MrsHamill and Christi encouraged me when the idea for this story first occured to me. Fox and Aly beat it into shape. Wait a minute, didn't we see this same group hanging somewhere recently?? <g> Cheers, guys, you are the bestest.

Yet another vacation. Yet another run-in with the local criminal elements, complicated by the involvement of less-than-scrupulous members of the local law enforcement organization. Yet another narrow brush with death. Several narrow brushes, in fact, for both of them. Another too-close-for-comfort, last-minute rescue, brought off through unwavering perseverance and endurance on their parts against insurmountable odds, the tardy but not unappreciated help of a few conscientious members of the local law enforcement organization, the bravery and ingenuity of several concerned and law-abiding area residents, and plenty of not-so-gentle long-distance nagging from Simon.

Now, all the bad guys were either dead or under lock and key; the wounds had been attended to and patched up; the medical personnel at the local hospital had pronounced them fit to travel back to Cascade; the flight reservations had been made; and an apologetic and appreciative representative of the local law enforcement organization had shown them to their procured room, wished them a good night and a safe trip home, adding a few polite mutterings about hoping that their experience this time wouldn't discourage them from a return visit, and left.

Sighing in profound relief, Jim opened the door and stepped into their room -- and froze.

"Aw," said Blair, as he bumped into Jim's back. "Why'd you stop?"

"Sandburg," Jim growled. "There's only one bed."

Blair stretched up and around to peek over Jim's shoulder. In the middle of the room was a sturdy-looking double bed, covered with fresh sheets which had been turned down for the night. A night stand with lamp and phone stood next to the bed. Two chairs, a dresser and a writing desk completed the furnishings of the spare but well-maintained room.

"One bed, big deal," Blair said, shuffling around Jim and limping over to the bed. He dropped his backpack into the nearest chair and plonked himself down onto the bed. He bounced gently up and down, testing the mattress, and grinned. "Much better than sleeping on rocks, don't you think?"

"Bu-bu-but," Jim stammered, weakly raising an arm to indicate the bed, "h-he must think..."

"Must think what?" asked Blair, as he bent to remove his mud-encrusted boots.

"Well, that we a-ar-are..."

"We are?" Blair looked up and fixed Jim with his gaze while nonchalantly dropping a boot to the floor.

Jim fidgeted uncomfortably. "Well, you know."

"And since when did you care what anyone thought?" Blair asked as he shrugged out of his jacket. He grimaced as he examined the tears in the back and the sleeve. "Looks like I'll be needing to buy another jacket," he commented as he laid it to the side.

"We'll go shopping when we get back to Cascade," Jim said, finally moving away from the doorway. "I need to get a new jacket, too."

"That you do," Blair said, staring pointedly at Jim's jacketless state.

"It's just," Jim said, grabbing the empty chair and straddling it backwards so he faced Blair, "what made him think...?"

Blair gave him an incredulous look as he continued undressing. "Gee," he said, "for starters, the way you hovered over me at the hospital alone is enough to get people thinking." He pulled off his overshirt and flipped it onto the bed.

Jim reached out and grabbed the discarded shirt and jacket, which he folded and arranged neatly on the writing desk. "I was just trying to make sure you were treated properly," he said in a petulant tone.

"Uh-huh. And you refused to let go of the rope, even when you were in danger of being pulled down yourself." Blair took off his second shirt. This time Jim snatched it before he could toss it aside.

"I would have done the same thing for Simon. Heck, for anybody," Jim stated, as he carefully brushed the dirt off the shirt before folding it with painstaking precision.

"Yeah," Blair agreed, as he wiggled out of his pants. "But would you cradle Simon while he was unconscious?"

"How'd you know I cradled you? You were unconscious." Jim glared. He gave the shirt one final inspection before setting it on top of the other clothes.

"Why are you folding dirty clothes? And you were cradling me when I came to." Blair said, handing his pants to Jim.

"Okay, so maybe I'm a little protective of you," Jim conceded while he folded the pants.

"And?"

"And?"

"The clothes. Why are you folding them."

"Oh." Jim scowled at the folded pants in his hand, then laid them carefully on top of the writing table, next to the jacket and shirts. "This way they take less space in the luggage."

"Jim," Blair rolled his eyes. "We don't have any luggage. All our stuff got fried when the rental car exploded."

"We have your backpack," Jim said, pointing toward it with his shoulder.

"Yeah, the amazing indestructible backpack," Blair snorted. He pushed himself off the bed, wincing as his injured foot touched the floor, then limped across the room to where Jim had left a bunch of assorted shopping bags. Squatting, he rifled through the contents, murmuring, "I do hope they thought to... Yes!" Triumphantly, he held up a pair of boxers.

"Is there one for me, too?" Jim queried.

Blair poked around some more and came up with a second pair. He laid them against each other to compare their sizes, and tossed the bigger one toward Jim. "There's some t-shirts, too. Want one?" he asked.

"Nah, I'm fine," Jim waved him off. "Unless... it bothers you?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Hey, nothing I haven't seen before." Blair grinned mischievously. He heaved himself to his feet, boxers and t-shirt clutched in his hand. "Damn, I wish I could wash my hair," he complained, shaking out his hair in disgust.

