CONVERSATIONS

Bounding into the bullpen, Blair looked around excitedly for his partner, wanting to share with him the discovery he had in his hand. A quick look told him Jim wasn't in the room and he deflated momentarily. Well, Jim probably wouldn't be that up about a new listening device, anyway - even one based on Blair's own studies of Jim's ability to focus his hearing. It was a prototype, too, but he was sure that Jim would agree to talk directly to the tech who built it. Especially if he could be convinced that it could be useful to the department.

Having evidence to present with his new toy would help, and Blair turned his attention on how to gain it. He wandered around the bullpen, thinking and planning, then saw Jim arrive. From his vantage point it was easy for him to see Jim come into the room with his brother, Steven, and not at all surprising they didn't see him before going into one of the briefing rooms. Not that Jim was looking; whatever he and Steven were talking about, it had to be intense.

Later, Blair would tell himself it was a combination of curiosity and protectiveness. What could they be talking about that made them shut out everyone? Was Jim finally breaking down and telling Steve about his sentinel abilities? They both looked deadly serious. Oh, grief, what if they were arguing? Their friendship was tenuous at best... Without conscious decision, he inserted the ear piece and brought the mechanism to bear on the conversation, adjusting its controls.

"...can't believe you became a cop, of all things. Military, ok, that I can almost see - order, discipline, structure. But a cop? Who did time in Vice? I *cannot* see that. My by-the-book brother doing the ultimate fly-by-your-seat job, Vice."

"I'm not in Vice now," Jim said mildly.

"No, but I've seen the ad-lib way you work with that civilian partner of yours. Your absolutely beautiful partner, I might add." Steven's voice became teasing and light.

"You forgot spirited, independent, courageous, intelligent…" Jim said with a smile in his voice.

"Drop dead gorgeous." Steven popped in.

"Gifted, hard working, talented, resourceful," Jim went on doggedly.

"Breath takingly lovely," Steve persisted.

"And not at all hard on the eyes," Jim finished, agreeably.

Blushing all the way from his toes to his eyebrows, Blair almost dropped the bug. Surely Jim had seen or heard him and was razzing him, big time. Furtively, he double-checked his location relative to the brothers. Scrunching smaller, he pulled back until he could barely see them, and concentrated on his breathing exercises to steady his heart and pulse. His aim with the device never wavered.

"Jimmy's got a sweetheart, Jimmy's got a sweetheart," Steve was chanting in a child's singsong.

'Jimmy's' reply wasn't understandable, but it held the age-old tones of the suffering big brother.

"Aww, come on, admit it. Big brother's got a crush, on a *guy* no less." There was a distinct edge to Steve's voice, now.

Blair wondered why he was pushing it, and Jim inadvertently answered him. "Steve, I'm not the old man. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop expecting me to act like him. I don't care if you screw a hole in the wall, as long as it's of legal age and you use protection."

It was silent for a minute, and to Blair, Steve's body language screamed fear. "Guess I can't believe you're not having trouble with it. That you never told the bastard." He made a half-circle with one hand, as if brushing away his mean words from earlier. "Wanted to bring you down to my level. I know you're unrelentingly straight, and I've seen how he goes after women."

After studying his brother, Jim visibly decided to do something to bridge the pain and fear between them. He gripped the edges of the table he was leaning on and bent forward a bit, head dropped, hiding his face from the other man. "Yeah, well, I do love him," he admitted, softly, "as much as I'm capable of loving anyone."

Steve took the gift with the reverence it deserved. "Christ!"

Blair almost fell over, and he lost the ability to breathe. Head spinning, he didn't hear Steve's first words when he broke the long silence in the briefing room. ".... doesn't know, does he? And you're not planning on telling him either?"

"Why?" Jim sounded genuinely puzzled. "He's my friend, my partner, my roommate. We're already more *together* than Carolyn and I ever were."

Strain showing at the effort, Steve tried to make his answer flippant, "Well, there's the sex."

With a tiny shrug, Jim dismissed the effort at humor and said seriously, "You don't miss what you've never had. I wouldn't know what to do with him, anyway." He had been looking at Steve, but turned away now, getting up from the table to stare out into the bullpen. "I've never, uh, needed it, the way other people seem to. Celibacy isn't a problem."

"Christ." Steve said, again. He went to stand by his brother. "Jim, if you don't tell him, he'll leave."

"Of course. You can leave a friend behind, though, for a new job or an important, exciting expedition and come back to pick up right where you left off. Lovers can't do that. What is there to hold him to me in any case? What do I have to offer? My microscopic pension and the joy of waiting for the 'I regret to inform you' phone call?" For the first time, Jim's patient words took on a hint of hurt. "Besides, Steven, Blair's so straight, he makes me look like a drag queen. Telling him gains me nothing, and risks the most important thing in my life. I'm trusting you, here."

Nodding, Steven laid a careful hand on the older man's shoulder. "I won't say anything, I promise." He turned away, and made another attempt at easing the weight of the room, "I can't believe you do without, though. How do you keep from going crazy?"

Jim's whispered reply was so low, Blair doubted Steven heard him. "Turned the dial down."

"Huh?"

"I said, not all of us think with our balls." Jim went along with Steven's effort, rather awkwardly, this time, and his voice was nearly humorous.

"Who said anything 'bout thinking with 'em? Thinking about using them, yes. Definitely, yes."

"If you don't think with them, why...."

A loud knock at the briefing room door stopped the conversation and deafened Blair. He yanked the earphone out of his ear, then mindlessly made a break for it, terrified they would come out and spot him. Habit got him safely to his office at the university where he sat, questions and thoughts stirring madly, dismantling the listening device.

To his amazement, habit mercifully carried him through the next few days. Distracted, upset, Blair tried to put the conversation out of mind, but certain phrases would leap at him, catching him unawares. *As much as I'm capable of loving anyone.... nothing to hold him to me.... what do I have to offer..... turned the dial down....* He watched Jim more closely, listened more carefully, at the same time somehow making sure Jim didn't notice his confusion.

Blair noticed many things. He noticed that Jim always kept him within easy reach. The sidewalk could be totally deserted and a mile wide, and Jim would walk close enough for their hips to bump. He noticed that he never had less than a quarter tank of gas in his car, or had to replenish the supply of coffee in his office. He noticed whatever decisions he made, good or bad, Jim supported him completely. Complainingly, teasingly, grumpily, as well, maybe, but Jim backed him without hesitation.

None of this was new, really. On some level, he had always been aware of it. It wasn't that intimate, but Jim didn't do it for Simon or anyone else he called friend. In fact, the most intimate thing Jim did was something Blair never had had reason to think about, it had always been so natural. The first time Jim saw him each day the other man found a reason to touch. It could be a pat on the back, or a quick tap on the arm, but Jim said hello with a touch. He ended the day with one too, if he could.

Eventually, Blair shoved the conversation, haunting phrases and all, out of his mind. It didn't really matter what name was used for the emotion Jim had for him. Nothing was different between them and *that* was what mattered. Blair nestled back into the folds of his life. If he was more content than he had ever been before, well, he didn't have to give a reason, did he?

As Much As I'm Capable

With a frustrated snarl, Jim slapped the door, just as the perp slammed it shut. The lock fell in place, leaving him and his partner trapped in the storage building. He took the classic listening pose, then slapped the door again. "Already half way back to Cascade." Shifting gears abruptly, he whirled to face his downed friend. "Sandburg?"

"J...just...w..inded." Blair panted.

Ignoring the comment, Jim came over to kneel beside him, and patted him down quickly to check for injuries. Blair thumped him on the arm in assurance, and Jim returned it, giving his attention to their prison.

