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...If I Said
by Kikkimax
Jim took another long sip in a series of long sips of beer. Across the
bonfire he watched the reflection of firelight dance in his partner's curly
brown hair. Blair was talking animatedly with Rafe, gesturing and laughing, his
voice tickled at Jim's ears, even though Jim wasn't consciously listening to the
words. He let the voice itself flow over him, soothe the recent ache he felt
somewhere in his heart, and quiet the new found loneliness in his soul. Blair
glanced toward him as he halfway listened to Rafe's reply, his brow furrowed
slightly as their eyes met.
"What?" Blair asked sotto voce around Rafe's shoulder.
Jim shook his head and toasted Blair briefly with his bottle and went back to
drinking. Blair excused himself to their host and plodded through the sand over
to his friend. Rafe waved to Jim as he headed back up the path to the house,
turning in for the night.
"What's wrong?" Blair asked more directly as he dropped down beside
Jim and stretched out toward the fire.
"I'm glad we came this weekend," Jim said, shifting his gaze to the
flames. Within the last week or so Blair's eyes had become the bluest blue Jim
had ever seen, and it was somehow disheartening to look at them. So much had
happened, and yet Blair was still here, at his side, just where he should be. In
a couple of weeks, Blair would begin his training at the academy. Somewhere
inside, Jim told himself that this was what Blair wanted, what he would have
chosen had he been given the opportunity. Jim had lied to himself about so many
things lately, his drunken mind tried to accept it, along with everything else.
"Yeah, me too. You really needed to get out of Cascade, man. I've never
seen you stressed like this. I was getting worried," Blair confessed.
"I'm glad Rafe invited us to his friend's beach house. I don't want you to
do anything but rest and have fun for the next two days."
Jim nodded. "You still care," he said softly.
Blair wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement, but the fact that it
came from Jim confused him. "You know I care, Jim. Don't you?" he
asked worriedly.
With a fond smile Jim pulled Blair over to him and drunkenly put an arm
around his shoulders. "I know. I just feel sort of empty lately."
"How long have you felt that way? Why didn't you tell me?" Blair
asked with concern, searching Jim's face with those impossibly blue eyes.
"Have your eyes always been like that?" Jim asked touching Blair's
cheek tenderly.
"Man, you are sooo drunk. Focus, Jim," Blair said, pulling the hand
down and holding it in his lap. "Don't try to change the subject. This
could be important."
"It doesn't have anything to do with my senses, Chief."
"I didn't say that it did. Do you think that I only consider the
sentinel stuff important? Shit, Jim. I thought we were past all that,"
Blair said with a small hurt voice.
"I'm sorry," Jim said and pulled his hand away. "You probably
can't help me with this anyway." He sunk the empty beer bottle into the
sand in a neat line with the other ten or twelve he had emptied in the last two
hours and turned to the nearly bare cooler behind him and pulled out another
full one.
"Do you think that maybe you're getting depressed?" Blair asked,
not giving up.
Jim shrugged and rolled a shoulder to relieve some of the tension in his
neck.
"Maybe you should talk to someone," Blair ventured cautiously.
"I am talking to someone," Jim whispered, closing his eyes and
drinking in the feel of the warm moist air that Blair exhaled with each breath.
Letting it touch his face, feather soft as Blair leaned closer to better hear
his softly spoken words.
"I mean someone who knows about this kind of stuff. You know, a
professional."
"You're all I need," Jim sighed, the alcohol making it easy to let
Blair inside the wall around his heart. The truth that even he wasn't
consciously aware of, coming out at last.
Blair swallowed. "Thanks, man."
They sat without talking for a long time while Jim screwed up the nerve to
ask for what he really needed. Blair watched the flames and waited patiently for
Jim to talk, or not. His relaxed posture told Jim he was open to further
discussion.
"Maybe all I really need is some human contact," Jim said at last,
glancing sideways at his friend to judge his reaction.
"That might help," Blair agreed readily. "It's been forever
since you've been on a date."
Jim nodded, momentarily backing down from his brave pronouncement. He looked
up as he heard laughter come from down the beach. His heart fell. "What's
that girl's name? The one who was at the party?" he asked, recognizing the
voice.
"Allison?"
"Yeah. Did you know she was going to be at the beach this weekend?"
Jim asked, suddenly very curious about the situation.
"No. But she knew that I was going to be here. I have a suspicion she
might have followed me. By the way, her friend Deidre likes you," Blair
said. "A lot."
"Are you dating her?" Jim persisted, waving away the irrelevant
notion of the other girl.
"We've gone out a couple of times. Nothing serious. Why?"
"They're coming," Jim sighed, pointing into the darkness past the
fire with his beer bottle.
"Great," Blair said with a mischievous grin. "Maybe I'll take
Allison for a walk and you can get to know Deidre. Who knows, you two may hit it
off. This could be just what the doctor ordered."
Jim wanted to shout his disappointment, to scream at the intruders to go
away. Instead he quietly finished his beer and sunk the empty into the sand with
unnecessary force. Blair waved to the women as they appeared in the ring of
firelight and made their way over. Jim frowned to himself at the prospect of
getting to know the girl, but plastered on a smile as they sat on the log near
by. He didn't want to disappoint Blair but all he could think was how much he
adored that grin, and wished it was pointed at him instead of the women.
They made small talk for half an hour before Blair suggested a walk to
Allison, who readily agreed. They strolled off hand in hand, Blair winking over
his shoulder at Jim as they passed. As soon as they were over the dune and out
of sight, Jim heard them settle into the sand. Blair pointed out the
constellations and the girl asked surprisingly intelligent questions for a
while. Soon they were kissing.
