Disclaimer: What disclaimer? They are all mine.

Note: I need to blame several people for this piece, though only one of them was aware they were doing anything to drive a story out of me.

Griffin inadvertently set the mood when she asked me to beta her quietly striking story, Undiscovered Country.

Alyjude, as usual, must bear most of the blame, for actively insisting that I should act on a passing idea that occured to me as Aly threw a passing comment about her current story while we were chatting away in a chat window, in a galaxy far far away, somewhen between two time zones so far away they are rarely in the same day.

PattRose unknowingly put the nail in the coffin when she posted a whimsical quote on her webpage
http://hometown.aol.com/pat trose1/page1S.html along with a gorgeous picture of our guys. Those of you who want to know which quote I borrowed from her page will just have to play "find that quote" by going through all her pages. <g>

Thanks also, to Tricia, who read an earlier draft of this story and commented on it.

Any weirdness in this story that cannot be attributed to the people above are my own.

Blair rolled over and stretched out a lazy arm, sleepily grabbing at the covers for a few more minutes of much-desired warmth. His questing hand encountered... fur?

Startled, he opened his eyes, to find himself staring into two big round blue eyes of... a cat?

Blair blinked.

Tentatively, he patted the furry shape beneath his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, shook his head, and opened his eyes again.

The cat stubbornly remained -- a cat.

Short shiny black fur, big blue eyes, sleek and elegant, it lay, crouched on top of the covers right at the edge of the bedsheet, steadily gazing into Blair's eyes, its body soft and warm under his hand.

It was a pretty cat, really.

Blair absentmindedly petted the cat, smoothing out the fur he had ruffled earlier when he first touched it.

The cat blinked, then closed its eyes, relaxing under his hand.

"Hey, pretty," Blair breathed, "Where'd you come from?"

And indeed, where had this cat come from? Jim was obsessively insistent about locking all the doors and windows at night, before going to bed. There should be no opening in the loft where this cat could have walked in. But if it didn't walk in on its own, then somebody had to have let it in -- and the only person who would do such a thing in this loft was Jim -- well, he might, if he had seen the cat, say, walking down the hallway, but he hadn't, so that just left Jim, and well, that was kind of odd, really, because who would have thought Jim would be such a softy that he'll take in strays -- but then, Jim had taken him in, and Blair felt oddly annoyed and comforted at the same time by the flash of the image, of himself as a stray waif, being taken in off the streets by Jim, and of course Jim was a softy underneath all that covert-ops, tough-cop exterior, and he ought to know it by now, right?

Feeling bolder at the cat's obvious acceptance of his caresses, Blair gently grasped its shoulders, holding it in place while he cautiously rolled over onto his side. The cat showed no sign of alarm at Blair's movements, calmly gazing at Blair as he resumed petting it.

"So did Jim let you in, sweetie?" Blair whispered, "Like he did me?"

The cat blinked, then leisurely rolled over onto its side, facing Blair, and slowly yarned, at the same time stretching its legs, its front paws thrusting towards Blair's face, one paw almost touching his nose. Curling back, it vigorously started to gloom itself, starting with its hind leg, and gradually working its way up its body, finally sitting up and settling in to painstakingly lick its forepaw and wash its face.

Blair watched.

Cats, Blair reflected, always seemed to enbody contentment, exude it, epitomize it like no other creature could. Carefully, so as not to dislodge or startle the cat, he shifted about in bed, gently stretching his arms, then legs, and flexing his back.

Sunlight reflected off the shiny fur. Blair marveled at the way it seemed to catch and hold the sun's warmth, reached out again to feel the soft warmth collected there. It was just like a cat, to manage to find and sit in the one tiny patch of sunlight that made its way into his small, cramped cubicle of a bedroom.

