Ever have one of those days when nothing seems to go right? Yeah, yeah, like Mondays. Mondays are hell on the psyche. I think Mondays were invented by the Marquis de Sade. But I digress....

You know how they say everyone in the world has a double. No, not an evil twin. That's a product of Hollywood B-movies. Well, okay, some of those are fun, but that's--

Shit, I can't even keep my own interior monologue on topic here. Racing thoughts, pressured speech, rambling but not completely disorganized. Oh, fuck. I sound like an undiagnosed manic-depressive. Now how did that happen? I've been in therapy for more years than I care to remember. How could they miss this?

Or... is it just me? My personality, I mean. I'm a patchwork of defense mechanisms, thrown together to protect what's left of my self-esteem. Oh, I know, I come across like an arrogant little weasel sometimes, ready to hump just about anything that moves... I'm still trying to live up to (or is it down to?) that tableleg remark that Jim made.

But damn... Grrrr! I don't deserve this. I truly don't.

What is it that I don't deserve, you ask? I'm wearing out your patience, aren't I? I knew it. Jim's the only one who can put up with me for any length of time, and even he seems strangely exasperated lately.

It's just--It's like a fucking remake of Invasion of the Bodysnatchers. I walked into the lecture hall at Rainier this morning, and there he was....

Bold as brass. This, this guy was getting ready to teach my class. I mean, what a set, huh? Where does he get off teaching my students anything? No one notified me about this. I... did... not... get... the... fucking... memo.

What am I? Grilled cheese? This sucks, man. It totally sucks. Okay, he doesn't look like my identical twin. For one thing, he's got dark brown eyes. But the rest, the hair, the earring, the way he talks is so me. Much more me than when David Lash tried to be me.

He wasn't good at being me at all.

So let me in on the secret. Am I supposed to sit in my office and eat my lunch like nothing happened? Is there an explanation out there? Do I really want one? Have I been replaced? And what if... what if he is a better me than me?

What will Jim think? What if Jim likes him better? What if Jim kicks me out and says, Hey, Sandburg, it's been swell, but that week turned out to be about three years too long?

Oh, my God....

It's a teacher's worst nightmare. Substitutes aren't supposed to take over. What's going to happen to me?

********

Blair Sandburg sat at his desk and watched the phone. Ring, dammit, ring, he told the phone. When his class was so inexplicably taken over by The Substitute, (yes, Blair capitalized the little fucker's name in his head), Blair paged Jim Ellison, his partner in every which way but one. One significant way. Contrary to popular thought at the Cascade P.D., they were not lovers. Though it wasn't for lack of desire on Blair's part.

He might be at a loss to explain how he would ever manage to publish his dissertation without exposing Jim's secret, but he knew other things, more important things. Things like he loved Jim. Beyond the call of duty... love. Beyond the call of friendship... love. In love-type love. How did Jim feel about him? He was Jim's little buddy. God, how he hated being defined that way. Like he was a fucking puppy to be patted on the head from time to time. Nice doggie. Now lie down. Roll over. Oh, fuck, he was getting hard. Down, boy.

The phone finally rang. "Jim?" Blair called breathlessly.

"Yeah, Sandburg. What's the problem? Is something wrong?"

Resisting the urge to say, Hell, yeah, everything is wrong, my entire fucking life is wrong, Blair settled for a heartfelt sigh.

"Uh-oh, Chief. That doesn't sound good. What's up, buddy?"

Blair winced. Then he explained, winding down with, "So I've been replaced. By The Substitute."

"Can they do that, Chief? I mean, I know you don't have tenure, but can they just put in a sub without telling you?"

"I--uh, I didn't ask."

"You called me before you even talked to Administration? Where are your brains today, Chief? In your ass?"

Blair closed his eyes at the mention of his ass. The only image that conjured up was Jim... inside him... pounding away for a fare-thee-well. He opened startled blue eyes a moment later, abruptly realizing that his libido seemed determined to race out of control, even as his life seemed to disintegrate around him.