Jim tore his attention away from his Guide as Deidre straddled him suddenly,
knocking him onto his back. "You're not listening to a word I'm
saying," she accused with a laugh.
It was true. Jim hadn't even been aware that she was talking. "I'm
sorry. What did you say?"
She bent forward to kiss him, her long brown hair falling around him in a
curtain. He reached up and tangled his fingers in the curls, fascinated by them.
Letting his lips go on autopilot, he sent his hearing back out to find Blair,
whose breathing was harsh, and heart racing, two things that always kicked Jim
into blessed protector overdrive. Jim's own breathing increased until somewhere
in his drunken mind he realized that Blair was deep in the throes of passion.
"That's it, baby," Deidre crooned. As he listened to the sex act
just over the hill, Jim became aroused himself. The woman began to steadily rub
his crotch as he listened to Blair's moans and mumbled words of encouragement
and pleasure.
Jim didn't want to eavesdrop on his friend, but he couldn't help himself. He
tried to enjoy the lips on his as he fumbled with the buttons on Deidre's sweater. But time and time again, he found himself focusing on the action on the
other side of the dune. Turning up his sense of smell, he found Blair's scent
easily. It was mixed with the strange smell of the woman he was with, sweat, and
latex. But the musky odor of his aroused partner made his cock throb, and he
came in his jeans half a second after Blair did. Dropping his head back into the
sand, he sighed luxuriously and fell into a blissful sleep.
"Damn it," muttered the frustrated, half dressed woman on top of
him as she slugged him in the chest.
Blair said goodnight and kissed Allison one more time before bending to take
care of his passed out buddy laid out on the beach.
"Your friend is a dud," Deidre told him harshly.
"He's just really drunk," Blair explained. "We're gonna see
you tomorrow night, right?"
"I don't know. I'll think about it," the disappointed girl pouted.
"We will," Allison said. She pulled her friend along the beach and
Blair waved at them with a smile.
"Ok, big guy. Let's get you to bed," Blair said as he patted Jim on
the face.
"Blair?" Jim said immediately, responding to the closeness of his
Guide.
"Come on, help me out here, Jim," Blair instructed. "Up and at
'em."
Jim struggled to comply and held on tightly as Blair wrapped his arms around
him and pulled him to his feet. "We've got a big mess to clean up in the
morning," Blair said conversationally noting the debris from the party in
the light of the dying fire.
Grabbing Blair into a bear hug, Jim refused to let go or move, swaying
slightly in Blair's embrace.
"This is nice, man. But I'm ready for bed," Blair informed him.
"Yo. Jim, you awake? Let's go to the house."
Jim broke off the hug and held Blair at arms length for a minute, studying
him intently. "You're so beautiful," he slurred as he clumsily brushed
the sand out of Blair's hair. "I don't know what I did to deserve
you."
"Yeah, man. I love you, too," Blair said with a laugh. "Let's
go. One foot in front of the other. That's it."
Blair continued to cajole and encourage one step at a time, with Jim leaning
heavily on him all the way up the path. Several times they had to stop to rest,
Jim becoming more and more affectionate as they neared the house. Blair cackled
as he pulled Jim's wandering hand off of his ass. "You're never gonna live
this down, man. I've never even imagined you this drunk. This is gonna be worth
a ton of blackmail. Not that you'd ever believe me, 'cause I don't think you're
going to remember a whole lot of this tomorrow," he teased.
They stopped just below the porch to finish dusting off the sand, Blair doing
all of the work, then cautiously proceeded up the steps. They made their way to
the small downstairs bedroom, as quietly as was possible with a snockered
sentinel who was shushing crickets half a mile away. Blair sat Jim on the edge
of the full size bed and pulled off his shirt, while Jim tried hard to return
the favor, but Blair slipped easily out of his grasp. Next he removed Jim's
shoes and socks before pushing him to lie flat on the bed to undo his pants.
With a wrinkle of his nose, Blair figured out why Jim's new friend was so upset.
"Oh, Jim," he said with a grin. "You're going to hate yourself
tomorrow."
Struggling to relieve the big detective of his pants, Blair elected to leave
his somewhat soiled boxers in place. "Just stay on your own side of the
bed," he advised his now snoring friend as he pulled him around to lie
straight in the bed and covered him up. He slipped into the private bathroom and
cleaned himself up a little before crawling into the bed himself and quickly
going to sleep.
Jim woke with a full bladder nagging at him. He rolled over and tried to go
back to sleep, hoping the position change would ease the call of nature. No such
luck. He sat up and rubbed his head while he waited for the world to right
itself. His underwear felt stiff and uncomfortable as he stumbled into the
bathroom so he leaned against the wall for a minute to remove them, dropping
them in the doorway. Feeling much better he completed his mission and somehow
managed to find his way back to the bed. As he slipped between the sheets, he
reveled in the feel of the soft cotton on his bare body. Rolling onto his side,
he snuggled up to the warm lump already in the bed, throwing an arm around it
and immediately going back to sleep. Drunken dreams of blue eyes and curly hair
played in his head.
The next time he woke, he was spooned up next to Blair with the covers pushed
almost off of the bed, their shared body heat warming them nicely. The room was
still dark and silent. Jim realized with a guilty start that he was cupping
Blair's private parts in his hand. Blair's scent almost overwhelmed him and he
nearly lost himself in it. He could still smell the woman on him, but the
lingering smell of Blair's ejaculation was driving him crazy. He had smelled it
a time or two before when Blair had come home from a date, but then it was
quickly shut down in deference to Blair's privacy. But since he had vicariously
enjoyed the whole encounter on the beach, Jim found himself unable to filter out
the smell of it now. Without intention or thought, he began to sensually squeeze
and caress the slumbering man. Blair moaned as his organ responded to the
tactile stimulation and began to fill with blood, but he didn't wake.
