Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/3281

Continued from part three.

"Where's your other half?" Ryf asked as he passed Jim's desk.

"Brown stick you with the paperwork again?" Jim responded, ignoring the question about Blair.

"I could've sworn I passed Walker's van on the way in."

"Sandburg left," Jim stated flatly, not looking up from his work.

"His rental car's still in the garage," Ryf said, a definite note of concern in his voice.

"Are you sure it was Walker's van?" Jim gave Ryf his full attention now.

"Not positive, no. It was a dark blue panel job, no customizing. I don't see many of those around, and I know Walker used it for his undercover stuff--especially when he was playing pimp. Frankly, I think he used to sample the merchandise in the back of it."

"Shit," Jim got up and rushed into Simon's office, startling the captain, who was just putting on his coat to leave for the night. "I need an APB on Walker's van. He's got Blair," Jim blurted. He didn't realize Ryf was right behind him.

"I don't know that for sure, Captain," Ryf said to Simon's stunned expression.

"Blair left quite a while ago, but his car's still in the garage, and Ryf just spotted Walker's van on his way in."

"I think it was Walker's van."

"If he's got Blair, we don't have time to screw around. We need that APB now before they get where they're going!"

"All right." Simon went to the phone and called in the APB on Walker's van, as well as a separate APB on Blair. "Meanwhile, I want you to get a group organized and search every inch of this building for Sandburg. He could have stopped off anywhere, and I want to cancel those bulletins before I look like an idiot in front of the Chief."

"Right, sir," Jim responded, heading out the door with Ryf close behind him.

"I'll get everybody mobilized to look for Blair if you want to hit the street," Ryf offered. Jim nodded gratefully, and snatching his coat off the hook, ran for the door.

When the van finally came to a stop, Blair opened his eyes.

"Whrrwe?" he fought to mumble over the gag.

"You'll see." Patterson opened the back door as Walker and Hooper came around the van to meet them.

They hustled their still-gagged hostage along with them, across well-worn cement to the back door of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse near the waterfront. They made their way across the large main floor of the building, to a locked steel door. Walker produced the key, dangling it with a glint in his eye toward Blair. Then, he unlocked the door and led the way downstairs.

Blair could hear music and voices. It sounded like a sedate party was going on somewhere in the bowels of this giant barn of a building.

"Julian!" Walker yelled, then waved at the tall, dark figure who met them in the concrete hallway. "Brought you a party favor."

"You're the last person I expected to see," the dark-haired man commented. Dressed in black from head to toe, he conjured the mental image of a well-dressed, polished Satan. "And who have we here?" He reached toward Blair, who ducked as far back as he could to avoid the hand that traced his cheek lightly.

"Friday nights are boys' nights, aren't they?" Walker chortled. "Figured your customers might appreciate this one. He's not exactly willing, but we know he's experienced."

"I've seen you before," Julian addressed Blair directly, reaching over and yanking off the gag. Blair swallowed a time or two, and finally licked his lips to keep them from cracking. "Where do I know you from? And don't lie to me, because that will be a hell of a lot less pleasant than leveling with me."

"I'm a police observer," Blair volunteered, recognizing that there was some truth in Corman's warning.

"Ellison's whore is what he is," Hooper spoke up, swatting Blair on the rear end. "We thought you could use a nice little piece of ass like this tonight. Plus, you've gotta love the irony."

"You brought me a cop's boyfriend? Are you fucking crazy?" Corman bellowed.

"It's not like he'll be leaving to tell anyone," Walker added.

"I think you're a little mixed up here, Walker," Corman jabbed a finger into the other man's chest. "You're not running this show. I don't kill people on your say so."

"Look, this little bastard is the reason we're all on suspension. If you don't think losing three Vice cops from the Cascade PD is bad for your business, you're sadly mistaken. They're getting closer to you everyday, man. And we're not there to run interference."

"You know, it's a funny thing how I managed to run this operation all by myself all these years without your guidance," Julian retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Until I met up with the three of you, I didn't have corpses piling up around my ears. They're bad for business."

"Maria was spilling major shit to the cops, Corman," Patterson spoke up. "If we hadn't been the ones she was spilling to, you'd be in lock-up as we speak." He grabbed a handful of Blair's hair and yanked his head back. "And as soon as you help us get rid of this little fucker, we'll be back in business."

"So I'm supposed to take responsibility because you three can't keep your tempers under control? No. You made your own mess with him. He's your problem."

"You can make a body disappear when you don't want it traced, and you know it." Walked stood back smugly.

"You know, I ought to kill all four of you. You three crazy assholes bring a cop's boyfriend into my private operation, spout off incriminating information in front of him--shit, you know damn well I can't let him out of here alive now."

"Well, then killing him is in our common best interest. With him gone, there's not much chance we'll permanently lose our jobs. It's his testimony that's the problem. And, of course, we could use a little character defamation assistance."

"Meaning what?" Corman pinned Walker with a suspicious glare.

"Since we have to dispose of him, you might as well get the mileage off him. How much do you suppose your...more eccentric customers would pay for a stint with one they could have their way with--no holds barred on damaging the goods?" Walker lifted an eyebrow. "Here's the set up. We spotted Sandburg pleasuring a paying customer and when we confronted him in the john with that accusation, tempers flared. It isn't our fault if his last trick got a little too rough with him. You do have a couple of customers who like it rough, don't you?"

"More than a couple," Corman responded, mulling over Walker's idea, sweeping Blair up and down with his eyes. The younger man fought with all he had to maintain some degree of composure in his features. He wanted to scream and plead for his life, but he knew that was pointless. Dignity was the only thing he could still keep.

"He'll fight, be a screamer--just what they want. Plus, you don't have to warn them about not damaging the merchandise. Think about the ticket you can charge for that privilege."

"I have a couple of connoisseurs here tonight. Probably get $500 a piece for no-holds-barred."

"He's pretty strong. He'll probably last through three, anyway," Hooper suggested, smiling at the horrified expression on Blair's face. The younger man had fallen silent, standing there in handcuffs, Patterson and Hooper keeping a firm hold on his arms. The atrocities they were suggesting were too horrendous for his mind to process. He just stood there and hoped he'd pass out before it got too extreme.

"I don't exactly take snapshots of my customers for my memory book. How do you propose to get evidence of this second life?"

"Get one of your other boys to do something with him we can photograph. After that, I don't care what the hell you do with him, as long as he disappears." Walker crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Corman's reaction. The other man looked back at Blair, and then nodded.