"Have you even met this guy, Chief? Maybe he's a nice guy. Maybe you could talk to--"

"Nice guy? Nice guy, Jim? Who the hell cares if he's a nice guy, Jim? And why would I want to talk to him, for Pete's sake? My whole fucking life is falling apart here, Jim, and you're not helping."

"You're overwrought, Blair. Calm down," Jim said soothingly.

Which of course immediately backfired. "Overwrought? Calm down? You make me sound like the heroine of a Gothic novel, Jim! I'm not a fucking woman, and I'm not hysterical!"

On the other end of the phone, Jim pulled the receiver away from his ear. "You are, however, shouting, Blair. Glad to see you're not upset."

"Upset? Of course I'm fucking upset! Wouldn't you be?"

"Well, to be honest, Chief, I don't think there is another me anywhere in the area. What can I say? I'm irreplaceable," Jim said with a definite smile in his voice.

"Fuck you, Jim!" Blair hung up on his best friend and sat there, morosely contemplating whether or not a nice Jewish boy could enter the monastery. Nah, wouldn't work anyway, he'd get stuck doing penance for impure thoughts... and never accomplish another thing.

********

"Hi, I'm Hedy Lamarr."

Blair jerked awake and stared blearily through bloodshot eyes at the man standing in the doorway of his office. "Huh?"

The Substitute! It was him. In Blair's office. Blair blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. He needed to be alert for what followed.

He reached out to shake the other man's hand, idly noticing that The Substitute had a firm grip. "Sorry, didn't catch your name."

"I'm Terry McCoy."

"Blair Sandburg." But he must know that by now. How could he not be aware?

"You must be a very important person."

Blair immediately went on the defensive. "Why do you say that?"

The Substitute laughed. It was a joyous, carefree sound. Blair hated it.

"I never heard of a grad student, a TA at that, getting his own assistant."

"Excuse me?"

"You are tired, aren't you?" The Substitute shrugged his shoulders. "I'm taking over your classes."

All the moisture in Blair's mouth suddenly dried up. "You're what?"

"I'm taking over the teaching part of your position. So you have more time to devote to your research," The Substitute explained helpfully.

"But I love teaching!" wailed Blair.

"Oh, sure. Who doesn't?" The Substitute said dismissively.

Blair buried his face in his hands, and The Substitute gently rubbed his shoulder. Blair nearly jumped out of his skin at the feel of a complete stranger touching him so familiarly. Actually, it was even weirder than that. Though they were definitely not identical twins, they did resemble one another... strongly. Enough that they would be taken for brothers.

"I'm here to replace you, man. It's a good thing I came along when I did. You look seriously zoned."

Zoned? Did he know about--? Nah...he knew about one thing and one thing only. Being The Substitute.

********

Blair paced. It was a necessary outlet for all that nervous energy. He stopped, looked at his watch, swore loudly, and resumed pacing. Jim said he would be home on time. He promised.

"Where are you, Jim? Where the fuck did you go?" Blair muttered under his breath.

There was the sound of the key in the lock, and Blair jumped. Despite several attempts at meditation, he was no closer to feeling calm than before. The door swung open, and there stood the man of his dreams. "Jim!" he exclaimed rapturously, his delight in seeing the older man painfully obvious for a full second. Before Blair buried that feeling beneath the carefully-maintained facade of neutrality he wore around Jim these days.

"It's about time, man! I was just--"

"Blair, we have company. This is Terry McCoy. I believe you two met earlier today," Jim explained.

Blair couldn't get his mouth to close. He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. What was this, this Substitute doing in his home? All right, technically, it was Jim's home. But it was Blair's home, too. Wasn't it? Suddenly Blair's position seemed just as shaky at home as it was at the U.

"Hi, man," Terry said with a charming flip of his long brown hair.

