently.

Jim shuddered and drew Blair to him; that would not happen again. He resolved to map Blair with his senses. And in the process demonstrate to his guide how much Blair was wanted and loved. Jim buried his face in Blair's hair, inhaling deeply - shampoo, sweat, excitement, and Blair filled his head. He opened his sense of touch and Blair's curls went from smooth to silky. He pressed his face to Blair's skin absorbing the warmth and texture. He licked Blair's ear, drawing the unadorned lobe between his teeth before biting down gently.

Blair twitched in Jim's embrace and a low moan escaped his lips. The sound met Jim's ears and reverberated through his body. Blair's hands had worked their way under his shirt, fingers skimming over his back, the touch alternating between a light, almost tickling glide, and a deeper, firmer caress.

Jim groaned at the conflicting pattern, instinctively trying to maximize each touch. But the pattern was random so Jim let the sensations wash over him and mix with all the other sensory input.

It was becoming too much but it was too good to stop. He could feel the fine play of muscles as Blair's hands mapped his back. Jim copied Blair's lead and worked his fingers under the younger man's shirt. He traced Blair's muscles, felt them flex, felt Blair's breath accelerate and, without thinking, tugged Blair's shirt up. Blair cooperated and, once free, instantly returned the favor.

Jim drank in the familiar sight of Blair, made new by circumstance. *God, he's beautiful.* The thought struck him yet again. Jim spread his hand, and with a sensitized touch, ran his fingers down Blair's chest, following the ever thicker arrow of hair to his waist. He raised his eyes to meet Blair's, saw the desire and passion burning there.

"I want to see you too," Blair whispered. He slid his hands just inside Jim's waistband, rimming the circle the elastic made.

"Aaah," Jim breathed, blood pounding harder in response. The reality of what was happening, what he wanted to have happen roared through him, pushing heightened senses to a new razor sharp level. He clutched Blair to him, wanting more, wanting to stop before he drowned in sensation, leaving Blair out of his reach.

Blair wrapped himself around Jim's trembling body, the man's desperation all too clear. "Easy, Jim," he murmured, making slow soothing circles on the broad back. "Take it easy. There's no rush. I'm not going anywhere." The latter was true but Blair had never been so hard so fast in his life and he needed to take his own advice.

Blair stopped moving, tried to be less of a distraction. "Dial them down, Jim, one at a time. Slow and easy, lover," he encouraged, voice soft and low, pitched only for Jim's ears. "That's it," he praised, feeling Jim's grip loosen - but not break - Jim's chest rising and falling in a calmer rhythm.

Blair pulled back just enough to smile into passion dark eyes. "I want you...." Jim's eyes got darker. "..on a bed."

Jim let out a huff of a laugh. "I want you too. In bed." He rushed on before his courage failed him. "Out of it. Forever."

Blair's mouth parted silently at the serious tone and he licked his lips before nodding. "Always, Jim. Anywhere. Forever." He started to shake, the enormity of what he'd promised hitting home. He saw Jim's eyes narrow and he wet his lips again, hands sliding up to Jim's shoulders. He shifted just enough to let their enclosed erections brush together. Jim's eyes closed and he groaned.

"Upstairs," Jim panted, gaining a small measure of control. Blair slid off him and Jim groaned again at the friction. All he remembered of the climb to his room was the sight of Blair's jeans clad ass swaying in front of him.

Stripping rapidly, they tumbled to the bed, kissing hungrily. Blair wanted to devour the feast that was Ellison's body, show him with hands and mouth, hair and breath, how much he was desired and loved.

Jim responded with equal fervor, discovering a new taste or scent or texture with every move. Blair was over him, next to him, and under him by turns, and Jim started to lose track of where one sense began and another ended. Everything merged into pure sensation, total pleasure, and Jim was helpless to control it.

Blair eased out of the kiss with great care. Jim's responses had changed from passionate to passive and of the two reasons Blair could think for that to happen, the zone out he saw on Jim's face was preferable. Having Jim conclude that what he felt was only a chemical delusion was not an option.

Blair took a few calming breaths of his own, careful to align himself next to but not touching Jim's body. "Okay, Jim, focus on my voice. Come on, man, you can do this," Blair spoke quietly, voice low and steady. It took a little over a minute of quiet coaxing before Jim's eyes opened. "Look at me, Jim," Blair said, pleased when Jim turned his head and sought Blair's eyes. "Welcome back." Jim's gaze darted away in embarrassment.

