A Kiss At A Time

"You're what?" Jim said astonished, coffee cup halting midway on its flight up to his mouth.

"I'm pregnant," Lynn said calmly, voice and expression as blank as she could make it.

But her heart was pounding wildly and he could see the tiny beads of perspiration that were struggling to break free of the make-up caked at her hairline. Slowly putting the cup back down, eyes flicking down to it to hide what he was thinking, Jim hoped like hell she understood he needed a moment to absorb the impact of those words.

When he had accepted her invitation for dinner tonight, he had thought maybe she needed a little strings-free companionship, just as she had when they had dated a few months earlier. In fact, he had only asked her out that first time after overhearing her tell a colleague that the last thing she wanted after her divorce was another relationship, but god, she got lonely sometimes. It was exactly what he was looking for in a woman, even though Lynn wasn't his usual type, which Sandburg had once described as beautiful, long, lean, and deadly. Lynn was closer to his partner's height and she wore her dark black hair in an old-fashioned pageboy haircut that complimented her heart-shaped face and velvet brown eyes.

If she got some uncomplicated male company, he had gotten a woman who wasn't going to ask for what he couldn't give. It was an arrangement that had suited both of them perfectly and had allowed them to painlessly end their affair when she had healed enough to want a more serious lover in her life. It was rare for him to be able to part as friends with a woman, so he'd been more than willing to meet her for dinner when she called, and maybe make a visit to her place, if she were in the mood.

"I didn't do it on purpose," she said, pulling him back to the problem at hand, a trace of anger beginning to nibble at her composure. "You have to remember perfectly well that we used protection every time."

"And condoms have been known to fail," he said as gently as he knew how, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "What do you want to do, Lynn? I'll do everything I can for you, no matter what your decision."

Tears brightened her eyes for a moment, and she pressed her fingertips into her lids, muttering angrily, "Damn hormonal water works - just when you need to be at your rational best, they start dripping every where." Determinedly she dropped her hands, one going to her lap and the other nervously playing with her coffee spoon. "To be truthful, I was so prepared for you to either turn stone cold with rage or stomp out of here in a black fury, I didn't think about what to say if that gentle soul of yours surfaced first."

He didn't bother to deny either the possibility that he could have acted like an asshole or what that behavior usually hid. Truth was Jim didn't know himself why compassion had beat out his worse side, except maybe because of the simple fact she was pregnant. Once he'd known to look, the subtle signs were there - a change in her scent, a softness in her waist, around her eyes - and a purely male, thoroughly sentinel, urge to protect took charge of his emotions.

Capturing her trembling hand with long fingers over the back of it, he said, "I'm pro-choice, but if you're not, I'm not going to pressure you to do something you feel is wrong."

Lynn half-laughed, half-sobbed, "I thought I was pro-choice, too, but now that it's time to make that choice, I don't know. I just don't know."

"About the only thing I can't agree to," Jim said, choosing his words as carefully as he could, "Is to sign away my rights completely. If you want to give the baby up for adoption, I'll agree only if there's a way he can find me if he wants, when he's older. Which means his new parents and I have to know each other's name, at the very least."

"Does that mean you'll marry me if that's what I want?" Lynn asked, clearly astonished.

"I'm hoping like hell you'll see what a mistake that is, but, yeah," Jim said honestly. "It might be easier to go that route if you want to give birth, but don't want to give up the baby. He'll get my name and benefits and what-have-you without a lot of legal hassle. Only thing is, when we divorce, I don't want to try to share custody; one of us gets full custody. In the long run, I think that's better for the kid than having a weekend parent. I won't be deadbeat dad, and I won't be a stranger either, but my visits will be at his choice, not mine or yours. Same thing goes if I'm the one raising him; he decides if he wants to know you."

"When," Lynn murmured to herself, probably thinking her voice was too soft for him to understand her words. "Not if, when. Never going to let anyone touch what you've got under wraps inside you, are you, Jim?"

He pretended not to hear, pretended that the soft accusation wasn't as painful as it was accurate. If he had ever known how to willfully drop the barriers between himself and others, Jim honestly didn't remember. The best that he'd ever been able to do is to not put up a fight when a lover or a friend did their best to breach the odd vacuum that seemed to surround his heart and soul. It made for an empty life, at times, but at least the friends he had managed to keep were the best any man could ask for.

When she pulled her hand free, he knew somehow that she had made her decision, though she clearly wasn't ready to admit it to him. Or maybe to herself; he wasn't sure. She smiled wanly, but before she could dismiss him completely, Jim said quietly, "I don't know what kind of parent I would make, Lynn, but I'd do my goddamn best for the baby. If nothing else, I know what *not* to do."

"I know that," she said slowly, as if looking down deep inside herself. "And somehow, that makes things worse. There's still a few weeks before I have to make up my mind; I'll let you know as soon as I do." She stood quickly and left, head averted to hide the fresh tears he could smell, along with a fear/pain scent he had never caught on her before.