"Take him in the other room. Make sure he can't get away. The last thing I need is to have one of my clients roughed up by one of my whores." Corman turned and walked briskly back toward the source of the music and voices, which was a considerable distance down the hall from where they stood.

Jim had cruised every street surrounding the precinct, and now was moving outward in a ripple effect. Other units had been dispatched to the three men's homes, and none of the former Vice cops had been there. All of them were out, and Walker had left in his dark blue van, according to his live-in girlfriend.

The radio crackled to life again, and Jim answered the call.

"We've been through every inch of headquarters. No sign of Blair," Simon's voice came over the radio. "Jim, we found his car keys under his car. This isn't looking good."

"No shit." Jim rolled his eyes at his own sharp retort. "Sorry, Simon. I just...is there any word from the APBs?"

"Nothing yet. Where are you?"

"I'm just headed out toward the waterfront area now. I've been all around the immediate area, so I'm going to start turning up rocks to see if I can find the bastards in their element."

"Everyone's on it, Jim. All the units will be watching for Walker's van, or Sandburg. We'll find him."

"I'm sure we will, eventually. I just want to do it before those assholes spend a lot of time with him."

"Keep me posted."

"Will do." Jim broke the connection. He had to ignore the ache in his heart at the last contact he'd had with Blair. This was like something out of a bad melodrama. Of all the times they parted with whispered "I love yous", or kisses, or caresses, this time, they parted in anger, with Blair feeling like he'd just been swept under the rug again.

With a heavy heart and a feeling of despair at no sign of his missing partner, Jim headed for the waterfront district.

Blair shivered as he lay on the bed, his wrists still cuffed, though this time, they'd been fastened around the rails of the brass headboard. His glasses were gone, his hair had been let loose, and every piece of clothing removed.

He'd made their photo session as unpleasant as possible, realizing that if Corman was going to fetch a good price for him as some sadist's toy, he'd have to be in pristine, unmarred condition for the occasion. They'd finally settled for restraining him face down, with the other man on Blair's back, in a simulation of intercourse. He imagined that on film, it would be very realistic. In reality, the two men had spat out oaths at each other, and Corman's male prostitute was no more interested in being intimate with Blair than he was in being violated.

Now all that was left to do was wait. The humiliation of being stripped and tossed around like a piece of meat and then photographed was bad enough. Throughout that, however, Blair's mind had been preoccupied with what would happen to him when the party really started in this garish, overly ornate room in the basement of an old warehouse.

//Where do the perverts park their cars? Probably inside the warehouse somewhere. Could go up the freight elevator and all park upstairs...or all downstairs in the basement, for that matter...// Blair exhaled. Concentrating on the mundane was helping a little, but not much. He probably wouldn't have long to make his peace with the world. Once his ordeal started, he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts again until his death.

Death. He thought about passing through to the other side, and that thought alone didn't scare him. He believed in the possibility of reincarnation, and fervently hoped he had generated enough good karma to at least have a decent time of it on the next round. Leaving Jim would probably be for the best. His life would go back to normal, eventually. He knew Jim loved him, but he really loved his job and the respect of his peers just a little bit more. Once he recovered from losing Blair, he would have all that again, and he'd be all right.

Naomi. //Oh, Mom, I'm sorry. This is going to be hard as hell for you to hear about. For you to have to come here to bury me and find out that I spent my last moments in pain and violence. You'll blame Jim. I hope you don't. This really wasn't his fault. It just happened. It's hate and bigotry, greed, avarice, corruption... It started with homophobia, and ends with corrupt cops willing to kill to protect their territory and their lifestyles.//

//And most of all, I just want someone to come find me and get me out of here. Who am I kidding? I don't want to die. Good God, not like this!! I don't want to be hurt and violated and tortured...//

Blair realized that tears were trickling down his face now, and he had no way to dry them. The first customer who paid for his services would be treated to a real show, a dream come true for any sadist: a naked, bound, sobbing, terrified, pristine, unbruised victim. On that thought, the sobs only came louder and harder, and as he gave in to the terror and hopelessness of the situation, all he wanted to do was feel Jim's arms around him one last time...

"I got the van," Jim called into the radio. "It's Walker's. Behind the old Pennington Furniture warehouse on Wharf Street."

"Stay put. I'm sending back up units out now," Simon responded.

"I can't stay put, Simon. Just get that back up here ASAP. I'm going in after Blair." Without waiting for Simon's response, he turned off the radio and after checking his weapon, abandoned the police sedan he'd borrowed and slithered stealthily up to the van in question.

There were no heartbeats, no sounds of movement from within the vehicle. It was empty. Jim took a moment to calm himself, and take in his surroundings. From within the building somewhere, he could hear music, and voices. He made his way to the door, and was unsurprised to find it locked. He scanned the side of the building, opening up his vision to its fullest capacity. He detected a large hinged window which was not tightly closed, several yards down the building.

Within moments he found himself inside the warehouse, having utilized the window. He followed the sounds to a steel door, which was locked.

Hearing footsteps ascending from the level below, Jim ducked around the corner from the door and listened intently. Walker, Hooper and Patterson emerged, laughing and talking among themselves. There was no sign of Blair.

"Freeze!" Jim darted out of the shadows and the startled men froze in their tracks. "Hands up where I can see 'em! Now!" He waited while they complied, his superior night vision enabling him to monitor their movements carefully. Of course, as Jim fully suspected he would, Walker went for his gun figuring the darkness was giving him enough cover to do so.

Time moved in slow motion as Walker pulled the gun out of his belt and spun toward Jim, who fired as the other weapon was aimed at him. Walker crumpled to the ground, blood oozing from a hole in his chest, his gun clattering to the concrete.

"Where's Sandburg?!" Jim demanded, pointing the weapon at the other two, who were obediently keeping their hands in the air.

"Downstairs," Hooper blurted. Never one to be the hero, he wasn't about to argue with an armed, homicidal Ellison. Furthermore, Corman and all his troops were down there. Ellison would be roadkill before he ever got three steps down. He didn't know why Jim was grinning until the locked door to the warehouse burst open and police started pouring in. The back-up had arrived.

There were bullhorn shouts warning the warehouse occupants that they were surrounded, and then the commotion of several struggles and arrests outside. Jim flagged two uniforms over to handcuff Hooper and Patterson and haul them off, while a third officer checked Walker's vitals. Jim already knew the man was dead.

"Guess who just ran out the back door," Simon said, snickering as he joined Jim. "Corman, wearing nothing but a silk robe and a smile. Seems he's got a little pleasure palace in the basement."

"Blair's down there." Jim turned on the steel door and fired into the wooden frame until the area around the lock was shattered.

"We could have used this," Simon stated, holding up a key.

