Blair woke, as he had far too many times lately, chilled to the bone and curled into a tight ball in the bare warmth left where Jim had been. Despite the blankets Jim usually pulled over him to make up for his absence, Blair always got cold when he slept alone. Or, at least, he did since he got used to sleeping next to the natural space heater that was his mate.
Tonight he couldn't help but wonder if the lack of warmth was more than physical.
Of all the evenings when he and Jim should be wrapped around each other, so close that the same breath nourished both of them, Blair was alone in the bed, vaguely dissatisfied even though they had made love before falling asleep. But it had felt… mechanical. Like something they should do, just because it was their anniversary and that was part of celebrating the milestone of another year together. Like Jim's absence during the night, that lack of feeling when they came together was becoming commonplace.
Shivering and reaching for a robe for another layer, Blair tried, not for the first time, to find the words to frame what was wrong between them. Jim wasn't cold or aloof or unapproachable. In fact, he was more attentive to him than usual, as if to make up for the mornings he woke up alone. He touched Blair more often; the intimate, casual touches that only lovers shared, meant only to emphasize that they were privileged with that intimacy. Nor was he reluctant to have sex with him. On the surface their love-life was as good as ever.
Jim was even willing to talk to Blair about the odd insomnia he was suffering from, though he couldn't really explain it beyond an inability to shut down his mind. Apparently his thoughts raced maniacally from topic to topic, not staying on any one long enough to be able to say *that* subject was the one keeping him up. Blair could sympathize with him on that. On the rare occasions he couldn't sleep, that was usually what was going on with him.
Yet. Yet… Beneath the surface of their daily lives, of their daily interaction, was a lack, an emptiness, a *something* that made Blair feel as Jim were going through the motions of living with him. Even his confession about the insomnia felt superficial, as if Jim knew he'd have to cough up something and found a reasonable problem that Blair would accept. The aggravating thing was that Blair had had to do just that. With no other symptoms of a problem for him to point a finger at, he was forced to take Jim's explanation at face value.
Admitting to himself that trying to go back to sleep was pointless when his troubles were looming so large in his mind, he shuffled into slippers and wrapped a blanket around himself before meandering through the large, one room cabin, with its few but sumptuous furnishings. He loved this place, and had been more than willing to cut back on a few luxuries to buy it when he and Jim had discovered it during a camping trip. It had become their home away from home, as precious as the loft in Cascade, and he had dragged Jim here for their anniversary instead of staying there in hopes that the site of so many wonderful memories would renew the closeness between them.
Maybe that was the problem, Blair mused; plain old everyday familiarity. They had each other's quirks and moods down to a science, could finish each other's sentences - or not, because it wasn't necessary to use words to communicate. A cop's life had its mundane, routine days and weeks, but they never lasted long, so he had believed that Jim cherished the elements of predictability in their relationship.
That, however, could also be translated as 'boring,' and he was forced to face the possibility that was where Jim was now. Bored with him, but too bound by love and obligation to complain. Maybe that's why the extra affection; it was his attempt to rejuvenate his lagging attraction for Blair.
A painful thought hit him, and Blair froze by the big picture window that looked out onto the lake that ran along the east edge of their property, not seeing its moon-silvered beauty. Being overly attentive was also a sign of an unfaithful spouse, one going too far to hide indifference because of his romantic interest in someone else. Exactly the sort of thing Jim's guilty conscience would drive him to if he were straying.
"No way," he said out loud. "Not my Jim. Absolutely no way in hell."
The simple fact that the idea had even occurred to him jarred Blair into action. Hugging his blanket close, he went outside, sparing a moment to appreciate the unusually clear night. Following a well-tended path meant to be trod by sentinel sensitive bare feet, he made his way to the dock he and Jim had built, not sure Jim would be there but not knowing where else to look. A few feet from it, Blair caught a flicker of motion from the corner of his eye, and half-turned in time to see Jim finish the climb up the small rock face that jutted out into the lake north of the dock.
Jim straightened, balancing effortlessly at the very edge of the drop to the water, body language making it clear he intended to dive from his perch. As he stood poised for the plunge, the moonlight caressed his already wet form, lovingly outlining the taut muscles and hard planes that made it up. Breath catching in his throat at the beauty of the man, almost as if he were seeing him for the first time, Blair let his gaze roam over Jim, memory supplying him with the satin feel of his skin and carefully wrought strength under it.