Feeling like a complete heel, but not knowing what he could have said or done differently, Jim paid the bill and left, wishing she had given him her news before the meal. His dinner was sitting like a rock in his stomach, and the old, too-familiar feeling of being slightly out of step with the rest of the universe was dogging his every thought.

***

Distraction is bad news for a cop and even worse news for a sentinel. Though Jim tried his best to shove Lynn's condition below the level of his mind where he had to think about it, at odd moments he found himself worrying about her and wondering about the tiny scrap of life she carried. He would have liked to have said that his feelings about it were loving, if not paternal, but confusion would have been a much more honest assessment.

Unsurprisingly, a few days later Jim zigged when he should have zagged and his punishment was what would have been a face full of pepper spray if it weren't for the fact that his partner moved as fast as he talked. A good shove had sent the irate girl friend of the bank robber they were busting to the ground, but not before she coated Jim's left arm with the sentinel-toxic shit. Even through his shirt, it felt like he'd been splashed with acid, but he locked his jaw against the pain and finished putting the handcuffs on before letting Sandburg wash him down.

They couldn't risk going to the hospital, not with their lives still under the microscope in a million different ways, so Jim had just hung on, like he had so many times in his life, and got on with it. By the time they made it to 852 Prospect Street, he knew the skin under Sandburg's improvised bandage was in bad shape, and all he wanted to do was crawl in a dark hole somewhere until it healed. Since that wasn't a possibility, he concentrated on making it to the loft, sourly amused that the elevator was down on a day when he needed not to have to make the three flight climb of stairs.

Blair hovered next to him, thankfully not talking, but looking very much as if he wished Jim would just lean on him a little to spare them both the agony of his need to help. The ironic thing was that Jim wanted very badly to do just that; to drape his good arm over those surprisingly sturdy shoulders and let his partner take care of him. But the stubborn pride that his father had planted and the Rangers had cultivated literally wouldn't let him; too many times it was the only thing that got him up that proverbial three flights of stairs. Too many times it was Blair's life that depended on him making the climb, so Jim didn't fight with his pride. He just slogged up the damned steps.

In his own convoluted way, Sandburg had come to understand that, even come to terms with it with something very like grace. Hence his partner's own tight-lipped acceptance of their trek and the patience he exercised while they did. The moment they were through the door to the loft, though, Blair hustled him into a chair at the table, unceremoniously ripping away the bandage and hissing sympathetically at what he saw underneath.

"I'm going to lavage the area again," Blair said shortly. "Then let it air dry before putting that aloe cream that we've been using for your injuries on it."

Not able to unlock his jaw enough to talk, Jim nodded tightly, and allowed himself to drift with the motes of dust in the air while his partner hurried efficiently through his self-appointed task. Unashamedly using the pain-control techniques Blair had taught him, he endured the second cleaning, then sighed in relief as the burn slowly subsided, leaving only the odd, itchy ache of the filling poison ivy-like blisters. "Got it all this time," he said quietly, looking over the skin himself to double check.

"That," Blair said trying for light and sounding grim, "Deserves a beer or three while it dries."

"Your prescription beats the hell out of a doctor's," Jim said, succeeding in being flippant.

With an inelegant snort, Blair told him what he thought of that and went into the kitchen, detouring on the way to hit the answering machine. Among the usual messages left by women confirming or changing dates with his partner was one left by the hospital out-patient surgery desk asking if Detective Ellison could call back to reschedule his vasectomy. Sandburg stopped mid-step, stared at machine for a moment, then continued his trip back to the table, walking more slowly.

The snarly pain in his arm made Jim want to snap at his partner before he even opened his mouth, but he was way past pretending that Blair didn't have a right to be interested in his affairs. So he said as reasonably as he could manage, "Been thinking about it for a while; finally got off the dime and decided to actually do it."

Nodding as if he could understand how much consideration the decision took, Blair sat, put down the beers, and said, "Got some wigglers frozen in a sperm bank somewhere? For a guy it's not a bad back-up in case you reconsider some where along the way."

"Won't change my mind," Jim said firmly. "Hell, I'm over forty now. No way do I want to be thinking about putting a kid through college when I'm on social security."

"Still, you might meet someone." Hesitantly, Blair added, "And there's the sentinel genes to think about; they shouldn't just vanish from the pool."

Shortly, Jim said, "Stevie can carry them on, then. I'm *not* going to do this to a child, Sandburg!" He waved at his inflamed arm, fought for control, and said more reasonably, "The modern world isn't designed for a child with the senses; most days I barely get by. I can't and won't risk inflicting them on an innocent."

"Jim, the genes for it have to be pretty damned recessive," Blair argued quietly. "And you'd make a great dad."

Digging his fingers into the back of his neck, Jim reluctantly confessed, "Between the cop thing and sentinel thing, I don't see how, but I might get the chance to find out anyway. Remember Lynn Welsh?"

"You dated her for a few months at the beginning of the year," Blair answered, understanding beginning to dawn. "She's pregnant? What's she going to do?"

"I left the ball pretty much in her court, told her I'd back any move she wanted to make, any way she wanted me to back it," Jim said.