Jim's heart hammered in his chest. He knew he was wrong to fondle his
sleeping friend, but was hard pressed to stop himself. The unknown feeling of
emptiness was replaced with a new sense of need. The need to touch and be
touched. But only Blair could fill this need, he was certain of it. The need
grew into a physical pain and Jim released his hold long enough to slide his
hand down to Blair's thigh and up into the leg of his boxers so that he was in
direct contact with the warm skin. Jim shook ever so slightly with the feeling
of completeness that he found and closed his eyes as he continued to massage the
now engorged genitals of his best friend.
Suddenly Blair tensed and quickly began to lose the erection.
"Jim?" came the soft, disbelieving exhalation.
"Shhh," Jim pleaded, removing his hand.
"What are you doing?"
"Shhh. Please." Jim kissed Blair's shoulder and tenderly began to
explore his chest and stomach with the guilty hand.
"You're drunk," Blair offered, not pulling away, sensing Jim's raw
need.
"No. I need to touch you. I'm so empty."
The honest, heart wrenching plea from the man who had never
asked him for
anything, tore at Blair. "How is this going to help?" he asked.
"It is," came the soft reply.
"I don't think you're in any shape to make a decision like this right
now," Blair advised huskily as Jim nuzzled his hair before pulling it away
to nibble on his neck.
"I need you, Blair. You're the only thing that keeps me sane.
Please," Jim entreated gently between soft kisses and bites.
"No," Blair said and pulled out of Jim's hold.
"I'll die without you," Jim sighed, releasing his friend.
Blair sat up on the side of the bed and rubbed his hand over his face before
turning to look at the Sentinel with confused eyes, not quite able to make out
Jim's face in the dark.
"Just tonight. Just let me touch you," Jim urged lightly tracing
his fingertips over Blair's bare back. "I'll never bother you again. I
promise."
Blair mentally calculated the harm the requested encounter could cause to the
friendship. Jim was drunk and lonely, but tomorrow he would in all likelihood
retreat back to his shell, maybe deeper than ever before. Maybe completely out
of reach. But Blair knew if he walked away at this moment Jim would feel
abandoned, and the man already had serious issues on that front. Blair didn't
even consider his own feelings. No time for that now. He'd have to think about
it later. Besides, this was Jim --and he needed him.
"Ok," Blair sighed and lay back down. "What do you want me to
do?" he asked so low that he didn't know if even Jim would hear him past
his thundering heartbeat, hoping that once Jim settled down, he would go back to
sleep anyway.
"Come for me," Jim answered as he pulled Blair back to rest against
his chest. He slowly moved his hand down Blair's abdomen, dragging his nails
slightly against the firm skin as he went, his breath hot on Blair's neck. This
time he slipped his hand in through the top of Blair's shorts and swiftly found
the now soft tissue. He began to work at it again, petting with patience and
determination as he began to suckle Blair's ear lobe.
Judging by the erection digging into his back, Blair realized that Jim wasn't
going to stop until he completed his task. Making an honest effort to relax,
Blair leaned back against Jim's chest and began to breathe deeply, in through
his nose and out through his mouth. Slowly he became hard again as Jim began a
rhythmic stroking, reaching around him, almost as if masturbating. Jim moved his
mouth to Blair's shoulder, biting and sucking the smooth skin in earnest,
causing Blair to instinctively reach back to cup Jim's face with his hand. Jim
reacted by lovingly kissing his palm and slipping his other arm under Blair and
intertwining his fingers with those of Blair's free hand.
Blair was astounded by the naturalness of the touch, enjoying himself almost
against his will. He found himself moving, pushing and pulling against Jim's
skillful grip and closed his eyes as air now tore in and out of his lungs. Jim's
palms became sweaty as both of their bodies began to glisten with perspiration,
making the hand slip easier back and forth. Jim quickened the pace and started
to thrust against Blair's back, the gentle nips at his shoulder becoming more
intense. A low moan escaped Blair's lips and he began to pant harder as he felt
the lightheadedness that signaled the building climax. Rational thought fled and
he gave himself up to the sensation.
"Oh, yeah!" he exclaimed as he shot his load into Jim's eager hand,
feeling the hot wetness spread across his back as Jim joined him with his own
guttural moan. "Oh, man," he sighed a moment later. "You really
are going to hate yourself in the morning."
Jim released a shaky sigh as he moved his fingers through the sticky, hot
substance in his hand. He breathed deeply and savored the salty smell, almost
tasting it as it passed through his nose. He felt spent as he rubbed the
substance into Blair's bare belly, feeling each hair as it became heavy with
semen. "Why did you let me?" he choked out after he found his breath.
Blair continued to breathe heavily himself. "Because you needed
me," he answered simply.
Jim nodded his understanding and drew Blair's sweat drenched body against his
own. "Thank you," he sighed and drifted back to sleep. Blair lay awake
and stared at the pale patch of moonlight that came through the only window in
the small room, praying that neither Brown nor Rafe would stumble in on them as
the cover lay on the floor.
At the first rays of sun, Blair slipped out of Jim's embrace and out of the
bed, finding the sheet and pulling it over his naked friend. Making his way to
the bathroom, he picked up Jim's discarded boxers from the floor, folded them
and placed them on top of Jim's bag. As he stepped into the shower, he wondered
if Jim would even remember what he had done, vowing not to bring it up if he
didn't. He dressed in the half-light and left the room to head down to the beach
to clean up the area while it was still cool out. He decided he would let Jim
sleep it off, and never mention it again. Much to his own surprise, he realized
he would give just about anything for the encounter to mean something. However,
he understood it for what it was --a drunken mistake on Jim's part.