From here he couldn't see any of the changes time had brought to Jim, small as they were. He had a few more lines, Blair knew, but some of them were laugh lines, and if Jim had a little less hair, his eyes sparkled more with enjoyment of life. In his opinion, that made Jim even more gorgeous, and an unexpected curl of longing twisted through his middle as Jim gracefully arced through the air to the water, cutting it with barely a ripple. Not expecting him to surface immediately, Blair slowly walked out onto the dock and sank down into lotus at the end of it to wait for Jim to come up for air.
Aching pleasantly with growing desire, he schooled himself to patience, and suddenly asked himself was the last time he had been stirred by the mere sight of his partner. Was that what was wrong between them? Was he taking Jim for granted, assuming that he didn’t need to do anything special or different to keep their passion going strong? On the heels of that question was a worse one; was he taking him for granted outside of the bedroom, as well?
It didn't seem possible, Blair argued with himself. They had had a few rough years together among all the good to great ones - okay, none as bad as the Year from Hell. Bad times were inevitable with assorted psychos, terrorists, overly ambitious criminals, and idiots with too much money and too much time on their hands, all doing their best to kill them because of the job. To make matters worse, when people weren't making their lives miserable, Mother Nature had her ways of trying to take them down.
Fussing with the blanket to seal the drafts making him uncomfortable, Blair did his best not to dwell on the three days he had sat beside a hospital bed as Jim fought a dangerously high fever. The cause had been a sliver of contaminated material embedded in his scalp where neither Blair nor the doctors could see it, and Jim couldn't feel it for the pain of other injuries. In the end, Blair had trusted his understanding of sentinel abilities to translate Jim's delirious ramblings into useful information, allowing them to discover the tiny wound.
Shivering, and this time absolutely not from the cold, he shook his head at himself. He couldn't take Jim for granted any more than he could take his own life for granted; the danger of losing both was always clear and present. It didn't seem likely he was taking Jim for granted in the bedroom, either. Maybe he didn't notice his own responses as much because of the dear familiarity of them, but they were there. The only evidence of that he needed was in how often and how eagerly he turned to Jim.
Jim just didn't seem as eager It could be the inevitable effects of aging, Blair thought resignedly. Men slowed down as they got older. Maybe Jim was forcing himself to respond to Blair's needs in an effort to keep him satisfied when his own were no longer as strong. True, it had only seemed to get better between them as the years passed, and Jim didn't seem to be losing ground on other fronts. It took more effort and care to keep apace with younger detectives, and he bounced back from injuries more slowly, but Jim was as good in the field as ever. Even his senses were as keen, occasionally showing new depths when Blair least expected it.
Still, if that were the case, Blair could definitely work with it, probably without even having to have a 'talk' with Jim, which would be a nightmare of reassuring him about his masculinity and virility while convincing him it was okay to not want sex as much. A little extra heavy-duty cuddling with a clear expectation of nothing more, and after a while Jim might relax enough to really enjoy love-making again. Blair wasn't going to lie to himself and say that he wasn't going to miss the frequency and intensity, but he loved a good cuddle every bit as much as Jim did. With the pressure gone, it would probably be incredible for both of them when they did go for more.
Blair tried to imagine that, wiggling a little uncomfortably as his dick reported that it thought 'more' was a fine idea right here, right now, and he could always start his slow down plan later. Much later.
Without warning Jim knifed up out of the water as smoothly as he had entered it, planting his hands flat on the end of the dock so that he was braced half in, half out of the lake. His startled gaze flew to Blair's, catching and hold it instantly, and every bit of doubt and insecurity Blair had struggled with fled, gone as if they'd never tried to take root in his mind. There in Jim's eyes, was everything he needed to know - love stronger than one lifetime could express, need that went beyond the body, devotion that had once crossed all boundaries to make its claim.
They froze, unable to do more than stare into each other, then Blair reached out to cup Jim's chin on the points of his fingers. Lips already open, he leaned forward as Jim stretched toward him, both suspended in a timeless moment of exquisite anticipation…..