"Wow. And if she wants to get married?"

"Then I'll make it legal, though I won't wear her ring or share my home with her," Jim answered off-handedly. "The only circumstance I won't stand for is her letting the baby vanish into the adoption system. At the very least I need to know where he winds up so I can keep a discreet eye on him to make sure he didn't inherit the senses."

Reaching for the aloe cream to finish treating Jim's arm, Blair said thoughtfully, "You're really worried about this, aren't you? About a child of yours being a sentinel."

Puzzled that he needed to even ask, Jim said, "Any kid deserves better than that."

For a moment there was only silence, then, to his own surprise, Jim broke it first, asking quietly, "If he does have the senses... Chief, would you consider being his teacher? Maybe if he's got you with him from the start he'll have a chance at good life, maybe even be happy." He didn't dare look at his partner to see his reaction, but the leap in heartbeat said that the question had caught Sandburg off guard. Hoping to convince him, he said, "It's a big commitment, I know, and I don't know how we'd swing it, but..."

"We'll think of something," Blair broke in, voice suspiciously shaky. Then it firmed, and he went on evenly, "If we have to. In the meantime, the whole question is moot until Lynn makes up her mind. You going to tell her about the sentinel thing? It's, ah, a factor she needs to be able to weigh in with everything else."

"Shit, I hadn't thought of that." Jim took a long swallow of his beer. "I better call her and see if she'll talk with me."

"Want me to come along to help explain things?" Blair didn't look up at him as he asked, but kept his gaze solidly on the work his fingers were doing, head bent as if he were afraid for his partner to be able to read his expression.

Wondering why that was, Jim said, "Appreciate the offer, but I don't think Lynn would; she's my responsibility anyway." Blair wiped his fingers clean, then put the cap back on the tube of aloe. Flexing his arm experimentally, Jim stood to go make his call, stopping on the way to lightly touch him on the shoulder. "Thanks, Chief."

They both knew it wasn't just for the first aid.

* * *

Wondering what it was about hospitals that made him want to tiptoe like a child, Jim knocked gingerly on the door to Lynn's room, then went in at her quiet call to come in. She looked terrible; gray and thin against the blinding white of her bed linens and somehow insubstantial as if simply being ill robbed her of some of her presence. Despite that she had a small smile for him and willingly reached out to take his offered hand.

"Hi," he said softly, not bothering to fake cheer for her. "Didn't anybody tell you hospitals are bad places to use your time off?"

"Does wonders for a woman with an over-developed sense of personal modesty, though," she quipped. "I think I've had more people look at my naked body than a stripper at Filthy Joe's." Abruptly she lost her attempt at good spirits and said, "I asked my doctor to call you and explain. Do you understand what happened to the baby?"

"Ectopic pregnancy," Jim said. Then to let her know that he *did* understand, he added, "The fertilized egg didn't make it to the womb and implanted in a fallopian tube instead, which meant that the tube was trying to expand enough to hold the developing embryo. It wasn't made for that and would have burst, more than likely killing you in the process. He told me that they caught it in plenty of time, though, and that the other ovary and tube is fine."

Smiling again, this time a little more watery, Lynn said, "Way to get the whole problem taken out of our hands, huh?"

"Not the way I would have picked." Gingerly Jim touched her tummy with his free hand, just over where he could see the bandages for the surgery. "It doesn't seem quite right to lose him like this, no matter what you'd decided."

Turning her face away, hiding it under an arm, she took several long, hard gulping breaths. After a moment she murmured, "I should have returned your calls and told you that I'd made an appointment to end the pregnancy, but you know, I wasn't sure if I was going be able to go through with it."

Forcibly keeping anything even remotely sounding like accusation out of his voice, he said, "You didn't have to go through that on your own."

"I think I was deliberately putting it off to the last second," she confessed. "Like I hadn't really decided yet as long as we didn't talk."

Jim tried to smile at her, but this time it felt forced. "It's okay. You don't owe me anything, you never did. I'm glad that you wanted to include me at all; a lot of women wouldn't have."

"There are times, Jim," she said, sounding both wistful and tired, "When I wish I could have met you in younger, happier days. You would have made a good friend, once the lust burned off. We're both too burned by bad lovers to do that now."

Responding to the sadness, he said, "Maybe when we get to the age where an old friend is more important than old wounds, we can do that."

"No, I don't think so." She came out of hiding from beneath her arm and pushed the button that lifted the head of the bed up, grimacing as it moved her. "I've had enough of Cascade's wonderfully duck-happy weather. My mother lives in Arizona; I'm going to go stay with her for a while and decide what I want to do and where I want to do it. It might be here, but I really don't think so."

"Do you good to sit in the sun for a while and soak up some rays," he said agreeably, for lack of anything better to say. Then, feeling uncomfortable and boxed in, he fell back on the excuse he had prepared for just this contingency. "Look, I've got Sandburg waiting for me down in the truck; we've still got some witnesses for one of our cases to track down before we can call it a day. I went ahead and let your landlord know you were in the hospital; he's collecting your mail for you. And I had your car towed to its usual spot in your building's garage, couple of other things like that that needed taken care of. Hope you don't mind. When you need a ride home from the hospital, all you have to do is call."

