IF YOU ASKED ME TO               

by

Candy Apple

     "Come on, give it up!"  Blair was using the advantage of nimble
tickling fingers to make up for what he lacked in size, and it was almost
sufficient to gain him the remote control.  He and Jim had been joking
about switching channels between a ball game and a sitcom, and
somehow it had escalated into this silly free-for-all of wrestling and
tickling for control of the remote.  

     "You little shit!  Knock it off!" Jim was laughing too hard to be
angry, and after the grueling day he'd had, rough-housing like a couple of
ten-year-olds was just the tonic the doctor ordered.

     Blair's body was laid out full on top of Jim now, in his valiant
effort to retrieve the remote from the arms that were half again as long as
his own.  All of a sudden, the smaller man seemed to lose interest in his
quest for the object Jim was holding.  His hands came up to rest,
flat-palmed, on Jim's chest.  For a moment, their eyes locked, and then
Blair hesitantly lowered his lips to meet his friend's.

      And the next thing he knew, he was on the floor, reeling from the
impact and pain of a fist that had slammed into his jaw and the coffee
table that had come up to meet his forehead as he fell. The coppery tang
of blood was filling his mouth.  He looked up at Jim, standing over him
menacingly, and gulped a bit as he waited for the second half of the
reaction to his advance.

     "Chief--oh, God, I...I'm sorry."  Jim leaned forward to pull Blair
from his sprawl near the coffee table, but the other man scrambled to his
feet and backed away from him.  "Blair, I'm sor--" Jim let his sentence
hang unfinished as Blair hurried past him, a little unsteadily, holding onto
the side of his head.  He slammed his bedroom doors behind him.  Jim
walked hesitantly toward the room and tapped on the glass, his knees still
feeling a little like jelly at the thought of what he'd done to his friend. 
"Come on, Chief, open up, huh?"  He ratted the knobs of the French doors
and found the doors locked.  Blair had never locked himself in his room
before. //And you never hit him before, either, you asshole, // Jim berated
himself.

     "Leave me alone, Jim.  Please...just...leave me be," the broken
voice came from the other side of the locked doors.  He could hear the
beginnings of tears, then a steady, soft sobbing muffled in a pillow.

     "You could be really hurt," Jim reasoned.  "Let me take a look at
your head, huh?"  No reply. "Dammit, Sandburg, open these doors," Jim
ordered, rattling them angrily.  When he focused his senses on Blair, he
could still hear the crying, the rapid heartbeat--and smell the fear.  Blair
was afraid of him.  Pierced by that concept, Jim removed his hands from
the doors and went upstairs to his room.

                  * * * * * * * *

                                 

     Jim awoke to the smell of coffee and breakfast cooking.   He sat
up in bed and rubbed a hand over his face, then paused to notice that his
knuckles were bruised.  In a flood of self-abhorrence, it came back to him. 
Blair had kissed him--whether as a joke to throw him off and win the
wrestling match, or as a genuine expression of some deeper feeling, Jim
wasn't sure--and Jim had swung at him with full strength...//Dear God,
enough force to knock somebody my size flat on his ass.  And what does
that say for you?  You can't control yourself when somebody hits a nerve,
eh, Jimbo?  Whatever Blair did, he did it with a gentle intent--and you hit
him, you asshole.  You hit him because you've managed to keep your
hands off him despite your inclinations to the contrary, and then he goes
and does something so...irreversible.  I'm not gay, dammit!! And I'm not
going to be--for him or anyone else!!  Sure you're not.  That's why you
watch the sun pick up the highlights in his hair, invade his privacy by
smelling him and listening to him even when he think she's alone...  Isn't
this what you wanted?  Him to magically one day announce he had been
secretly gay all this time--or better yet that he was just suddenly horny for
you?  He gives it to you and you slug him.  And I decided not to approach
Mr. I'll Try Anything Once because being ostracized by the whole fucking
police force isn't my idea of a good time.//   Jim sat up in bed and tried to
search for that ugly, dark place within himself that had prompted him to
hit Blair.  //And he's down there cooking breakfast this morning???//

     Jim bounded out of bed and hurried downstairs to the kitchen. 
Blair had his back to him, buttering toast as if this were any normal
morning.  Still dressed in the clothing he'd worn the night before, hair
rumpled every which way, it was obvious this was not a normal morning.

     "Blair?"  Jim was surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice.  He
was even more unnerved to see Blair jump at his approach and drop the
knife with a loud clatter on the cupboard.  "I didn't mean to startle
you...I...about last night..."

     "I'll be gone by the time you get home.  I'll have to send for some
of my stuff."  Blair's voice was soft and strained.  He kept his head ducked
and the hair cooperated in concealing the damage to his face as he slid
past Jim with the plate of toast and set it on the table.

     "You made breakfast."  Jim grabbed an old sweatshirt he'd left on
the back of the couch the previous night and pulled it over his head.  It
seemed colder than usual in the loft.

     "I usually do," Blair replied quietly, seating himself at the table. 
He'd put a plate of eggs at Jim's place, but all he had for himself was a
glass of milk.  "Eggs're getting cold."

      Jim stood there a moment staring at the slightly bent head, the
overall change in Blair's body language that tore at his heart.  He
seemed...huddled within himself somehow--hunched up and walking on
eggshells as if he expected to be hit again if breakfast got cold.

     "Blair, I'm so...sorry about last night.  I know there's no excuse--"

     "It was my fault.  I'm the one who owes you an apology."  Blair
finally looked up, and Jim sunk into the chair next to him, winded by the
sight of the purple lump on his forehead and the unsightly swelling and
bruising around the left side of his mouth.  His eyes looked puffy and
bloodshot, as if he'd been crying a long time.  "You had every right--"

     "I had NO right!"  Jim snapped back at him angrily.  "I had a right
to say 'no thanks' or even to push you away--I had no right to do this."  Jim
winced at Blair's automatic flinch when he reached toward the swollen
forehead.  He persisted though, and lightly stroked the tangled hair.  "Who
taught you that someone ever has a right to hit you?  Huh?  Nobody has
that right, Chief."  Jim caught a tear that was escaping from Blair's eye
despite his best efforts to hold it back.  

     "I--I just got...carried away."

     "Was it a joke?"  Jim asked, moving his hand away and sitting
back in the chair.

     "No," Blair replied, almost inaudibly, looking down at the table. 
"But I know you won't want me here after what I did--"

     "Hold on a minute.  I rearrange your face and you're leaving
because you think *I'm* mad at *you*?"

     "Aren't you?"  He looked up again, wiping at his own tears with a
shaky hand.

     "You wanna know who I'm mad at?  Me.  The asshole who did that
to your face."  Jim ran a hand over his hair and sighed loudly.  "There are
some things...you don't know.  I don't think..." Jim seemed to grope for the
right words, the love and concern in Blair's eyes hurting as much as it
warmed him.  //I can beat him up and he still loves me like nothing ever
happened...//  "I can't explain it all now.  All I can do...and I know I don't
have any right...all I can do is ask you to forgive me, and to promise you
nothing like this will ever happen again--oh, shit.  Listen to me."  He stood
up and started pacing.  "How many times have I gone on a domestic
dispute call and heard some son of a  bitch feeding that line of crap to
somebody he just got done beating the hell out of!"  Jim slammed his fist
on the kitchen counter.

     "You're telling me there's something else--something that made
you react to me that way. If that's true, then you weren't really
yourself--was it your senses?  Some kind of zone out?"

     "I can't explain it now.  I don't know...if I ever can."

     "Jim, it's okay."  Blair came up behind him and rested a hand on
his shoulder.  "And I promise you that I'll never do anything like this
again--really.  If we can just stay friends--that means everything to me,
man."

     "Me too, Chief."  Jim turned and pulled the other man into an
embrace.  "I'm so sorry."

     "Whatever it is, Jim--I'll help you with it.  I promise."

     "You'll stay?"  He pulled back to look at Blair, who smiled as best
he could under the swelling.

     "I really didn't want to leave anyway.  I just figured you wouldn't
want me around after..."

     

     "Blair, you came to me with love--whether I agreed with it or not. 
And I repaid you with abuse.  Violence.  You're not the one to blame in
this.  Now I want you to go to the doctor today. Have him check out that
over-active noggin of yours and make sure it's still in one piece."

     "I don't want to go to my regular doctor--I know him--he'll ask too
many questions. Besides, I wasn't even knocked out."

     "Just get it checked.  You feel okay to drive?"

     "My head still hurts, but my vision's okay.  I'm not dizzy or
anything."

     "How about I drive you over to my doctor?  Do you teach today?"

     "I called in sick.  I'm a little too...colorful."

     "Look, I'll take you to my doctor--he doesn't usually ask very many
questions knowing my line of work--and then bring you back here so you
can get some rest, huh?"

     "What about work?"

     "I'll call Simon.  He'll muddle through without me for a few hours. 
This is more important."   He gave Blair's curls a light caress as he walked
past him to go up to bedroom and get dressed.

     "What about breakfast?"

     "Leave it.  We'll get something before we go to the doctor."

     "Okay."  Blair put the plates in the sink and left the rest of the
mess.  His head was throbbing and his mind racing, processing all Jim had
said.

                  * * * * * * * *                              

     Jim's doctor was a friendly older man, and he didn't ask many
questions.  He readily accepted the story that Blair had gotten in the way
during a rough arrest situation and earned himself a fist in the mouth and a
bump on the head.  He assured them both that if Blair hadn't lost
consciousness, wasn't exhibiting any symptoms like dizziness or blurred
vision, and his reflexes were all normal--which they were--there was little
to worry about.  He assessed that Blair's jaw was bruised and swollen, but
not fractured in any way.  

     "Jim--I need to see you a minute--about your appointment next
month," the doctor said as Blair hopped off the table and slid into his
jacket.  Slightly puzzled at why the doctor would be dealing with
scheduling details in his office, Blair shrugged and told Jim he'd wait out
front.

          "What is it?"  Jim asked.

          "You're the one who hit him, and I'd like to know why." 
Dr. Madison's steely blue eyes fixed on Jim.  Almost Jim's equal in height,
with a mop of silver hair and a commanding presence, he generally got
answers to assertively asked questions.  His manner with his patients was
friendly and easy going.  His attitude toward those he suspected of
domestic violence was not.

     "Why would you think that?"

     "His blood pressure's high, he's jumpy and obviously uneasy with
the story he told me, and your knuckles are bruised.  Short of a dotted line
from his jaw to your fist, I couldn't get much more proof."

     "How high is his blood pressure?"

     "Not dangerously.  He'll be okay when he calms down.  Now
answer my question."

     "He's my roommate--"

     "I see that by his paperwork."

     "We've gotten real close.  Maybe too close.  Last night, he...well,
we were wrestling around--rough housing.  He kissed me."

      "You've got six inches and forty pounds on him," the doctor
reminded Jim.  "If you feel the need to use someone for a punching bag,
I'd suggest you find one your own size.  About three inches to the left and
you'd have been visiting a funeral home this morning instead of a doctor's
office." The doctor watched as all the color drained out of Jim's face and
he dropped into a chair.

