Author's notes: my entry into my challenge. how's that for self- indulgent? (but it doesn't beat cookies dipped in frosting :) for merry and wanda and r'rain and chameleon the rest of the gang over on slashfic tonight (hope i didn't forget anybody) -- they really cheered me up. it was *fun*.
not mine
not beta'd
G (*really*. it is!) (amazing, i know, i didn't think it was possible either :) and entirely from Jim's POV, go figure
In the end, the decision was easier for Ellison than it had any right to be.
He'd done his time in the Army, done the Covert Ops bit, played the good soldier -- he'd *been* the good soldier, believed what they taught, internalized it until the military POV was so much a part of him he thought he'd been born with it.
Sure, he'd had to adapt it a bit when he'd left the service, but the allowances he made for others didn't mean he'd changed the standards for himself.
Until now.
This morning was the first time he'd said it out loud; in the bathroom, facing the mirror, right after wiping the last of the shaving cream from his face.
Staring down his fog-shrouded image, he'd listened absently, as he always did, to the comforting sounds of his roommate making breakfast. The occasional clink of glasses, the rattle of silverware, the soft under-the-breath humming that meant that, for Sandburg, -- and, so, to Ellison -- that all was right with the world today.
It hadn't been a lightning flash, or even a spark. Rather, a window had opened, in the back of his mind. It hadn't been locked for a long time and the curtains had pretty much been drawn since the first time the anthropologist saved his life...but this was the first time he let anything crawl through it.
"I'm in love with Sandburg." The words spilled from him and he'd met his own stare with mild astonishment.
It had melted as that sensation flowed through him, warming him, oozing into every nook and cranny of his psyche and finding nothing that rejected it.
"I love Blair." This time the words were said with reverence, even awe.
He'd never expected to feel anything like this, for anybody. The fact the this feeling was attached to a young, long-haired, many-ringed intellectual *man* wasn't anywhere near as important as the fact that he was *feeling* it.
Breakfast has been good this morning, but it hadn't been the eggs and bagels and juice. Even the most recent win by the Jags had nothing to do with it.
Jim Ellison was in love with Blair Sandburg. And it made him happier than anything in his life ever had.
Schooling his features to something a little less joyful, he marched into the captain's office and took his seat, prepared for the lecture he knew he was going to get.
He had good intentions, at least. He actually heard the initial verse of Simon's rant and responded appropriately, before his mind slipped away to that fairyland he'd been visiting all morning...
He'd been making a list, of things he wanted to do with Blair. Most of them were things they'd done before, but now he wanted to do them again ... as a couple. Okay, maybe *Blair* didn't know they were a couple, but he would soon enough. Jim was going to be subtle, discreet - and unmistakable. By the date he had set, exactly two weeks from today, Blair would definitely know how Jim felt now.
Simon snapped his mouth shut and frowned at Jim. /Ooops./ Jim tried to recall the question the captain must've asked, and couldn't *even*. All his unruly mind wanted to think of now was his plans for slowly seducing his roommate. /Busted./
"Were you even in the room, Ellison?" Simon leaned across the desk to ask in a quietly angry voice.
"Sorry, sir." Jim tried to look repentant, but visions of Sandburg's smile were making it --- and other things -- hard. "I've got something on my mind."
"*Somebody*, I'd wager." Simon sat back in his chair and picked up his coffee cup, taking a sip and looking Jim over. "It's about time *one* of you figured it out."
"HUH?" /Uh-oh./ Jim straightened and pulled the stone face that had gotten him so far in the military.
Simon wasn't buying.
"I guess I always thought it would be Sandburg, but as long as one of you knows what's going on I can rest assured the situation will be resolved." Lifting the cup to his lips with one hand, Simon sipped and waited for Jim's reaction.
"Situation." Jim rolled the word around in his mouth, deciding if he liked the feel of it. "*Resolved*," he paused and gave Simon a searching look that the larger man met with a bland stare. "Are you partial to any particular *mode* of resolution, Captain?"