"No, I don't think I will," Lynn said. "It's okay that you did you what you do best: try to take care of someone who needs it. But this is the last time I want to see you. Right now all you do is remind me of what could have been. I'm sorry to drag you through it like this, but it's true that when you hurt bad enough, you can't help but hurt everybody else around you. At least I can stop the hurting between us here."

More than halfway expecting a kiss off and vaguely grateful that she did it with quiet dignity, Jim bent and brushed his lips over her forehead. "You haven't done anything to me that you need to apologize for. And you would have made a great friend, Lynn." Not giving her a chance to say anything else, he made a break for it, pretending he didn't hear when her soft sobs started before the door was all the way shut.

The sound followed him all the way down to the visitors parking lot and because of it, he threw open the door to the truck with more force than he meant, startling the hell out of Sandburg. He threw himself into the driver's seat, ramming the key into the ignition at the same moment he slammed the door shut. The subdued rumbled of the engine and his partner's aural signature cut off the haunting echo of Lynn's tears, and he relaxed fractionally, pulling out of the parking space without flooring the accelerator but leaving rubber behind nevertheless.

Though wide-eyed, Blair didn't say a word, but simply closed his book and braced himself as best he could for a wild ride. Once Jim got a few miles from the hospital, he was able to rein in the biting need to be some place else, *any* place else other than in Cascade, and he slowed down to a reasonable speed, automatically obeying the silent commands of traffic lights and road signs. He didn't turn around to go back toward the loft, though, but instead put himself on a wide, looping road that almost completely circled the city before ending at the harbor a few miles from home. It led up into the hills, playing hide and seek with the lights of Cascade as it first climbed, then rambled back down, and was mostly deserted except for the few hardy souls who had homes scattered along its twisting length.

Mercifully the hills muffled the normal noise of the city, and the prevailing breezes kept the stink of Cascade down to a minimum. The meandering drive was as close as Jim could come to escaping into the clean, natural world of forest and meadow without actually abandoning his post, and he'd made this particular trek more than once since his senses invaded his life. It was the first time he'd brought Sandburg with him instead of dropping him off, though, and for a moment he wondered why. Blair had never been an intrusion on the many camping trips they'd taken together, and his partner understood, almost instinctively, when quiet was what he needed most.

In fact Sandburg's presence with all his well-known, thoroughly catalogued sensory nuances, was calming Jim far more than he expected for where he was on the road. And his verbal silence was inviting, not oppressive or demanding, allowing Jim to feel as if talking about what was ...bothering... him wasn't a big deal. For a moment he fought against pulling Blair into this mess with him, but in a way he already had, and his partner deserved to know what was going on because of that.

Spotting a turn-around heavily cloaked by trees, he pulled off and tucked the truck into the shadowed haven, turning off the engine and listening to the quiet ticks and tocks of the cooling motor for a long time. His vision adjusted automatically to the gloom, but he crossed his forearms over the steering wheel to lay his head on, and shut his eyes, not wanting to see even that much of the world. Beside him Blair sat patiently, shivering a little as the temperature in the cabin of the truck dropped, and when it seemed to Jim that his partner was getting seriously uncomfortable, he shrugged off his jacket and laid it around Blair's shoulders.

"She lost the baby, had to have surgery," he said as he leaned back in his seat, eyes still closed. "There's a chance she could have others, maybe, later on, but right now that's not much comfort to her."

"That sucks, man," Blair murmured, barely loud enough for even Jim to hear.

"The big hairy one, as we used to say as kids," Jim said with a snort of bitter amusement.

"Lynn handling it okay?"

"'Bout as you'd expect." He hesitated and added, "She said she'd decided to have an abortion, but I guess it makes a difference to a woman whether or not losing a baby is her idea."

"From what I've read," Blair said uncertainly, "Even when it's a choice there's a, a, mourning period. A feeling of loss and regret."

Turning to look at him at that, Jim said wearily, painfully, "It's okay to mourn what was only a promise of being a person? To miss what was only a could-have-been?"

"I think so, anyway." Shifting uneasily in his seat, Blair went on. "Don't we mourn other things that might have been - the road not taken, the opportunity we didn't see or gave a pass on?"

"There is that." The words barely made it out through a throat so tight Jim honestly thought that he'd choke if he tried to say more. He tried to suck in a deep breath to help loosen things up, but when he exhaled, it came out carrying a barely audible gasp of sorrow and loss. A tear began to trickle down his cheek, and he told himself that it was too dark for anyone to see it, so it didn't count, he wasn't losing it, he was only giving the only thing he could to the child, the children, he would never touch or see.

Blair was there, of course, part of the comforting darkness that surrounded him, the part that was warm and solid as he fit himself under Jim's arm, twisting so that he sat on one hip with his back to the windshield. He wound his arms around Jim's waist and put his head in the middle of his chest, hugging hard. That subtle weight was enough to free the air cramping up inside of Jim, and he let go of it with a low moan of pain that seemed shamefully loud in the small space. He started to fight the next one, but then Blair whispered, "It's *okay,* Jim. Maybe this is why God gave us night."

