Archive of Our Own ^beta

"You Know I Will"
by MonaR.
[email protected]

who knows how long I've loved you
you know I love you still
will I wait a lonely lifetime
if you want me to I will

Blair Sandburg cracked one eye open, took a look at the outside world, and pulled the covers back up over his head. It was not going to be a good day.

/Why did Sheila have to try that 'magical' recipe last night? I've got finals, I've got classes to teach - the woman is insane./

"The woman" was also right beside him. He looked at her, trying to muster up a remembrance of what had brought him here - a communal floor with three other couples in a beat-up old Victorian home they shared with fifteen other people on a slow night. Sheila was everything he thought that he wanted in a woman - she didn't want a commitment, she was totally non-threatening to his masculinity, she went with the flow. /So why am I so uninterested in ever seeing her again?/

"You okay, baby?" She peeked a red-rimmed eye out at him.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, Sheel, I'm fine."

"Hungry?"

"No, I'm - " They rest of his words were cut off by her insistent tongue, probing deeply into his mouth. "Uh, Sheila, hon - it's a bit crowded up here, don't you think?"

"You didn't have any problem last night."

/Again with last night. I don't even remember last night, and she's throwing it into my face./ "Right. Well, that was then - "

"Argh! Why is it that every time you want to get out of here, you start quoting bad song lyrics to me? If you want to fly, Blair, do it." She rolled over and went back to sleep.

Blair stood and picked his clothing out of the pile, headed for the bathroom. If he was lucky, he'd make it in there alone this morning. A couple of times he'd been 'joined' all of a sudden by Erica, or Bobbi - once by Steve. He threw a glance to the mattress in the corner of the room. There was a huddled mass in it, but he couldn't tell if it was a person, or two, or even three. No idea what possible gender it might prove to be.

He went into the bathroom. The door had disappeared shortly after he and Sheila had moved in, and he wanted to think that it was because of him, but he knew that it was more Sheila's doing. She was beautiful, that he had to give her - not too skinny, nice breasts, long, straight blonde hair. If it weren't for the drugs, she could have been a Breck girl. Everyone kept telling him what a lucky man he was, to have found such a great girlfriend.

He stepped into the shower, and drew the tattered curtain across it. The water took only a couple of minutes to turn from brown to clear - /first shower of the morning, lucky me/ - and he moved forward under the spray and started to scrub off the effects of last night.

It was getting to be too much for him, all of a sudden, and that thought depressed him. /Twenty-six. Washed up at twenty-six. I'm not even in my prime yet./

He found his thoughts drifting, unbidden, back to the morning when he'd been in the very same position, only to have the curtain draw back. He'd been half-expecting Sheila, but no - it was a surprised and almost pleased-looking Steve who stood on the other side. He offered a hasty "Sorry", but Blair had felt his lingering gaze on him long after he was alone in the room again.

He didn't have anything against gay men. Hell, some of his friends were gay, he was sure of it. And he was always the one on the front line, wasn't he, whenever there was a cause to stand up for. But he'd never had any feelings like that before - not about guys.

/And what about Steve, anyway? He brought home a different woman - sometimes more than one - every night. So what was that look all about?/

Blair sighed and ducked his head under the spray, rinsing away the shampoo. /I can't think about this. I'm going to be late for class./

He made it across the quad in record time. That was the good thing about the house - it made for a very short commute to work and school. Still, he'd been thinking about getting a car, lately. Maybe one of those Corvairs, if he could scrape together the cash.

He stopped suddenly when he spotted a singular sight in front of the lecture hall. There, in front of his classroom door, was a guy standing straight, at least six feet tall, with short, almost-nothing hair, muscular build, looking totally lost. Blair couldn't believe the guy - he looked like a narc. /Nah. Too obvious for a narc. They all want to look like Al Pacino, now./ He walked over to him. "Can I help you?"

The guy looked at him, gratefully. Blair caught a glimpse of a sparkle in the light blue eyes. "Thanks. Professor Romen?"

"He's down the hall. Third door on the right." Blair checked his watch. "His class should be over in ten or so. You can catch him on the way out."

