Title:    ALL MY ROADS
Author/pseudonym: Candy Apple
Email address: blair_lady@yahoo.com
Rating: MAO
Pairings: J/B

Status: Complete
Date: 07-25-99
Archive: Yes
Archive author: Yes 
Archive email address: Yes
Series/Sequel: No
Category: First Times, Drama, Episode-Related (TS by BS) 

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended on the rights of any
party with ownership of "The Sentinel" title, stories or characters.

Notes: First the songs--"Anybody Listening?", the first song quoted,
was written by DeGarmo & Tate, and is featured on Queensryche's
"Empire" album.  "All My Roads" which appears in its entirety at the
end of the story was written by Good & Cotter, and appeared on Collin
Raye's album  "The Walls Came Down".

Thanks to my wonderful beta and buddy, Virginia Call.  Thanks also to
Elizabeth G. for a speedy reply to a technical question.  Thanks and
hugs to everybody who responded to my plea for a tape of TS by BS at
MediaWest. ;-)   

All towns in Maine are fictitious, with the exception, obviously, of
Bangor.  Names, businesses or towns with any similarity to anything
real are just coincidental. 

Summary: In the wake of the press conference, Jim and Blair reach a
new level in their relationship.  As Blair struggles to rebuild his
professional life, both men face a series of challenges and changes on
the road to their future together.

Warnings: m/m, angst, some violence, language...well, it *is* MAO,
right? 

And now, before the 01 post becomes longer than the story file... <G>


ALL MY ROADS 

by 

Candy Apple

********
//You and I
long to live like wind upon the water.
If we close our eyes,
we'll maybe realize
there's more to life than what we have known.
And I can't believe I've spent so long
living lies I knew were wrong inside,
I've just begun to see the light.

Long ago there was a dream,
had to make a choice or two.
Leaving all I loved behind,
for what nobody knew.
Stepped out on the stage, a life
under lights and judging eyes.
Now the applause has died and I 
can dream again...

Feel the breeze?
Time's so near you can almost taste the freedom, 
There's a warm wind from the south.
Hoist the sail and we'll be gone,
By morning this will all seem like a dream.//

********

     Jim laid down his newspaper and listened.  He could hear Blair
moving about in his room, shuffling papers and sliding boxes around,
poking through the remains of his academic life.  Jim tossed the paper
aside with an audible sigh and stared at the television he hadn't really
been watching all evening.  

     The sealed cartons Blair brought back from Rainier had lurked
in a neat stack in a corner of the loft's always-tidy living room since
Blair had hauled the items home.  That had been over three weeks ago. 
Now, with Blair's ties to the University cut, and his option to join the
PD yawning before him, Sandburg seemed to be stalling doing much of
anything.  He was still riding along with Jim, but dodging Simon as
much as possible, as the captain was becoming impatient for Blair
enroll in the necessary classes to earn the detective's shield he kept in a
desk drawer, waiting for Blair.

     For his part, Jim had felt he had no right to push and prod
Sandburg on this point.  Blair had gone through a life-altering
experience, had suffered unthinkable and undeserved humiliation in
front of his colleagues, his friends, his superiors at Rainier--the whole
country for that matter.  Jim had no desire to start playing hardball with
Blair now to push him into motion in signing up for weapons training. 
Some time ago, Blair had unhappily agreed to go to the firing range
with Jim to learn how to at least *fire* a gun safely, how to hold it, and
to practice a bit just to bring his skill level up to that which a
homeowner using one for defense of their property should have. Still,
that hardly made him a veteran handler of firearms.  He'd hated every
minute he'd been at the firing range with Jim.  He hadn't needed to say
a word; his rapid heart rate and increased body temperature had told
Jim all he needed to know.

     Then, of course, there was this odd silence between them. 
There was no distance, no animosity--just a...lack of something.  What
Jim realized, drawing in a slightly sharp breath as it dawned on him,
was that the silence was because Blair simply wasn't talking.  He no
longer pulled strange academic facts out of his hat at a moment's
notice, there were no stories of peoples in remote corners of the world
and their traditions, and there was no prattling on about what was
happening in Blair's classes--or what his students said, or some
grumble about educational bureaucracy.

     There was more movement from the bedroom.  Another carton
opened, more papers being shuffled, their lives ending with a
sickeningly audible slide into the large trash can Blair had taken into
his room with him.

     Tossing the newspaper aside, Jim rose and moved toward the
French doors, one of which was slightly ajar.  He paused as he heard a
sharp intake of breath, followed by a shaky exhalation.  And then more
paper going to the trash.  Swallowing, he tapped on the edge of the
open door, pushing it farther into Blair's room and poking his head in. 
The younger man was sitting on his bed, surrounded by the dwindling
fragments of his past life, another pile of papers bound for the
executioner clutched in his hands.  His hair hung around his face like a
veil, his head slightly lowered. //I'm going to miss all that hair,// Jim
thought, smiling a little sadly.  Then a thought hit him. //It's all a big
joke to the guys in the bullpen...hell, it was a joke to me.  Making Blair
cut his hair and be a cadet.  Dragging him off and shearing him like a
sheep, forcing him to surrender the last shred or two of his old identity. 
Shoving him into the mold until he fits it, whether the fit is right or not. 
God, Blair, what is this really doing to you?//

     Sandburg's hand came up and tucked the wayward hair behind
his ear as he looked up at Jim, his glasses in place.   //Darwin...my
nutty professor...how I love you...//  

     "What's up, Jim?"  The voice was a little husky, but not bad. 
Blair was putting on a good front.  A damn good front.

     "That's quite a spread you've got there.  It's getting late.  I
thought maybe you needed some help excavating your bed.  Early call
in the morning."

     "Yeah, I guess I should call it a night."  Blair sighed, tossing the
papers he held into the trash, unsorted.

     "All junk?"  Jim nodded toward the trash can as the papers hit
bottom, joining their doomed companions.

     "It all is, really."  Blair smiled sadly.  "Didn't realize how much
stuff I'd squirreled away in that office until I..."  the catch in Blair's
voice seemed to startled him, but he conquered it, "...until I tried to
clean it out.  The thing is, Maya talked me into filing cabinets, but she
never talked me into actually *filing* the contents, you know?  More
like toss 'em in and slam the drawer."  Blair chortled a little and
grabbed another chunk, sending them into the trash.

     "Maybe you should just...uh...pack this stuff up for now."

     "Why?  It's not serving any useful purpose, and it's been stacked
up in the corner in the living room since I hauled it all home."

     Jim moved across the room, motivated by the pain he could see
under all the carefully placed layers of casual indifference.  He sat in
the only clear spot, which was directly behind Blair as the other man
sat sideways on the bed, one leg up and one on the floor.  Moving
purely on instinct, he wound his arms around Blair from behind.

     "It's okay, Chief.  I know this part has to be hell."

     "I did the right thing, Jim.  I told you I was at peace with my
decision."  Blair didn't look back at him, and every muscle in the
smaller body seemed to be taut and on alert.

     "I don't know if...if I ever told you I was sorry.  For...coming
down so hard on you."

     "You were right, you know.  I never did figure out how to
protect you.  And putting your name on everything was a fucking stupid
thing to do.  There was just something...*wonderful* about using your
name.  About finally recognizing what you are.  Your gifts.  About
giving credit where credit is due.  And after we were friends, it was
pretty hard to keep calling you 'the subject'."

     "It was all so...sudden.  I felt like a deer you see in your
headlights right before you smash into it.  That moment where it
freezes with panic, locked in the lights..."  Jim didn't relent in his loose
hold on his friend.  "You want to talk about this stuff?  Any of it?"  Jim
didn't know what to say, how to draw Blair out of his shell where his
debunked academic career was concerned.

     "No--there's not too much to say.  I just need to get this junk
cleared out."  Blair swallowed, reaching to pat Jim's hand where it
rested atop the other one where the larger man's embrace met on Blair's
stomach.  He couldn't stop the single tear that leaked out, trickling
down his cheek until Jim caught it.

     "You don't deserve this, Blair.  You understand that, don't you?"

     "I left your name in there, and I didn't face the fact that it was a
doomed project before it all blew up in our faces."  Blair's hair fell
forward again as he shook his head.  This time, when he turned on the
bed and leaned his elbows on his knees, dislodging Jim's hold, he didn't
bother to push it behind his ear.  Instead, Jim did it for him, letting his
hand linger gently on the back of Blair's head.

     "If Naomi hadn't sent in your manuscript, none of this would
have happened...  Not this way, not now."

     "You didn't seem angry with her before.  I'm glad you weren't...I
just meant it seemed like you didn't hold it against her.  I know she was
just trying to help."

     "But I held it against *you*?"  Jim prodded, not realizing until
now that he'd been caressing the back of Blair's head ever so gently
while they talked.

     "It just...it hurt that you could think I...that I'd *ever*...*exploit*
you.  I lo--" There was an awkward pause.  "I wouldn't do that, Jim,"
Blair added.  Jim heard the aborted phrase, and wished desperately,
selfishly, that Blair would have blurted it out.  But maybe it was more
than the younger man felt able to reveal.  He'd done too much
emotional blood-letting as it was.

     "I know.  Come here." He slid an arm around Blair's shoulders,
and the younger man reluctantly shifted where he sat and accepted the
embrace Jim completed then with his other arm.  There was a shaky
breath against Jim's neck as Blair rested his head on a strong shoulder. 
"It's okay, Blair.  I know it hurts," Jim prodded gently, both saddened
and relieved to feel the first trembling of tears, and then to feel the
moisture as they fell harder.  "I'm the one who's sorry, buddy.  I've
acted like tossing you a badge and dragging you through the Academy
was going to make everything better.  Like putting a band-aid on a
multiple gunshot victim is going to make a difference."

     Blair didn't respond in words, but he let his pent up pain flow
out in tears, held in arms that were as remarkably gentle as they were
strong.  Jim sat there patiently, stroking Blair's hair, patting his back
lightly, offering quiet little words of comfort.

     "I'm sorry," Blair managed, trying to pull back.  He wasn't
released, and he slumped back against Jim's chest, not really
committed to the idea of leaving the warm confines of the embrace.

     "Chief, if this police option isn't right for you, I'll understand."

     "No, I want to be your partner."  Blair shook his head slightly. 
"That's...what I wanted most..."

     "But the thought of the Academy doesn't thrill you to the core,
huh?"  Jim smiled as he spoke, relishing the rare moment of physical
intimacy, Blair still held securely to his chest.

     "I can't ask Simon for special favors, man.  Fair is fair."

     "I'll take care of everything, Chief.  Don't worry about it
anymore, okay?"  Jim rested his head against Blair's, squeezing him
tightly.  "I can't change what you're going through with all this crap, but
there are a few things I think I can fix."

     "I'm really grateful to Simon...I know he's pulling strings for
me..."  Blair's voice was still ragged.

     "I know.  Just hang in there and let me talk to him tomorrow,
okay?"

     "Jim, if going through the Academy is the way I should do this,
I don't--"

     "Leave it to me.  If you want to follow through on getting that
detective shield, let me work out the details."  Jim rubbed Blair's back a
couple times, then pulled back and looked him in the eyes.  "Let's get
this stuff cleaned up so you can get some rest tonight, huh?"

     "Yeah, I feel really sleepy now."  Blair managed a half-smile. 
"Guess I needed to do that more than I thought," he added a little
awkwardly as Jim snagged a couple tissues off the nearby night stand
and handed them to him.

     "You were trying to put on a good show for me, Blair.  I want
you to know I appreciate that.  But drop the pretenses, okay?  You're
always chipping away at me not to shut you out.  Well, don't do it to me
either.  You're not kidding me that saving my ass didn't ruin *your* life
instead."

     "It didn't ruin my life.  It just...kicked it in the ass a little."  Blair
took a deep breath and looked down at the tissues in his hands.  "You
told me that I should go for the brass ring--you know, with Sid Graham
and the whole book deal."

     "I was angry--"

     "I know.  But I just wanted you to know that I took your
advice."

     "How do you figure that?"  Jim took the tissues out of Blair's
hands since he seemed to plan on just fidgeting with them and started
gently wiping at the moisture on Blair's face.

     "The book deal, the $3 million--that wasn't the brass ring." 
Blair smiled at Jim's confused expression.  "You were...and that made
the decision clear."

     "I'm not exactly a brass ring, Chief."  Jim chortled a little.  

     "You are to me," Blair insisted.  "And that's all that matters." 
Blair locked his eyes with Jim's for a long moment, before the older
man looked away, unable to think of the right words to answer such a
naked declaration.  As if what Blair had done wasn't, in itself, the only
declaration he could ever need.  

     "I'm going to take this stuff down and store it in the basement. 
We've got room down there, and you can sort it out when you feel like
it."   There were only two boxes left now, plus the trash container. 
"You sure that stuff's garbage?"

     "I'm sure," Blair responded, nodding as he stood up and joined
Jim in gathering the scattered papers, tossing them all into the trash.

     "Okay.  Why don't you bag that stuff while I take this stuff
downstairs, huh?  We can put the trash out in the morning."

     "Sure.  Thanks," Blair said quietly, and Jim smiled.

     "Anytime, Chief."

********

     Jim woke to the sound of the radio as it began playing to rouse
him from sleep for another day on the job.  He reached over and
clubbed at the appliance, secretly wishing to do it great bodily harm. 
Pulling himself up and sliding his feet into slippers, he donned his old
gray robe and headed downstairs for the shower.  

     Some part of his subconscious had registered that Blair was
also up and about, but he was a bit surprised to find that the bathroom
was already occupied.  The door, however, was slightly ajar, so he
didn't hesitate to poke his head in, fully expecting Blair was about to
brush his teeth or engage in some other mundane morning ritual.  His
question about how long Blair would be died on his lips when he saw
what his roommate was doing--or was about to do.

