Title: Breakfast in Bed
 Author/pseudonym: Candy Apple
 Rating: E-
 Pairings: J/B

 Status: NEW, complete
 Date: 6-18-98
 Archive: YES
 Archive author: Candy Apple 
 Series/Sequel: Story 6 in the New Beginnings Series

Disclaimers: These beautiful men aren't mine.  They belong to Pet Fly. 
No money was made, but some fun was had. :-)

 Summary: Jim serves Blair breakfast in bed.

 Notes: Apologies to James Taylor for quoting his song--and for not
remembering the name of it.  I heard it on the radio again the other day,
and it just screamed Jim/Blair! 

 Warnings: Only warning is that there is a brief discussion of the
subject of suicide, BUT this is NOT a dark story in any way.  Felt
compelled to stick that warning on in case the mention of it upsets
anyone.


BREAKFAST IN BED

by 

Candy Apple


     Blair was marginally awake, but he let his eyes remain closed
as he shifted around in the bed, expecting to make contact with the
warm body that had been spooned around him all night.  Instead, he
found only sheets.  Grimacing at this unhappy turn of events, Blair
opened his eyes, and at the same time, focused on the faint music that
was wafting up from the kitchen, carrying with it the smells of
breakfast. //Music?  Since when did Jim play music first thing in the
morning?//

     Resigned that his deep sleep was over, he pushed a few stray
curls out of his eyes and crawled up on the mattress so he could look
over the railing.  What he saw left him at first stunned, then amused. 
His usually very quiet and reserved lover was in the kitchen, making
breakfast, apron in place, singing along with the radio.  Blair was more
interested in tuning into Jim's voice than James Taylor's.

     "Whenever I see your smiling face, I have to smile myself,
because I love you," Jim was singing, flipping a pancake ostentatiously
in the air and catching it in the pan again.  "When you give me that
pretty little pout, it turns me inside out, there's something about you,
baby..."  A dash of something was added to another pan with equal
flourish.  Blair stifled a laugh.  Jim's voice wasn't half bad--as a matter
of fact, he had a very good voice.  It was the vision of Jim singing in
the kitchen--no, singing *and* dancing in the kitchen--that was just so
incongruous as to be funny.

     Blair watched affectionately as the other man bounced around
the kitchen.  Jim Ellison simply did *not* bounce. //Better check under
the bed for the pod,// Blair thought, chuckling quietly.  

     "And I thank my lucky stars, that you are who you are, and not
just another lover, baby, sent out to break my heart," the happy singer
continued.  "Isn't it amazing a man like me could feel this way.  Tell
me how much longer it'll grow stronger everyday," Jim added, flipping
the poor frightened pancake high in the air one more time before
deciding it had suffered enough.

     Blair dove back down into the bedclothes, lest he be discovered. 
Jim probably would know Blair was awake, but hopefully the other
man had been preoccupied enough not to know that his rare moment of
musical expression had been observed.

     "Time to rise and shine, Chief," Jim called up the steps as he
headed for the bedroom.  He soon arrived at the top of the stairs
carrying a tray fit for a king.  

     "Breakfast in bed?  Wow."  Blair smiled and straightened up,
stuffing some pillows behind himself before Jim set the tray in place
across his lap.  There was coffee, orange juice, pancakes with fresh
strawberries and a drizzle of the strawberry juice over them, sausage
and an English muffin.  

     "Before you give me a cholesterol lecture, those are turkey
sausages and I used the low fat margarine on the muffin.  You won't be
polluted, I swear."  Jim sat on the edge of the bed.

     "I wasn't going to say anything, but that sounds great."  Blair
looked away from the food to his partner.  "You're not eating?"

     "I grazed while I cooked.  This is all yours."

     "This is really beautiful.  Thanks, man."  Blair dug into the food
enthusiastically while Jim rescued the spare cup of coffee he'd put on
the tray for himself and took a swallow.  

     "I thought maybe we could do something today.  Maybe take a
drive somewhere.  We've got a whole weekend.  What would you think
of a little fishing?"

     "Kinda late for that, isn't it?  It's already, what, ten?"

     "We could set up camp today...test the tent," Jim grinned as he
took another drink of coffee.

     "Make sure it was big enough for two, huh?"

     "Something like that, yeah."

     "Sounds great."  

     "What's wrong, Chief?  We don't have to do the camping thing
if you don't feel up to it."

     "I feel fine.  Really.  I was just wondering."

     "About...?"

     "Rafe and Megan seem to think this is no big deal.  Us coming
out, I mean.  I just worry that it's going to be worse than what they
think.  I hope...I hope you don't live to regret dancing with me in front
of everybody last night."

     "I could never regret dancing with you, sweetheart."  Jim
captured one of Blair's hands and held onto it.  "I think Rafe's a bit
overly optimistic, too.  But we'll handle whatever comes up."

     "Gay cops aren't usually real popular."

     "Listen, Chief, if it can work out, I would like us to be able to
go on with our jobs and our lives they way they are now.  But if not...
when you were floating face down in that fountain, my job didn't mean
a hell of a lot to me."  Jim's hand tightened almost painfully on Blair's.

     "I lived, Jim.  I'm alive, and I'm fine.  You don't have to give
everything up for me.  I understand if...if this gets too difficult..."  Blair
didn't know if he had the strength to tell Jim he could have his freedom
if their relationship was going to mess up his career.  He didn't have
time to worry about it for long.

