The characters are owned by Pet Fly, et al. This story was written for fun and no profits will be made.

Another birthday gift! Thanks to TSL for your comments and continuing encouragement.

#5 in the Sports Series.

This story is a sequel to: MisQ

blind pass -- a pass from a ball handler who does not see his receiver, but is estimating where he should be.

Blair heard the squeak of sneakers on the gym floor and sighed in relief. It had been weeks since he'd joined them and was thankful they still met. What had first begun as a pick-up basketball game two years ago had evolved into a regular Saturday morning event. The faces changed occasionally, but more often than not, the same people played every week.

Although his head pounded and his stomach rolled restlessly from the previous night's drinking binge, Blair stepped into the doorway. Six players had turned out this morning and were playing three-on-three. With his ever-present backpack slung over a slumped shoulder, Blair leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms and ankles to watch the game. The usual gym aroma swirled around him--stale sweat and general body odors mixed with oft-used equipment and floor cleaner.

He let his thoughts wander back to the first time he'd shown up to play. Being the shortest person again, he'd flashbacked to the little geeky eighth grader who was always picked last. The summer after that awkward adolescent year Blair had practiced on the court with the same doggedness he normally gave his studies. He'd worked hard, harder than he'd ever worked for anything before. For a kid who was accustomed to having things come easy, it was a lesson in humility. But he never gave up. Not Naomi Sandburg's little boy. The next year Blair was enrolled in yet another school and the first day of Phys Ed was a repeat of so many others. Again, he was chosen last, but that was the final time that happened.

Blair smiled at the memory. He'd even impressed the coach, so much so that he'd gained a mentor and friend in Mr. Walters. Blair made the JV basketball team and played nearly every game. It was his first success outside of academics and he thrived on the attention he garnered from the girls and his classmates. It was the year he lost his virginity to a girl named Tricia Sweeney under the bleachers after practice one evening. Two years later, he lost another kind of virginity to Nicky Harris in the locker room after the state championship victory.

Basketball and sex were inexplicably intertwined in Blair's hot-wiring, so it was no wonder he sought out a basketball game after what had happened last night.

Blair shifted uncomfortably as the previous night's memories twined through the pleasant long-ago recollections. For one of the few times in his life, he didn't want to think about and dissect his feelings. What happened between them was inexplicable. Blair had known it from the moment Jim had slammed him up against the wall in his office that first day. After three years of build-up, it was no wonder they'd gotten off without even removing their clothes.

"Hey, Burg!"

Blair straightened and sauntered over to Mike Evans, one of the players who'd been there since the inception. "Hi Mike. I see the gang's still meeting."

Mike wiped some sweat from his flushed face as he shrugged. "Habit, and it feels good to sweat it out after a wild night."

Blair laughed uneasily at the comment which struck a little too close to home. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Your roommate here, too?" Mike glanced around.

"Not this time." Jim had accompanied him the last two times Blair had played. Blair's friends had accepted him easily. Although, come to think of it, they were maybe just in awe of the police officer of the year. He waved at the players on the sidelines who were gulping down bottled water. "Odd number. I'll sit and watch until someone wants a break."

Mike grinned. "Which'll probably be sooner than you think. Party last night at Giff's. Couple of the guys are just hangin' this side of the porcelain bus."

Blair nodded in understanding. He and Mike joined the other players, who greeted Blair with hand slaps and smiles.

Jeff, a red-haired senior, pressed his arm to his stomach and his face paled, making his freckles more apparent. "Take my place," he abruptly said to Blair, then bolted for the side door.

"Giff's?" Blair asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yep," Mike replied, his lips twitching and his eyes laughing.

Despite his own shaky stomach, Blair shook his head and grinned. He tossed his backpack on a bleacher and removed his jacket and sweatpants. "It's been awhile."

"Like riding a bicycle," Mike assured.

He tossed Blair the ball and he bounced it a couple times, getting the feel of the motion again. The familiarity of the basketball in his hands settled Blair's frayed nerves and he loped across the court, dribbling with ease and went in for a perfect lay-up.

"Don't think you have to worry, Burg," Mike called to him. He joined Blair and handed him a red mesh vest, which Blair donned over his t-shirt.

Blair did a quick reconnaissance, taking note of the two other men also wearing red vests-Noah and Paul. He'd played with them before. "All right. Let's do it," Blair said.