Jim stretched in the bed as he woke, feeling a little rough around the edges,
but all in all better than he had in days. A stream of midmorning sun flashing
through the window told him that he had slept a lot later than he had planned.
Realizing he was naked, he sat up and looked around in confusion. Blair was
gone, but a sensory sweep of the house located him in the kitchen with Rafe and
Brown, talking quietly about their plans for the day. The smell of bacon frying
filled the air, but Jim filtered it out as he noticed another odor. Sniffing his
hand, he smelled semen. And not just his own. Thinking hard, he tried to
remember what had happened last night, but couldn't remember much past being on
the beach and throwing back beer after beer. There was a girl, maybe. And Blair.
With a shake of his head, he rose slightly off balance from the bed and felt
the full force of his hangover. Carefully, he bent to retrieve his missing
shorts from his bag when he smelled it again. This time just his own, coming
from the stiff boxers in his hand. He dug in the bag for another pair and went
to take a shower.
Feeling more human, he entered the kitchen to find Blair and Henri battling
for room at the stove as they completed breakfast. Rafe looked up from using the
phone and grinned at him. Jim reached between the two cooks to grab a piece of
bacon. Blair slid over without looking at him.
"I'll bet you feel like shit today," Brown said with a smirk.
Jim shrugged as he chewed up the bacon and swallowed it. "I guess I have
a little hangover," he admitted.
"I can't believe Hairboy managed to get you to bed all by himself. You
were drunk when I left at midnight, and I didn't hear you come in until after
two. Who the hell were you shushing anyway?"
"Shushing?" Jim asked, knotting his brow. "Shushing?" he
asked again, this time to Blair.
"Sit down, Jim. I'll make you a Bloody Mary," Blair offered, still
not making direct eye contact. "Naomi says it's the best thing for a
hangover."
Jim did as he was instructed and watched his partner whip up the offered
drink. 'Shushing?'
"Good news!" Rafe said, hanging up the phone. "They had a
cancellation. We can get a boat after all."
"Cool," Blair grinned, sitting the drink down in front of Jim and
pouring himself another cup of coffee. "Look out fish, here we come."
"You guys can go without me," Jim said as he lowered his head to
the table. "The last thing I need today is to be out on a boat."
"Ok, I'll stay here with you," Blair said a little reluctantly.
"Nah, you go on. Have fun. I'll read or something and hang out on the
beach," Jim said thoughtfully. Much to his surprise, Blair gave in right
away with a nod as he started putting the food on the table.
Blair couldn't get out of the house fast enough Jim mused as he flipped
through a magazine while lounging on the couch. He wouldn't even look at him and
had shied away from every touch. Something was up. Little flickers of memory
teased at Jim like stills from a motion picture, along with what Blair would
call sense memories. A sound. A smell. A touch. They couldn't mean what he
thought they did. Even if he had given in to his recent urges, Blair never would
have allowed it. Would he? What if he did and Jim had been so stinking drunk
that he didn't remember the most important night of his life? Maybe he had tried
and Blair had rebuffed him, or God forbid, he had forced himself on Blair.
Jim dropped the magazine to the floor and covered his eyes with his arm. He
sighed deeply. A hung over sentinel was a pitiful thing to behold. Especially
one with a guilty conscience. He needed to talk to Blair, but his Guide was off
fishing with the boys. Jim's head hurt, and his stomach burned, but the renewed
ache in his heart was the worst part. Wishing he had never started on the beer
last night he sat up and grabbed his cap, unable to sit still for another
minute. Setting off without shoes, he slammed the door behind him and stood on
the deck to decide which way the boat had headed once it left the marina.
Picking a direction arbitrarily, or perhaps by instinct, he headed off down the
beach.
He turned down his sense of touch as the sand began to burn his feet in the
mid afternoon sun. Slogging on, he scanned the horizon checking out each boat he
saw. A little more than a mile from the beach house, he finally caught sight of
the small charter boat rocking lazily about on the surf. He looked around
briefly at the much more populated spot, as it was in front of a large, sea side
hotel, and sank down to sit at the edge of the water. He piggybacked sight onto
sound and took in his three friends on the back of the boat. None of them wore
life jackets, and Brown and Rafe were both shirtless as they fished. Rafe
appeared to be getting quite pink.
"Idiots," Jim mumbled under his breath, thankful that at least
Blair had the good sense to wear a shirt, as the sun out on the water could be
brutal, although the cut off jeans negated any praise he might have given his
guide. As if on cue, Blair settled his pole into the rack and pulled his shirt
off over his head. "At least put on some sunscreen, Chief," Jim moaned
to himself, relaxing as Blair proceeded to do just that.
"Whoa! What happened to you?" Rafe all but shouted, turning Blair
around and pulling his hair out of the way to look at his back. Brown joined in
as well with a few colorful superlatives himself. Jim tensed as he leaned
forward and squinted, trying his best to see what it was about Blair that had
the detectives so excited.
"What's wrong? What do you see?" a nervous sounding female voice
asked from above Jim's head.
He flinched and reluctantly brought his hearing and sight back to look up and
see who was talking to him. "Uh, nothing," he muttered as he took in
the ample woman in the skimpy swimsuit, thinking it needed another yard or so of
fabric.
"Is there a shark out there?" she asked anxiously as she held a
hand over her brows to shield her eyes as she scanned the waves.
"No. I don't think so," Jim offered gruffly and turned back toward
the water as he readjusted his dials.
"So how do you get a woman so excited that she chews you up that
way?" Brown was asking.
"Sorry, man. Trade secret," Blair snorted as he turned back to his
fishing.
