Archive of Our Own ^beta

Author's webpage: http://www.skeeter63.org/jayci/

Author's disclaimer: The characters from the TV series "The Sentinel" are not my property, and I am not making money off of them. That's it.

When Daylight Comes by J.C.

Outside, there was still a bit of a chill in the air, but standing at his balcony doors in a patch of early morning sunlight, Jim Ellison felt very warm. Wearing just a pair of shorts, he could feel the rays spreading heat from his neck to his knees as he looked out at the uncommonly clear blue sky. He stretched, blaming his heightened sense of touch for the sensation of hot fingers brushing across his chest, firing his nipples into points, cupping his balls where they lay nestled in soft fabric, and lazily stroking his cock into semi-hardness. Involuntarily, he pushed his hips forward, relishing the kiss of the sun. The sweet ache between his legs forced a sigh to escape him--a sound that was a heavy whisper of yearning.

The way his attention automatically turned to the room just a few feet from where he was standing didn't help. Especially not when vivid pictures of the man sleeping behind those closed doors flashed in his mind.

Even when he kept himself from picturing the body parts he had never seen, his fantasies were enough to get his blood flowing...

Blair... lying on his stomach in bed...wavy strands of hair brushing the tops of sturdy shoulders that showcase a strong, bare back, the dip of his spine leading down to his ass, where the sheet clings to the curve of it...moving so that the fleecy flannel drags softly against the skin of his hip as he turns over...revealing dusky nipples and the spray of hair between them...hair that narrows to a thin line which stops at the hollow of his navel, then picks up again to point lower...where the sheet has molded itself to the hardened flesh that is always the first part of Blair Sandburg to wake up in the morning.

Jim took a deep breath, and his dick twitched enthusiastically. That quick fantasy was all it took, but he could imagine so much more: like his lips teasing the nub of one hardened nipple, making Blair gasp and arch in response...caressing the line from shoulder to fingertip, feeling the muscles quiver under his sensitive touch...the scent of Blair-arousal through the filter of slept-on flannel sheets as he nuzzles the area of his roommate's covered groin....

Jim's hand crept inside his shorts as he tried not to imagine pulling the sheet lower and lower until all was exposed. Tried not to picture Blair turning back over, spreading his legs, and raising his ass slightly in the air. His mouth watering, suddenly Jim grabbed himself, hard, squeezing the base of his erection tightly in an effort to keep from giving in to a stroking motion. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on just breathing...but behind his eyelids, Blair was there, humping the mattress, stroking his own cock...calling out in husky whispers..."jim..."

"Jim. Jim? Are you okay?"

Hand still on his hard-on, Jim froze. He had been so caught up, he hadn't heard the change in breathing, hadn't heard the slide of fabric, or creak of bed as Blair woke up. Hadn't even heard the door opening, or Blair taking a step into the room. In imitation of the real stretch he had executed moments before, he rolled his head from side to side, rotated his shoulders, and then slowly raised his arms above his head. Trying to give his body time to calm down.

"Yeah. Still half-asleep I guess."

Blair gave a little laugh. "I guess so, man. Not usual for you not to hear me coming."

Jim stifled a groan at Blair's choice of words, and tried to will his partner to just walk on by into the bathroom. There was no way he could face him in the state he was in. Instead, the younger man crossed to him, stopping when they were almost side by side. Jim hoped that his pose--fingers linked loosely in front of his crotch--looked natural.

"What about you, Chief? You okay today?"

Blair had been moping around the loft for weeks. He wouldn't talk about it, but Jim had his suspicions. The lack of late night outings, and the absence of what Jim had labeled Blair's 'just got laid' behavior, was more than enough to suggest that the younger man's latest romance had bitten the dust.

"Yeah, I'm cool."

Jim finally glanced at him. Standing in that shared patch of morning heat, Blair made a pleasing picture. From the worn-thin tee-shirt, to the loose cotton pants--drawstring riding low on his hips, to his feet--one bare, one not. Sandburg's idea of cool...that made him hot. Even so, Jim felt that Blair wasn't exactly okay. Although sleep-rumpled and barely awake, Blair exuded a new level of tension.

"This is the first summer break where I haven't had plans. Four weeks until the summer session, and I have stuff I probably should do, but nothing that I really wanna do."

"Stephen offered me the use of his place at the lake. I'm going to go up for a few days since I'm still not quite ready to go back to work." Jim was aware of Blair's eyes gazing down at his wrapped knee--the remaining evidence of a bust gone bad, a week earlier. "I could take desk duty, but I already hate paperwork, why should I spend all day doing nothing but that?"

Jim held his breath, half-hoping Blair would want to go, half-hoping he wouldn't. He knew he should probably take advantage of the chance to put a little distance between them, but he found himself looking forward to them spending more time together.

"Mind if I tag along?" Blair rushed on, "I mean at least I could drive. It's a couple of hours to your brother's place...might be murder on your knee. I'll understand if you want to be alone...."

"No!" Calming himself, Jim repeated in a softer tone, "I mean, no problem. Sure, you can come." Jim clenched his fists tight enough to feel pain as his fingernails dug into his palms. At least it kept his dick from rising, and helped him to not think about Blair actually coming.

"Great." Blair smiled a slightly sad, slightly sweet smile, and Jim wondered, for what he was sure would be the first of many times, if allowing Blair along was actually a good idea.

But he grinned, turning away towards the stairs. "Well, as soon as you make yourself presentable, throw some things in a bag, and we'll take off."

"Everybody's not a morning person like you, Ellison. Just give me a shower and some caffeine, and I'll be better than new."

"Just get your butt in gear, Sandburg," Jim said, frowning at how the morning's conversation seemed destined to tease him with its double meanings. Making a concerted effort to ignore the sounds of Blair as he began to prepare for the day, Jim missed his partner mumble a good-natured 'fuck you, too' under his breath.

And with the way Jim's morning had started...that was probably a good thing.

Jim stood quietly, unable to look away from the sight of Blair bent over in a pair of tight jeans. The younger man was stuffing things into a duffel--shirt after shirt after shirt, then socks, underwear, toothbrush, razor, books, pens...

"Uh, Chief? Ready?"

Blair straightened up, quickly turning around in surprise. "Whoa, Jim! I don't have your hearing, you know. Give a guy a warning. Breathe or something."

"Sorry. Almost ready?" He pointed at the bulging bag. "We're not pulling up stakes, Chief. Think you got enough stuff?"

"Just the basics, man. I've learned to always be prepared on the road. Never know what might happen."

Jim watched Blair slowly turn and glance around the room, as if looking for what else he could add to the bag. The teasing comment he had been about to make died in his throat, and his mouth clamped shut as his mind came up with some definite ideas of what he wanted to happen...on the road or not. He jerked around, heading towards the front door, trying to ignore the ache of his throbbing knee, the sudden heaviness between his legs, and his stubbornly wayward thoughts. By the time he reached the front door to the apartment, he had enough breath to hoarsely call out, "Let's get going.... I'll meet you in the truck."

On the way up to the lake, Jim mentally kicked himself, even while he continued to indulge in covert observation of Blair behind the wheel. He was embarrassed by what it seemed he had become. A living, breathing, gay clich. That oft written about character in bad porn, (or even good porn): the horny homosexual who walked around lusting after his straight roommate. And he hated it. Hated how wrong it seemed. How it was too much like taking advantage of the special bond that there was between them.

He had at least been up-front with Blair from the beginning. Sitting him down after that initial one week stay had stretched out long enough for Jim to know that he didn't want Blair to move out. And in saying that, he had thought it only fair that he also share something else. The fact that he was sexually attracted to other men.

Not that he'd done much about it. He wasn't one to instigate a lot of social contact, and, since meeting Blair, most of the situations that he'd found himself in had been with women. But it had felt good to actually say to someone that he had...'inclinations'. Someone that was part of his world. Someone that wouldn't be able to think, 'I've known Jim Ellison for years, and I had no idea he was gay'. Where looks would follow, or interactions would change. He had someone who knew and didn't seem to care.

As long as he kept his feelings in check, he thought, and didn't ruin the friendship. But the closer he and Blair got, the more emotionally attached they seemed to become, the harder it was to tamp down on his physical attraction.

"What?"

"What what?"

Blair rolled his eyes. "You're frowning, man, and staring at me. What's wrong? Something coming outta my nose? Hey, do you need to get out? Stretch your leg, take a leak?"

"No, Sandburg, I'm fine. Just thinking, I guess." Jim turned away; even more embarrassed that he had been caught in the act of checking Blair out. He closed his eyes, and tried to clear his mind of anything even remotely related to Blair Sandburg and worn, tight denim. "And keep your eyes on the road," he added in a gruff voice. That the huskiness sounded more like irritation than desire suited him just fine.

Blair rolled his eyes again, but didn't comment. Instead, he turned up the radio, and drove the rest of the way in silence, except for his occasional humming, and constant tapping on the steering wheel in time to the changing beats.

Jim muttered to himself, cursing under his breath, as he rose to answer the knock on the door, wondering why the hell Blair had locked it in the first place. Blair had left about twenty minutes earlier to take a walk around the lake, and Jim had used his knee as an excuse to stay behind. The long ride up, closed in the cab of his truck, had been enough of a strain on his control. He'd thought it best to take a step back, especially considering that their trip had just begun.

He reached the door, snatching it open in a huff when he realized that it hadn't been locked after all. "Jesus, Sandburg! The door--"

The words stopped abruptly when Jim got a look at the man standing outside. Recognition rushed in, along with a whole range of tangled emotions. Blue eyes, wide in surprise, met light brown ones that mirrored the same. Jim took in the muscular frame, almost as big as his own, and almost as tall; the coppery, brown skin; dark, wavy hair cut very close, even noticing the goatee where before the face had been clean shaven. His mind processed the visual input, but he couldn't seem to find his voice.