Jim barely acknowledged him as he led Simon and several uniformed cops down the stairs. A few well-dressed "clients" of Corman's were already being rounded up and hauled down the concrete corridor to a second entrance that must have been used as the "escape hatch" when the shooting had occurred upstairs and the cops showed up to surround the place.

"Blair! Sandburg!" Jim screamed at the top of his lungs. His hearing was on full alert, filtering out the sounds of the massive raid going on around him. He heard a soft, unmistakable sound that tore at his heart. Somewhere in that basement, Blair was crying. He obviously couldn't hear Jim calling to him. "This way!" Jim led Simon and two uniformed cops down to the large room where Julian had been holding his little "meet and greet" get together. It was sparsely decorated, but boasted that "warehouse chic" that was in at the moment. There was an elaborate stereo system, a bar, and a number of men and women who were being sorted out and questioned by the arriving police.

Jim followed the soft little sounds no one else could have heard until he reached a door on the far side of the room. It was locked, and though he knew Simon probably had a key for that too, he didn't care. He kicked the door in and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw.

Blair lay on the red velvet bedspread, naked and handcuffed to the headboard, but apparently unharmed. Jim yanked his coat off as he fled to his lover's side and covered him gently, leaning in to kiss his forehead before unlocking the cuffs with shaking hands.

"Baby, I'm here, it's okay," Jim whispered as the newly freed arms locked tightly around his neck. "Are you hurt, sweetheart?" Jim finally breathed for the first time when he felt the head against his shoulder shake a negative reply.

"They...left me here...so Corman...would...kill me," Blair choked out.

"It's over, baby. It's all over." Jim sat on the bed and held Blair in his arms, rocking him slowly and crooning little reassurances into his ear. At that moment, he didn't care if the Chief of Police showed up to watch. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm so damn sorry," Jim found his own control faltering and his voice shaking as he buried his face in Blair's hair.

Simon ushered the other officers back out of the room to assist in rounding up Corman's people and the few customers who hadn't made it out the back door--and into the waiting arms of several police units.

"I love you, mine," Blair whispered, trying to crawl into Jim's skin with him.

"You must be freezing, baby. Let go a minute."

"Don't want to."

"Blair, I want to put some clothes on you. Are your clothes here somewhere?"

"No. I don't know where they are."

"Okay. I'm going to put my sweater on you, and then I want you to slide your arms in the sleeves of the coat."

"My butt's cold," Blair complained honestly. Jim hugged him tighter a moment and kissed his hair.

"Okay. You can have the pants too." Jim luxuriated in just cuddling Blair a moment before releasing him and helping him get dressed.

When they emerged from the room, Blair in most of Jim's clothes, including the pants with the legs rolled up into cuffs at the bottom, and Jim emerged in a t-shirt and a neatly folded sheet fashioned into a wrap-around kilt of sorts, Simon laughed.

"Now I know it's love. Sandburg even got the pants away from you."

Leaving the scene hand in hand with Blair, Jim didn't really give a damn if he was wearing a tiara and a pink tutu. All he needed to feel complete was holding onto his hand tightly, healthy and alive.

After changing into some old gym clothes he had in the trunk of the rental car, Blair gave Jim his pants and sweater back, and Jim set about the task of filling out his preliminary report. Blair gave his statement with Jim at his side, effectively sealing Patterson's and Hooper's fates to stand trial for charges of conspiring to murder him.

He reluctantly shared the information about the photos they'd taken of him with one of Corman's people, and felt warmed to his soul when Jim reached over and took a hold of his hand for moral support. Right in front of God, the assistant DA, the stenographer and everybody.

"You doin' okay, Chief?" Jim asked the smaller man, who was dozing on and off in the passenger seat of the rental car.

"I've had better days, man." Blair sounded exhausted, and Jim didn't blame him.

"You'd tell me if Corman's guy touched you, right?"

"Yeah, I'd tell you. He wasn't any more excited about me than I was about him."

"Then he has no libido." Jim smiled as Blair chuckled at that conclusion. "Blair, I really meant what I said when I said I was sorry before. That wasn't just emotions talking. I really am sorry for what I said to you before...you left tonight."

"I know. I backed you into a corner. I don't mean to keep doing that. I love you, Jim. I'll always be with you no matter what you do or say, unless you throw me out." Blair looked out the passenger window. "And I wouldn't blame you if you did that. I've fucked everything up for you, and then I pouted because you didn't want me along on the Corman thing." Blair shook his head. "This whole homophobia thing, it's just so damned hard for me to accept."

"For me too, baby." Jim reached over and stroked Blair's hair. "You didn't mess anything up for me. We've been through this more than once before."

"Can you step on it a little? I just really want you to hold me for a while, and if I have to sit on this console, we won't be able to do anything worthwhile for about a month."

Jim laughed out loud and tugged on a curl playfully. And sped up considerably.

The moment they were inside the door of the loft, Jim descended on Blair's mouth, claiming it with both passion and tenderness. Blair melted into the kiss, arms coming up around Jim as the larger man slid a hand into his hair and kept the other powerful arm around his waist.

"I want you, baby, so bad," Jim finally breathed into his ear, then kissed it. "Want to be inside you." He felt the answering grind of Blair's arousal against his own. He lost no time in sweeping his lover off his feet and carrying him toward the bathroom. Blair seemed puzzled at the change of direction. "Shower together first, huh?" Jim smiled as the arms around his neck tightened, and Blair sighed against his neck.

They soaped and rinsed each other thoroughly, kissing and stroking one another lovingly. Both were committed to making love upstairs in their bed, so they turned their attentions to finishing their bathing activities. Jim always found it especially arousing when Blair would spread his legs and lean forward for Jim to make sure he was especially clean at his center. He was extra gentle and solicitous in doing this tonight, just thinking about what Blair had almost endured. Luckily, those thoughts didn't seem to be tormenting his lover too much.

Jim wrapped a towel around his waist and then set about drying Blair. He knew how badly frightened the other man had been earlier, and all he wanted to do now was take care of him.

With most of the water dried off, Jim bundled his lover up in the smaller of the two terry cloth robes that hung on the back of the door and started carefully toweling and then blowing dry the mop of curls. He had become proficient at caring for Blair's hair, remembering to work the conditioner into it in the shower, and then spritzing the detangler on it and running his fingers carefully through it as he dried it. Blair usually took care of his own grooming, obviously, and was faster and more proficient at it than Jim. At times like this, though, Jim thoroughly enjoyed pampering his lover, and taking all the right little pains with his hair was one good way to do that.