Jeez, how long had he practiced that little gesture? He felt like throwing up. Only there was nothing in his stomach to throw up. Blair hadn't felt like eating all day. And this scene, as touching as it was, did nothing to improve things.

"You two have a lot in common," Jim offered, trying to get a conversation started. He didn't like the look on Sandburg's face.

"Yeah, we do," Blair agreed. My fucking job. My fucking friend. My... Jim. Shit, I swear I don't have a jealous bone in my body, but... I hate this!

The Substitute smiled warmly at Jim, and Blair's stomach roiled. A simmering look appeared on Blair's face, and Jim acted quickly to prevent things from degenerating into conflict. "I--uh, I invited Terry to dinner, Chief."

"You did, huh?" You two just met and you're already on a first-name basis with him? And where did you two meet anyway?

"Chief. Man, that's such a cute nickname."

Blair's blue eyes fairly glowed with animosity. Jim didn't think he had ever seen Blair take such an intense dislike to someone like this.

"Yeah, that's me, cute," Blair growled in a low, no-nonsense tone. I don't want to be fucking cute! I want to be loved. That way. By Jim. And trust me, there is no room in that scenario for you... dude.

"You're prolly wondering how the two of us got together," The Substitute said tentatively.

Not really. I just want to know how to separate the two of you.

"Jim came by Rainier and I was still in your office and he saw the back of my head and I guess he thought that I was you and then the cutest thing happened and...."

Jeez, did he sound like that? Mr. Run-on Sentence certainly didn't lack charisma. But he wouldn't know good punctuation if it jumped up and bit him in the butt. At least Blair sounded more articulate. He hoped.

"He put his arms around me. Couldn't you just die?" The Substitute giggled.

I wish you would, man. Would certainly make my life a lot simpler. And--shit, Jim put his arms around you? Jimmm... Blair wanted to wail.

Blair must have lost track of the conversation because to his utter amazement, Jim was suddenly asking, "So do you feel up to cooking, Chief? Or do you want to order something in?"

Feel up to cooking? What am I, an invalid? Order in? I don't think so. The less time spent in this simpering idiot's presence, the better.

"I'll just throw something together, Jim."

"Oh, you cook, too? You really are a darling!"

Blair gritted his teeth. Why hadn't The Substitute sounded so flamboyantly gay when they'd met earlier? Oh, no... maybe it was because he wasn't attracted to Blair. But he liked Jim.

Blair strode into the kitchen, resisting the temptation to flounce. He began banging pots and pans together, and eventually, dinner began to take some kind of shape. Too bad he wasn't a bit hungry.

Too bad he couldn't poison The Substitute. Okay, maybe homicide would be going a little too far. But a mild case of food poisoning? Come on, who would it really hurt?

Blair grinned at the thought, vaguely wondering just when he had become such a bloodthirsty little vigilante.

It felt good. Hey, if The Substitute wanted Jim, Blair would give him a run for his money. He had a history with Jim he could draw on. Even better, he had love. At least on his side. That had to count for something.

Seduction was something Blair understood.

He could do seduction.

********

Dinner was... well, odd. Jim, who was not much of a talker to begin with, kept trying to befriend Terry, which set Blair's teeth on edge. But since he had made his secret decision to fight fire with his own personal incendiary device, Blair's spirits had lifted. Slightly. He wasn't ready to do the Happy Dance, but if he could angle Jim into his bed, he would gladly don a tutu and perform Swan Lake. His legs weren't bad, and with his hair, he thought he could pass for Odile.

Blair hadn't given up on love. He just realized that if he wanted to win Jim's heart, he was going to have to start lower. Jim was a basic kind of guy. While he had never given him an indication that he might swing both ways, his reaction to The Substitute clearly showed an interest worth pursuing. If Jim was attracted to Terry, he could damn well give Blair first refusal.

After a quick rinse of the dishes, Blair walked over to where The Substitute was evidently trying his wiles on Jim. Tapping his foot impatiently, Blair counted to three before intrusively disrupting the conversation. "Nice meeting you, Ter. Too bad you have to run now. See ya round the U. Bye."