***
Taking care not to wake Blair, Jim climbed out of bed, feeling very much as if the tendrils of warmth from his lover were clinging to him in protest, vainly trying to keep him where he belonged. Almost, *almost,* he relented, going so far as to perch uncertainly on the edge of the bed. Guilt made him finish what he started, and once he was on his feet, he tucked the blankets around Blair to keep him warm. It would help, though he would wake up before the night was over, regardless of how comfortable Jim made him. His absence would soak into Blair's sleeping mind, and he'd begin mumbling restlessly, coiling in on himself until he was too tense to stay under.
But it would take a while, and he would get rest that he would otherwise be cheated of if Jim gave into temptation and stayed beside him. If he did that, he wouldn't be able to resist loving him awake, sooner rather than later. Not that Blair usually minded that, of course. He'd cooperate with drowsy willingness, sturdy body open and pliant under Jim's touch, unselfishly sharing himself until he was sure Jim was completely sated.
Hunger uncoiled in his middle at the image, and Jim made himself stop staring down at Blair and leave the bedside, holding in a frustrated growl at himself. Sentinel silent, he pulled on a pair of old cut-offs and toed into flip-flops before padding for the front door, glad of the cool autumn air on his near-nakedness. Once outside, he patrolled the boundaries of their property, not because he thought he would find intruders in this isolated area, but because it was something to do.
Most of him was back in the cabin with Blair, all senses tuned to the soft murmur of life, reassuring him as much as they called him back to take what was his, one more time, at least. Which was the reason Jim had insomnia in the first place, if falling peacefully asleep, then waking up and unable to nod back off until he had sex could be called insomnia. Blair had tutored him enough in his own psyche that he understood why he was having the problem, but solving it was beyond him. Nor could he turn to Blair to help, since he was inadvertently the cause of it in the first place.
When Blair had pushed him about his new nocturnal habit of roaming far and wide, no purpose or direction in mind, Jim had given him enough of the truth that he had had to accept it. Disjointed dreams chased Jim back to awareness, and once his eyes opened, his mind would leap from memory to memory, from thought to thought, helter-skelter, until he would have been willing to swear that he could smell smoke from his over-active brain cells.
Jim came to the edge of the lake and stood with the water lapping at his toes, lost in his own mental ramblings. What he hadn't told Blair was that the *subject* was always the same, if the content varied from one second to the next. It was always about Blair. The memories were those of their life together; the thoughts were of what his mate meant to him, who and what his Blair was. Inevitably, even when he purposefully dwelt on the more unpleasant aspects of their past, passion would steal in. It was simply impossible to spend any time dwelling on their shared lives without encountering the incredible joy and wonder that was being in love with Blair Sandburg.
The whole stupid snarl of recall and desperate hunger had started from the most innocent of things - overhearing a conversation in a restaurant where another diner had recognized Blair as a former student. She had waxed eloquent about Blair's brilliance and academic excellence, happily recalling some of the questions and observations made by a sixteen year old who looked about twelve and sounded sixty. Then, sounding genuinely sad and disappointed, she ended that portion of the conversation by telling her companion that Blair worked with the police department now, in some odd capacity, all those lovely intellectual gifts completely wasted in a place where he couldn't be fully utilized or appreciated.
A bit of driftwood bumped Jim's feet, and he bent to pick it up and throw it out into the lake. It wasn't the first time Jim had heard such sentiments expressed, he admitted to himself; usually in varying tones of amazement, derision, gloating, or confusion. What caught at him this time was the underlying sorrow in the woman's voice and expression; as if a great treasure had been lost. At first, Jim had been annoyed. What Blair did for him and for the department saved people on nearly a daily basis. That was no waste of a career.
Not that Naomi would agree with him, he thought ruefully, scooping up a rock to toss after the driftwood. Though she accepted their relationship, both private and professional, Jim had heard echoes of that same sorrow, carefully hidden under Naomi's normal vivacious tones, when she talked about Blair with an old friend who had been out of touch. He had always chalked it up to a mother's natural response to losing future bragging rights on her son, the scholar, internationally known and respected for his work.
It had dawned on him slowly that they were mourning the loss of a better life for Blair, the one that his talents and mind could have earned for him if he hadn't been drawn into Jim's world. Jim tried to dismiss the notion, yet again, throwing another rock as if to throw the idea away, too. After all a teacher's salary, even on the university level, wasn't that much better than what Blair earned now. Maybe a professor's life was safer, but it was Sandburg, after all, and trouble seemed to find him with ease. From being held hostage on an elevator while on his way to have an artifact appraised, to getting caught in a riot at a concert with a friends only a few months ago, if there was a menace anywhere in Cascade, Blair stood a good chance to be up to his ears in it without trying. As for kids and the kind of spouse most mothers wanted for their sons, Jim knew he fell short in that arena, big time, but believed what he and Blair had made up for it.
