Blair had learned long ago not to take any bed for granted; as a child, there had simply been too many times when he'd gone to sleep in one and awakened in another. By the time he'd moved in with Jim, there had been too many different beds in too many different places for him ever to wake up and assume he knew where he was. Not that it was a problem, really, to take a few seconds and scope out his surroundings, and it was particularly useful when the bed was a woman's. It gave him a chance to get his best 'morning after' persona in place before she woke up, if nothing else.
Or man as the case might be, he thought sleepily, noticing a distinct lack of perfume or any other feminine scent. Definitely not my bed, though. Snuggling down deeper into the ultra-soft cotton sheets and comforter, more reluctant than usual to face the morning, Blair took a deep breath, eyes popping open when he recognized the faint smell clinging to the bedding.
"Jim," he said faintly, and not out of respect for sensitive sentinel ears, either. Taking a swipe at the curls hanging in his face, Blair squinted against the bright morning light and looked around. He was definitely in the big cop's bed, though there was currently no sign of said cop. With a nervous jerk he looked down at himself; he still had on his boxers and tee shirt, but another fast survey of the room didn't turn up his pants or shoes. But his robe was folded neatly over the wire railing at the head of the bed, which made it likely Jim had been the one to put it there.
A glint of shine caught his eye; his glasses were on the nightstand, a note tucked under them. Seeing them made him remember how they had been removed, and he smiled, happier than he'd ever believed possible. He closed his eyes at the sudden surge of tenderness for Jim, all but feeling his partner's incredibly gentle hands remove his glasses for him last night before bestowing yet another of the soul shaking kisses that brought them up to the bedroom in the first place.
Not that either of them had intended to end the day wrapped in each other's arms. Though Blair was only human and had, on occasion, thought about what it would be like to make love to Jim, it had never occurred to him that it might actually happen. Their relationship was way too complicated, almost from the very start, and it wasn't worth it to throw his nascent bi-sexuality, if it could be called that, into the mix.
He knew for a fact that Jim was far more comfortable with his sexuality. Why else would any insults or snide comments about it slide off the sentinel's back without so much as a single flicker of reaction - good, bad or indifferent? Which left exactly what Jim's orientation was a total mystery, as far as Blair was concerned, but, if nothing else, he'd been certain that Jim didn't see him as a potential lover, for whatever reason.
That had changed in an astonishing split second, leaving Jim looking as shocked as Blair had felt. Admittedly that could have been as much their timing as anything else.
....Previously....
It was a perfectly normal, if thoroughly enjoyable, Friday. Not much had gone on at the job: paperwork, witnesses, depositions, and meetings. For once there hadn't been a single crime scene, hostage situation, or run in with the bad guys – just routine and a keen anticipation for the end of the work day.
Once freed from the station, they left in a hurry to go to a football game with Joel Taggart, his treat. The former bomb squad captain was Big Brother to the quarterback of a high school team that had traditionally had losing seasons, but this season was winning every game, thanks to Joel's Little Brother. Not wanting the kid to get discouraged or disappointed because of an unappreciative audience, Taggart was doing his best to create one, dragging along any of his fellow officers that he could coerce into attending the games.
Not that it had taken very much to persuade either Jim or Blair to go; it was a perfect night for a football game. The early evening was just chilly enough to make wearing a jacket a cozy pleasure, and the air was clean and crisp, making everything around them a brilliantly colored and sharply defined. Scents and sounds seemed sharper, too, and Blair caught himself peeking at Jim from the corner of his eye, curious to know if there really was a difference.
Jim caught him at it, of course. All he said when Blair confessed his chain of thought was a simple, 'yes,' the bluntness of it softened by a playful grin. The quiet admission, along with the sentinel's obvious enjoyment of the season and the game, went a long way to making it a wonderful night. It helped that the game was a good one: closely matched and hard fought every step of the way, even into overtime. Cheering himself hoarse, Blair argued plays and referee calls with his partner and Joel, and ate way too much junk food.