     Holding a large clump of those impossibly soft, dark curls in
one hand, scissors in the other, Blair was about to make the first chop. 
The sense memory of playing with all that hair in the bullpen when
he'd teased Blair about cutting it, the softness of it when he'd held Blair
the previous night, all flooded into Jim's brain like a tidal wave as he
bellowed out,

     "NO!"

     Blair jumped and the scissors clattered to the floor.

     "Man, don't *do* that," Sandburg protested, leaning on the sink
and looking at Jim's reflection as it joined his in the mirror.  Dressed in
his favorite plaid robe, riot of curls going every which way, Blair was
the vision Jim had seen every morning for the last three years.  The
vision he wanted to see every morning for the rest of his life...  Shaking
off that unbidden thought, Jim moved up behind his partner, stopping
to pick up the scissors on the way.

     "Do you want to cut it?"

     "Better me than some pissed off drill sergeant with a set of
clippers."  Blair held out his hand for the scissors.  "Look, Jim, if I'm
going to do this Academy thing, I've got to get off the pot before Simon
loses his patience and withdraws the offer."

     "You didn't answer me.  Do *you* want to cut your hair short?"

     "Of course not, but that's the rule, right?  Come on, Jim, I'm
running late already and I haven't done this in a *long* time."  Blair
held out his hand again.

     "Tomorrow.  Don't cut it until tomorrow, okay?"

     "I don't get it.  What difference does it make whether I do it
today or tomorrow?"

     "Maybe you won't have to."

     "Oh, yeah, right.  I'm sure Simon's going to write me a special
permission slip to leave my hair long.  Even if he did, that'd just make
me even *more* unpopular with the other cadets, if that's possible.  If
I'm going to Rome, I gotta start acting like a Roman.  Now hand 'em
over."

     "No.  I mean it, Chief.  Tomorrow.  Give it one more day."

     "Why?  What do you care, anyway?  You were the one making
the 'Blairskin rug' jokes.  What, now you're going to be upset if I cut it
off?"

     "Yeah, I am," Jim admitted quietly.

     "You're serious about this."

     "Very."

     "But why?"

     "It might not have to happen, and unless you've been wanting to
do it anyway, I'm just asking you to let it slide a little longer.  Okay?"

     "Jim, I don't want to put Simon on the spot--"

     "Trust me."

     "Jim--"

     "*Trust me*."

     "Okay, whatever."  Blair shrugged and turned back to the
mirror.  "If I'm not going to chop it all off, I better at least wash it.  You
want the shower first?  I'll start the coffee."  Blair yanked the hair back
and pulled it into a hair band as he passed Jim and went out to the
kitchen.

     "I won't be long," Jim responded, unnecessarily, because Blair
knew he'd only be a few minutes.  He looked down at the scissors in his
hand and absurdly worrying that Blair would sneak back into the
bathroom and use them off schedule, stuck them in the pocket of his
robe before taking it off to step into the shower.

     After breakfast, Blair darted into the bathroom to complete his
morning ablutions and then moved to his bedroom to get dressed.  Jim
cleaned up the breakfast dishes and went upstairs to put on his own
clothes for the day, rehearsing in his mind the plan he was going to lay
out for Simon, hopeful that his boss would go for it.  It made perfect
sense to Ellison, but then, he generally didn't see eye to eye with his
superiors when it came to logic.  Simon, however, was most always the
exception to that rule, and Jim felt hopeful that pattern would continue.

     "Jim, you ready?"  Blair called upstairs, grabbing his keys and
stuffing them in his pocket as he waited by the door for Jim.  

     "Coming, Chief."  Jim went downstairs and joined Blair,
grabbing his own keys and closing the door behind them as they headed
out for the truck.  

     Once they arrived at the station, Blair took up residence at Jim's
desk, starting on the report of their activities the previous day,
questioning the prime suspect in a recent homicide case.  Jim headed
for Simon's office, leaving Blair wishing that he were the one with
heightened senses, so he could be part of whatever plot Jim was
hatching.

     "'Morning, Jim.  Coffee?"  Simon greeted, his demeanor almost
cheerful.  

     "Smells like almonds."

     "Uhh," Simon checked the small can near the coffee machine. 
"Mocha Almond Swirl.  Sounds pretty good to me."

     "Sure.  Thanks," Jim responded, accepting the cup Simon
handed over, waiting while the captain poured some for himself.

     "Daryl just got a scholarship offer from UCLA, and he's
considering it," Simon announced happily, sitting in his desk chair as
Jim sat in a chair across from him.  "It's one of the applications
Sandburg told him to turn in."

     "I thought he wanted to go straight to the Academy?"

     "He still wants to be a cop, but for some odd reason, the idea of
four years living in California seems to be making the idea of getting a
degree in Criminal Justice a bit more interesting.  That, and the fact his
girlfriend just got accepted there."

     "Ah, all the right reasons," Jim joked, taking a sip of the
flavored coffee.

     "At this point, I don't care if he's going there so he can go to
Disneyland every weekend.  If he'll just *go* to college before jumping
into the Academy, I'll be happy.  If he has his degree, he'll have a lot
more doors open to him even in a PD--this one or elsewhere, where he
doesn't have connections."

     "That's great, Simon.  I know you weren't too thrilled with his
plan to skip finishing his education."  Jim paused.  "Actually, the
Academy is what I'm here to talk to you about."

     "When is Sandburg going to stop dragging his feet on this and
enroll?  Classes are starting soon."

     "I have a proposition."  Jim stood up and started pacing,
catching sight of Blair, hunched over the computer, long hair loose on
his shoulders, glasses in place.  "Blair's been through hell the last few
weeks, the way everything turned out."

     "No arguments there.  How's the kid handling it?"

     "Very well.  He's stronger than I ever would have guessed," Jim
said, more to himself than Simon.  Realizing he had lapsed into
thinking out loud and staring at Blair, he turned away from the office
window.  "I don't want to put him through anymore.  He doesn't deserve
it, sir."

     "Meaning what exactly?  You don't want him to be a cop now? 
If he doesn't follow that plan, there isn't much way I can justify him
hanging around here.  The commissioner nixed hiring him as a
consultant.  Said we needed a higher arrest rate before we deserved the
budget for our own personal 'consultant' with a decent salary."

     "I want him to be a cop.  And I want him to get the training he
needs to do it safely."

     "So what's your point?"

     "I don't want to put him through the experience of the
Academy."

     "It's part of the package, Jim."

     "Why?  So he can go in as Captain Banks' pet, the defrocked
doctoral candidate who faked his own research results?"

     "You can't protect him forever, Jim.  He's got to face the
consequences of that decision, even if he did make it for all the right
reasons."

     "What about the 30-day program?  You know, the one we offer
to veteran cops coming into the Cascade PD--"

     "Which assumes they have basic weapons, driving and
investigative skills already in place.  Jim, I realize that Sandburg is
smart, and that he's learned a lot from you.  But he has to be able to be
your *equal*, or I'm not putting him out on the streets with a weapon
and responsibility for the safety of our community."

     "Then let me teach him."

     "You have been."

     "No, I mean let me teach him the stuff he needs to know.  If he
can pass the testing, isn't that the big issue?"

     "We're already trying the commissioner's patience on this one. 
It was all I could do to come out of that meeting with *us* still on the
payroll, let alone Sandburg."

     "Does he know that Blair isn't a fraud?"  Jim asked point blank.

     "This never leaves this office."  Simon paused.  "He knows.  He
views it as a horrific disaster if anyone ever finds out, so he's left
everything as it is to cover our collective asses and save us ten years'
worth of paperwork, internal investigations, case reviews and appeals
from every perp-turned-jailhouse lawyer that you've put away in the
last three years.  Sandburg is getting in because it's *easier*--and we're
both still here because it's *easier*."

     "I'm only suggesting that we make this a little *easier* on
Sandburg.  I for one think he's suffered enough over this, and I don't
want to put him through more humiliation and ostracism than he's
already coping with from his former colleagues."

     "You're proposing that you train him, and he merely takes
tests?"

     "Yes."

     "Jim..."

     "Simon, this is a real simple solution here.  If the commissioner
has a problem with it, tell him it was my payoff for keeping my mouth
shut.  There's nothing stopping me from holding my own press
conference and giving Blair his credibility back."

     "That would be akin to suicide, and you know it, Jim.  Sandburg
knew it, and that's why he did what he did--to save your life."

     "I think this is a pretty small thing to do to return that favor. 
We know Blair'll be a hell of an addition to this department.  We're not
taking some half-wit off the street and donating a job to him.  We're
tapping into one of the sharpest minds I've ever had the pleasure to
work with.  We're not doing him a great favor by slapping a badge on
him.  Personally, I'd say he's doing us one by accepting it."

     "Look, you're preaching to the choir here.  I know Sandburg has
been good for this department, and that he's a big part of your arrest
record, but--"

     "But what, sir?  He's committed professional suicide for me,
and by association, for this department."

     "I don't think he was worrying about the department at the
time."  Simon shook his head and took another drink of his coffee.

     "Whatever his motivations were, if we ended up with him
sticking to his story, it would be a disaster.  I'm just asking that we treat
him with some respect, and that we cut him some slack.  He's been
through enough already."

     "In all the years I've known you, I don't think I've ever heard you
plead your case on anything for this long--or this passionately."

     "I feel that strongly about it, sir," Jim responded firmly.

     "All right, here's the deal.  You meet with Walt Raymond--he's
the best Academy instructor we've got right now.  Set up a framework
of what Sandburg needs to learn, and you try it your way.  If he passes
the necessary testing, he's in."

     "Thank you, sir."  Jim moved toward the door with a slight
smile on his face.

     "Does he know about this?"

     "Not at all.  He was prepared to sign up for the Academy today. 
I just...I can't sit back and watch him run that gauntlet."

     "We all did it, Jim.  We all survived."

     "That's very true, sir, but we didn't go into it with the same
strikes against us that Blair has, and we hadn't been functioning as cops
for three years."

     "Go tell the kid what's going on.  I'll let Raymond know you'll
be in touch."

     "Thanks, Simon."  Jim paused, his hand on the doorknob.  "This
means a lot to me."

     "I can see that."  Simon nodded, waving Jim away as the other
man exited the office, closing the door behind him.  He cross the room
to where Blair sat, typing.

     "Hey, Chief.  Got some news for you."

     "What?"  Blair looked up from the screen, pulling off his
glasses.  His eyes still looked a bit tired from a late night and the crying
jag that had made them sore and puffy the night before.

     "You won't be attending the Academy."

     "I won't?"

     "No, but you'll have to take private training from a veteran cop
and then pass some necessary tests--weapons, driving, procedural
stuff."  Jim sat on the edge of the desk and leaned closer, lowering his
voice confidentially.  "I hear the guy they're setting you up with is a
real hard-ass."

     "Oh, great."  Blair slumped back in his chair.  "I'd've been better
off at the Academy."

     "Possibly.  But at least I won't make you cut your hair, Darwin," 
Jim responded, tugging on one of the long strands.

     "You won't...wait a minute.  It's YOU?"  Blair asked, his eyes
bulging.

     "If that's acceptable to you, Chief," Jim responded, smiling.

     "You're going to teach me instead of the Academy?"

     "That's the plan, if you think you're man enough to measure up
to my standards, that is."

     "Oh, brother," Blair rolled his eyes.

     "Watch it, Sandburg.  You mouth off to me again, and you'll
drop and give me twenty."  Jim ruffled Blair's hair playfully, standing
up and pushing the other man, in the desk chair, out of the way so he
could sit in front of his computer.

     "Up yours, Ellison," Blair shot back in a whisper.

     "Problem student.  I should've seen that coming a mile away." 
Jim couldn't suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth as
he saved Blair's work on the report and logged into his own e-mail
account.

     "Jim?"  Blair was silent until Jim turned away from the screen
to look at him.  "Thanks," he said quietly, sincere gratitude shining in
his eyes.

     "Thank *you*," Jim responded softly, knowing Blair would
understand what he meant, and then turned back to his work on the
computer.

********

     Headphones in place, Jim standing off to the side watching,
Blair raised the gun and aimed at the paper target, remembering all of
his partner's instructions to the letter.   Feeling his stomach clench as he
removed the safety and began to squeeze the trigger, the cold fingers of
doubt tickled his spine as he wondered if he could ever aim at a human
this way.

     He fired.  Just once.  Then he stood there, staring at the hole in
the paper man's hip.  He still stood there, frozen in place, but not
shooting.  He felt one side of the headphones pulled away from his ear.

     "You were going to fire a full round, remember, Chief?"  Jim
prodded.

     "Oh, yeah, right.  I guess that shot would've dropped him, huh?" 
Blair asked hopefully.

     "Possibly," Jim allowed, "but both arms would be functional,
and right now he might be firing back and blowing your brains out.  Or
mine.  That's why when you make the commitment to shoot at all, it
has to be important enough to shoot to kill.  You know that."

     "But if I can shoot and drop the guy--"

     "Chief, listen to me."  Jim pulled the headphones off his partner
and pushed gently on the outstretched arms until they gave up their aim
and the weapon hung limply from Blair's hand, at his side.  "I didn't
write these rules, but they're good ones.  We don't shoot people for
running away--the only exception would be in a case of stopping
someone who is a menace to society.  For example, shooting Lash for
fleeing would be valid because of the danger he posed.  But the only
time you should be shooting is if the perp is posing a threat to life and
safety of you, your partner, or innocent bystanders."

     "So shooting someone to incapacitate them isn't good enough?"