"You're the most beautiful man on earth," Jim announced, kneeling in front of where Blair sat on the small chair in the bathroom. The gentle hands Jim loved so much cupped his face now.

"Second most beautiful."

"Did we call it a tie once before?"

"Think so, yeah," Blair replied, smiling.

"Bad call. You're an angel, lover. Nobody I've ever seen on earth is as beautiful as you are."

"You trying to make me cry or something?" Blair grinned again, his voice a little shaky.

"Blair, we said the words when we were making love, in the privacy of our bedroom. And we were outed by accident, and I haven't made you feel very good about that, I know."

"Oh, lover, you've been great about everything. You've stood by me, taken on guys you used to be friends with...don't beat yourself up because you snapped at me one time." Blair stroked Jim's damp hair. "This has to be cold." Blair reached for the hair dryer and started working on Jim's hair. "I love handling your hair. It's so soft," Blair said with a warm smile.

"I said I didn't want to fight for your honor. God, Blair, what a damned awful thing to say to you. I love you with all my heart, and I'd fight to the death for you--please know that."

"I know. I love you so much, mine. I know you'd always take care of me. We had a fight. It was a nasty one, and some hurtful stuff was said, but when you're in love, that shit happens. Fortunately, people usually aren't kidnapped before it gets resolved." Blair turned off the dryer and grabbed a comb to arrange the hair in the right place. "There. Now we're both gorgeous. Oh, shit."

"What?"

"Does this mean we're turning into hair dressers?" Blair asked, a little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. The tension eased a little and both men laughed.

They picked up a chilled bottle of wine from the refrigerator along with two glasses and slowly climbed the stairs together. It had been an exhausting day, and by the time they were snuggled together under the covers, the most acrobatic thing they could manage was drinking some wine out of each other's glasses.

When Blair fell asleep on Jim's shoulder, he didn't try to rouse him with the little kisses and nibbles that would have started their lovemaking in earnest. Instead, he drew the blankets up protectively around the precious body in his arms and dozed off himself. Tomorrow was Saturday, and while there was paperwork to be done, Simon wouldn't expect them to be there at dawn. Plenty of time to sleep and make love, in the order Blair wanted.

Jim woke to a warm sensation on his left nipple. He drowsily noted the soft curls spilling over his chest, and then tuned in to the sensation. With a mouthful of wine, Blair was sucking his nipple, blending the flavor of Jim and the wine. When he finished with the first nub, he swallowed the wine and then looked up at Jim.

"I love the way you taste," he said huskily, the tone of his voice alone making Jim's sleeping desire come out of its drowsy haze quickly. "Gonna taste all of you." The mouth fastened on the second nipple, licking and sucking.

"What about the wine?" Jim breathed, grunting a little at the delightful stimulation.

"I like undistilled Jim better," Blair concluded, raising those full lips up from their devilish work on Jim's chest.

"Come on up here, baby." Jim pulled on Blair's shoulders gently until he slid back up and joined Jim to share lingering, gentle kisses.

Slow and gentle best described their lovemaking as they took turns licking, nibbling and kissing all the secret little spots only they could find on each other. When Jim had worked his way down to Blair's center, the smaller man opened himself willingly, groaning at the wet, delightful sensation of Jim making love to him with his tongue, licking and probing the little pucker thoroughly.

Jim finally groped in the bedside table and found the lube. He carefully and gently massaged and stretched Blair, tuning every sense to knowing when his lover was ready to receive him. When that moment came, he spread some of the gel on his own straining arousal and then slid carefully into the waiting heat. Blair shifted and groaned a little at the intrusion, but accepted him quite easily, wrapping strong legs around his back and pulling him in tight.

He carefully lowered more of his weight on Blair, starting a gentle thrusting as he leaned in for a prolonged kiss.

"Take me, Jim. Harder," Blair gasped. It was the first time Jim had heard such a request from his partner, and his passion-frenzied body obeyed it. Always mindful not to be too rough, he picked up the speed and force of his strokes, dragging long, low moans and occasional whimpers of ecstasy out of Blair, who gripped Jim's shoulders almost painfully and undulated in time with the larger man's movements. "God, Jim...so good...harder...more..." Blair let out a yell when his prostate was thoroughly stroked and massaged, Jim adjusting his angle to hit the little nub over and over, loving the way Blair's body spasmed in unabashed arousal each time he made contact. He added the firm pumping of his hand to Blair's already weeping cock.

Blair's muscles contracted, clamping down on Jim as the single, prolonged call of his name warning Jim just before Blair's seed gushed forth, bathing Jim's hand and spattering his own belly. Driven to the brink, Jim's final thrusts were short, rapid and sharp. He came with a cry of Blair's name, slumping on top of his lover, spent and sated. Blair adjusted the position of his legs a bit to accommodate a lethargic, post-sex Ellison, who essentially smothered him in warm, moist flesh.

"Blair...oh, God, sweetheart...that was...oh, God..." Jim couldn't find words, so he didn't try.

"I wanted to feel you deep inside. And I want to feel it tomorrow."

"You probably will, lover." Jim managed to kiss a nearby ear.

"My mouth's over here, Jim. That's right. A little more to the right," Blair joked.

"Smart ass," Jim covered Blair's mouth with his own, tongue slipping between the full lips, sliding lazily against Blair's until they pulled apart to breathe. "Did I hurt you?"

"Oh, man, it was intense. I never felt anything--wow. Yeah, it hurts a little, but I love the way it felt. And feels. I wanna remember you inside me all day tomorrow."

"As soon as we get those damned reports filed, I'd like to be inside you all day tomorrow."

"Wanna set up camp in there, eh, big guy?" Blair scratched at Jim's scalp gently.

"Or maybe reverse this little dance so I can find out what's so good about being fucked silly." Jim kissed Blair again, lingering after to nibble at his lips and lick at the full mouth that always made him want to do this, even in the middle of the bullpen.

"It's the intensity of watching you get it so good--seeing you cut loose and take what you want...I loved giving that to you. It's worth sitting on padded chairs only all day tomorrow," Blair added, grinning and blushing at the same time.

"Why did I get so lucky, huh?"

"You didn't get lucky, Jim. You're a wonderful person, and a wonderful partner. You've given me so much love...you and I, we made this love grow...we planted it and nurtured it and cared for it together...luck had nothing to do with it, mine. I didn't just suddenly wake up one day with a revelation that you were the lover of my dreams. You made me love you, giving me all the wonderful things you always had to give but nobody else has been smart enough to take." Blair smiled. "Of course, being the borderline genius I am, I spotted the opportunity." Blair was surprised to see tears in Jim's eyes.