It wasn't much of a building - four walls, about 10' by 10', one door, no windows. Plainly it wasn't meant to be anything except a way to keep the wind from blowing away the paper until the recycling plant was ready for it. Ok, maybe a really strong wind, Blair amended as Jim tested the strength of the door, and the construction of the building. Reaching for the cell, Blair mentally braced himself for Simon's anger at letting their main suspect get away.

At Blair's muffled cry, Jim came back to sit beside him. "Sandburg?"

"S...tupid cell phone.. mmm musta shorted or 'smthing when I fell in that puddle." Blair stuttered through chattering teeth. He held the unresponsive instrument out to his partner, half hoping Jim would be able to see how to fix it. It was certain he couldn't; the watery moonlight that filtered through the cracks was barely enough to be able to call the room not-dark.

"You called for backup?"

"Y.. yeah. When we ffff first ggggg got here."

"Damn. The Industrial Park covers acres." Jim looked around their temporary quarters, then started stripping off his jacket. "They'll have to search the entire complex, Chief, and the temperature is already at freezing. You're going to have to get as dry as you can, or you're going to have a problem." He took off his shirts, handing the tee shirt to Blair. "Strip, then dry off as best you can with that. Then put my coat on. How wet is your hair?"

"Jjjjj just sp sp splashed. I can't, man." Blair forced his words to firm. "You'll freeze."

Already buttoning his top shirt back on, Jim stood. "We're out of the wind, so it won't be too bad. But you're wet; hypothermia is a real possibility here." He left, going to one of the stacks of newspaper and undoing a bundle, from the sound of it. "And we can use some of this for insulation."

Clamping his lips shut, Blair looked down at his soaked clothes, at the faint outline of the studiously turned back of his partner, then in the general direction of the discarded cell phone. With resignation, he began to fumble with the zipper on his soaked jacket. By the time he got to skin, he was shaking with cold and could hardly navigate the cloth over his body to dry. He hustled into Jim's coat, still damp, but not able to deal with the cold a second more. Miraculously, it was still warm from Jim's body, and he squatted down to cover his bare legs and tuck his feet under the edge.

Still shivering, he listened to Jim shred newspaper after newspaper. "Maybe we could have a fire? I've got a lighter with me."

His eyes must have adjusted; he could see Jim's negative headshake. "Too risky. Nothing but paper in here; one spark and we're cooked. Get over here, Sandburg. It'll help."

Trying not to yelp from the cold hitting his bare legs and swarming into his warm jacket, Blair practically ran and dived into the nest prepared for him. "One joke about hamsters or gerbils, and I swear I'll, I'll... " he started.

"Would you care to be arrested for threatening an officer, Chief?" Jim butted in.

"I don't know. Is the cell warm?"

Jim gave a snort of laughter, then moved off, shoving and pushing at the planks in the wall to test them. Absorbed by trying to tuck the coat all around him so that no cold drafts tormented him, Blair let him go. Finally, giving up on being comfortable, he tried to warm himself by concentrating on images of jungles and other warm climates. It seemed to be working; he got drowsy, grateful his fingers and toes were numb.

"Blair, wake up! Wake up!" Jim's voice was sharp, and he had a painful grip on his curls.

"Hey, man, leggo," Blair mumbled. "I'm juss beginning to get warm."

"No, no you're not. Chief, come on, stand up. Your lips are blue and you're not shivering any more." Jim slid a hand into the collar of the coat, placing his hand squarely on Blair's chest. "Damn, damn. Come on!" he said at the low temperature he felt.

Shaking his head groggily, Blair tried to stand, but his numb feet wouldn't support him. "Ok, ok, I know I'm in trouble here."

Wrapping both arms around his partner, Jim began rubbing vigorously on Blair's back. "We can get you warmed, partner."

"Wait, let me think a minute, let me think." Blair eased away and began swinging his arms. It didn't make him any warmer, but did help get his brain working. "You're the medic. What else can you do to treat hypothermia?" Blair knew, but also knew the information was going to have to come from Jim if he was going to get the bigger man to work on it.

"Share body warmth," Jim muttered reluctantly, several very long minutes later.

"I can get behind that," Blair said matter of factly.

"Blair..."

"It'll help you, too. And don't try to tell me that you aren't hurting; I could feel those shudders when you were hugging me a second ago."

With a sigh that seemed to fill the small building, Jim capitulated. "I don't suppose you can generate enough heat just by arguing with me about this, can you?"

"Uh, uh." Blair had to force the negative past teeth locked against chattering.

That small effort sent Jim into action. Undoing the coat, he scooted close to the smaller man to hold him again.

"W...wait. Idea." Blair took off the coat completely. "Put it on backwards, arms empty and inside out." he managed fairly clearly. At Jim's hesitation, he added. "T..Trust me." Jim did as asked, and Blair, after several false starts, zipped the jacket up the back. He yanked on the front of it, nodding in satisfaction at the bagginess of the fit. "Good."

Without warning, he began to wiggle under the edge of it, inserting himself into the gap between the fabric and Jim's body. Realizing what he was up to, the bigger man helped by putting his hands under Blair's arms and pulling. Before long, Blair was sitting on Jim's lap, legs around his waist, feet tucked into the back (front), completely covered by the coat and laying on his partner's chest.

Hands on Blair's back, Jim rubbed carefully, trying to create at least the illusion of warmth. "Stay awake, Chief. At least until your core temp comes back up."

"That goes double for you. I want plenty of warning that Simon or whoever is coming. I *do not* want to be caught naked as the day I was born by a bunch of uniforms. I'm just beginning to live down 'Hairboy'."

"After what you did to Denson, I don't think any of the uniforms are going to give you a hard time, Sandburg."

"Aww, man, he startled me."

"Blair, that move could have come from a Kung Fu master. You straightened, pivoted, put a boot in the middle of his chest and shoved him through the window so fast, *I* didn't see it clearly. Then you're helping him up, apologizing."

"I said he startled me," Blair repeated sulkily.

"*How*, Chief?" Jim's voice was honestly curious.

Considering the situation, Blair decided, being obtuse wouldn't be very productive. "He goosed me." Blair groused.

"What?" Jim asked, confused.

"He put his hand on my butt, ok?" Blair nearly yelled.

Ostentatiously, Jim lifted his hands to Blair's shoulder blades and planted them there.

Biting back a chuckle, Blair answered the action with, "I didn't kick because of the hand; I kicked because it was Denson. Major creepazoid, man."

To his surprise, Jim asked seriously, "It would have been different if it had been someone else?"

"Sure. If it had been Joel, I'd have made a joke. If it had been Ryf, I would have flirted."

"With Ryf? Sandburg are you telling me you'd flirt with a gay man? Isn't that..."

"Ryf's gay!? How'd you... never mind. Hey, you're right; I wouldn't flirt with him. I don't like Ryf enough to go through with it if he pushes. Not that I don't like him, just not that way, you know. Of course, if we both know its meaningless firting, I don't see why we couldn't have some fun, shake a few people up..."

"Hold on there, Chief. Hold on. What do you mean you don't like him enough? Do you mean you would if you did?" Jim's voice was very intent now, and the conversation Blair overheard weeks earlier zoomed through his head.

Thinking as he spoke, wanting truth on this to be beyond doubt, Blair answered slowly. "If I loved him, yes I would, Jim. And no, I don't think of myself as gay or bi or any other label. I *adore* women, and I notice only them, sexually. If a man got that close to me, though, and wanted me that way... well, I'd be at least willing to try. I don't have anything against it, and I've always been adventurous in the bedroom."

They were both quiet after that, and underneath his ear, Blair listened to Jim's heartbeat. It stayed even and steady, and Blair wondered if he had misunderstood what Jim had told Steven. "Your turn, buddy," he prodded. "If we're doing true confessions here, I want my share of the dirt out of pure self defense."