"Great, thanks a lot. I didn't think I'd get anyone to speak to me. They think I'm a narc."

Blair laughed. "I can't imagine why," he said, and opened the door to the lecture hall.

"You a student?"

"No. I'm teaching," he said.

"Oh really? What's your specialty?"

"Anthropology."

The guy nodded his head. "Interesting."

"You coming to inquire about classes? Romen's pretty good - "

"No, I'm asking a few questions about a witness."

"So you are a cop. It figures."

"You got something against cops?"

"No. As long as I'm not being interrogated by one."

"You get that a lot?"

"When you look the way I do, you come to expect things like that."

"We're not all like that," the taller man said, defensively.

"Yeah. And not all people who look like me are drug dealers, either." Blair jerked the door back and walked into the hall.

Two unbelievably short hours later, he was walking out again. One of his younger and prettier students, with the unenviable self-given name of Freedom, was walking with him. She was asking questions; he was flirting, subtly.

"So the indeous tribes - "

"Indigenous."

"The indigenous tribes of the western coast - "

Blair stopped suddenly, when he saw the cop he'd been talking to earlier smiling at him. He was leaning against one of the posts right by the stairs.

Freedom, when she finally stopped and realized that Blair wasn't beside her anymore, whined, "Blair! You're not listening!"

"Free, hon, ask me tomorrow in class, okay? Don't you have another lecture you're going to be late for?"

"Okay. But you're staying after if I still don't get it."

Blair had a sudden vision of a thirty-hour tutorial session on the indigenous tribes of the western coast. He walked over to the cop.

"Still lost?"

"Figuratively, or metaphorically?"

Blair laughed. "Literally, actually."

"No, I got what I wanted." Something in his gaze, while not as overt as Steve's, suddenly made Blair think that statement wasn't quite true. "I was wondering if I could buy you a cup of - " he paused " - tea?"

"Good choice. Sure. There's a shop right around - " Blair paused. "On second thought, maybe you'd better pick the spot."

"I'm not a narc, you know."

"I believe you, but you're a cop, which isn't much better," he grinned.

for if I ever saw you
I didn't catch your name
but it never really mattered
I will always feel the same

They settled in a booth in the back of a shop in a part of town that Blair didn't see much. It was quiet, and Jim seemed to know the owner personally. A pot of tea and a large mug of coffee were soon in front of them.

"I don't even know your name."

"Blair Sandburg." He stuck out his hand.

"Jim Ellison."

"So, you were in 'Nam?"

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?" Jim looked at him, gauging the waters. "Yeah. I was in the Army for fifteen years - did two tours over there. Thought I'd be a lifer. I was on one of the last flights out of Saigon, when it was over." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I suppose that you were back here, protesting."

Blair nodded. "I saw too many friends go, man, and not enough come back."

They were both quiet for a moment.

"There's a memorial march on campus tomorrow, you know," Blair said. "You should come."

"I noticed the signs. Somehow I don't think that I 'd be very welcome there."

"Of course you would. You were there. You know first-hand what went on. Who has more of a right to march than you?"

"You're one of the only people that I've met that actually feels that way," Jim said, smiling. "Sure, why not? Okay if I bring someone?"

Blair felt a little spasm run through him, but shrugged it off. "The more the merrier. Someone special?"

"A friend. Guy I met over there, actually. Name's Simon Banks. He's a cop, too."

"Does he look as bad as you do?"

"Worse."

"He'll fit right in, then."

Jim nodded. "I thought so."

Blair woke up the next morning, alone. H, the guy that lived downstairs, told him that Sheila found a vanload of people going to a concert in Berkeley that weekend and had tagged along with them.

"What's forty-eight-hours in a van among friends?"

"Right, man."

Blair grinned. H had absolutely no sense of sarcasm or irony, but he was rather delightfully minimalist and generally up for anything. He never would tell Blair was the 'H' stood for - it was just H. "You going to the march today?"

"I don't know, man - I don't like to plan my time that far ahead."

"It's at twilight, if you decide to come."

"Sure. Maybe. Whatever."

"See you later, H."

