Work Text:
The Dream Series 1: Cowboy Dream
by Sara St Ives
Blair was sitting in Grandma's Cafe, drinking green tea, two creams, two sugars, eating Grandma's oatmeal raisin cookies and listening to Grandma and Cindy yammer on and on. 'I'm tired of Pseudo intellectuals, myself included' he thought, 'I keep hearing the same things, doing the same things (scary thought, what if we're not really here? What if we're really all just dreaming?)'
"Well, I am. This *is* a dream. Okay."
Grandma and Cindy were droning on, 12 step mutants. He supposed they got that way the first time they walked into a meeting. Both of them had been alcoholics since their teenage years, and neither of them wanted to be anything else but what they were. They were two women who were perfectly happy being unhappy. No big thing. There were a lot of people like that.
He just sat there watching the smoke from Grandma's cigarette spiral ceilingward and trying to decide if he should go back to the loft and go to bed. He supposed they were talking about toxic shame, communications, honesty, identifying feelings. He even heard something about a step.
How many more times was he going to have to have tea with the "intellectuals"?
He wanted something else.
War stories, sad stories, who's fucking who and he certainly didn't want to hear why they drank or if they were fucking the right people. He wasn't getting any from anybody! Especially not from the one he wanted it from!
Jim.
Jim could fuck him any day of the week and he didn't care who knew. He wanted him so bad he could taste him, but he was scared. Scared to say anything. Scared because Jim might not be too pleased at having his horny male partner coming on to him and telling him he was in love with him. Telling him he wanted an exclusive relationship with him.
Grandma and Cindy's sharp, effervescent voices outdid his reflections, and he sighed in annoyance.
God, he was tired of hearing those two come up with answers. Yeah. More green tea and bring more sugar when you get a chance. To hell with it. Sugar, dammit. He wanted sugar. In his dreams, he could have as much sugar as he wanted.
Then just when he thought he would scream if he actually had a mouth and a mind that functioned at the same time, in walked the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen.
It was his Sentinel. Jim. Wearing skin tight blue jeans and a western-type shirt and cowboy boots. Damn, he looked good enough to eat. And what was that on top of Jim's head? It was a cowboy hat! Damn-a-mighty! Talk about something so sexy you could just melt in your seat, that was the sight right there!
Jim walked to the table, touched his chin and Blair just sort of floated out of his seat and out the door with him. They walked out the door hand in hand, and when they reached the alley, they ducked in for a huge cowboy-sentinel/pseudo-intellectual guide hug.
Then Jim kissed him, and that kiss rocked his whole world. All the pieces fell into place. Everything made sense again.
Ten long, passionate kisses later, Jim pulled back from him and said with a strange Texas drawl, "I'll mosey on back to the loft, now. Soon as you're done with that green tea and them raisin cookies, you can come on up and join me for some serious fuckin'. Okay?"
Blair cleared his throat and nodded, tried to fix his hair, to adjust his clothing. "I'll be right there. I have to pay for my tea."
Jim winked at him and, with a sidling grin, meandered off into the sunset. Blair whooped and ran back into the cafe to gulp down the last of his green tea, nearly strangling on the inch of sugar at the bottom of the cup. He danced around with Cindy, then with Grandma and shouted excitedly, "Jim and me! *That's* who's fucking who!"
Grandma laughed and patted his cheek. "You go, boy!" she shouted back as he dashed from the cafe. "Ride 'em, cowboy."
Blair left her a five dollar tip and wondered if Jim owned any spurs.
end: Cowboy Dream