Blair let Jim sit with his silence as long as he needed, soaking in the warmth of his friend as he did. Half expecting the bigger man to put him off with a cold excuse or a blunt no, he jumped a bit when Jim did answer him. "From the way my old man used the word faggot, I grew up with the idea that they were people who were weak and stupid, less than men. When I discovered what that it meant a man who had sex with a man, I didn't understand how that was possible.

"You don't stay that naive for long, and by the time the mechanics made sense to me, I'd pretty much dropped the misconceptions. I'd like to think I don't have any prejudices. In fact, I've been accused of being blind to it, because I've been hit on a couple of times and didn't realize what was going on." Jim shrugged uneasily. "I simply can't think of applying the idea of gay sex to myself."

"And if you were in love with a man?" Blair literally held his breath after asking that. In the quiet that came after it, he heard Jim's heart begin to race.

Despite that Jim's reply was mild. "I don't think I've never been in love, Blair."

"...Carolyn....?"

"Asked me to marry her. Jack had vanished a short time earlier, I was getting out of Vice... having a wife and starting a family seemed a good way to cement the changes in my life. Stupid reason to marry, I know."

"You've never told someone you love them?" Blair's voice was incredulous.

"Once or twice, before I was old enough to know whatever it was I was feeling, it wasn't love. What is love anyway?" Jim shrugged again.

"Lazarus Long said it's when your own happiness is dependent upon the happiness of someone else."

"Laz.. who? Chief?"

"Never mind. I've always kind of thought that it's like justice or honor. It can only be seen by what it has done. Like the wind, you know? You can see where it is as it moves - feel it, hear it, but can't touch it. It touches you, and even if you've never felt it before, you *know* what it is when it does."

By the time Blair finished, the heart under his ear was beating so hard, it had to be painful. "Deep thoughts for some one who's racing his way through the entire female population of Cascade," Jim teased, obviously trying to divert the conversation into less intense channels.

Blair let him get away with it, not certain why he had let the whole topic go as far as he did. "Not all of them! Just the ones between 19 and 30 something!"

"Well, at least you have some standards!"

"Oh, they have to be able to hold a conversation, too. I mean, we have to have something to do when we're getting dressed after."

Imagining Jim's rolled eyes, Blair began laughing, and the two of them kept the conversation in that vein until Simon pounded on the locked door, demanding to know what was so funny about letting their prime suspect get away.

What Do I Have To Offer

"Steven!" Blair stood at the door of the loft, book in hand, finger marking his place. He made no move to let the other man in, saying instead, "Jim's not home; he's doing a double at work."

"I know, I spoke to him on the phone. He told me you were working on a paper and didn't want to be disturbed. But I hate eating by myself and thought you might be ready for a dinner break by now." He lifted the bag he had in hand suggestively, smiling easily, and Blair could see the logo of an expensive restaurant on it.

Not wanting Steven to feel unwelcome, but not really willing to interrupt the flow he had established, Blair hesitated. "I don't know, man, I've got a deadline here."

"Come on, Blair, you need to eat. Keep the energy level up," Steven coaxed, and the grad student wondered if he was imaging the hint of desperation in the words.

Over the past couple of months he had shared several evenings with Jim and his brother. Maybe it had been because he was acting as sort of a control rod as the two worked on rebuilding their relationship, but he had always felt uneasy with Steven. Not that Jim's brother had actually said or done anything, but he couldn't help but feel Steven had a hidden agenda. Once or twice, Jim had been unable to make a planned meeting, and Blair had been a reluctant stand in. Steven's overly attentive attitude at those times intensified that impression.

The aroma of freshly cooked food, along with a sudden decision to bring that agenda to light, had Blair stepping back and gesturing him in. The self-satisfied look that flashed over Steven's handsome features confirmed Blair's intuition that there was more to his presence than a wish for dinner company.

Regardless, the meal went smoothly and pleasantly, with the two men exchanging stories about their many travels. Blair reflected, privately, that Steven probably had more mileage, but he had certainly had more interesting ones. Chuckling at the punch line for some tale about an embarrassing evening at the French ballet, Blair stood and began gathering the used dishes as a hint it was time for Steven to leave.

Steve didn't take it. He followed Blair into the kitchen, sipping on a glass of the wine he had brought. Watching Blair start the dishes without so much as offering to help clear the table, he leaned on the counter next to the sink. Mildly annoyed - the man did pay for the meal, but Blair hadn't asked for it - Blair turned his back on his guest and concentrated on his task.

"Why not leave that 'til tomorrow? They can wait, and I thought you had school work to do."

"It's not for school, it's for the New England Journal of Science," Blair answered distantly, "and Jim hates dirty dishes in the sink." //The smell bothers him,// he thought, but didn't say out loud. Somehow, he knew that even if Steven knew about Jim's senses, he wouldn't understand the act of consideration

Steven chuckled, a sour sound, and said, "You pay rent. It'll do big brother good not to always get his way. How much do you pay, anyway?"

Blandly, Blair replied, "That, Steven, is none of your business."

With an expansive gesture that contemptuously took in the entire loft, Steven laughed, "Not much I hope! Your room is barely a closet, and this place must be a nightmare to heat."

"The price is right, and my schedule is so busy I'm only here to sleep most of the time, anyway." Blair kept his voice smoothly cheerful, putting an emphasis on the word 'busy.'

Ignoring this hint, too, Steven put his glass aside and looked very serious. "How would you like to live in a climate controlled condo with total security and a master bedroom complete with attached bath."

"Yeah, like a grad student can afford something like that."

"He could if he were working as a cultural consultant to my company. In fact, it would be a perk, a freebie."

Very slowly, not sure he liked where this could be leading, Blair asked, "What would this consultant do for said very impressive perk?"

"My company has many over-seas contacts, and is beginning to expand into more. Having someone who could help us avoid communication pitfalls, cultural insults, or point out exploitable customs and beliefs would be more than worth the use of one of the company-owned condos. Hey, they own the building - rent on one unit is nothing."

Wondering if Steven knew how smug he sounded, Blair said bluntly, "I'm not available, but I know some students who could certainly do the job as well as I could."

"I'm not interested in them. I want you for the job."

"Why?" Blair asked flatly, looking up from the dishes and fixing Steven with a hard look.

For the first time, Steven looked and sounded more human than the corporate suit he usually presented himself to be. "Blair, settling things with Jim, establishing, well, family ties with him has been wonderful. But the best part of it has been spending time with you. I've thoroughly enjoyed all the time I've had in your company. Especially when it's just been the two of us, like the game the other night."

//Which you all but demanded that I go to when you showed up with tickets, claiming you had forgotten Jim had plans that evening.// "Steven, I'm not available." was all Blair said out loud.

"You're the most beautiful, spirited human I've ever had the pleasure to see. In any setting - whether it's one of those plebian poker games Jim and his buddies indulge in or an A-list party like the both of you attended with me - you're the one everyone wants to talk to and spend time with. You're graceful, charming and entertaining.

"All I want is a chance to become your friend and for us to learn about each other. If we worked together, it would be so much easier. Neither of us would have to carve time out of our schedule."

"I am not available." Blair repeated, firmly, trying very hard to get through to the other man. His tone must have penetrated at least a bit; the note of desperation returned to Steven's voice.

"I don't want anything physical, I swear. I'll never even try to touch you, unless you want me to. I just want to spend some time with you, see if there is any chance at all that you could care for me."

Blair took his hands out of the dishwater and dried them, then reached to tap Steven once on the forearm. "Listen to me, Steven Ellison. I mean it! Pay attention to my words and think about them, OK? Ready?