Yeah, right, he snorted to himself. He was too good a detective to buy that whole line of bullshit, apparently; or at least, his subconscious was. Not long after that awakening, his dreams featured the Blair that could have been. The man whose incredible gift for communication, written or spoken, made him a great teacher and better writer, would have been more than a simple professor in a Rainier sized school. That Blair would have been welcome at any major university, earned tenure, published repeatedly and in more than just academic journals. There had been at least one non-fiction best seller in that Blair's future, probably more, and possibly a fiction novel or two, as well.
And if Blair was always finding trouble, he always found unique ways out of it, as well, taking the innocent with him, seemingly without trying. During the riot, he'd wound up on stage, convincing members of the maddened crowd to jam with him and a few of the braver band members, distracting people from their violence. There was no way he wouldn't still be saving other people, improving their lives with deceptive ease, no matter what profession he turned to or where he practiced it.
As for family, Jim had always supposed that Blair would have thought long and hard about children before committing himself to Jim. If it were important to him, Blair would have said that up front so they could have made plans. Wouldn't he?
Jim dropped down to his haunches, drawing in the sand. He had never been particularly interested in being a father for a dozen different reasons, not the least of which was that cops made lousy parents, but he would have been willing to discuss it, if Blair had been of the opposite mind. The question there was, did *Blair* know that, or had he assumed Jim wouldn't negotiate on the issue because of the hard-assed comments Jim had made about having kids and not being there for them because of the job.
The part about having a better mate was a no-brainer. Blair deserved much, much better than an emotionally crippled, aging cop with too much baggage. Almost angrily Jim scrubbed away what he had drawn. Out of all the people who would have been overjoyed to have Blair, no matter how short a time, he had chosen him, which never ceased to amaze Jim. That was the one consolation he had had as he realized how badly he had cheated his partner of the future he should have had. Blair *had* deliberately, consciously chosen him, not letting uncontrolled passion take them when a silly, playful kiss had unexpectedly and shockingly turned intense and ravenous on both parts.
Everything else they shared had more or less just happened, with one event cascading into another and major decisions made based on the necessities of the moment. The ability to focus on the goal and stomp, barrel, slam or crash his way past obstacles until he reached it was a serious asset for a cop, but he shouldn't have used it on Blair. He had literally dragged him along with him too much of the time, absolutely sure that Blair working cases with him was for the greater good.
On the rare occasion Jim questioned himself on the wisdom of exposing a gentle spirit to the brutal realities of a cop's life, it was all to easy to dismiss the concern by reminding himself that Blair had been the one to burrow into him, attaching himself to Jim the times Jim had tried to leave him behind. In hindsight, Jim had to admit Blair had done that out of the same compassion and urge to help that he had for everyone. In some ways, he probably felt responsible for Jim because he was in the unique position of being the only person who understood a sentinel's abilities and needs.
If Blair had let that same sense of responsibility dictate his willingness to bed Jim, it would have destroyed them in the long run. Jim was sure of that, making him doubly grateful that Blair had not only fallen in love with him, but honestly wanted him for himself. He just wished with all his soul he had more to give in return than one battered body and one equally battered heart.
At least sentinel gifts made the most out of what he had to provide physically. If nothing else, he was confident of his ability to please his lover in the sack, hence his obsession with doing just that. Great sex wasn't everything, but, by god, it went a good way toward covering the basics, he told himself yet again, scribbling in the sand the same heart, the same initials he had just erased.
But even there, he wasn't giving as much as he received. Though he loved to bottom, it was difficult for him to relax enough for his body to permit it. Usually it took some heavy-duty foreplay and persistence on Blair's part, and even then it left him so sore that the next day was uncomfortable. Blair had no such problems, loved being entered even more, and they had fallen into the habit of Jim topping when they made love, instead of doing other things they both enjoyed. Since he'd admitted to himself that he wasn't being fair in that department, he'd done his best to make it even better for Blair.
