Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Author's webpage: http://www.wn.com.au/firefrog/senwarn.htm

Author's notes: Thank you to Kelly, beta reader fantasticus, and a nice person to know. Especially when you have one neuron left, only half a story, and the beginings of 'Fairy Light Madness' is creeping up on you. Thanks Kelly.

Dial D For Denial.

By Fire Frog.

"Hey Jim, congratulate me man! I just got a new job! Naomi is as good as aboard that cruise ship!" Blair bounced into the loft, keys sailing for a touchdown in the basket, backpack - ignoring house rule nine - was dropped by the door.

/Great, what's boy genius got himself into this time?/ Blair had been all plans since he found a list his mom had written when she was twenty. It listed all the things she wanted to do with her life. She had apparently done all but one of them, a world tour on a cruise ship, and Blair desperately wanted to give her that. "Spill it, what hard worked oppressors of the masses was willing to put you on, Sandburg?"

"Dreamtime Inc, I'm gonna be a telephone pleasure enhancer!"

Jim frowned. Blair had that look, the one that said, please don't listen too closely to what I just said, just nod encouragingly. The Look, in short, that spelt Trouble. He quickly interpreted telephone pleasure enhancer via his internal Sandburg lexicon.

"You're going to be a phone sex operator?!" He stared incredulously at his friend, who was now hopping from foot to foot, smile melting from his face. "No! No way Sandburg! Not a hope in hell! Not going to happen. Nixnay on the exsnay. No partner of mine..."

"Oh yeah, oh god...oh yeah, so hot..so...yaargh!" Blair shrieked and slapped a hand over the mouth of the phone. "<Jim, cut that out, you want me to lose my job? I'm with a customer here. You're real mature man. Not.>"

Jim grinned as Blair struggled to get the ice cube he'd dropped down the neck of his top out before it melted.

Blair was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, schoolwork spread out around him. He had two pencils tucked behind one ear; glasses perched on the end of his nose, and was dressed in a colorless sweat suit with holes at the knees and ink stains on the sleeves.

/How can he look so cute?/

"Hey," The detective smirked aloud, "from your lips to God's ears buddy."

"<Shut up Jim...>" Blair took his hand off the telephones mouthpiece and spoke into the receiver. "Uh, hello? You still there?"

"Hi, yeah - was that your boy friend? You were arguing with your boyfriend! He sounds like a big mean bastard. I bet he's gonna want a make-up fuck. I bet he's huge. He's gonna drag you over to the bed, rip off those tight shorts you told me about and fuck your ass raw. Oh yeah.... Oh Yeah! <there was a loud grunt followed by rapid panting> God, <pant>. That was intense. I'll be phoning 'you' back sugar. Bye now <click>."

Blair sat, the special red, 'business only' mobile phone still pressed to his ear, feeling Jim's eyes boring holes through the back of his head. His face was hot with embarrassment. Jim just 'had' to have listened in to that.

"How long will this go on?" The voice was chilly, far colder than the ice cube had been.

"Just a couple of months." Blair lowered the phone slowly, resting it on a copybook.

"I'm going to Simon's for a beer. Don't wait up." The tall man snatched up his jacket and stalked out the loft, leaving an unhappy guide behind him.

"We get a new script every week, so we don't get boring - and the dedicated phone, of course. Apart from that we make it up on our own."

Simon just looked at him over the rim of his coffee cup. Jim had told him about Sandburg's new job last night. Had told him at length, in fact. Now he wanted to hear from someone not experiencing an impotency melt down. Jim Ellison, unable to control 'his' Blair, was not a pretty sight. Time to pass the vibe on.

"On your own?"

Blair gulped. There was a world of innuendo in those three words. He suddenly felt like an eight-year-old, declaring he was off to discover the Americas, and could he borrow his dad's hat? It was vitally important the Simon both listened to him and not laugh at what he said.

Blair considered himself lucky that Jim had only shared his knowledge with Simon. Not that he was ashamed about his new job. Nope. It was just that he got enough stick as 'Hairboy' as it was. No way he could face the bullpen if they knew his new professional name was 'The Lovely Long Haired Biker.' His persona was a tall, slim, multi pierced motorbike rider who like to get personal with his tool kit in open fields. He was also a red head, Blair had always wanted red hair, and..oh, um, Simon was 'looking' at him.