"I love teaching, and I wouldn't give it up for anything. And the work I do for Major Crimes is important. Aside from being Jim's partner, I help a lot of good people at a time when it means to the most to them. And the loft," Blair used almost the same gesture as Steven had earlier, but his spoke only of inclusion, "is my home.

"I. Am. Not. Available."

As he had requested, Steven was quiet, thinking on the declaration. Giving him time, and yet another hint, Blair left the kitchen and started setting up his laptop on the table. As he turned it on, he heard from behind him, "You're in love with him, aren't you?!" Steven accused, "You're in love with Jim."

On the screen of the machine in front of him a message from his appointment calendar was flashing. "Eat, Sandburg. Eat." He hadn't put it there, which meant Jim had taken time to figure out the program and put it in. Steven's words and the electronic message coalesced inside him, and Blair replied sincerely, without thinking, "Yes, I am."

"And you're going to hang around, waiting for him to notice and kick you out?" Steven almost shouted. "Or do you think that by some miracle you'll be able to get that heartless Neanderthal to love you back?!"

Preoccupied by the shifts of feeling and thought inside himself, Blair told him absently, "I know he loves me."

Steven grabbed Blair by one arm and spun him around, holding him by the forearms. "The man isn't capable of loving you the way you deserve, Blair! I can! We can travel the world together, living a life of success and ease. There can be grants from the company for your research, contacts that can set you up professionally for life. You can have anything!"

Standing passively, Blair smiled beatifically, "I already *have* everything, Steven. Jim gave it to me."

The pure confidence in that statement gave Steven pause. Then his face grew ugly and he shook the smaller man. "Can he give you passion? Pleasure? Are you going to spend the rest of your life taking unwanted women because my straight bother can't get it up for you? Or, God forbid, settling for 5 minutes every other Saturday, after too many beers and a game on the tube?"

Leaning back and trying to get away, Blair said coldly, "That is *definitely* none of your business! I think you had better leave now, before you go where we don't need to be!"

"It *is* my business, damn it. I know I could make you happy! I know I could!" He gave Blair another small shake with each word, then yanked him tight against his body, bending his head to try to cover Blair's mouth with his.

Blair twisted his head away, squirmed an arm free, and punched Steven in the stomach. Half-staggering, Steve lost his hold, but reached again pleadingly.

"Get out! Now!" Blair ordered.

"You can't throw me out of my own brother's home!" Steven gasped.

From the door, Jim said coldly, "Yes he can. It's his home, too."

"Jim!" Blair and Steven said with almost identical astonishment, though for vastly different reasons.

Wordlessly, Jim held the door open, and gestured for Steven to go. Looking back and forth between the roommates and seeing no quarter from either of them, Steven sullenly did as he should. He half started a general apology, but left before the words were more than partially formed.

As he left, Jim murmured, "Call me. At work. Don't call Blair. He'll find a way to let you know if he wants to talk with you."

Then the door was closed, leaving the partners alone.

Turned The Dial Down

Blair didn't watch Steven leave or look at his roommate. He stood with his back to the room, leaning on his fists on the back of the couch. Waiting until he heard the click of the closing door, he asked as tonelessly as possible, "How long have you been listening?"

He stole a quick look over his shoulder to see Jim standing head down, studying the floor, hands in his pockets. "Since you told Steven to listen to you. It was your 'guide' voice and I tuned in without thinking." There was a minute of quiet, then Jim went on. "Blair, what you said to Steven... if it was just to put him off, I understand. Obfuscation is your..."

"I meant it, Jim." Blair couldn't take his eyes off his fists. "I didn't know until I said it, but I meant it." Taking a deep, shaky breath, Blair said, "I'm still processing it, man. It's like my insides are flipping around here, you know?"

Ruefully, Jim answered, "Yeah. I've got a pretty good idea." Another fast look told Blair that Jim was toying with the contents of his pockets, head still down.

"When, I mean, how did you, I mean, shit!" Blair leaned further over the back of the couch and tried to take measured breaths.

"Not quite a year," Jim answered the mangled question softly. "You were talking with Ryf about something, lit up like Las Vegas during Christmas. You made a comment then covered your mouth as though you wished you hadn't let those particular words slip out. I watched your fingers on your mouth and suddenly realized I wanted... I wanted..."

He trailed off and Blair turned around to see him walking purposely for the door. Without thinking about it, he darted after Jim and stopped him by catching the back of his shirt. "You wanted?" he demanded.

With a rusty pivot, Jim faced his partner. Holding Blair’s eyes, he raised his right hand, stopped the action halfway to his partner’s face, dropping it back for a moment, then abruptly completed the movement. Hand shaking, he hesitantly caught a lock of hair that was falling over the left ear, and slid the length of it through his fingers. He tucked it behind the ear, then continued the caress along Blair's jawline.

Holding perfectly still, knowing somehow that these were delaying tactics, Blair waited. With a sigh that reverberated inside both of them, Jim cautiously let his touch drift to his guide’s lips. The first three digits rested lightly there, and Blair couldn't stop his tongue from nervously tasting them.

Jim's sigh this time was nearly a moan, and he slowly lifted his still shaking hand. He inspected the moisture left on his finger tips, then slowly brought them to his mouth. Focusing on Blair's mouth as he did, he tentatively tasted the traces left on himself.

Mesmerized, Blair followed each motion unconsciously licking his lips again as Jim sampled his flavor. His rapt attention enabled him to get under Jim and break his fall when the bigger man gave a huge shudder and collapsed.

They wound up with Blair sitting back against the door, holding the insensible man half across his lap. Jim's legs were curled under him, and his head was held against Blair's chest. Making nonsense sounds, he rocked both of them, waiting for the sentinel to recover. The first sign he had of it was when Jim slowly wrapped both arms around his waist, bunching his hands into the fabric at the back of his shirt. As hugs went, it was awkward, but strong, and Blair returned it, vainly trying to match his friend's force.

Jim began to mouth the fine hairs along Blair's neckline, pulling on them tenderly. It was a shocking contrast to the hug and his breath caught in his chest. A chill of pleasure clenched his fingers, toes, and stomach, and he caught at the back of Jim's head, trying to prolong the touch. It didn't work; Jim used his teeth to lightly drag a line down to his shoulder. Blair tilted back his head, encouraging, and the big man took it willingly, placing a sucking bite on the column of his throat.

Panting, still holding onto his lover as powerfully as he could Blair shifted blindly, trying to bring his growing erection into contact with Jim. Reacting by maneuvering them until Blair was stretched out full length under him, Jim lifted his head and smiled slightly down into the burning blue hunger shining up at him. Putting his weight carefully on the smaller man, Jim brought one solid thigh between Blair's, pressing onto the hard length there.

With a harsh, breathy cry, Blair locked both legs around that one of Jim's, and lunged up to take a kiss. He was met halfway, and he thrust his tongue past its counterpart to claim its home as his, even as he began to ride against him. Meeting his urgency easily, Jim brought both arms under his lover, one palm going to the flat of his back to hold him close. The other palm created a pillow for Blair, allowing them both to deepen their kiss.

Never before had Blair felt so completely encompassed by love and passion. He was surrounded by it, filled by it, overwhelmed by it. Bucking into Jim, he tried to hold back, afraid of hurting him. Jim answered him with equal intensity, and Blair realized, for the first time, he didn't have to worry. He didn't have to hold back. With a wanton shout he let go, giving his new lover everything he had and taking it joyfully from him in return. His body clenched again, so tightly his muscles hummed from the strain, then it all spilled from him in an instant. Enervated, he could only make tiny pleased noises as Jim thrust one last time, whispering Blair's name.