It was the other man who finally broke the silence. "Hey, Jim--how's it hangin'?" It was a low, husky drawl, and the question was asked almost hesitantly, the eyes no longer surprised, but, instead, a bit cautious.

Automatically, Jim responded with what had been the usual answer, "Long and low, man, long and low."

The other man's eyes warmed, deepening with affection and amusement as he gestured towards Jim's injured knee. "And it's finally taking its toll on you, huh, old man?"

Quick snorts of laughter escaped Jim at that. "I'll have you know that this happened in the line of duty." At the smirking expression on the other man's face, Jim rushed to add, "And not what you're thinking, either." But they were both smiling as Jim held out his hand. "How the hell you been, Griff?"

When his hand was taken, Jim found himself pulled into an embrace that felt so sweetly familiar, he almost moaned.

As they released each other, Griff responded, "I've been pretty good, Jim. Life's not bad at all."

"What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that. I live here. Well...sometimes. I have a house a little further along the lake, and I spend a lot of time here when I'm not on the road, or back home in Atlanta. I happened to be taking a jog and noticed the truck parked out front here. The guy who owns this place, Steve, sometimes jogs with me, but I didn't think he would be up this week, besides, he has better taste in cars. Decided to check it out."

"That's my truck."

"You used to have better taste in cars, too," Griff said, flashing a smile.

"Well, my vehicles started taking as many hits in the line of duty as I did, so that baby's good enough." He paused before adding, "And Steve is my brother," grinning as Griff's jaw dropped, "Stephen Ellison."

"Seriously? Man, I didn't know you even had a brother. Basically, he and I were just Steve and Griff. We met up one day out running, and kind of fell into the habit whenever we were both here, but we never really got all personal. I knew he was in business, and he knew I was a writer, that that's why I come up here so often, but we didn't question each other, and I'm sure he didn't recognize me. Shit--your brother?"

Nodding, Jim said, "We hadn't really been in touch until recently. Look, do you wanna come in for a minute? Or maybe finish your run and come back later? I mean...."

Pushing gently on Jim's chest until he backed up, Griff stepped inside. "I have some time, after all, it's not every day we meet up. In fact, how long has it been?"

"About five years, I guess."

Five years. Five years since he'd last seen Griff. And despite the amount of time and the circumstances that had led to that long separation, there still seemed to be a friendly connection between them, and, Jim admitted, that same attraction.

They had met right after Jim's divorce. Out of sorts, struggling with why he hadn't been able to make his marriage work, along with the simultaneous feelings of freedom and fear about being alone, Detective Jim Ellison had been assigned the case of one Griffin Paris. African-American, bisexual, best-selling author, and the recipient of numerous death threats during the course of a book tour, who also, unknowingly, became the object of Jim's fantasies.

Jim could still remember the times that he had conjured up arousing images, built on a foundation of his memories of a few furtive couplings from his youth, fueled by a longing desire for...something. Something he had spent years denying he wanted. He had clamped down on it during the day as he painstakingly went about his job, though all the while painfully aware of Griff's presence. And at night, in his adjoining room in one of Cascade's best hotels, he had let his mind run rampant in the shower, indulging in frantic bouts of masturbation hoping to purge the need enough so that it wouldn't follow him into his dreams.

That hadn't worked, but at least he had fulfilled his duties--protected Griff and caught a racist, homophobic would-be murderer in the process. A warm smile, a firm handshake, and earnest thanks were all he had gotten from Griffin in return, until a few weeks later when the author's tour had finished up in California. Then, Jim had gotten a phone call, that led to a dinner--a date, he acknowledged--and later, not that first night, but soon after, the most passionately intense sex that he had ever known.

Hungry, sweaty encounters in out-of-the-way places. Exciting physical explorations that had always seemed so overwhelming to him. Followed by quiet snatches of conversation in the dark hours before dawn.

It had been just what Jim needed, and more than he could handle. He knew he hadn't truly been ready. Despite the years it had taken him to get to that place, after all he had been through, it had been too much, too soon. Still reeling from the end of his marriage, and suddenly finding himself in a relationship with a member of the same sex, someone who was open and comfortable with his own sexuality.

Not that it had always been that way for Griff. During those late night talks, Jim heard the other man's stories about coming to terms with loving women, wanting men, and trying to reconcile the two. The first time he had fallen in love with a man...or allowed himself to admit it, how his family had felt, how his friends had felt, how working through some of those issues in his novels had made things a little easier. Hearing all of that helped Jim, but also made him realize that he hadn't gotten to the point where he would tell friends and family, or of thinking about love again, much less with a man...and he wasn't sure how he'd ever deal with being out at work.

Being involved with a high-profile person, whose sexuality was also high-profile, meant sneaking around, and that had gotten old for them both. So, when Griff finished a new book, packing up the house on the water that he had rented outside of Cascade, and gone back east for a series of meetings with his editor and publisher, they had drifted apart, letting that stand as the reason why. Though they both knew the truth.

Griffin Paris had fallen in love, and Jim Ellison hadn't.

The last contact between the two had been when Jim received a package by special delivery--a freshly printed hardcover book entitled, "The Measure of a Man", and scrawled in the front were the words, 'No regrets' signed with a large letter 'G'.

And that's where Jim started. "I read the book that you sent me. It was very good--reminded me of you. Thanks. So, what are you up to now?"

And with that they let any residual uneasiness slip away, conversing comfortably about what the previous five years had been like for them both. Not that Jim told everything, especially not the real reasons that Blair was in his life, or how strongly his feelings for his partner had grown. Griff got the abridged version, which ended with a story about a dropped gun, a running tackle, and a crook that almost got away. It would have been funny if Jim hadn't had the visible signs of his injury to prove otherwise.

"I better get going. I want to get some more work done this afternoon. As much as I love to write, I hate deadlines."

Griff stretched, loosening himself up a little. Not noticing, or pretending not to notice, Jim eyes following the movement of his muscles.

"Okay. It was great seeing you again. I'm sorry.... We should keep in touch more."

Griff moved closer, and for a second--a crazy, terrifying, thrilling second--Jim thought the other man was about to kiss him, but then it passed.

"You're right. I'd like that. Say, tomorrow I'm going out on the lake, do a little fishing early in the morning, wanna come along?"

Jim stared. "You? Since when do you fish?"

With a little grin, Griff replied, "Well, I don't really fish. I just like to take the boat out sometimes, sit on the water and think. But I take the fishing gear anyway. Plus, you like to fish, and I'd like the company."

Before he knew it, Jim found himself agreeing.

"You didn't have something planned already, did you? I mean with...Blair, right? I don't want to mess anything up. He's invited, there's plenty of room."

Jim was suddenly irrationally apprehensive about the two men meeting. The past and the present colliding...with him in the middle. It made him feel unsettled. His emotions were already riding high--love and desire, guilt and fear. "No. Sandburg doesn't like..." Stopping himself from telling a blatant lie about his partner having an aversion to fishing, he went on, "... getting up early."

"Okay. I'll swing the boat by around five? Or is six better?"

They worked out the details, and then Griff was gone.

Jim went out on the back deck of the house, soaking up the mid-afternoon sun while he did the prescribed exercises for his injured knee, working up a sweat while trying to keep his mind off of Griffin Paris and Blair Sandburg both.

"Perfect."

Blair looked up at the interruption, his thoughts scattering with the sound of the soft, but rich voice. He had been sitting by the lake, taking in the view, enjoying the warmth of the sun while contemplating everything and nothing. 'Everything' being how he had come to feel about his roommate, partner, and friend. 'Nothing' being what he was going to do about it.

The source of the voice was standing over him, and Blair's immediate assessment was to agree. 'Perfect.' And he said so.

"That should be my line."

The laugh was also rich. Melodious tones that touched him like the breeze blowing over the water. Warm, chocolate eyes looked down at him, set in a caramel-colored face, framed by wild, brown curls that were touched with auburn highlights and fell almost to shoulder length, not unlike his own.

"So, I guess I'm not disturbing you, huh?"

"No, not at all." In fact, Blair welcomed the distraction, especially wrapped up in such a beautiful package. "I'm Blair."

"Giselle." Shifting a large, flat case to her left hand, she held out the right one for a handshake.

Blair took it, noting the way the air moved through her hair, and fluttered the skirt of the white sundress she wore. He caught quick glimpses of her smooth calves until they were totally hidden from view when she sat down next to him.

"Maybe I should explain," she said with a smile. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"Oh. So you don't think I'm perfect," Blair said, smiling back, with mock disappointment in his tone. After six weeks, it felt good to flirt again, to want to flirt again.

"Well, you're perfect for what I want. I come out here a lot looking for inspiration, and today you're it. As I was walking up, I watched you, and with the light, and your expression, and your appearance, it was all just...perfect." Giselle zipped open her case, removing a large sketchpad. "Would you mind? I'm trying to get in a little practice..."

Blair glanced at her in surprise. "You want to draw me?"

"If you don't mind holding that position for a while longer."

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, but in a strangely pleasant way, Blair shrugged one shoulder. "I don't mind."

"Great. It won't be that long, really. Just enough to give me the general impression, a bit of detail on the face, and then I'll let you off the hook. Now, just think about whatever you were thinking about before, and forget I'm here."

Obediently, Blair's mind slowly drifted back to its main preoccupation: Jim.