"We'll figure something out once we get back to Cascade." Jim pulled the backpack onto his lap and rummaged through it, coming up with a comb and hair spray. "Go get changed, and I'll comb it out for you."

Five minutes later, Blair sat on the bed, dressed in borrowed t-shirt and boxers, purring as Jim, now dressed only in his borrowed boxers, sat behind him against the headboard, carefully working out the tangles in Blair's hair with comb and fingers.

"Mmmmm, you are so good with that," Blair said, eyes closed in appreciation.

"Don't get too used to it," Jim said tersely. "I'm only doing this until you can hold up your arm on your own again."

"What did the doctor say, two weeks?"

Jim grimaced. "That's to heal completely. You should regain mobility before then."

"Uh-huh." Blair batted eyelashes at Jim.

"Stop that." Jim delivered a light swat to the top of Blair's head and turned it firmly back into position so he could continue his ministrations. Silence settled over the two men as Jim worked.

"Jim," Blair whispered. "Don't zone."

Jim startled guiltily and forced his gaze away from Blair's curls. "I wasn't zoning," he said.

"Yeah, right." Blair smiled knowingly.

Jim shook his head and resumed his task of combing out Blair's hair.

"Hey, Jim?"

"Hmm?"

"Does it really bother you what people think?"

"They've been thinking stuff about us since the minute you first set foot in the station, Chief."

"So why does this bother you?"

Jim gave Blair's hair one final flick before setting aside the comb. "Those were speculations. This -- this isn't even assumption. He was certain."

"And that bothers you because...?"

Jim sighed. "I dunno. What is it? Do we have a sign painted on our foreheads?"

Blair grinned as he pushed Jim to the side so he'd have room to get under the covers. "So maybe we do." He chuckled at Jim's stricken look. "Or maybe it's the hovering thing. Or the cradling thing. And who knows what Simon told him."

Jim busied himself fluffing up his pillow. Blair's eyes narrowed.

"What did he say?"

Jim flinched uncomfortably and made a big production of settling in under the sheets. "Oh... the usual," he gritted out through clenched teeth.

"The usual?"

"How you and I have a special partnership, and one wouldn't rest until the other is safe, and woe to anybody who dares come between us..."

Blair started laughing uncontrollably, hitting the sheets in glee.

"Sure, yeah, laugh it up." Jim scowled. "I mean, yeah, this time, it's harmless. All that happened is we got stuck in a room with only one bed."

Blair sobered, managing to tone down his laughter to chuckles. "You are not thinking they attacked us because they thought we were..."

"Yeah."

"Jim, once we stumbled upon their merchandise, there was no way they were going to let us go alive."

"We wouldn't have stumbled on that cave if we hadn't been forced to hike through the forest because our car exploded."

"Come on Jim, they meant it as a prank. It was just our luck that the car had a leaking fuel tank."

"They played that prank to teach a lesson to a couple of city faggots."

"Jim," Blair said in his most patient tone, "We can't control what people think, and we can't change ourselves. I'm not going to change the way I dress or the way I act just so some stranger I don't even know doesn't get ideas." He paused, and stared hard at Jim. "And I don't think you really want to, either."

Jim remained stone-still except for the tell-tale tic of his cheek. Without answering, he reached out and turned off the bedside lamp, throwing the room into darkness.

"Come on, Jim," Blair said as he worked his way into the covers. "Remember Galileo --"

"Ow! Watch it!" Jim yelped as Blair accidentally jolted him.

"Sorry. Is there any part of you that isn't bruised?"

"What do you think, Sherlock?"

"Okay, okay," Blair scooted as far away from Jim as he could, trying to make himself small. "See? I'm not touching anything, ok?"

Jim glared, even though he knew Blair couldn't see him in the dark.

"Anyway," Blair continued, blithely ignoring Jim's palatable glare, "When Galileo trapped me in that elevator, it wasn't because he thought I was gay. When we went after Quinn and got trapped in that mine, it wasn't because he thought we were lovers. Colonel Oliver didn't kidnap you and send his henchmen after me because he thought we were doing the horizontal mambo together. Alex..."

"Stop. Enough," Jim said curtly. "You've made your point."

Blair pushed up to his elbows, then cautiously rearranged himself, taking exaggerated care not to jostle Jim again. "I do wish we'd gotten a bigger bed, though," he grumbled as he tried to make himself comfortable.

"Hey, better than sleeping in a cave, right?"

Blair grunted assent as he finally found a satisfactory position. "Hey Jim?" he said.

"Hm?"

"You do know I don't regret anything, right?"

Jim shifted uneasily, then swallowed hard. "Yeah," he said, reaching out a hand to gently ruffle Blair's hair. "No regrets." He managed a crooked smile.

Blair smiled back, affectionately patting Jim's arm. "Night," he whispered.

Jim relaxed, and stretched, then turned, trying to get comfortable in the unfamiliar bed.

"Ouch!" Blair yelped.

Jim sighed. It was going to be a long night.