But it was his. His space, his room, his little notch in the world, because Jim had given it to him, and he had made himself at home right there, just like this cat. Here was warmth, contentment, everything he ever wanted, here, in this small room. Jim was... where was Jim? No sounds in the loft, except for the gurgle of the coffee maker in the kitchen. So Jim must have gotten up and started the coffee... or wait a moment, did Jim set the coffee maker on timer last night? In any case, he must be up, if he had let this cat in, unless that had happened late last night? Earlier in the morning? But the coffee was ready, and they should be getting up and getting ready for the day anyway, right?

"Jim?" Blair called.

No response. "Jim?" Blair tried again.

Nothing. Well, Jim must be out, then. Probably trying to track down where the cat had come from. Would he be using his Sentinel senses? Blair giggled as he imagined Jim hunched down on the sidewalk, trying to distinguish between multiple cat tracks. After a couple of minutes, he would give up with a disgusted snort, stride off to the little supermarket around the corner, pick up a bag of cat litter and a bag of cat food, maybe a can or two... Later in the day, they'd end up stopping by a pet shop to get a more complete supply of stuff, a collar perhaps, yeah, Jim would insist on a name tag, and that thing on a roller that you used to pick up pet hair, that Jim had once threatened to get so he could use it to pick Blairhair off the couch. Later in the week they'd make a trip to the vet to have the cat checked out.

Yes, Jim Ellison was a softy, who took in stray cats and grad students and gave them a home, who grumbled about the strange smells and noise and the odd hours, then made sure they were fed and warm and healthy and comfortable and loved...

Blair smiled contentedly into the pillow and snuggled up to the cat. "Love you, Jim," he murmured, and nuzzled the soft, warm fur.

The cat purred loudly, the gentle rumbling sound luring Blair back into sleep.

The wood was dark. Gnarled branches seemed to snarl and reach out, ready to grab his hair and arms, twisted roots seemed determined to entangle his feet and hold him fast. Gasping, he fought his way through the dense foilage, not knowing which way he was going, or even if he was moving at all.

Ahead, in the clearing, a shadowy figure hunched next to a dark fire, unhurriedly stirring the contents of the cauldron.

"Hey, man," said the figure, without looking up. "Been waiting for you. You ever wonder," it continued, conversationally, "how, you know, if you are in hell, and you are mad at someone, where the hell do you tell them to go?"

And Lash looked up and smiled.

Blair jerked awake.

His groping hand encountered... solid chest?

Startled, he opened his eyes, to find himself staring into the smiling blue eyes of... Jim?

Blair blinked.

Tentatively, he rubbed the smooth skin beneath his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, shook his head, and opened his eyes again.

Jim remained -- Jim.

"Hey, there," Jim breathed.

"Hey," Blair returned. And it just seemed so natural that Jim's hand should make its way into his curls, that Jim should use that hand to tug his face gently into position, and kiss him, gently lapping at his lips until he opened them with a moan, and then Jim's tongue had slipped in and was softly stroking his tongue, tracing the roof of his mouth, gliding over his teeth.

Blair turned, unresisting, as Jim tugged at his t-shirt, obediently raising his arms so it could be pulled off, vaguely aware that Jim was already naked, and hard, then he raised his hips as Jim tugged off his boxers, and then they were both naked, and he was making strangled noises in the back of his throat as Jim caressed him with hands and lips, and doing his best to return the favor.

Blair let himself be spread open, and prepared, resisting only when Jim reached for the condom, clamping down tight on Jim's wrist until his knuckles were white. Jim looked into his eyes.

"Nobody else, Blair," Jim whispered, "Promise." He kissed Blair on the lips, lightly. "Let me protect you, okay?"

And Blair squeezed his eyes tight, and let go of Jim's wrist.

He couldn't hold back the strangled gasp as he was breached, but he clung to Jim, pressing their bodies tightly together, giving Jim no chance to back away.