Jim, who had told Blair in a few stilted, and almost incomprehensibly vague, sentences that sometimes he dated men, though, so far, Blair hadn't really seen any evidence of it. He had only been witness to Jim's occasional ill-fated relationships with women, and he assumed that, despite their little talk, Jim kept his affairs with men separate in order to avoid any awkwardness between them. Blair knew that he could have put Jim's mind at ease. He could have said that he, too, had other than friendly interests in men. But that would have meant explaining why his relationships were with a string of women, and how he kept a tight check on his own inclinations.

Not that that seemed to have mattered recently. On their own, his feelings towards Jim had changed, and the realization hadn't brought with it any of the qualms that he had faced in situations past. Maybe it was because he and Jim had something so substantial...so much more than the physical aspect that he had suddenly found himself thinking about. They shared an emotional connection that still surprised him, and he had often wondered if that would make it easy to initiate a transition. According to Cynthia, who had dumped him just weeks earlier, it was inevitable. She had told him to stop wasting both their time, and just go be with whom he really wanted.

Jim.

After recovering from the shock of that confrontation, he had been left with the one obstacle that he could do nothing about. That the mere fact of Jim's sexuality alone didn't mean Jim would have any attraction to him. That Jim loved him, he was sure, but like a friend, like a brother, not a lover.

"Done."

For the second time, his thoughts were interrupted by Giselle's richly sweet voice, and he had to smile. Despite his feelings for Jim, it was so easy to slip back into the familiar patterns that flowed between him and women.

"Can I see it?"

"Okay, but be honest, now."

Taking the proffered pad, Blair could only stare in awe at the drawn rendition of himself. It was so him, right down to the wistful expression on his face that he knew came from his thoughts about Jim. He tried to imagine himself through Giselle's eyes, and was glad that at least he hadn't seemed to come across as sad and desperate as he had sometimes felt lately.

"Man, you are good. I mean very good. You should really be doing something with your talents. I have a few friends you could talk to, maybe get your foot in the door in the art world...I mean, it'd just be locally down in Cascade where I live, but it could be a start."

"Thanks, but you don't have to do that. It's enough that you let me use your 'perfection'. If you're going to be around for a few days, maybe you'd like to come over to my place and see my..." With a waggle of her eyebrows, she concluded, "...etchings."

Blair couldn't contain his laughter. "My mother warned me about women like you."

Giselle's laughter followed his to float on the air between them. "Well, okay, they're not really etchings, just some drawings. Stuff that I do for fun."

"I'm up here with my roommate, and he's got an injury, I probably shouldn't leave him for too long. In fact, I should be getting back now. But maybe before I have to go back home...."

Gathering up her supplies, and then rising to her feet, Giselle looked down at Blair the same way she had a little while earlier. "If you change your mind, or get some free time, it's the house over there, the one with the black sportscar parked outside. That's my brother's. He's a writer and I'm hanging out with him for awhile, while he finishes up a book. So, if you decide to drop by, don't be intimidated if a big guy answers the door."

"Whoa, how big?" Blair laughed. "Maybe you could just meet me here. This could be, like, our spot."

"Chicken." She extended her hand again. "Nice meeting you, Blair. You know where to find me. Thanks for the pose, and I'm glad you liked how the drawing turned out."

Blair got up, taking her hand in a gentle grip. "No, thank you, it was my pleasure, and I'd really like to come by. I'm not easily intimidated by big men. Comes from spending so much time with cops." At the look on her face, he said, "Long story. Maybe I'll tell it to you sometime."

With a final laugh, Giselle turned towards her house. "I'll hold you to that. Later, Blair."

"See you."

Blair turned back towards Stephen's house, picking up his pace when he once again thought about how long he'd been gone. His mind wandered as he walked, and for the first time in what seemed like a long time, it didn't settle on Jim, but on a beautiful woman that had made him smile.

Somehow life had it in for him, Jim decided. For six weeks Blair had been dragging around, and after only one day at the lake, he had a grin that wouldn't quit. And not because he was so happy to be away, to be with Jim, but because he had met someone. Some woman.

Typical. Jim wasn't surprised, just disappointed. He hadn't realized how he much he had pinned his vain hopes on spending the time alone with his partner, away from the usual distractions of their everyday life. Guiltily, he shifted his mind away from the fact that he had made plans with an ex-lover for the next day. Or that he hadn't yet mentioned it to Blair.

'But I would have,' Jim thought, 'if I could have gotten a word in edgewise.' And if Blair would have just once stopped smiling, he added.

After putting his knee through its paces, Jim had come to the conclusion that there was no reason to be secretive. It would be better to tell Blair about meeting up with Griff, give him the option of taking part in the fishing trip, and keep his own priorities straight (so to speak), concerning the two men--that he wasn't going to make any moves on either one.

But then, Blair had come back with a spring in his step, and a smile on his face, and Jim hadn't needed to have diagrams drawn to get the picture.

"Man, it's beautiful up here," Blair had said, kicking off his sneakers and heading to the fridge to grab some water. After taking a few quick gulps, he had turned to Jim. "How's your knee feel?"

"Fine. I did the exercises. I think it's coming along okay."

"Great." Still grinning, crossing over to plop down beside Jim.

"So, looks like the walk did you some good, huh?"

"Yeah, I met somebody. She's gorgeous. And talented." At the raised eyebrows on his partner's face, Blair clarified, "Damn, Jim. I don't mean it like that." As he flicked Jim on the side of the head, he added, "Sometimes, I worry about you, man."

And that had been that. Blair hadn't said another word about his mystery woman, but instead had thrown together a quick, light meal, running on about a multitude of other topics.

The words 'I met somebody today, too, Chief' stayed on the tip of Jim's tongue, but he found them hard to say, suddenly not wanting to talk about this man while Blair kept grinning about meeting a woman. He concentrated on nodding and grunting, in what he guessed were at least approximately the appropriate places, since Blair didn't miss a beat in his ongoing one-sided conversation.

Jim had escaped to bed as soon as he could do so without it looking like he was escaping.

Which was how he had come to be staring at the ceiling contemplating the unfairness of his life. For over an hour, sleep had evaded him as his mind whirled. It had been an eventful day, to say the least. From almost getting caught jerking off, by the inspiration of the impromptu session, no less; to running across the man with whom he'd had his most involved physical relationship ever; ending with Blair finding a new and feminine reason to smile, which had left Jim lying frustrated and confused in an unfamiliar bed.

Stupidly, somewhere deep down, he had thought that somehow, magically or miraculously, something would happen to change things between he and Blair. With a derisive snort, Jim berated himself. 'Yeah, something to make a normal, red-blooded straight man suddenly want his gay best friend. Shit, Ellison, you are a clich.'

Turning over, Jim buried his head under his pillow, blocking out the moonlight, and trying to shut off his brain. Taking deep breaths as Blair had taught him, he reached towards a state of calm that would allow him to finally fall asleep. He had to get up early to meet Griff, he reminded himself. Mind drifting, his eyes and limbs growing heavy, Jim didn't fight it as his thoughts took a lazy, sexual turn. He let himself float on the wave of easy pleasure as his dick hardened, and fuzzy, vaguely familiar images played out inside his head. He didn't bother with heightening the sensations, didn't move to take his throbbing flesh in hand, instead just let the low-level thrum accompany him to sleep. And, if in his dreams, light brown eyes changed to blue, and a long, lean body transformed to short and sturdy, he had forgotten it by the time he awoke the next day.

With a contented sigh, Jim closed his eyes, surprised that he felt so relaxed, especially since his night's rest hadn't turned out to be particularly restful. He had woken up nagged by a vague sense of disturbance, and had quietly gone about his morning routine telling himself that he had no reason to be nervous about seeing Griff and no reason to feel guilty about leaving Blair behind.

When he heard the rumble of what he took to be Griff's boat heading in his direction, he wrote a quick note to Blair and left it by the coffemaker which held the fresh pot of coffee that he had made. Still, as the boat pulled off, he tuned in automatically so that he could hear the steady sound of Blair's snoring over the noise of the motor.

The air had been slightly chilly when they had first set out, but by the time that Griff made it to where he wanted to stop, and they had both cast their lines, settling in to wait for the first nibbles, the sun had done its job of providing a pleasant heat. Jim dialed up his sense of touch a little, relishing the dual sensations of warm sunshine and the occasional cool breezes. Body relaxing, mind not on the actual activity of fishing, but instead enjoying the peace...and the company. Griff...who filled the silences with just the right amount of talk, and it reminded Jim that he had always appreciated the camaraderie they'd shared as much as the sex.

There weren't going to be any 'future Mrs. Ellisons' in his future, Jim acknowledged, and he needed to make a point of getting out more. Meet some people...some men. Just because he had met Griff through a case, and Blair had bounced into his life and become his partner, didn't mean that he could just sit and wait forever for someone to just drop into his lap.

The way that his relationship with Blair had developed had spoiled him, he decided. They had gone through more together than most people...most couples, and, so far, at the end of every day it was still 'Ellison and Sandburg'. Partners. Best friends. And though they had found each other because of Jim's senses and Blair's interest in Sentinels, they had stepped way past that long ago. Jim didn't think he'd ever felt as strongly about anyone. Bad enough that he had the sexual fantasies, but then he had helplessly...hopelessly...fallen in love.

All without even one date with the guy.

A sudden patch of intense heat on his leg drew his attention away from his wandering thoughts. Automatically, he adjusted his senses, and looked down to see a large hand resting on him, long fingers curled around the muscle of his thigh. Just knowing the source of it, seemed to cause the heat to travel through his whole body, like a brush fire radiating from its point of origin, rushing to his extremities before settling predictably as hot flashes in his gut and groin.

"You okay?"

