Archive of Our Own ^beta

He was fifty miles outside of Cascade before he realised that it was nearly dawn. The truck rolled to a stop at the next overlook, and Jim Ellison stepped out into the freezing February morning, letting himself feel every prick and eddy of the winter winds.

Your punishment, he told himself, the voice in his head far colder than the air around him.

What was he going to do now?

You should have just gone into his room and told him, Jimmy. If this guy he's fucking was so important to him, then why did he come home at all last night? Maybe you've just made *another* of the biggest mistakes of your life, and he's sitting at home waiting for you, wondering where the hell you disappeared to.

"Or maybe he just doesn't give a shit." It needed to be said aloud. He needed to remind himself that his own feelings were only half of this equation. He could love Blair enough to die from it, but if Blair didn't feel that way, then what was the point?

And if he does...?

The sun was just cresting over the mountains as Jim climbed back into his truck and headed home, driving like a bat out of Hell.

He didn't even try to think about what would happen when he got there.

Blair was awake with the sun. Awake, and suddenly very worried. As angry as he had been last night, he *had* bothered to notice that the truck was in the garage. But he woke to a silent loft, with his partner nowhere to be found.

Perfect, Sandburg, he bitched to himself. You come home without even bothering to *shower* first, and Jim probably woke up and freaked. Just the thing a military-type, straight-arrow cop needs to find out... He's living with a fairy.

He looked in vain for some sort of note that Jim might have left. Something short, to the point, like "Get out before I come back, or I'll throw you out myself."

Finding nothing, he heaved a put-upon sigh and headed for the shower. If Jim was already gone, then he wouldn't mind Blair using up all the hot water one last time, before he left.

Jim held the bag of muffins nervously in his hand as he mounted the stairs. He felt like a teenager. He felt like an *idiot*...

But he was going to put his feelings out in the open if it killed him. And he knew that, depending on Blair's response, it very well might.

He listened carefully at the door, hearing the soft scratching of a razor against stubble. Blair must have gotten up early. Maybe last night wasn't as much of a party as Jim had assumed. The kid slept very little, but getting up at six after coming home at *four*?

Blair jumped when he heard the door close. Shit. The moment of truth is upon us, my friends. Time to face the funeral dirge.

"Hey, Chief?"

Well, Jim *sounded* pretty normal... Maybe a little nervous, but--

"Yeah, Jim," he called as casually as he could, wiping the remains of the shaving foam from his face. At least he'd be neat and trim for his execution. "Where'd you take off to so early?"

Jim was standing by the kitchen table, and he gestured nervously to the bag before him. "I took a drive. Came back with muffins, though."

Blair stooped in the hallway, shaking his head in confusion. Okay, who switched over to *The Twilight Zone* and didn't tell me? "Um... Great. There's coffee."

"Good."

Dead silence for at least a minute. Dead, nerve-wracking, vein-bleeding silence.

When Jim moved toward the kitchen, Blair tried to keep himself from jumping, unsurprised when Jim noticed. The dectective cleared his throat nervously.

"Listen, Chief... I wanted to say something..."

That silence was getting *deafening*!

"Yeah?"

"I... should have said this a long time ago, but..." His laugh, cold and self-deprecating, sent a chill down his partner's spine. "Well, ask Carolyn. I always sucked at these things."

*Ask Carolyn*...? Right.

"Jim, I know--"

Jim raised a hand for quiet, and received an amazing dose of the stuff. "Just listen for a second. I'm sure you're going to have a lot to say by the time I'm done." He took a deep breath. "Sandburg, I think that... I've noticed something bothering you in the last few weeks."

"No, Jim," Blair blurted out nervously. "No, man, I'm fine--"

"Please?"

There was a pleading in that voice. A pleading that Blair wanted to name, and knew he'd be damned if he did.

"I just... A couple of weeks ago, you said that you were afraid you'd never find the perfect person for you. And... And I've been afraid of the same thing forever. I thought Carolyn was it... But maybe I wasn't the perfect person for her..."