"I never expected someone like you...I mean, you could have anybody...male or female..."

"You don't know how wonderful and lovable you are, do you? You don't know how gorgeous you are, or how that smile of yours turns me into jelly, or how much love you can show me just by looking at me. Or how good it feels to have you hold me and tell me everything's going to be okay, or how loved it makes me feel the way you want to make everything right for me even when you can't. And you could never know how much it means to feel how protective you are of me, or that I can't look at anything I like too long in the mall or you buy it for me. It's not the nearly massive CD collection I have now that makes that great," Blair was interrupted by a watery laugh from Jim. The other man knew he was guilty of spoiling Blair rotten any time they were in a retail environment. "It's not the stuff, man. It's the love behind it. Jim, you're like a dream, and being with you...the way you treat me...it's like a...like living a love song."

"Love you, sweetheart," was all Jim could manage, taking Blair tightly in his arms and losing the last control over his emotions. What Blair had said touched him so deeply that all he could do was cry in Blair's embrace, and marvel at how blessed he was.

Blair was positively glowing as he got behind the wheel of his restored Volvo. Jim had worked him over sufficiently to accept the repairs as an early Christmas present, and not to claim it on his insurance. Blair had enough problems making ends meet on his bills, which he insisted on paying himself the vast majority of the time. He was adamant that even though he and Jim were together, he could take care of himself. He did, however, concede a few things to Jim, because he knew there was a part of his lover that really wanted and needed to take care of someone, and to feel needed.

"I can't believe how great it looks! Man, it's beautiful!" Blair ran his hands over the steering wheel lovingly. Knowing how attached the younger man was to his classic car, Jim hadn't seen a point in telling him that the trunk, hood and doors weren't really the same. Ryf's uncle had done a remarkable job of rebuilding it, and Blair was happy as a clam. That was good enough for Jim.

"I've got another errand to run before we go home, so how about heading over toward Marshall Street, huh?"

"Sure." Blair started up the car and headed in that general direction. "Marshall...you buying me flowers again?" Blair teased, grinning. The biggest florist in town was on Marshall.

"That's a hell of an idea. I might do that too, while we're there."

"Jim, what's the big mystery?" Blair was smiling, but his brow was furrowed a little. If there was one thing Blair couldn't stand, it was being in the dark about something--even momentarily.

"Just do the driving, Chief. You'll find out."

Blair did as he was told, and when he turned the car toward the Marshall Street business district, Jim finally gave him some direction.

"Pull up right there in front of the furniture store."

"Furniture store?" Blair repeated, obeying the instruction. When he had parked and turned off the car, he turned in the seat to face Jim. "So what do we need in there? We know the bed we've got works great." He flexed his eyebrows over his glasses, and Jim couldn't help laughing. And leaning over to kiss those grinning lips.

"I didn't say I was going in the furniture store. I just said you should park here." Jim took off his seatbelt and opened his door. "C'mon, Chief, let's go."

"Go where?" Blair got out of the car and hurried around the hood, pleasantly surprised to see Jim's hand extended to him. He took it happily and walked along the sidewalk with Jim, enjoying the sunny, crisp November day as they made their way up to the corner store: Castle Jewelers. "Here?" Blair asked, surprised.

"Yup." Jim squeezed Blair's hand a little and let go of it to open the door and usher him inside.

"Pretty upscale stuff, man," Blair commented quietly, looking at the Rolex watches in the first case he encountered.

"May I help you?" A middle-aged man with receding brown hair spoke up from behind the counter. Clad in a dark blue suit, white shirt and tie, Jim was trying to decide if he looked more like a jeweler or an undertaker.

"We need to take a look at your wedding bands," Jim stated calmly. Blair's head snapped up from his inspection of the watch display.

"Right this way. Which one of you is the groom?" The man smiled, obviously assuming that there was a woman involved, and that one of the partners was there merely for moral support.

"How are we going to decide that, Chief? Coin toss?" Jim laughed a little at Blair's stunned expression. The younger man recovered quickly.

"Oh no. I am not wearing white lace, even for you, man."

Jim laughed then and slid an arm around Blair's shoulders.

"The rings are for us. Whatever they are, they have to match."

"This is our selection of wedding sets. Will you be wanting two men's rings, then?" the man asked as they occupied the two chairs opposite the case displaying the wedding sets.

"You don't get too many couples like us in here, I guess," Blair said, smiling.

"To be honest, sir, I believe you're the first." The man smiled politely.

"Jim, are you sure about this?" Blair looked at Jim hesitantly.

"Would you excuse us a moment?" Jim asked the salesman, who nodded and moved to a display of tennis bracelets to do some completely unnecessary straightening.

"I mean, this is pretty obvious."

"Blair, last night, when you were missing--"

"Jim, I lived. I'm okay. You don't have to do this because you feel guilty about our fight. You sure made it up to me last night...and this morning," Blair concluded, ducking his head with a little blush.

"And I found a jewelry store with padded chairs." Jim smiled as Blair turned completely crimson and laughed a little.

"I just mean that I don't need you to do something like this to feel married to you. I don't want to force you into big public displays you aren't comfortable with."

"You didn't let me finish before. When you were missing last night, I felt like I'd lost half my soul. All I could think about was how complete and whole and...and wonderful my life is when I have you with me. And all I kept seeing was the look in your eyes when I made that stupid remark about defending your honor. My God, Blair, I've been letting my job and a handful of bigoted bastards dictate my lifestyle. That's over. I know I can't get a marriage license with you, and we can't change our names to match...but we can make a promise, and we can wear rings and make it public. And then, when I take some of that backed up vacation over Christmas, we can fly to Hawaii and make it legal--at least there."

"What?" Blair's eyes widened.

"Hawaii allows same sex marriages, sweetheart. I want us to have that, along with as much legal paperwork as we can have tying us together here at home." Jim took both Blair's hands in his. "This isn't as romantic as it should be, I know but--" Blair pulled one hand free and covered Jim's lips with two fingers.

"This is probably the most romantic moment of my entire life, and I know the one that ends up topping this one will be with you too." Jim kissed the restraining fingers and took a hold of Blair's hand, gently moving it away from his mouth.

"I never asked you if you wanted to wear a ring--"

"You have to ask?" Blair countered, with a smile that turned into a little laugh. "Oh, man, this is the kind of thing I dreamed about but didn't figure would ever happen. This is, like, the most amazing thing that ever happened to me, man. Are you nuts? Of course I wanna wear your ring. I'll wear it through my nose if you want."

"As attractive as that would be," Jim began, laughing a little, "I had something a little more traditional in mind."