Noah took the ball to the sidelines and tossed it out to Blair, who spun around and dribbled past Mike. Adrenaline surged through Blair's veins and the immediacy of the game didn't allow him time to dwell on his troubled thoughts. He reveled in the sheer pleasure of using his body to dart around the court, passing the ball to his teammates, and jumping for a three point shot. The ball struck the rim, bounced once and fell through the net. Blair punched the air.

Words of praise and camaraderie flowed around him and he grinned broadly. For the next fifteen minutes, he concentrated on the game and his body's motions. The thudding of his feet on the court, the expansion and contraction of his muscles as he wheeled and charged, and the air flowing in his face as he raced toward the basket and flew upward to sink the ball with practiced ease.

When they finally took a break, Blair's team was leading fifteen to twelve. Although he breathed heavily and sweat was saturating his t-shirt and waistband, Blair buzzed with energy, like a caffeine high without the coffee.

"Man, you're lit up," Paul commented to Blair in between sips of water.

"Yeah, what's going on, Blair? New meds?" Noah teased.

Mike laughed. "Not our Burg. He's high on life."

"Or maybe he just needs to get laid," Jeff interjected as he lounged on the bleachers. He appeared to be feeling better after his rushed visit to the restroom.

Blair's smile wobbled only for a split second. "All work and no play makes Blair very good at basketball."

Huffs and snorts met his comment.

A tingle at the base of his neck made Blair pause in mid-smile. He turned slowly and his gaze collided with eyes he knew better than his own. The equilibrium he'd gained on the court shattered.

"Looks like your roommate showed up after all," Mike remarked, oblivious to Blair's inner turmoil. He waved to Jim. "C'mon, we can use another player!"

Blair tried to keep his expression neutral, but the sight of Jim's strolling gait and innate confidence brought sensory memories avalanching back. Jim's hands on his bare back and clutching his ass. Jim's features contorted in pleasure so powerful, it was almost pain. Jim's little moans and passion-filled whispers.

Blair turned his back to his approaching roommate and concentrated on wiping the sweat from his arms and neck. They'd been drunk and had carried things a little too far last night. The last thing Blair wanted to do was jeopardize their friendship. The buddy fuck had been better than fantastic, but could their friendship survive the added physical factor?

Why the hell is Jim here?

Mike introduced Jim to the other players, doing the task with an overt amount of touching--a hand on Jim's shoulder or his arm or his lower back. But then, Mike had made no secret of his attraction to the tall, well-built detective. The first time Jim played basketball with them, Mike had been in Blair's office early Monday morning, interrogating him about the buff cop.

Blair was painfully aware of his roommate even though he tried to keep his gaze centered elsewhere. The glimpse he'd caught of Jim framed in the gym doorway showed him in his sweats and carrying his bag. Blair shouldn't have left the note.

"You ready to go again, Jeff?" Noah asked.

"Just waiting on you all," Jeff replied.

"You'll be on our team," Mike said to Jim with a little more eagerness than Blair appreciated.

Blair lifted his gaze to find Jim sitting on the lowest bleacher as he removed his sweatpants, revealing baggy basketball shorts. He wore a gray Cascade PD t-shirt under his faded Ron Jon hooded sweatshirt. When he stood again, Blair couldn't help but notice he was the tallest and most well-muscled man in the gym. And Mike was almost salivating.

"We gonna play or what?" Blair said impatiently.

"Need to warm up, Jim?" Mike asked.

"I'm good," the cop replied.

"Since we got the last player, we take it out," Mike said. He stepped out of bounds and waited until everybody had scrambled into place, then tossed the ball to his teammate Chris.

Blair found himself guarding Jim. He and the sentinel had played numerous games of one-on-one and knew the moves each used. It only took a minute or two before everything but the game was forgotten, and Blair fell back into an easy flow. He kept close to Jim, keeping him from getting near the basket. Jim tried to pass the ball to Mike and Blair stole it. He thundered down the court, his tennis shoes flapping and squeaking on the floor. Taking it straight to the basket, he jumped up and lobbed it in.

"Two for big Lou," Blair shouted.

"A pair for big Blair," Noah corrected with a wide grin.

"Not bad, partner," Jim congratulated. "But you gotta make a lot more of those to beat us."

"Try a few more of those moves, Ellison, and I will," Blair bantered, caught up in the moment.

Jim swung at the back of his head, but Blair zigged and Jim swatted only hair. The motion was so typical Blair began to wonder if last night really happened. Grinning, Blair scurried into position just as Chris was ready to take the ball out. He passed it to Mike who took it down the floor, then threw an overhead pass to Jim who caught it, dribbled twice, spun around and sank the ball.