With a final effort, Jim rolled them until Blair was on top, holding him there, loosely. Drifting pleasantly, he listened to the speeding heartbeat under his ear, comparing it to his own. It was that as much as the restless rocking of Jim's hips that told him the bigger man wasn't satisfied.

Mystified, he levered himself up enough to look; yes there was a damp spot - make that a *large* damp spot on the front of Jim's pants. Yet Jim was caressing him hungrily, exploring his body thoroughly even through his clothes. He hitched himself forward to look into the other man's face. With a tender touch he traced Jim's closed eyelids, causing them to slowly slide open.

Gasping at the need he saw there, he turned his head away, dodging Jim's attempt to demand a kiss. "Wait, babe. Wait. Let me catch my breath." Jim's answer was an indistinct murmur, and another try for a kiss. Bemused, Blair ordered softly, "Come on, babe. Turn the dial down a little, here. Give me a chance to catch up."

With a shuddering moan, Jim slipped his hands to the front of Blair's shirt, and gripped it tightly. There was a pause, then he said roughly, "Maybe you'd like to clean up? And move someplace more comfortable?"

Astonished at the difference in Jim's words and his body language, Blair started to protest, then realized the tell-tale muscle was jumping. "Yeah, okay." Reluctantly he stood, giving a helping hand to Jim after he did. The older man refused to meet his eyes, but his touch lingered until Blair moved too far away.

In the shower, Blair's mind spun dizzily around how fast they had come together, and how deeply. Erect again before he finished rinsing, he was eager and smiling when he stepped out. Waiting for him with a large warm towel, Jim tucked it around him, hugging him briefly as he did.

"I'll meet you in the living room," Jim promised. He shed the towel he had draped around himself, and stepped into the shower stall.

For a second, Blair stared after him, then shrugged. Too many extreme emotions too quickly; he'd make a list of reactions and get to them when he had had rest. Stretching out on the couch, he was studied the flames in the fire, and was half asleep when Jim came out. He opened his arms in invitation, but Jim sat on the arm of the couch and began to stroke his hair. It was wonderful and Blair vaguely wished he had a way to let Jim know exactly how wonderful it was.

Remembering he did have a way, he reached up and took a handful of the robe Jim was wearing. "I think you can turn that dial back up now, love."

"It's only got two settings, Chief," Jim told him, strain showing in his voice.

Sitting up to be able to see the other man, Blair gaped at him. "Two? As in on and off?" Uneasily, Jim shifted on his seat, but nodded in answer. Going back to the flames, Blair considered, then offered, "I guess that was why you were so, um,"

"Fast?" Jim put in dryly.

"*I* was going to say responsive." Despite himself Blair grinned evilly at his lover. More seriously, he asked, "You must have to keep the switch at 'off' most of the time because of your senses, right?"

"Yeah, but I've always been quick, the first time." Jim confessed, taking his turn at watching the fire. "Usually, I use my mouth and hands until I'm ready again, which doesn't take long. Second time around I can make it last."

"Jim, why aren't you surrounded six deep in horny women?"

Unwillingly, Jim snorted in laughter. After a second he replied seriously, "I don't do casual sex. And most women can't put up with the distant, stoic person I am on a day to day basis."

"Well," Blair said thoughtfully, "For us, at the precinct, that would work in our favor."

The look Jim gave him was inscrutable. "Does that mean we're in the closet, Chief?"

Startled, Blair went back to staring, though he didn't see the fireplace this time. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

"You haven't had time." Jim scooted down the arm to sit beside his partner, taking one of Blair's hands in both of his. "I shouldn't have touched your lips, but I didn't know I would react - *could* react - to you so explosively. We've moved way too fast, here. I've had time to think about this and you haven't."

"Think about it?" His voice was sharp.

Gently, Jim went on. "Are we in or out? Who do we tell, if in? Simon? As our captain, does he need to know? How will this affect our careers if we come out? Can one of us stay in and the other out? Can we have mad, wild sex, then work side by side as if nothing happened?

"And how about the sex? How far do we go there? Intercourse? What if that doesn't work for us? Or if one of us hates it and the other loves it? How long can we be satisfied with fingers and tongues? How long before we *need* penetration? Do we turn to women for that?

"Which brings up commitment. Are you really ready to give up women for life, Blair? Or do you just want to cruise with this, dating other people until we know what we want in the bedroom and out of it. Maybe we..."

"Whoa, whoa!" Blair popped off the couch and began to pace, aware that Jim was paying close attention of every sensory nuance he was creating. "I'm getting the impression you want to act if as nothing has happened here."

Patiently, Jim told him, "We've been living and working together, feeling the way we do, and it's been working for us. Why change it? Especially for something we don't know if we can live with?"

Coming to stand in front of the bigger man, Blair asked, "And we should give up the chance of making what we have better? Give up the incredible *union* we just shared because we might not be able to go farther than mutual humping? Jim, that's cowardly. I can't believe you'd even suggest it."

A flush began to steal up Jim's neck and into his face, but his voice stayed even. "Not give up; wait for - at least for a while. Until you can get *us* settled in your mind, make decisions about what you need and want. Until *we* can work out how to make those fit with what I need and want." He took Blair's hand again, and said urgently. "Don't jump into this with both feet, letting what happens happen. If having more is what we want, isn't that worth waiting for and letting it grow?"

If sincerity and honesty were a passion that could burn with a touch, Blair's hands would have been on fire. He was helpless before it, feeling his heart swell and ache instead of his penis. Still, he dubiously asked, "And we'll be exclusive while we do this? No matter how long it takes?"

Understandingly, Jim brushed a kiss over the hand he held, and said simply, "I don't mind going without." Trying for casual, he added. "It won't... disappoint... me, if you can't. All I ask is that you let me know if you aren't going to come home, so I won't worry." He mumbled something else, then repeated it when Blair tugged on the grip on his hand. "And wash before you do come home."

It was Blair's turn for color to rise in his face. "That makes sense," he said evenly, emphasis on the last word. He was silent a very long time, turning everything over in his head, seeing Jim's point of view against his will. "We can't simply let things drift, either, babe."

"You have something in mind?"

Blair sank down onto his knees in front of Jim, deep in thought. Eventually he suggested, "We keep one night - Fridays? - just for us. No dates with women, don’t women with us if we have, like say a police banquet, to attend; be together if the jobs call for overtime. Even if all we do is stay in the loft and watch the tube, we're *together,* Ok?"

"Fridays just for us - yeah, I like that." Jim said slowly.

"One more thing.." Blair peeked up at Jim through his lashes and the open look on the man's face let him say, almost impudently, "Kisses." Jim sat back a little, and Blair rushed on, "Goodbye kisses, hello kisses, good night, good morning, congratulations. When we're private, of course."

Sounding choked, Jim agreed hastily, "We can do that, no problem."

"Good." Blair went up on his knees, and put three fingers on Jim's lips. They quivered under his touch, and he thought, as he replaced his mouth with them, //There may be more settings on that dial than you think, love.//

Nothing To Hold Him To Me

"Is that the last of it, mate?"

Blair balanced carefully on the pontoon of the plane and double-checked the small boat they were loading from. "That's it." He waved at the native at the oars of the boat, and told him in his own tongue, *Tell Headman my debt to him is enormous. I will always answer if he sends for me.*

*I will. I hope you find your family well,* the boatman replied and shoved off.

Scrambling into the plane, Blair nodded at the pilot's thumbs up, and belted himself in. Over the noise of the props, McGruder yelled, "Like a man who knows how to travel light. Some you brainy types I've ferried can't get it through their knobs that more money isn't going to make their equipment light enough for this bird to lift."

Throat tight from the rush of fear as the plane started to lift from the water, Blair could only nod again.