     "Let's say this paper guy over here is an armed robber.  He's just
come bursting out the door of the convenience store with a sawed off
shotgun.  We're both there, along with a few innocent customers filling
up their cars at the gas pumps in front of the store.  You yell 'Police,
Freeze!' and he aims at you with the intention of killing you.  You
respond with this hip shot here," Jim motioned over his shoulder with
his thumb.  "As he's falling, he pulls the trigger, blowing a hole in your
middle the size of a softball, before he ever hits the ground.  That's why
you shoot to kill, Chief.  Because you don't always get a second chance. 
And we aim at the torso because it's a bigger target than the head, and
we have less chance of missing."

     "So it's never acceptable to shoot someone to injure them?"

     "If you're shooting at all, you should mean it.  If shooting to kill
isn't justified, don't shoot at all."  Jim paused, then motioned to Blair to
put his headphones back in place.  This was the point where he had to
play drill sergeant, not best buddy, and push Blair to think like a cop
and acquire the necessary skill to back it up.  "Aim for the heart," Jim
said loudly enough for Blair to hear him through the headphones, the
larger man's voice cold and commanding.

     Blair raised the gun again, swallowed hard, and concentrated on
his aim.  He squeezed the trigger, sending the bullet flying toward the
paper victim.   It cut right through the center of the form's chest.  Blair
fired off the rest of the round, with some variation.  Most of them
landed in the upper central portion of the body.   He pulled off the
headphones and looked up at Jim.  

     "Nice shooting, Chief."  Jim pressed the button to bring the
form up where they could get a closer look.  "That first shot was the
best," Jim added, as Blair looked at the ruined paper form with some
trace of dismay.

     "So now he'd be dead."

     "Most likely."  Jim obtained a fresh target.  "Okay.  Let's see if
that was just beginner's luck or if you really can aim that thing when
you put your mind to it."  Jim waited as Blair went to put on his
headphones.  "Hang on, buddy.  You going to shoot this guy with no
bullets?"

     "Oh, right."  Blair paused, popping out the empty clip and
replacing it with a new one, just as Jim had taught him the night
before.  

     When he fired the next time, the shots were a bit more accurate
than the first round.

     "Nice going," Jim took down the second paper target and
looked it over.  "You've got one armpit shot over here.  Try it again,
and try to keep your aim steady and consistent."  Jim looked at his
watch.  "Damn.  I need to go up and meet with Simon and the guy from
that right to life group about coordinating security for that rally next
week."

     "Shouldn't I be in on that?"

     "I can fill you in.  I want you to stay here and work on your
shooting.  Save the targets and number them so I can see how you did,
okay?"

     "Yeah, sure."  Blair nodded, dispensing with the empty clip and
replacing it a bit more deftly than he had the first time.

     "Chief?"

     "Yeah?"

     "I know this takes some getting used to.  But you're doing fine." 
Jim patted the other man's shoulder as he walked away.

     Blair looked back at the weapon in his hands and at the used
targets piled up from his shooting so far.  He definitely had the skill.
Sure, he needed practice to hone it, but he seemed to have a pretty
good aim for a beginner.  Jim had been concerned way back when he
first taught him how to shoot, since Blair didn't seem to be able to hit
the broad side of a barn.  The truth had been that he didn't wish to learn
how to kill someone.  If he could aim and fire, that was all he wanted
to know.  And if he could maim someone in self-defense, that was just
fine with him.  Killing them was another story.

     Now that he would be an armed cop, a full, real partner, he
couldn't hide behind Jim anymore.  He couldn't wait in the truck while
Jim dealt with the bad guys, though there was a part of Blair that
suspected once he'd gone through the motions of this training, Jim
would probably have major problems not shoving Blair behind him at
the first sign of danger.  They both had adjustments to make.

     On that thought, Blair donned the headphones again and aimed
at the new target.  Firing off another round, he found his accuracy
improving just a bit.  

     "It's just paper, Sandburg," he said to himself, taking a deep
breath, and reloading. //And what're you going to do someday when it
isn't?// the voice in his head prodded.  He let out a long breath and
slumped against the wall a moment, then examined the gun he was
holding.  

     "I'm going to do what I have to do," he said quietly,
straightening his stance and taking aim again, this time firing the shots
in rapid succession, placing them more effectively than ever before. 
As he pulled off his headphones, he was startled by Jim's voice.

     "Practice makes perfect, huh, Chief?"  Jim was smiling proudly
as he examined this last target.  "Every shot inside the form, fairly well
clustered...you've got a hell of an aim."

     "Think we could knock off on this for today?"  Blair asked,
trying to sound casual.

     "Sure.  About time to grab lunch anyway.  After work, we'll
head over to the Academy gym and try out the obstacle course stuff, to
see what we need to work on there."

     "You think I'll be ready for those testing dates in July?"  Blair
asked as they walked out into the crisp March air.  

     "You're grinding out the bookworm part of this process pretty
fast, so the written exam shouldn't be any hassle.  We've got a good
start on the firearms issue, and you're in good shape--we just need to
make sure you can get through the obstacle course activities smoothly.
We haven't tackled emergency driving yet, but you've done quite a bit
of that on the job successfully, so I can't see that as being any big hang
up.  I think we can have you ready in four months."

     "Jim...I really appreciate you doing all this.  I know it's got to be
a major pain in the ass trying to tutor me in all this stuff."

     "You're a quick study," Jim responded with a slight smile as
they got into the truck.  

     "When you were first...when you started...shooting.  Did
it...bother you at all?"

     "Bother me?  You mean the firing range stuff?"

     "Yeah."

     "Not really."  Jim started up the truck and after leaving the
parking spot, drove toward the exit of the police garage.  "First time I
shot a guy, that bothered me.  But that was in the military, so I didn't
have to deal with that as a cop."

     "Was it part of Covert Ops?"

     "You know I can't answer that one, Chief."  Jim let the silence
hang a few minutes.  "It was part of my time in Special Forces.  An
undercover assignment.  I'd never had to actually shoot someone
before.  It's a very...significant experience."

     "How did you deal with it?"

     "It was him or me.  Survival of the fittest, I guess.  It was
necessary to save my own life.  Once I really got that through my head,
I got past it."

     "Does it still bother you at all?  Not necessarily that time, but
other times you've had to shoot to kill?"

     "When it stops bothering you, there's something wrong with
you.  I never like pulling the trigger on someone.  I never feel good
about it afterwards...well, almost never."

     "There's an exception?"  Blair asked, frowning a little.

     "Lash."

     "Understandable."  Blair shook his head, shuddering a bit at the
memory.  "He was one sick puppy."

     "There's no remorse in killing someone who tortures someone
you l--your partner."  Jim shook his head.  "Chief, you've got strong
ethics and good judgement.  If you ever have to kill someone in the line
of duty, it will be justified, and it will be necessary--and when the
smoke clears, that's the thing that you'll hold onto, and you'll move on."

     "I just hope I've got the guts to do it if I have to," Blair said
quietly, letting his real fear hang out there for just a moment.  He didn't
know how he expected Jim to reassure him on that point, but he hoped
for something.

     "You're my partner, Chief.  I trusted you for three years without
a gun to be my back up, and I'll trust you when you've got one.  I know
you'll do what you need to do.  You've got more guts than you think."

     "Thanks," Blair responded, smiling a little.  "It's a big
adjustment."

     "I know.  You're doing great, Chief."  Jim pulled into the
parking lot of Coney World.  "I just have to get you to start *eating*
like a cop, and we'll be all set."

********

     Jim found himself sitting bolt upright in bed, heart pounding,
all senses on full alert.  What had brought him to this state in the
middle of the night was still unclear, until he heard movement from
downstairs.   Still uncertain what the exact nature of the noise had
been, he picked up his gun and made his way stealthily down the steps
to the first floor.  The only heartbeat he heard was Blair's, and it was
pounding at half again its normal rate.

     "Chief?"  Jim relaxed his hold on the weapon and approached
Blair's room, pushing one of the French doors open a bit.  Blair was
sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat, his eyes still a bit wild.  "Blair? 
What's wrong?"

     "Sorry I woke you.  Guess I had one too many coney dogs at
lunch--you know, they come back to haunt you at night, man."  Blair
tried a smile that failed to hold any trace of humor

     "So you were having nightmares about giant hot dogs?  That
sounds Freudian."  Jim walked into the room and sat on the foot of the
bed facing his partner.  "You want to try the truth this time?"

     "It was just a bad dream, Jim.  I'll be okay."

     "This has something to do with what we worked on today."

     "Hey, I didn't think the obstacle course experiment went *too*
badly.  I mean, I have some work to do, but--"

     "The target practice, Darwin."  Jim rested a hand on Blair's
ankle.  "I know that has you spooked.  You want to talk about it?"

     "Remember when you...you used that example about the guy
coming out of the convenience store?"

     "Yeah," Jim responded, nodding.

     "I saw the whole thing--just like you described.  The guy came
out, and he aimed, and I aimed...and I couldn't do it."  

     "That's probably more of a fear-based nightmare than some
premonition of how you really would react, Chief."

     "He shot you."

     "Look, Blair, we're both fine.  It was just a dream.  We spent a
hell of a long time concentrating on shooting to kill.  It's new to you."

     "He shot you because I couldn't shoot him," Blair retorted, a
little crack in his voice.  "I saw him shoot, and it hit you, and there was
blood everywhere, and then he started firing at civilians, and I just kept
standing there with my gun aimed and not firing and it was turning into
this *bloodbath* and I couldn't make myself stop it!"  Blair shot out,
barely sparing a moment to breathe.

     "Hey, Chief, calm down.  It was a nightmare."  Jim rubbed the
ankle where his hand rested.  "Look, I'll make you some tea--maybe
that'll relax you."

     "Jim, I can't do this," Blair said, his voice still shaking.  "I've
tried.  I tried so hard, but I can't do this.  I can't shoot to kill."

     "It was a bad dream, Blair.  I know it was an ugly one, but it
was just a nightmare.  You can't let something like that steer you in the
wrong direction.  Nightmares are surreal.  If you were really in that
situation, you know damn well you'd have acted to save my life or the
lives of innocent people at the scene.  Even now, I know you--you'd do
*something*."

     "Sure, I'd do *something*.  But dreams have meanings."

     "And this one is about your worst fears right now.  Come on." 
Jim got up off the bed and held out a hand to Blair, pulling him up and
then steering him with a hand on the shoulder, out to the kitchen.  "Sit." 
Jim went to the cupboard and found the tea, then put the water on to
boil.  

     "What if I can't do it?"  Blair asked, the lingering stress of the
nightmare still in his voice.

     "If you were really in that situation, Chief, don't you think you'd
be motivated enough to do something?  All I'm saying here is that
you're going by a dream, which is always an unreliable source.  You
could have just lived what you fear most with this dream.  It doesn't
mean it's going to happen."  Jim poured the water into the cup, and then
took it to Blair.  "Drink that and try to calm down, huh?"

     "Thanks."  Blair took a couple sips.  "You didn't answer my
question.  What if I can't do it?  What if I can't be a cop, Jim?"

     "First of all, I want you to be damn sure about this."

     "Guess Coney World could always use an A.B.D. for night
manager."  Blair took another drink of his tea.

     "You're not going to work in Coney World, Sandburg," Jim
retorted, laughing a little and shaking his head.

     "What am I gonna do then?  Because I gotta tell you, Jim, I
don't think I can shoot to kill.  Not dependably."

     "Here's what I want you to do for me, okay?"  Jim waited until
Blair nodded.  "Keep working on studying for the written test.  We'll let
the firearms thing slide for a few days.  Concentrate on the gym stuff. 
When you've had time to step back from it, we'll talk about it again."

     "If I can't do it--"

     "If you can't do it, we'll just have to figure something else out."

     "Like what?"

     "I haven't gotten that far myself, Chief."  Jim let out a long sigh
and stared straight ahead.  "If this doesn't work for you, we'll do what
we have to do to get by.  We'll work it out.  Don't worry about it."

     "I *am* worried about it, man.  And I can't get that picture out
of my mind of that guy firing and you falling and I just *stood* there." 
Blair's hand shook enough to splash some of the tea on the table as he
tried to raise the cup.  Jim reached over and covered the shaking hand,
pushing it back down.  

     "Blair.  It's going to be okay.  Everything's going to work out.  I
promise you that."

     "But if I can't be a cop--"

     "You won't be a cop then."  Jim looked at his troubled partner
sympathetically.  "You're really shaken up about this."

     "I think if you hadn't made me the tea, I'd have probably lost my
dinner in the john.  I still might," Blair added, looking a little green
around the edges.  

     "Would a back rub help?"

     "Sure.  You know a good masseuse who's open 24 hours?"

     "As a matter of fact, I do.  Come with me."  Jim motioned to
Blair to follow him toward the stairs.  "Bring your tea."  

     The two men trekked up the stairs to the loft bedroom, where
Jim took the cup out of Blair's hands and set it on the night stand.  

     "Get in, on your stomach."

     "What?"  Blair looked at Jim, bug-eyed.

     "Stretch out on your belly so I can rub your back, dummy.  But
do it on that side over there, because this is my side.  And take off your
t-shirt first."

     "Jim--"

     "The tea helped, didn't it?"

     "Yeah, but--"

     "So will this.  Now get in and move over on that side."

     Blair finally followed directions, tossing his t-shirt aside and
sliding into the cool sheets, moving over to the side of the bed Jim
didn't normally occupy.  He settled on his stomach and waited.  Jim got
in his side of the bed, and fumbled around in the night stand drawer for
something.  

     "What's goin' on?"  Blair asked, trying to sound casual.

     "Just need a little lotion."  Jim warmed some in his hands and
then began, ever so gently, to work on the knots in Blair's shoulders. 
"Relax for me, Chief.  I'm not going to bite you."

     "I don't know what to do, Jim.  If I can't do this--"

     "Blair, look at me."  Jim stopped rubbing until Blair looked
over his shoulder at his partner.  "We're in this together.  We'll figure
this thing out.  If you can't do it...we'll come up with plan B, okay?"