The coffee cup hid it, but Jim could have sworn Simon grinned slightly before he answered.
"As long as both parties involved are *content* with said resolution, I'm happy" he said. Then he glared, hard. "But I still want that Mateo paperwork on my desk before you leave, Ellison."
"Understood, sir." Jim stood, barely repressing an ecstatic grin. "*Understood*."
It was almost more than he could stand. When Sandburg burst through the door, keys going one way, backpack another, and bounced into the loft like he was walking on a trampoline, Jim almost lost it right there. The urge to sweep him into his arms, carry him up the stairs and declare his undying love...really, it was an urge to *all* those things, all at *once*...he fought it down with military discipline.
"Hey, Chief." He managed to keep it out of his voice. All but a tiny bit, and if Blair noticed the change he didn't give any sign of it. "I ordered Indian. It should be here in fifteen minutes or so. And I was bored, so I stopped off and rented a movie."
Landing in a crouch near the TV, Blair shuffled through the pile of videos.
"Jim? What is this? An improvement package?" He stared up at his big friend, still sitting on the couch. Holding up a couple of the movies, one in each hand, he cracked a huge grin. "I mean, *come on*, Jim. Shakespeare?"
/You *come* on./ Jim's grin spread across his face. "I can't like Shakespeare, Chief?" he sounded hurt. "I got a couple of action flicks, too."
Ignoring him, Blair read the titles of the movies he was holding. "'Much Ado About Nothing' and 'A Midsummer's Night's Dream'."
Still grinning at Blair's portrayed bafflement, Jim rose and went to get him a beer. This was step one; making Blair see him a little differently. He'd actually seen both of those onstage with Carolyn, and sortof liked them. With Blair's company he was sure they would improve.
"So which one do you want to watch first?" He handed Blair the open beer, swallowing hard when the younger man ran his tongue around the top before taking a gulp.
"Much Ado. I've always liked Emma Thompson." Sitting beside him, Blair sat back while Jim started the tape and turned down the lights.
"My eyes have been a little sensitive today" he said, answering Blair's inquiring glance. "Nothing you need to worry about. Just a holdover from that headache I had yesterday, I'm sure. If it doesn't get better I'll tell you."
Obviously biting back a response, Blair nodded and fidgeted further into the couch cushions
When the food arrived Blair complained mildly about the dimness. Then he went and got a handful of small candles from his room, and set then around the coffee table, lighting them.
"I'll bet these don't bother you as much as artificial light." he said, looking bashful when Jim smothered a smile.
"No, they don't." Leaning slightly to reach the box of tandori chicken, Jim made sure that his arm pressed into Blair's, and deliberately fumbled the food to draw the contact out as long as possible. Then he listened, and was gratified to hear the slight quickening of breath. Sandburg *was* aware of him, he was sure of it.
By the end of the movie Jim was stretched out along the couch, feet hanging over the end. His head was firmly against Blair's leg. Every time the younger man scooted closer to the end to give him more room, Jim waited a little while and then followed, keeping the contact as constant as he could.
The movie was really funny. He was surprised to find that he more than liked it, he really *enjoyed* it, and not just because of Blair's laughter above him. It was fast and furious and funny.
Maybe he'd even think of Shakespeare differently now. The thought drew him up, off the couch and to the balcony, where he could stare into the dark water.
/This will make me different. Make *us* different./ his eyes picked out minute shapes of flotsam in the ripples of the bay. /Do I have the right to do that to him?/
Blair gave him a few minutes to think, and then came and stood behind him. Jim felt his body heat increase as he stopped, only a few inches between them, and spoke quietly.
"Jim? You okay, man?" and Jim turned.
Blair's sapphire blue eyes met his electric ones and Jim saw -- he *saw*! -- the spark that arced through the air that separated them.
"Yeah, Chief. I'm great."