"Come on, Sandburg. Share. At least give us your best line," Rafe
insisted playfully.
"I don't have to use lines," Blair jokingly boasted. "People
are simply drawn to my natural charm."
"Ain't that the truth," Jim agreed with an affectionate grin.
"What?" the woman asked, once again causing pain in Jim's already
abused head.
"I wasn't talking to you ma'am," Jim answered tersely.
She looked nervously up and down the beach before moving away a little,
apparently deciding that he must be talking to himself.
A plump, well-done child came plowing out of the surf, splashing water all
over Jim just as he tried to focus back on the boat. "Hey!" Jim
shouted.
The kid stopped wide eyed and wiped at his snotty, sunburned nose with a wet
but grubby finger. It was almost enough to turn Jim's already sensitive stomach.
"Don't annoy the crazy person," the woman whispered as she
collected the child and pulled him back to the blanket where she had been
sitting.
Jim watched them go and waited until they settled before tuning his senses
back up, hoping against hope not to zone, as the fat kid might touch him with
the booger finger. Taking a deep breath to clear his head of the unpleasant
thought, he located the boat and zoomed in on it.
"...then you say that you need directions," Brown was saying.
"When she asked for what, you say 'the quickest way to get into your
pants'." He laughed uproariously and Rafe chuckled.
"That's so not cool," Blair groaned. "No wonder you couldn't
ever get a date. How did you ever catch your wife?"
"He got slapped a couple times with that line that's for sure,"
Rafe agreed. "Here's one: If I said you had a beautiful body, would you
hold it against me."
"That's lame, man," Blair laughed. "Wait a minute, isn't that
a song?"
The momma's boy padded through the sand and once again splashed Jim as he hit
the water. Jim ignored him and continued to listen to his friends laughing and
cutting up, wishing for the second time he hadn't had so much to drink last
night, feeling like the school boy that got ditched. He wanted to be on the
boat, fishing and hanging out with the boys. With Blair.
"Come on, Hairboy, throw us a bone. If you don't give us a line,"
Brown threatened, grabbing Blair by the arm, "we're going to throw you
overboard."
Jim jumped to his feet without realizing it as his body went into blessed
protector mode, ready to swim to the boat. He was ready to break Brown in half
before he realized that A) Henri was kidding, B) Blair could take care of
himself, and C) he couldn't possibly swim that far. Well, he probably could, but
not in time to save his Guide from drowning or from sharks or...
"Shark! Shark!" the rotund woman began shouting as she
misinterpreted Jim's sudden interest in the water, running into the ocean to
save her over-baked baby boy.
Jim winced from the roar of the people in the surf as they started to panic
and fight their way to shore. He turned his hearing down, and watched to make
sure that everyone made it safely to land before looking back toward the boat.
Blair was fine. He was smiling and laughing, looking absolutely beautiful with
the sun shining all around him, sparkling off the water. Jim sighed and headed
back to the beach house, vowing to have a long talk with Blair as soon as he
could get him alone.
After rummaging around in the fridge and finding nothing that looked
appetizing, Jim found himself back on the couch. Just as sleep teased at his
throbbing head, someone trotted up the wooden steps out front and pounded on the
front door. With a groan and a sigh, Jim sat up wearily, silently cursing
Anheuser Busch and his own momentary weakness, and stumbled to the door.
"Hi," Allison said, backing up a little at the scowl turned her
way. "Is Blair here?"
"No, he's fishing right now," Jim answered trying to tone down the
sudden animosity he felt toward the slight woman.
"Oh. Can you give him a message?" she asked, already backing
towards the steps.
"Sure," Jim said, trying to smile. Failing.
"Tell him that we are off for tonight. We met some guys today and
well..." she paused for a minute. "I mean, I really like Blair, but Deidre
doesn't want to see you. Ever again," she said, sounding a little
sorry about the situation.
Jim actually smiled at that. One problem solved. He wouldn't have to pretend
to be interested in Deidre again. "Sure, I'll tell him."
Allison waved and started down the path, then turned. "Hey! Did you
hear? There was a shark attack down at the beach today!"
Jim woke from his nap grumpy, his head still hurting. He removed the
earplugs, hoping that the noise outside the house had lessened in intensity. The
alcohol hadn't done his senses any favors. He frowned slightly when he passed
through the bedroom to the bathroom and noticed the bed he had already made up
was stripped down to the mattress. He finished his business and followed his
ears out the backdoor to the small laundry area under the carport. Blair was
singing along with the radio and stuffing sheets into the already filling
washing machine. Jim stood and watched, especially interested in the little
dance that went with the song.
"You've lost that lovin' feelin', oooh that lovin' feeling. You've lost
that lovin' feelin'..."
Jim cracked a smile as Blair just barely missed the high note while he added
the detergent.
"It's gone... gone.... gone.... and I caaan't gooo on.... ohohoh..."
Blair continued to sing as he pulled his stinky tee shirt over his head and
threw it in as well.
A patch of red skin in the middle of his back drew Jim's eye. He reached out
to touch it without giving a warning of any kind. As his cool hand skimmed the
hot flesh, Blair let out a bleat of fright and bounced back into the washer.
"Shit!" he exclaimed. "Do you have to sneak up on me?"
"Sorry," Jim grinned, not sorry at all.
"No you're not," Blair glared.
"I guess there's a reason you're an anthropologist and not a singer,
huh?" Jim teased before his own words came back to haunt him.
"If you're telling me not to quit my day job, you're a little
late," Blair said, not unkindly, turning back to close the lid on the
machine and turn off the radio.
"God, Blair. That was a stupid thing to say. I'm so sorry."
Blair shrugged, "It's a little hard to get used to the idea, I know.