All in all he had such a good time that he promised Joel to support the team for the rest of the season, up to and including doing fundraisers with him and recruiting other Major Crimes detectives as fans. When the three of them finally meandered out of the stadium to the truck, flushed with victory and the cold, Blair had been reluctant to go home, much as he loved the loft. Jim wasn't in any hurry, either; he took the long way back, claiming that the traffic would be lighter.
Despite that, the trip was short, and made shorter by the two of them spending it bouncing fundraising ideas off each other, usually serious ones but some were outrageous enough to get both of them laughing. Popping out of the truck once they were in Jim's usual spot in the parking lot, Blair shivered hard and pulled his jacket closer around him. It had gone from mildly chilly to seriously cold during the ride, and not quiet warmed up yet from sitting in the stands in the wind, Blair felt it keenly.
He hurried to the door of the building, leaving his partner to bring in the stadium seats and other gear from the bed of the truck. Fumbling with his keys with popsicle stiff fingers, he got the door unlocked and ran up the steps, already anticipating the comfort of their home. Much to his disappointment, the loft was actually colder than it was outside; cold enough for his breath to rise like mist in the still rooms. Hesitating just inside the door, he huddled into his coat and looked around, trying to see if a window was broken or the balcony doors were forced.
Jim gently pushed past him, senses obviously on the alert as he scanned the immediate area. Not finding anything, he asked Blair to call Mrs. Potter in 203 and ask if the building furnace was out of order while he checked the thermostat. A sneaky way to make sure the elderly lady was okay, Blair thought privately, smiling to himself and picking up the phone, almost dropping it because of numb fingers. Mrs. Patton told him that everything was fine about the same time Jim announced that the thermostat was broken.
A moment's jury-rigging by Jim fixed that, and Blair went to start a fire while he worked, not willing to wait for the furnace to make the loft more livable. Or, he tried to, anyway. By then his hands were so cold that hanging onto the tinder and kindling to place it in the fireplace was a trick. For a minute he tucked his hands into his armpits, then pulled them out to breathe into his cupped palms in a vain attempt to thaw his fingers. Seeing the trouble he was having, Jim captured both of Blair's hands between his own and pulled them to his chest to absorb the generous heat being generated there.
It was a perfectly natural move on the sentinel's part, probably just part and parcel of the natural instinct to protect and serve. But it was also a very intimate one; so intimate that it caught Blair off guard and went straight to his soul. Eyes fixed on the head bent over his suddenly tingling hands, he held in a soft cry of pleasure, heart leaping painfully in his chest. Blood raced to all the wrong places in his body, leaving him light-headed and feeling a little scared.
His scent must have changed as well. As close as they were it was easy to see Jim's nostrils flare slightly, and he jerked up his head to study Blair, though he didn't pull away or pin him with an angry or disgusted look. For a minute he was as closed down as anyone had ever seen him, then his expression changed, shifting subtly to somehow match the crazy yammering in Blair's heart and mind.
They stared into each other for a long, trembling moment, then, still holding Blair's gaze, Jim brushed a kiss over the fingers of the hands he had not released. An instant before he did it, Blair knew that his partner was going to kiss his lips as well, and he wanted it with an eagerness that was as startling as the fact that it was going to happen. He waited, inexplicably shy, and, as if reading that, Jim smiled the oddly wistful half-smile that had always melted Blair, then leaned down and kissed him.
It was different from any first kiss that Blair had ever had, and not because it was his very first from a man. In fact, it didn't feel like a first kiss at all, but as if they were already making love and just hadn't gotten to the naked part yet. He knew Jim's mouth: knew the shape of it, knew the surprising softness and delicacy of the lips, knew the sensitive skill in their caress. A part of him believed whole-heartedly that he had been kissing Jim all his life, and the rest just as firmly believed that it was what he'd been waiting for since the day he was born.
He dismissed the contradictions in that, dismissed anything but the feel of the warm hands holding his own and the warmer mouth loving his. Reveling in the silky-sweet contact, he moaned softly and parted his lips slightly in invitation. But Jim pulled away, deftly moving just beyond reach when Blair instinctively chased after him. Opening eyes he didn't remember closing, Blair blinked in surprise at the evasion, then blinked again, smiling joyously at the open wonder in his new lover's expression.