Jim stared at his partner in disbelief. Blair was rarely rude. Well, at least not intentionally. "Blair!"

"Jim!" Blair echoed in the same exact tone.

The Substitute apparently had delusions of grandeur because he was casting a covetous eye over Jim's buff body. "You must work out awfully hard," he said breathlessly. Muscles seemed to impress him to the point of non-speech.

Jim beamed. "Well, yeah. It's important for a cop to keep in shape. Gotta chase all those bad guys, y'know."

Blair rolled his eyes. Puh-leeze. Blair promised whoever might be listening Upstairs that he was willing to lick every inch of that well-toned body. If He (or She) would only give him a chance.

"Jim!" Blair squeaked. At Jim's curious glance, Blair coughed unobtrusively as if clearing his throat. "You have to get up really early tomorrow, remember?" he prompted.

"Uh... sure, Sandburg." Jim's light blue eyes darkened momentarily, and Blair had to wonder just what Jim was reacting to. Damn. He couldn't stand not knowing.

If Blair could have seen himself in a mirror, there would have been no doubt in his mind. His hair lay soft and tousled around his face and upon his shoulders. His eyes had turned that smoky blue color that they often got when he was aroused. If he had thought about it, he would have wanted to explore how Jim seemed to know so much about what Blair looked like when he was aroused.

Blair continued to push The Substitute out the proverbial door. Jim continued to look bemused. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. Blair was jealous. Of this poor sap who had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had never seen Blair work so hard. Visibly disturbed by Jim's supposed interest in Terry McCoy, Blair had no idea that Jim had long ago given up hope of impressing his Guide in the romantic sense.

When The Substitute was gone, Blair suddenly fell silent, a mass of conflicting emotions. Jim noticed his increase in tension immediately. "Chief, you seem a little agitated. You still upset over this guy taking on your classes?"

"Not really, Jim. I finally realized there were other things that I could do with that time." Blair hooked a long dark curl over his ear. To someone who didn't know Blair, the gesture might have seemed casual. But Jim knew that when Blair started playing with his hair, it was a telltale sign that he was anxious. But what did Blair have to be nervous about?

"Why don't we let the dishes soak while we catch the end of the game on TV, Jim?"

"Okay," Jim drawled in agreement, convincing himself that whatever Blair had in mind would compensate for the dishes not being washed right after dinner.

Once they were settled on the couch, Blair slid closer to Jim, ostensibly to search for the remote. But even after the remote was located, Blair persisted in pressing against Jim's thigh. "Um, Chief?" Jim could feel his control fading at an alarming rate.

"Yeah, Jim?" Blair turned to face his Sentinel, his full lower lip caught between his teeth. Jim had seen that look before, when Blair was in pursuit of a woman, but it had never been directed at him. Startled by the incredible intensity in those blue eyes, Jim forgot what he meant to say.

"I--"

"Jim, are you okay? You look--"

"How do I look, Chief?" Jim whispered.

Unable to take his eyes off Jim's face, Blair whispered back, "Like you want to eat me."

His lips curving involuntarily into a smile, Jim said, "Only you, Sandburg, only you."

"Only me what, Jim?"

"Only you could say something like that and get away with it. Anyone else would be flat on his back by now."

Blair blinked. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I don't know. What do you think I'm saying?"

"I'm... um... not sure, Jim."

"Well, when you're sure, Blair," Jim began, patting the back of Blair's hand affectionately. "You come see me."

"Where?" Blair croaked out.

"Upstairs, Chief. Where else?"

"That sounds like a fucking invitation, Jim," Blair said hoarsely, wondering why it took so much effort to get actual words to form in his mouth.

Jim gave the younger man a slow, sensual smile that Blair would have sworn Jim was physically incapable of doing. "Something like that, Chief."

"Jeez, Jim."