     "What I'm trying to tell you is that...that you *are* everything
that matters to me.  God, I needed to see you dead before I got the
point, but I get it now.  I can live without the Cascade PD but I can't
live without you."  Jim kissed the back of the hand he was holding.

     "Jim...about that..."  Blair took a deep breath.  "What you said
in the hospital--"

     "I shouldn't have laid that on you.  I didn't think you were
conscious.  I was spilling my guts."

     "You told me you'd kill yourself if I died."

     "I know."  Jim set his coffee back on the tray so he could cover
the hand he held with his other hand.  "Blair, if anything happened to
you, I...I can't picture...anything after that for me."

     "But I'd want to know that you were okay...that you'd go on.  I
would hate to think you'd hurt yourself because of me.  I don't know if
*I* can handle *living* with that knowledge.  I know now that you
love me, and that you want me around, and I'll be careful as I can.  But
I can't stand the thought that if something happened to me, it would be
the end for you too.  I love you too much to think about that."

     "You want some kind of promise from me, don't you?"  Jim
exhaled loudly when Blair nodded.  He knew he'd been had, and that
the moment the innocent little phrase "I promise" slipped out, he'd be
bound to it.  He looked into the worried blue eyes studying him, and it
suddenly came easily.  "I promise."

     "Thank you," Blair said softly, closing his eyes.

     "Breakfast is getting cold, sweetheart," Jim said, kissing Blair's
hand and releasing it to its task of clearing the tray.  Blair had no
sooner picked up a strawberry to feed it to Jim when the doorbell rang.

     "What timing," Blair groaned, thinking that perhaps a little
shared food would get the ball rolling for something physical between
them.  He knew Jim was respecting his recovery time, but enough was
enough.

     "Better go see who it is."  Jim ate the strawberry and managed
to give Blair's finger a swift swirl of the tongue.  "Hold that thought."

     Jim picked up the faint scent of cigar smoke before he ever
reached the first floor.  Though Simon knew better than to bring a
smoldering stogie to Jim's apartment, the essence of his last smoke
clung to his clothing and alerted the sentinel of his arrival.
     
     "Morning, Simon," Jim greeted as he opened the door.

     "Glad to see I'm not getting you out of bed," Simon commented,
nodding toward Jim's t-shirt and jean-clad body.

     "I've been up a while.  Blair's still in bed.  Would you like some
coffee?"

     "That sounds good, thanks."  Simon followed Jim to the
kitchen.  He very pointedly stared into Blair's old room.  The French
doors were open, and it was more than obvious that it was back to
spare room status again.

     "Blair's upstairs," Jim answered the unspoken question, handing
Simon a cup of coffee.  

     "That's why I'm here.  About last night--"

     "I'm sorry if that caught you off guard, sir, but I don't have any
regrets about doing it."

     "Listen, Jim, in a perfect world, I would never say this to you. 
But do you know what the hell you're getting yourself into here?  This
isn't a perfect world.  I know you're relieved about Sandburg making it
through all right--hell, we all are.  But don't start mixing that up with
being in love with him.  Love between friends can be very intense,
exclusive even--but there's a difference--"

     "If you're going to give me a lot of advice about making sure my
feelings are what I think they are, let me save you a lot of time and
energy.  They are.  I can't explain it, but I know what I'm doing and I
don't plan to stop doing it anytime soon."

     "You know I'm not going to give you grief about this, but we
could run into trouble with Blair's consultant status if the chief decides
*he* doesn't like the arrangement."

     "That would look pretty politically incorrect on his part."

     "True, but there are a lot of people out there who would be
behind him for 'cleaning up' a situation like that in the PD.  Look, I just
don't want you to do something in this...this *haze* you're in that's
going to cost you your career later."

     "I'm not in a *haze*, Simon."  Jim grinned a bit
uncharacteristically before taking another drink of coffee.  "I think the
correct term for it is 'being in love'.  As a matter of fact, I'm planning
on spending the rest of my life with Blair if he can tolerate me that
long."

     "Well, I guess it's a done deal then."
     
     "'Fraid so."  

     "Then you leave me with no other choice," Simon stated
gravely.  "Congratulations, man."  Simon stuck out a hand and smiled
widely.  Jim shook it, smiling back but still a bit stunned.  As if on cue,
a head popped up over the railing upstairs.

     "So everything's cool?"  Blair asked, from his perch above the
other two men.

     "Does he always eavesdrop like that?"  Simon asked Jim, mock
annoyance in his voice.

     "Only when I can get away with it," Blair retorted.

     "Well, let's put it this way.  Everything's cool with me.  As far
as the rest of it goes, we'll just have to have a 'wait and see' attitude."  

     "Your support means a lot to us, Simon," Blair responded.

     "I don't like the prejudices that are out there, but I know you're
going to be rowing against the current here.  I just wanted to be sure the
euphoria of the moment wasn't screwing up your view of reality."

     "Let's put it this way," Jim added.  "The euphoria is worth the
reality."
     
     Simon glanced from his best detective and good friend up to the
loft bedroom, where Blair still leaned on the railing, probably kneeling
in the middle of the bed upstairs.  He couldn't recall seeing any two
faces look quite that happy before.

     "I can see that."  Simon smiled at his friends and set his coffee
cup down, moving toward the door.  "I have to go.  Not all of us have a
long weekend off."

     "A long weekend, sir?"  Jim asked, puzzled.

     "That's usually what they call Saturday and Sunday followed by
Monday and Tuesday off.  Enjoy."  Simon just smiled, strolling out the
door and leaving the two stunned men to mentally register that they had
four days' vacation all to themselves.

*******

Until next time... ;-)