"I can do traditional." Blair noticed Jim's skeptical expression. "With you." That brought a warm smile.

"We're ready," Jim motioned to the salesman, who returned from his various busy work and began showing the two men a succession of men's wedding bands.

"I like this one," Blair was carefully examining an ornate band of gold detailed with rose and green gold grape leaves in its center. It was a substantial, masculine ring, but it had a beauty that was unique in a sea of plain gold bands.

"Let's have a look at it," Jim said, smiling as he took Blair's hand in his. "Is it your size?"

"Yeah. They have one in your size, too. Right there," Blair helpfully pointed out. Jim had a feeling they had just found their rings. He knew he'd never have the heart to dampen the enthusiasm on Blair's face, even if they were a little more ornate than what he would have chosen. He slid the ring on Blair's finger.

"You don't usually wear gold, Chief," Jim commented, checking out the appearance of the ring on Blair's hand. It looked like it belonged there...for a lifetime.

"That's why I want something like this. I've never had anything like it, and it'll look different that anything I've ever worn. Make it more special."

"I guess I better try one of these on then." He waited while Blair plucked one in Jim's size from the cushioned tray. Taking the larger hand in his, Blair slid the ring into place in Jim's finger.

"Wow," Blair breathed in a voice little above a whisper. "You like it?" He looked up hopefully at Jim.

"I love it." He smiled lovingly at Blair, then turned to the salesman. "We'll take these, and we want to wear them."

"Will that be a cash or charge today, sir?"

"Ah, char--"

"Jim, I've got an idea."

"What?"

"I'll buy yours and you buy mine."

"But they're--" It was on the tip of Jim's tongue to remind Blair that they were the same price, but there was a romance and a symbolism in the gesture that moved him deeply. "Is there a different code number or something on the sizes?" he asked the clerk.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Each size has a slightly different code for the computer, for inventory purposes."

"Then I'm buying his."

"And I'm buying his," Blair echoed, smiling.

If the salesman thought they were a little silly, he was polite enough not to show it. He merely smiled and took great pains to enter the right code number in for each transaction, selling Jim's ring to Blair and Blair's ring to Jim. The two men left with identical charge slips tucked in the their pockets.

The moment they stepped out of the store, Jim startled Blair by grabbing him around the waist, squeezing him in a tight embrace, lifting his feet off the ground and spinning them around twice. Right there on the sidewalk. Still holding Blair up so his feet didn't quite touch the cement, he descended on his lover's mouth for a prolonged kiss.

"I love you," he whispered, before letting Blair's feet rest on the ground again.

"I love you too, mine. They're beautiful," Blair whispered, examining his ring again, then grabbing Jim's hand so he could see them both at once.

"A matched set, baby. Just like us." Jim slid his arm around Blair's shoulders, and Blair's arm came around his waist. They started walking slowly toward the car, exchanging all the silly, mushy love words the occasion allowed...and making plans to celebrate properly at home.

Pamela Patterson was arrested shortly after her father's bail was revoked along with his surviving cohort, Hooper. Nicole Pierce was the only member of the original conspiracy to be cut a good deal. The DA had the evidence he needed, and plea bargains weren't being offered. Pamela's prints even matched one of the smeared partials from Blair's vandalized Volvo, and the girl finally admitted that she and her boyfriend had trashed the car at her father's urging.

Joseph Walker was laid to rest without the fanfare of an official funeral. Had he lived, Walker would have faced a trial on charges of kidnapping and conspiracy to commit first degree murder--a capital offense.

Julian Corman was sold out so many times over by his stable of hookers as well as his flustered customers that his conviction on charges of racketeering and prostitution were in the bag. Patterson and Hooper were quick to point fingers at Corman and the seedy ex-con he'd hired to kill Maria Burnette in hopes of bettering their own situations. Hooper revealed that Corman had the brake lines on Jim's truck cut, after he learned the detective was questioning the very ex-con that had been hired to kill Maria. Both men did manage to strike a deal with the DA to avoid the death penalty on the conspiracy charges, since nailing Corman for the second count of conspiracy to commit murder, plus the attempted murder of a cop, was an attractive concept.

Having been duly embarrassed by the unthinkable conduct of their colleagues, the detectives in the Vice division were more than pleased to accept the invitation of the detectives in the Major Crimes division for a joint celebration to mark the successful closure of the Corman investigation.

With a former Vice cop dead and two others facing murder charges, a wild party seemed tasteless. Surprisingly, it was Ed Miller who stepped forward to offer the use of his basement rec room for a "beer, burgers and football" get together on a chilly Sunday afternoon.

"I still don't know as this is such a great idea, Jim." Blair pulled on his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

"The only way we're going to ever find out if we can peacefully coexist at the PD is to do something like this. We were both invited."

"Like Ed Miller wants me in his house."

"He's probably afraid you'll beat him up again if he doesn't invite you," Jim quipped, slipping into his own coat.

"Very funny."

"Look, I'm done playing games with this. I thought you knew that." Jim took a hold of Blair's left hand and pulled it up to kiss the gold band on the third finger.

"I know, but--"

"And you haven't forgotten that we're going to Hawaii this winter to make these legally binding?" Jim held up their joined left hands which bore the rings.

"No, of course not, but still--"

"But still what? One thing Simon told me back right after your run in with Walker and company was true. When you make an inroad with bigotry, you have to keep pushing ahead, or you lose what little progress you've made, and you sure as hell don't go any further. I work with some jerks, but I also work with some good people. We have to find out yet who the scales are balanced in favor of. If it turns out to be the jerks, we'll pack up our stuff and move on. If not, well, we might be able to work this out."

"Sounds like a good reason to go," Blair responded, grinning.

"Do me a favor, though?"

"Sure, anything."

"Don't explain to the guys what football has to do with male aggression and testosterone levels?" Jim was serious, but Blair laughed.

"Got you on your back by half-time, didn't it?" Blair started out the door.

"You made that up?" Jim's menacing tone was the only warning Blair needed to break into a run down the hall to the stairs. "Sandburg! I'll get you for that one!" Jim vowed, locking up and racing downstairs hot on Blair's heels.

Corinne Miller greeted the guests at the door and directed them down to the rec room, where her husband was hosting his party. She was a pleasant woman in her early forties, with neatly styled short blonde hair and clear blue eyes. She was just as charming in greeting Jim and Blair as she had been in greeting Ryf and Brown, who walked in ahead of them.

Blair hoped he wasn't walking too close to Jim as they descended the stairs into a basement full of rowdy cops and the sounds of the pre-game show starting on the wide-screen TV. He half expected the whole thing to be a trap of some sort, hating himself for being so paranoid around a group who had, for the most part, not harassed him or Jim in any way.