Permission granted to cry, he discovered he didn't need it as much, and only a few more tears silently fell before all that was left was a heavy ache that would take a long time to fade away. Surreptitiously he raised a hand to wipe away the wetness on his face so that he could start to move on, but Blair's square-tipped fingers beat him to it, their calloused pads offering a strange benediction with their gentleness. It felt right, and he leaned into the touch, letting his face rest in the cupped palms of his partner.

When the last of the dampness was gone and he felt that he'd lingered as long as was polite in Blair's care, Jim started to pull away, but Blair didn't allow it. Instead he tightened his hold enough to keep him in place, then covered Jim's lips with his own in a chaste, loving kiss that wasn't any less shocking for all its innocence. Too startled to move, too enthralled by how soft and sweet his partner's mouth was, Jim passively accepted the intimacy, unable to think, let alone react intelligently.

Finally, with a sigh that reverberated inside Jim, Blair released him, though he only moved far enough away for them to be able to look into each other's eyes if the gloom had permitted. Stupidly Jim said, "I'm not gay. I'm not even curious."

"I've been curious, but I'm not gay, either. Where we're concerned though, Jim, I think maybe you should just take words like that and throw them out the window. They just don't work with what we have, with what we *are.*"

Licking his lips and realizing that was mistake because Blair's flavor lingered there, Jim argued, "Look, I do love you, but it's not that kind of love."

"Then what kind is it?" Blair asked calmly. "You asked me to raise your child with you. You wouldn't share your home or your life with his mother; it didn't even occur to you to ease me out to make room for her. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that's not how most people prioritize their life."

"That doesn't mean I'm ready... that I want... that we should...." Jim grabbed the urge to splutter and fume with both hands, metaphorically speaking, and shook it hard. "I don't see that as a reason to change sexual orientation," he finally said in a sensible tone of voice.

"No, it's not," Blair said, equally sensibly. "It is a reason to think about how we're spending our lives. Do you really want to go on choosing your dates by how whether or not they'll want more from you than dinner, companionship, and maybe sexual relief? Aren't you tired of leaving a woman's bed to come back to our home, feeling a little dirty and a little guilty because once you've gotten your rocks off, all you can think of *is* being home where you belong?"

"I've tried reaching for more," Jim said tightly, grateful that the night hid how close to the mark his partner's words were hitting. "In case you haven't noticed, it's been a total disaster. Only an idiot would keep looking for that kind of abuse."

As if the darkness didn't make the slightest bit of difference, Blair gently stroked over Jim's forehead, soothing the lines of pain he'd caused. "So maybe you should look for something different. For someone who's already been through it with you." He paused, then stretched up so that he could touch his forehead to Jim's. "I don't want to see you hurt any more; *I* don't want to hurt any more. I'm sick of being with a woman and wondering about where you are, what you're doing. *I* don't want to come home, guilty and dirty, because I wasn't where I belonged."

With a tired sigh, Blair kissed him again, this time with the faintest hint of the curiosity he'd mentioned in the careful caress. It was only a tiny tap of tongue to the bow of Jim's upper lip, as if he wished he could slip past them for a deeper taste; with a barely discernable reluctance he broke it and scooted back to his side of the truck. "Look, we've got lots of experience ignoring or working past stranger stuff than a few kisses shared in the dark. If you want to make like this never happened, no problem. But I hope you'll at least ask yourself where you want to be and with who, say, twenty years from now."

//Pretend it didn't happen; yeah, right, like I'm going to be able to do that,// Jim thought to himself, moving in slow motion to get the truck started again. //Like I'm going to be able not to think about if twenty years from now you'll still be contentedly living in a former closet under the stairs.//

He drove straight for home, neither of them saying a word on the way, but the silence sat as comfortably between them as it always had. Jim didn't worry about having to fend off unwanted passes or deal with a love-sick nuisance; Blair had loved him a long time without wanting or needing more than they had. He didn't think the evening's strange turn would hurt their partnership or their friendship. It was, however, going to wreck his peace of mind and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

* * *

The days passed like they always did, filled with criminals, crime scenes, lawyers, courts and paperwork. At odd moments Jim would find himself thinking about Lynn and wishing the best for her. At odder ones he would stop in his tracks, the memory of Blair's lips on his, of the heavy, but not unpleasant weight of him against his body, so strong that those tender kisses might have happened only a moment ago.

Without conscious decision he quit dating, once stopping himself from asking literally as the words were forming in his mind. It was actually something of a relief, and the free time created by the giving up the search for feminine company was a gift he had never expected. Life became less rushed, more pleasurable in many ways, not the least of which were the leisurely hours he spent with Blair, Simon, his brother and other people he usually had to squeeze into his day.