"Yeah, the uh, hot talk and some um, sucking noises." /Ok, shouldn't have added that last bit./ Blair squirmed as Simon covered his eyes and held up a hand for silence.

"Stop, I think I know more than enough. This will only last until you have enough money for your mothers boat cruise, right?"

<nod>

"And it will take, how long did you say?"

"Well it was going to be for a couple of months, but I've already picked up a pretty big clientele, so Marsha thinks if I keep working every day I could reach my goal by the end of 'this' month."

"Marsha runs this...business?"

"Yeah." Gee man, can you make it sound 'more' sleazy?

<sigh> "Ok Blair, I'm not happy with this, but it's not illegal and I know how important your mom is to you. So long as it doesn't interfere with police work, I can't see any objections from this end. I just wish you could have found another way."

"With my time schedule? Simon, trust me, I looked. The only other jobs available where I could make that kind of money, with the time flexibility I need, were in creative chemistry or hidden horticulture. Or required I get a lot closer to my clientele, if you know what I mean."

"Sandburg, don't go there, not even in jest." Simon surprised himself at the anger in his voice. Ok, so he was feeling bad that the kid had to do this to make the money. Especially when with all the work he did around here, he should have been easily able to treat his mom, if only he had been paid for it. He rubbed wearily at his eyes, feeling the weight of one more pressure on his shoulders.

"Blair, this sort of thing, it seems easy, but there are hidden traps. If you feel like it's getting to much for you, just pull out. I think Naomi would rather miss her boat trip, than to have anything happen to you. Now get out of here so Jim can come in and ask if I managed to talk you out of it. Go, shoo." He gestured at the door.

"Thank you Simon." Blair did that little aborted movement he did when he wanted to give someone a hug, then scurried out the door.

/How can he be so cute?/

"Did you manage to dissuade him sir?"

Jim's sharp blue eyes looked at him from the doorway. Silently calling on the ancient and mysterious powers of the coffee god, Simon took a sip of his cooled beverage and gestured his best detective in. Telling him to shut the door behind him, he prepared to start the battle.

"I didn't even try. In fact I wished him well. Blair has a right to get another job."

"Simon! I don't believe you! What...what if he's picked up by vice?"

"Dreamtime is a legitimate business Jim. Sandburg has every right working for them."

"Except he'll end up in trouble, you know it, I know it. How could you be so irresponsible as to encourage the kid to..."

"Oh blow it out your hat Jim. There's no reason why he shouldn't do this, except that it makes you and me uncomfortable. If Sandburg doesn't have a problem with it, neither should we."

"But his standing in the department..."

"Is unofficial, and binds him to no conduct protocol. Anyway, this is no worse than those calendar shots Ronda did to help pay for her wedding."

"I think there is a difference. Sir."

"Let him do this, Jim. He's a grown man, so are you. You'll handle this. You hear me? You handle this."

/Yeah, right./ Jim Ellison squirmed in his seat, jeans gone tight and uncomfortable. /I'll handle this./ Besides him in the cab of the truck, Blair was taking his sixth caller for the night. They weren't officially on a stake out for another half hour. So Blair was blocking out questions on his lap top, red phone tucked under his chin and moaning sensuously as he reprised the 'monkey wrench' script he'd gotten that morning. To start with he'd been a little restrained with this one, but by the time his lunchtime clients were through he had relaxed and was really getting into it.

Jim was finding the performance distracting. Almost to the point of driving the younger man home. But the more Blair 'worked' the sooner he stopped. He was contemplating what that meant to him personally when it hit him. The Need.

Ellison glanced at his partner. Blair was focused on the screen, he'd put down the phone and was scratching an itch on his head using the end of a pencil.

"Just going to check the perimeter Chief, keep the door locked, don't let anyone in."

"Yeah yeah. Ok." Blair waved his pencil at him to show he'd heard and went back to scratching. Jim got out, taking care to lock the door of the truck behind him.

Going around to the other side of the building Ellison slipped two items from inside his jacket. One his mobile phone, the other a Dictaphone with only two things recorded on it. 'Talk to me' and 'more.' They had been rendered with a voice synthesizer.

With a racing heart, Jim dialed the number, pushing play on the recorder as the call was picked up at the other end.