A hand waved at him and Blair went out the door. He couldn't remember the last time he'd woke up on a Saturday before noon, but he'd agreed to help organize the march in one burst of altruistic glory, mostly fueled by the fervor of a drug haze. /I've really got to stop doing that stuff./

He brightened at the thought of seeing Jim again. They'd talked for hours in the little coffee shop, drinking pots of tea and coffee, even eating dinner that the owner's wife had finally sent over when it was obvious that they weren't leaving. He felt as though he'd told Jim his entire life story, and he'd sat there and absorbed it all, obviously interested. The guy had some deep hidden layers in him, Blair could just tell. He seemed to see things so clearly, and feel them deeply. /Okay, Sandburg, calm down. You don't even know that he'll show up./

Except, of course, that Jim had said that he would, and Blair felt that this was one man who didn't make such promises lightly. Still, he worried his way through the next several hours, putting together placards and helping pass out flyers, until he saw a tall, broad figure striding towards him, followed by an even taller, dark-skinned man whom Blair knew had to be Simon Banks.

"You came!" Blair's smile bored deep inside Jim, and lodged itself somewhere near his heart. Jim nodded at him.

"I said that I would."

"Yeah, but I didn't believe you."

"You said that it was a memorial. I've got nothing against that. I probably knew some of these guys." He turned to the man at his side - even taller than Jim was, he made Blair feel that much smaller in comparison. "Simon, this is Blair. Blair Sandburg, Simon Banks."

"Nice to meet you."

Blair thrust candles at them. He could feel the waves of connection between the two men, and didn't know why it bothered him so much. "We're going to be lighting these for the march."

"Thanks."

"Come on, I'll introduce you to my friends."

Blair's 'friends', at least the ones that Jim met that night, consisted mainly of other teaching assistants and students. There was only one other man there who Jim felt was close to his own age, and he was a history professor who looked like a full-time protester. He was showing up his students. Of course, if he'd been doing it since the sixties, he probably had a heck of a lot up on them.

Jim had to do some fast talking and make some wild promises to get Simon to agree to come with him. He had even more problems with the free-loving kids than Jim had, but the promise of extra duty at will and the march actually being in the right spirit eventually won him over.

"So why is it so important that I go with you, anyway?"

"I don't want to scare this kid off, Simon. He thinks I'm coming on to him."

"And you aren't?" Simon was the first person - one of the few, actually - that Jim had come out to. He was tucked firmly into the closet where work and most of his everyday life was concerned, however.

Jim sighed. "I'm trying not to, but it's hard, Simon. He's just so - " He tried to come up with an appropriate word, but somehow 'fuckable' was the only thing that he could think of. And it wasn't just that he wanted to get into the kid's pants - he had a mind, too, and a smile, and a body that made Jim just want to get on his knees and thank whoever had put the kid together.

"Uh-huh."

It didn't take long for Simon to get into the spirit of the evening. It was the memorial speeches and candlelit march that hit both of them hard, but it was a positive feeling. Even the concert in the park afterward was enjoyable, spread out on blankets under the stars. They also turned a blind eye to various illegal substances that were being discreetly passed around, as long as they stayed discreet. Jim was a little disappointed to see Blair partaking too, but he'd been there, too. Several years in Vietnam had shown him both the blissful benefits and the ultimate destruction of drugs, but he was no preacher.

"You want to get out of here?" Jim was startled when Blair dropped down onto the blanket beside him. Simon had found a sympathetic, and very pretty, face and was engrossed in conversation.

Jim shrugged. "I'm enjoying it. You don't have to leave on my behalf."

"I just thought you might want to go somewhere and talk."

"Sure." He stood up and reached a hand down to help Blair up. Simon threw him a knowing smile which he pointedly ignored.

They walked away from the park. It was several hours past sunset and starting to get quite cool.

"Why do you do all of this stuff?"

"Talk about not beating around the bush," Blair grinned briefly, then sobered. "It's what I'm supposed to do, Jim. Come here, teach, pick up girls, sleep with them, go out, party. It's a people's revolution. It's what we do."

"Huh." Jim looked thoughtful at his answer.

"What?"