Apparently that was all the encouragement McGruder needed, he went on half-yelling in the way of a man accustomed to carrying on barely heard conversations. "Then they want me to ditch the mail or the supplies I'm carrying for the other islands. Tell me what they're doing is more important..."

Blair tuned him out, staring out at the horizon and not seeing it, too filled with anxiety to much care about the words of the grizzled, long haired pilot. For once, it wasn't being on the plane that had him tied it knots; it was *why* he was there.

The mail call that came with McGruder's arrival had come up empty for him again. No letter, no birthday package, not even a card. Jim would never forget his birthday, and he could not believe his lover would not write once in the six weeks he had been on this expedition. Especially after promising specifically he would. Something had to be wrong, seriously wrong, at home, and he wasn't going to wait six more weeks to find out what.

It had taken some fast talking, and the help of the island's headman, but he had convinced the leader of the expedition that he needed to leave *now*! Fortunately, both Headman and Morrison liked each other, and Blair's presence as an interpreter and liaison wasn't needed any longer. The two men had arranged for the pilot to spend the night instead of taking off right away, while Blair had packed and made last minute arrangements to delegate his other duties for the expedition.

Taking the first step in the long series that would get him back to Cascade wasn't relieving the tension he felt. If anything, it was growing. Impatient with himself, knowing fretting wasn't going to make the time pass faster, he made himself tune back in on McGruder, just as the pilot finished a story.

"So I told him, if it was going to be used for studying fishes, it was where it belonged!"

Blair smiled obligingly, while the pilot laughed uproariously, making the tiny craft dip and bob as he did. The motion of the plane made the sunlight peeking through the low level clouds weave and bob, too, and a stray shaft of light hit the tie holding back the old pilot's long hair. Its Celtic design caught Blair's eye, and he studied it, trying to remember where he had seen the design before.

Suddenly his hand snaked out, tweaked the tie out of McGruder's hair, and brought it closer. It wasn't a Celtic design. It was the letters J. E. and B. S., woven together to look like one.

"Hey, mate, what do you think you're doing?"

Fixing the pilot with a look hard enough to hit like a rock, Blair demanded, "Where did you get this?"

"Me sainted Mother left it to me," the pilot shot back quickly, too quickly. "It's the only thing I have left of her."

"Bull."

"Now see here..."

"What does the engraving on the back say?"

That brought the other man up short, and he stumbled a bit, before retorting. "There's none. It's a trick to make me tell you it's not mine."

Without looking, Blair turned the ornament so that the back of it could be seen. Though it was too small to be read from a distance, there was clearly something written there. He turned it back, and read, "Three fingers, Chief."

He returned his gaze to the other man, though he was trying to act nonchalant. "It's not yours, McGruder. It's a birthday present to me, isn't it? That you took from my mail. Where's the rest of it? Where's the rest of my mail?"

Blustering and fuming, the pilot denied everything. Blair ignored all of it, repeating patiently every so often, "Where's the rest of it?"

Finally McCruder burst out, "I bloody *burned* it, ok? You happy now? I burned it! The brother said to get rid of it anyway I wanted, as long as nothing got to you or came from you." Realizing he had probably said more than he intended, McGruder closed his mouth with a snap, and pretended to be intently interested in the dials of the plane.

"The brother? Steven Ellison, right?" When the pilot didn't reply, Blair warned him, "I can keep asking that question, too."

In other circumstances, Blair would have laughed at the horrified look on McGruder's face. He didn't say anything, though, and after a moment the old man said sullenly, "Told me you and his older brother were buggering each other, that the man was taken with your pretty face. Thought that if the two of you were incommunicado for a while, his brother would come back to his senses. Go back to his wife and family.

Seriously, and sternly, like a priest lecturing a lost sheep, McGruder added, "Ain't none of my business what you and your boyfriend do to each other. A little ass now and then is a nice change, it is. But it ain't right to take a man away from his family duties."

Shaking his head, Blair asked with a hint of humor, "You didn't read any of the letters, did you?"

This time McGruder was mortally offended, "READ them! What kind of man do you think I am? Some honest thievery, a bribe here and there - that's one thing. But to read someone's *personal* mail, that's adding insult to injury." The pilot managed to actually flounce in his seat, and pouted.

"Jim had been divorced for years when I met him, he has no kids, and Steven's been trying to screw me himself," Blair told the pilot bluntly. "For once I wish you had over looked your 'principles' and read damn letters, so you'd know that already." Ignoring McGruder's outrage, Blair turned his shoulder to the man, and went back to staring out the window, remembering his overheard conversation between Jim and his brother.

*** .... "Jim, if you don't tell him, he'll leave."

"Of course. You can leave a friend behind, though, for a new job or an important, exciting expedition and come back to pick up right where you left off. Lovers can't do that. What is there to hold him to me...."***

//Jim has got to be thinking I'm having doubts about our relationship. That now that I've gotten back to being an anthropologist and that life, I don't want to be with him anymore. That I don't even miss him.// Blair closed his eyes. //Damn, why did I get that offer for this trip so soon after we started our Fridays? He'd be more sure of me if we'd gotten further than some serious kissing and heavy petting.//

He couldn't help but smile. There was a lot to be said for necking, though. Kissing Jim was more emphatic than having sex with most people. In fact, if kissing were a competition sport, Jim would be beyond world-class. They would have to make up a category for his expertise - Sentinel class. The man's mouth had to be so sensitive he could read Braille with his lips! Thoughts of some very, very nice uses for that mouth made Blair squirm a bit in his seat, and smile wider.

They had both fallen easily, naturally, into the habit of exchanging those mind-altering kisses whenever one or both of them went through the door of the loft. And it had taken only one Friday for both of them to become completely addicted to their special night. That first Friday, Jim had met him at the door with a glass of wine, and had given him an eager, open mouth kiss. They had necked and petted through the meal, and the rest of the evening, falling asleep on the couch during a late, late night rerun of Hill Street Blues. The rest they had shared had been different in context, but not content.

There had just been too few of them before the offer had come in from Columbia. A pharmaceutical company was backing a botanical survey of an island chain in Indonesia whose culture Blair had studied for his masters. Not only did he speak the language but the leader of the dominant tribe still spoke of him as a friend. It didn't hurt that Blair had a passing knowledge of the plants the natives used in their medicines. The money the corporation was offering for Blair to shepherd their expedition until it had established itself with the natives was considerable.

For that reason, and the fact it would be an impressive addition to his credentials, Jim had urged persuasively for Blair to go. They'd argued about it most of a night, until Jim had come to stand behind him and started finger combing his hair. After assuring his partner that he would be all right without backup for a few weeks, and that he would take vacation time to spend the last two weeks in the islands with him, Jim had talked Blair into it.

Angry, now, Blair bumped the glass next to him with his head. He should have at least insisted on being taken to bed for their good-byes. Jim had resisted his hints about this, with a suggestion of what he now recognized as resignation. Damn him, he was expecting Blair to simply drift out of his life and wouldn't see the lost letters as anything but a symptom of that.

He stayed silent and angry, considering his options until the plane landed at the tiny airfield that was the next step in his trip. Wordlessly he unloaded his gear, then deliberately caught McGruder's eye as he picked up his pack. "Old man, if I've lost him because of this, I will make it a point to find out what you hold most dear and see to it you lose it. Do I make myself clear?"

Disdainfully, he didn't wait for a reaction; he turned and left. Behind him McGruder fumbled in his pockets until he found a rubber band and pulled back his hair. "Best he didn't know I'd already radioed the brother he was coming," the pilot muttered. "Wouldn't make the rest of the trip any easier." He looked after the hurrying young man, trying to forget the unaccustomed twinge of conscience he felt.