"Talk to me." As Blair went smoothly into his performance Jim undid his fly and let his aching cock out of its confines. Leaning back against the wall he let the hypnotic voice lead him further into arousal, not bothering to fist himself, just listening till he exploded, then gently hit disconnect.

Back at the truck he found his partner frowning at the mobile in disgust. Reaching over Jim took the phone and spoke in his best 'listen, punk' voice into the receiver.

"I am giving you one chance and one only, you call this number again and there will be a trace on it. I'll find you, and when I get you.." there was a click as the line went dead and Jim handed it back to his partner. "Chihuahua man again?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that. Guess I'd better turn it off. You find anything on your walk?"

"All's quiet."

Jim Ellison had had one shitty day. A day spent coddling criminals and other scum of the earth. For once he'd been glad Sandburg wasn't there, he'd had a hard enough time controlling his temper without going into big brother mode when the bastards leered at his friend. Undressing him with their eyes. And they did. It scared Jim to think he had joined their ranks.

As he got to the door of the Loft he automatically upped his hearing. Inside he heard Sandburg talking, it sounded like he had another pervert again. He unlocked the door.

"The bible...uhuh...you want me to put it where?...uhuh...Yikes!" Jim snatched the phone and snarled into the mouthpiece.

"I don't know who you are scumbag, but phone this number again and there won't be enough of you left to fill a milk bottle." He slammed the phone down. The loft's phone, part of his mind noticed.

Blair just stared silently up him a moment, mouth a perfect 'o'.

"Jim, have you gone crazy? That was Mrs Barramar on the phone! She was telling me where to drop off her Great Grandfathers old bible that she lent me! What did.." the phone began to ring again and Blair pounced on it.

"Mrs Barramar! Yeah, that was Jim...yeah, he didn't know what he was saying. Accidental drug inhalation at work, I'm staying home to make sure he doesn't hurt himself...uhuh...I'm fine...sure will...Ok, thanks, bye Mrs Barramar." <click> "I hope you're ashamed of yourself man, she was really worried about you." Blair wavered briefly between annoyance and amusement. The humor won out and he fell sideways on the couch, laughing his ass off.

"Glad you think this is funny." Feeling like a fool Jim stalked over to the TV and picked up the remote. Damn kid. Unable to help himself Ellison felt the corners of his mouth twitch up. Blair's laughter was infectious. And thinking about it, it had been kinda funny. Collapsing into his chair, Jim clicked on the TV and relaxed. Only one more week and Blair's weird new job would be finished. /Let's hope things get back to normal. As weird as that is, sometimes.../

He had it again. The Need. To call and hear his partners voice. As had become his ritual this past month Jim slipped from the office and out to the truck. He'd parked it as usual in the darkest part of the underground car park. With shaking fingers he fumbled out a condom and rolled it down the length of his hardening penis. Then he pulled out the mobile and Dictaphone, hit playback and speed dial together. His cock was bobbing in anticipation.

"Hellow, Blair Sandburg, can I help you?"

"Talk to me."

There was silence, small eternities ticked by before Blair replied, voice gone flat and strained.

"Who is this? How did you get this number?"

Too late a horrified Jim Ellison realized he'd dialed Blair's office number, and not the sex line. He hit disconnect, but not before registering the increased heart rate and breathing of his partner.

He had scared his friend, badly. Groaning in shame and remorse the cop removed the condom from his now flaccid cock, zipped himself up, then rested his head on the steering wheel. Oh god. What had he done?

As he sat there in the dark, a memory surfaced, from early in his career with vice. There had been a telephone company that had discovered one of it's employees had been terrifying a woman with obscene phone calls. It had been going on for years, but when ever she contacted them, their records had shown nothing, the company man had erased them. It was only the testifying of the woman's family, who had also some times picked up the calls, which had eventually convinced the head of department to monitor the situation. The employee had been found out. When they finally booked him and asked why he did it his answer had been simple.

"The power. I could put the fear of god into her and she never even knew my name. The more frightened she became, the more power I had. It was like a drug, I couldn't stop."

/Power. Power over him. I want power over him, always have./

Jim Ellison sat in a cold truck in the middle of the Cascade Police garage and asked himself.../Did I dial that number on purpose?/

And the terrifying truth was - he didn't know.

End of Part One. To be continued.....