Jim met Griff's eyes at the question. "Yeah." His voice croaked, but he shrugged it off. "Just...thinking."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Jim shook his head. He really didn't want to talk about it, wasn't sure what good it would do, but he realized that he probably could talk about it with Griff. Could tell him how five years later, he was still struggling with the same issues of love and sex. That when all was said and done, on a lot of fronts, he did indeed have regrets.

"Not that kind of thinking," he said, instead. "Just daydreaming."

Surprisingly familiar fingers massaged Jim's thigh gently for a few seconds, then stopped when Jim covered the hand with his own. 'I want to kiss him,' Jim thought. Just a kiss between two people who used to care about each other. Who still care about each other, he amended. He closed his hand around Griff's, and even though he didn't pull, the other man moved closer, causing Jim to tremble slightly with anticipation as his mind flashed on kisses past, and the idea of having more than just a fantasy for once, even if it were only for the afternoon. But he didn't quite make a move forward to meet Griff halfway.

He heard it first, or maybe felt it. A vibration, a distant bubbling...some sort of rippling that disturbed his senses, before the actual tug on his line registered. Startled, he jumped, jerking upwards, pulling on Griff where their hands were still clenched, wincing as Griff accidentally bumped against his sore knee.

"Shit, sorry, man." Griff apologized as he righted himself and went to see about the activity on Jim's fishing rod.

Jim managed to stand, flexing and massaging his knee a little before turning to help Griff who was already bringing in the catch.

Griff looked at the large fish struggling mightily on the line, and then sent a wry chuckle in Jim's direction. "Still reeling 'em in without even trying, huh, Jim?"

Smiling, but not answering, Jim reached over and removed the hook from the fish's mouth, before tossing the fish back into the lake.

Over his second cup of coffee, Blair read Jim's note for the third time:

'Blair - I ran into an old friend, and we're going out on the lake for a little fishing. Didn't want to wake you. I know you like sleeping in. Catch you later. Jim'

It seemed straightforward enough. Old friend, fishing trip, Jim letting him sleep in. Except that, though it was true that he enjoyed sleeping late whenever he could, he had gotten up early plenty of times to go fishing with Jim.

Fine. Jim wanted to fish with his 'old friend', and didn't want Blair tagging along? No problem. He had something to do, too...with a new friend.

Though the house was stocked, and Stephen's taste in food ran a little healthier than Jim's, Blair settled for eating dry cereal out of the box while pulling out clothes to wear.

Soon, he was walking towards Giselle's house, taking his time, enjoying the scenery as he retraced his steps from the day before. He looked out over the lake, noting the various boats here and there in the distance, wondering which one held Jim and his friend, and, for what was probably the millionth time in the past few years, wished that he had even one of Jim's heightened senses. Truthfully, he didn't think he'd really want to have the responsibility of Sentinel abilities, but every once in a while a situation (and not necessarily a situation that involved killing or kidnapping) would pop up where he thought having super hearing or super sight would have come in handy.

'Like spying on your best friend?' Blair asked himself. 'Get a grip, Sandburg!' It seemed things were getting out of hand. Next thing he knew, he'd end up simply tackling Jim one day on his way to the bathroom. He thought back to the previous morning, waking to find Jim standing in the early light...half-naked....

Tearing his mind away from the memory before it could develop into a full-blown fantasy, Blair picked up the pace. A pretty woman...an interesting pretty woman was just what he needed to refocus his attention and feel like he was back in the game.

Blair had been about to walk away from the house, after his knock on the door had gone unanswered, when the door suddenly opened. Giselle stood there, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Oh, hey," he said, "I'm sorry. Looks like I caught you in the middle of something. I can come back later."

"No, it's okay. Come on in. I just didn't hear the door at first." She motioned him in, and they moved further into the house. "I was working in the back. Make yourself at home while I just go put some things away."

She walked out of the room, leaving Blair to look around.

"Do you want something to drink?"

The question was called out from the other room, and Blair followed the voice. "Water would be fine. It was kind of a long--whoa!"

Blair stopped in the doorway to what appeared to be an artist's nook. Sunlight flooded the room, and in prominent display was a large canvas. The painting was of two men...nude...and kissing. A starkly erotic image of bodies entwined against just a solid background. Giselle turned, taking note of Blair's reaction.

"What do you think? I'm not quite satisfied with it yet."

"Wow," Blair answered, "you paint, too?" He moved closer. "This is good stuff. The style almost reminds me of..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the artist's signature in the corner, and he whirled to face Giselle. "You? That's you? You're Paree? But you're a--"

"If you say 'girl', I might be forced to get violent, and I'm killer with a paintbrush."

Blair turned a shade of red and stammered, "I didn't mean...I mean...I'm just surprised."

"There are actually a lot of women that have an appreciation for things homoerotic."

"I know. I've read studies about that. I didn't mean to sound narrow-minded, it's just that I was caught off guard. Not only are you talented, but you're world famous. And shit...here I was offering you some advice, yesterday."

"Well, I don't think that a few shows here in the States constitutes 'world famous', but thanks. And I appreciate the interest you showed yesterday. As much as I love painting naked men, sometimes it starts to feel like 'work', and I enjoy breaking away to do some portraits, and landscapes, or...whatever else catches my attention."

The smile that she gave Blair eased his embarrassment, and he started to relax.

"You didn't sign the sketch of me as 'Paree'..."

"No, the stuff I do for myself, just has my 'GG' signature. Come on; let's go sit down. I'll feed you, and you promised to look at my sketches."

They went into the living room area, and over iced tea and snacks, Blair went through the sketches that Giselle gave him, and she talked about her career, explaining certain pictures now and then.

"It's really a joke. You know, my name is Giselle Paris, so, 'Paris'--'Paree'. Both of my artist sig's are from a family nickname. When I was little, my grandfather used to call me 'Gigi of gay Paree', said in a really exaggerated French accent. Kinda funny now...considering. I never imagined that I'd be doing what I'm doing, though. Anyway, I was Gigi to everybody until I went away to college, still can't break the family of it."

"So how did you get from drawing this," Blair said as he held up a sketch of an old man and a child on the porch of a big house, "to painting...erotic art?"

Giselle laughed, and then her face grew serious.

"My brother is gay...well, bisexual...and he had a rough time dealing with it for a while. Being a black man, being a gay man...it wasn't always easy for him. And when he finally came to terms with it, he had to deal with the reactions of those close to him. The family wasn't always very supportive, and neither were some of his friends. I never had a problem with it, and the first time I met a man that he was dating, I got an idea. I drew a sketch of them to show him what I saw. How wonderful it looked to me...two people who obviously cared about each other. I wanted him to be reminded about how beautiful that is."

She picked up a book that was lying on the sofa near Blair, and flipped through some pages.

"It's in here, I think. It wasn't an erotic picture, but it showed some great chemistry and emotional intensity. The relationship didn't work out, the other guy had his own issues at the time, but they were together for a while. My brother had been keeping his relationships away from the family, but I popped in unannounced one day, and he had...company."

Abandoning the book in favor of another, she continued, "The erotic stuff came later. I did more sketches of my brother's friends and their lovers, and it gave me ideas, I guess. He showed a series of small paintings that I had done, just playing around with positioning bodies, to someone who told someone else, who asked me if I would consider doing more. And there you have it, Paree was born. Here it is..." Holding the book out to Blair. "The sketch that started it all."

Blair had been quiet, looking at different pictures, listening to Giselle talking, but he found his voice with a vengeance, as his eyes went wide with shock. "I know him!"

Nodding, Giselle said, "Yeah, my brother is pretty well-known. Controversial best-selling author and all that. Griffin Paris. You've seen his books?"

"No. I mean, yes, I have seen his books, but I know this other guy."

"Jim? You know Jim?"

"Yeah, he's my..." Blair hesitated. "We work together, live together."

With a puzzled look, Giselle asked, "You're a cop?" And at the shake of Blair's head, "Oh, that long story you mentioned. And the roommate with the injury."

Blair was without more words, so he just nodded. It was shocking to see Jim with another man. Even though the picture itself wasn't suggestive at all. You'd have to know that the two men were lovers to interpret it correctly, but Giselle had been right, there seemed to be an intense spark between them. And Blair was suddenly glad that he'd never seen Jim with anyone in person.

"I got to know Jim a bit, and I liked him a lot. He saved Griff's life once, you know? Caught a man that was stalking him. So, tell me, how does someone who's not a cop come to work and live with a police detective?"

And Blair told his story...the standard tale of closed societies and being an observer. Larry the ape and a warehouse explosion. Three years of living and learning and friendship.

"Wow, you could make a book out of that."

Blair laughed, "Yeah, I can see it now, 'The Observer by Blair Sandburg', topping the bestseller lists."

Giselle laughed along with him, "Well, it's something to think about anyway. Hey, we have to all get together, before you and Jim go back."

That statement stopped Blair dead in his tracks for a few seconds and then his mind was racing, making connections that he had ignored up till then. Giselle's brother. Jim's ex-lover. Jim's 'old friend'. Fishing. Shit. All of a sudden he wanted to get out of there, and be gone before Griffin Paris, that guy in the drawing that was looking at Jim with what Blair now saw as a hungry expression, came walking through the door.

"Yeah. We should. I'll check with Jim. Look, I better run. Thanks for showing me...everything."

"Sure. Do you know what time the guys plan on coming in? Griff was up and out before I gained consciousness this morning."

"Uh...no. Um...Jim didn't say. I was still asleep when he took off, too. It was nice seeing you again, Giselle. I'll...uh...see you later."

Blair was making his way to the door as he talked, trying not to look as if he were actually running. Once on the outside, he took a deep breath of fresh air, and with a wave, set off for Stephen's house, wondering how much more complicated his life could get.