"Sure you are, Jim." Leaving his words to hang in that same air, Blair went to his room.
Jim stood on the balcony, listening to him undress and climb into bed naked, heard the ruffle of pages as a magazine was opened, and pondered Blair's words. There had been a hint of laughter to them, an - oneness?
/Am I just imagining it? Seeing proof where there isn't any?/
Jim shook his head and smiled into the sky. /Nah./
Well, not much, actually. He had to be in court all day and Blair would be at the university before he joined Jim in court, and then there was all that paperwork they had to catch up on... so there wouldn't be much time to talk.
But that didn't mean Day Two would go to waste.
Blair was fidgeting again. On his left, Jim sighed silently and stifled a groan. On his right Simon looked over the smaller man's curly head and sought Jim's eyes.
They glanced up and caught his. Reading the message there, understanding the little quirk at the corner of Simon's mouth, Jim risked a quick grin and then looked down at his discreetly wriggling partner.
/This could be fun./
They were at the end of the row in the packed courtroom, Simon right by the aisle. With deliberate nonchalance, Jim scooted fractionally closer to Blair, which pressed them together from waist to knee.
He heard the rush of air as Blair gasped, and stared straight ahead. The younger man leaned forward, as if to look around him and, perhaps, complain to the large man sitting at Jim's left, but Jim leaned at the same time, with a brief frown, and scooted even closer.
Now Blair's heart was racing. Wanting to jump with joy, instead Jim found himself forced to sit as still as he could. If he disrupted this trial *this* judge would be unforgiving.
Over the next three hours Jim moved closer to Blair three more times, until he was practically in the younger man's lap. At first Blair pressed closer to Simon, but a low grunt and not-so-judicious shove put him even closer to Jim and he didn't try it again.
In the truck, on the way home that night, after the hours of paperwork and delivered subs for dinner, Jim apologized breezily.
"I don't know what that guy had for lunch, Chief, but it was *killing* me. I swear, I was beginning to wonder if there really was such a thing as fresh air."
Blair just gave him a look -- *that* look -- and rolled his eyes.
"Sure you were, Jim."
Day Four had Blair squirming as Jim worked out with free weights while he tried to work at the loft.
On Day Five Jim got a little daring.
When Blair got to the office there was a vase of flowers waiting for him; blue carnations that filled the air around the desk with their sweet scent.
"So who's got the hots for you this time, Big Guy?" Jim quelled a tiny shiver the nickname brought -- Blair didn't use it very often.
"Nobody as far as I know, Chief." He shrugged perfectly. "Those came for you."
Keeping his eyes carefully trained on the computer screen, Jim listened as Blair opened the card with amusing haste.
"It's blank." He turned wide eyes on Jim, who shrugged. "A secret admirer," he suggested.
Blair flopped into his chair, backpack ont he floor, the finely-drawn fingers of one hand delicately stroking the velvet- soft petals. Jim breathed a prayer of thanks; he'd just gone to the men's room and shouldn't have to stand up again for at least an hour. Which was a good thing, because this erection would completely give the game away.
"C'mon, man. Who're they from?!" Blair suddenly leaned close to him and Jim jerked slightly, as his senses filled with the earthy scent of the younger man.
"I don't know anymore than you do, Chief." With an effort Jim resisted the urge to pull his partner close and bury himself in that hair, turning instead to rifle a pile of folders and come up with one he needed to read *now*.
For his part, Blair gave him an appraising glance and pulled out a textbook, settling his glasses on his nose.
"Sure you do, Jim." he said, so softly no one but a Sentinel could have heard it.
"Goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get married. Goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get ma-ar-ar-ried...." seeming unaware of the words he was crooning, Blair turned to serve Jim his quick french toast, and stopped at the look on Jim's face.
Seeing the startled expression on Blair's open features, Jim blinked and switched rapidly to poker-face. Blair blinked in response and took his seat.
