"Man, it's good to get home again!" With Jim at his side, supporting him, Blair walked into the loft and looked around with obvious pleasure. "Home never looks better than right after getting sprung from the hospital."
Jim chuckled in complete agreement. "Yeah, but it's the couch for you, mister," he said, steering Blair over to the indicated piece of furniture.
"Aw, Jim. . . . I've been in bed for the last three days," Blair complained.
"You know the rules," Jim reminded him. "Complete bed rest for the next week. You can get up to pee, and that's it. You'll have your meals in bed, and if you get too smelly to stand, I'll give you a sponge bath."
"Be still, my heart," Blair said fervently, crossing his hands over his chest. He settled on the couch, allowing Jim to fluff pillows under him, and cover him with a warm throw.
Handing Blair the remote, Jim looked at him sternly. "Now, if you'll behave yourself for a few minutes, I'll go over to Flo's and pick up Laurene."
"Sir! I'll behave myself, sir!" Blair quipped, snapping off a mock salute.
"Smartass." Jim walked out of the apartment shaking his head and trying, unsuccessfully, to suppress a grin. He returned fifteen minutes later with an armful of squirming baby.
"I think someone's anxious to see you," he told Blair. Walking to the foot end of the couch, he began to place Laurene on the floor. "I want to show you something she started doing while you were off getting pregnant again." He dropped the tiny feet to the floor, leaning small hands on the coffee table. Letting go, he grinned triumphantly as the child began to scoot down the length of the table on two feet, braced by her hands on the table.
"Jim! She's cruising!" Blair reached out for their daughter when she reached the other end of the table, before she could turn the corner and head away. Laurene tentatively allowed her hand to be taken, and took a wobbly couple steps over to the couch where her proud daddy waited for her. "You did great, Muffin," he congratulated her.
"You know what this means, Jim." Blair turned to his partner. "We have to start baby proofing the house. You know, those little plug thingies for the electrical outlets, locks for the cabinet doors, put all the caustic cleaning stuff up high, or lock it away . . . turn the handles in on the cooking pots so she can't reach up and grab them . . ."
"Whoa, Chief. Whoa! Done." Jim smiled. Looking at the surprised face before him, he explained. "You're not the only one reading the baby books, you know."
"Can I hold her?" Blair asked, still holding two chubby little hands.
"Okay, but no lifting," Jim reminded him, picking up the baby and placing her in Blair's lap. "Comfortable?"
"She's getting heavy," Blair observed. "I'm okay," he added quickly when Jim made a move to lift her away.
"Just be careful," Jim said, hovering protectively. "You don't want that bundle of energy sitting on your stitches." He perched himself on the coffee table and leaned across the intervening space. "How's Papa's little girl?" he asked, tickling the baby's side.
Laurene giggled. "Papa," she said, then blew a big raspberry.
Blair nearly burst his stitches laughing. "Ow! Ow. . . !" he complained, trying to hold onto the squirming baby and place a hand over his aching mid-section at the same time.
Jim snatched Laurene from his arms, allowing Blair two hands to cradle his stomach.
"She's got you down pat," Blair said, still chuckling slightly.
"You just wait," Jim threatened. "Your turn's coming."
Blair blew a big, slobbery raspberry in Jim's direction, causing the small family to once again erupt into laughter.
Four days later:
Blair twisted and squirmed in the bed. "Jiiiiim," he called out plaintively.
"What is it now?" the beleaguered detective asked.
"I have to pee."
Jim climbed the stairs and lifted Blair into his arms. "You sure seem to have to pee a lot."
"Gets me out of bed," Blair teased.
"You're turning into quite the smartass, you know?" Jim set his lover down in the bathroom and stepped out, closing the door. "Call me when you're done."
"Jim?" The call came sooner than he expected.
Opening the door, he found Blair still standing in front of the toilet. "What'd ya need?" he asked.
"Can I stay downstairs? Maybe help you with dinner?"
"Are you kidding? What part of 'complete bed rest' don't you understand?" Jim asked, amazed.
"Have you got any inkling how boring it is?" Blair pulled himself back together and flushed the toilet. "You don't even let me walk in and out of the bathroom."
