Rating: PG

It had started as an innocent game of basketball with some of the guys from the monastery. Jim and Blair finally had time to pay a return visit, and with no TV, phones or other distractions (not that being near Jim wasn't a distraction in itself!), basketball seemed an ideal pastime, a chance to burn off some of the energy born of frustration.

One of the monks had thrown a long shot that Blair could see going right over his head. He backpedaled, hands high over his head, eyes watching the ball, when he collided with something solid and hard - Jim Ellison's fit body. Blair stumbled, and slid down to the ground closing his eyes against the pain as his ass hit the floor - hard. He opened them to see Jim's brilliant blues gazing at him full of concern.

"You all right there, Chief?" Jim squatted down beside Blair.

"Fine!" Blair snapped. Being that close to temptation made him just a tad tetchy.

"Anything broken?" Jim asked, running his hands lightly over Blair's arms and legs, leaving Blair biting back a whimper of lust.

He killed the sensation quickly as he remembered they had an audience of monks. "Not a thing; bruised but not broken," he said, with a small grin.

"Well, I won't offer to rub it better for you." Jim smiled.

"Thanks!" Blair made a face, trying not to think about Jim running his hands over Blair's ass, and started to his feet. Jim went to steady him, and Blair's head came into hard contact with Jim's nose.

Blair at once felt guilty as Jim's nose began to bleed. "Oh, God. Oh, shit. I'm sorry, man."

Jim put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and angled his head back. "It's all right, Chief, no reason to watch where you're going." His voice was understandably nasal so the sarcastic remark didn't have the right effect. Someone handed him a clean cloth to hold against his nose.

All Blair could see was the blood dripping down Jim's shirt. He grabbed Jim's arm. "Come on; let's get you to the bathroom."

So here he was dragging his unresisting partner through the corridors to the monastery's communal bathroom. I don't think he knows how I feel. He's never said anything. I don't even know if I want him to say anything! Blair looked back at the man he was leading, suddenly aware that he was holding Jim's hand and Jim was clutching his to guide him along as Jim's head was tilted back to try and avoid bleeding on the floor. This is the nearest you'll ever have to actually hand-holding. Blair shook his head, God, I am so screwed!

"Chief? You all right? You seem kinda distracted there."

"Yeah, Jim, just thinking. Couldn't really remember which way to go from that doorway." Blair cringed. Poor lie, my friend. But Jim seemed to buy it, and then they turned a corner and reached the bathroom. Blair pulled Jim inside and shut the door.

He turned to his friend. "Let's get that shirt off," he instructed, and instantly regretted his words. He would be faced with those strong pecs, those well-formed abs, that smooth skin - and there was no place to go. Blair began to unbutton Jim's shirt, his fingers fumbling, while the injured detective held his nose, though it looked like the nosebleed was slowing.

Would you look at all that exposed chest! Blair's heartbeat stepped up a notch. He longed to run his fingers over that flesh, stroke and caress it, maybe have a gentle nibble, have those nipples pebbling by his actions not because of the cool air of the bathroom. Down, boy! he told himself. It's not like you've never seen his chest before. Get over it!

"I think you caught my eye too." Jim's soft voice brought him back from his 'zone'.

Blair blinked, and then realized just what Jim meant. Jim's eye was sore and red-looking. Blair leaned over to inspect his friend's eye, and felt their breath mingle. He pulled back quickly and reached over to wet a paper towel under the tap, one hand on Jim's shoulder to keep his balance. He turned on the tap, put the paper under it...then things seemed to happen in slow motion.

Jim leaned over to see what Blair was doing, only somehow he lost his equilibrium and he overbalanced, grabbing Blair's arm. Blair dropped the wet towel on the floor, tried to steady Jim, only to lose his own footing on a patch of water and he fell against Jim's body. Jim put his other hand out to try and brace them, but gravity won out and they slowly slipped to the floor, Blair landing on those pecs he admired so much, with a loud "Oomph!" Somehow they managed to miss the edge of the bathtub but just then someone tried to open the door and it collided with the back of Jim's head.

Blair took a deep breath and sat up quickly, then scooted back as he found himself straddling Jim's groin. He was prepared for an angry reaction from his friend, but Jim started laughing. Taken off guard, Blair frowned, worried that this latest smack had somehow damaged Jim's brain. He leaned over and gently touched Jim's head, feeling for a bump, which just made Jim laugh louder.

"I'm okay, Chief, it's just...." He waved his hand, indicating their positions and Blair began to see the funny side of their situation. He began to laugh and soon both men were losing it, especially when a couple of very pale faces looked round the door and asked if they were okay.

Jim looked up. "We're fine. Just another minor accident," he managed to explain with a straight face.

Blair bit his lip hard to try and stop laughing out loud.

The monks looked as though they thought both men were crazy but harmless and they ducked out again, closing the door and leaving Jim and Blair alone again.

"Blair," said Jim, wiping the tears caused by all the laughter away from his eyes, "you are so clumsy, my friend, but I love you."

"That's okay, Jim," Blair said, still laughing, as he tried to ease himself up - without colliding with the edge of the sink, "'Cause I love you too."

The world suddenly stopped. Blair looked dumbstruck and terrified.

"Blair...?"

"Jim...?"

Jim pulled himself off the floor carefully. "I meant it, Chief. I have for a long time." Jim pushed Blair's hair back from his eyes, his expression soft and tender.

Blair's smile lit up the room. "Oh man, me too, me too."

Jim grinned lecherously. "So where were we?"

"We were and still are in the bathroom of a monastery."

"Oh, yeah. So shall we take this somewhere else? I think I need a clean shirt!"

"Oh, I don't know. You look pretty good to me just as you are." Blair grinned and did what he'd longed to do, he ran his hands possessively over Jim's chest.

Jim caught both hands and held them over his heart.

"Later, Chief, when we are safely alone, and not about to spook the brothers."

"Spoilsport!" Blair pouted and made a point of considering their options, "Okay, but once we get back to the loft; it's off with the shirt, and everything else, right?"

"On one condition..."

Blair raised his eyebrow in question.

"No basketball, no head-butting and no more blood sports!"

"Agreed, man, totally agreed!" Blair grinned as he raised both hands in mock surrender. "I'm all for making love, not war."