      "What?"

      "He caught the sharp corner of something on the far left side of
his forehead.  If he'd taken that blow on the temple, you'd be doing a lot of
explaining this morning and he'd be dead.  Just because he'll accept you
slapping him around doesn't make it right."

     "You don't have to lecture me on domestic violence, Doctor."  Jim
stood up.  "I don't 'slap him around'."

     "You're going to stand there and deny that you hit him?  Dammit,
Jim, I've been treating you for seven years now--and in your line of work,
I've seen a lot of you.  I know when you're lying. And this is a whopper."

     "There are a lot of things you don't understand--"

     "Enlighten me."  He sat on the edge of the examining table and
pinned Jim with an intense gaze.

     "It's personal."

     "It won't be after I report treating a case of assault and battery. 
Look, Jim, I wouldn't stick my nose into this if I didn't see a potentially
fatal pattern here.  He's willing to take it, and given your size and combat
training, he won't live through getting you really angry."

     "You're acting like I beat him all the time.  I hit him once."

     "So if you only hit him once, it's okay?"

     "No, it's not okay."  Jim paced back and forth.  "I just...he kissed
me, and--"

     "Believe it or not, that's not grounds for a beating."

     "It was a knee-jerk reaction.  I felt...horrible when I realized what
happened.  It was like I zoned out..."  Jim suddenly realized the doctor
couldn't possibly understand the implications of that statement.  "I
guess...what he did--it hit me where I live."  Jim decided to go for broke. 
Their conversation would be confidential anyway.  "I've been...attracted to
Blair for a while now, and it isn't a lifestyle change I want to make.  I
mean, I'm not homophobic or anti-gay...I just can't picture my life--my
career--with a male lover.  That's akin to the kiss of death among cops. 
Ostracism around the water cooler I can handle.  But when it comes to
working relationships among cops, that can be a matter of life and death."

     "Have you ever been attracted to another man before?"

     "Hell no.  That's what's so damn strange.  And it's not that there's
anything effeminate about Blair.  He's strong, he's capable, he can take
care of himself...but I guess...I guess I fell in love with him somewhere
along the line."

     "I think you should do one of two things.  Break up the
relationship or--"

     "I can't do that," Jim blurted.  The thought of ending his
relationship with Blair twisted his chest into a knot.

     "Then here's my off-the-record opinion, since psychiatry isn't my
field."  The doctor paused, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of
his nose before putting them back on again.  "Maybe what triggered the
hostility in you, beyond the obvious, is that your body responded to
something you didn't want it to respond to.  How did you feel when he
kissed you last night?"

     "I...I hit him before he got very far."  Jim started pacing again.

     "But in that moment he did it--"

     "I liked it.  But I'm not gay, dammit."

     "Generally, no.  But maybe meeting the right person can make the
labels irrelevant."  The doctor's matter-of-fact statement left Jim gaping at
him, open-mouthed.  "And you repelled him violently because not only
did your body respond the way you didn't want it to, but it also confirmed,
at least in your mind, your worst fear about yourself--that you were out of
control, that you were having 'gay feelings'."  The doctor made quote
marks in the air with his fingers.

     "Whew."  Jim ran a hand over his face and then turned back to the
doctor.  "For someone who isn't a shrink, that was a hell of an analysis."

     "Well, I actually minored in psych."  The doctor smiled widely for
the first time since Jim had arrived with his bruised companion.

     "God help me.  So did Sandburg."  Jim laughed a little, some of the
tension easing.

     "Look, this isn't neat and easy, Jim."  He stood again and put a
couple of final notes on Blair's chart.  "Do you think you love him or is
this a simple case of what is, for you, aberrant lust?" he asked without
looking up.

     "I love him," Jim answered without thinking.

     "That way?"

     "I don't know.  I mean, I have these feelings, and sometimes he
really turns me on, and other times the whole thought of having sex with
another man makes my skin crawl."

     "Can I make a suggestion?"  The doctor closed the file and looked
up at Jim.

     Jim nodded.

     "Talk to him."

     "I can't tell him--"

     "Tell him.  Look, you could beat his brains in without much effort. 
You've already given him a pretty significant swat.  If he were your spouse
or your child, there'd be a reason for him to hang around--ties that would
make it harder for him to escape the pattern of abuse.  But the only reason
he's still with you is love."

     "I might never be able to have that kind of relationship with him.  I
don't know if I could handle...well, the physical part of things."

     "Look, talk to your friend.  Get this whole thing out in the open.  If
you have medical questions or 'technical' questions, you can come back
and see me--one or the other or both of you."

     "I don't know where this is going yet."

     "Maybe nowhere--but I think you care enough about your friend to
at least explain to him why you hit him.  Give me a call if you want to
talk."  The doctor extended his hand as he moved toward the door.  Jim
shook it.

     "Thanks, Doctor."  

                  * * * * * * * *                         

     Blair was working diligently on his laptop, keys clicking
harmoniously, when Jim came in from work.  It was on the tip of his
tongue to reprimand his roommate for not resting, but then he realized
that the only reason this simple pair of bruises was cause for such concern
was because he had inflicted them.

     "Hey, Jim.  Dinner's in the oven," he said without looking up.  His
voice held its usual warmth and familiarity.

     "Smells good."  Jim hung his jacket on the hook.  "What is it?"

     "Lemon pepper chicken."

     "I thought you were going to rest this afternoon."  Jim joined him
on the couch.

     "Yeah, well, I got bored."  Blair looked up to meet Jim's stare.  He
suddenly realized he had pulled his hair back when he fixed the chicken,
and his bruises were that much more vibrant without the occasional lock
of hair obscuring them.

     "Does it hurt?"  Jim reached over and caressed the bruised area of
Blair's mouth with the backs of his fingers.

     "Well, yeah, but it'll be okay."  Blair seemed puzzled by the touch.

     "It wasn't the kiss, Blair.  I mean, it was, but it wasn't you.  I wasn't
reacting to you that way because I was angry with you or because...or
because I didn't want to be close to you.  Maybe after dinner...we could
talk awhile, huh?"

     "Sure, Jim."  Blair smiled a little and caught Jim's hand as it
retreated.  "Whatever it is, Jim, I'm here--I mean, I'm not goin' anywhere. 
I'm gonna be here for you--even if things never move any further with
us...that way.  It doesn't matter.  I...I love you, man.  That's for keeps.  No
matter what form it takes."

     "I love you too, Chief.  Don't know what I'd do without ya."  He
squeezed the smaller hand in his and then stood up.  "Chicken smells
great." 

     Dinner passed quietly, with Jim eating as much as he could of the
chicken though he had little appetite.  Blair ate mostly the rice he'd fixed
as a side dish, and Jim realized with another pang of guilt that a badly
bruised jaw made for uncomfortable chewing.  They cleared away the
dishes together and took the barely touched bottle of white wine into the
living room with them.

     "You don't have to tell me anything you're not ready to talk about,
Jim."  Blair poured them each a refill on their wine and settled back in the
cushions of the couch with his glass.  "I understand there was more to it,
and that's good enough for now."

     "If I wait until I'm ready, I'll never talk about it.  I don't think that's
fair to you and I don't know anymore if it's the right thing for me either." 
Jim took a few swallows of the wine, hoping it would relax him.  It didn't. 
He got up and started pacing.  

     "Nothing you could tell me would make me love you any less.  I
mean *nothing*, man."

     "You didn't think of the kiss thing first."  Jim ran a hand over his
hair.  "Well, maybe you thought about it before last night.  I know I sure
did."  He looked back to see Blair's stunned expression.  "I've had some
pretty strong feelings...I haven't exactly kept my...interest in you...on the
straight and narrow."

     "You mean you've thought about kissing me before?"  Blair
seemed stunned.

     "It's crossed my mind.  And I've taken a few looks at...I've done a
little leering when I wasn't supposed to either.  I just don't know what to
do about it.  I mean, I know you're going to hate me for thinking this way,
but I don't know if I'm ready to embrace the whole gay issue.  For
cops...God, that's like having the plague.  I know I shouldn't care what
everyone thinks, and part of me doesn't, but it goes against...everything... 
And some of it, quite frankly, makes me sick."

     "Like what?"

     "Giving blow jobs, okay?"  Jim snapped back.  "I can't picture
doing that."

     "I kissed you because I love you, Jim.  There's no big pressure or
game plan on where it has to go from here."    

      "I don't know...Blair...I don't think I could ever..." 

     

      "How do you feel about me, Jim?"

      "I love you," he said immediately, without thought.

      "I mean, if you didn't have to be afraid that kissing me back was
going to mean having sex or sucking me off, would you want to try it
again sometime?"  Blair watched as shock registered on the other's face. 
That Blair had assessed his fears so quickly and completely unnerved him.

      "I liked it...having you close...getting intimate with each other. 
But I just can't picture..." Jim spun around in frustration and stalked off
toward the balcony.  Moments later, Blair followed, hands in pockets,
shivering a little at the icy night air.

      "Jim?  Don't be afraid of me, okay?"  He approached the larger
man and stood close enough to him so their shoulders were touching.  "I'm
your friend and your guide.  That comes first."

      "Cold out here, Chief.  You're shivering."  Jim moved behind
Blair and put his arms around the smaller form.  

      "Feels good."  Blair nestled into the embrace.  

      "I still can't believe I did this," Jim whispered, stroking the bruises
on Blair's face.  Then he startled his guide by lightly kissing each mark. 
"What if I reacted this way again?  What if we kissed or...or something
else...and I attacked you?"

      "You won't."  Blair closed his eyes and leaned back against Jim,
loving the strength and warmth in the arms that held him.

       "How can you be so sure?"  Jim ventured back to kiss the bruises
again.  The feeling of Blair in his arms was fast becoming addictive.  

      "Because last night you hit me for kissing you, and tonight, you're
kissing my boo-boos." Blair smiled as Jim laughed at his choice of words. 
"I've been roughed up a lot since we first got together, and I can't ever
remember you kissing my bruises before.  I mean, we've made some
progress.  And now we know why you reacted the way you did--or at least
we have some ideas."

      "But I still don't know how I'm going to deal with--"

      "You aren't going to be dealing with anything on your own. 
Besides, man, I'm not exactly an expert at this."

     "You mean you're not...?"

     "What?  Gay?  Bi?"  Blair turned to see Jim's expression.  It was
troubled.

     "*You* kissed *me*, remember?"  Jim kissed the bruise on Blair's
forehead again.

     "Yeah, well...you catch up fast," Blair responded, smiling.  Jim's
lips seemed to have more soothing power than the ice he'd tried the night
before.  "I kissed you because...I love you, and I wanted to be closer to
you...and...I don't know exactly all the answers either.  I guess I like the
way it feels being close to you."  Blair illustrated his point by turning
around and closing the marginal distance between them and resting his
head against Jim's chest, tightening his arms around the solid midsection.

     "You feel like you belong here."  Jim hugged his partner tightly,
resting his head on the top of Blair's.

      "We could just try this for a while,"  Blair suggested, his voice
quite effectively muffled by Jim's body.