He noticed but carefully didn't comment on the fact that Blair's social life suddenly was reduced to close friends as well. That made sense, somehow; that his partner would prove he meant what he said by giving up women until Jim came to terms with the changes in their lives Blair wanted. It also said a lot to Jim when no one particularly noticed the difference in how much time he and his partner spent together.

One evening in the middle of the gracefully choreographed dance that was the two of them making dinner together, Jim stopped mid-slice of a tomato for salad and asked, "What about children for you, Chief? I mean, if you're going to be with me, that kind of precludes ever making Naomi a grandmother."

"For which she will be very grateful," Blair said lightly. At Jim's glare, he said more seriously, "I made the decision not to be a father a while back, even before we met. Stashed some sperm in a couple of different banks and then had the snip-snip operation myself." For a scant second, barely long enough for Jim to be sure of what he'd seen, his partner's expression became very grim. "I didn't want to take the chance of a woman not being as...considerate as Lynn was."

It was to date the only overt evidence Jim had that Blair's bastard status meant more to him than a plentitude of men trying to earn the favor of Naomi's son. Taking the rare glimpse into his partner's heart for the gift it was, Jim said neutrally, "I don't like the idea of not knowing that I have a child out there, either. Not all moms are good at handling being a single parent."

Putting the cut vegetables in the bowl of lettuce, Jim went back to his original thought. "A vasectomy doesn't eliminate all possibilities of children; you could meet a woman who's already a mother. Have in fact."

"Part of the attraction," Blair admitted, seemingly surprising himself as much as Jim with his candor. "At least I figured that out before I hurt any one." Putting the top back on the saucepan of rice he had been stirring, he said bluntly, "What do I have to say to convince you that I'm exactly where I want to be, doing exactly what I want to do? Maybe I didn't originally choose this life, but once I was in it, I could see it was where I belonged. I want to keep it, keep *you,* and physical intimacy is just so much icing on the cake as far as I'm concerned."

"Do you even have a clue what two men do in the bedroom?" Jim asked, honestly curious.

"The internet is a wonderful thing for the terminally inquisitive," Blair answered with what could only be called a lewd grin. "There's a lot I'm not sure I'll ever be interested in, but some of it sounds pretty hot to me. Hell, I'd probably be happy just being able to sleep next to you with an occasional helping hand. Surely you've done at least that much as a kid at summer camp or in the army."

With a shrug that didn't quite cover his discomfort with the topic, Jim admitted, "Avoided situations like that; not hard if you take the right attitude." With a wince he added, "More than one way to prove your 'manhood.' Made the most of those when I had to."

"Shots 'til you're puking and getting beat up for the sake of the honor of the unit," Blair said, shaking his head in mild disgust. "Why try so hard to stay out of the sexual arena? Not as if you're a homophobe or something."

"No, no, nothing like that. Just, just...." Mentally throwing up his hands in defeat, Jim turned to face his partner using a gentle grip on one of Blair's elbows to turn him at the same time. Threading his fingers into the loose curls over Blair's ears, Jim bent down and kissed him, voluntarily releasing control over his senses.

It was all odd for a moment, then he adapted to finding hard where he was accustomed to softness, strength and power where he expected yielding curves. After all this time Blair's scent was as much a part of him as his own skin, though, giving him a landmark to orient himself by, and the taste of him matched it exquisitely, luring Jim into submitting to the pleasure of the caress. The pure sensuality of moist flesh against moist flesh was enough to encourage him to deepen the kiss, and he slipped his tongue into the heated haven of his partner's mouth. Welcoming the intrusion with a tiny hitch in his breathing that grabbed at Jim's guts, Blair leaned into him, hands going up between them to snatch at Jim's shirt to hold him close.

Jim lost himself in the delicate texture of tongue and palate, and in the subtle changes of flavor as his partner became aroused. Distantly aware of the growing warmth between them, of the strength Blair was using to cling to him, he made an approving noise in the back of his throat and with a gentle suction lured his partner into taking his turn at controlling their kiss. Groaning, Blair explored and tasted with an eagerness that was as flattering as it was erotic.

Finally a tiny thread of an unpleasant scent intruded into Jim's sensory absorption, and he unwillingly broke away, reaching over to remove the pot from the stove burner before the rice could burn. Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned to lean back on the kitchen counter, smiling to himself with a hint of male satisfaction and smugness at the bemused, bewildered expression on Blair's face.

Fingertips coming up to touch his lips as if he couldn't believe they were his own, Blair murmured happily, "I have no idea what point you were trying to make, but, man, you can make it again as often as you want."

Chortling despite himself, Jim rolled his eyes heavenward, then said, "The point, Einstein, is that before the senses it took an hour of foreplay for the little head to get the idea; after the senses, it takes an hour to get enough of it. Either way, it's preferable to get drunk or in a fight than let a bunch of rough-necked, red-necked guys know you don't perform, ah, normally."

"Idiots," Blair said happily. Taking a very deep breath and letting it go slowly, he pushed his hair back from his face, regained his composure and went back to making dinner. "Whatever your reason, what you really just proved to me was that we *can* make this work. Or are you going to deny that you got as turned on as me?"