     "Okay."  Blair let his eyes drift shut, and Jim resumed the back
rub.  "Sometimes it's just...scary.  It seems like my whole life is
changing, and I don't have any control over it.  It's just...there are some
things I don't want to change...and..."

     "Hey, easy, there, Chief.  Relax.  Put the nightmare out of your
mind.  Everything's going to be okay.  I promise you that.  I know this
is hard, Blair.  I can't even imagine..."  Jim's hands stilled a moment,
then resumed their gentle rubbing motion.  "We're a team--a package
deal.  We'll figure something out that works.  Now try to get some rest,
pal."  

     Jim had no clue how he'd make everything all right, but after
what Blair had done for him, he felt fiercely protective of his partner. 
If this was the wrong road for Blair, Jim would have to travel the road
his partner *could* take.  As he gently rubbed the tense muscles, and
heard Blair's breathing slow and calm on the edge of sleep, Jim
realized, not for the first time, that this man relaxing beneath his hands
was the most important thing on earth to him.  Just as Blair had walked
away from everything but Jim, Jim realized that, in his heart, he stood
ready to take that same leap for Blair.   Whatever path they ended up
taking, they would take it together.

     "Chief?"  Jim probed softly.  There was no response but even
breathing.  Jim wiped his hands on the fabric of his boxers and
carefully slid down into the bed, turning on his side so he could watch
Blair sleep.

********

     Blair stirred and opened his eyes.  For just a moment, he felt
completely disoriented.  He wasn't in his room, and he wasn't alone. 
Suddenly, he realized where he was and why, and turned to look at his
bed partner.  Jim was sprawled on his back, one arm over his head on
his pillow, dead to the world.  Blair was still on his stomach, having
dropped into a dead sleep while Jim was rubbing his back.

     The memory of Jim's warm hands gently soothing the tense
muscles in his back, the tenderness in the other man's voice as he'd
offered words of comfort, the sense of peace that being in his bed had
given Blair swept over him.  He pushed up on both elbows and looked
over at Jim.  This was what he would like to do for the rest of his
natural life--wake up next to Jim.

     As if summoned by Blair's thoughts, Jim's eyes opened.

     "Morning, Chief."  He smiled slightly.  "What time is it?"

     "Early.  Before six, I think--the alarm didn't go off yet."

     "Oh."  Jim looked at the clock, which was just out of Blair's line
of vision.  "Feeling okay this morning?"  

     "Yeah."  Blair nodded and looked away, back at his pillow. 
"Thanks...for everything last night."

     "Just call me Magic Fingers," Jim quipped, reaching over and
lightly slapping Blair's back as he sat up.  

     "I meant...for everything.  Last night...was a real bad night for
me."

     "I know that, Chief.  I've been thinking about that."  Jim brought
his knees up and rested his arms there a moment.  "I think we need to
look at some other options."

     "Like what?"

     "Well, if this cop thing doesn't pan out, we need to look into
some other options."

     "We?"

     "This affects both of us."

     "Well, yeah, I know.  But you've got a job, and things are going
okay for you."  Blair's statement was matter-of-fact.  He was glad Jim's
world was intact, more or less, and there was no resentment in his
words.

     "No, they're not.  Because everything sucks for you right now."

     "I'll get over it."  Blair finally turned over and sat up, joining
Jim in a somewhat pensive position.  "I really want to make a go of
this, but you know, it scares me that I'm gonna hesitate that split
second..."  Blair shrugged.

     "Then it's smart to think about it now."  Jim sighed.  "Maybe I
ought to put this to you another way.  Do you *want* to be in this thing
together?  I mean, would it be easier for you to...you know...find
something somewhere else on your own?"
     
     "I don't want to leave," Blair blurted out, instantly sorry for it,
wondering if this had been Jim's feeble attempt to shake him once and
for all.  "I mean, I'm not in a hurry to do something on my own, but if I
can't be a cop, and they won't let me stay on just observing...and the U
isn't an option anymore...I guess I just have to go out job hunting."

     "Might be a good idea to wait until the hype dies down a bit for
that."

     "Yeah."  Blair snorted.  "I can probably collect Social Security
by then."

     "It'll die down faster than that, Darwin."  Jim slid his arm
around Blair's shoulders. //His bare arm around my bare shoulders
while we're both in his bed...// Blair thought, leaning into his partner's
warmth. //God, I just wanna crawl into your skin with you and forget
all this shit for a while...//

     And then Jim was right there, his nose right next to Blair's,
another large arm coming around front for a landing, pulling Blair into
a tight embrace, dropping them both back on the mattress.  In a
heartbeat, soft lips were against Blair's, probing, nibbling, finally
parting as Blair's did, tongues touching hesitantly as the kiss deepened.  

     Blair's arms slid around his partner, hanging on as if Jim were a
human life preserver, hungrily taking every taste of the beloved mouth
he could get until Jim pulled back, breathing heavily.

     "Love you, baby," Jim let the endearment slip out with the
words, leaning back in to kiss Blair's nose, cheeks, eyelids and then his
lips again.  "I want to fix this for you.  I hate how this hurt you."

     "Jim...do you mean...*love love*?"  Blair was still staring at
Jim, wide-eyed, heart pounding.

     "Yeah, *love love*."  Jim smiled at the phrase, then kissed Blair
again.  "What do you say, Chief?"

     "What took you so long?"  Blair snagged Jim by the neck and
pulled him down into a fiery kiss, putting all his heart and soul into it,
into showing Jim just how right this could be.

     "I wasn't sure," Jim admitted, pulling back.  "But what you did
for me...Chief...nobody's ever loved me that way."

     "Please, tell me this isn't gratitude," Blair said, his voice steady
but strained as his eyes strayed away from Jim's.

     "Oh, there's gratitude.  But wanting to make love to you has
nothing to do with being grateful."

     "Make l-- How long?"

     "Oh, a while."  Jim started nibbling at Blair's earlobe.

     "How long?"

     "When we came back from Peru, all right?"  Jim responded, a
bit exasperated at Blair's persistence.  He stroked Blair's cheek lightly. 
"Even before you told me you weren't leaving.  I just wanted one time
between us, before you left..."  Jim shook his head.  "Truthfully, when
you stayed, I...I lost my nerve."  He smiled slightly, and Blair finally
chuckled.

     "Talk about irony, man.  I stay here because I can't stand to
leave you, and you don't make love to me because I stay."

     "I thought maybe if we did it before you left...there was a
chance you might come back someday."

     "You didn't think I'd ever come back?"

     "Why would you?"

     "Maybe because I loved you then almost as much as I do now."

     "I didn't know.  When you stayed, I knew we were friends, that
we were going to be friends for a long time...but I...I didn't have the
courage to...tell you..."

     "I think I knew I was in love with you when you looked back at
me--you were taking those arrows with you and leaving the village? 
And you said 'Chief--I'm glad you came'.  And something just clicked
inside...I knew I had to be by your side...that I'd always be there."

     "And look what it cost you," Jim responded, a pained look on
his face as he lifted a couple stray curls away from Blair's face.

     "Yeah, but look what I gained," Blair retorted, laying a gentle
hand over Jim's heart.  

     "I'm so sorry for how I treated you...about the whole mess with
the book offer..."  Jim shook his head, finally letting himself relax on
the bed, pulling Blair into his arms.  

     "You didn't trust me to turn it down, did you?"

     "I already cost you Borneo--and God knows where that could
have led for you...  And the kind of money Sid Graham was throwing
around, Nobel Prize nominations..."  Jim shook his head.  "What could
I offer you that compared to that?"

     "You can't put a price on something like this, man."  Blair
pulled back enough to look into Jim's eyes.  "On love, on friendship...
no book deal is worth that much.  I never wanted any of that.  Oh, sure,
I did at the outset.  When we first got together, I thought about what it
would be like if all the stuff that just happened, happened.  But they
were fantasies.  Stupid, little-kid fantasies of getting rich and famous. 
Not realistic visions of the future.  I never stopped to think, in the
middle of those fantasies, what it would be like for my subject.  The
*downside*."  Blair sighed.  "And after a while, the fame and fortune
became a non-issue, and all I wanted to do was finish my dissertation
and get those three letters after my name so we could get on with our
lives.  I just hadn't figured out the mechanics yet."

     "Our lives?"

     "Yeah.  Our lives, Jim.  Our *life*.  Us.  Together.  I had some
different ideas of how it would go down--I figured I'd get my doctorate,
maybe land some sort of job that was at least commuting distance.  I
hoped that would still give me some time to work with you...that you
wouldn't want me to move out as soon as I got my degree."

     "I couldn't envision...*this* being any substitute for millions of
dollars and a Nobel Prize."

     "Three million dollars isn't going to hold you in its arms or rub
your back when you're hurting.  It's not going to cook with you and go
to ball games with you, and a Nobel Prize doesn't go camping and
fishing and out for greasy take-outs.  And none of it's going to smile
like you, or laugh like you do, or make me feel the way you do.  I love
you, Jim.  There's no price tag on that."

     "Oh, there is.  And you paid it, Chief."

     "Then I got a bargain."  Blair smiled, running a finger over Jim's
now-tense lips, part of his worried expression.  "The adjustment is just
hard, and I've got some changes to deal with.  But I don't regret it.  Not
for a minute.  I regret that there ever *had* to be a choice, but since
there was, I don't regret the one I made."

     "I won't let you down, baby.  I promise.  I'll figure something
out."

     "You love me.  That's all I wanted, Jim--that's all I really
wanted for a long time."

     "You've done this before, right?"

     "What?"

     "Gotten together...with another guy?"  Jim probed carefully.

     "I've checked out the action, but I never did anything about it
with another guy, no."  Blair raised an eyebrow, returning the question
silently.

     "Me either.  I've checked out your action, but that's about it."

     "We're gonna be late, Jim," Blair said, catching a glimpse of the
clock.

     "I'm running a fever, I think."  Jim kissed Blair's earlobe, then
nipped at it playfully.

     "You wanna play hooky?"  Blair asked, delighted at the thought.

     "Yeah.  Call Simon and tell him I'm feelin' poorly."  Jim
reached over to the nightstand and handed Blair the cordless phone.

     "Have you ever played hooky in your life?"

     "Once.  When I was thirteen.  Luckily, only Sally found out, and
she covered for me because my dad would have killed me."

     "Okay.  What's wrong with you?"  Blair asked as he dialed the
number.

     "I'm lovesick and sexually frustrated."  Jim started kissing and
nibbling his way down Blair's neck, bringing a strangled giggle out of
his new lover.

     "Captain Banks, please.  It's Blair Sandburg."  Blair waited
while he was transferred.  "Jim, I swear to God, if you don't stop--Simon!"  
Blair rolled his eyes as Jim pulled back long enough to watch
him make the call.  "Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but Jim's
really under the weather this morning.  I think it's that stomach thing
that's going around."  Just as he said that, nimble fingers started
tickling Blair's stomach, and he caught his laughter with a sick,
choking noise.  "No, I'm not feeling so great either."  Blair shot Jim a
homicidal admonishing glare.  Undaunted, the other man started
kissing and licking his way to a pert little nipple, then started flicking
at it with his tongue.  "Ooh..."  Blair groaned.  "Yeah, more cramps. 
Sorry Simon, I gotta go now....  Uh huh.  Thanks, I hope so too."  Blair
broke the connection and handed the phone back to Jim.  "Paybacks are
hell, man."

     "So start payin' me back, baby."  Jim gently used his advantage
of size and leverage to press Blair into the mattress with his body,
tangling both hands in the mass of curls on the pillow that was only
partially under Blair's head.  Thinking that must be uncomfortable, Jim
slid a hand under the back of Blair's neck and pulled the pillow
forward, then released the precious head to rest on it.  He was rewarded
with a radiant smile.

     "I love you," Blair said softly, visibly moved by the small act of
concern for his comfort.

     "Ditto, Chief."  Jim covered Blair's mouth with his own, and the
two men drifted into long minutes of kissing and exploring each other's
mouths, morning-hard cocks taking definite interest in each other
through the thin layers of fabric separating them.  

     "We've got some action goin' on down South, man.  Think we
could do something about that?"  Blair teased, hooking his thumbs in
the waistband of Jim's boxers.

     "Anything special in mind?"  Jim got a hold of the elastic of
Blair's underwear and tugged a little.  

     Without further discussion, the two of them went through a
strange ritual of writhing, twisting, lifting and kicking that ended with
both pairs of boxers in a clump somewhere under the sheets near the
foot of the bed.  Finally skin on skin from head to toe, they began
rocking together, enjoying the intense friction between them.  Jim
pulled the sheet up over their heads, bringing a laugh out of Blair as
they playfully wrestled among the rumpled bedclothes.

     Awkward kisses jarred by their thrusting blended with licks and
nibbles and tastes of any flesh either man could reach without breaking
the contact of their groins.  Blair stiffened and came first, the
lubrication from his orgasm spurring Jim on to his own, letting himself
become intoxicated with the stifling, steamy scent of their sweat and
sex, sealed in under the cover of the sheet.

     As they lay there recovering, despite the fact Blair had hollered
"uncle" and poked his head out of the bedding to get some fresh air,
Jim buried his nose between Blair's neck and shoulder, inhaling the
rich scent of sex-warmed Blair.  He moved his face up, stroking it
against Blair's, settling his sensitive nose into the mass of curls.

     "You really didn't want me to cut my hair that
morning...because of this?"  Blair asked softly, his hands sliding
tenderly into Jim's hair, encouraging the larger man's face up so they
could have eye contact.

     "I didn't want to lose it without ever having the chance to..." 
Jim shrugged.

     "To what?"  Blair prodded.

     "See it fanned out on these pillows...bury my face in it while we
made love..."  He looked away, his face flushed, self-conscious at the
revelations.

     "I didn't think it mattered to you."