      "No arguments here."  Jim kissed the top of the other's head, then
stroked the soft curls gently.  "I still can't believe I hit you."

      "That's over and done with.  Forget it."

      "I want to know who used to hit you."

      "Why do you think--"

      "Because you seemed to think it was acceptable for me to slug
you if I was angry."

      "A lot of guys would have slugged me in your position."

      "Blair."

      "Okay, maybe a couple of Naomi's boyfriends were a
little...heavy-handed."

      "And she permitted that?  I'd have killed the son of a bitch with
my bare hands."

      "I know.  Like Lash."  All this time later, Blair still shuddered
when he said the madman's name.

      "I had to kill him."

      "I've never seen you shoot somebody five times before, Jim."

      "I never had to listen to someone make you scream before, either."

      "Your love feels so good, man.  Like a big blanket around me all
the time."  Blair smiled against Jim's chest.

      "I wish I could just...lose all this damn baggage and enjoy this."

      "What I was saying before is that I didn't have any big game plan
when I kissed you."

      "So it was like a fraternal kind of move for you?"  Jim braced
himself for feeling like a complete fool, and also for a lengthy diatribe on
how men in other cultures kiss each other for platonic reasons. 

       "No way, man.  I wanted you--but I wasn't sure how or what
or--or how I was gonna handle it if you said yes and wanted to...you
know..."

       "Do the pitching?"

       "Yeah.  I didn't know if my catcher's mit was ready."  Blair
enjoyed their shared chuckle. "I'm not gay or bi, Jim.  At least I haven't
been with a man before.  I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it--I
never thought love should be a slave to gender or societal rules.  I just
never wanted to kiss another man until now."

      "I think I might know why we're all screwed up--bad choice of
words.  Why this is so confusing.  When you've picked out someone you'd
like to sleep with before, haven't you usually had that thought long before
you loved her--if in fact you ever did?"

     "Well, the physical thing has usually been there before the love,
yeah...  Even with Maya, I was real excited by her in every other way
before we got to know each other.  I guess I see where you're going with
this."

     "Our..."  Jim seemed to grope for the word.  Blair supplied it.

     "Love?"  he suggested contentedly from the cocoon of Jim's
embrace.

     "Yeah,"  Jim replied softly, rubbing Blair's back in a slow circle. 
"Our love has a different base--the love is there first, and the physical part
is growing out of that.  That's a big change of pace for both of us."

     "True..."  Blair seemed lost in contemplation.  "So maybe instead
of having the physical part down pat and working on the relationship,
we've got the relationship down pat and have to work on the physical side
of things?"

     "Makes sense to me.  I mean, at the risk of sounding old-fashioned
here, people used to do it that way and the divorce rate was a hell of a lot
lower.  I mean, how many women have you known that you lusted after
but couldn't stand when you got to know them?  People like the physical
package, and then they act on that. But marriage takes you under the
surface, and makes you build a relationship or you fold--you split up.  Like
Carolyn and me."  Jim paused, smiling at the fact that Blair seemed to
have taken up residence in his arms.  It was like having a warm, soft teddy
bear permanently affixed to his body.  The fact that Blair was soaking up
the closeness like a dying man on a desert laps up water touched his heart.
"Blair, there was never anything this strong...emotionally...between
Carolyn and me."  Jim paused.  "It's just that...what if I can't ever...if I can't
deal with you..."

     "Penetrating you?"  Blair hated the clinical sound of it, but
preferred just saying it to going around in circles to say the same thing.

     "Yeah."  Jim seemed almost relieved by the candor.  He stared out
at the city below, as if he were unable to meet Blair's eyes right at that
moment. 

     "I don't know if I can deal with you doing that to me either.  I don't
know if I can suck you off or if it'll make me gag."  Blair pulled away
from Jim and stood next to him, looking out at the lights of Cascade.  "I
don't know if I'm gonna be able to actually do it to you if you want me to. 
I know I'm supposed to be your guide, but right now I don't feel like I
could find my own way out of a flashlight factory in broad daylight."  Jim
really laughed at that, and a little of Blair's own tension eased.  "I know I
love you.  I wanna get close to you.  I know that I don't ever want to lose
you.  Not ever.  I don't wanna share you with anybody else.  I don't want
somebody else to be the one you love most and I don't want you to hold a
woman and make love to her and dress up for her and take her nice places. 
I want you to do all that for me.  Nobody else."  Blair had babbled out his
every intimate thought, and now he looked red-faced and devastated.  

     "You mean that?"  Jim asked softly, turning and taking the flushed
face in his hands gently.

     "I'm sorry, Jim.  It's just that somewhere along the line, I fell in
love with you and I just haven't been able to figure out what the hell to do
about it."

     "And when you tried something, I slugged you."

     "I feel like an idiot.  I didn't mean to put pressure on you."

     "When you stood by me after Danny Choi was killed, I realized
there was something meaningful between us.  You didn't have to do that. 
It struck me when he was shot, and I knew you were in danger, and
Tommy Juno was shooting at the truck--it hit me how much I was really
starting to care about you.  That you were more to me than a means to an
end in controlling my senses.  The way you calmed me down at the scene,
tried to offer to stay with me that night, even though it was awkward as
hell and I didn't help you much.  I knew a lot of it had to do with wanting
me for a subject, but you didn't have to treat me with sensitivity and
kindness...and you didn't have to be loyal to me when I was doing
something illegal.  I really fell in love with you when I realized how
complete you made me feel.  And I don't just mean because you were
helping me rein in this sentinel thing.  You...filled my life."  Jim took a
deep breath, feeling unburdened by finally telling Blair how he felt.  God
knows he hadn't ever said anything to him in so many words before.  "I
resisted you staying here after the warehouse blew up because I knew I'd
never want you to leave again.  And I just figured you would.  Normally I
would have just invited you to flop at my place for the night. But by then,
I wanted you around all the time.  And I wasn't looking forward to the
adjustment when you left."

     "I never knew you really wanted me here--I mean, back then."

     "One thing I *am* good at doing is bluffing.  I play a mean hand of
poker."  Jim pulled Blair's face forward and kissed the end of his nose. 
"But I didn't know what to do about it either, so I didn't do anything."

     "For a couple of enlightened men of the 90s, we're pathetic," Blair
announced, laughing a little.

     "Look, I don't mean to say there's anything wrong with being gay
or bi.  It's just that where I come from, my family--everything in my
military and police training--screams out against it.  That doesn't mean it's
wrong or bad or dirty...just that it's something...taboo, I guess."  Jim
paused.  "So where do we go from here?"  he asked, sitting on the edge of
one of the outdoor chairs.

     "I don't know.  Wanna date for awhile?"

     "Date?"  Jim seemed shocked.

     "Yeah, you know, go places together, cuddle, hold hands--well, the
cuddling and holding hands part we'll have to do here--but we could just
take it slow."

     "What about sex?"

     "At least we're not talking about baseball anymore,"  Blair
quipped.  "Why don't we just try getting used to thinking about each other
this way instead of worrying about getting to first base right now?  We
could, um, agree not to see any other people--just kind of work on 'us'."

     "I don't want to see someone else,"  Jim replied immediately.

     "Me either."  There was an uneasy silence.  The night was getting
colder, and the familiar warmth of the loft beckoned.

     "Well...I guess we could go inside and watch TV for a while.  Just
relax and leave it all alone for now?  I think we know what we both
want...maybe it's just going to take us a while to get it." Jim stood up and
held a hand out to Blair, who took it happily and followed him inside. 
After Jim had turned on the TV and settled on the couch, Blair plopped
down beside him and lifted one of Jim's arms to drape over his shoulders. 
He rested his head on the larger man's shoulder, snuggling against Jim and
actually not caring if he was subjected to a line up of inane comedies for
the evening.  Jim didn't seem to care what was on either as he had just
flipped on the set and settled in with Blair, contentedly staring at the first
thing that came on the screen.

     "I don't know if I'm ever going to let you out of my arms again. 
You feel pretty good here." Jim sighed as he relaxed into the cushions,
loving the warm weight of Blair against his side.

     "Simon might think it's a little funny when you do your reports
with me sitting on your lap." 

     "He shouldn't knock it unless he's tried it."  Jim laughed a little.

     "Nothing against Simon, but I don't think I'm volunteering."

     "You better not be.  I get jealous."

     "Good."

     "I'm possessive."

     "Hey, it's nice to feel wanted, man,"  Blair replied with a grin.

     "I'm demanding."

     "I already cook for you."

     "True.  Carolyn didn't do that."  Jim mentally kicked himself.  "Not
that I'm comparing you to her."

     "It would be kinda natural.  She's the last person you lived with,
aside from being the last person you considered your significant other."

     "But see, when I look at you, I forget there ever was anyone else."

     "Do you really mean that?"  Blair straightened up to face Jim.

     "I don't usually say things I don't mean, Chief."

     "I'd really like to...um, I want to...kiss you again--if you think that'd
be okay." 

     "I think it'd be more than okay."  Jim smiled and shifted on the
couch to face Blair.  Leaning forward, he brought a hand up to Blair's
cheek as the other moved to meet him, their mouths brushing tentatively. 
It seemed a bit awkward at first, but soon Jim felt himself relaxing into
the contact.  He pressed against Blair's lips, letting himself notice how soft
they felt, opening  up his senses to the touch and taste of his guide.  Blair's
lips parted a bit, and Jim took the invitation to carefully probe them with
his tongue.  Blair moaned somewhere deep in his throat, thrilled that Jim
had accepted the invitation.  The kiss was a slow, gentle experience,
finally ending with the mutual need for oxygen taking over.

     "You're pretty good at that," Blair murmured, grinning.

     "I think we should test it a little further.  You know--a larger
sample for you to draw your conclusions from."

     "God I love research,"  Blair responded, moving back toward Jim.

     A couple of sitcoms later, it occurred to Jim that he'd spent most of
the evening on the couch, necking like a teenager.  Blair was still happily
nipping at an earlobe, catching his breath between bouts of kissing.  Still,
as much as he was enjoying the exchange of warmth, the closeness and
the process of learning every nuance of Blair's mouth, face and neck, his
body was still not responding. It was like any other pleasant, relaxing
activity, though his heart felt like it could burst just from the pure love and
joy of being this intimate with his friend.  He straightened up, leaving
Blair a little startled.  Blair didn't have the hang up.  It wasn't fair to get
him all hot and bothered and offer him nothing in return.

     "Jim?"  Blair finally sat up as well, pushing his hair back from
where it was falling in his face.

     "This isn't fair to you."  He stood up and started pacing again.  "I...I
love being with you...like this," he gestured at the couch, "but nothing...I
don't feel--"

     "Nothing's happening?"  Blair looked up at him hesitantly.

     "Nothing physical."

     "What's happening inside?"

     "Fireworks," Jim replied, laughing a little.  Blair grinned and
sighed in relief.

     "We agreed to take it slow.  Date a little.  Get used to each other. 
It'll all come in time." Blair buried his face in both hands.  "I *so* don't
believe I just said that!"  He was chuckling a little.

     "Hey, man, the song says--it don't come easy."  Jim was relaxing
into the joke now, and Blair stood up and turned off the TV with the
remote, still chortling at Jim's retort.

