Author's webpage: http://www.ravenswing.com/bas/

Author's disclaimer: No hair was harmed in the creation of this story.

Author's notes: Thanks to Laura JV for the beta. This satisfies the Butterfly challenge (not that I think anyone else is going to jump to the challenge, but there you are).

Jim stirred the stew with one hand and picked up the videos Blair rented with the other.

"Burnt by the Sun?"

"Russian movie. It won an Oscar." Blair was emptying out the pockets of his jacket.

"What's it about?"

"Seduction, betrayal, Stalin. Balloons. Wheat. The usual."

"Okay." Jim poked at the beef chunks. "And Bladerunner? I've seen Bladerunner."

"Director's cut. They took out that goofy voice-over and added some good stuff." Blair unfolded a piece of paper and grinned. "Oh, hey. Kim's phone number. I thought I lost that." He hung up his jacket and carried the paper reverently into his room. Jim scowled.

"Sandburg?"

"Yeah?"

"It's a movie about a cop."

"So?"

"Why would I want to watch a movie about a cop?"

Blair pushed back the curtain and blinked at Jim. "It's a cop of the future. There's naked women and robotic owls."

"Nice priorities. And this other one, I guess it doesn't end well? A nice depressing Russian movie?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen it. I got it because I wanted to see it." His tone was combative, but he was smiling, which meant he was just being a dick. Typical Blair.

"I guess the idea of us actually enjoying ourselves on a Friday night is bourgeois."

"I am enjoying myself. If that doesn't sound good to you, maybe you should have expressed an opinion when I asked you to." Blair grinned.

Jim shook his head. "Toss us a salad, Solzhenitsyn."

"Konechno. I'll be sure to include the shaved carrots of the people." Blair saluted and headed for the fridge.

Jim unwrapped the paper from the baguette and set it in the oven to warm up. He leaned back on the counter and watched Blair bent over, fighting his hair as he fished salad ingredients out of the crisper.

"I swear I'm going to cut this shit off," Blair grumbled, finally grabbing a fistful of curls in one hand as he retrieved bean sprouts with the other.

"I thought you said you were never going to cut your hair?"

Blair looked at Jim upside-down. "I won't cut it for you. I might cut it for me."

"I see."

"It's important to establish boundaries in a relationship." Blair straightened up, and suddenly went pale, staggering. Jim caught his shoulders, letting Blair sag against him. "Whoa. Head rush."

"You okay?"

"Yeah--I just stood up too quickly. No problem." Blair leaned back against Jim's hands for a moment, straightening out his hair. "No problem."

Jim rubbed his shoulders and let him go. "Not going to swoon on me, are you?"

"Wasn't planning on it. But maybe a few voluptuous sighs later. It depends on how good that stew is." Blair opened the romaine lettuce, tearing leaves into a colander.

Jim tasted the stew and decided it was done. The meat was cooked and the broth tasted good. "Soup's on." He carried the pot over to the kitchen table, setting it on a trivet.

"Just be a minute here."

"With the people's carrots?"

"With the sentinel's mushrooms." He held up a handful of sliced button mushrooms.

"Tasty." Jim pulled the bread from the oven onto a cutting board. "Do we have any real butter?"

"Cholesterol, Jim."

"Live a little, Chief."

"No, I do not believe we have any butter." Blair carried the colander over to the sink and washed the ingredients.

"Just bargain-basement margarine, eh?"

"Don't knock my frugal ways."

"Chief, you skimp on the basics and spend money on the exotics. Me, I'm the other way around. Like this bread." He held up the baguette. "This is excellent bread."

Blair smiled at Jim, transferring the salad into a bowl. "It is excellent bread."

"You would probably get some kind of herbal-egg-peppercorn thing that costs six bucks, and then not get real butter."

"No, I would get the French bread, because that is an excellent loaf." Blair grinned and took the salad to the table. Jim brought the bread and plates, and they both dished up dinner.

Blair chewed meditatively. "You know, for a guy with no taste in movies, you make a hell of a beef stew," he said.

"I have great taste in movies."

"Yeah? Name one movie you like that doesn't involve explosions."

"The Wedding Banquet."

Blair choked. "The Wedding Banquet? Ang Lee? A gay Chinese man getting married to please his parents?"

"Yep."

"Why won't you admit that you're gay?"

"I'm not gay, I'm cultured," Jim said, and chewed salad at Blair.

"You're so gay."

Jim looked at Blair across the table, waiting to see what he would come up with this time.

"Admit it, Jim, you know you want to."

Jim sipped his water and cut more bread. Give Blair enough silence, and he was sure to fill it...

"I saw that movie in the theaters with my boyfriend." Blair grinned. "This great big Viking of a guy, with tattoos all over him. But not, like, demons and things, like you would expect; he had Chinese dragons in black and white up both arms, really beautiful, but then flowers over the rest of his body, and ferns on his legs. It's was beautiful but bizarre. Oh, and on his ass--butterflies. Two hard handfuls of butterflies."

Jim coughed. "Butterflies?"

"Yeah." Blair looked misty.

That story was worth it. "See, I saw it with my friend."

"The hand job friend?"

"Yeah."

"Why won't you call him your boyfriend?"

Jim propped his chin in one hand and looked at Blair, deciding how much to tell him; finally deciding to spill. "Because if, hypothetically, I admitted to having a boyfriend, or being gay at all, then you'll stop trying to catch me. And I really enjoy your attempts to catch me."

Blair's eyes went enormous. "You asshole."

Jim grinned.

"You asshole!" Blair threw his bread at Jim. Jim caught it. Blair finally stood up. "I am kicking your ass." He stalked around the table.

Jim jumped up from his chair and met Blair halfway, grinning uncontrollably. Blair looked gorgeous, his eyes fixed on Jim's face, his mouth parted just enough to show one canine tooth biting his lower lip. He planted both hands on Jim's chest and pushed him not-quite off-balance. "You were purposefully trying to piss me off."

"A bit." God, but he was appealing. He would never have thought the little guy would be so tough. And he fought for Jim, not just with Jim, which made it even better.

"A bit! Jerk." He pushed Jim again, harder, and Jim grinned wider. "Why?"

"Why?" Jim grabbed Blair's shirt and propelled him over to the door. "Because you're cute when you're frustrated," he said, lifting Blair off his feet, and Jim kissed him.

Jim could feel Blair trying to talk through the kiss, so he pressed harder. Blair's arms circled his shoulders and he relaxed as Jim set him back on the floor.

"Mm."

"Yes, Chief?"

"Um. That was unexpected."

"You don't give me enough credit, Chief. I can be surprising when I want to."

"I guess." Blair left his arms around Jim's neck and leaned his head back against the door. Jim slid his hands into Blair's back pockets.

"No butterflies back there," Blair murmured.

"Wasn't expecting them," Jim said, planting a kiss on Blair's jaw. Blair's mouth curved into a smile and he gave a tiny laugh.

"So why delay?"

"Had to be sure." Had to be sure Blair was in it for more than just a paper or a one-night stand. But nobody pushed a man out of a helicopter just for a string of letters after his name; you did it for a friend. And Blair did it months ago.

It was high time to jump aboard the Sandburg freight train.

Jim kissed Blair's chin. "Chief?"

"Yeah?" Blair was sliding a hand down Jim's back, still sounding dazed.

"Get rid of Kim's phone number."

"Who's Kim?" He licked Jim's ear.

"Exactly."

end.