"Burg isn't the only one with the fancy moves," Mike said as he slapped Jim's palm.

Irritation curled through Blair at Mike and Jim's shared grins. Suddenly, Blair had a shocking moment of clarity, of what it would feel like if he and Jim were no longer best friends. The feeling made him sick to his stomach.

"Chief, you okay?"

Jim's worried voice broke through his distress, and he raised his head to see the familiar, comforting face of his sentinel. Blair managed a smile. "A little too much to drink last night, y'know?"

Jim laid a hand on his shoulder and studied him with probing blue eyes. "Yeah, I know," he said softly.

Blair had the insane urge to kiss Jim right there, in the middle of the gym, with six other men watching them. He shoved the impulse down and stepped back, forcing Jim's hand to fall away.

"You must've been practicing your moves, Ellison," Blair said, hoping his forced smile covered his confusion.

"Gotta keep up with my roommate," Jim teased.

Blair's smile became genuine.

The two friends joined the other players and the game continued. Baskets were exchanged evenly, keeping the score close, until Noah collected a defensive rebound and went for the fast break with Blair in midcourt. Blair drove to the basket, saw Jim directly in front of him, then feinted, pivoted and scored.

With unspoken agreement, the eight players headed to the sidelines for water bottles and towels. As if driven by instinct, Blair and Jim found themselves standing side by side as they gulped down water. Sweat splotches stained Jim's loose gray t-shirt across his chest and between his shoulderblades. Rivulets of sweat rolled down Jim's neck and saturated his collar. Blair knew he was probably just as damp, but looked ten times worse. Jim was the only man Blair knew who could look just as good, if not better, in the sweat-soaked look.

He caught Mike ogling Jim and, before he could stop himself, shifted so he stood in Mike's line of sight. Realizing what he'd done, Blair inwardly groaned while trying to remain casual.

"Your friend Mike is gay, right?" Jim asked Blair in a low voice.

"Uh, yeah," Blair stammered, caught off-guard by the question. "Why?"

"Because he's throwing off pheromones like crazy." Jim didn't meet Blair's gaze.

Didn't Jim know it was himself causing Mike's reaction? Or did he think--

"No way, man. Mike and I have been friends for years," Blair said.

"You and I have been friends for years."

The air left Blair's lungs in a gust.

"Shit, I gotta go," Paul said, glancing up from his watch which had been lying by his towel.

"What time is it?" Chris asked.

"Eleven."

More groans sounded and soon half the players were waving goodbye to Jim, Blair, Mike, and Noah, who remained.

"How about some half court two-on-two?" Mike suggested, trying to spin the ball on his finger. It skidded off the tip and bounced toward Jim, who caught it.

"You up for another round, Chief?" Jim asked, holding the ball against his side.

"Sure," Blair replied.

"Blair and I'll take on you two," Jim said to Mike and Noah.

Surprised, Blair wondered why he made the suggestion sound like an Ellison edict. He darted a glance at Mike and nearly laughed at his flustered expression. Blair was certain Mike planned on playing with Jim.

Over my dead body.

The thought shocked Blair and he jogged out onto the floor, hoping Jim hadn't picked up on his racing heartbeat.

Mike and Noah took the ball out and Blair focused on defense. Jim took the front court zone and Blair kept close to the ball handler. Being smaller and quicker, Blair didn't have any trouble following their moves. Mike swiveled on one foot and Blair managed to slap the ball away from him. Mike and Noah immediately double-teamed him, effectively blinding him to Jim's position. Working on pure instinct, Blair twisted away and threw the ball. He turned to see Jim catch the ball in mid-jump and stuff it through the net.

"Yeah!" Blair shouted and punched the air.

Jim's grin lit up his flushed face.

As they continued to play, Blair found he didn't have to visually keep track of Jim. He just knew_ where he was at, just as Jim just _knew Blair's position.

When the score hit twenty to eleven, Mike and Noah surrendered.

Panting, Blair braced his hands on his knees. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the floor and his head buzzed slightly, but it was a good buzz.

Jim joined him, sitting on the court with his knees drawn up as he, too, breathed heavily. "You okay, Chief?"

Blair smiled. "Oh, yeah. Nothing like some adrenaline-fueled endorphins kicking through the system."

Mike and Noah stumbled over.