The problem with that, of course, was that Jim couldn't stop himself from concentrating too hard on technique and Blair's responses, leaving him a step behind emotionally. No way Blair wouldn't notice that, and Jim suspected that the reason his partner had insisted on coming up to the cabin for their anniversary was to get to the reason behind Jim's distance. How the hell was he supposed to explain that he loved him so much and felt so guilty for it, he couldn't let go and enjoy himself any more?
It wasn't just in the bedroom either. Every moment they spent together, he felt like a thief waiting for the knock on the door from the owner of the riches he'd purloined. This time Jim just didn't scrub away the drawing, he dug it out, as if to dig the meaning behind it out of himself. He wasn't just hurting himself with his stupidity, he was hurting Blair and that had to stop, right now. No matter what he had to do.
On impulse Jim kicked out of his flip-flops and cutoffs, then waded out into the lake, aiming for the overhang that he liked to dive from. Well aware of the danger of swimming alone, he sent his senses out ahead to make sure there were no unexpected obstacles, and stayed close enough to shore that he could touch bottom if he had to. The tight focus necessary for that quieted the turmoil in his head, and he used it to climb the cliff, not releasing himself even when he was at the top. He took a moment to shiver in the cold breeze, admiring the splendor of moonlight, old growth forest, tranquil lake. When the inevitable thought crossed his mind that Blair was more beautiful, Jim dove, arrowing down straight and true.
The water welcomed him in like a lover, taking him down into the depths past the sunshine-warmed top level. At the bottom of his dive, he went limp, letting his natural buoyancy slowly bring him back to the surface. With all his senses muffled by the water - taste and smell negated except for the mineral bite of the water, skin numbed by cold, hearing gone except for dull thud of his own heart, sight useless except to see the glow of the moon high above him - he was freed of the constant mental exertion it took to control them. For as long as his breath held out, Jim could just drift, without even the worry of a zone out to stop him from just *being.*
He had wondered more than once if this temporary peace was what Blair sought with meditation; if so, he could see why his lover used it to calm the mad maelstrom that Jim suspected was the normal state for him. In the all-encompassing stillness, he could finally hear, see, feel clearly, and knew what he had to do. The only thing that truly mattered to him was Blair; not the job, not the tribe, any of the duties or obligations he had taken on. Only Blair. He would find a way to make sure that Blair had the best life any man could ask for.
Locating the dock by the subtle change in the water pressure and the way it bounced against his ear drums, Jim struck out for solid land and his lover. He had just enough air left to kick hard as he came up from under the last piling, hands reaching to catch and hoist himself out on the edge of the wood. As if summoned by his earlier thoughts, Blair was sitting there, wrapped like a mummy in a comforter, expression serene.
Startled, Jim caught his gaze and fell into it as surely as if he'd dived from a great height. Blair's understanding and acceptance of him, loving him just as he was, surrounded Jim, setting him adrift in the sure knowledge that he was what Blair wanted and needed, and always had been.
They froze, unable to do more than stare into each other, then Blair reached out to cup Jim's chin on the points of his fingers. Lips already open, he leaned forward as Jim stretched toward him, both suspended in a timeless moment of exquisite anticipation…
***
Of one mind they moved together, heat meeting chill, lips branding each other with possession. With twin murmurs of pleasure, breath was exchanged, tongues came into play, and their kiss deepened into an echo of the ancient give and take of all lovers, the rhythm resonating throughout their bodies. It fed the hunger they shared until neither could bear the space between them any longer.
Blair lay back as Jim surged the rest of the way out of the water to hover over him on elbows and knees, sparing him the clamminess of damp skin. In appreciation, Blair covered Jim's nipples with his palms, giving a start in sympathy with him when his touch scalded its way along Jim's spine. Jim threw back his head, mouth opening on a silent cry, and arched into the light pressure. Emboldened by his reaction, Blair curled his fingers in a random path down Jim's abdomen, not letting the cold seep into his flesh, so that his touch burned Jim every inch of the way.
When Blair would have wrapped Jim's length in his hot grip, Jim dodged with a dip of his hips, dropping lower in a silent request for him to continue the caresses onto his back. Sultry warmth built between them as Blair complied, dreamily visiting the curve of Jim's shoulder blades, the hard lines of his sides, the taut mounds of his ass. Reclaiming Blair's mouth, Jim tugged away blanket and robe until nothing was between them.