"I was thinking we could go to the park tonight, Chief." Jim said. "The symphony is playing Vivaldi. I'll pick up a picnic basket at the Broadway cafe."
Caught with a piece of toast, dripping spiced honey, halfway to his mouth, Blair stared, mouth still open.
"Unless you want some protein with that, you'd better close up." Jim folded a triangle of toast over once, then again, then stabbed the pleated bundle and deposited it neatly in his own mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
"Protein?" Blair babbled.
"From the flies, Chief. That you're gonna catch." Jim ate another piece and drained half his juice before Blair managed to get his bite to his mouth. While he chewed it absently Jim stood, his own plate empty, and finished his juice. "I've gotta get. Maybe I'll have an actual case today and I can put the rest of the paperwork off. I'll pick you up at your office at seven, okay?"
He was out the door before Blair had a chance to reply.
Knowing that Blair's late office hours often ran over, Jim decided to order the basket ahead and pick it up on the way. When he got to Hargrove Hall, he saw the line of students waiting to talk to his partner and grinned, brushing past them and heading for the coffee pot.
Blair glanced up from his desk, where he was huddled over a book with a pretty young brunette thing, and gave him a wary grin.
"Hey, Jim. I should be done here within the hour."
"I can wait."
Taking the chair closest to the desk -- the one Blair kept cleared off for *him* -- Jim sipped his coffee and tuned in to the conversations on the short line outside the door.
"So that was Sandburg's cop? Are they an item?" a male voice.
"I don't think so. He went out with my roommate a few times and she said he's *definitely* not gay." Female.
"Bi, maybe?" another girl asked.
"He's a *cop*." The first girl sounded exasperated.
"Hey, Sandburg is cute enough to get *me* to think about it." The guy went for laughs and got them.
Allowing himself a small smile, Jim sipped his coffee and entertained himself with Blair's scent and nearness and the things he planned to do to his young partner as soon as he had the chance.
A blanket, a picnic, and a cloud of stars above them. Stars that seemed to dance to the soaring strains of the music, performed with light and magic by the Cascade City Symphony. For once it wasn't raining and the night was pleasantly cool to Jim, lying back, hands under his head, content.
Beside him, sitting cross-legged, elbows on knees and a frown on his face, Blair shivered.
"You cold, Chief?" Jim sat up instantly. The concert was only half over -- he didn't want to leave if they didn't have to.
"Is this Cascade?" Blair didn't even look at his as he muttered the rhetorical answer.
Unhappy with this turn of events, Jim suddenly saw how he could turn it to his advantage. Although Blair was wearing his coat and probably -- knowing him, Jim couldn't suppress a grin -- at least two shirts under it -- Jim could always...
Unzipping his own jacket, Jim peeled out of his heavy sweater, ignored by those around them, and held it out to his friend.
"No reason to miss the rest of the performance." he said quietly.
Blair stared at the sweater for a minute, then a minute more. Just when Jim was beginning to think he'd made a bad move, Blair took his coat off and accepted the offering, pulling it on over his own and putting the coat back on over it.
This time, when Jim lay back to watch the stars and let his mind drift on the music, Blair lay beside him. In identical poses, elbows barely touching, they lay together until the music stopped.
The ride home was quieter than Jim could ever remember it being. Even after Lash, after the elevator fiasco, Blair had always had something to say, or had muttered to himself or fidgeted or *something*.
But tonight his quiet seemed to run soul deep.
In the living room, standing behind the couch so many of Jim's fantasies had been born on, Blair gave him a long look.
Jim returned it, finally allowing just a taste of his hunger shine from his eyes.
"Long day tomorrow." Blair said.
"Back in court all day for me." Jim agreed. "I'm wiped. Gonna crash now."
"So am I." Jim answered softly. He watched Blair turn and get into his room before he went to the stairs. Just as his foot hit the first one he heard the whisper.
"Sure you are, Jim."