"Hey, Ellison!" Kendall hollered. "Looks like the back up supplies are here!" He referred to the case of beer and three bags of chips that were Jim and Blair's contribution to the growing mountain of food and beverage piling up on a large, square coffee table in the middle of the grouping of well-worn but comfortable couches and chairs. "Sandburg--you giving any self-defense demonstrations at half-time?" Kendall added with a devilish grin.

"Shut up, asshole," Miller retorted, though in a surprisingly friendly tone, with the hint of a smile on his face.

"Only if somebody tries to steal my beer," Blair responded, sitting in the empty corner of a couch. Jim plunked down happily, close enough for Blair to feel a bit pressed between Jim's hip and the arm of the couch. Jim ran his arm along the back of the couch, but didn't make any move to ostentatiously touch his lover. Actually, looking back, Blair recalled another such gathering where Jim had done the same thing, long before they were lovers. It seemed like it was a natural protective instinct with Jim--to hover near Blair when they were in any environment that would be remotely unfriendly to the younger man.

There was a little further bantering, and a few war stories exchanged about the Corman investigation, before the pre-game programming ended and the game began.

Sitting there among half the detectives from Vice and just about all of Major Crimes, Blair didn't find himself ostracized or ignored in any way. When he finally relaxed enough to get into the game, he was cheering and yelling with the rest of the guys, passing snacks back and forth, engaging in some friendly arguments about the plays--in other words, he felt accepted. And in accepting him, again, as they had when he became Jim's partner, they were at least indicating a willingness to live and let live. There was a little chill in the air from a few of guys there, but the worst thing he was encountering was polite tolerance, and at the best, friendly acceptance. That was a range Blair could definitely handle.

Jim felt relaxed for the first time in weeks, there in the midst of his friends and colleagues, with his life partner safely positioned close at his side. He wondered if these guys had suspected them of being lovers before. Looking at the way he had hemmed Blair into the corner of the couch, he realized that the last time they'd been at a gathering of cops, he'd done the same thing. Blair had still be nervous around a big group of Jim's friends and co-workers back then, and they didn't really take him all that seriously. Jim had plunked himself down close to Blair at that Superbowl party like a pit bull guarding his territory.

Back then, they had been exchanging private comments and jokes between themselves, and when the beer ran out, Blair had shared his half-full bottle with Jim, passing it back and forth casually. Jim smiled a little when he thought of how intimate they had been in so many small ways for years now. Relaxing further back into the cushions, he reached over and seized a couple of pretzels out of the handful Blair was holding. He was rewarded with one of those big smiles that glowed with love. Life was good.

"Sandburg," a voice startled Blair as he re-entered the Miller house with the extra case of beer Jim had loaded in the trunk. No one was feeling any pain down in the rec room, but more "refreshments" were deemed necessary to make it through to the end of the game. Now, Ed Miller was confronting him in the kitchen, nodding toward a counter for Blair to set the beer there. "I owe you an apology."

"I kind of took it as that when I got invited along today. So, no hard feelings?" Blair extended his hand, and Miller shook it.

"I went through the academy with Joe Walker. He had a strong rep in our department--really, all through his career. He had an arrest record most of us would kill for. I found it very hard to accept that he wasn't all we thought he was."

"That's never easy, man. Accepting that a friend, somebody you respect...that they're totally different than you expected."

"The sick part of this is, half the guys downstairs knew what Walker and the others were up to with you in the restroom. We covered for them."

"Terrific," Blair responded, rolling his eyes a little.

"I think you should know why you were getting called 'Ellison's whore' all the time."

"I figured it was just because Jim and I were...you know, together."

"Walker specialized in working the worst of the waterfront porno scene. He busted hookers, pimps, perverts peddling kiddy porn out of back rooms of adult bookstores...the long and short of it is that he spent most of his time in the sewers. He claimed that he'd seen you at a couple of the more upscale adult clubs downtown, and that you were down there selling blow jobs for a pretty steep price. The story fit with the image of the struggling grad student making ends meet by...moonlighting a little. So when we heard that, the mental picture of you worming your way into living with Ellison, and then drawing him into...that kind of relationship...well, you get the picture."

"So everybody thought I was a paid male prostitute in my spare time, who was sponging off Jim--or paying for my room and board with services rendered?"

"More or less. And that you'd managed to con him somehow into a more serious relationship, maybe liking the lifestyle and stability of him supporting you."

"No wonder everybody wanted me strung up."

"Not everyone believed it. You've got some pretty loyal friends in this department, oddly enough. Captain Taggert threatened one of his guys with getting busted back to a foot patrol if he heard another word about it. But people who were friends with Joe, like me, believed it."

"You don't believe it now?"

"Not after what I found out about Joe's set-up with Corman. He was bird-dogging for him. Picking up new talent when he was supposed to be getting these kids off the street. Half Corman's underage stable came from Joe's recruiting efforts. We should've smelled a rat when he only delivered ugly ones to the halfway houses." Miller shook his head.

"How far were they going to take it that day in the restroom?" Blair asked, having wondered about that since it happened. What he had been most curious about, the anthropologist in him poking his head out again, was how much the guys who were covering for the three perpetrators were willing to go along with.

"Walker said he was going to teach you a lesson. We didn't ask what that entailed."

"I see," Blair nodded.

"I think I can speak for most of Vice when I say that Walker, Hooper and Patterson turned out to be real embarrassments to the department. Pushing around a 'male whore' in a bathroom is a hell of a lot less inconceivable than turning someone over to be tortured and murdered."

"Do the rest of the guys in Vice still think I was...you know, selling it?"

"I don't think they put a hell of a lot of stock in anything they heard from those three right now."

"For what it's worth, I was never with a man before Jim."

"Look, Sandburg, I want to bury the hatchet here. I don't want details."

"I just want it clear that I didn't pick Jim out so he could support me, and he isn't just another in a series. He was the first, the last, and the only, for the rest of my life."

"I can't understand what makes two men...the whole concept makes me want to go out and puke in the bushes. But so do some of the kinks that turn men and women on. What you and Ellison do behind closed doors is your own business, I guess that's my point. I wanted it to be clear that you aren't going to get your head stuck in the toilet again anytime soon."

"That's a relief," Blair responded, laughing a little. "I really understand what you're saying, man. And I appreciate you saying it. It couldn't have been easy. I don't expect everyone at the station to like me or to accept this relationship happily. I just want the peace of mind to come and go without somebody slamming me against my car or kicking my ass just because of who I love."