     "Everything about you matters to me, baby."  Jim ran his
fingertip down the perfect little slope of Blair's nose.  

     "Is every morning going to be this good?"  Blair asked,
grinning.

     "Maybe not this long, but hopefully this good," Jim responded,
chuckling a little and kissing Blair again.  Those full lips were
addictive.  Now that he had the liberty to taste them, Jim vowed to put
that privilege to good use.  Frequently.

     "This is pretty cliched, but I gotta ask."  Blair rolled his eyes. 
"Was it good for you?"

     "No.  Good is an understatement for this," Jim responded. 
"How about you?"

     "I seem to recall firing the first shots this morning."

     "Enough said."  Jim laughed, hugging Blair and rolling them
over so the smaller man was sprawled on top of him, all warm, sweaty,
sticky and naked.  And hairy.  Jim closed his eyes and took in the sense
of touch stimulated by each silky little body hair as it tickled his
smooth chest and belly.  

     "Jim?"  Blair's voice held a note of concern.

     "Not zoning, Chief.  Just...*feeling*."

     "What?"  Blair asked as his stomach growled noisily.

     "Now I'm feeling about a 5 on the Richter Scale--sounds like it's
breakfast time."

     "What *were* you feeling?"  Blair asked patiently.

     "Your body hairs."

     "My body hairs," Blair repeated, staring blankly at Jim. 
"Plural?  Like, every *hair*?"

     "Maybe not every one, but I can separate it out, feeling them all
moving on their own as you move.  You're kind of a hairy little guy." 
Jim grinned.  "Except back here."  He ran his hands down Blair's
smooth back and cupped his buttocks.

     "You like it or does it gross you out?"

     "I'm gonna love it, baby.  I just want to feel it, get used to it.  I
never had a hairy lover before.  But I love the way you feel.  And your
smell."

     "That must be a little past rank right now," Blair responded,
laughing.  He laced his fingers on Jim's chest and rested his chin there,
staring intently into Jim's eyes.

     "Not to me."  Jim stroked the strong back, then slid his hands
back into Blair's hair.  He evaluated the perfect features, the full mouth,
the dark lashes framing those deep blue eyes that seemed to look
straight into his soul.  "I wish...we could stop time...right here," Jim
said, stroking Blair's cheek, a troubled look on his face.

     "We can't stop time.  But we can spend the rest of the time we
have, together."

     "If you go down this road with me, Chief, it's going to be a hard
one."

     "I hate to break this to you, my heart, but we're already *on*
this road together--and I don't know about you, man, but I *can't* turn
back.  This is my brass ring, Jim.  I've got it now, and there ain't no way
in hell I'm letting go of it.  I understand if you need time to decide if
this is right for you...if you...if you need to still see other people for a
while yet.  But I'll never let go of you without a fight."

     "I've been with a few women in the last few years, but I haven't
*seen* anyone else for a long time.  Do you understand what I'm
saying, Blair?"

     "Yeah, because that's how I feel too.  My relationships have all
hit the skids in the last few years--anytime I really hooked up with
someone, and I thought...you know, maybe this one would be it,
something special.  But I'd go out on a date with them and spend most
of the night looking forward to coming back home in case you were
waiting up for me."

     "I didn't wait up for you when you went out, Sandburg," Jim
protested.

     "How many times do you fall asleep on the couch until two in
the morning when I'm home?"

     "You're always moving around, so how could I fall asleep for
that long in the living room unless you weren't here?"  Jim defended.

     "When we're both here, you jump up off the couch at some
early hour like someone just jabbed you in the ass with a cattle prod
and start getting ready for bed.  But when I go out, and I'm out late, you
sleep on the couch until I get home.  Now admit it."  Blair started
planting little kisses under Jim's chin, traveling down his neck.

     "Chief, I DO NOT WAIT UP FOR YOU."  Jim realized his
voice had come booming out angrily, which wasn't his intent. 
Nonetheless, Blair was undaunted as he looked up from his kissing
project.

     "Me thinks he doth protest too loudly."  Blair grinned.  "I used
to love that--coming in and finding you like that.  It made me
feel...special.  Really special," Blair repeated softly.  "Even if you won't
admit it."  Blair slid his arms around Jim and settled his head on the
strong chest.  "No matter who I was with, that was my favorite part of
the evening.  And if you wanted us to do something together...well, let's
say Sam accused me of standing her up for some other woman more
than once when you'd score some last minute basketball tickets or
suggest going out to shop for paint."

     "Paint?"  Jim repeated through a snorting laugh.  "You stood
Samantha up to go look at *paint*?"

     "Well, yeah.  We were talking about painting the living room,
and I didn't want to miss going out to that new Chinese buffet place and
then fighting over paint samples all evening.  What did Sam have that
could compete with that?"

     "Wow.  You *do* have it bad for me, don't you?"  Jim teased,
laughing as Blair grabbed a pillow and clubbed him in the face with it.

     "Shithead."

     "I love you too, asshole."  Jim grabbed Blair's face and kissed
his forehead.  "Come on.  I'll buy you a late breakfast.  Then maybe we
can go to the grocery store together."

     "Paybacks are hell, Jim.  You won't know when or where--"

     "Probably involve slipping something funky in my food," Jim
grumbled, heaving Blair off his body so he could get up, then reaching
back to pull his partner up on his feet.  Blair wrapped his arms around
Jim from behind, squeezing tightly, almost throwing the larger man off
balance.

     "You weren't planning on showering without me, were you?"

     "Doesn't look that way, does it?"  Jim teased, looking over his
shoulder at his new lover.

     "You don't get many mornings off.  We don't make love for the
first time too many mornings either," Blair added, kissing Jim's back
and then resting a stubbled cheek there.  Jim found the prickly
sensation oddly arousing.  But then, having a naked Blair plastered to
his own equally bare body was doing its share, as well.

     "I don't want to miss a minute of today with you," Jim
responded, turning to pull Blair into his arms again.  

     "Ever do it in the shower before?"  Blair asked devilishly.

     "Once or twice."

     "Did you like it?"

     "It was all right.  It was...awkward.  Carolyn used to get pissed
off at me if I got in the shower with her, so I didn't try it too often."

     "I'm gonna get pissed off at you if you *don't* get in the shower
with me.  Come on."  Blair grabbed Jim's hand and pulled him toward
the stairs.  

     //Making love in the shower was never like this before,// Jim
thought happily as he finished washing Blair, who had just washed
him.  The simple intimacy of the act had gotten them both hard again. 
Maybe it was because they had taken a real shower--actually bathed
each other, shared that most personal function together--that Jim found
so incredibly exciting.  After this morning, all the little barriers and
secrets were gone.  They hadn't just shared sex or mutual nudity.  They
had truly let each other in--and there was something warm and
wonderful curling around Jim's heart at not being on the other side of a
closed door from Blair for even a moment of this morning.  They were
lovers now, part of each other, and it was obvious that Jim was
welcome in Blair's personal space anytime, in any setting, without
being considered an intruder.  For a child who had grown up on the
other side of his father's closed study door, and a man who had spent a
good portion of his married life on the other side of a closed door, this
was a new experience.  And a healing one.

     "You're not zoning on me, are you?"  Blair prodded, nudging
Jim with the bottle of shampoo.  "Come on, man.  You gonna leave me
standing here like a wet dog or are you gonna wash my hair for me?"

     "I..."  Jim cleared his throat.  "I don't know how to...I never had
that much hair," Jim responded honestly.

     "It's not all that complicated to *shampoo* it.  Just put some
shampoo in your hand like you do with your own--well, more of it--
and then work it into a lather in my hair.   You'll figure it out as you
go."

     "Okay."  Jim took the bottle of shampoo and followed Blair's
instructions as the other man turned to face him. 

     "Don't get it in my eyes if you can avoid it, okay?  I'll keep my
head back a little."  Blair slid wet arms around Jim and looked up at
him, smiling happily while the larger man's fingers massaged his scalp
and moved the thick lather through the wet, curly strands.

     "So this is what takes you so long in here in the morning."  Jim
kissed his lover's mouth lightly to take any possible little sting out of
the words.

     "Well, duh.  What'd you think I was doing in here, shampooing
my chest hair?"

     "Styling it, maybe--hey!"  Jim started at the sharp smack to his
wet rear.

     "Serves you right."

     "So that's the game you wanna play, huh?"  Jim delivered a
playful, but loud, smack of his own.

     "Oh, man, not until you rinse out my hair, okay?"  Blair thrust
his groin against Jim's a time or two, leaving the other man wondering
if he could find the hand-eye coordination now to follow that
instruction.  "Well, and it needs conditioner.  That's the stuff in that
white bottle there on the shelf."

     "Conditioner?"

     "What, you think I'm this beautiful without effort?"  Blair
quipped as Jim carefully rinsed the long hair under the spray of the
shower.  Then, he looked at Jim very soberly.  "Don't hate me because
I'm beautiful," he said dramatically.  Jim couldn't help but laugh at that.

     "Sandburg, I swear, one of these days, you're really gonna piss
me off," Jim said through his chortling.

     "I haven't done it yet?  God, I must be slipping.  I used to be
able to piss you off with a minimum of effort."

     "Probably because I didn't love you so much back then, you
mouthy little shit.  This is the slimy stuff?"  Jim found the bottle of
conditioner and held it up.

     "When you put it that way, geez...  Yeah, that's the stuff.  Just
work it into my hair, get a little more on the ends.  Then I'll wash your
hair while it's in there."

     Blair made good on his promise, gently massaging Jim's scalp,
thoroughly washing the soft, though less abundant, hair on Jim's head.  

     "What made you grow it out longer?"  Blair asked, guiding Jim
under the spray to rinse.

     "I don't know...bored with the whole brush-cut thing, I guess. 
You think I should buzz it again?"

     "No way, man.  Nothin' left for me to get a grip on," Blair
retorted, flexing his eyebrows.  "I like it longer like this.  You have
nice hair, Jim."

     "I do?"  Jim responded, totally thrown by that observation
coming from the King of Hair himself.  

     "It's real soft and silky, and it has nice highlights when the sun
hits it."  Blair finished rinsing Jim's hair.  "I need a rinse here, man, or
I'm gonna be a greaseball."

     Jim rinsed the conditioner out of Blair's hair and used a swift,
gentle hand to push any polluted water back as it made an ill-fated
attempt to run into Blair's eyes.  When he finished, he was pulled down
into a prolonged kiss.

     "Water's getting cold, Chief."

     "Guess I better keep your cock nice and warm then, huh?"  Blair
suggested in a distinctly sultry tone, just before lowering himself to his
knees in front of Jim and engulfing the head of the stiffened shaft in
the hot cavern of his mouth, one hand circling the base, the other
lightly fondling Jim's balls.

     "Oh, God..."  Jim leaned against the tiles, clawed at them with
shaking hands as he tried to brace himself and stay upright. 
This...*gift* from Blair had been so unexpected, so incredible, and so
intense that it had left Jim breathless and stunned.  The physical
sensations were overloading his senses.  Blair's scent, the scent of their
arousals, the soap, the shampoo, the steam, the silky wetness of Blair's
tongue as it sweetly tortured the hypersensitive head, and then the scent
of Blair's completion as he came from the pleasure of pleasuring Jim... 
"Blair...  I..."  Some part of Jim's brain was telling him to pull back,
that he was coming, that Blair shouldn't swallow it, that they hadn't
talked about anything like this, that Blair might not like it...

     And all those thoughts swirled into an incoherent, unspoken
mass of nothingness as Jim shouted out his lover's name once, sharply,
his climax rippling through him in jolting waves, Blair not backing
away, drinking him down, although a bit awkwardly, pulling back with
white droplets on his mouth and chin.  

     Blair smiled up at his recovering lover, a mixture of love,
passion and a little shyness all at once.  Jim slid down the wall until he
landed on his ass in the tub, and pulled Blair between his legs, their
arms wrapping around each other as they were pelted by the
unforgiving cold water.  

     "Shit, Chief, your back's like ice."  Jim's hand's froze in the
middle of Blair's back, which had shielded him from the cold spray. 
He could feel a few fine tremors pass through Blair, and realized,
feeling almost sick with guilt, that he was cold.  Jim reached past them
and hit the button to stop the shower, which only sent a stream of cold
water into the tub, causing them to both yelp at the sensation.  Blair
made a successful reach for the faucet, turning off the water, then
looked back at Jim, laughing.  

     "That was refreshing."

     "Come here."  Jim pulled Blair to him, kissing him deeply,
tasting himself mixed with the flavor of Blair's mouth.  "Baby, we
never talked about...I'm sorry...I..."

     "Sorry?  What for?"  Blair frowned, pulling back.  

     "For this," Jim responded softly, using his thumb to wipe away
the drops on Blair's chin.  Blair seized his wrist and engulfed the tip of
Jim's thumb in his mouth, licking it clean.

     "That's mine," he explained when he released Jim's wrist.  

     "Blair, we didn't talk about...about using anything or--"

     "Are you worried about something?"

     "No, no--my tests have all come back clean and I haven't
exactly slept around."

     "You've been careful?"

     "Always...God, Blair, until now, until with you--when it matters
the most to me."

     "I'm not afraid of you, Jim.  I know you're careful, and I know
you'd take care of getting tested.  I also know you wouldn't have let me
go down on you if you'd honestly known any good reason why I
shouldn't."

     "I want you to know that you matter to me, that I want to be
careful of you."

     "I've used protection with everyone I've been with--all my life.  I
started having sex when people first started *dying* from having sex. 
No rash, no nasty itch--*death, man*."  Blair shook his head.  "I didn't
ever want to die for no good reason.  So I've been careful.  And I get
tested.  And I don't have sex with anyone I don't know pretty damn
well, and who isn't the kind of person who would be careful
themselves."  

     "I'm not really at risk for much here, Chief."