     "I better turn in.  I'm filling in for one of my profs for an 8:30
class."

     "Where...?"

     "The big lecture hall in the--"

     "No, dummy--where are you sleeping tonight?"  Jim watched
Blair's puzzled expression, then noticed the corners of the mouth
twitching upward.

     "Am I gettin' an invitation?"

     "I was just wondering what you'd think of sleeping upstairs." 
There.  He'd said it.  Jim wondered if it was humanly possible to blush the
color of a fire hydrant.

     "What do you think?  Am I going to make you uneasy?"

     "Maybe.  I don't know.  I never asked you if you were...you
know--from us kissing."

     "Now would be a hell of a good time for me to take a shower." 
Blair headed for the bathroom.   "Mind if I go first?"  he asked, already in
the bathroom starting the water.

     "Would it matter?"  Jim needled good-naturedly.  

     Blair emerged from the shower wrapped in a towel and headed for
his room.  Jim passed him wordlessly, slipping into the bathroom and
taking his turn.  He took in the aroma of Blair's evening ablutions:  the
soap, the shampoo, the toothpaste and the unmistakable scent of Blair that
he'd know in any crowd, any time.  He started the shower and as he
washed, noted how carefully Blair tidied up after himself.  There were no
ungodly long hairs left behind, no soggy towels, no uncapped dribbling
toothpaste--Blair had taken his tongue-lashings to heart over the years and
had become almost neater than Jim in the way he left their communal
living areas. 

     The blow drier was running now.  Blair almost never washed his
hair again at night.  Maybe that meant he was going to sleep upstairs...

     Blair finished drying his hair and found a clean pair of boxers in
the drawer.  There was a nasty little draft creeping under the fire escape
door, like there usually was in the cold weather. Blair pulled on a pair of
clean white socks to dispel the chill of the floor.  He'd almost thought Jim
had changed his mind about the physical side of things on the couch, but
despite his own arousal, he'd felt no such thing from Jim.  He knew the
other had to have picked up on his partial hardness and rapid breathing,
but was glad that Jim hadn't made a big deal out of it.  Truthfully, if he
had thought a wild session of no-holds-barred sex was coming, Blair
figured he'd have had some problems getting aroused instead of terrified. 
Everyone seemed to assume he had tried every sexual trick in the book. 
The truth was he had slept with a few women he'd really cared about,
dated tons more and flirted with everything female.  He wasn't even truly
the sex maniac he claimed to be, and he had never been with a man.

     The thought of crawling into Jim's big bed with him was cozy and
inviting, if nothing else.  Blair smiled at the photo of himself and Jim at
the precinct's Christmas party that sat on his dresser in a small frame.  He
had jokingly pulled Jim aside and pointed upward just as Simon snapped a
picture of the two of them standing directly under a clump of mistletoe.  It
had brought a roar of laughter from the guys, and Jim had recovered
quickly, pushing Blair aside and grabbing an attractive woman detective
from Narcotics and putting her in what he had later jokingly called "the
Ellison liplock".  //Well, there's nobody under the mistletoe but you and
me now, big guy,// Blair thought as he headed for the stairs.

     "Thought you decided on staying down there,"  Jim commented as
Blair appeared at the head of the stairs.

     "Had to dry my hair.  I can't just shake it off like some people," 
Blair teased, climbing into the empty side of the bed.

     "Maybe this is silly--I mean, how is this gonna be for you?"

     "Jim, will you quit worrying about this?  Do you like having me in
here?"

     "Of course, but--"

     "You love me, right?"

     "Dumb question."  Jim reached over and tugged a lock of hair.

     "What  could be cozier on a cold fall night than snuggling under
the blankets with somebody you love?"

     "Not much."  Jim smiled over at his guide, who was shifting onto
his side, settling into a position to sleep so near to him that his breath
caressed Jim's shoulder with each exhalation. 

     "'night, libhober."  Blair seemed to be relaxing into sleep.

     "Lib-what?"  Jim had turned on his side also, so he was facing
Blair.  Blair smiled warmly but didn't open his eyes.

     "It means 'lover' in Yiddish."

     "Not yet, baby.  Soon, I hope."  Jim reached out and stroked the
silky clean hair.

     "A lover is one who loves--we do that all the time,"  Blair
explained sleepily.      "That we do, Chief.  Sleep tight."  Jim spent
a long time watching his companionsleep before hee dozed off himself.

                  * * * * * * * *

     The first rays of sunlight poked and probed at Jim's closed eyes. 
He'd slept well oncehe dozed off, Blair's steady breathing like a lullaby to
his tired brain.  Now, as he opened his eyes and hoped to take in the sight
of his sleeping guide, he found his bed empty.  Checking the clock, he
discovered that the rays of sunlight were not the first, merely just more
persistent than their predecessors.  It was almost nine.  He didn't have to
be to work until afternoon, since a late stakeout was part of the schedule. 
Besides the lingering scent of Blair, another scent registered before Jim
had even focused enough to see its origin.  On Blair's pillow was a single
red rose, with a note attached, a CD beneath it.  Raising himself on his
elbow, Jim picked up the flower and its attached note and read it.

     "Morning, libhober--     

     Figured you could use a few more hours since you're going to be
out late tonight.  You're a vision when you're asleep, you know that? 
You're really beautiful, man.  Smell the rose, think about me, and play
track #3.  I love you, and I loved last night.  Anybody'd be lucky to have as
much love as we have right now, lover.

     Miss you already!

        Love, Blair"

      Jim found himself blinking back tears at the note as he fumbled
with the CD to put it in the small player near the bed.  Blair had gotten
him the clock radio CD player for Christmas, and Jim had dozed off to the
sounds of his favorite music more than once.  "Barbara Streisand's
Greatest Hits?"  Jim read aloud, dumbfounded at Blair's choice of music. 
He'd expected some tribal mating chant accompanied by thunderous
drums.  He loaded the CD and after choosing track 3, stretched back out to
listen.

     //No more talk of darkness,
     Forget these wide-eyed fears,
     I'm here...
     Nothing can harm you,
     My words will warm and calm you.
     Let me be your freedom, 
     Let daylight dry your tears,
     I'm here, with you beside you,
     To guard you and to guide you.  

     Then say you love me every winter morning,
     Turn my head with talk of summertime,

     Say you need me with you now and always,
     Promise me that all you say is true...
     That's all I ask of you.  

     Let me be your shelter,
     Let me be your light,
     You're safe,
     No one will find you,
     Your fears are far behind you,
     All we need is freedom,
     A world that's warm and bright,
     And you, always beside me,
     To hold me and to hide me.  

     Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime,
     Let me lead you from your solitude,     
     Say you need me with you here beside you,
     Anywhere you go, let me go too...
     That's all I ask of you.  

     Say the word and I will follow you.
     Share each day with me,
     Each night, each morning,
     Say you feel the way I do...
     That's all I ask of you.

     Anywhere you go, let me go too.
     Love me...
     That's all I ask of you..."

     Jim reached over and turned off the player, stunned into a teary
silence by the beauty of the lyrics, and how perfectly they fit his
relationship with the curly-headed enigma who had claimed his heart very
shortly after he blew into Jim's life.  Blair was beautiful,
intelligent...perfect. Why he'd settle for a battle-scarred, older male cop
was beyond Jim.  It had to be true love.  Only true love could shove
unlikely partners together and hold them there like krazy glue against all
odds and logic. 

     And all Blair truly ever asked of Jim was his love and to be let into
every nook and cranny of his life, soul and psyche.  Once he was
permitted entry, Blair flourished like a rose in the sun. He seemed capable
of bouncing back from some phenomenally frightening and stressful
situations, to juggle an impossible schedule and to give everything he did
that special "Sandburg touch".  All of it worked for that quirky little
bundle of energy who had slept so quietly next to him the night before as
long as he was secure that Jim was around, and that he had his approval. 
Blair the borderline genius, almost-Ph.D., life of the party worked the
hardest to gain Jim's approval.  No class paper or lecture received his
passion as much as the project of pleasing Jim.  It might be food
preparation, pulling them out of a tight spot on a case, coming up with a
brainstorm, or just teaching Jim some new trick for relaxing and
controlling his senses.  No matter what it was, Blair looked most elated
when he'd done something to make Jim happy or proud of him.  Jim clung
to the pillow heavy with the scent of Blair's freshly shampooed hair and
played the song again.  

     "That may be all you're asking, baby, but you deserve so much
more,"  Jim sighed to himself. It was going to be a long road. 

                  * * * * * * * *       

     Blair had found his day at the university to be long and tedious. 
He hadn't lied to Jim in his note that he missed him before he ever left the
loft that morning.  He'd spent most of the day in a sappy lover's haze, only
marginally attentive to anything but his own musings about what might
happen next between him and his partner.     

     The paragraph he had been revising and reworking for the past
hour just wasn't taking shape.  Tired of staring at the computer screen,
Blair pulled off his glasses and took a Tylenol for the subtle pounding
starting from a mixture of eyestrain and the egg on his forehead. 
Normally, he would have mixed up some special herbal tea or some other
natural remedy instead of the over-the-counter pill, but it all suddenly
seemed like too much work.  He knew he was supposed to join Jim at the
station shortly to go over a few details on their current case and then to sit
through the long stakeout.  Blair wondered about the ethics and
possibilities of making out during a stakeout as he pulled on his coat, shut
down the computer and headed out of his office.

     "...wasting our time with this,"  Jim concluded as Blair poked his
head in Simon's office. "I doubt as Yeager's going to be stupid enough to
make a move after we just arrested one of his key people."  Jim noticed
that Simon's attention had shifted to his partner who had entered the office
and seated himself in a chair near Jim's.

     "Did you get the license number of the truck that hit you,
Sandburg?"  Simon asked, visually assessing the purplish lump on Blair's
forehead and the badly swollen portion of his mouth.  He tried to avert his
eyes from Jim's slightly bruised knuckles for the moment.  The connection
that was forming was disturbing.

     "Jim was trying to teach me some self-defense moves--I guess I
zigged when I shoulda zagged--or something.  I'm going to go back to just
hiding behind Jim for now."  Blair smiled and Simon chuckled a bit,
figuring the scenario sounded pretty logical.  And it explained everything.

     "Now he's making me buy lunch every day this week,"  Jim added,
exchanging a knowing, thanks-for-saving-my-ass smile with Blair.

     "You really think this stakeout is a waste?"  Simon leaned back in
his chair, apparently considering whatever argument Jim had been
making.

     "Narcotics got their wires crossed and arrested one of Yeager's top
distributors late last night,"  Jim clarified to Blair.  "I don't see him
making a move when the heat's on."

     "I thought this was our operation,"  Blair responded.

     "It is,"  Simon agreed.  "But like Jim said, some wires got
crossed--or a little glory-grabbing got started--and Narcotics got a nice
collar for their department but may have cost us a much more significant
bust in the process."

     "I say we cool it awhile, keep Yeager under routine surveillance,
see what develops."      

     "All right.  Why don't you clean up a little paperwork and then call
it a night?  I've got a unit watching Yeager."    

