Impact, m/m (J/B) h/c, no hurt above the neck, no comfort below the shoulders.
They stood in the kitchen, cleaning up after a mostly silent dinner. At least, Jim was cleaning. Blair was trying, but the cast on his right arm reduced him to fetching and carrying. It ran from his fingers to his elbow, bright blue and peeking out the end of the sling. Jim tried not to stare, and focused on what Blair was asking him.
"Look, I know this sounds funny, but can you help me wash my hair tonight and comb it out? I can't take care of it one-handed, but I don't want to cut it. Not without buying some time to think about it. Today has been way too long already to make that kind of a decision tonight."
"Okay."
Blair looked at Jim suspiciously. "Okay?" he questioned, cocking his head. "Jim, are you agreeing to this out of guilt? No, wait, forget I asked, I'll just accept and analyze later once my hair doesn't feel like it's ready to walk off on its own."
"It was my fault."
"No, it wasn't. I picked today to try to hit the ground on my own when the shooting started, you didn't realize, knocked us down like always, and my arm couldn't deal with your weight and my weight and the impact all at the same time. It was inevitable. I had to learn to dodge sometime, you know." Blair smiled to take the sting out of his words.
Jim stood frowning, washing the last plate, and only said: "Get the shampoo. The kitchen sink is probably the only place I'll be able to get your head under the faucet."
"You know, that sounds really ominous, man. Even in context."
Jim shrugged. "I could use the dish soap."
Blair walked to the bathroom and returned with shampoo, spray detangler, a wide-toothed comb and some towels. He took the sling off, then his T-shirt as well. "Could you pass me a clean plastic bag? I really don't want the cast to get wet." Jim gave him a bag, and Blair wrapped it around his cast before putting the arm back in its sling and bending over the sink. Jim watched silently as Blair shook his hair forward and the muscles from his waist to his neck cleanly transferred the movement.
Jim started the water, waiting until it ran warm and strong to cup Blair's forehead with one wet hand. He put his other hand on the back of Blair's neck and guided Blair's head forward. He let the water run down through the darkening locks, working open channels with his fingers, twisting Blair as needed with his support hand, until Blair's hair was soaked and ready.
Still cupping Blair's forehead, Jim stopped the water and squeezed shampoo onto the curls in back, then worked it forward and out, down to the tips and around to the crown of Blair's head. He gathered the dangling mass, piling it up on Blair's head, then slid his hand off Blair's forehead. He lathered the shampoo, letting the weight of Blair's head against the movement of his fingers do as much as his fingers themselves.
He finished washing with his palms on the corners of Blair's jaw, and ran a foamy thumb down each sideburn. Turning the water back on with his elbow, he rinsed just as slowly and thoroughly as he had lathered. Jim returned his left hand to Blair's forehead, turned off the water and reached over Blair to grab a towel. He gently dried off Blair's shoulders and neck before wrapping his hair in the towel and raising his head up. Grabbing the detangler and wrapping another towel around Blair's chest to further protect the cast, Jim left a hand on his shoulder and guided him to the floor by the couch.
Blair's eyes were still mostly closed. Exhausted by the day, relaxed by Jim's gentleness and sure hands, he just trusted, letting himself be moved around until he sat cross-legged with his back to Jim and the comb. Slowly, careful not to hurt, Jim sprayed the detangler and combed out Blair's hair, toweling it off as he went. Blair's hair was just damp by the time Jim could comb easily through it all.
Jim ran the comb through the hair behind Blair's right ear. The curls wrapped around the comb, but still flowed, smooth and clinging at once, lifting off Blair's neck as Jim combed deeper into the mass and pulled gently. Blair sighed and let his head roll back with the movement of the comb, unconsciously exposing the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Jim dropped his head forward and nuzzled the curve, then ran his lips lightly along Blair's collarbone to the muscular triangle of a shoulder. His slow sweep continued over it, opening his mouth and sucking lightly as he moved down until he nipped at the bottom of the deltoid and stopped, teeth not fully together and his forehead resting against the top of the sling.
"Jim? Uh, Jim, what are you doing? Are you zoning? JIM!" Blair twisted as he yelled, and Jim's mouth lost contact with Blair's shoulder. Jim shook his head, as if to clear it.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that." Jim's voice was strained, and he looked away from Blair's eyes as Blair tried to make eye contact.
"Sorry for touching me like that or sorry for zoning?" Blair sat forward, finishing the twist so he faced Jim, putting more distance between them and hunching his shoulders in, clutching the sling and towel to his bare chest.
"Both. Neither. I don't know." Jim leaned back against the couch, still not meeting Blair's eyes.
"So you did zone out, on something about my body." Blair's voice was soft, reflective. "We need to analyze this, but I can't process this right now, Jim. I need some time to think. Do you think you'll zone like that again if I'm not near you?"
"No." Jim whispered, He looked up and met Blair's scared eyes with resignation and regret. "We can talk tomorrow. But no matter what we decide, I'll wash and comb your hair until the cast comes off, if you still want me to."
"Thank you." Blair got up and walked to his room, his still-damp
hair dragging across his shoulders and clinging to his stubble.
Jim stayed sitting on the floor until he heard Blair's breathing
drop into the steadiness of sleep, then went upstairs. He lay
awake for hours, just listening to Blair and trying not to think.