"Next time we keep you two apart," Mike said, pointing an accusing finger at first Blair and then Jim.

"Hey, I thought we played good together," Blair said.

"Too good," Noah said. "You two were like one smooth machine."

Blair and Jim exchanged looks. They lived together, worked together and spent much of their free time together. They were also bound by the sentinel and guide connection. It was no wonder they could almost read each other's moves before they made them.

Mike eyed them closely, but there wasn't anything but curiosity and maybe a little envy. "Whatever it was, you blew us away. You'll have to give us a rematch some day."

"You got it," Jim said. He started to rise and Blair offered his hand. Jim accepted it and Blair pulled him to his feet as the detective stifled a groan. "I'm getting too old for this."

Blair slapped his flat stomach. "Yeah, you're so out of shape, old man."

Jim threw him a dirty look, but the twinkle in his eyes belied it.

"I gotta get going," Noah said. "I'm supposed to meet with my study group at noon."

"Yeah, I have to go, too. My sister's coming to take me out to lunch," Mike said.

Mike and Noah shook hands with Jim and Blair, then grabbed their bags and loped out of the gym.

Alone with Jim, Blair could feel his earlier tension returning. He walked to the sidelines and retrieved his water bottle. He finished it in three gulps, then picked up his towel and wiped his face. Keeping his gaze averted from his partner, Blair tugged on his sweatpants and sweatshirt. Before he could reach back to lift his limp ponytail from beneath the collar, gentle fingers brushed his neck and eased his hair out. The hands settled on his shoulders and began to massage the tight muscles.

"I'm not sorry," Jim said quietly.

Blair's heart skipped a beat. "I'm not either." He took a deep breath. "I-I just don't do commitment very well."

A soft chuckle startled Blair. "What about the last three years?"

"That's different. We weren't, uh, doing it."

"Doing what? Loving each other?"

"Yeah," Blair admitted, his voice hoarse.

Warm, moist air puffed across Blair's neck. "I've loved you for a long time."

Blair turned around slowly and met Jim's tender gaze. "You love me because I'm your guide and best friend, just like I love you because you're my sentinel and best friend."

Jim cupped Blair's face in his palms. "We're good together, Chief. You can't deny that."

Blair shook his head. "No, I can't. But I don't want to lose what we have, either."

Jim smiled affectionately. "That's not going to happen." He grew serious. "If you think we can't sleep together occasionally and stay friends, then we won't. It's as simple as that."

A bubble of hysteria rose in Blair and he gripped Jim's forearms. "Please don't put this totally on me, Jim. I-I do want you. But it's so much easier to hurt each other."

"Like we haven't hurt each other before?" Jim's thumbs brushed Blair's cheeks, and velvet slid through Blair's veins. "I love you, Blair, but I'm not sure I'm in love with you." He smiled wryly. "I'm not certain I know what that means. All I know is I like being with you, whether we're grocery shopping, arguing over the remote, interviewing a witness, or making love."

Blair considered Jim's startling confession. Blair had slept with friends who knew it was simply sex, a release and sharing with someone each cared about. Blair supposed it was something he'd inherited from Naomi, the queen of no-strings sex. But Jim hadn't struck him as the casual sex type, especially with another man.

"Had you slept with a man before last night?" Blair asked curiously.

"Have you?"

"I asked you first."

Jim surrendered. "Nothing serious. College and army."

"It's been awhile."

"Yeah. You're the first man who's tempted me in a long time." His eyes glittered mischievously.

Desire shivered through Blair. Sleeping with a sentinel would definitely be a delight for the senses, on both sides of the mattress. He smiled tremulously into the handsome countenance of his best friend. "The first time was when I was sixteen and there's been a few men in college. But only women since I started living with you."

Jim swept his hands down to Blair's shoulders and gave them a squeeze. "What do you say we play it day to day? What happens, happens."

Although Blair felt a tendril of unease, he nodded. "No pressure."

"No pressure," Jim repeated. He released Blair and picked up his gym bag, then slung an arm around Blair's shoulders. "Busy day today, Chief. Shopping, cleaning, and we promised Simon we'd help him with that deck he's been working on for two months."

Blair snagged his backpack and the bounce returned to his step. "Maybe we should skip the cleaning this week."

"Maybe I should leave you at the loft to clean while I do the shopping."

"I have a better idea. I'll shop and you clean."

The two men continued their light-hearted argument all the way out of the gym.

End Blind Pass by Romslinger: romslinger@yahoo.com

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