And Jim didn't, just held him until he relaxed, then pressed in further, slowly, patiently. And when he was all the way in, they just lay there quietly, feeling each other's deep breaths and rapid heartbeats, marveling at the feel of each other in their arms, the contrast between the softness of skin and hard muscles underneath, soaking in the warmth of each other's bodies, the scent of their sweats mingling, until finally they started to move, slowly at first, long, deep thrusts that had Blair moaning incoherently. This... this was good, this was right, this was Jim, this was everything he had wanted and hadn't known he wanted, he had been a stray waif even if he hadn't known it, and Jim had picked him up and given him a home and made sure he was fed and warm and healthy and comfortable and loved...

He came, shuddering out his completion, and Jim held him through it, cradling him with infinite gentleness.

And he looked into Jim's eyes, gazing into the depth of the clear blue eyes, seeing them gazing back at him with all the love and care he ever needed, felt Jim brush the hairs back from his forehead with a touch that could only be called reverent, and closed his eyes as Jim began thrusting again, short, gentle thrusts, and dear god, it was good, it was even better, to lie there and let Jim take pleasure from his body, to hold him and wait for him to reach that point. And when it came, he held Jim, thrilling in the shudders running through Jim's body, embracing the wide expanse of Jim's shoulders and his broad back in his arms, his legs wrapped around Jim's strong thighs, determined to hold the connection of their bodies for as long as he could.

The wood was dark. The fire beneath the cauldron was even darker. Lash continued to stir, dipping in a finger and thoughtfully tasting the contents.

"Well, guess what?" Lash said, smiling ferally. No eyes shone in his face, only darkness. "We are in hell, and I can't tell you to go to hell, since we are already here, can I?" Lash chuckled, and the sound spread hollowly through the air, tangling in his stomach into tight, painful knots. "What a dilemna," Lash continued, still chuckling. "Well, you know what? I have an answer to our nasty little problem."

Lash raised a thin arm into the air, holding up a small glass chalice. The glass gleamed darkly in the darkness, glowing even darker as Lash poured the contents of the cauldron into it. Grinning, Lash turned his hollow gaze toward him, came closer, holding the chalice.

He tried to struggle, but he was tied in a chair, gnarled veins wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso, holding him in place, as Lash approached, slowly coming closer.

"See," Lash mumured, waving the chalice over his face, "I curse you, you who have my blood on your hands. You shall be small, insignigicant, dumb, dependent, and defenseless." Lash snarled. "Only when your true love declares love to your face will this curse be broken. And it has to be meant, truly meant. But then, you won't be able to explain that to anybody, would you? Much less woo the one you love..."

And then Lash was pouring the potion into his mouth, and he was choking, trying to sputter out the vile liquid, trying desperately not to swallow...

Blair woke with a gasp. Shit, that was a weird dream. He tried to take a deep breath, and found he couldn't. He hefted himself a bit, trying to slide out from under Jim. Sure, it felt good to be in his arms, but too much of a good thing... And right now, Jim was definitely a bit much. Way much.

"Jim?"

"hmmmm?"

Wiggle, wiggle. A little bit more to the side. There. Now what to do with his arm?

"Not that I don't love this, I mean, I really, really, like, totally, dig it, but..."

"hm?"

"You are crushing me, man."

"oh, sorry."

Tug. Push. Pull. Tuck. Roll shoulders. Wiggle again.

Okay, he could breath, all his limbs were safe from having all feelings squeezed out from them, and he was snuggled comfortably on top of the Jim mattress.

Now for the big question.

"Jim? Why were you in my bed?"

"..."

Wiggle a bit more. Need to take this upstairs. Definitely upstairs.

"I mean, I'm glad you did, you know, but what... I mean, why did you do this today, instead of yesterday, or last week, or next month, or when hell freezes over?"

"..."

"Well?"

"You said you love me."

"Yeah, but that was... Wait a minute, where's that cat? Jim? Jim, man, what is it? Come on, you can tell me. Oh, man it can't be that bad, is it? Jim? Jim? Um, Jim? Man, aren't we supposed to get up and go to the station? What time is it? I have an early afternoon class... uh..."

On the other hand, maybe talk could wait...

Lash screamed in frustration as he smashed the cauldron, shattering it into a million pieces, glittering darkly in the depths of hell.