"Uhnn."

Blair grunted in surprise as he opened the door to Stephen's house and met with resistance after only a few inches. He had barely registered the equally surprised sound from the other side when the door was pulled open and, carried by momentum, he stumbled forward, falling flush against what had, evidently, been blocking the door.

Jim. And he wasn't alone.

"Hey, hey, slow down, Chief. You okay?" Jim asked as he steadied Blair on his feet.

Blair nodded, heat rising to his face from the sudden body contact, not to mention his embarrassing entrance. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what the hell was Jim doing standing behind the door in the first place, but then he had a vivid flash of what Jim actually might have been doing, and he swallowed that comment.

"Sorry," he mumbled instead. "Wasn't expecting.... Didn't mean to barge in."

"No, Griff was on his way out. Oh, uh, Chief, this is an old friend of mine, Griffin Paris. Griff, this is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

Blair turned and got his first real look at Jim's ex-lover. Griffin was definitely older than in Giselle's sketch, but he wore it well. 'I guess success agrees with him,' Blair thought. It wasn't hard at all to see why Jim had been attracted to the man. He extended his hand, meeting Griff's in a firm greeting.

"Hey, man. How you doing?"

"Blair. I've heard a lot about you."

Blair gave Jim a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, and almost blurted out that he'd heard nothing about Griffin, but again he caught himself, aware of how it would sound.

"Yeah well, don't believe everything that Jim says. He tends to exaggerate my bad habits. Let me guess: 'hair all over the place, loud music, weird food'?"

With a low chuckle, Griff said, "No, actually he said what a great partner you were."

At that, Blair turned to Jim, his eyes showing both his shock and his pleasure, before addressing Griff again. "Really? Well, it goes both ways, man." The corners of his mouth turned up in a small grin.

"Look, Jim. I better run. I meant what I said about dinner. You know Gigi would love to see you again. Blair, you're welcome, too, of course."

"That's cool. She did mention something about us getting together."

Twin looks of astonishment met Blair's statement.

"You know my sister?"

"That's who you were ogling the other day?"

Blair threw a glare at Jim and his ogling remark, but spoke to Griffin. "We met yesterday out by the lake, and she sketched me. She does awesome work, man. She showed me some of her other stuff today, and it came up that you were her brother. I mean, I'd heard of you, her too, actually, though I didn't know she was who she was when I met her, and we figured out that we both knew Jim..." Flushed, Blair stopped, suddenly recognizing that he had been rambling, and with a shrug, he finished, "She said she wanted us all to get together."

Stifling a laugh, Griff said, "So, it's settled. Tonight for dinner?"

Jim clapped Griff on the shoulder and said, "Okay. Why don't you guys come down here then? I've learned my way around a kitchen since you last saw me, plus I'd like to fire up the grill."

"You're on. Seven okay?"

"Sure. Chief?"

"No problem."

"Seven it is. Looking forward to it," Jim said as he opened the door, seeing Griff out. The two men shook hands, and Jim hesitated only briefly before giving Griff a quick hug.

"See you later, Jim."

Jim nodded, then closed the door. An uncomfortable tension seemed to have settled in the room as he turned to face his partner.

"That was...well, I guess you know..."

"Yeah."

"And you actually met...?"

"His sister. She's nice."

"So's he."

"Seems like it."

"I'm going to go see what to do about dinner."

"I'll help you out in a few...if you want. I just need to wash up first."

There was a brief pause, and then, awkwardly, they both turned and went their separate ways.

Jim leaned back against the deck's railing, annoyed by the ache in his knee which suddenly seemed more insistent, and with the intense heat emanating from the grill where he had chicken breasts cooking, and with the smoke that wouldn't stop stinging his eyes.

Turning, he faced towards the lake, adjusting what he could to push the pain back some, and lessen the effects of the heat and smoke. He extended his hearing and caught the sound of Blair chopping vegetables in the kitchen, doing that half-mumbling/half-humming to himself thing that Jim knew he probably would never have paid attention to if not for the advantage of his Sentinel abilities. With a bit of effort, he dragged his attention from Blair, listening briefly in various other directions, before dialing down and letting the sizzle of the meat behind him provide the background noise.

Minutes later, he wasn't even aware that he reached out to concentrate on the almost-nothing sound of the lake's still waters. He just willingly drifted into the stretch of calm that seemed to call out to him in a very, very soft voice.

"Jim!"

Though the urgency came through loud and clear, the voice seemed far away, and it was the strong tang of a sharply, spicy scent that brought Jim back like a slap in the face.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here."

He struggled for control, trying to ease back into awareness, grateful that his voice sounded normal, wondering how long Blair had been trying to get his attention.

"But where were you?" Concerned blue eyes looked up. "What's going on, man?"

"Just lost in thought, Sandburg."

The concerned gaze narrowed into something disbelieving, and Jim braced himself for an interrogation, but Blair just asked, "You sure?"

Jim nodded and took a few deep breaths that he hoped looked like he was simply enjoying the fresh air.

Blair stared at him for a few seconds, then shrugged, saying, "Okay" before handing him a bowl and going inside.

When his nose twitched, Jim looked down at the bowl he held, finally registering the familiar smell--Blair's version of barbecue sauce. It was a unique blend of flavors that was a private joke between them because it had come into being, and had been tweaked and perfected, through a series of sensory exercises that Blair had used to test the sensitivity of Jim's tastebuds. A few of the ingredients in the sauce had originally been thrown in just to trick Jim, but after a while Jim and Blair had decided they were on to something, and 'Sandburg's Tricky Sticky Barbecue Sauce' was born. It had turned out to be a big hit at the various Major Crimes potluck functions and picnics.

Memories ran through Jim's mind, pleasant flashes of times spent with Blair, and he realized that the heat, the smoke, his banged-up knee hadn't really been bothering him that much. They had just been useful distractions from the real source of his aggravation.

Blair.

Blair, who had had sincerity on his face and in his tone when Jim had spilled his guts about his sexual preferences, and had said, "No big deal, Jim. I don't have a problem with that." But it seemed obvious to Jim that Blair did have a problem with it. Or maybe, not in theory, but in reality--face-to-face, best friend to ex-lover reality, Jim thought, Blair had a big problem with it. And it left Jim feeling totally justified in having kept the few men that he had actually seen the past couple of years away from the loft, away from his life with Blair. Justified, where before he had felt somewhat guilty for not trusting Blair to be true to his word on that score.

But Jim did wish that he had gone ahead and told Blair about Griff after that first surprise visit--he figured in any case he owed Griff that much, if not Blair. To at least be forthcoming about the relationship after so much time, after all the secrecy of before. Not that he had planned for things to turn out the way they had. As if he could have planned something so complicated. Where going away to spend some time with his best friend, he would run into an ex-lover, a male ex-lover, while said best friend was panting after some girl who turned out to be the ex-lover's sister, all leading to a dinner which had the makings to Jim of a sick, twisted double date. His relationship with Griff seemed to make Blair uncomfortable, which made him unsure about how he should act later when Griff came back. He could already sense the unsettling vibes between himself and Blair, and he knew that he wasn't looking forward to seeing Blair acting flirtatious and charming with Giselle, which wouldn't help matters any at all.

He turned the meat over, slapping some sauce on it distractedly, and tried not to give in to a feeling of dread about the night ahead.

When Jim came out of the bedroom, after a quick change of clothes, his dinner guests had already arrived. Griffin and Giselle were sitting in the living room area with Blair chatting amiably. 'It's just a dinner with friends,' he kept telling himself.

"Well, what do we have here?" he said with a grin, watching as everyone turned their attention in his direction.

"Jim!" Giselle exclaimed, rising to meet him.

"Gigi," Jim responded, grinning wider, "Sandburg was right. You are gorgeous. Looking better than ever."

Blair hissed Jim's name in a reproving tone, and the rest of the group laughed.

Giselle hugged Jim, and said, "Well, thank you both. And I thought we had a deal, Mister. You don't call me 'Gigi' and I won't call you 'Jimmy'."

"You're right, I forgot. I'll watch it. Let's not go down that road."

"Getting wiser in your old age, huh?

Absently running a hand over his thinning hair, Jim shook his head and sighed dramatically. "You know, it could be considered risky to insult the cook."

Laughing, Giselle gave Jim another quick hug. "Don't sweat it, Jim. You're looking damn fine. He's holding up pretty well, don't you think, Griff?"

"Not bad at all."

Jim recognized the deep, husky tone, and his eyes slid automatically to Griff's face, warming under the intense gaze and easy smile.

"So," Giselle continued, "is dinner ready? I'm starved. Blair and I didn't really eat lunch, we just nibbled all afternoon."

At the mention of Blair's name, Jim looked in that direction, trying not to show any reaction to the reminder that Giselle was the latest person to capture his partner's attention, and hoping that weren't any visible indications of how Griff had affected him. Blair was staring at him, and it caused him to take a step back from Giselle, feeling caught somehow by Blair's gaze and still fully aware of Griff's eyes on him as well.

Clearing his throat, he managed to say, "It's all done. Let's eat." Then he headed to the kitchen to get himself a beer.

Despite his initial uneasiness, Jim thought that the dinner had gone well. After drinking his beer, he had made himself relax and enjoy the food and the company. The barbecue was its usual success, with Giselle trying unsuccessfully to wangle the recipe from Blair. They settled in for some after-dinner conversation, which was really a round of storytelling. Griff and Giselle embarrassed each other with tales from their childhood. Jim told a story about the first time he dropped a gun as a fresh-faced army recruit, and Blair, never one to pass up an opportunity to regale an audience with anecdotes about his travels, entertained them with accounts of some of his adventures.