"It's just not what I expected that you'd say. I thought that you'd tell me that you were doing it because you liked it, because you wanted to have fun."

Blair looked puzzled. "That's what I did tell you."

Jim shook his head. "No, it's not. You told me that you were doing it because you were supposed to. Those were the very first words out of your head. And you call me the conformist." He turned to start walking again, but Blair grabbed his arm.

"Okay, so if it isn't what I want, what is it? I suppose you can tell me everything about myself, right?"

"Not everything." Jim looked at him, thoughtfully. "Maybe a few things, though."

"Such as?"

"I don't think you're ready to hear them."

"Oh, don't give me that bull!" Blair poked him in the chest to emphasize his point. "You started this, and you are going to finish it. Tell me what you meant."

"Okay. Why did you sit in that coffee shop with me for four hours yesterday? Why invite me to this 'memorial service'?"

"I thought you might enjoy it," Blair said, tightly. "If I'd have known I was going to get the third degree for my troubles - "

"You asked."

"Right. Well, I'm sorry that I did."

"You didn't answer any of my questions, you know."

"So I like spending time with you. What's wrong with that?"

Jim smiled at him. "There's nothing wrong with it. At least, not what you think is wrong."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Jim opened his mouth as if to answer, then seemed to change his mind just as the words would have come out. Instead, he bent his head towards the younger man and captured Blair's mouth with his own. He felt a small struggle against him, then was relieved to feel Blair's hands, which had been crushed against his chest, move over and around his back, pulling him closer, deeper into the kiss.

Finally, Jim pulled away, careful to keep his hands around Blair, afraid he'd fall - or run. "See," he said, with a smile, "I told you there was nothing wrong with it."

Blair looked scared, and embarrassed - and aroused. "I - I didn't even know what I wanted," he said, quietly. "Is that why - "

"Why what?"

"This guy in the house where I used to live kept coming on to me. I thought it was something with him, but it must have been me. I've got a vibe."

Jim looked at him, trying to will away his laugh. "I don't get any 'gay' vibe from you, if that's what you're thinking, Blair. I get a 'you and me' vibe. I wanted to kiss you, and I thought that's what you wanted, too."

Blair nodded. "And?"

"And it was better than I thought it would be. Sometimes you just have to go for things, you know?"

"I thought I did. I don't think I know very much, right at the moment." Blair paused, as if drawing to courage to ask what he posed next. "So where do we go from here?"

"I don't know."

"Kissing me was all you wanted?"

Jim shook his head. "No. It was just the beginning of what I wanted. But, beyond that, it's up to you, Blair. I'm no defiler of unwilling virgins."

Blair groaned. "It's been a long time since anyone called me a virgin with any accuracy, you know."

"Sorry. But I'm not going to force you into anything that you don't want. It's the same thing. You're going to have to come to me. No pun intended."

"You and Simon - " Blair started, slowly.

"Me and Simon?" Jim laughed. "You thought and he and I - that we - " He couldn't control the laughter.

Blair's face was flaming. "I got this feeling from the two of you."

With some effort, Jim contained his laughter. "He's my best friend. He probably knows me better than anyone else in this world. Including the fact that I am deeply and irrevocably attracted to you, Blair. I don't do this casually, you know."

"That another dig?"

"I'm not criticizing you, or putting you down, Blair. I'm telling you that I'm serious about my feelings for you, that's all. That and the fact that Cascade isn't exactly the gay sex capital of America."

Blair took a deep breath. "Okay. You know, I always thought that I could handle anything, but - "

"You can't handle this," Jim finished for him.

"I just don't know. I mean, I've felt this connection to you from the moment that we met - "

"Like it was meant to happen?"

Blair nodded. "Like we'd met before somewhere."

"Or like we'd spent our lives waiting for the moment when we'd come together."

They stared at each other, before Blair shivered. Jim realized that the wind had picked up again, and Blair wasn't wearing a jacket. His jeans, shirt and sandals didn't afford much warmth against the night chill. "I should get you home."

"Yeah," Blair nodded.

"My truck's over there," Jim pointed, and they started walking towards the lot.