     "Sounds great.  C'mon, Chief."  Jim stood and opened the door,
stepping back for Blair to pass through first.  Blair smiled at the gesture
and Jim had to consciously curb the inclination to reach up and caress that
pony tail of soft hair.  He could only imagine it falling over bare
shoulders, getting tangled between his fingers, skimming his skin while
Blair...//while Blair what?//  He confronted the image and found it was not
only not repulsive, but it made him warm all over:  while Blair was
impaled on Jim, rocking above him to the rhythm Jim was setting with
passioned thrusts...     

     "Jim?"  Blair's voice, steady and anything but passionate, shook
him back to reality.  He could only hope his pants weren't standing out
like a pop-up tent from that little vision.  Grateful for the file folder that
could be casually carried in front of his groin, Jim resumed his walk
across the office. Shit--he'd zoned out right there in the bullpen, high on
the imagined sight, smell and sound of making love to Blair.  He stole a
glance at the glasses and the ponytail now, and had fantasies of grabbing
the other man, tossing the glasses aside to reveal those beautiful eyes,
loosening that mane of hair, pulling the shirt open... "JIM."  It was an
assertive statement from Blair, who had joined him now, and was trying to
shake him out of the trance he was in again in front of a few puzzled
coworkers.

     "Yeah, sorry.  Guess I'm just tired."  He forced a little smile and
returned with Blair to the desk, relieved he was the sentinel in the crowd. 
At least Blair couldn't feel his body temperature and smell his arousal. 
"Thanks for the note," he whispered to Blair, who smiled and blushed. 
"The song was perfect."  

     Jim was ostensibly showing Blair the contents of a file as they sat
crouched together at Jim's desk.  Jim pulled a notepad closer and drew a
big heart with an arrow through it.  Blair giggled, then added an "I" and a
"U" on either side of it.  Trying to keep straight faces and appear busy,
they continued their paper exchange.  Blair started a new page with a song
title.  "Precious and Few". Jim thought a moment and then countered with
"You Decorated My Life."  He watched Blair read it, smile again and
reach under his glasses to catch a tear.  "Everything I Do (I Do It for
You)".  Jim had kept one hand in his lap up to now.  He moved it to rest
on Blair's knee.  Jim wrote hastily: "Circle in the Sand".  Blair closed his
eyes after that one, thinking of the words:  "I begin, baby, where you end,
some things are forever...circle in the sand, round and round, never ending
love is what we've found.  And you complete the heart of me, our love is
all we need."  Jim's hand contracted a little on his knee, reminding him
where he was.  He opened his eyes and wrote a response.  "Hopelessly
Devoted to You".  Jim smiled broadly, then, not caring who saw it.  "You
light Up My Life" he wrote.  Blair was still smiling softly, looking
hopelessly in love and completely sappy--and Jim loved every minute of
it.  No one seemed to be watching them, and he frankly didn't care if they
did.  This was one of those once in a lifetime romantic moments.  "Always
and Forever", came the response.  Unable to contain the fantasies that
were starting to dance through his mind, Jim wrote, "Kiss You All Over". 
The look on Blair's face was priceless.  A mixture of shock, hope, love
and a little bashfulness all at once.  Blair thought a moment and then
smiled widely.  "Kiss on my List".

     "Well, I've got tests to grade,"  Blair announced loudly enough for
a couple of neighboring desk occupants to hear.  "Later, man."

     "Yeah, see you in a while, Chief,"  Jim replied, knowing he would
kill an hour or so staring at the paperwork in front of him before he bolted
for the elevator.

     There was music coming from inside the loft.  It wasn't necessarily
the soft, romantic stuff Jim had expected to hear.  It had a bouncy dance
beat, but the thought of watching Blair moving to that beat propelled him
up the stairs two at a time.  

     Blair was in the kitchen, clad in a blue nightshirt Jim didn't
remember ever seeing before, his body swaying to the music while he
prepared something. 

     "Hey there, Chief,"  Jim said above the music.  Blair merely turned
his head to look over a shoulder and smiled seductively.  He had known
exactly when Jim came in and was putting on a show for him.  The song
was some inane tune Jim had heard at least four times each day on most of
the local pop stations.  He had yet to figure out the lyrics, but the beat was
sending Blair's hips in some magical directions.  Jim tossed his keys in the
basket and his coat on the floor somewhere, not caring that it had missed
the hook.  He came up behind Blair, molding himself around the moving
body from behind.  The rhythmic motion was easy to pick up, and soon
Jim was moving with Blair, the friction of the other man's body against
Jim's growing hardness madness-inducing.  The blue collarless cotton
nightshirt, which picked up the color of Blair's eyes and was unbuttoned
down almost to his waist was obviously Blair's only garment.  He was
freshly showered and his hair smelled of something sweet and herbal at
the same time.  The salad he had been fixing was abandoned as he was not
allowed any use of his arms.  They were caught in Jim's embrace, along
with the rest of him.    

     "Dinner?"  Blair asked, a little breathless as the radio station he
was listening to blessedly began to play something soft and romantic. 

     "At the station...I had this...fantasy,"  Jim breathed into Blair's ear. 
He kissed the side of Blair's neck and trailed his lips up behind the ear,
then blew softly into it.     

     "You inside me, taking me...I was on top of you in bed somehow?"

     "How did you...?"  Jim stepped back and turned Blair around to
face him.  The sight of the bruises and the swelling around Blair's mouth
always jerked Jim back to reality.  He reached up and lightly traced the
swollen side of Blair's mouth with a  thumb.  Kissing had been a challenge
at first the night before, but they had managed to keep it gentle enough.

     "It worked,"  Blair said quietly, smiling.  "I had that same fantasy
today--trouble was, I was giving a test at the time.  Good thing I had a
lectern in front of me.  When I saw you at the station, it just hit me full
force again--and I consciously tried to share it with you."

     "I really want to make love to you, baby.  God, when I think about
what I did to you--"

     "Stop it, Jim.  That's behind us."

     "The doctor said I could have killed you."  Jim's voice was barely a
whisper.

     "Nah.  I've gotten clobbered before--hang on.  He thought *you*
hit me?"

     "He threatened to go to the police and report it.  In a way though, I
have him to thank that we're together.  He really wrestled me into talking,
and he convinced me to level with you.  He also told me if that coffee
table had caught you a few inches to the left, it would have hit your
temple--and it could have been fatal."

     "Then it would be a hell of a tragic accident.  But you didn't take
out your gun and shoot me. It's not like you were trying--"

     "Blair, if you had died...dear God, I'd have put a bullet in my own
brain."

     "Don't you ever, ever dare say something like that again."  Blair's
voice was firmer than Jim had ever heard it, and the smaller set of hands
were powerfully gripping his biceps.  "You live, man. If anything ever
happens, you live--and you live for me.  See what I can't see, hear what I
can't hear--experience everything you can--because with our bond, man,
somehow I'll get to live through you--I just know it."

     "I love you."  Jim pulled Blair against him, almost crushing him in
a powerful hug.  "You're my life, baby.  Everything that matters to me. 
You're it."

     "Guess dinner can wait."  Blair wiggled suggestively in Jim's arms. 
He felt strong arms shift positions skillfully to carry him toward the stairs. 
There was no significant fear in Blair now as he relaxed into the arms that
held him.  There was so much love between them that it was its own
tangible entity. And it would guide both of them, and touch their
lovemaking with the same magic that had let them share the fantasy of it.

     Jim carefully laid his precious burden on the bed.  Blair was
almost immediately on his knees in the mattress, reaching up to unfasten
Jim's holster.  

     "You look...incredible,"  Jim whispered as he watched Blair
dispense with the holster and then return to his work, opening the buttons
on Jim's shirt slowly, stopping to kiss each little bit of flesh being
revealed.  The shirt soon joined the holster on the floor.  "I like you in
blue,"  Jim started on the nightshirt's buttons.  "Like you out of it better,
though."  He finally reached the last button and his breath caught at his
first real eyeful of Blair nude as the fabric slid off his shoulders and
dropped on the bed behind him.  

     "I got it tonight--just for tonight."  Then Blair simply lay back on
the bed, completely naked, and waited for Jim.  There was something so
erotic in that sight that Jim worried he'd come right then without ever
having removed the rest of his clothing.  Blair was beautifully built, very
masculine but more lightly muscled than Jim, with a soft dusting of body
hair in just the right places, in Jim's opinion.  Blair parted his legs a little
as he lay there, and brought his hands up to rest on their backs on the
pillows.  His own erection was already significant.  Jim hastily finished
undressing, barely able to tear his eyes away from what waited for him in
his bed.  Finally free of his clothing, he pounced on Blair, rolling them on
their sides to avoid pinning his smaller lover under his full weight.

     Hands skimmed and explored, furred chest meeting smooth,
erections brushing and dueling together as the two lovers kissed deeply
but gently.  Jim licked and kissed at the bruising on Blair's face until the
other finally grasped him by the chin and made Jim meet his eyes.

     "Forget it.  Once and for all.  Make love to me, not my bruises."     

     "You got it, baby."  Jim moved down to Blair's neck, licking and
sucking at the smooth skin there.  Blair arched against him, wrapping one
leg around Jim's to pull them tighter together.  Jim's hands slid down to
Blair's bottom and gripping the firm mounds, pumped their bodies
together.  In a shared cry, both men came, their seed joining and mingling
between them as the intimate dance continued.  Spent and panting, they
finally came to rest in each others arms, not wanting to break the bond
created by their mingled body fluids.

     "There's time for fantasies later, libhober,"  Blair whispered in
Jim's ear, sensing his disappointment that they'd both come so fast, despite
the magical beauty of the moment.  "Our reality is better than anybody's
fantasy."  He stretched up to kiss his lover, and found himself smothered
in the reply, his lips and then his entire face showered in kisses.  Jim
turned them then so he was completely on top of Blair, though careful not
to drop his full weight on the other's chest.  Partially supported by his
arms on either side of Blair's head, he tangled his hands in that glorious,
silky hair.    

     "I could have never had a fantasy as beautiful as the reality of you. 
I just wish I could have let myself feel it, that I didn't have so many
damned hang-ups...and God, that I hadn't reacted--" Four gentle fingers
covered his mouth.

     "I don't ever again want you to mention hitting me.  You didn't
mean to do it, libhober."  It was amazing how a word that seemed a little
on the ugly side sounded so melodic and beautiful coming out in Blair's
soft voice in the sanctuary of their bedroom.  "I know you'd never hurt me
on purpose.  With your senses, sometimes things just happen so intensely,
you lose control...forget it--for me?"

     "Anything for you, baby."  Jim kissed the fingers lightly resting
against his mouth.  He tugged the blankets up to cover their cooling
bodies.   

     "Hungry?"  Blair asked sleepily.   

     "I just had a king's banquet, Chief."  Jim rolled them on their sides
and dozed off, listening to Blair's little laugh.