Jim found himself watching Blair closely, caught up in the animation and the energy as the younger man talked, but he was only half listening to the actual words, since he'd already heard most of the stories. In fact, he had lived the one that Blair ended up telling about jumping out of a plane over a Peruvian jungle. But still he laughed along with the rest when Blair got to the part about finding a lizard in his pants.

It occurred to him that Blair, too, filled up his silences, filled up his life, really. The kinship between them was so important to him, and also very different for him. For Blair, too, he thought. Blair touched a lot of lives, but didn't seem to settle into any, except Jim's. Was it worth risking that sort of connection for the chance to taste him in a kiss, or feel the hard rub of his body intimately against his own?

Resolutely, he answered himself with a 'no'. He was a big boy, he'd get over it, and his friendship with Blair would remain intact, and he'd enjoy the time that they spent together. And, he decided, he would enjoy the time that he had with Griff, too. He pulled his focus back from where he had been concentrating so totally on Blair's presence, in time enough to hear Blair wrapping up his story, and he made an appropriately clever comment, before encouraging Blair to tell Giselle another expedition tale. Turning to where Griff sat next to him on the couch, he started a side conversation, talking and laughing idly, while Blair tried to impress Giselle with a story about sleeping in trees.

It all seemed pleasant enough, normal enough. Griff was telling him about something funny that had happened on a plane trip from New York to Atlanta, and Jim was aware of the fingertips brushing lightly against his shoulder where Griff's arm was lying across the back of the couch, while Giselle was teasing Blair about exaggerating his exploits, and in a weird way, the four of them socializing seemed...pleasantly normal.

Maybe too normal, Jim thought, when Blair's heartbeat suddenly registered to his senses. A quick spike followed by Blair abruptly standing up. The typical Sandburg libido kicking in.

"I'm going to walk Giselle home now. I mean, Giselle, feel like taking a walk with me?"

Jim started to say something, but then Giselle answered, "Sure, Blair. A moonlight walk sounds nice." She got up, saying, "Well guys, good night", kissing both Griff and Jim on their cheeks, adding, "It was so good to see you again" to Jim.

The two of them left, Blair taking Giselle by the elbow on the way out. The soft click of the door closing behind them resounded in Jim's ear as loudly as if Blair had slammed it shut.

"So, now do you want to talk about it?"

The voice, so near his ear, startled Jim. He actually jumped. "Talk about what?" he answered, still staring at the closed door.

"Jim..."

Too close. Griff was too close, and Blair was too far away, or rather too close to someone else. Jim was on his feet, almost at the door before he caught himself and made an abrupt turn towards the kitchen. A beer was in his hand, and it didn't even register until the cold liquid was already sliding down his throat.

"Jim."

He focused, watching Griff walk towards him, and felt a rush, a reaction to the sensual way his friend moved, shaking his head in disgust that he couldn't control any of his emotions.

"Jim," Griff repeated insistently, taking the beer from Jim's hand. "You can talk to me, you know."

Jim's fingers twitched restlessly. He didn't know what to do with his now-empty hands. Didn't know what to do at all, really. Griffin and Blair. Couldn't go back, couldn't go forward. Stuck in a limbo of his own making.

"You've been so...preoccupied," Griff continued when Jim didn't answer, "And considering how things had been between us, I assumed that maybe you were unsure how to act towards me, or that you still had feelings for me. But that's not it, is it?"

"Griff...I..."

"Hey, I know. The heat is still there, but you've got your heart set on Blair, right?"

Shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders in a gesture of helplessness, Jim responded, "Blair is straight, Griff, he's off right now with your sister, and I do care about you."

With a snort, Griffin rolled his eyes. "There is such a thing as a bisexual male, you know. Besides, Gigi and Blair just met, and you look at Blair in a way that you never looked at me the whole time we were together."

"Shit."

"Hey, it's cool. We had a good thing. No regrets, remember? I know how you felt. I know that you cared." He sighed. "It's just that my timing with you is totally fucked, Ellison." He moved closer, and Jim's hands came to rest on his hips, as Jim sighed in turn. "And if I thought that you were only feeling some healthy lust for your partner, I'd have no problem with trying to, uh, redirect some of that for you. But that's not all it is, is it?"

"He's my best friend, my partner. That's all it is." He pulled Griff even closer, reacquainting himself with the feel of the body along his.

They were both hard, and they both knew it. It would be so easy...so good...

But Griff pulled away. "Maybe. But don't you think you owe it to yourself to find out? Without complicating things by starting something with me that you can't finish? You, me, Blair...we all deserve better than that, Jim." He traced the bulge of Jim's crotch with a fleeting touch. "Though it is very tempting." Chuckling softly as Jim's muscles trembled in response. "Sorry. Couldn't resist."

In a more serious tone, he continued, "Jim, I don't know how Blair feels, but do you think he's the kind of person that couldn't handle you telling him about what you're feeling? Or are you just afraid of what the answer might be...either way?"

"You don't understand.... It's just not that simple. But you're right about one thing; you don't need to be in the middle. I'm sorry for, you know..."

"Don't apologize for the, um, nicely developed side-effect." With a bob of his eyebrows and a playful grin, he added, "After all, how could you not react to a beautiful man, such as myself? Just because I'm not seeing anybody right now, doesn't mean I don't still have it."

"Trust me, you still got it." Jim grabbed Griff, indulging himself by planting a kiss as close to the full lips as he dared.

"Damn straight. Now, want me to go, and send the kid back here?"

Jim stiffened, reminded again of who Blair was with and what he was probably doing, or at least thinking about doing. "No. I mean, you can go if you want. But I'd like you to stay a while. Leave Blair to his date."

Griff picked up Jim's neglected beer, took a sip, and handed it back to him. "Okay, here. Let's sit back down, at least."

When they were seated back on the couch, Griff said, "You're not going to talk to him, are you?"

"I don't know."

"Jim..."

"I just don't know, Griff. We're.... I just don't know."

"There are much worse things than taking a chance. Don't not do something that you'll regret later."

With a sigh, Jim settled for picking up his beer, and with a few deep swallows, he drained it down.

Moonlight, laughter, the gentle brush of their fingertips as he and Giselle strolled along--they all had a calming effect on Blair. And after a while, his mind let go of the disconcerting memory of the casually intimate way that Griff had touched Jim, the uncomplicated air to their conversation, the ease with which they had sat so closely together.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed Jim somehow. That he hadn't passed some crucial test of their friendship. But he could fix that...would fix it. For the rest of their time at the lake, and afterwards...whatever Jim and Griff decided to do. Or Jim and any man, he added. He would let Jim know that it wasn't necessary to conceal part of his life, especially not from him. They were better friends than that.

"You okay?"

Blair refocused on his surroundings and noticed that they were almost to Griff's house.

"Yeah, it's just so peaceful out here." He looked at her. "And beautiful." And they both knew that he didn't mean just the scenery.

At the door, Blair held her hand, thanked her for coming to dinner, thought about kissing her, and then thought about kissing Jim. Which only made him think about what was happening back at Stephen's house. He didn't want to go back there, catch them in the middle of a make-out session on the couch, or, even worse, find that they had gone off to Jim's bedroom for something more. The idea of being with Giselle became more appealing; to lose himself in the soft, sweet sensations of pleasure with her, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He didn't know her well enough for that...but he'd settle for the kissing...

Giselle moved closer, taking his face in her hands, and he shuddered with the relief of having the decision taken from him, that she seemed to be on the same wavelength, even if his reasoning wasn't quite right. Their eyes met, and he was pleased to find himself responding to her warmth and her beauty with genuine desire.

"Blair..." She held his face still, her gaze steady. "Are you gay?"

He nearly choked, his thoughts running wild. 'Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Is this how every encounter with a female is going to turn out for the rest of my life? What am I doing? What aren't I doing? What the hell is going on?' Finally, he managed to sputter out something that sounded vaguely like "What do you mean?"

She dropped her hands. "Sorry to ask that way. I mean, it's not that I don't sense some interest from you.... Look, come inside, let's talk."

Blair plopped down on the couch, his face in his hands, feeling the shift as Giselle sat next to him.

"It's Jim, isn't it?" she asked.

Her only answer was a strangled sort of groaning sound from behind Blair's hands.

"There was some...tension there, and at first I thought it was disapproval on your part about Griff and Jim's relationship. But you didn't seem even slightly homophobic before. Quite the opposite, in fact. And obviously, you and Jim are close. So, I sort of made a leap. I'm sorry if I'm wrong, but I don't think I am. I've had fun spending time with you, but before we did anything...more, I needed to know. Because I don't think your heart would really be in it."

With a sigh, Blair leaned back heavily into the couch. "You know, I used to have a pretty enviable love life. But lately, it's just the pits."

"Maybe because you're not where you want to be?"

'Good grief,' Blair thought. 'This is going to be my life.'

"Am I right, Blair?" Giselle persisted.

"I...I have some feelings for him..."

"So, since you know about his sexuality, what's the problem?"

"I'm not crazy enough to think that every gay man is going to want me or anything."

"Hmph. You may be wrong there, but anyway, we're talking about Jim."

"We're best friends. He doesn't like me that way."

"Maybe, maybe not. But why won't you find out?"

"I'd rather not mess things up."

"Blair, you're not just talking about hopping into bed with the guy, right?"

"Why are we having this conversation?"

"You're right. I'm way out of line, here. Griff keeps telling me that my mouth will get me in trouble."

Unable to help himself, Blair made a face at Griff's name.

"Hey," Giselle laughed, landing a playful punch to Blair's arm, "that's my brother. But since I've already jumped in it, why won't you talk to Jim?"