Any residual cold from Jim's swim flashed away as he lowered himself to cover Blair, but not before chills prickled over Blair from head to toe, raising his nipples to pebbled hardness. They dug at the smooth plane of Jim's chest, a sharp contrast to the clinging whips of hair that flayed at him from everywhere else on Blair's torso. With a sharp 'ah' of startled pleasure, Blair rocked his upper body from side to side, dragging the hard peaks across Jim's as if they were flint and stone, and he intended to create a spark.
Sharp/sweet flares of sensation radiated from tit to groin and dick, and before long they were undulating against each other, arms and legs locking them tightly together. A chance shift meant to let Blair pull Jim into him harder sent his fingertips skittering along Jim's cleft, and Jim abruptly tore his lips away from Blair's. Resting his forehead on Blair's shoulder, he adjusted his stance so that his knees were planted on either side of Blair's hips, opening himself to his probing.
"Please," Jim panted, fumbling for the lube he could scent in the pocket of the robe. "Please."
Blair's cock leaped between them, and instead of asking, as he usually did, if Jim was sure, he hissed, "Yes, yes, yes. Want it, don't you?"
"Need it," Jim murmured against rough rasp of five o'clock shadow on Blair's jaw. "So bad, so bad."
Between them, with shaking hands, they spread slick where it needed to be, working to ready Jim. They were nearly whimpering with frustration by the time he was stretched, asshole greedily squeezing at Blair's fingers. Jim reached between them to place Blair's hardon where it was required, but held still as Blair breached him, penetrating in a long, slow, unbearably good thrust.
Jim lifted away as Blair withdrew, met his next thrust, and they unhurriedly rode each other, as much delight in the union as in the delicious friction of flesh within flesh. Eventually lust had to have its way, and their movements grew more urgent, more necessary, until waves were slapping against the boards of the dock, created by the force of their joining. Driven by demands of the body, Jim sat up, clothed in pagan splendor by the moon's magic, taking Blair in a last powerful slam as he found his own straining cock and fisted it roughly.
Under him, made mysterious with play of shadow and dapples of reflected light from the water, Blair dug his heels into weathered wood, back bowing up to give Jim the last millimeters of his cock as he filled him with his seed. Groaning Blair's name, Jim came with him, seed jetting from him. Their release trembled through them for a short eternity, allowing awareness of nothing but their shared ecstasy and love. When it inevitably faded, Jim sagged, fighting for breath, and tumbled to his side, taking Blair with him. Pulling the all-but-forgotten blanket over them, he returned Blair's fierce hug until they calmed, bodies nestling together instead of struggling to remain connected.
They traded small, pecking kisses and murmurs of satisfaction, Jim sniffing at the variety of scents that could be found on a happy, well-laid Blair. The aromas percolated through him, pulling lazy threads of renewed desire, until Blair pushed him an arm's length away, smirking.
"Again, so soon?"
"Can't get enough of you lately," Jim muttered, angling to lick at the cap of his ear. "I could just eat you up, all the time, like you're chocolate and I've never had any before."
Purring at the image, Blair said, "I could get into that."
"No surprise," Jim chuckled. Honesty compelled him to kiss the end of Blair's nose and admit, "I want it so bad, so often these days, it scared me into putting too much distance between us."
Eyeing him, Blair said wisely, "Which only made you want me want me worse, right?"
"Which made me pull back even more, which made me crazy," Jim returned, "Which was getting to you, wasn't it?"
Drawing a line over Jim's nose down to his lips, Blair said, "I thought maybe you were getting tired of me."
"Not in this lifetime," Jim said instantly and so definitely that Blair blinked at him in surprise. "Probably not the next, either." Unexpectedly he grew pensive, and kissed Blair's palm. "So much more you could have done in this one, Chief.So much more you could have been. I'm eternally grateful you're mine, but sometimes it feels like I stole your life, taking everything and giving nothing but trouble and responsibility."
Mumbling something that sounded vaguely like 'thought I was insecure,' Blair sighed and wrapped himself around Jim again. "All you stole was my loneliness. All you took was what I was eager to give. In return you gave me all of you. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could ever mean as much to me as that."
Leaning his forehead into Blair's, Jim murmured, "Love you, Chief."
"Same here, man. Happy Anniversary."
finis