The tingle that ran through him made his knees so weak that he almost stumbled, but he caught himself and made it up to collapse on his bed, to sleep deeply and dream of his friend becoming his lover.
One more day now.
Jim got up late, to find Blair already gone, knowing the anthropologist had to work on a lecture before this morning's class.
He wanted to shout the words, to dance, but those things didn't come readily to him, so instead he just smiled goofily as he dressed and ate and left.
Day Seven. He was thinking of it like that still, when it was really a more important day. The important day. And after the last six days he was sure now that Blair would agree with him.
"What?" he barked at Simon when the captain gave him the assignment. "I have to do *what*?!" He'd just gotten out of the courthouse, it was past six and he wanted to get home and start getting things ready before Blair showed up...
"Replace Brown on the stakeout. He's in bed with the flu and you're the only one I've got free."
"But....but...*but*..." Jim spluttered. "Simon! I've got *plans* for tonight."
"Plans?" Simon looked baffled for a minute, then Jim gave a little shrug. "Oh! *Plans*."
"This is the day, Simon. It has to be today." "What's so important about today?" Following Jim's eyes, Simon's settled on the calendar on his wall and his face paled slightly. "Has it already been a year?" he asked, mostly to himself.
"That's why it has to be today, Simon." Jim tried to keep the begging tone out of his voice, and was nearly successful.
"I'll trade it round." Simon sat behind the desk, shaking his head ruefully. "You take the swing shift and I'll make Ryf pull the graveyard."
"Thank you, *Sir*!" Jim scarcely restrained the shout on the last word, but Simon's grin was worth it.
"But that means you have to get there *now*." he stressed. Jim was headed for the door before he had the chance to say another word.
"Damn him." Jim snarled to himself as he pulled the truck into it's parking space. Ryf had been almost four hours late to the stakeout, delayed by a holdup he stumbled across. Now it was well past three a.m. and the day was gone.
*The* day was gone.
/Well, it must still be the right day somewhere./ Jim reasoned. /I can work with that./
As long as Blair was still awake....
The lights were on low and his roommate was on the couch, scribbling half-heartedly over a yellow legal pad. He looked up when Jim came in.
"Hey. I was wondering. Might've worried a bit, but figured Simon would call if anything happened."
Dropping his keys in the basket, Jim smiled slightly. The memory flooded back to him. He went to the kitchen and got a beer. As if he remembered the script, Blair went to the other side and accepted one from his hand.
They opened them.
"Simon would have called." he told Blair with quiet assurance.
"I know." their eyes locked and then slid away. Too much emotion to read there, now.
With a nod, Jim walked to the balcony and pushed through the doors, going to stand before the rail. Blair came to stand beside him.
"Time to enjoy being home again." Jim said with a sigh. "Yeah." Blair was looking out at the water and not at him. "You know what today is."
"The day we got back from Peru."
"The day you told me you were staying." "The day I told you it was about friendship." Slowly Blair half-turned and looked up to meet Jim's eyes.
"Yes. And it's the day that I tell you." Blair was very still while Jim reached out his empty hand and filled it with a fistful of soft brown curls, pressing them close to a neck where the pulse beat frantically.
"That it's not about friendship. It's about love." He held up his untasted bottle. Eyes wide with disbelief ... and something that resembled worship ... Blair raised his own bottle and they clinked together.
They both drank. Now they were watching each other openly, light-and-dark, shades of the ocean, drinking each other in as they finished their drinks.
Then Blair's bottle dropped from his nerveless fingers and Jim released his hair to catch it and they both laughed, hushed.
Setting the empties on the floor, Jim drew his former partner into a tender embrace, reveling in this first taste of this slender body pressed so firmly, so willingly against his own.
"It's late," he whispered into a nearly-pointed ear, hearing the inaudible chiming of the silver hoops when Blair tilted his head to offer him access to his throat. "I think we should be getting to bed."
"Sure you do, Jim."