"You bet your sweet bootie I don't." He walked in and swept Blair up in his arms just as the younger man finished washing his hands. "How about a bath? That would be nice change of pace, right?"
Blair thought about it a minute, then agreed. "Sure. Sounds nice. Up in the bedroom?"
"That's the easiest. Then you can just roll over and take a nap." He began climbing the stairs with his precious load, slowly, so as not to jar him unnecessarily.
Once Blair was safely deposited back in bed, Jim returned to the bathroom to get the bathing supplies. He returned to their bedroom a few minutes later, towels and cloths over one arm, and a big bowl of water and some natural soap in his hands.
He set his supplies aside and helped Blair out of his t-shirt and boxers. The sight of Blair, naked on the bed, sent shivers up Jim's spine. It had been only a week since the implant surgery, but already he was feeling the sexual withdrawal symptoms. Clamping down on his emotions, he determined to get through this as professionally as possible.
He wet the cloth and began by gently wiping down Blair's face and neck. He washed the lightly-furred chest, swiping very gently at the extra-sensitive nipples.
Blair groaned. "Ahhhh . . . harder, Jim." He pressed Jim's hand down firmly on his breast. "Believe it or not, it hurts less with more pressure."
Jim scrubbed a bit harder, hearing Blair's groan turn to moans. He washed down the still-flat stomach, taking care with the stitches that were scheduled to be removed in another couple of days.
As he moved lower, he bumped into a firm column of flesh. Letting his eyes follow his hands, he found himself washing a very erect penis.
"Blair. . . ."
"Gosh, Jim. Just because I'm not allowed to have sex for three months, doesn't mean I've lost interest in it." He grinned a wolfish grin.
"You're bad, you know that? Really bad." Jim continued to wash the rigid column, moving lower to give Blair's scrotum equal treatment. He felt the firmness of the sac, and felt compelled to comment. "You know what Lynne said about orgasms stressing you this early in your pregnancy."
"Yeah, yeah, just get on with it," Blair hissed, enjoying the intimate touch far too much.
When Jim finally finished, he tucked the blankets under Blair's chin and kissed his forehead. "Think you can get a little sleep?"
"Maybe," Blair acknowledged, his body rocking slightly under the covers.
"Get those hands out here where I can see them," Jim ordered dryly. Blair complied with a slight blush. "I'm sorry if my bathing you aroused you, but you're going to have to let it die a natural death." He grinned. "Want me to stretch out here beside you until you go to sleep?"
"I don't think that's going to help," Blair replied, equally dryly.
Jim stood up and patted Blair's hip. "Okay, then. I'll be downstairs. Holler if you need me."
"I need you," Blair whispered under his breath, closing his eyes as he tried to sleep.
Three weeks later:
"Ohhhhh . . . man!" Blair sighed, kneeling over the toilet bowl. "I was hoping this time might be different."
Jim held Blair's hair with practiced ease as the young man heaved into the bowl once more. He finally collapsed on the cool tiles.
"I think that's it," he panted.
Jim wet a wash cloth and brought it over for Blair to clean himself up. "I think we'd better talk to Dr. Casey. You should get on the anti-nausea meds so you don't lose weight like you did with Laurene."
"Call her for me? I've gotta feel better by tomorrow night--it's Rosh Hashanah and I have to go to services."
"No way, Blair. The way you're feeling, you shouldn't be out of the house."
"Jim, you don't understand. Rosh Hashanah is the beginning of the Jewish New Year. It's our Day of Judgment. I've got to go to services and pray for a better year. I so do not want to go through what I went through with Laurene." Blair looked up from the floor, his eyes large and round.
"Oh, don't give me that look," Jim said disgustedly, turning away from the puppy dog eyes.
"Jim, it's important to me. I told you I felt drawn back to my spiritual roots after Laurene's birth. This is our time to repent and pray."
"I just don't think you should be going out," Jim argued.
"I've been penned up here for a month, the first two weeks of which I spent flat on my back. Come on, Jim. This is important."
"Let's call Lynne about the prescription. If she thinks it's okay for you to go out, you can go."
"It's a deal."
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