     The steamy fantasy that had propelled both of them to the next
level in their relationship remained just that--a fantasy.  In a more sober
moment, both agreed they needed time to work up to intercourse.  There
was plenty of exploration and experimentation to be shared.  Blair had
very accurately assessed that they had yet to touch each other in some
important places, and that they would probably enjoy the big moment a lot
more if they were a little more comfortable with each other.

     Days were spent the way they always had been, with the possible
exception of the song title game being played frequently at Jim's desk
when they'd had no time all day to express their new love any other way. 
Blair often received a single red rose, mysteriously delivered to his office
while he was in classes.  Jim found little love notes in the most unlikely
places, along with various little beads or odd furry fetishes, which Blair
would later explain as being some peculiar mating/marriage symbol from
some remote tribe in a far corner of the world.  The detective often
opened his desk drawer and handled the little items, warmed to his soul
each time he thought of Blair hunting them down and finding ways to
stash them in his pockets, the desk drawers, or somewhere in the
Expedition he knew Jim would look before the day was over.

     Nights were spent on romantic dinners, slow dancing in a firelit
living room and finally experimenting with their new intimacy in the big
bed upstairs before falling asleep in each other's arms.  Life was more
perfect, peaceful and wonderful than either of  them ever recalled it being.
They finally went on a few of the dates they'd talked about that first
evening, sometimes sneaking into the back of a movie theatre and holding
hands--even through the action thrillers.

     For the first time in his life, Blair had given his heart completely to
another person and believed him wholly when he promised forever in the
warm sanctuary of their bed.  He'd even made a great show of deleting all
the single women in his laptop's cardfile program, which he used to keep
track of the zillions of people he seemed to have met over the course of
his life.  Jim had gotten a kick out of the gesture and seemed touched by it
at the same time.  He hadn't seen anyone else either since his relationship
with Blair had taken a romantic turn.  Oddly enough, he didn't miss it.  As
he had told the doctor when he first discussed what was happening with
him and his partner, he found nothing effeminate or weak about Blair. He
just seemed to find a myriad of things about this man that were truly
beautiful, engaging and sexy.  He could be flirty and enticing, yet almost
sweetly shy when Jim took the bait.  He was getting the impression that
Blair was much less of a Casanova than he'd claimed, and he liked to
make everyone think he was.  Never being big on one night stands
himself, Jim liked knowing that despite his frequent tall tales, his younger
partner was the same way.     

     On a snowy Tuesday in February, just a few days before
Valentine's Day, a challenge presented itself that Jim wasn't quite
prepared to handle gracefully.  Blair had agreed to keep their new
relationship quiet, at least for the time being.  Of  course, that left the rest
of the world viewing them as two eligible bachelors.  When Jim was
called into Simon's office, he was blind-sided by the predicament, and he
could only hope Blair would understand.

     "Blair?"  Jim called into the loft, not sure if he wanted Blair to be
there or not.  The roads were getting slippery, so hearing the familiar
voice would ease Jim's mind.  Blair not being home,however, would give
Jim a little more time to rehearse his explanation.    

     "Up here, libhober,"  Blair responded.  When he used that name for
Jim, it usually meant onething:  Blair was waiting for him in bed, probably
with some easy-to-eat food they could feed each other.  //God, this is
getting worse.//

     "Wow,"  Jim commented as he reached the head of the stairs. 
Blair was flaked out on the bed, dressed in a clingy pair of blue silk
boxers, doing some decidedly obscene things with his lips and tongue to a
thick pretzel stick.  For a moment, all Jim could visualize was pouncing
on Blair and pulling down the shorts, kissing every inch of him.  They'd
progressed from frantic humping to hand jobs to a lot of all-over kissing
and nibbling.  The way Blair looked at that moment, the concept of giving
him a blow job didn't even make Jim's stomach flop uneasily like it
usually did.

     "You gonna just stand there and stare or are you gonna get rid of
all those clothes and join me?  I've got food."

     "You'd be enough to lure me without dinner, Chief."  Jim sat on
the edge of the bed.  "Blair, we have to talk about something."

     "What's wrong?"  Blair straightened up from his reclined position,
tossing the pretzel stick aside and staring intently at Jim.  //Dear God, he
thinks I'm dumping him.//          "Nothing, baby.  Nothing--with us. 
But something's come up...I...it's about Valentine'sDay--that dinner dance
the department's putting on in conjunction with the mayor's office?"  

     "The big fundraiser for the new literacy program?"     

     "Yeah, that's the one.  Blair, I...I know we were going to have a
quiet evening together, but I--"

     "I think that's wonderful, Jim.  You...you can't know what this
means to me.  I thought--"

     "Wait a second, Chief.  What're you talking about?"    

     "Well...about us going to the..."  It seemed to dawn on Blair
suddenly that Jim wasn't invitinghim to go.  He seemed to blush all the
way into his hairline.  He looked down now, obviously embarrassed by his
erroneous assumption.  "I'm sorry.  I...I thought--never mind.  What were
you trying to say?"

     "Look, if I'd had any real choice, you know I wouldn't change our
plans...but this came at me out of nowhere--I guess I couldn't talk my way
out of fit."

     "Just spit it out, Jim."  Blair's obvious disappointment was now
giving way to annoyance.

     "Look, the mayor has this niece--she's kind of like a daughter to
him, I guess.  She's going to be in town over this weekend, and he
wanted...he asked Simon...if he knew of someone he could trust to show
her a nice evening.  I guess I won the toss."  Jim waited for the explosion.

     "So you're taking her to the dinner dance?"  Blair asked softly.  Jim
could see the beginnings of tears pooling in Blair's eyes.

     "Look, it's not something I want to do, Blair.  I just got stuck, and I
didn't know how to say no to that."

     "Try 'I'm seeing someone steadily and we have plans'. Works for
me."  Blair climbed out of the bed and found the old flannel shirt he'd
discarded on the floor when he got undressed to wait for Jim.

     "Simon knows I'm not seeing anybody."

     "But you *are* seeing somebody, Jim."  There was a hurt in Blair's
eyes that defied words. Hurt, followed by a slump of shoulders and a
lowering of the head that spoke of defeat.  "You don't have to tell him it's
me." 

     "Look, it's one stupid, boring dinner dance."

     "On Valentine's Day."  Blair looked up again, regaining his temper.

     "What do you want me to say?"  Jim jumped to his feet and raised
his voice at the same time. "I'm making it with Sandburg and he won't let
me go?!"  Jim wanted to retract the words as soon as they were out.  He
was getting angry at Blair because the younger man was right, and he
wasn't helping Jim out by forgiving and justifying his wrongful actions. 
But if he told Simon he was with someone, Simon would persist until he
knew who it was. 

     "I can't believe you just said that."  Blair hugged the shirt more
tightly around himself.



     "I'm sorry, but you're being unreasonable about this."

     "I am?  If I were a woman, you wouldn't treat me this way."  Blair
headed for the stairs, but Jim caught his arm.

     "You're not a woman and I sure as hell didn't expect you to be as
weepy and possessive as one."

     "I'm sorry I love you, Jim.  I'm sorry as hell that I don't like the idea
of you taking somebody else out on our first Valentine's Day together, but
I hate it and it's not okay with me!"  Blair yelled back.

      "I'm sorry this had to come up right now, Chief.  Look, we'll have
our own celebration when I get home--"  

     "Oh, yeah, right.  You'll take her out, have dinner with her, slow
dance with her and then come home and expect me to be lying here on my
back ready to take care of the rest of your needs for the evening?  God,
Jim, do you know how fucking barbaric that is?"  There were tears spilling
down Blair's cheeks now, but he only wiped them away angrily as if they
were a nuisance.  "I thought you loved me."       

     "Aren't you being a little melodramatic about this, Sandburg?  I
didn't say I was going to take her home and screw her.  I'm doing a favor
for a friend--"

     "I tell you what.  You take her to the dance, and then if she's dumb
enough to go for it, take her home and screw her because you sure as hell
aren't coming home and screwing me when you're finished!"  Blair started
down the stairs but one powerful arm yanked him back and spun him
around to face anger on Jim's face of an intensity Blair had never seen
before.  The fear he felt at Jim's anger and the bruising grip on his arm
must have gotten through to Jim because suddenly the large hand released
him. 

     "I know this is coming at the worst possible time, but I'm backed
into a corner here."

     "Yeah, I know.  Choose between being faithful to me and being
Jim Ellison, macho-hetero-super-stud."  Blair bounded down the steps
with Jim hot on his heels.  He grabbed the smaller man and spun him
around, gripping both his upper arms and shaking him.

     "That's a goddamn lousy thing to say, Sandburg,"  Jim growled,
shaking the other until his hair swung back and forth in his face.  "What
the hell do you want me to do?  Get your name tattooed on my ass? 
Maybe you want matching rings--is that it?"

     "Go ahead, Jim."  Blair's voice was uneven with the vibration of
his body being shaken.  It wasn't an unfamiliar sensation.  "Why don't you
slap me around a little, too?  Shaking's a good start." Blair almost
staggered as Jim released him and stepped back, visibly shaken himself. 
"A couple hard swats across the face go nicely with shaking me until my
head hurts.  You could always use your belt on me, but I doubt you'd want
to waste the time with that.  I've had it, Jim.  Go to your damn dance and
keep your precious reputation.  I should've taken the hint the first time
when you smacked the shit out of me that you weren't interested.  Don't
sweat it, man.  I won't stand in your way or threaten your precious image
with something as sordid as loving me."  Blair stalked off into his room
and slammed the door.

                  * * * * * * * *

     Jim turned up the collar of his coat as he trudged through the snow
up to the mayor's front door.  Blair had remained in the loft but had slept
behind locked doors in his own room when he wasn't sleeping on the floor
of his office at the university.  He had spent two nights doing precisely
that.  He tried to repeat to himself that Sarah Boswell, the mayor's niece,
was not to blame for his predicament.  He only had himself to thank for
that.  The most he could do now was get through this damned event and
then try to pick up the pieces of forever he'd thrown away when he
dumped Blair for Valentine's Day.

                  * * * * * * * *  

     Blair arrived at the loft after nine that evening.  He wanted to be
damn sure Jim was gone before he got home.  The last thing he wanted
was to see him all decked out in a suit and tie, smelling lightly of cologne,
on his way out to spend what was supposed to be their night with someone
else.  After all, what better night would there have been for them to
consummate their relationship fully than Valentine's Day?  Blair ignored
the lump in his throat and put on some water to boil for tea.  It was frigid
outside, the temperatures dropping below zero already.  He started a fire
in the fireplace and went into his bedroom to change into a warm suit of
sweats.  He caught sight of himself in the mirror as he tossed his shirt on
the bed.  The bruises on his upper arms had faded to a yellow-green color. 
Jim probably didn't even realize he'd left any.  The guy was just so
damned strong that he could do some real damage before he stopped to
think about it.  Blair shrugged it off and pulled the sweatshirt over his
head.  He was no stranger to bruises.  He'd certainly had worse. The
bottom line was, if the love was gone, Blair knew he should be too.