     "Not yet.  But if you want me to use something, for your
protection, I understand, and I will."

     "What you just said, about my not letting you take a bad risk on
me if I knew it was dangerous?"  Jim watched while Blair nodded.  "I
trust you, baby.  If you say it's safe, it's safe."

     "Safe as any two humans who aren't totally celibate can be.  But
I made my choice, and you should be able to make yours.  I won't be
hurt if you want me to use something."

     //Liar,// Jim thought lovingly.  

     "No.  We're in all of this together.  And I already told you I
won't be seeing anybody else."

     "Ever again?"  Blair asked, settling in Jim's arms, mindless of
the fact that they were cold, wet, clammy and damned uncomfortable. 
//But then, you're not the one with his ass compressed against the
bathtub with a 155-pound, hairy starfish sprawled out on you,// Jim
thought with fond annoyance.  He kissed the wet hair and patted Blair's
butt.

     "Not ever again."

     "I love you."

     "I love you too, Chief."  

     "Breakfast?"  Blair suggested.

     "Breakfast."

     The two men climbed out of the tub, using a warm washcloth to
clean off any remaining traces of their lovemaking.  Not willing to be
separated, they worked their way through he rest of their morning
routine together, Blair finishing his hair and then shaving, Jim trying to
shave when all he had was a two-inch corner of the mirror to work
with.

     "We need a bigger mirror."

     "We need a bigger bathtub," Jim added, setting his razor aside,
relieved not to have slit his own throat while trying to avoid Blair's
movements, and while trying to ignore the fact that his cock kept
brushing against Blair's ass.  And it liked it.

     "We need a bigger hot water heater," Blair amended, laughing.

********

     Ruby's Diner was a small restaurant with a reputation for huge
breakfasts.  Located in what had always been a convenient point
between the PD and the University, the crowd was an eclectic mix of
cops, students, businesspeople and senior citizens.  With its 50's
nostalgia theme, complete with an old jukebox in the corner, it was a
favorite student hangout later in the day and into the evening.

     Blair walked in slightly ahead of Jim, and they scanned the
thinning crowd for an empty booth.  It was almost ten, so the true
breakfast-eaters were mostly gone, leaving just a few stragglers behind. 
Blair's face lit up when he spotted a man sitting alone at one of the
booths.  

     "Rick," he said pleasantly, approaching the friend and fellow
student who had been coerced into writing papers for Brad Ventriss.  It
had been the date rape of Rick's girlfriend that had started the chain of
events that had put Blair at cross-purposes with Ventriss in the first
place, and his unwillingness to let that act go unanswered that had
resulted in Ventriss being arrested.

     "Hi, Blair," the other man greeted quietly, his eyes flicking up
only slightly at Blair's approach.  There was no smile.

     "How's Jill doing?"  Blair persisted, apparently not quite ready
to accept that he was getting the cold shoulder from the other man.

     "Fine."

     "I'm glad to hear that.  She was pretty torn up about things last
semester, and I was concerned about her.  I'm glad she's feeling better."

     "Yeah, she's fine."  Rick finally glanced up in Blair's direction,
not quite meeting his eyes.  "Nothing personal, man, but I'm meeting
some people here to study, and I need to look over my notes."  He
gestured at a spiral notebook that had been sitting on the table, closed,
when Blair approached him.  Jim assessed that the little prick had
finished most of his coffee and part of a donut without opening the
notes, but now, suddenly, he was pressed for study time.

     "Oh, sure.  Good seeing you again."

     "Yeah.  Take care," Rick said sullenly, averting his eyes from
Blair and opening the notebook.

     "There's a booth," Blair said, trying for cheerfulness in his
voice, and missing by a mile, but only with someone who knew him
well.  Jim shot a glare back toward Rick as the other man pretended to
pore over his notes.  He made the mistake of glancing up while Jim
was looking his way, and his disconcerted gulp, audible to sentinel
ears, signaled Jim that his message had been received.  Blair would
never stand for an embarrassing confrontation, and it would have been
wildly inappropriate for Jim to say anything, but he couldn't resist
letting the asshole who had hurt Blair so badly with his rudeness know
that it hadn't gone unnoticed.

     "So what sounds good?"  Jim returned the phony cheer, figuring
that would be easier for Blair than talking about being snubbed by
someone he'd considered a close friend.

     "How about Belgian waffles?"  Blair suggested, perusing the
menu.  He glanced up when Rick's friends came to join him.  Noticing
that Sandburg's attention was riveted to the other table, albeit discretely
from behind his menu, Jim was grateful his partner didn't have the
sharp ears he did.  It was bad enough the group of four students were
laughing and talking and doing anything but studying, and bad enough
that more than one furtive glance shot Blair's way from time to time, as
if he were John Dillinger and not one of their former colleagues.  If
Blair had been able to hear their condemning words and their disgust
for him as a fraud, and worse yet--their dismissal of the destruction of
his academic life with a few snide jokes--it would have broken his
heart.

     "Blueberry or strawberry?"  Jim prodded.

     "Let's get one of each and swap--sound good?"  Blair suggested,
laying the menu aside.

     "Great," Jim responded, smiling back at his new lover.  More
often than not, they'd order two different things and split up the
goodies.  Somehow, this morning, it all seemed more intimate.  

     Another wave of laughter came from Rick's table, and Blair
cleared his throat, looking around ostensibly to find a waitress.  After
she approached the table and took their drink orders, leaving behind
two glasses of water, Blair launched into conversation as best he could
with the obvious distraction not that far from where they were sitting.

     "I'm glad we didn't see anybody from the PD here this
morning," Jim commented, wishing his voice would be adequate to
deflect the sounds of socializing from the other table.

     "You and me both.  Guess we'd have to tell Simon it was a
miracle cure or something."  Blair did well at maintaining his smile and
lack of attention to the voices of Rick and his friends, none of whom
had brought with them anything that resembled textbooks or notes for
studying.
     
     "Blair, I'm sorry about what happened over there," Jim said,
unable to ignore the situation any longer, and figuring talking about it
might help.  "We can go somewhere else if you want."

     "Well, hey, it's not too surprising.  I kind of expected some bad
attitude."  Blair glanced their way again, then back and Jim.  "I'm not
going to let them drive me out of here."

     "You risked your life for that bastard and his fucked up
girlfriend."

     "He thinks I'm a liar, Jim.  I was all self-righteous with him
about writing papers for Brad..."  Blair shrugged.  "And then look at
me."

     "You didn't do anything wrong, Chief."

     "But he doesn't know that.  He thinks I'm a fraud.  And worse
than that, a self-righteous one."

     "You covered for him the best you could.  You risked your ass
to help him out."

     "Let it go, Jim.  It's okay."

     "No, it's not okay."

     "Maybe not, but it's...what *is*.  Let's just drop it."  Blair took a
drink of his orange juice.

     Jim looked at the booth they occupied, a nice big curved one
that surrounded the table like a horseshoe.  These booths always made
great seats for a group of up to four people comfortably.  Jim quietly
began moving his drinks and place setting closer to Blair's, and while
the younger man watched, mouth slightly agape, slid around until he
was sitting next to Blair.  

     "That's better."  

     "Uh, Jim, we're going to look--"

     "What?  Like a couple?  Is that a problem?"

     "Yeah--for you, big time."  Blair shook his head.  "You don't
have to do this because of Rick and those guys," Blair said quietly.  "I
love you for wanting to make me feel better about this, but I don't want
you to do something that makes you uncomfortable."

     "Sitting way over there made me uncomfortable.  I'm
comfortable now."  Jim reached over and took a hold of Blair's hand. 
"And if anyone has a problem with the fact we're a couple, they can
fucking kiss my ass."

     "No they can't.  That's my job now, remember?"  Blair said,
squeezing Jim's hand and smiling brilliantly.

     "No, but after we eat, I think we should go home so you can
remind me."  Jim leaned closer.  "Plus, I still owe you one after the
shower this morning."

     "I really, really love you, you know?"  Blair whispered, his
voice sounding a little strained.

     "I really, really love you too."

     The waffles were served, and the two men ate their breakfast,
swapping food and talking amongst themselves in hushed tones, Rick
and his table of jerks all but forgotten.

********

     "Where to now?"  Jim started up the truck.

     "This is sort of like 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off', isn't it?"  Blair
quipped, grinning.

     "Absolutely.  Anywhere you wanna go, Chief."

     "Would you consider me a perverted nymphomaniac if I said I
wanted to go back home so we could go to bed?"

     "Probably--and I'd consider myself damn lucky to have found
one of those," Jim said, laughing a little as he started up the engine.

     "Home, James," Blair directed, grinning.  "I always wanted to
say that."

     The drive home was made rather expediently, with a quick stop
at a drug store not far from the loft, at Blair's insistence.  He hadn't
shown Jim what was in his little white bag, but as soon as they walked
into the loft, he produced the tube of K-Y and flaunted it at Jim like it
was a new toy.

     "I figured we probably didn't have a lot of this stuff lying
around the house."

     "I can just about guarantee that you're right there," Jim
responded, feeling a little blush creeping up from his collar to his
cheeks.  It wasn't like he was exactly a blushing virgin, or that he hadn't
seen just about every trick in the book in one setting or another during
his time with Vice.  But there was something so significant about
everything with Blair--and something so new about loving another
man--that it felt like being an awkward teenager again, back to square
one.

     "Uh...I'm gonna go in and clean up a little, okay?"

     "Clean up?  We showered this morning."

     "Yeah, I know, but..."  Blair let the sentence trail off, then
gestured a little nervously with the tube he still held in his hand.  "If
we, uh, do anything with this...  I just want to be sure...you know, that
nothing...*gross* is gonna happen."

     "Blair, are you saying you want me to--"

     "If you want to," Blair responded, shifting from one foot to the
other, just barely meeting Jim's eyes.  "We can do something else
if...well, if it doesn't turn you on...the idea of doing that."

     "Everything about you turns me on, baby."  Jim framed the
troubled face with his hands, letting his fingers slide back into the soft
hair.  "I don't want you to feel rushed."

     "We've got all day.  It might take that long--I never did this
before."

     "Neither did I.  I know where the parts are, but I never put them
together before," Jim quipped, smiling as Blair chuckled a little.  

     "I'll meet you upstairs in a few, okay?"  

     "Sure."  Jim watched his partner disappear into the bathroom,
using all his self control not to follow him in there with his enhanced
hearing and listen in on whatever little ritual Blair was going to go
through to get himself cleaner than he already was.

     Trudging up the steps to the bedroom, a number of erotic
images flickered through Jim's mind, and he figured there was little
harm in fantasizing and speculating, wondering if Blair was thoroughly
scrubbing himself *there*, getting ready for him...

     He turned on the small CD player near the bed and picked out
an instrumental New Age CD that both he and Blair always agreed on
for background music.  Figuring he wouldn't have much need for
clothes, he stripped down to nothing and put on his robe, then
straightened up the bed and fluffed the pillows.  Just as he was
completing this task, he heard the bathroom door open.  

     Blair moved fairly swiftly across the first floor, and then up the
steps to the loft bedroom.  He was naked except for a towel wrapped
around his hips.   He hadn't showered again, but Jim could smell soap,
indicating that Blair had washed up again.

     Jim crossed the small distance to his lover and enfolded him in
a smothering hug, then moved back long enough to untie his robe, open
it, pull Blair close and wrap it most of the way around his lover's back.  

     "I always thought this robe was too big for you, man," Blair
quipped, grinning as he felt Jim tug at and then remove the towel
around his waist and toss it aside.

     "Just the right size to share with a hairy little friend of mine."

     "You keep calling me 'hairy'--is that good or bad?"

     "Good.  I like it," Jim responded honestly, loving the new
sensation of all those silky little hairs tickling his skin.  "Come 'ere." 
Jim backed them up until he fell back on the mattress, Blair landing on
top of him.  He claimed Blair's mouth, rolling them around on the bed
almost playfully as they kissed and licked and nibbled.  Finally stilling
in the middle of the mattress, they settled into prolonged kissing,
holding each other close and wallowing in the luxury of a whole day
free with nothing to do but get to know each other's body.

     Jim finally rose up over his lover, tossing his robe aside, then
descending again to carefully cover Blair with his body, delving in for
another session with that lush, full, addictive mouth.

     "Want to taste all of you, baby," he hissed against Blair's ear,
smiling at the answering rubbing of fingers against his scalp from
Blair, who had his hand buried in Jim's hair.  "You have a hair fetish
you're not telling me about, Chief?"  Jim grinned, his face not even a
full inch away from his lover's.

     "I always wanted to touch your hair.  It looks so soft...and it is."

     "What there is of it, huh?"  Jim quipped, smiling.

     "There's plenty there yet.  Enough for me to play with," Blair
added, kissing Jim lightly.

     Jim responded by trailing kisses down Blair's jaw and his throat,
moving out to each shoulder, first one, then the other.  He laced his
fingers with Blair's and gently pushed the other man's arms flat on the
mattress, kissing and licking at the tender, satiny skin on the insides of
them.  He nuzzled the freshly-scrubbed armpits, loving Blair for his
consideration of sentinel-level senses with his last-minute wash up job. 
The hair there was soft, a little silkier than the other body hair, and
kept Jim there longer than he planned, memorizing the texture.

     Blair's little groan spurred Jim to move on to the nipples,
already hard and peaked from Blair's arousal.  Jim dragged his tongue
across one of the pert buds, then drew a trail with its tip to the mate,
licking over it much the same way.  

     "Jim...more, please," Blair groaned, trying to thrust his chest up
against the teasing mouth.  Moved by the tinge of desperate arousal in
the voice, Jim fastened his mouth on the left nipple and sucked.  "Oh,
God...yeah, that's it," Blair breathed, sliding his hands into Jim's hair to
hold him in place, prolonging the intense stimulation.  