Blair shifted just enough to allow the natural dip in the mattress to draw them together, loving the feel of Jim's solid length along his body. He reached out and cupped the strong chin, gently turning Jim's head to face him. "I love you." Jim's mouth parted slightly and Blair could tell that that wasn't what he'd expected to hear. "You're beautiful." Unable to resist, Blair covered Jim's mouth with his own, tongues touching briefly. "We can do this, Jim," he whispered, straddling the rock hard body to rub Jim's chest.

"It's okay to get lost in the sensations; that's part of the point." Blair leaned in to trace Jim's lips with his tongue. "All I want is for you to remember just who it is that's touching you." Blair swept his hands down Jim's sculpted chest. "Kissing you." Blair kissed the hollow of Jim's neck. "Loving you." Blair took Jim's swollen and weeping cock in hand, spreading pre-ejaculate over and around the shaft.

"Blair!" Jim exclaimed, body arching for more.

"Right first time," Blair praised before diving down to swallow Jim's erection. Jim shouted inarticulately, hands clutching the sheets, hips thrusting without thought. Blair anchored the larger man to the bed and sucked him dry, reveling in the sound, taste, and, ultimately, sight of James Ellison in primal ecstasy.

He waited, none too patiently, for Jim to come back to himself. He was almost painfully hard but Blair hadn't wanted to miss a second of Jim's orgasm and was not about to seek his own completion until Jim knew exactly what was happening.

After an eternity, Jim drew a deep, shuddering breath and opened his eyes. "At last," Blair breathed. He kissed and sucked hungrily on Jim's neck, slipping a leg over Jim to straddle him once again.

Jim growled at the heat and hardness of Blair's cock as it rubbed against his own softening erection. "Let me." His body felt like lead but he wanted to do something, be an active participant in Blair's completion. He reached out to steady the smaller man, the odor of their combined arousal pervading the air.

Blair was slick with sweat but Jim held onto the narrow hips, pulling the lighter man more firmly on top of him. Blair grunted and redoubled his efforts, silky dark hair brushing Jim's chest with each thrust. Jim let his hands slide over and down Blair's ass, kneading, stroking, encouraging. Blair was moaning almost continuously, his grip like iron on Jim's biceps.

Jim trailed one finger between Blair's asscheeks and his love froze before coming in shuddering bursts, shouting Jim's name. He collapsed onto Jim's chest, barely aware as strong arms encircled him and a blanket was drawn up his back.

Blair felt boneless and wholly comfortable. He knew he really should move before they became glued together but a small part of his brain argued that he was already bound to Jim so what did it matter.

It might matter to Jim who was, after all, acting as a mattress. Blair took a deep breath and with an effort of will slid off to Jim's left, gratified at his lover's murmur of protest even as Jim draped a leg over his own to better keep them as one.

Blair kissed Jim's chest; Jim kissed the top of Blair's head. Blair smiled against warm skin before tilting his head upwards to meet his new lover's eyes. "Wow," he said, almost solemnly. Jim's rumbling laughter shook both of them and the arm around his back tightened its hold.

Jim guided Blair's mouth to his, sucking his lower lip before kissing Blair thoroughly. "I love you," the words spilled out of him with surprising ease.

"I love you too," Blair answered, nuzzling against Jim's neck. "I have for a while."

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Hmmmm," Blair murmured, drawing invisible designs on Jim's chest. "Tell my laser straight, ex-military, ex-covert-ops, current cop partner and roommate that I think he's the hottest thing going? Oh and, by the way, I love you?" Blair heaved a sigh. "Noooo, that didn't seem like the smartest way to preserve the best friendship I ever had."

The hand stroking Blair's hair stilled then burrowed deeper to angle the younger man's head for a kiss. "I'd like to say that you were wrong, but..." Jim's grip tightened and he closed his eyes against the possibilities.

Blair stroked his fingers up Jim's cheek, over his eyes, and back down again. "You're okay with this? With us?"

Jim nodded then forced his eyes open. "Yes," he whispered, nearly mesmerized by the depth of blue in Blair's eyes. Those eyes shown brighter when Blair smiled and Jim vowed that no matter what he would never take this relationship for granted.

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