     Sarah tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder for the
thousandth time that evening. Jim forced a polite smile as she gave him a
sultry once over as they sat at the table for eight.  The other three couples
were on the dance floor, swaying to a soft, romantic song some guy had
asked the hired DJ to play for his wife.  The mayor and his wife, Simon
and his date and a city councilman and his wife had been their table mates
for the evening.  Simon had looked almost as suicidally bored as Jim was,
but at least he was genuinely interested in his date, a very attractive, leggy
assistant DA.  Sarah was a real beauty, and she was cultured and educated. 
Twenty six years old and a perfect body and perfect pedigree with all the
right schools and just the right repertoire of interesting stories of her
experiences studying art in Paris to keep any high society stuffed shirt
enthralled.    

     "I really like this song, Jim."  She caressed the back of his hand.   

     "Yeah, it's nice,"  he replied, absently.  Toni Braxton's voice was
pulling him in as he listened to words he could have sung from his own
heart at that moment:  "I don't want to sing another love song baby, I don't
want to hum another melody, I don't want to live my life without you..." 
//God, Blair, I don't want to live my life without you.  I don't want to be
this tense and angry all the time that I explode and take it out on you.  I've
hit you, shaken you, intimidated you, yelled at you, thrown your love and
your commitment back in your face...shit, I'm no better than one of
Naomi's sleazy boyfriends who slapped you around when you were a kid. 
The only reason you're helpless now is because you love me too much to
walk away.  The doctor was right...you would stay with me out of love and
take anything I dished out.//

     "JIM?"  Sarah's normally soft voice was strained with anger now.

     "Look, Sarah, I'm really sorry, but I can't keep this up.  I'm seeing
someone steadily--at least I was before tonight--and I stood him up
because I didn't want to own up to it in front of the people I work with." 
He stared at Sarah, shocked he'd told her all that in one blurted-out
sentence.

     "Him?  That *does* complicate things in the middle of all this
testosterone, doesn't it?"  Her response made him genuinely laugh for the
first time that evening. 

     "Yeah, it complicates it all right."    

     "Do you love him?"

     "You have no idea.  He's my whole life," Jim answered honestly.

     "Then don't let a bunch of narrow-minded idiots mess it up for
you."

     "You're really a very special lady, Sarah.  I don't want you to think
I didn't enjoy your company or that it's anything personal--"

     "It's only ten o'clock.  You might still have time to redeem yourself
if you get the lead out." She smiled.  "I've got a great idea."

     Blair jerked awake when the doorbell rang.  After treating himself
to a hot shower to get relaxed, he had dozed off on the couch, glasses
halfway down his nose, book open on his stomach. He pulled off the
glasses and tossed the book aside and trudged to the door.       "Yeah?"   

     "Special delivery for Blair Sandburg."

     "Kinda late, isn't it?"  Living in a cop's world had made him wary
of suspicious strangers at the door at night.

     "Very late, sir.  It was a special request from Jim Ellison."  Blair
considered that, then opened the door.

     "What--?"  He accepted a monstrous armload of red roses and a
large envelope.

     "Please read the card, sir.  I've been instructed to wait."

     "Okay.  Hang on."  Blair laid the roses on the couch and put his
glasses back on, opening the card while he looked over the
dark-uniformed delivery man.  He looked more like a chauffeur thana
courier.  The card was white with a large red heart in the center.  He
opened it and read the hand-written contents--in Jim's writing:  "The honor
of your presence is requested at a Valentine's Day dinner dance.  Please
accept transportation from the limousine that has been provided."

     "Sir?"  The delivery man prompted.

     "Yeah--um, have a seat.  I have to change."

     "I will be waiting in the white limousine downstairs.  Thank you,
sir."  He turned and retreated downstairs.

     Stunned beyond words, Blair re-read the card and then smelled the
roses.  He took a moment to fill a bucket with water and stuck the roses in
it.  It wasn't glamorous, but he didn't want his first official gift of roses to
die while he was gone.  He hurriedly brushed out his hair, changed into a
dark blue suit and white silk shirt, no tie.  He tossed on a little cologne,
slid into a pair of dark dress shoes and checked his look in the mirror. 
//Not bad,// he thought, smiling.

     Jim had busily sifted through a pile of CDS the DJ had kindly let
him explore looking for the right song while Sarah, his accomplice,
arranged the flowers and the limousine for Blair.  He had chosen and
thrown back almost every classic love song before he found one that had
made him think of Blair the last time he'd heard it on the radio.  It said
exactly what he wanted to say.

     "Jim--the limo's pulling up out front."  Sarah smiled as she
delivered the news to her date, who was crouched behind the DJ's set-up
amidst a mess of CDS.  "I'll take the limo home after Blair makes his
entrance.  Better hurry up and give the DJ your song."

     "Sarah, I don't know how to thank you." 

     "You and Blair can take me to lunch next week.  I'll be in town
until Wednesday.  Good luck."

     "Thanks."  He smiled as she hurried away.  After giving the DJ the
song and instructions to stop the music when Blair walked in, he made his
way to a good vantage point to see his lover arrive. Blair hesitantly made
his entrance, and looked nothing short of stunned when the music stopped.
There he was, in the dark blue suit Jim figured he'd wear, but with his hair
hanging loose on his shoulders instead of pulled back.  Blair knew exactly
how well Jim loved his hair down.

     "Blair Sandburg,"  the DJ announced over the sound system, "this
next song is for you, from Jim Ellison, who hopes you'll forgive him and
give him this dance."  

     The music started as Jim made his way across a dance floor of
stunned, motionless people to take Blair by both hands and lead him to the
middle of the crowd.  Without further discussion, Blair melted into Jim's
arms and they began to sway to Celine Dion's "If You Asked Me To":    

     //Used to be that I believed in something
     //Used to be that I believed in love

     It's been a long time since I've had that feeling
     I could love someone
     I could trust someone
     I said I'd never let nobody near my heart again
     I said I'd never let nobody in, but

     If you asked me to
     I just might change my mind
     And let you in my life forever
     If you asked me to
     I just might give my heart
     And stay here in your arms forever
     If you asked me to

     Somehow ever since I've been around you
     Can't go back to being on my own
     Can't help feeling, darling, since I've found you
     That I've found my home
     That I'm finally home
     I said I'd never let nobody get too close to me, darling
     I said I needed, needed to be free

     Ask me to, I will give my world to you, baby
     I need you now
     Ask me to, and I'll do anything for you, baby, 
     for you, baby  

     If you asked me to
     I'd let you in my life forever
     If you asked me to...

     As the song played, other couples had filled in the gaps on the
dance floor.  The roof hadn't caved in, no one had stoned them...Jim
Ellison realized that even the shock of his having a male lover hadn't been
adequate to halt the rotation of earth and disrupt the solar system.  And
Blair was warm in his arms, huddled against him as they swayed to the
music.  He could feel the little tremor of a few tears in the precious body
in his arms, but when he looked down into those watering blue eyes, he
saw nothing but joy...and enough love to last him a lifetime.  Their song
ended, and another slow song began.  Jim slowed their movement and
stepped back from his partner.     

     "I love you, Blair.  I just hope you can forgive me for being such
an idiot and treating you so badly."  He reached up and stroked Blair's
cheek with the backs of his fingers.  

     "It was my fault, Jim.  I was too possessive and I--"  Jim placed
four fingers over Blair's mouth.

     "Get one thing straight.  When somebody mistreats you, it isn't
your fault, baby.  You deserve to get back all the love and beauty and
loyalty you give."

     "You didn't mistreat me, Jim.  I overreacted," Blair replied as he
gently removed Jim's fingers from his mouth, and then kissed his hand
before releasing it.

     "No, I acted like an asshole, which seems to be my forte lately. 
Look, I'd really like to take you home so we could talk."

     "What about your date?"  Blair scanned the room, fully expecting
to see some attractive, unescorted female angrily stalking the perimeter of
the dance floor.

     "She left when you arrived.  Sarah's a nice girl.  She helped me
plan all this."     

     "You're kidding."   

     "Nope.  Come on, Chief.  I want to go home and open that bottle
of champagne I hid in the back of the fridge."    

     "I love you, libhober,"  Blair replied, whispering the endearment so
quietly that only Jim could pick it up with his exceptional hearing.  

     "Jim, Blair, wait up a minute."  Simon's voice halted them a few
feet from the coat room.

     "Look, Simon, I know this isn't what you expected--"  Jim began
before Simon raised a halting hand.     

     "I wanted to apologize for putting you in an awkward position with
asking you to escort Sarah tonight."    

     "You didn't know about...us,"  Blair offered, surprised at Jim's arm
coming around his shoulders as they talked with Simon. 

     "It's my fault, Simon.  It was up to me to level with you about this. 
I have a commitment to Blair, and I won't be seeing anyone else. 
Hopefully not ever, if he can put up with me that long."    

     "You know this is going to be a tough road with some people--at
the station, and really, the rest of the world, unfortunately."  Simon smiled
then.  He wasn't telling these two anything they didn't know, or anything
that would have changed the sappy lover's grins on their faces.  "But I'm
not one of those people.  I want to wish you the best."     

     "We've got that, Simon,"  Blair responded immediately. 

     "Is there anything I need to smooth over with the Mayor?"   

     "Sarah took care of that.  She was my accomplice."  Jim smiled
more widely and then looked down at Blair.  "Thanks for your support,
Simon.  If you'll excuse me, I have another date for Valentine's Day."     

     "Try to drive safely on the way home,"  Simon admonished with a
knowing grin.  He turned then and headed back to the party. 

     As soon as they were back in the loft, Jim ordered Blair to wait in
the living room.  He disappeared upstairs, rummaged around a while and
returned with a box wrapped in red paper with white hearts on it that
looked about the right size to hold a shirt. 

     "Happy Valentine's Day, love."  He handed the box to Blair.

     "Wait.  I gotta get mine for you.  It's in my roo--my old room."  He
smiled at the correction and hurried off to retrieve a small flat box
wrapped in red foil.  Both men sat on the couch with their respective
packages.  "Man, you look really good tonight."   Blair tugged on the dark
print tie Jim wore with the black shirt and dark purple suit.  Blair had
talked him into the color which he normally wouldn't have considered. 
The nicely tailored suit complimented the strong physique perfectly.  

     "When you walked into that room tonight...my heart just about
stopped.  And you left your hair down for me,"  Jim said, smiling and
running his fingers lightly through one side of Blair's mane of curls.     

     "When did you get me a present?"  Blair stroked the package as if
it were the most remarkable thing he'd ever held. 

     "Last week.  Open it."

     "Okay."  Blair smiled enthusiastically as he tore the paper off and
opened the box.  He pulled the flaps of tissue paper aside and was shocked
at the contents.  A rich navy blue linen shirt lay atop an obviously
expensive printed vest, most likely imported from some country Blair
should have been able to identify if his brain had been functioning.

     "The first time I came to your office, you were wearing a white
shirt and a printed vest.  I thought you were the most beautiful man I had
ever seen."    

     "You...but you hated me when we met."  Blair was caressing the
fabric of the vest, studying the pattern.    

     "I didn't necessarily like you right away, but I still thought you
were beautiful, even though that unnerved the hell out of me at the time."

     "I bet,"  Blair replied, laughing a little.  "Jim, this is beautiful. 
Where did you find it?"