     Though the taste of that one hard little nub was becoming
addictive, Jim forced himself to move away from it, consoling himself
that it had a little friend that was still waiting for attention.  Judging by
the rock hard erection that was poking him in the stomach at the
moment, Jim assessed that Blair's nipples were definitely the way to
jumpstart the younger man.  He worked the second nipple long and
hard, until Blair's breathing was coming out in uneven gasps.

     "Relax, baby.  I want to taste every part of you today.  Loving
you's gonna take all day," Jim whispered in Blair's ear, then ran his
tongue around the shell before moving down to explore Blair's midriff
and stomach with hot, hungry lips.

     "I don't know how much longer I can hold on, man," Blair said
honestly, his hardness still nudging at Jim.

     "You've got a ways to go, Chief."  Jim smiled against the soft
skin of Blair belly, then turned back to his project of slowly dragging
his tongue over the flat stomach, then dipping into the little valley of
the navel, swirling around, poking at it.  

     "Jim..."  Blair gave up on asking for mercy and just groaned,
spreading his legs in a very blatant attempt to direct Jim's attentions
lower.  

     "This isn't fun anymore, is it, baby?"  Jim asked
sympathetically, moving back to look at the painfully hard shaft jutting
out from Blair's body.  Blair just panted, shifting around a bit.  Jim had
planned to end up sucking him off, mainly to get him relaxed and take
the sharp edge off so they could take their time with the main event. 
Faced with actually doing the deed, Jim had to admit to himself, at
least, that he'd been stalling a bit.  Not because he was repulsed by any
part of Blair, but just out of a simple case of jitters.  He'd never had
another man's cock in his mouth, and all the attendant fears were there.

     "You don't have to...your hand is okay...or let me do it, but I'm
ready for something here, man," Blair's voice held no recrimination,
just frustration.  

     "I want to," Jim responded honestly, wrapping his hand around
the base of the strong shaft, slowly lowering his mouth over the head,
only taking it partway, working it with his hand and mouth.  

     "Oh, God..."  Blair grabbed the sheets on either side of him,
fighting not to thrust up suddenly.  They were both new to this, and the
last thing he wanted to do was bruise or gag Jim in some way.  When
he'd had Jim in his mouth in the shower, he'd approached it much the
same way, using his hand and mouth, and Jim had somehow kept his
hips from thrusting too hard in Blair's direction.

     //This is the most intimate, vulnerable, sensitive part of him...in
my mouth, my hand...God, listen to him groan.  His knuckles are
turning white he's holding onto the sheets so hard...because of me...//
Jim smiled around his mouthful, flicking his tongue over the slit,
loving the little shout of pleasure it drew from Blair.  

     And then Blair stiffened, his juices bursting into Jim's mouth
and throat, Jim managing to stay fastened to the pulsing organ,
swallowing all it had to offer before finally pulling back, kissing the
deflating cock and then gently kissing the balls beneath it.  Getting
distracted by exploring the scent and texture of this region, Jim began
kissing and licking at the sensitive balls, then peppered the insides of
Blair's thighs with wet kisses.

     "Jim...love you...come up here with me," Blair said softly,
finally releasing the handfuls of bedding he'd forgotten he was
gripping.

     "You're beautiful, baby.  You know that?"  Jim moved up and
kissed Blair thoroughly, then gathered him into his arms.

     "Love you so much.  That was so good."  Blair smiled as he
cuddled against Jim's chest, wrapping one of his legs around one of
Jim's.

     "Love you too, angel."

     "I'm gonna roll over," Blair said, kissing Jim's chin, which was
handiest for him from the angle where he lay against his lover.  

     "Nervous?"  Jim asked gently as Blair shifted onto his stomach
on the bed.

     "A little, but I really want this," Blair responded.

     "Lift up your tummy a little, huh?"  Jim grabbed a couple of
pillows and stuffed them under his lover.  "Comfortable?"  Jim asked
as Blair settled himself over the pillows, then spread his legs wide.

     "Yeah...feels weird to have my butt stuck up so high."

     "It *looks* great," Jim said, moving behind Blair and taking in
the view.

     "You better be doin' more than looking."

     "It'll be easier for you to relax this way, and if you're in a good
position for it, it might not be so difficult."

     "It's kind of a turn-on."

     "I hope so."  Jim leaned forward and kissed one of the upturned
cheeks.  

     "Now *that's* a turn on," Blair responded, wiggling his ass
provocatively.  

     "Speaking of turn-ons."  Jim ran his hands along Blair's sides as
he began kissing and licking at the smooth cheeks so nicely presented
to him there.  He left no patch of skin on Blair's ass unexplored, and
when he was content that his lover was working toward his second
major erection, he placed a hand on each cheek and pulled them gently
apart, exposing Blair's center.

     "Please...Jim...do it!"  Blair goaded.

     "No rushing this one, baby.  I'm just getting started."  Jim
moved forward and teased Blair's perineum with his tongue.  Applying
gentle pressure on the sensitive little patch, he teased and stimulated
Blair with his tongue, the tip of it just reaching the edge of the
puckered opening without actually giving it any relief...*yet*.  

     "Ugh...feels...so good...*more*..."

     Jim moved up from this addictive little patch of satiny skin and
dragged his tongue over Blair's center.  The younger man's head shot up
from where it had been resting on his folded arms.  

     "Like that, do we?"  Jim teased, massaging the buttocks firmly
with his hands, moving in for another motion with his tongue, licking
the little hole several times before poking his rolled up tongue into it,
eliciting a scream of pleasure from Blair, who was thrusting his rear
back toward Jim now, trying to increase the sensation.

     Jim took his time, learning every texture, scent and flavor down
here.  This was the intimate part of Blair...the part that was only going
to be his from now on.  And this hot little hole he was lubing with his
tongue belonged to only Jim.  No other man had been in this territory
with Blair before.

     Snagging the tube of slippery stuff off the mattress where it had
been discarded, Jim squeezed out a liberal amount on his fingers.  

     "Relax, baby.  I'm going to try putting my finger in a little
ways."  Jim rubbed his greasy finger over the puckered opening, then
poked the tip in a little, wondering if this muscle felt this snug with just
a finger tip, what it would be like trying to fit his cock in there.  His
body liked the notion, his own arousal growing painfully hard and
needy.  

     He ventured in to the second knuckle, wiggling his finger
around as Blair wiggled his ass. 

     "I like it...feels good," Blair goaded, trying to bear down on the
finger.  Jim rotated it more aggressively now, almost in rhythm with
Blair's hips.  He withdrew the finger and added more lube.  

     "Two are coming, baby."  Jim kissed the small of Blair's back
and carefully worked two fingers up inside the tight passage.  Blair
groaned and shifted again, thrusting his butt up as high as he could
manage.

     "Mmmm..."

     "Feels good?"  Jim prodded, still stretching, lubing and
massaging those tight internal walls.

     "Ooh, yeah," Blair responded, grinning over his shoulder at Jim. 


     "How about this?"  Jim asked innocently, just before making the
effort to graze Blair's prostate with his finger.  Blair writhed on the bed
with a shout of pleasure.

     "Do that again!"  he managed.  Jim was happy to oblige,
running his finger over the sensitive little bud until Blair was groaning
and shouting out his pleasure unabashedly.

     "Three fingers, Chief."

     "Just get in me!"  Blair shouted, not happy at the withdrawal of
stimulation.

     "Easy, baby.  Easy does it."  Jim bit his lip, ignoring his own
raging erection, and trying hard to ignore Blair's pleas to be drilled into
the mattress.  The younger man was a virgin to this, as Jim was
himself, and as much fun as Blair might be having with all this finger
action, Jim knew enough to know that the final penetration could hurt,
and if they weren't careful, could hurt *badly*.

     Jim slid the three fingers into Blair's body much more easily
that he expected.  Blair wasn't lying that he wanted this, and that he
was close to being ready for it.  Blair was writhing shamelessly on the
impaling fingers, rocking against the pillows, groaning in pleasure,
sweat breaking out in a fine sheen over his back, making a few dark
curls stick there as he moved his head back and forth.  

     The fingers found Blair's prostate again and rubbed over it a
few times in rapid succession, Jim loving the sight of Blair's head
shooting up as he rose up on all fours, rocking back against the fingers,
unable to be a passive participant any longer.  He cried out in pleasure,
the front of his body seemingly unable to decide if it should flatten on
the mattress to raise his ass or if it should stay higher so Blair could
help set the rocking pace.

     Withdrawing his fingers, Jim lubed up his cock and moved into
position.  

     "I'm coming in, baby.  Tell me if it hurts."  Jim kissed the damp
back before lining his cock up with the opening and pushing past the
initial resistance.  Blair froze, his head resting now on his folded arms.

     "More, Jim," he directed in a strained voice.

     Jim moved forward a bit more, then stopped as Blair groaned.  

     "Okay, baby?"  Jim asked gently.  The pressure around his cock
was second to none.  He'd never felt anything this intense, this good...

     "Yeah...just...it's *stretching*.  I need a minute."

     "I know, baby.  I know.  Relax.  We've got all day to love each
other."  Jim used one hand to rub Blair's back soothingly, the other to
reach under him and start pumping the slightly faltering erection.  That
seemed to help, and Jim felt the resistance lessening.  He pushed in a
bit further, and encountering no adverse reactions, slid the rest of the
way in to the hilt, his groin against his lover's firm buttocks.

     The moment of connection was incredible, pure magic.  He had
always felt so *one* with Blair in spirit, and now, they were *one* in
body as well.  Sharing something neither had ever shared with anyone
else, or would ever share with anyone else.  This was their ritual, their
connection, their sacred territory

     "I love you, my sweetheart," Jim whispered against Blair's back,
then kissed him there several times, waiting for him to adjust to the
bulk inside him.

     "Love you too," Blair responded, then turned his head so he
could look at Jim.  "Do you feel it?"

     "I sure do, baby.  Right down to the pit of my soul," Jim
responded honestly, knowing Blair meant more than just the physical
sensations of their union.  There was a heart-wrenching, soul-deep
intensity in finally being connected, being together as it felt they were
always meant to be.  

     "I'm okay, Jim.  Make love to me?"  Blair suggested gently,
smiling over his shoulder at his lover.

     Jim began slowly, tentatively, moving in and out in long, easy
glides, letting Blair join the rhythm and help set the pace.  Up on all
fours now, Blair was rocking harder than Jim was, until the larger man
caught up to him, and they fell into a perfect beat of thrust and counter-thrust, 
skin slapping together, grunts of pleasure filling the bedroom.  

     Angling his thrusts, Jim managed to graze with his cock the
same little pleasure button he'd found with his fingers.  Blair screamed
out then, grabbing onto the railing behind the bed, crying out with each
stroke to his prostate, begging Jim to go faster, slam harder, moving his
own body to make it happen.

     Something in his brain telling him he shouldn't ride a virgin too
hard the first time out, Jim let Blair control most of the hard strokes he
seemed to want by thrusting back against Jim.  

     "I'm...it's coming..."  Blair grunted, then his internal walls
clamped down around Jim as the smaller man's body stiffened.  His
passage spasmed on Jim's cock, dragging cries of pleasure out of Jim
the likes of which he never remembered emitting in bed before in his
life.  But then, nothing had ever felt this tight, this hot, this good and
this *right*.  He answered Blair's climax with one of his own, filling
his lover's body with his completion, following a spent Blair down onto
the tangled sheets in a heap of sweaty flesh, still joined.

     Long minutes later, as they lay there recovering, Jim found
Blair's hand and picked it up, pulling it back to his mouth and kissing
it.  

     "You okay, baby?"  he asked gently.

     "That was...I never...*wow*."

     "I couldn't have said it better myself, Darwin."  Jim chuckled
affectionately, cuddling Blair close and turning them on their sides,
spoon style, Blair tucked in the curve of his body as if he'd been
specially made just to fit there.  "You were perfect, baby.  It was
amazing."

     "I never felt anything like that," Blair said softly.  "The
intensity...the..."

     "Rightness?"  Jim supplied, kissing Blair's ear, just because he
could reach it.

     "Yeah...the *rightness*," Blair repeated, smiling.  

     "I should pull out, sweetheart.  It might hurt a bit."

     "Okay.  I'm ready."  Blair grabbed onto Jim's hand and held on
tightly as Jim eased out of him.  "Ow."  It was a hushed little syllable.

     "How bad is it?"  Jim asked worriedly.

     "It was worth it.  I'm just a little sore," Blair responded, looking
over his shoulder with a grin.  "It was *so* worth it.  Just don't expect
me to sit down anytime soon."  Blair's face flushed a little more then,
and Jim hugged him tighter.  

     "Okay, baby.  Roll over and let me take a look at you."

     "What?"

     "I want to make sure you're just sore--that we didn't hurt
anything."

     "Jim...'m tired."

     "Just roll on your belly and don't fight with me."  Jim kissed
Blair's shoulder and moved away from him until the other man
complied with the directive, spreading his legs a little when he landed
on his stomach.  

     "Stay put.  I'm going to get us a washcloth, baby."  Jim kissed
one buttock and patted the other as he got off the bed and headed for
the bathroom.  Gathering a washcloth soaked with warm, soapy water,
another one with just water, a towel, and a bowl from the kitchen so
there was somewhere to put them all once he got upstairs, Jim headed
back up for the bedroom.  His breath caught in his throat at the sight
that greeted him.

     Blair had dozed off, facing the stairs, still on his stomach,
gloriously naked, a few little passion marks here and there that Jim
didn't even remember leaving, his hair a tousled riot of curls partially
obscuring his face, which was flushed and damp from their
lovemaking.  One closed fist rested on the mattress near his head, the
other arm haphazardly flung on the bed.  

     Jim moved closer to his sleeping lover and sat on the edge of
the bed.  