"Simon - " Blair said, suddenly.

"Brought his own car. Don't worry about it."

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Take me home," Blair said, softly. "Your home."

Jim stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you sure?"

"I don't think I've ever been more sure about anything. I can't make any promises, but I want to be with you tonight."

Jim nodded and got into the truck, waiting until Blair closed the passenger door before he started it up.

love you forever and ever
love you with all my heart
love you whenever we're together
love you when we're apart

They drove in silence, Jim throwing glances at Blair, who seemed to be waging an internal battle with some of his demons. He'd thought of talking the kid out of it, but he knew that he was right - something had been pushing them at each other. If he'd arrived five minutes later at the school, he might never even have met Blair - but he hadn't, and here they were.

He pulled up in front of the loft and led the way inside, thankful that he'd taken the time to straighten up that morning.

Blair looked around the place while Jim went to grab a couple of beers. It was neat, simple - a chrome dining room set tucked in one corner, a rattan couch and a couple of worn chairs, a turntable and some records underneath one of the windows. The view was beautiful from the huge glass doors leading out to the balcony. He looked out for a minute, then knelt and looked at Jim's record collection. You could tell a lot about a man from his taste in music.

He was surprised by what he found there - everything by the Beatles, some Doors, some Hendrix, some older Elvis and Buddy Holly.

"Put something on, if you want," Jim said, settling down on the couch.

Blair took a second, then pulled out an album and put it on the turntable, the Fab Four soon extolling the virtues of life in the Soviet Union. Jim smiled at him and patted the seat next to him. "Freaked out, yet?"

"By what?"

"Me."

"Oh, that happened yesterday, believe me." Jim laughed, and Blair smiled at him. "You're nothing like I would have expected."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning if anyone had told me that I'd be sitting in the living room of a cop, drinking beer and waiting to see if he's going to make a move, I'd have asked them to share whatever they were on."

Jim shook his head. "You're going to wait a long time, Blair. I told you - the next move is yours."

"And what if I said I don't have the faintest idea how to make one?"

"It's not so different, you know."

"I haven't dated that many six-foot-tall women."

"Six-two, actually."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Well, that makes it that much easier."

Jim laughed at him. "You're a good kisser. Why not start there?"

Tentatively, Blair leaned towards him, jumping back when he realized that he was still holding the beer that Jim had given him. He'd spilled it on himself and Jim's leg. "I'm sorry - "

"It's okay, Blair. Just relax. It'll come out." Jim grabbed a towel from the kitchen and came over, patting his jeans and Blair's shirt. "Look, why don't you take this off? I'll get you something dry to put on." He climbed up the stairs to the bedroom, and rummaged through a drawer for a shirt that he thought wouldn't hang on the younger man. When he turned around, he was surprised to see Blair behind him, his own wet shirt in hand.

Blair was beautiful, even half-dressed. The long curly hair dusted his bare shoulders, and a tantalizing shock of dark hair on his chest and dipping low past his navel seemed to call out for attention, as well as the deep, pink nipples hidden there. He realized he was staring and thrust the shirt towards his guest.

"Maybe we won't need it," Blair said, dropping the clothes from his hands and moving towards Jim. The lust in Jim's eyes seemed to have galvanized something inside him, and he pulled Jim's head down for a deep, soulful kiss, wrapping his hands around Jim's neck.

Jim was lost to sensation, and closed his eyes and allowed it. Despite the slight dampness from the beer, Blair's skin seemed shockingly warm, almost as blazing as the kiss he was giving him. He was filled with a need to discover the rest of this beautiful young man, and felt himself turning towards the bed, without breaking the kiss. Finally, he sat down on the edge, Blair standing between his spread thighs, and asked what he needed to know.

"Do you want this?"

Blair nodded.

"Say it."

"I want you. I want to be with you. I want to make love with you, Jim."