"Will you move upstairs with me?" Jim asked, a little uncertainly.
Knowing his words had been chosen with exacting precision, Blair immediately answered, "Yes," and was rewarded with a smile that matched his own.
Without another word, Jim turned and led him up the steps to the bedroom, keeping one hand in custody, then sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Blair to him to stand between his spread legs. He reached up and gently removed Blair's glasses, put them on the nightstand, and offered up his face for another kiss.
....Present....
Shivering in delight from the remembered passion and tenderness of that and all the other lovely kisses that had followed, Blair broke out of his reverie and picked up his glasses to read the note Jim left him.
"Simon called – Back asap."
Typical Ellison missive, Blair thought in amusement. Fewest possible words to convey the most meaning. With a last back-popping stretch, he got up and headed downstairs to start his morning. "No name," he mused silently, "Because who else would be reading a note left by his bed? No signature, because who else would leave one there? No 'with love' at the bottom because that was in the very fact that Jim let me sleep in rather than disturb me after a short night."
Feeling very cherished and content, Blair started his shower, wondering how Simon had finagled his best detective into helping him with the landscaping project at his new house that the captain had planned for the weekend. He had no doubt it was that or something else personal, otherwise the note would have said 'work called.' Amusing himself with various ploys that Simon might have used to lure Jim to his place, Blair leisurely washed himself, taking care to get extra squeaky-clean.
When the water began to run cool, he stepped out, knowing from experience that by the time he dried off and tended to his hair, the mirror would be un-fogged enough for shaving. Picking up the shaving gel, he glanced at himself in the mirror, then stopped and stared, vaguely amazed at how normal he looked. After the revelations of last night, shouldn't there be a residual glow, an extra sparkle or brightness in his eyes – something to show the remarkable changes in him? Failing that, shouldn't there at least be a glimmer of self-doubt or uncertainty in his expression?
Musing that over while he ran the razor through his stubble, then made breakfast, Blair finally admitted to himself that uncertainty was impossible in the face of the loving kisses and tender petting of the night before. And nothing had ever felt as right as falling asleep in Jim's arms, despite the frustrated ache in his groin at the time. Nursing his cup of tea after he ate, he though about the whole 'glowing in love' thing and decided it was either simply a romantic myth, or it was a gender related thing that men didn't do.
After all, he'd seen Jim when he was in love and had never noticed anything unusual or out of the ordinary about him while he was in a serious relationship. Except, maybe, that his partner didn't seem to like it very much, let alone enjoy it. Frowning at that thought, Blair considered the women Jim had been with since he'd known him and unhappily came to the conclusion that there was a reason for that. Not only were the circumstances surrounding most of the relationships less than pleasant, but the majority of those women hadn't really treated Jim very well.
To Blair's mind it was a miracle the man was still looking for love at all, let alone was willing to take a chance on a lover that could make him a pariah in the only place he felt he belonged. Vowing that, no matter what, Jim would never, ever, have a reason from him to regret taking that risk, Blair got up to take care of his Saturday chores. All while he worked he was fiercely determined that when his partner got home, the rest of the day would be even better than last night.
It wasn't until he answered a knock at the door and opened it to find Jim on the other side that he realized that might be easier said than done. Laughing your ass off at the sight of your lover could make a romantic evening at home something of a challenge.
Jim looked as if he'd been playing football in the pouring rain in a cow pasture – with the cows. He was spattered from head to heel with mud and manure, except for his feet, which were immaculate and bare. What really hit Blair's funny bone, though, was the tarp slung over the sentinel's shoulder bag style, giving him the appearance of some sort of bizarre Santa Claus.
"Keep it up, Chuckles," Jim said dryly. "And I'll give you a nice, big hug hello!"
Backing off a few feet and holding his hands up defensively, Blair laughed, "Why waste time that you could be using to get that stink off of you? Not to mention that's gotta feel gross. Probably good for your skin, though."
"I've always heard that you have to suffer for beauty," Jim shot back, un-slinging his burden and stretching over the threshold to open it on the floor in front of the door.