Don't worry about it."
"You're burnt here," Jim said to change the subject, stroking his
fingers lightly across the tender area of Blair's back. Blair froze in place,
but didn't move away from the touch.
"Yeah, I couldn't really reach that spot with the sunscreen. You should
see Rafe, he's fried. Brown took him to the ER," Blair said with an 'I told
him so' somewhere in his evil grin.
"Maybe you should go too," Jim said, gauging the depth of the burn
with his sensitive fingers.
"No way, man. I've got some aloe lotion I'll put on it after I get a
shower."
"Right. How do you plan to do that when you couldn't reach that spot to
put sunscreen on it to start with?" Jim asked.
"I'll manage," Blair said shortly, lowering his eyes. "Did you
hear? There was a shark spotted out in the water today," he asked suddenly,
looking up again.
"Yeah, I heard," Jim ground out. "By the way, Allison came by.
She said that it's off for tonight. They're heading back to Cascade," he
lied, not wanting to hurt Blair's feelings. Not wanting him to know how damned
happy he was not to be going out with the girls tonight.
"Oh," Blair said noncommittally. "Sorry it didn't work out
between you and Deidre."
"Honestly, I don't remember anything about what did or didn't work out
last night," Jim confessed.
Blair sighed, almost like he was relieved. "Oh," he said again.
Jim swallowed. "What did happen last night?" he asked a little
breathlessly, not just asking about the girl.
"Um, I understand that you and Deidre were getting along and then you,
um, went to sleep on her," Blair explained quietly.
"Went to sleep?" Jim asked doubtfully. Blair nodded and glanced
around for the quickest escape route. "That's it? I just went to sleep.
That's why this girl is so upset she never wants to see me again?"
"Deidre's upset?" Blair asked. "I mean she was pissed last
night, but I thought she'd get over it."
"Get over what? Tell me the truth, Sandburg. I'm a big boy. I can take
it," Jim assured, crossing his arms over his chest, shifting just so that
Blair couldn't slip past him and out of the carport.
Blair mirrored Jim's stance unconsciously and leaned against the washer. He
sighed once and ran a hand over his face before meeting Jim's eyes trying to
decide how much of the truth he would actually tell. "You were making out
and you creamed your jeans," he said at last.
"Oh," Jim said, clearly not satisfied with the answer. "That's
it?"
"That's it." Blair held his gaze, but his heartbeat gave him away.
"Why are you washing the sheets?" Jim asked skeptically.
"There was sand in them," Blair answered coolly. "With your
senses, and my sunburn, I thought it would be nice to have clean sheets."
There. Reasonable. Plausible. A total lie. And Jim didn't buy a word of it.
Trying to control his building anger at Blair's refusal to just tell him the
truth, Jim ground his teeth for a minute. "Did I, uh, do something to you
last night?" he asked straight out, boring into Blair's eyes with his own,
daring him to lie again.
Blair fell silent for a minute, once again dropping his eyes. He fingered the
hair over his right shoulder for a minute before pulling it up and turning
slightly so that Jim could see his neck. Jim gasped when he realized just what
the detectives had been picking on Blair about out on the boat. Some detectives,
he smirked to himself. Any idiot could see that the petite woman Blair had been
with wouldn't have been able to make the marks on his neck and shoulder unless
she had a detachable jaw. The purple bruises spoke of lust and passion, not only
hickeys, but teeth marks as well. And try as he might, he couldn't think of a
single position where a male would be in front of a female enough that she
could, how did Brown put it? 'chew him up that way', at least not on the back of
the shoulder.
"I did that?" Jim asked, surprised by the anger in his voice.
Blair looked at him, confusion evident in his stance, unsure of exactly why
Jim was mad. He nodded, but didn't say anything. Wondering just what was going
on in his partner's head, he decided to go for broke and tell him everything.
Sink or swim time. "You, um, gave me a hand job," he stammered,
relieved that the truth was out, although terrified of the consequences.
"What?" Jim asked, a little stunned. Ok, so the flashes of that
were real. It had really happened and wasn't just another dirty dream about his
partner. "And you let me?" he asked a little harshly, unhappy in the
extreme that he had acted on his impulses while he was drunk, before he could
test the waters so to speak. What if he ruined everything?
Blair, being the object of Jim's wrath on more than one occasion, took the
question as an accusation. "I'm sorry," he said and pushed his way
past Jim and out of the carport, heading down the beach at a dead run instead of
going back into the house.
Jim stood in the carport for several minutes, berating himself. It took
everything he had, but he let Blair go. For now. He promised himself he would
make it better later, he just didn't have a clue as to how. How did he tell his
partner, his roommate of over three years, his Guide for Christ's sake that he
was in love with him? Just because Blair had allowed his attentions last night
didn't mean he was open for a physical relationship. If he pushed the issue, he
just might lose Blair for good --and that simply was not an option.
Blair ran as far as he could. Finally, winded but not ready to stop, he
peered back over his shoulder. Jim was nowhere in sight, so he allowed himself
to slow to a walk. He really needed to think, so many things had happened in the
last twenty-four hours. Jim had opened up to him for the first time since the
mess with Alex had started. Up until then, Blair had allowed himself a small
hope that someday his relationship with Jim might blossom into something...
else. After the bonding of their souls when Jim pulled him back from death
itself, it seemed inevitable. But it had all ended when he had invited Jim 'into
the water' of a new kind of relationship, based in the more spiritual plane. Jim
had politely refused, making it clear he didn't want anything more from Blair
than what they already had.