Blair shook his head, but after a minute he started talking. "I had a bad experience when I was young. It's made me a little...gun-shy." Followed by a few snorts of derisive laughter. "In fact, I've concentrated my efforts totally in the other direction since then. It was better dealing with women."

At the expression on Giselle's face, Blair clarified. "It wasn't abusive or anything. It was right before my eighteenth birthday, my sophomore year in college, and I had been seeing this guy, Rick, who was a senior on the football team. It had happened so fast, I had been tutoring him, and I knew that I was attracted to him, but I didn't do much socializing. Freshman year, I just hit the books. Nobody was interested in the geeky sixteen-year-old kid. I got used to being on my own. But after a few sessions, Rick seemed interested, and before long we were...well I guess you wouldn't call it 'dating'. But we were sleeping together and I had fallen for him...hard."

"But...?"

"Well, I got caught hanging around the locker room one day waiting for Rick after practice, and a bunch of the guys started harassing me, calling me names and stuff, and when Rick came out, he didn't stop them... he sort of joined in. I didn't expect him to say, 'Leave my boyfriend alone', but it hurt that he didn't even..." Blair sighed. "He tried to apologize later, but we weren't even friends after that. And that summer, the girls started paying more attention to me, and I was happy enough with that. I never went to another football game, though. Not even senior year when I dated the head cheerleader."

"Blair..."

"I know, he was young, he was a jerk, it was a long time ago, get over it. And I have sort of. But every time I've been attracted to some guy over the years, I remember how much more of a risk it can be... how much can be at stake. And on the other hand, I do love women, and geekiness seems to have become pretty popular." He rolled his eyes, giving Giselle a smile.

Giselle gave a little smile in return, saying, "But Jim--"

"Is a cop. He would have a lot at stake. Besides, I'd never even seen him with a guy...until today. I mean, he told me when I moved in with him, but that's it."

"Blair, surely you know that when it comes to love, there's always a risk. Something is always at stake. By the way, Griff loved Jim very much." After a moment's pause, she added, "But Jim was never in love with him."

Blair jerked around to stare at her. "But..."

"I can't tell you all the details, but the timing wasn't right."

"I bet the timing is damn near perfect right about now."

Giselle took a deep breath and huffed out loudly. "Okay, Mr. Observer, one last comment, and then I'll go back to minding my own business. Have you ever even noticed how Jim looks at you?"

"What do you mean?"

All he got in return was a stare.

The wheels started turning in Blair's mind. "I mean he likes me...cares about me...okay, loves me. But we're friends and partners. We've been through a lot together. But he couldn't..."

"Couldn't he?"

Could he? "No...he's never..."

"But, isn't it worth a shot? Or are you going to let your past keep deciding your future?"

"It's not really that. I've never thought that Jim would treat me that way, but I didn't want him getting involved in something that could hurt him. I mean, gay cops.... But I knew that if he ever made a move in my direction, I wouldn't turn him down."

"Blair, does he have any idea that you might be attracted to men, much less him?"

"No."

"Well?"

Well, okay. He could do something about that. He turned to Giselle, bright smile on his face, and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks. And forgive me for the rather lame clich, but you're going to make somebody very happy one day."

With her own smile, Giselle said, "That's not lame at all. I'm quite proud of how great I am."

She winked at him, which made him laugh, then he said, "And if it wasn't for...you know...I'm sure I would have put way too many miles on my car trying to see you again."

"Damn straight."

They both laughed as they walked to the door.

But suddenly Blair stopped. "I can't leave. Shit, I can't leave."

"Why not?"

"Griffin is there. Griffin is there."

"Yeah, and you can't change that as long as you're here."

"I can't barge in on them. I don't want to barge in on them."

"Blair, you're getting weird. Go. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Yeah right."

Giselle pushed Blair gently out the door. "Out. We'll talk later."

When Blair was gone, she leaned back against the closed door, hoping that she hadn't made a mistake, tossing out a silent apology in her brother's direction. If she had screwed something up, he was going to kill her.

The house was quiet when Blair got there, which wasn't a surprise since he had noticed Griff's car was no longer parked out front behind Jim's truck. But it was also dark inside, which meant no Jim sitting on the couch reading or listening to music. 'Or waiting up for me,' he thought, unquestionably disappointed at that. It meant that he missed the chance to feel out how things had gone with Griff...if he would be totally out of bounds by mentioning his feelings.... A day late and a dollar short.

He looked down the hall. Jim's door was closed and no light leaked from under it, and Blair couldn't make himself take any steps in that direction.

It was over an hour later that he finally went to his own room after nervously moving from spot to spot, catching himself staring down that darkened hallway at that closed door, time and time again. Finally making himself go in the other direction, down a similar corridor, to a similar room, to his own bed. A few more days and they'd be back home, and things would settle back to normal. And that would be good. Good enough. He didn't want to lose what he already had.

Jim finally rolled over to let sleep claim him. He had managed to keep from reaching out and monitoring Blair too closely. Not wanting to know what Blair would smell like, how his heart would beat, what private thoughts might spill free as he half-mumbled/half-hummed to himself after being with Giselle. But even so, he couldn't miss the restless movements that echoed loudly in the dark quiet of the late hour.

Not too long ago, he would have gotten up, hung around the edge of Blair's space, giving him a chance to chatter away about his date, but instead he had lay still. Waiting. Waiting for Blair to just go on to bed, because he knew how stupid it would be for him to lie waiting for Blair to come to him. And, at last, Blair had done so, gone down that other hall for the night, giving Jim the chance to close his eyes and chase dreams.

Several hours later, the sun began to make its climb in the sky. The changing colors reflecting off of the water shone through the glass, brightening the room that lay between where Jim and Blair slept in separate beds on opposite ends of the house.

Blair woke with a start. Breath hitching, heart beating fast, and he scrambled to remember what he had been dreaming about, but it was lost, receding faster and faster as he blinked his eyes and came more completely awake.

He got out of bed, feeling rumpled and edgy, and went in search of juice or coffee, or maybe just a quiet moment out on the deck in the early morning sun.

It startled him, though he didn't know why, to walk into the living room and find Jim standing at the sliding glass doors looking out over the water. He shouldn't have been surprised. After all, it was one of the most common sights of his life--Jim staring out at his surroundings, silently seeing as only Sentinels can, thinking his thoughts. Even this beautiful, semi-nude, first-thing-in-the-morning Jim wasn't unusual. It was familiar to his eye, and, in his fantasies, even to his touch.

He approached slowly, his footsteps almost soundless to his ears, trying not to disturb Jim or break the spell that seemed to drive him closer as his heart thudded and his insides melted. Unconcerned about how hard he was getting inside his boxers. Reactions he had denied too long, ignored too many times. Indications of how very much in love he was with Jim.

And maybe that look of love that Jim gave him wasn't just friendly or fraternal. Maybe it was more. Maybe he had just been missing the point for a long time.

Standing close behind Jim, he could feel the intense heat, even without any heightened senses. Bathed in sunlight, Jim was soaking it in, radiating it back, making Blair think about never being cold again. Inside or out.

He stepped even closer, resisting the urge to lick a line up Jim's spine. Though now for some inexplicable reason, he was sure where that would blissfully lead.

First things first.

"I think I've been wrong about some things." Soft, but strong.

He hazarded a touch, one hand going to Jim's hip, his fingers touching cotton, his thumb brushing against wonderfully warm bare skin.

"I know I've been wrong about some others."

He let his other hand mimic the first, anchoring himself, determined to stand firm and follow through.

"I thought that losing myself in a long line of willing women meant that I wouldn't keep feeling attracted to men."

A slight catch in Jim's breathing, a tiny quiver of his muscles.

"I thought that I was protecting myself, making sure that I wouldn't repeat mistakes made in the past."

He moved his thumbs in a calming gesture, though it was more for his own benefit, than for Jim's.

"I was totally wrong about that. I was just lying to myself, and justifying my fear."

Moving fractionally closer, and no longer able to stop himself from placing a gentle kiss between Jim's shoulder blades.

"I thought you could only love me as a friend, or a brother."

He tightened his grip on Jim's hips, fingers slipping inside the waistband of their own accord.

"Was I wrong about that, too, Jim?"

His fingers were burning, scorched from the heat inside Jim's clothes, and he felt a strong craving to set his hands on fire with Jim's flesh--the hot hardness of his erection, the warm fullness of his balls, the heated skin stretched tight over his muscular ass.

Jim didn't answer him, and Blair couldn't repeat himself, but then Jim was moving, turning until strong hands gripped Blair by the shoulders. Blair raised his head to look into Jim's face to see eyes vibrant with emotion.

"Yes, you were wrong about that, too." Jim's voice was also quiet, but Blair felt that statement rip through him with such force that it left him shaking and babbling.

"Oh good, oh good, that's good. I know I should have told you, back when you first told me, but I just...I was.... I'm sorry. Maybe if you had known, you...or I...we...."

Jim stopped the faltering flow of words, and Blair was ridiculously happy that the chosen method was a kiss. A hard, searching kiss, gamely discovering new territory. Odd but yet familiar, Blair thought, to be kissing a man, having a large, firm body against his own, and he felt so stupid for wasting so much time, denying himself the chance for the kiss that was making his blood kick ass as it flowed through his veins.

His hands abandoned the exploration of Jim's back, eagerly gliding lower, pressing Jim closer so that their hard-ons could get acquainted even if it was through two layers of material.

Or not.

Jim's hands were pushing Blair's shorts down, and Blair followed suit, until naked, impatient cocks were thrusting between them, leaving slick trails on their fevered skin. And Jim was saying 'I love you' in Blair's ear, and all Blair could say was 'oh shit.'