"Kissing is a long way from sex," Jim said, going to set the table.

"But we are going to try, right?"

For a moment Jim stared down at the dishes in his hand, not really seeing them, but remembering how this matte-finished set had simply appeared when he'd complained about the glare off the ones he had. "Yeah, I think we are, if you don't mind moving slowly. A kiss at a time, sort of."

"Cool." And that seemed to be all Blair had to say on the subject for the rest of the night.

Not that it went away. Instead it lingered in small ways that Jim found that he neither objected to nor disliked. Blair moved his chair closer during their dinner so that he could touch without reaching, and he did, using little taps and pokes to punctuate their conversation. Jim unthinkingly plopped down practically on top on him when they tuned in the evening news before arguing amicably over what to watch on the tube. Most telling, when they went through their inevitable jockeying/wresting match for control of the remote, there was an undertone to it, a physical awareness that simmered along his nerves in a way he had never before associated with Blair.

Halfway expecting erotic dreams all night long, Jim fell asleep almost instantly when he went up bed after kissing his partner good night as if they had always done it. His rest was deep and dreamless, though, and when he was pulled out of sleep an hour or so before his alarm went off, his first impulse was to get up because he was so rested. He didn't need to look for what had awakened him; from the time Blair had moved in, Jim had found that he would wake up when his roomie did, at least momentarily. Whether it was because of the change in Blair's vitals as he moved toward consciousness or something more subliminal, Jim didn't know and didn't care. It was simply one reason why he'd never liked having to share his space.

With Blair it wasn't really a problem, mostly because Jim was usually the one to get them both up. It was only once in a while that his partner would decide to get up before Jim for whatever reason - an early breakfast date, or work that had to be completed before the day's routine started. Rarely it was because Blair needed a little one-handed relief and apparently preferred the privacy of doing it first thing in the morning while his sentinel roomie was presumably asleep.

Long inured to having the men around him resort to that on occasion, Jim had never bothered to mention to Blair that he didn't need to be so careful. It was easy enough just to ignore what was happening, and Jim had a habit of giving him as much privacy, sense-wise, as he could. No reason to bring up a topic that could prove to be embarrassing - for him, anyway. Blair would have probably wanted to make up a dozen tests to find out just why Jim *did* wake up when he did.

This morning, though, he was grateful that he had never said anything about it for another reason entirely. If Blair were going to be sleeping upstairs with him in the near future, definitions of privacy were going to be changing, so sneaking this small peek of his partner when he thought himself completely unobserved wasn't really wrong. Jumping the gun a little, Jim admitted to himself, but if they really wanted to become lovers, he needed to take a good hard look at how he reacted to Blair's sexuality. It was easier, much easier, to do it when neither of them could be self-conscious about it.

To his senses, it was almost the same as if he were in the same room with Blair. With his eyes closed, Jim could remember with crystal clarity exactly what his partner looked like sprawled gracefully over his bed, muscles lax and warm with sleep. Blair's curls would be wildly tumbled every which way, and even when Jim had thought all he felt for his unique friend was fraternal fondness, he'd often thought of smoothing those locks into order. He told himself it was because he couldn't stand the untidiness, but he'd always known that it was really because he wanted to *feel* the life that seemed to vibrate in those many-colored strands.

To that basic image Jim added the small pursing of lips that Blair did unconsciously when he was concentrating hard, and rapid movements of his chest as he panted high and light in his chest so that Jim wouldn't hear. Over the years he's had enough unintentional glimpses of his partner's very respectable dick to have a fair notion of what it looked like erect and ready. From there it was a simple step to add those lovely, agile hands of Blair's to the fantasy; one teasing nipples and balls, the other stroking urgently up and down the length of Blair's erection.

Sound backed up his guesses; nails sounded different than fingertips when they moved over skin, different when it was hairy or smooth flesh. Bed clothes rustled rhythmically with the motion of an arm pumping, but there were other, more disorganized sounds of cloth as Blair moved from petting a tight bud to rolling his balls around in their downy sac. Best of all, despite his care to be as quiet as possible, tiny 'oh's' of pleasure and grunts of effort made it past Blair's control, echoing through Jim's hearing as if his partner really were right in front of him.

Unconsciously Jim began to touch himself in time to Blair's strokes on himself, digging his heels into the mattress as the need for relief quickly built to a sense-consuming necessity. Even as sensation began to dominate his rational mind, he locked onto the faint traces of Blair's lust-scent drifting on the small air currents of the loft, making it a link between both of them, no matter how tenuous. He worked his cock almost roughly, automatically stifling any sound he might make, but his lover wasn't as successful. Blair's small ecstatic noises grew louder, ending with a quietly whispered "Jim!" as he finished that was as loud as a shout to the sentinel.

It was the shove Jim needed to climax himself, and, for the first time since Blair moved in, he deliberately let himself voice his triumph as he found the relief he needed. Then all that existed for him was the pleasure rushing along his nerves to explode behind his eyelids in a silent storm of release that left him awash in the luxurious comfort of physical fulfillment. For once, there was more than just sexual satisfaction, as well. A long denied corner of his heart was as content as if he *had* laid with a lover, unselfishly and willingly sharing himself and his body.