Then, he and Allison had, against his better judgment, but he really had been
very lonely he rationalized, gone from friends to lovers. But he had in a
twisted way, actually done it for Jim, as Deidre had made it clear that she had
a little sumpthin' for the big guy, if only she could get him alone. Although
Jim was repressed in a lot of ways, hetero sex wasn't one of them. Blair just
wanted to better Jim's chance of getting laid. It was a pretty selfless thing to
do, all things considered.
Never in his wildest dreams would Blair have thought that Jim was serious as
he mauled him on the way back to the house that night. He had been like a
demented octopus, grabbing and nuzzling, but all in a good way. Very
affectionate. Like in the old days. The pre-dissertation debacle days. The
days when Jim trusted him and approved of him, and maybe even loved him a little
in his own way. The days before Blair had taken everything that he was and
flushed it down the proverbial toilet. All for Jim. All for naught.
Blair had accepted the badge at the time. He had promised to go to the
academy, to learn to fire a gun, to cut his hair, to become what Jim wanted him
to be. He had accepted this as his fate, as the only way to stay close to Jim.
But once again, one time too many actually, he had seen the look of betrayal on
Jim's face. Heard the accusation: "And you let me?" The words echoed
in his ears. Once again, it was all his fault.
The sun had been sinking into the ocean as he ran away. Now the night was
settled firmly against the beach, only the whiteness of the waves as they
crested and the starlit sky gave contrast to the dark. The sun took its warmth
as it left, and the sweat on Blair's body chilled him slightly as the sea breeze
caressed his bare, sunburned back. He realized that he had run as far as he
could. Not that there weren't miles of beach ahead of him, but a sudden and
horrible clarity of what he must do turned him around. Back to the beach house.
Back to Jim. No, not really. Not this time. Detective James Ellison had just
lost himself a partner. Anything left to say was only a formality.
Rafe and Brown had returned from the hospital, packed up their things and
headed back to the city. LobsterBoy, as Brown had dubbed him, was in no mood to
party, vacation, play, or otherwise hang out anywhere but home, but graciously
told Jim to stay and enjoy what was left of the weekend with Blair.
Jim had finished the laundry that Blair had started and made the beds,
including the one upstairs. Just in case. He fixed dinner and sat at the table
to wait. After an hour, he turned off the oven and put everything in the
refrigerator. Blair had left in a pair of cutoffs. No shoes, no shirt, and his
wallet was in the bedroom, so Jim knew he hadn't stopped anywhere to eat.
Of all the hurt looks that he had ever seen on Blair's face, and God help
him, he had personally been responsible for more of them than he cared to think
about, the one in the carport had been the worst. It was a combination of
disbelief and pain, and it had taken a while for Jim to realize what it meant.
Blair thought that Jim was blaming him for the encounter the night before. And
why not? Jim had acted, once again, like an ass. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Good thing
Blair was forgiving. Jim decided he would apologize then tell Blair how he felt.
He was tired of beating around the bush. He would just lay it out, it was too
late to go back now anyway. Either Blair would laugh it off and gently decline
as was his way, or he would admit to similar feelings, and everything would be
ok. Or he would leave.
Fear based response time. Shit. What if Blair left? What if he thought Jim
was completely out of his mind, and walked out on him like he should have done a
long time ago? What if he had forced himself on his unwilling partner? That
thought left a cold spot right in his heart. Jim knew that he didn't deserve
Blair. But as much as he didn't want to admit it sometimes, he needed him. And
wanted him. Loved him. Love? Yeah, love. Jim loves Blair, he thought just as he
heard his partner coming through the backdoor.
"Why don't you get a shower while I warm up dinner," Jim said
softly, breathing in the muskiness of the long run as Blair entered the kitchen.
Blair glanced around. "Where is everybody?" he asked calmly.
"Oh, uh, Henri took LobsterBoy home," Jim answered, turning around
to make eye contact for the first time. Instead of the hurt expression, he saw
strength, resolve. And it scared him. "Go on," he urged, turning back
to the stove to reheat the food.
Without a reply, Blair went into the bedroom and shut the door. Within a
couple of minutes the shower came on. The usual bath time singing was ominously
absent, drawing Jim to wait just outside the bedroom door after he had placed
everything back in the oven. He soon found himself in the bedroom sitting on the
bed. The aloe lotion that Blair had mentioned lay on the bed with a clean pair
of boxers and a tee shirt. When the water stopped, Blair came out of the
bathroom in a mist of steam, rubbing his hair with a towel. When he saw Jim he
self-consciously lowered the towel and wrapped it around his waist.
"We can talk after dinner, Jim," he said, clearly dismissing him.
"Ok. Here. Let me rub some of this on your back before you get
dressed," Jim offered, raising the bottle of lotion.
Blair shrugged and turned around, allowing Jim access to his back. Jim warmed
the lotion in his hands and smoothed it lovingly into the reddened area. He let
his fingers slide over the soft, hot skin, moving ever outward, until the skin
was cooler, not burnt, but he kept going until Blair tensed beneath his touch.
"Sorry," he said and dropped his hands to his lap. The glare that
Blair gave him when he turned around spoke volumes. "I guess what happened
last night wasn't exactly consensual," he said softly. "We should
probably go to the police department here and file a complaint."
"No," Blair answered easily. "It was consensual. You asked me
and I said ok."
"Why?" Jim asked again, this time free of anger. His voice held a
plea in its tone.
"I was thinking about that on the beach," Blair sighed, sinking
down to sit cross-legged on the floor, before finding a more modest position.
"What did you come up with?"
"You needed me. I did what I always do. I gave you what I thought you
needed. You need a punching bag? I'm there for you, buddy. You need someone
handy to take the blame? Me again. You need someone to get your rocks off in a
drunken stupor? Hey, why the hell not?" Blair's soft voice belied the
harshness of the words. "I gave you everything, Jim. I gave you my life,
quite literally, I might add. I gave up my life. My work, my reputation,
everything. You already had my mind, my heart, and my soul. My body was just the
last thing. You've got it all now, man. Enjoy!" Blair stood up and dropped
the towel, holding his hands away from his body, turning in a slow circle.