Silently, he undressed the young man, pulling the jeans away from him, and pushing him down on his back on the bed. He was small, it was true, but each beautiful curve and plane of him demanded attention. Blair was just on the very edge of erection, his desire beginning to fill, and Jim knew that he wanted him more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

Sitting back, he pulled his own clothing off, then lay down beside Blair, capturing that mouth in another kiss, as his hands stroked down Blair's body, learning the feel of him. Blair arched and writhed against him, mutely encouraging his attentions until Jim demanded to hear him with kisses and bites, drawing the moans from deep inside him.

When he at last drew the now-weeping erection into his mouth, he knew that Blair was on the very edge of his control, and he gave into his need, tonguing the orgasm out of the younger man with skill and patient ease.

The record downstairs finished, the only sound that he heard was the cry of Blair in his arms, sobbing and shouting his release.

and when at last I find you
your song will fill the air
sing it loud so I can hear you
make it easy to be near you
for the things you do endear you to me

For a long time, all Blair could hear was the rushing of blood in his ears, and his gasps as he tried to fill his strained lungs. He felt the mattress shift next to him, but couldn't move a muscle. Jim quickly returned, however, with a warm cloth, and carefully washed him off.

"You didn't - " he started, when he thought that he could trust his voice.

"Yes, I did," Jim smiled. "You think I could feel you and not come just from the touch of you?"

"You're amazing," Blair said, reaching out for him.

Jim tugged the blanket from under him and covered them both, settling Blair into his arms.

"Is it always going to be this good?" Blair asked, sleepily.

"We can hope." Jim kissed him on top of the head, and whispered, "Get some sleep."

Blair's eyes opened less than an hour later. Jim smiled at him, and Blair blushed. "Sorry."

"It's a very common reaction, believe me. I take it as a compliment."

They lay against the pillows quietly, kissing each other softly, the urgency of need gone. Finally, Blair turned over to lay with his arms propped on Jim's chest, and said, "You know that I don't know anything about you? You know my entire life story, and I didn't even let you get a word in edgewise. Who are you, Jim Ellison?"

Jim stiffened noticeably underneath him, and Blair hurriedly added, "Hey - you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, you know. I just meant - "

"No, it's okay, really," Jim said, relaxing against him. "I just have never talked that much about myself. Nobody ever asked before. There are things that I haven't even thought about since they happened, and things - "

"Just tell me what you want me to know."

"That's just it, Blair - I want you to know everything. I think if I start talking, I may never be able to stop."

Blair smiled. "Well, who says that you have to stop?"

"There are some things about me that I don't really understand - some feelings that I've been having. Something changed me a couple of years ago, and I've never really dealt with it."

"Tell me about it," Blair urged. "Let me help you."

"I was in the jungle - everything is jungle over there - and I got cut off from the rest of my company. I found out later that while I'd gotten myself into one of the underground pits the VC used, they'd been cut down in a village about a mile away from me. Everyone dead."

"Why didn't they come back and kill you, too?"

Jim shook his head. "I really don't know - just blind luck, I guess. It was an old and unused pit, so whoever had dug it, and for whatever reasons, was long gone. I was in there for what felt like days before I managed to get myself out. I kept going in deeper and deeper, searching out cover, trying to reach anyone, but point after point I found was deserted. They pickup helicopters weren't even coming in anymore because they'd had reports that everyone was dead.

"So I ended up there in the jungle alone."

"For how long?"

"Six months. By the time I got out - everything had changed for me." He shook his head. "And then, when we got back to Saigon, everything had changed there, too. I was in a hospital for about four months, and they shipped me Stateside."

"So why did you go back?"

He was silent for a long while, choosing his words. "When I came back here, I found out that I didn't belong here, either. I didn't belong anywhere, really - I couldn't turn my back on my experiences and forget everything that I'd seen, and everyone that I'd lost, but I couldn't tell anyone, either. Nobody wanted to hear it. So I went back. Nobody expected me to talk there. I just went into the jungle and tried to lose myself again."

"I want to hear about it," Blair said, shifting closer to him.

Jim kissed his hair. "I don't know, Chief - "

"Chief. I like that."

"It suits you. I have a feeling that you're someone who's going to be very important to me, Blair."

"I think that you're right." Blair kissed him. "So what is it that you don't understand?"

"It's about my senses - " Jim began.

you know I will
I will

The End
MonaR.