"Sandburg, you look stunned," Jim said dryly.

"I think I found the fucking pot o' gold at the end of the fucking rainbow, that's what I think, Jim."

"That good?"

"Hell, yeah."

********

Blair rubbed Jim's jeans-clad thigh, looking up with expectant blue eyes as the warmth of his hand slowly penetrated Jim's skin. Jim's lips parted spontaneously, and once again, Blair was caught by the force of his partner's almost-hypnotic gaze.

"Chief?" Jim asked, his hands sliding up and under Blair's hair to caress his neck.

"Yeah?" Blair had been so preoccupied with seducing Jim that when Jim began to respond, he lost track of what to do next.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

Blair's teeth tore worriedly at his lip. "Is that even possible?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Jim said, seized with apprehension at being able to touch Blair freely. The way he had wanted for what seemed like a lifetime.

"Oh, Jim," Blair said, his breath hitching. "Can I kiss you?"

"Chief, you have my permission to touch anything you want, as often as you want," Jim said fervently, his eyes unconsciously seeking Blair's mouth.

When Blair felt Jim's fingers in his hair, he shivered with anticipation. He was being so gentle. He must love me a little, Blair mused, hugging that thought to himself.

"Blair..." came Jim's whispered plea. "Where's my kiss?"

"Right here, man," came the reply. This was a moment that belonged solely to him. And to Jim. No interested parties need apply.

Blair had forgotten what it felt like to become lost in a kiss so tender, so achingly sweet, it took his breath away. Quite literally.

Their lips met, Jim letting Blair initiate all contact . Blair sighed happily as Jim opened for him, allowing him to discover just what treasures lay hidden within those depths. "Oh, man...."

"Chief, I--" Jim stopped, pulling away so abruptly, Blair felt bereft.

"What? What's wrong, Jim?"

"Is your... um... interest... strictly sexual, Chief?"

Blair dropped his eyes to his lap, where his burgeoning arousal struggled to free itself from the fabric that imprisoned it. "What do you mean, Jim?" he asked, deliberately circumventing the question.

"I mean... Chief...." Jim kissed him, harder and more aggressively than Blair had dared attempt. "Do you love me? Cause I can't do this without knowing if you do."

Blair twisted within Jim's embrace. "Of course I love you, Jim. We're best friends."

"That's not what I'm asking, Chief. Are you in love with me?"

Jim counted the specks of gold within Blair's blue eyes while he waited, telling himself all the while that it didn't really matter. Huh, who was he fooling? He didn't think he could take what Blair was offering... without love.

Blair whispered, "Is it all right if I am, Jim? I swear it won't change anything between us."

"Are you kidding? Chief, this changes everything."

Tears filled Blair's eyes, the wetness making them glisten and gleam like stars in a nighttime sky. "I'm sorry, Jim."

"What are you sorry about, Chief? I love you, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Then you're not going to start dating Terry McCoy?"

"Chief... imitation might be the sincerest form of flattery, but that guy has nothing on you. You..." Jim nuzzled Blair's nose affectionately. "You're the real thing."

Blair treated Jim to one of his brightest smiles, and Jim basked in his Guide's very special light. "Can we go upstairs now?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

********

Undressing each other took little time. Buttons flew off as eager hands grasped them, unable to wait the moment longer needed to manipulate them. Zippers were pulled down, releasing eager flesh. By the time they were both naked, their bodies were coated with a fine sheen of sweat.

Blair bent his head to Jim's chest, inhaling the scent of his perspiration. Jim tried to pull his head away, but Blair continued to sniff. "Chief... Blair, I must stink like a son-of-a-bitch."

"Mmm, no, you smell wonderful," Blair uttered dreamily.

As if to prove his point, Blair flicked his tongue out to capture one flat brown nipple, his tongue swirling in circles around the arrogant little nub. Jim groaned, and Blair smiled, secure in the knowledge that some things between men and women were not that different.