"Stop it!" Jim shouted, grabbing the cutoffs from the floor and
thrusting them into Blair's hands.
"Trying to save my virtue?" Blair asked sarcastically. "You're
about twelve years too late for that," he added quietly. "I'm no
virgin in any sense of the word."
Jim stared at him dumbfounded for a minute. He had never known. Never
realized. Never bothered to ask.
Blair smirked at him before stepping into the shorts and zipping up.
"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" he asked, still in the low, gentle tone.
"If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"
Jim ventured carefully, hoping Blair would see through the attempt at levity for
what it really was. He didn't. He stared scornfully.
"I love you," Jim tried again, raising his eyes to meet Blair's
still angry ones.
"How do you mean?" Blair asked, putting his hands on his hips.
"What do you mean how do I mean?"
"According to Plato, there are four kinds of love. Storge, or love of
family. Philia, brotherly love. Eros, sexual love. And Agape, the self
sacrificing, eternal love. How do you love me, Jim? I need to know. Eros?"
"No," Jim answered quickly.
"Well," Blair said. "There we are."
"Agape. That's the way I love you. Completely. I hope I die first,
because I could never bear to lose you."
Blair lost his hard expression and dropped to a knee in front of Jim and took
his hands. "I think it's already too late," he pleaded, his voice
becoming harsh with emotion.
"I can change," Jim stated firmly, grabbing the hands as if they
were the only things keeping him secured to the planet.
"Jim, the best indicator of future behavior is past behavior."
"No," Jim said and pulled Blair up to meet his lips, but Blair
turned away, rising to his feet instead.
"Somehow, this just feels pointless. As much as I want to believe you, I
know you're going to hurt me again."
"I won't," Jim promised, standing up and capturing Blair's face in
his hands. He lowered his head and brushed his lips tenderly across Blair's
soft, full ones. Blair sighed, but allowed his mouth to be claimed. Jim deepened
the kiss and all the love and passion that he felt flowed through him, pouring
out of his mouth and into Blair.
Suddenly, the fire alarm went off. "Damn," Jim said, slowly
releasing Blair from his grasp.
"Dinner?" Blair asked.
"Well, it would have been." They turned off the stove and opened
the doors and windows to air the place out after removing the batteries from the
smoke detector.
Jim began to cough and rub his eyes. "Outside," Blair ordered,
leading his Sentinel down to the beach, away from the irritating smoke.
They sat on a dune and looked out over the ocean, side by side. "I love
you, too," Blair said at last.
"Which way do you love me?" Jim asked reaching out to caress a curl
that fell across Blair's cheek.
"All four," Blair answered seriously. "Each and every
one."
"Are you going to leave me?" The question was punctuated with a
single tear.
"I was."
"You'll stay?"
"If you'll have me. All of me. All or nothing," Blair said, eyeing
Jim solemnly.
"Why?" Jim asked softly. "What changed your mind?"
Blair turned away as he answered. "We already had Storge and Philia
love. I never questioned that. I have to admit, I've wondered a lot about Eros.
But you picked Agape. I guess if you really love me that way, I can live with
the occasional hurt."
"Thank God!" Jim sighed and pulled Blair in for another kiss. This
one harder, more passionate, unlike the way he had ever kissed another person,
sharing his soul.
At last they parted and Jim pulled Blair to sit between his legs and leaned
him back against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around him. Blair sighed
and closed his eyes. "I'm not going to the academy," he announced.
"I know," Jim said. They sat for several long moments in an easy
silence. "I've been thinking, you never turned your dissertation in. It
wasn't your fault. I think we should sue Sid Graham and the university."
Blair shrugged. "It doesn't matter."
"It does matter."
"I can't let you do that Jim. We already saw what will happen. It's not
worth opening up that can of worms again. No."
"We'll find a way. Maybe you could write another dissertation and turn
it in after we rake Rainier over the coals. Then you could work with me as a
consultant. A paid consultant."
"Jim, I told the world that I was a fraud, man. It's hard to take back
something like that," Blair smiled as he snuggled deeper into Jim's arms.
"Yeah, but you only did it to protect the people you care about. I think
the media would be very interested in the reasons you did it. Even if we still
deny the Sentinel stuff. I mean, what about Alex. She proves that you weren't
wrong."
"You may be on to something," Blair said thoughtfully, biting his
lip and staring off into the dark of the water below. He was quiet for a long
time then laughed abruptly. "You should have seen your face when I told you
that I'd been with another man," he said.
"I was surprised," Jim admitted carefully.
"It doesn't matter to you?" Blair asked, turning in Jim's arms to
look at his face.
"No. I'm glad at least one of us knows what to do," Jim said with a
shy smile.
Blair grinned and turned back to face the water.
"What do we do now?" Jim asked huskily.
Pulling out of Jim's embrace, Blair stood and turned to face him. "I
know what I want to do," he said seductively, unzipping the cutoffs that
Jim knew didn't have anything under them.
Jim's respirations got faster and he felt a tug at his own shorts from the
inside. "What?" he asked breathlessly as Blair dropped his shorts to
his ankles.
"Take a swim," Blair laughed, turning on his heel and racing down
toward the ocean, his firm, white butt bobbing in the moonlight.
"Right," Jim said as he stood and shucked his own clothes.
"Watch out for sharks!" he warned as he raced down to the water,
humming the theme to Jaws as he plunged into the cold water after his partner.
The End
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