     "That new import place downtown.  They have some really
interesting things there."

     "I've been wanting to get in there...man, this is perfect." 

     "We'll go out somewhere really classy tomorrow night--you can
break it in then--and I can show you off."   

     "Thanks, Jim.  I love it."  Blair smiled, picking up on the
significance of Jim's words.  He was being let out of his closet.   He fixed
his gaze on the small box in Jim's hand.  "It isn't much, but...well, open it,
okay?"    

     "I'm sure I'll love it if it's from you, Chief."  Jim opened the
package as instructed.  Inside the box was a gold pocket watch.  

     "It was my great grandfather's.  See, when Naomi got pregnant
with me, it kinda made her persona non grata with my grandparents.  It's
not that they didn't know about her...lifestyle, but before me, they could
finesse it away in front of their classy friends--yeah, believe it or not, I'm
descended from rich people."

     "Oh, I don't think that's so unbelievable.  You could play the part
of an exiled prince pretty well."  

     "Yeah, right,"  Blair snorted through a laugh.  "Try the bastard son
of the king's disowned daughter.  Anyway, when Naomi made the ultimate
mistake--that's me--they didn't want their single, pregnant daughter
waddling on and off the estate at will anymore.  I guess they had a big
blow up and she stormed out of there and never went back.  It was mostly
my grandfather, I guess.  My grandmother was pretty upset, from what
Naomi said.  She gave her that watch to give to the baby someday so he or
she would have some little piece of family history.  It belonged to Naomi's
mother's father.  It's...all I have that's...important."

     "I can't take this, Blair,"  Jim said softly, trying to fight down the
emotion that was making his eyes water. 

     "No, I want you to have it.  Before us, it was the only thing I had
that symbolized any kind of family connection, history.  But now, there's
us--and I...I belong somewhere now, Jim.  I feel like I've got a home... 
This watch used to remind me that no matter how many times things
changed in my life, I had an origin--that some relative I never met loved
me enough to give it to me.  I don't need to look at that anymore to know I
belong to somebody.  But maybe if you look at it once in awhile, it'll
remind you that..."  Blair looked down nervously, completing the sentence
as if he suddenly felt he was assuming too much, "that everything I am
belongs to you."

     "Come 'ere,"  Jim whispered in a voice strained with tears, holding
his arms open for Blair, who came into them immediately.  "God, what a
treasure you are."

     "I'm sorry about the way I acted before,"  Blair said quietly.  "I'm
sorry I was so whiny and possessive.  I didn't mean to be."

     "Stop apologizing, baby.  You weren't wrong.  I was."  Jim stroked
Blair's back as he settled them more comfortably back into the cushions. 
"I was so damned angry at myself for...fucking things up for us for tonight,
for not having the balls to tell Simon we were involved, for making you
hide in a closet like you were some dirty secret...  While everybody else
was getting flowers and gifts and making plans, you were crying yourself
to sleep at night because I was treating you as badly as one of Naomi's
ill-tempered boyfriends."

     "You heard that, huh?"  Blair sounded embarrassed.  He wasn't a
person normally given to bouts of crying.  He had held up well through a
lot of bad times without losing his cool.  But Jim had found he had the
power to reduce his young lover to tears with the wrong harsh word. 
When Blair gave his heart, it was obviously a fragile one.  Jim suspected
his transient lifestyle had taught him not to give it easily.    

     "I always hear you, love.  I hear you breathe, I hear your heartbeat,
I hear you murmur in your sleep, I hear the sheets sliding over that
beautiful skin of yours...those are the most precious sounds on earth to
me.  So of course I could hear you cry."  Jim let the silence calm them
both for a few minutes.  "When you first kissed me...I had been unhappy
for so long at hiding how I felt about you, censoring my every move
toward you, trying not to touch you too much--that I just exploded when I
was pushed to the limits.  We were wrestling one minute and then you
kissed me, and my first impulse was that it was a stunt to throw me off so
you'd win.  I was so angry at that thought that I lashed out at you before I
even thought about it.  And the other night...when I started man-handling
you again, I wasn't mad at you.  I was mad at me.  And I guess I was mad
at you for not instantly forgiving me and finding a way to justify to me
that I wasn't wrong--you're so damned loyal and forgiving to me that I just
counted on you to lie there like a doormat and let me wipe my feet on you
and then thank me for it.  You stood up for *us*, you made me face what
a lousy double life I was leading...and it was a hard revelation."    

     "Tonight...it was more than I ever dreamed about...but, Jim, I
never would've expected youth announce it to the world."

     "No, you expected me to treat you like a dirty back street affair so
I could still play the role at the department.  You deserve better than that,
and I'm damn well going to give it to you.  You're the center of my life,
baby.  The other people are just going to have to fit in around you.  And
the ones who don't want to can fuck off."

     "Do you think...Jim, I really want you.  I want you...inside me." 
Blair moved away a little so he could face Jim.  "I want us to live that
fantasy.  Tonight."

     "Oh, God, me too."  He pulled Blair down for a deep kiss that left
them both breathless.  "But there's something I want you to tell me."

     "What?"

     "I want you to tell me about the person who abused you, Blair.  I
want to know who hurt you, who made you think it was acceptable for
someone to hit you, shake you...  I want you to tell me."

     "I...there isn't much to tell."  Blair shrugged and sat back on the
couch, separating himself a little from Jim.  "Naomi met this guy when I
was about eight.  He was a painter--and artist.  We moved into his
apartment.  It was pretty nice, and she was really happy with him.  He
drank a lot."

        "I can't believe she stayed with him."  Jim reached out and took
one of Blair's hands in both of his.  "If anybody ever hurt you, I'd kill them
with my bare hands."

     "Nah, you'd bust 'em for me."  Blair looked up and smiled, and so
did Jim.  "Anyhow, he'd get drunk sitting around all day trying to get
inspired, and Naomi worked at a boutique to help support us.  I'd come
home from school, and I'd be alone with him for a couple of hours.  I quit
trying to figure out why...I mean, he'd hit me for something I couldn't
figure out.  He'd yell at me for making noise and breaking his
concentration--shit, all he was doing was lying on his ass in the corner
with a bottle of Jack Daniels."

     "Naomi didn't know?"

     "The first couple times it happened, she asked questions.  He gave
me a black eye once and he split my lip another time--he really taught me
how to lie."  Blair shook his head.  "I got pretty fluid at it too.  He told me
I shouldn't make Naomi choose between me or him, because he'd win and
I'd get sent to a foster home.  I was only eight.  I believed him.  He got
smart enough to hit me where it didn't show."

      "How long did it go on, Chief?"  Jim kissed the hand he was
holding.  

     "Almost a year.  Sometimes, I think..." 

     "What?"

     "He was right--she chose him.  I mean, she accepted some pretty
wild stories about why I had bruises all the time.  I want to think she didn't
know...that she believed the stories."

     "Dammit," Jim growled, reaching out to stroke Blair's hair.  "Then
I hit you, and shook you...Oh, God, Blair, I'm so sorry."   

     "You didn't mean it, Jim.  It's just that..."  Blair bit down on his
lower lip, then continued. "It was...for just a minute...like before, w-with
him--he wasn't as big as you but I was only eight and I knew if he got mad
enough...just like...for just a second...I was afraid you were gonna hit me
again, and I...I know I wouldn't stand a chance trying to fight you."

     "Don't ever be afraid of me, baby.  I'll never hurt you that way
again.  I promise you.  I know what was wrong with me...why I reacted
that way.  It doesn't excuse it but maybe you'll believe me when I say that
you don't ever have to be afraid of me."

     "I'm not."  Blair smiled.

     "What ended things with...what's his name?"  Jim hoped to glean
the name and look the bastard up.  At best he could charge him with
felony child abuse.  At the least, he could give the guy a taste of going a
few rounds with someone bigger than himself.  //A taste of his own
medicine. //Blair must have picked up on his thought pattern.

     "He's already dead, Jim.  He blew his brains out about three years
after we left.  His name was Winston Patrick--classy name, huh?"  Blair
shrugged.  "Naomi moved on.  She met a new guy, she was sick of
supporting the starving artist.  Her next boyfriend was really kind of nice. 
They were only together a few months, but he liked kids, and he used to
take me places sometimes, just the two of us--I kinda played sometimes he
was my dad...it was sort of like what it would've been like to have a dad for
real."

     "She never knew about what Patrick did to you?"

     "Not in so many words, no.  I don't know if she ever suspected
anything or not."  Blair met Jim's concerned eyes.  "Why did you want to
talk about this right now--before...you know."

     "It's been bothering me ever since...that morning, after I...I hit you,
you were already to take the blame for it, and as soon as I let you off the
hook that I wasn't angry with you, you didn't hold anything against me.  I
wanted to know who taught you to accept being hurt like that."

     "That's in the past."

     "The beatings are but the look you get in your eyes whenever you
think you've ticked me off or disappointed me or messed up--it's this
mixture of fear and hurt and self-recrimination that just rips my guts out."    
     "It's hard to shake feeling like you're the reason for everybody's
troubles, you know?  I made noise or distracted Winston, so it was my
fault he couldn't paint.  I always felt it was my fault things didn't work out
between him and Naomi.  It was because of me my mother was estranged
from her parents, and I don't know exactly how to say this so you won't
think badly of Naomi, but...I've always felt like I was in her way.  When
she'd had enough of me in her hair, she left me with somebody and
disappeared for a year.  Jim, I'm not used to being...important to anybody. 
So when I screwed up before, I usually paid a big price for it--getting
tossed out of someplace, or left someplace, or...well, Winston was a whole
other issue."

     "You aren't on some kind of probation with me.  I love you, and if
you're willing, I want you around forever.  We're both going to screw up
now and then and hurt each other, but that's life.  I guess I didn't want to
make love to you until you realized that.  Until you realized that you were
my equal in this relationship.  I didn't want to take you while you were
lying there just trying to please me.  I wanted us to make love
together--with you taking as much as you got, and saying no if something
hurt or didn't feel right--not enduring it because you thought I wanted it."

     "You think that's what I would've done?"  Blair straightened a little
to have eye contact with Jim.

     "I don't know.  You spend a hell of a lot of time and effort trying to
please me...and I don't want that to put you at a disadvantage in bed.  And
I want you to be real clear about the fact that you're a beautiful, giving,
exceptional person that deserves to get back all the love and the
gentleness and the caring you give out.  You don't deserve to be hit or
shaken or yelled at or pushed aside or stood up or hurt in any way.  Got
that?"  Blair nodded mutely, not knowing exactly what to say in response
to all that.  "I know we'll have our fights, but I promise you that you will
never, ever, have to be physically afraid of me again."     

     "I believe you."  

     "And this watch?"  Jim held it up.  "This, next to you, is going to
be my number one treasure."   

     "I'm sorry about all the crap you're going to have to take at work
because of me."

     "What am I gonna do with you?"  Jim exclaimed in partially
feigned exasperation.  "Will you quit apologizing?"

     "I just...I know it's gonna be hard--"

     "And you're worth whatever it takes.  So shut up and kiss me."

************
Finis... :-)