Three days later, Blair stood in the empty loft, thinking McGruder was going to have some serious karma to deal with someday. He was too tired and depressed to be more creative in his anger than that. He put down his things and went to the small stack of his belongings piled in the center of the living room. On top of it was a notice of eviction, signed by one James Ellison.

Blair didn't have to study the signature to know it wasn't Jim's. No doubt, if he bothered to check, he'd find the whole thing was bogus. If he had come home without knowing about McGruder's thievery, though, he would have taken it at face value. He would have assumed that the long silence and empty apartment were real and Jim wanted him out of his life. As it was, he guessed Steven had persuaded his brother to go somewhere with him, and had had the apartment emptied while they were gone.

The question was, where? Dispiritedly, Blair poked through his things. The phones were gone, but he had left his cell behind and the power was still on. He'd catch a nap while the cell battery charged, then make some calls. After going through several boxes - and thinking, Steven screwed up, all the kitchen stuff wasn’t here and most of it belonged to him, not his partner - Blair found the phone.

He started to look for the adapter to plug it in, when he noticed the readout was showing a full charge. A smile began to creep across his lips; now why would Jim keep Blair's cell charged unless he was keeping things ready for his lover's return? Feeling a little less tired, Blair flipped it open and dialed the number of the department's best hacker.

Blair brushed by Steven, and demanded, "Where's Jim?" He looked around the foyer of the small summer house owned by Steven's company, and called his partner's name.

"Blair! It's good to see you."

"Cut the crap, Steven. Jim!" Blair went down the hallway and checked the kitchen.

"He's not here right now, but If we'd known you were coming, we'd have met you at the airport," Steven lied, placatingly. "Why didn't you let us know your plans?"

"Bullshit. His truck is the garage, and those are his keys there on table. And you had McGruder to tell you my plans." Blair poked his head into the dining room and living room, calling, "Jim, man, I need to talk to you,"

Taking a different tack, the other man planted himself in front of the stairs as Blair headed for them. "He doesn't want to talk to you, Sandburg. It's over between you and he's trying to let you go without too much grief on either side."

He shoved a finger into Steven's chest. "If Jim wants me to go, he has to tell me himself. Otherwise, I'm going to believe you're just shoveling more shit. Now, move or get moved."

"This is my home, this time, Sandburg! Get out or I'll call the cops."

"Please do. Did you know that interfering with the mail is a federal offense? And that falsfying city documents, such as eviction notices, offends not a few people, too?" Blair put his face in Steven's. "MOVE!"

He made a grab at Blair, who simply ducked, then dodged, and ran up the stairs, calling Jim's name. He found his partner on the bed in the first bedroom, lying on his side, naked, facing away from the door. "Jim, man, why didn't you answer me? Is this dickhead telling the truth?" Hesitantly, thinking maybe Steven *had* convinced Jim not to see him again, Blair approached the bed and touched his partner's arm.

When there was no reaction, he bent over to look into Jim's face. The older man's eyes were wide open, pupils completely dilated, and his face was blank. Blair launched himself back across the bedroom, pinning Steven to the door with a knee in his groin and a choking arm across his throat. "What did you give him?!"

Making a coughing noise that sounded like a denial, Steven shook his head. Blair leaned harder on his throat, and shouted, "Damn it, Jim has drug allergies! He can't even use cold medicine, for God's sake. What did you give him! How much! How long ago! Tell me, damn you, tell me!"

He let up on the choke hold enough for Steven to pull in a deep breath, then made as if to start pressing again. "LSD. Couple of tabs in the O.J. at breakfast," Steven gasped hurriedly.

Brain switching into high gear, Blair simply walked away from the other man, totally dismissing him from mind. "Psychotropic," he muttered under his breath. "Hardly any physical reaction at all, except in response to the hallucinations. Been in his system about two hours, another six or eight to get it out, if it's the usual street stuff." A thought hit him and he ran a hand through his hair, "Man, *Jim's* hallucinations are probably real enough for someone *else* to touch."

Kicking off his shoes, he thought, //Reality is still there, for him, under the effects of the drug. If I wait long enough, he'll connect with me, though he might not think I'm real. No problem; I can hang in there until he comes down.// He climbed onto the bed, and over his partner, sitting on his heels next to his lover. Putting one hand on Jim's shoulder, he put the first three fingers of the other on Jim's lips, and waited.

Much faster than he expected, Jim focused on his face and smiled happily. "Hi," Blair said, as soon as Jim kissed his fingertips.

"Blair." Jim's grin grew, and he repeated himself softly, "Blair, Blair, Blair." He licked his lips and his eyes drifted shut. "Your name tastes like lemonade - tart and sweet. Blair, Blair, Blair."

In spite of himself, Blair laughed. "Man, you are *sooooo* stoned!"

"Would you believe, I noticed?" Jim laughed back.

Getting serious, Blair brushed his fingers over the other man's closed eyes, so that he would open them. "You've been dosed with LSD, love. I need to know how you're reacting to it."

Oddly, Jim lapsed into Quecha. **Reminds me of some medicine Incacha gave me, when my senses first flared, in Peru. He sat with me while I was awake and dreaming, and kept me grounded. Told me it would help me grasp my power. Gave it to me again, as I was leaving, to make the journey less painful, he said.**

Clumsily, Blair answered in the same language. **I'm here. I'll connect you to the earth. Talk to me. What do you see? hear? feel?**

Laughing again, Jim ran a loving hand down Blair's chest. "I know you're here, Chief, my Shaman, my Guide, my other," he said in English. "I see you, shimmering with light and color. I hear your voice; it tastes like homemade bread with honey on it. You feel like music, beautiful, beautiful music. What will your kiss feel like?" Jim put a hand behind Blair's head and pulled him down, lightly touching lips to lips. "Windchimes," Jim whispered, letting the motion of the words tease Blair's lips, "Glass windchimes in a thousand shades of blue." He slipped his tongue into his lover’s mouth, moaning, and used it to caress its twin waiting there.

Leaning over his sentinel, Blair returned each caress with one of his own, sighing deep in his chest at the welcoming passion in the dance. He stretched out, pressing close to Jim, not surprised to find him aroused and ready. They both groaned as Jim's erection nuzzled into Blair’s belly, and Jim tucked a thigh into Blair's groin to encourage his. He rubbed, gently, and Blair broke their kiss to cry out. Undeterred, Jim licked at his chin, bit it, then nibbled his way down and back to Blair's ear. Blair cried out again at the shudder of pleasure, and half opened his eyes when he heard an answering cry that wasn't from Jim.

He peered at Steven over Jim's shoulder, not aware of how hot his gaze was under his heavy lids. Blair pushed himself more firmly into Jim's arms, feeling his erection jerk in response, and held the back of Jim's head to the spot he was sucking, all while staring defiantly at the other man in the room. "If you're going to watch, Steven," he said, coldly, "at least get us some lube before you jerk off."

Snatching his hand away from his crotch and turning bright red, Steven ran from the room, slamming the door behind him.

The couple on the bed didn't notice; Jim had decided Blair's shirt was covering too much lovely skin, and was ripping it off. Distracted from their fleeing spectator, Blair went to work on his jeans, and was soon lying naked on top of Jim. He started to move, but Jim gripped Blair's upper arms and lifted him away. "Wait," he managed, "wait. I'm close."

Blair tweaked one of Jim's nipples, carefully. "Nobody said we had to cross the finish line together, love. I'll catch up on the second round."

Staring up at him, obviously about to look for further assurances, Jim arched his back as Blair skimmed a knee over his hard-on and coaxed, "Do it. Come for me."