Jim's words fell off again, and Blair held his breath, knowing that if Jim didn't say the words he *thought* he was going to say, his heart was going to break right here.

The detective took a long, deep breath, closed his eyes, and suddenly snapped them open again, locking on to Blair's for dear life.

Moment of Truth, Jimmy.

"I think I've found that person... I just want to know if you feel the same way."

It was a tense few moments before Blair could breathe again, and the air caught in a sob as he did. Oh God...

"Jim..." He took another breath, wondering at the sudden lively bite in the air he was breathing. Hadn't it all been just so much rank wind, just a few moments ago? "I've wanted to tell you--I've wanted to hear that for *so* long." His eyes fell in embarassment. "I just thought..."

Jim smiled, walking over to his partner, and taking hold of his shoulders gently, feeling freer that he'd ever have believed. "I think both of us were thinking too much, Chief."

Blair's arms came around him, as the smaller man reached his mouth up to meet Jim's. The kiss was sweet, and warm, and needier than either one of them could ignore. It was just past daybreak, Jim thought hungrily.

There was plenty of time.

Blair surrendered himself to the feeling of Jim's tongue at his nipple, gave in to the smooth skin that his own hands explored on his partner's chest. God! Not a phantom, not a dream...

Just Jim, solid and hard and loving...

He almost came as his partner moved down his stomach, soft lips running over rough hair, hardening a cock that had never had what it had wanted for *so* long. Wait, Blair, he counseled himself firmly, his hands gripping Jim's solid shoulders, willing his mind to believe that this, finally, was real.

Wait...

Jim's mouth moved slowly back to his own, and Blair explored the undiscovered territory blindly, trying to memorize each and every nuance, knowing that everything would be new again the next time. His parnter groped in the bedside table's drawer with one hand, his other one busily exploring the feeling of Blair's sac.

"Jim... Oh, God!" Blair reigned himself in again. "I want you... I want you to..."

"Soon, Lover," Jim whispered, the word on his lips finally melting something in his partner's heart. Lover.

Jim's Lover.

*Jim's.*

A single finger was less than Blair needed, and he groaned hungrily under Jim's tight body, begging for more. He was ready. He was *so* ready. He wanted Jim inside him, wanted to come with him, show him just how much he loved him.

That hard cock, more gentle than any he'd ever felt before, was suddenly inside him, and Blair knew, as his lover's strong hand wrapped skillfully around Blair's own throbbing member, that he would never need to worry about being "just someone" to his partner again.

Jim moved slowly, trying to draw the moment out. He wanted Blair to know what it had felt like in his dreams, wanted the younger man to feel every moment of hunger that had plagued the Sentinel for God knew how long now.

Months... Years, maybe...

Maybe, somehow, since before they'd even met.

As he entered his partner, feeling the white hot ring of muscle surround him solidly, Jim knew that he had finally found his version of "perfect". Perfect was feeling Blair Sandburg move beneath him. Perfect was holding *this* lover's cock in his hand when he came...

Perfect was so much more than his dreams had ever hinted that it would be...

Months of need on both sides made that first time run past too quickly, a clumsy timing that came from the fact that they knew each other too well, and didn't know each other at all. As Jim dropped down beside him, Blair suddenly felt the warmth of *real* arms around him, as his partner, his *lover* wrapped him in an embrace that Blair realised now never had to end.

He was home, finally. He was home, and awake from the nightmare-dream that his life had been for months. He could look at Jim now and know that he belonged to him...

And both of them could finally stop dreaming.

Here's the part of Suzanne Vega's song that got me:

Now the time had come to speak,
I was not able.
And water from a rusted pipe
could make the sense that I do...

Gurgle and mutter hiss,
Sputter moan, words like water,
rush and foam and choke

Having waited this long of a winter,
I find I only croak
and sigh...

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