     "I'm going to clean you up, baby."  Jim stroked the back of
Blair's head lightly until the other man stirred, not wanting to startle
him with the washcloth.

     "Mmm.  Okay."  Blair seemed content to lie there in his stupor.  

     Jim gently washed Blair's butt and his center, relieved not to
find any blood on the washcloth.  Being it was Blair's first time, and
they hadn't exactly gone at it slowly, the danger of tearing had nagged
at the back of Jim's mind and controlled much of his movement when
they were making love.

     "Roll on your side, baby.  I want to clean off your belly."  

     With a little groan of protest, Blair flopped on his back, and Jim
cleaned him up.  When he'd finished, he washed himself off quickly
and set the bowl of cloths aside.  

     "How do you feel, Chief?"  Jim asked softly, taking a hold of
Blair's hand.

     "Loved," Blair responded sleepily, smiling and looking at Jim
through barely open eyes.  "Sleepy."

     "Nap sounds great right about now."  Jim crawled into bed with
his lover and they spooned together again, Jim groping around until he
found the sheet's edge and pulled it over their cooling bodies.  "You're
my life, Blair," he said softly into the curls where he'd buried his face.

     "And you're mine, love," Blair responded, smiling as he drifted
off to sleep.

     Jim spent a long time just resting there, feeling Blair's even
breathing, absorbing the warmth and the scent of his body, the feeling
of his hair, finally leaning up on one elbow so he could get a better
look at the sleeping face from his vantage point behind Blair.  

     Now that they'd made love, really, all the way, Jim felt an
almost painfully strong connection to the sleeping man in his arms. 
Remembering all the horrible trials they'd been through in the last year,
he leaned down and kissed Blair's cheek, glad the other man was too
deeply asleep to notice.  Maybe if they'd admitted their feelings, made
love last year sometime, all that shit would have never happened. 
Maybe Jim wouldn't have felt the need to plot a vacation to get away
from Blair, maybe they would have both done better at communicating
about Blair's dissertation before Jim ended up reading it in a PD
bathroom stall against Blair's wishes.  Maybe Alex Barnes wouldn't
have had the kind of success she had in coming between them.  Maybe
Blair wouldn't have faced death at her hands, and maybe, even now, his
career wouldn't be in tatters.  

     Jim lay back down behind Blair, sighing quietly, wishing
desperately he could go back and undo those hurts, change those things
that had put them both through so much.  Give Blair back his honor
and his good name among his academic colleagues.  He'd been angry at
Naomi when it all happened, but far angrier at Blair for...*something*. 
He still wasn't sure what.  Maybe he was most angry that they weren't
sleeping together, and the whole mess with the sentinel thing going
public was as good an excuse as any to vent some frustration.  

     Not that Jim blamed Blair for them not getting together sooner,
but living with him, working with him, touching him, being in his
space every day without taking it to the next level had frayed Jim's
nerves to their snapping point.  And when all that money was being
waved under Sandburg's nose, along with fame and academic acclaim
and Nobel Prizes...Jim really hadn't felt he stood a chance, as a friend
or a lover, of winning Blair away from that.  So he'd made a
preemptive strike, pushing him away and encouraging him to grab the
brass ring.

     According to Blair, he had--he'd grabbed Jim.  No one was
more stunned at that outcome than Jim himself, as he held his sleeping
prize in his arms and vowed that for all the rotten things they'd both
endured in the last few months, no one would ever hurt Blair again
without going through him first.  And he was going to make a
concerted effort not to be the one doing the hurting.

********

     Blair stirred, and felt his movement seriously restricted by a
big, warm body and two substantial arms.  Still spooned inside the
curve of Jim's body, Blair had to be content to stay still unless he
wanted to wake Jim, and he was figuring the other man needed his
sleep as badly as Blair had needed his own post-sex snooze.  

     He felt the left over soreness from their lovemaking, and
smiled.  Jim hadn't given him the pounding he'd begged for in the heat
of passion, and that sent a rush of warmth through Blair at the memory. 
Jim had held back a little and made Blair set the hard rhythm--smart
enough and loving enough to know that as much fun as Blair was
having with this new found sex act at the moment, he was going to be
in serious pain later if they went at it too hard.  As it was, Blair wasn't
planning on seeking out any hard chairs in the near future.

     Yawning and closing his eyes, he let the peace and tranquility
of the moment wash over him, noticing that it was still daylight
outside, still plenty of hours to spend together and love each other on
this first day of their lives together--really *together*.  He felt Jim's
cock nestled between his cheeks, a sleeping giant resting against the
tender opening to his body.

     His thoughts strayed back to his dead dissertation, the mess his
whole professional life was in at the moment...//What professional life? 
I must have missed something...// he ridiculed himself silently. //A
professional life means you actually *do* something besides fuck up
firearms training.  The hell of it is, I'm a good shot.  If I shoot to kill, I
probably will.  And I just don't trust myself to look at another human
being and pull the trigger, knowing they're going to drop, that their life
is going to cease, because of me...//

     Now things would be even more complicated.  Not only was
Blair always a bit on the outside at the PD, but now he was Jim's lover. 
He wondered how long it would take before the handful of cops who
didn't think they were already doing it would figure it out.  Part of the
reason he'd spent so much time weaving yarns of his sexual conquests
had been to deflect the ridicule and potential harassment from Jim.  If
he could create an image for himself of a womanizer, a jumper of table
legs, then a lot of cops would accept that and figure that their
arrangement was just what it was--two friends sharing an apartment.

     What would happen to Jim now if they did stay on and Blair
became his partner?  It was bad enough that Blair was getting through
training under a whole host of special privileges.  But now if it showed
in the way they looked at each other or the way they touched, or if
someone actually saw something or found out...what then?

     If they gave up on the PD, where would they go and what would
they do?  A defunct academic and an ex-cop?  Starve to death?  Most
likely.  Living on love would work for a while, until there weren't any
groceries left and the utilities were turned off.  Sex on an empty
stomach with no heat in the loft could be less than enjoyable.  Loft,
hell... room at the local boarding house...

     "Okay, Chief, what's going on in there?"  Jim tapped on Blair's
temple with a couple of fingers.

     "Just a whole bunch of random thoughts."

     "You're worrying again.  I can feel it.  You're all tensed up. 
Instead of being relaxed, you feel tight enough to snap in half."

     "I was just wondering what was gonna happen to us.  Where
we're going, what we're doing...what our options are like."

     "Must've looked pretty bleak, huh?"  Jim tugged on an arm. 
"Come on, come here."  Blair rolled over and they wound themselves
together, limbs twining, bodies snuggled together.  "It's going to work
out okay, Chief."  Jim slid a hand into Blair's hair and let his fingertips
massage the scalp lightly.  "We're going to be okay, baby.  It'll just take
us some time to find our niche, that's all."

     "You found your niche, Jim.  I'm the problem here."

     "I found my niche, and I'm in it right now--with you.  I can get
another job to pay the bills."

     "I'm not going to just sit at home and let you support us."

     "No, you're not.  But something'll come up for you, too.  We
just have to have a little faith and start exploring our options."

     "Thanks."

     "For what?"

     "For taking such good care of me...when we were making love. 
I know I was goading you to really drill me, and I was kind of
frustrated you didn't...but if you had..."

     "Sometimes we think we want something in the heat of the
moment..."  Jim shrugged a little.  "No big deal, Chief."

     "Yeah, man, it was a *very* big deal.  You were in the heat of
the moment too, and I was giving you permission to go nuts."

     "I wouldn't hurt you for the world, sweetheart."  Jim kissed
Blair's forehead.  "We'll work our way up to drilling," Jim added with a
smile in his voice.

     "All that practice is gonna be great."

     "Amen to that."  Jim let out a long breath.  "Hungry?"

     "And thirsty," Blair agreed.

     "Want to order pizza?"

     "I don't think I want to waste this day going out."

     "Me either."  Jim smiled down at Blair, then swooped on his
mouth, starting a long round of kissing that put food out of their minds
for several minutes.   

     When they made the decision, somewhat reluctantly, to get out
of bed, Jim led his partner downstairs, filled up a warm tub and told
him to relax in it while Jim took care of a couple things.

     Figuring the warm bath would be good for any residual achiness
Blair felt from before, Jim left him to soak there and went back
upstairs, tidying up the devastated bedroom.  He changed the sheets
and made up the bed, turning it back, figuring it would only be a matter
of time before it was in use again.  

     With the bed straightened up, Jim returned to the bathroom and
tossed his robe aside, moving Blair gently forward and sliding in
behind him, loving the fact the tub was too damn small, and they were
pressed together in the warm water.  He wrapped his arms around the
smaller body and slid down in the tub, giving Blair a human pillow on
which to rest while he soaked.  

     After soaking and then bathing each other, they moved out to
the couch, built a fire in the fireplace, and ordered the pizza.  It was
almost dinner time now, and while breakfast had been satisfying, they'd
used a lot of energy since then.  

     Pizza was consumed greedily, along with large quantities of
spring water and soft drinks (beer was deemed too likely to dull their
reflexes, and both wanted to be at their best for the last few hours of
their special day together).  Jim found a game starting on one of the
sports networks, and the evening seemed destined to be like many
others--the only difference being that both of them together only
occupied about a cushion and a half of the couch, and the plays they
missed weren't due to Sandburg sidetracking Jim with some elaborate
sociological theory, but because they periodically rediscovered the joys
of kissing and groping, only coming up for air and groaning when they
missed a really important moment.

     When they finally called it a night, Jim loaded up his famous
bowl from the kitchen with a wet washcloth and grabbed a towel out of
the bathroom.  No point in another long trek downstairs when there
was a naked Blair to be cuddled.

     The sky had let loose with a pounding rain, an occasional
rumble of thunder almost rattling the windows.  Tucked in their bed,
the two men kissed and caressed each other, Blair announcing it was
his turn to do the tasting and nibbling.  His touches were feather-light,
his licks and nibbles and little love bites were gentle, tuned to the
sensitivity of sentinel skin.  

     Jim relaxed into the mattress and let Blair dote on him, opening
up his senses to the feeling of the body hair again, and the long hair
from Blair's head skimming over his skin as the younger man laved and
suckled at his nipples, straddling him, aligning their cocks.

     Loving the sensations, Jim reached around and grasped two
handfuls of Blair's butt, massaging the rounded cheeks and pulling
Blair tight against him so their friction against one another became
unbearable pleasure.  Jim "fired the first shots" this time, with Blair
close behind him, collapsing on the bed, lying against Jim's side.

     "You and your washcloth.  I kind of like being stuck to you." 
Blair grimaced as Jim retrieved his cloth and cleaned them both off.

     "You wouldn't like it when I was wearing more of your belly
hair than you are in the morning after peeling ourselves apart."  Jim
kissed Blair's forehead.  "You're stuck *with* me, Chief.  But stuck
*to* me isn't all that great." 

     "I loved today," Blair said quietly, kissing the spot on Jim's
chest closest to his lips.

     "So did I.  I love *you*."  

     "Jim, I'm going to go in and tell Simon tomorrow that I'm not
going to finish the weapons training."

     "Okay, sweetheart.  You want me to go in with you?"

     "Yeah, just so he knows we've talked it all through and that
you're okay with it."

     "Okay."

     "Are you?"

     "You know I am, Chief.  I want you to be happy--and I want you
to be comfortable with what you're doing.  If being a cop isn't it, we'll
just have to keep looking until we find out what is."

     "You really love *me*, don't you?"  Blair smiled against Jim's
chest, and the arm around him tightened, Jim's hand rubbing Blair's
shoulder.  

     "You don't see anybody else in this bed, do you?"

     "I meant it would have been real easy for you to push me into
being something you wanted me to be.  You're letting me be me
without judging me.  That's a really special gift, Jim.  Only somebody
who really loves you, loves you just the way you are, even when that
way is a pain in the ass sometimes."

     "You're never a pain in the ass, Chief.  Never," Jim repeated
softly, thinking how in those brief, horrific moments when Blair had
been pronounced dead, none of the little things that annoy a person
about another mattered in the least.  They all vanished, replaced by
nothing but love, and the overpowering desire to have Blair back, alive,
healthy and as endearingly annoying as ever.  "Hey, we've got an early
call tomorrow, baby.  Try to get some sleep, huh?"

     "Yeah, I'll need it to take Simon on," Blair said, grinning a
little.  "He's going to be so pissed, man."

     "Maybe, but he'll understand.  Blair, not everybody wants to be
a cop.  I really admire the fact that you're taking it seriously enough to
have your doubts and misgivings now, and to act on them.  Because to
go into the field and freeze up in a life and death situation would be...
irresponsible to put it mildly, when you knew it was a danger going in. 
I mean, even the best cops can freeze up, but if you really know in your
heart that you can't pull the trigger on someone, law enforcement is the
wrong career path."

     "I know I could do what I had to do to protect you.  I'd kill or
die for that in a heartbeat.  But for any other reason...I just don't know."

     "Let's tell Simon we're putting it on hold for a while, that you're
having some second thoughts.  Don't close the door on it.  If he knows
it's a personal thing you need to work through before trusting yourself
on the street, he won't want to rush you.  And you're not in Academy
classes anyway.  I know your instructor's a real asshole, but I hear that
in exchange for certain sexual favors, he's been known to extend
deadlines."

     "Really?"

     "Yeah.  He has a real weakness for guys with long hair and
great asses."

     "So if I put out for him, he'd, like, let me off the hook for a
while?"

     "Definitely."

     "I'll have to think of just the right bribe for him then."

     "You do that, Chief."

     "'night, love."  Blair closed his eyes and let out a long, relaxed
sigh.  Jim hooked a finger under his chin and pulled Blair's face up,
kissing him thoroughly.  

     "'night, sweetheart."  Jim felt himself dozing off as he stroked
Blair's hair, lulling the other man into the realm of dreams right along
with him.

********