Eagerly worrying the nub until it was a finely chiseled point, Blair soon left it to work on its mate. Meanwhile, Jim barely managed to dial down his senses in time to avoid an imminent climax. Threading his fingers through Blair's hair, Jim closed his eyes and gave himself up to the sensation that was Blair.

Clutching Blair's errant curls, Jim arched his back as Blair's well-trained tongue made its way down the hardened length of his body. When Blair touched his groin, Jim gasped, a shard of arousal piercing him to the quick. Blair looked up, his heart in his eyes, and asked, "You want me to stop, Jim?"

Jim looked at the man who was about to become his lover and shook his head. "I don't want you to do anything you don't feel comfortable with, Chief."

"In that case...." Blair's voice trailed off as his mouth engulfed Jim's cock. Blair knelt between Jim's legs, his head bobbing back and forth as he swallowed enthusiastically. Releasing him for only a moment, Blair begged, "Fuck me, Jim. Fuck my mouth."

"Unh...," Jim could no longer talk, reduced to involuntary movements of the most erotic kind.

"Blair, stop, I'm going to come!" he called out, but Blair tugged at Jim's fingers, desire making it extravagantly easy to swallow every bit of the love Jim poured down his throat. His life essence tasted salty and bitter and totally like Jim. For that reason alone, Blair regretted nothing.

A smear of come trickling from the corner of his mouth, Blair stood up slowly, his legs unsteady under him. He looked intently into Jim's eyes, and Jim licked delicately at Blair's mouth at first, his tongue lapping in an ever-widening area to taste himself.

As they kissed, Blair slid his hand between Jim's legs, possessively cupping his still-moist balls. Jim could hardly believe his good fortune. He was hard again. So soon after Blair made him come.

"Oh, Blair... lie down, Chief."

Blair approached the bed not without a little excitement. The thought of Jim pouring himself inside him brought him dangerously close to the edge. He lay on his stomach, feeling his erect cock throb against the mattress. The urge to bring himself off, as quickly as possible, came and went.

He didn't care how long it took. He wanted to feel Jim there, inside him, hitting that spot that would make him scream his name at the moment he came. And he knew he would come soon. Just please let it be with him, Blair prayed.

Jim knelt on the bed behind him, nudging Blair's legs apart with his knees. His hands reached out to knead the creamy white flesh of Blair's buttocks, and he could hear him moan almost inaudibly as he slipped into a deeper state of relaxation.

Jim grabbed the tube of lubricant and applied the gel to his fingers. Within seconds, he slid a well-slicked finger inside Blair. "God, Jim...."

"Am I hurting you, Chief?"

"No... please don't stop."

Once Jim had finished preparing Blair's body for his assault upon it, Jim finally joined their bodies, stopping to savor the feel of his snug channel around his cock. "You feel so good, Chief."

"Oh, Jim, fuck me, please," Blair groaned, jiggling restlessly against the rigid erection buried deep inside him.

"Be right there, Chief." He began to move, hesitantly at first, afraid of hurting Blair, but Blair himself got beyond the initial burning sensation more rapidly than even he expected. As Blair started pushing backwards to meet Jim's thrusts, Jim pushed harder and deeper, feeling like his heart would seize at the moment of climax.

Blair came first, the feel of Jim throbbing deep inside him too much to withstand. Jim followed soon afterwards, hurtling over the precipice in search of his lover.

Blair reluctantly separated from his lover, rolling over onto his back to stretch expansively. A shit-eating grin transformed the younger man back into a satisfied adolescent in the throes of his first serious crush.

Jim braced himself on his elbows and looked lovingly into Blair's bright blue eyes. "I love you, Chief."

"Love you, too, man."

As if those were the only words he wanted to hear, Jim collapsed beside Blair, an arm flung over his face.

A moment later, Blair picked up a pillow and smooshed Jim in the face. "Hey! What's that for?"

"For making me sleep on the wet spot, man. How about a shower?"

"Together?"