Seeing what his partner intended, Blair helped spread the tarp out, unsurprised to see Jim's boots in the center of it. From the pattern of the smudges, he could tell that it had been used for a seat cover to keep the truck clean on the trip back from Simon's. "What happened, anyway?"
"Know those small dump trucks you can rent by the hour at Home Center for do-it-yourself hauling?" Jim asked, stepping on a relatively clean spot on the tarp. At Blair's nod, he went on. "Simon wanted to fertilize his rose bed the natural way, and loaded one up with manure, then decided the easiest fastest way to spread it was to back into the back yard and dump it as he slowly drove out again. Unfortunately it got stuck in the mud about halfway across since he'd already prepped the ground and it rained while he was gone, naturally."
"He called you to help him haul it out with the Ford?" Blair asked automatically, mind not at all on his question. As Jim had talked, he'd started undressing, peeling his soiled flannel shirt off, making his muscles jump and flex as he moved. All Blair could think of was that the perfect body casually being revealed was his to touch, if he wished, and God, how he wished. Mouth dry, heart pounding he watched his lover undress, nearly afraid this was all some kick-ass dream.
When he was naked, Jim simply stood in front of him a minute, letting him drink his fill, then he scooped a blob of mud off his cheek, reached out and dabbed it onto the end of Blair's nose. "If you don't stop looking at me like that, you're going to wind up wearing a lot more of this."
That comment, half-serious and half-teasing was enough to jolt Blair out of his growing sensual haze. Obeying an impulse that he didn't stop to question, he said, "Go clean up; I'll take care of this."
Not trying to hide the relief that flashed across his face, Jim admitted, "The smell is a distraction, and I can't scent you because of it."
Lust instantly transformed into something far stronger, and Blair looked away, swallowing hard. "Go on, go," he ordered softly, and when he could let himself look back at Jim, his lover was already halfway down the hallway, his body language saying somehow that he was pleased.
Getting garbage bags from the kitchen, he gathered up his partner's soiled clothes to throw them away, sure they couldn't be salvaged. The boots were expensive ones, so he decided to at least try to save them, and he picked up the tarp the same way Jim had carried it. With that in one hand and the garbage bags in the other, he went downstairs to the dumpster to trash the clothes, then into the basement to rinse off the tarp and boots in the janitorial sink in the laundry room down there. Taking them up to the roof, he set them out to dry, then hurried back to the loft, already gone longer than he'd wanted to be.
Jim had already finished his shower and was lying stretched out on the couch, channel surfing, wearing the plush white robe that Blair had given him for his last birthday. As the door closed, he rolled to his stomach and smiled, and there, shining in his eyes was what Blair had looked for earlier in himself in the mirror. Not a light exactly, nor a glow, but a visible, nearly tangible joy that went straight from Jim right into Blair, wrapping itself around his heart and mind, until he felt like a beacon burning brightly in the darkest of stormy nights. He had no doubt what he would see if he looked in the mirror, now.
All he wanted to do was to stoke that fire as high as it would go, and to do that he knew without question they both needed to be skin-to-skin. Catching and holding Jim's gaze, he undid the top button and zipper on his pants to let his lover know what he wanted, then he teased by leaving them on and shrugging out of his top shirt instead. Kicking off his sneakers, Blair pulled his henley off over his head in one smooth, flowing motion that he hoped was a sexy looking as it felt.
Once naked, he did as Jim had done earlier and stood there, letting his lover look as long as he wanted to. It was hard for him, and he had to keep controlling the impulse to nervously joke about his imperfections or fidget restlessly in embarrassment. But as Jim's expression morphed from loving admiration to growing desire, it became more and more exciting to be on display, and his body responded a renewal of his earlier arousal.
Despite that, when Jim turned to his side and help open his robe invitingly, Blair didn't hesitate to dive into the waiting embrace. Wrapping both the generous folds of the robe and his own arms around the smaller body, Jim sighed in pleasure as Blair snuggled into position, fitting himself perfectly against him. Murmuring his own appreciation, Blair was content to rest contentedly – for a while, at least. Idly he realized he wouldn't have to worry about what bed he was in, ever again because he knew where he was going to wake up for the rest of his life. In Jim's arms.
finis