"Blair," Jim whispered, and did as he was told. Looking between them, Blair watched the first stream arc up Jim's belly, the second go the length of his chest, and the rest pool around his navel. Licking his lips, he moved his hips to let his cock drag through that pool, then slide back down again. Murmuring, "oh, god, oh, god," over and over again, he undulated up a little further, following the slick fluid, then worked his way down, up, then back, until he was practically sitting on Jim's chest, his cock teasing the nipples there.

"Babe."

"mmmm?"

"Fuck my mouth."

Yanking his gaze up, Blair saw that Jim was staring hungrily at his leaking head. Without a word, Blair lifted himself until he could stroke Jim's lips with it. Jim's hands came round to fit under his bottom, and he opened for his lover.

As wonderful as the tight, wet suction was, it was the sight of himself in moving slowly in and out of Jim's mouth that Blair couldn't handle. "Oh. My. God." was all the warning he could give, and then he unraveled himself into Jim's throat.

Clumsily, Jim drank it all, then released Blair carefully. Blair leaned on his forearms on the headboard, trying to remember how to breathe without whimpering. Jim didn't give him much of a chance; he pulled Blair's hips closer and began to lick and suck on his balls and inner thighs. Dazedly, Blair thought for the millionth time //he has got to have the most sensitive, skilled tongue on the planet// and moved so that Jim could reach the delicate skin behind his balls.

He took his time with his taste journey, and when he made the first broad sweep over the opening to Blair's body, Blair shouted in pleasure and began to grow hard again. No one had ever pleasured him in that way, before, and he was astounded to discover he loved it. Jim alternated flat, hard strokes with darting stabs, leaving Blair shaking, clutching the headboard to keep from falling. Just as he thought he was going to faint from it, Jim replaced his tongue with a finger.

Shouting wordlessly, again, he drove himself down on the invader, then forward, blindly seeking to fill the hot cavern waiting for him. Their position was too awkward for satisfaction, and Blair instinctively shifted, trying to correct it. As he did, he felt the play of the muscles in Jim's upper arm and looked over his shoulder to see he was working his cock with a determined fist.

Biting a corner of his lips, Blair watched for a few seconds, still rising and falling with the action of the finger inside him. It felt so good! And it was identical to the motion he was watching. If this was good...

With more control than he knew he possessed, Blair stopped his movements, then cautiously disengaged from Jim's caresses. The hoarse cry of disappointment hurried him, and he scooted down the length of Jim's body, positioning himself to take Jim inside.

Before he could, Jim sat up, wrapped both arms around him, and turned them both so that they were side by side. "No." he gritted out, between locked teeth. "Not here. Our home, our bed, on our Friday."

Dizzy from need and the sudden change in position, Blair laid his head on Jim's chest. He was tired of waiting! Jim was his and they were not going to leave this bedroom until that had been etched by passion into every cell in their bodies. Reading Blair's challenge from touch, Jim knotted his hands into his lover’s curls, and pulled him back to look into his face. Covering that dear face with tiny licks and kisses, Jim argued, "I don't want to wait, either. But I do want to be able to remember every detail without drugs coloring it. As fascinating as it is that your body feels like the sound of an oboe when you come, that's not what I want to be thinking about when I enter you."

"What do you want to be thinking about?" Blair asked petulantly, trying to shake his head free.

"How much I feel for you, and how good it felt when you took me."

That stopped Blair cold, and he gulped, "OH!" Jim took his mouth, ravishing it with fluttering thrusts. When Blair was rocking against him, he opened his thighs, so that Blair was stroking into the crease between his legs. He raised his hips to help, but Blair turned to bite his neck, and muttered, "Damn, I hate it when you're right. No, not here. Our loft, our bed, on our Friday."

This time it was a frustrated Jim who resisted, recklessly locking his legs around Blair's waist and grinding his cock against him. It worked better than he wanted; Blair came, his entire body shivering with each spurt, moaning quietly into Jim's neck. The slick friction between them sent Jim over the edge, as well. He cried out Blair's name, and spun away into ecstasy.

Epilogue

"Why, Steven?"

The younger Ellison looked up from his lounge chair, took another drink of champagne from the bottle, and shrugged.

Sitting on the chair next to him, Jim looked over at Blair, who was standing by the French doors, then into the pool. "If I walk out of here without an explanation, you had better never walk back into my life again."

"I should think," Steven said with the exaggerated care of someone very, very drunk and needing not to show it, "that would be the case regardless."

"Blame the chance on Blair. *My* first inclination was to break your jaw."

At the mention of Blair's name, the younger brother looked over at him, and mumbled under his breath. "It's not fair."

Patiently - more patiently than he expected of himself - Jim said, "What's not fair?"

Steven lurched to his feet, and waved the champagne bottle at the world in general. "That you have *him!* I'm the one who won; I should have the prize." He wove his way over to Jim, and shook a finger in his face. "I saw you at the race track, and I thought, I really did win, I really did. You left, and the old man gave me the expensive car when I graduated high school, sent me to Harvard.

"You got a scholarship to some rinky-dink school or another, graduated magna cum laude as if that meant nothing at some no-name school, went into the army. The army; home of the losers! I knew I had won then, but it didn't feel like it. I don't know why; what did you have that I could want?

"So I put you out of my mind and got on with if. I was recruited by the best headhunter in the business, got on the fast track to a vice presidency, made 6 figures a year. Everyone I work with envies me, my boss is worried I'm going to take his place, and important people know me. Then we meet again and you're just a fucking cop! I won, I really, really won.

"I figure, I can afford to be generous, to be family with you. But you know what I found? You're not just a cop, you're the god-damned cop of the year! Your boss treats you like family, your co-workers would take a bullet for you - most of mine want to put one in me - and the god damned mayor would drop in horse shit if you yelled drop, because he respects you! Worst of all, you've got that perfect, beautiful angel on your arm. You can't even appreciate him properly.

Steven turned away, tilting dangerously in the process, and stumbled back to his chair, to stare into the growing twilight. "I should have the prize," he said sulkily. "And if I can't, you sure as hell weren't going to."

Jim had sat quietly, linked hands at his knees, all during Steven's diatribe, his face showing even less than usual. With a quick glance at Blair's angry form, he stood, and put a pitying hand on Steven's shoulder. "How long are you going to let the old man rule your life? Measuring yourself by his standards, defining yourself by his rules? Don't you have any balls of your own?" His grip grew painful, "You're letting that bastard tell you that love is a prize to be won or earned. It's not; it's a gift freely given, and the best you can do is be worthy of it so that you can keep it.

"To give you some idea of its strength - with all you did to interfere, the worst you could have done is hurt us. Hell, you did hurt us. More importantly, you hurt Blair. I don't know if I can ever get past that. If you can ever think of a reason why I *should* even try, call us."

Walking away without looking back, Jim took Blair's hand and went with him to the truck. Once out of the garage and on the way, they drove back toward Cascade, each silent and lost in their thoughts. Finally, Blair captured the fingers Jim was restlessly twisting in the hem of Blair's jacket, and brought the first three to his lips. Startled, Jim shot him a look, and smiled, bringing the kissed fingers to his own lips to taste Blair on them.

"It nearly did work, Jim." Blair apologized, needing Jim to know his doubts. "I was so sure something was wrong. If I hadn't found my birthday present, I would have believed it all."

"Maybe, but I know something that would have convinced you to listen to me when I found you again. And I *would* have found you, babe."

At Blair's raised eyebrow, Jim said, "Look in the glove compartment." Blair took the key from Jim and checked the space. He opened the envelope he found there, looked over the contents, then undid his seat beat and plastered himself to Jim's side. "Oh, gods above, James Ellison. I love you." He clutched the tickets and money for Jim's trip to Indonesia, dated for the next day, to his chest like a talisman.

One arm holding him close, Jim kissed the top of Blair's head and whispered, "I love you, too."