It took a great effort for Blair to push away, to tear Jim's hands from where they were teasing the cleft of his ass, to get Jim's eyes to focus as he tried to do the same. To collect himself enough to try to form actual sentences.

And it didn't seem funny at all, that the first time he told Jim that he loved him, they were standing in front of big glass doors, shorts caught at their thighs, his hair wild from sleep and Jim, their lips swollen, their dicks engorged and ready for action.

"You need to know that I love you, too. Really. It's not just a sex thing. And nothing happened last night with Giselle...except I got my eyes opened."

"Okay."

Blair waited, but Jim didn't say anything more, and he told himself that he didn't need to hear Jim say that nothing had happened with Griff, either.

"So, what do we do now?" At Jim's expression, Blair had to laugh. "I'm serious."

"I am, too. Right now, I want to make love to you, preferably horizontally so that I can take it easy on my knee. And then we can talk about spending at least the rest of our lives trying not to drive each other crazy."

Blair couldn't argue with that...didn't want to argue with it. He took Jim by the hand, used his other to tease Jim's dick back to full hardness, and together they made their fumbling, stumbling way down the corridor to Blair's room, where, in true Sandburg fashion, he had all of the necessary supplies.

The noonday sun was warming them when Blair opened his eyes, already used to the feel of Jim's arms around him, Jim's legs holding him in place. He shifted, trying to figure out what was digging into his back, reaching around and pulling free the unopened box of condoms, sending the unused bottle of lube rolling towards the foot of the bed.

Once they had gotten to the bed, their boxers in a cozy heap on the floor, touches and kisses had grown frantic. Suppressed need and pent-up desire rearing up and taking control. An explosive climax had been the common goal, and had been quickly achieved. Blair had used the corner of the blanket to clean them up a bit, not letting Jim get up for wet cloths or dry towels. Heartbeats settled and sated flesh rested, eyelids growing heavy as they both drifted off thinking how the bright reality of finally coming together was so much better than the glorious dreams they'd each had over the years in the dark of night.

Jim's eyes opened, flaring with passion at the expression on Blair's face, and Blair found himself searching for the errant bottle of lube with his toes.

"It's been awhile since I've had sex with a man," Jim told him.

Blair was selfishly pleased and relieved at that statement, the specter of Griff and what had happened the night before disappearing like magic.

"It's been way, way longer for me, man. But I'm think I'm up for it."

Blood left his brain, traveling at dizzying speeds to his cock, and he felt Jim's dick stirring in answer, growing harder where it lay against him. He let his eyes stray downward to the defined perfection of Jim's chest, and the flat nubs waiting there to be teased by a tongue or teeth. And Blair was happy to oblige, sucking until they stood up on their own. But he didn't linger too long, there were too many other places calling to him, causing his mouth to water at the prospect. A quick trail of nibbles down smooth, rippled flesh to Jim's waist, lower still to the rampant cock. Large and pulsing in his mouth, leaking stickiness that tickled the back of his throat, while Jim moaned, surprising Blair with the noises he made. Not quiet reserve, but raw, lusty sounds.

Blair turned Jim over, admiring the line of neck to shoulder, the strong sweep of his back, the way his rear end rose in a masculine curve. Lowering his head, Blair sent his tongue grazing up the groove of Jim's ass, then spread the cheeks wider, licking again, over and over, stopping now and then to pay special attention to the small opening. His cock throbbed insistently at the dark, sweet taste, and at the way Jim arched his back in a plea for more, and at the rough way that Jim called out to him. Finally, he moved up until he was lying full out on top of Jim, his cock twitching in anticipation as it aligned itself in the split of Jim's ass.

"Are you going to quit playing, and do something?" Harsh, gasping words that almost made Blair come.

He calmed his breathing, forcing an answer free. "I'm not sure...I've never...maybe you should..."

Jim had him flat on his back before he could take his next breath.

"Whatever you want, Chief. However you want it. I thought that since it had been longer for you, maybe you'd like to start out on top."

Swallowing hard, Blair nodded. "That would be good, but I've only ever been..."

"Chief, do you know what to do?"

"Yeah."

Kissing Blair on the lips, Jim said, "Then do me. I'd love to be your first."

"And my last."

"As long as that doesn't mean that today will be your last time."

They got into a position that wouldn't hurt Jim's knee too much, and Jim silently vowed to double his efforts at getting it back to full strength.

Blair took his time, using slippery fingers to open Jim up for him, easing into the tight channel, and he couldn't wait to fill Jim up, thrust into him, make him feel the sensation that Blair suddenly found wasn't so hard to remember at all, even after denying it for over ten years. He slid inside in stages, pushing slightly, waiting for Jim's counter thrusts, adding the slickness of more lube a few times just to be sure, until he was in, Jim's ass flush against him, and clenched tightly around him. Then he moved a little, then moved a lot, Jim eventually catching on to the rhythm and picking up the pace, perfect fucking synchronization. An act as old as time that felt precious and rare and so right that Blair thought his heart might burst at the same time as his dick let loose a flood, filling the rubber inside of Jim's ass.

Belatedly, he reached between Jim's legs only to find Jim's wet hand and soft cock as evidence of Jim's own orgasm.

"Sorry, man. It just felt so good."

"Don't sweat it, Chief. Next time your ass is mine."

This time, Blair didn't wait for Jim to start mumbling about getting clean, he pulled out carefully, discarded the used condom, and helped Jim to his feet. Together, they made their unsteady, weaving way to the bathroom for a shower.

When they were clean and refreshed, they ate, looking to replenish their energy, and went down the hall in the other direction to Jim's room, to do it all over again.

One Year Later -

Jim let himself into the loft just as the sun was about to rise. His keys made a strange sound and skittered to the floor when he tried to drop them into the basket by the door. Cursing softly, he bent to pick them up, and noticed the package sitting on the small table in the way.

He picked it up, carrying it into the kitchen where a dim light was still burning, blinking his tired eyes. An all too familiar thought flashed in his head--that he was getting too old for stakeouts. He started to leave the package for later, the idea of curling up next to Blair being what he wanted most to do at that moment, but he glanced at the return address, and smiled, opening it and pulling out the book that he had guessed would be inside. 'When Daylight Comes' by Griffin Paris. A piece of paper fluttered to the counter when he flipped open the cover. Scrawled inside were the words, 'No regrets' and underneath that, 'Well, it seemed to work the first time' followed by the familiar 'G'. Jim laughed and picked up the paper, reading Griff's sprawling script.

'Jim -

There's an old saying about letting go of worries because a year later you'll never remember what had been bothering you. I know you remember exactly what was on your mind this time last year, and I'm glad that things have worked out so well.

Thanks for letting me 'borrow' the story behind you and Blair for this book. I hope you like how it turned out... but no, Josh and Ben aren't you guys, just dealing with the same issues.

I'll be doing a publicity tour so I won't be up at the lake much this summer, but, when I come to Washington, I'll call. Happy Anniversary, man. I love you. Give my love to Blair, too.

Griffin'

At the bottom he had added, 'P.S.: Gigi sent Blair her anniversary gift for you two, and yes, she behaved.'

Jim looked around, but when he didn't see any other packages, he set up the coffeemaker and went up to bed.

Up to Blair.

A year later and finding Blair in bed waiting for him still caused Jim's heart to skip a beat. He took in the evidence that Blair had tried to wait up for him--body sprawled half sitting/half lying against the railing, the cordless phone on the bed near his hand, glasses still on his nose, though they had slipped way down, an open book in his lap. Added to that, Blair was snoring...and drooling.

Jim fell in love all over again.

He was about to get undressed when he noticed what was propped up on the dresser, leaning back against the wall. Walking over, he also noticed a note.

'Blair -

This is for you and Jim. I hope you two like it. Love and happiness forever. I love you guys!! (I had ideas for another painting, but I wasn't sure how Jim would take it. Give me a call, and we'll talk. <smile>)

Giselle'

The painting was Jim and Blair standing at the edge of the lake, holding hands, looking out over the water, watching the sky change colors as the sun began to rise. You couldn't see their faces, but you could feel the love. Jim blinked several times to clear his eyes and tried to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat.

He undressed quickly, moving the phone and Blair's book out of the way, taking the glasses off of Blair's face, pulling him close.

The day was dawning brighter, filtering through the skylight, and, inside him, Jim could feel the promising pleasure of starting another new day with Blair in his life emerge as hot and large as the sun itself.

"You're home." Sleepy blue eyes peered at him.

"Yep. Go back to sleep, it's still early."

"You okay? Everything go down all right?"

"Nothing happened. I would have called you."

"Okay. Get some rest then."

"Griff sent us the new book, and the painting is beautiful."

Blair raised his head. "You're beautiful."

Jim laughed quietly. "I think you have that title, Chief."

"We're beautiful, then," Blair mumbled into Jim's armpit as his head fell back down.

"Okay. I can handle that."

"You're not sleepy?"

"More tired, than sleepy."

"Okay, but you might want to try to catch some z's, because I'm going to be fully awake in a few hours, and I plan on doing some celebrating. I think you'll want to be up for it."

"Is this early morning attitude thing going to last forever with you?"

"Probably."

"Okay. Just checking. I love you."

"Love you, too, man. Remember--two hours. Rest up."

Blair snuggled in closer, and Jim's arms automatically tightened in response. Light flooded the room, and a pleasant heat from the sun and Blair and the love he felt inside warmed him, relaxing his body. His gaze fell on the painting, and he smiled, staring at it until his eyes finally grew heavy, and he followed Blair to sleep.

THE END