It wasn't until the abnormal silence from his partner's bedroom sank into his lassitude that Jim began to worry that maybe he shouldn't have let Blair know that he had heard him. And reacted to what he'd heard. Then his almost lover said with just the right shade of complaining amusement, "Damnit, you couldn't have done that when I was in a condition to get the instant hard-on it demands, could you? No, you had to wait until I needed to recharge, and now I'm going to have that wonderful, blissfully erotic cry haunting me until I *can* do something about it."

Laughing, Jim cleaned himself up, put on his robe and headed down stairs to put on breakfast while Blair was in the bathroom. Halfway through the cooking, they traded places like always, exchanging a brief kiss - a custom that was brand new but obviously going to be as ingrained as sharing the cooking duties. It wasn't until he was almost done with his shower that it occurred to Jim that he and Blair were sharing a 'morning after,' in a mixed up sort of way, much as their entire relationship had been. It was the most uncomplicated, relaxed aftermath that he could imagine and it fit him perfectly: fit *them* perfectly.

That told him a lot about their chances of successfully making the switch from simple partners to lifemates, and he put both palms flat on the tile, head down while the hot water pounded at him as he thought hard. It was cold when he finally reached the only conclusion his heart would honestly allow, but he hardly noticed as he turned off the taps and began to dry himself. The only thing left to do was figure out how to gracefully ask Blair to start sleeping with him while still taking those baby steps toward intercourse. Hopefully he wouldn't laugh at him too hard when Jim totally fucked up trying to get the request out.

He went into the kitchen, towel wrapped around his hips, still trying to frame the words for the request when the phone rang. Chewing on a bit of egg, Blair answered it automatically, not seeing Jim come into the room, then frowned at the voice on the other end of the line. Concentrating, Jim focused his hearing in time to pick up Lynn saying, "...just for a minute; I know he's getting ready for work."

"I'll take it, Chief," Jim interrupted before his partner could say anything.

Expression closed, Blair wordlessly handed him the phone and started to move away to give him privacy, but Jim snagged him by the waist and pulled him to his side. Not letting go of him, Jim said calmly, "Ellison."

**Jim. Ah. It's Lynn. Lynn Welsh?** She laughed nervously, then took a deep breath and tried again. **Sorry to sound so inane; this is harder than I thought it would be.**

"Is something wrong?" Jim asked instantly. "Complications from the surgery? Did your...."

**No, no, nothing like that,** she put in instantly. **I'm just in town to close up my apartment and move the rest of my things to Mom's.** He could almost hear her smile as she added, **And, no, I don't need any help getting it done; the moving company is doing a good job. It's just that, oh, hell, you know my mom is a shrink, right? She's big on closure, and much as I hate to admit it, she's right when she says me telling you to get lost wasn't the best way for me to give it to either of us.**

"You did what you had to do; I don't have any gripe with that," Jim said carefully, not sure where she was going.

**Sure you do; you're just too much of a gentleman to say anything else to the woman who almost had your baby,** she argued quietly. **In fact, you were a gentleman during the whole stupid, heart-breaking thing and I never thanked you for that. Never thanked you at all for any of the support you were trying to hard to give me, let alone took a moment to acknowledge that you were just as confused and hurting as I was, just in your own way. Hell, Jim, you never even doubted that the baby was yours; didn't ask for a paternity test or anything.**

Uneasy with her little speech, especially since he *would* have asked for the test if she'd kept the baby, Jim said roughly, "Being an asshole wouldn't have helped either of us, as satisfying as it might have been at the moment. You don't need to thank me."

**Yes, I do,** she said with finality. **You deserve it, too, whether you'll admit it or not.** In the background he heard a crash and the tinkle of broken glass, and she sternly warned some one about being a bit more careful before turning her attention back to their conversation. **What was I saying about the moving company doing a good job? Anyway, I said what I had to say. Now's a good time for you to put your two cents in before I have to go teach those hulks how to move boxes marked 'china.'**

"I think all the bases are covered," Jim said, with the beginning of a smile returning. "Except that I really meant it when I said that we would have made great friends some where down the road."

**I think that's the nicest compliment I've ever gotten. Take care, Jim, and have a good life. You deserve it.**

"You, too." She hung up before he could say anything else, and he slowly put down the phone, trying to decipher why hearing from her did close the door on that part of his life.

"She's right, you know," Blair said softly. "You do deserve a good life."

Hugging him a bit closer, Jim asked "With you?"

"That's the game plan." Indicating the embrace that Jim had kept him in since starting his conversation with Lynn, Blair said, "You're moving in the right direction; pulling me in, not shutting me out."

The move had been so instinctive on his part that Jim hadn't even thought of it that way, and he admitted as much with a nod. "Like I said last night, we'll manage, a kiss at a time if we have to."

"Have I ever told you I like the way you measure progress in a relationship?" Blair asked, then gently kissed him to take another baby step toward the rest of their lives together.

finis