"Fair enough."

"So this is where the beer is," Ryf said as he came up the stairs from the basement. "Crowd's gettin' ugly."

"They didn't have far to go," Miller quipped, grabbing the case of beer.

"I heard that!" Jim shouted up from the basement. "Did you hear that guys?" And so the general, semi-drunken rowdiness went, until late into the evening.

"Oh...yeah...like that," Jim growled as Blair started picking up the pace of his strokes. The feel of the sweaty weight of Blair on his back and the hard cock thrusting in and out of him in an even tempo was fast growing on Jim. He could feel that silky hair skimming over his own overheated skin and Blair's forehead dropped just below his shoulder blades, the smaller man making all the little love noises that drove Jim wild.

"God, Jim, you're so...oh...so tight...ugh..."

"Faster, baby, come on. Oh, man! Give it to me good!" Jim spared the last shred of conscious thought to marvel that those words had just come out of his mouth. //Jim Ellison, the guy who thought anal sex was like having a telephone pole stuck up his ass, is begging for it...God, what you do to me, Sandburg...//

Feeling Blair hit his prostate, driving into the tight channel in hard thrusts, reaching under Jim to pump his own aching erection in rhythm with the motions... Jim screamed out Blair's name, and in some fog-enshrouded corner of his brain, comprehended that his spasms were milking Blair, driving him over the edge, making him scream loud enough to wake the dead--and the neighbors. He felt the other man shudder and collapse against his back, lazily kissing the damp flesh there.

"Jim...you okay?" The voice was exhausted at best.

"Oh, man..." Jim groaned into the pillow.

"Is that good or bad?" Jim could feel all of Blair's muscles tensing on that question, obviously afraid he'd hurt Jim by taking the invitation to cut loose and ride him hard.

"It's great now. Probably be hell on the desk chair tomorrow morning." Jim laughed a little, and felt Blair relax, resuming his kissing and licking at the smooth skin of Jim's back. "My mouth's over here, Chief. How about joining me?"

"I would if I could move." Blair exhaled. "I don't think I've come that hard since--"

"Last night?" Jim quipped.

"Since never, man. Wow."

"Ah, Blair, are you going to move in back there or do you think maybe...?"

"Sorry, man. Are you uncomfortable?"

"I want to kiss you, baby. The only way I could do that now is if I were a giraffe."

"God, that would make a hell of a mental picture, wouldn't it?"

"Ouch," Jim said, laughing while Blair started laughing too.

"Guess I should move, huh?" Blair eased slowly out of his lover and crawled up into Jim's waiting arms. "You're sure I didn't hurt you?"

"You made me really feel it. There's a difference." Jim finally took the kiss he'd been wanting, taking his time to taste every bit of Blair's lips and tongue.

"You like it rough or gentle?" Blair asked, snuggling into Jim's arms.

"Gentle most of the time. Rough when I'm in the mood for it."

"Me too," Blair agreed.. "I love you, mine. Tonight was...wow..."

"You said that already, but I love you even if you repeat yourself."

Jim stirred and woke to the sound of music coming from downstairs. Disappointed that Blair wasn't in his arms, he checked the clock. It was close to midnight. They'd come home from the football gathering about nine, and gotten right down to business. Jim laughed a little to himself. //Just like a couple of horny kids...or honeymooners.// They'd only had the rings a few days, but they already felt like they belonged there.

He shifted and sat up, wincing a little. It was uncomfortable, and his prostate was tingling a little from the workout, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. And there was something strangely erotic about feeling it like this.

Pulling on a robe, he started downstairs. Soft music was playing on the stereo, and the light of several candles danced on the walls. Blair was in the kitchen, dressed in his navy blue terry cloth robe. The scent of his soap and shampoo reached Jim's nose.

"You showered already," he said quietly, sidling up behind Blair and moving the slightly damp hair aside to kiss his neck.

"You were really zonked, man." Blair continued preparing the sandwiches in front of him, despite the very large man draping himself around the smaller body. He had become somewhat used to preparing food with a giant human backpack named Jim.

"Whose fault is that, huh?" Jim returned to the spot he had kissed and fastened his mouth there, sucking the soft flesh.

"Ohh, man, don't do this to me."

"Hungry, huh?" Jim asked against Blair's neck, releasing a very nicely formed hickey.

"Ravenous--for food this time."

"Can't win 'em all." Jim gave him a little squeeze and kissed his cheek, releasing him and heading toward the bathroom.

"Jim?"

"What?"

"Are you really okay?"

"What is it you usually tell me? Beyond okay?" Jim smiled and disappeared into the bathroom.

By the time Jim had showered, Blair had a fire going in the fireplace, a plate of sandwiches on the coffee table and was carrying two steaming cups of hot chocolate into the living room.

When Blair was settled comfortably against Jim on the couch, their legs covered by the throw, nibbling on the sandwiches, Jim finally broke the peaceful silence.

"I really appreciate what you did today, sweetheart," Jim kissed Blair's forehead.

"What do you mean?"

"I know going to that party at Miller's wasn't easy for you. And I also appreciate the way you responded to Ed's apology."

"You heard all that?"

"I was tuned into you from the time you left to get the beer until you were back beside me. You oughtta know that by now."

"I don't expect all of those guys to agree with what we're doing. I just don't want to get slapped around for it."

"I'm glad you feel that way, because I don't really think I want to resign."

"I don't want you to. I never did."

"I know that. But I would have never worked in that environment if you weren't safe there. Because where you aren't welcome, I don't need to go."

"I feel the same way." Blair was quiet a few minutes, chewing and thinking. "How long do you suppose it'll stay like this?"

"What do you mean, sweetheart?"

"This intense? You were married before. How long does it take before it gets routine?"

"This is nothing like what I had with Carolyn. As soon as the physical novelty wore off...well, we just weren't meant to be. I never wanted her...in my space all the time. And she sure as hell didn't want me in hers without an appointment. We just clashed. She's a good person, but I wasn't what she was looking for, and truthfully, she wasn't the right fit for me either. So I don't know, based on that. I never felt this...intensely about anyone else before."

"Really?" Blair looked up at him with blue eyes Jim felt he could drown in without even trying. "I haven't either...but then I wasn't married, so I thought maybe with Carolyn...you know...it was this good for a while." Blair hesitated. "Jim...all my life...nothing's ever...lasted. I just don't...get comfortable in a situation all that easily. Sometimes...I get scared because...you know...if this...um, didn't work and you...you know, decided that I wasn't...what you wanted...man, I don't wanna say this because it ties you down--"

"Blair, I'm wearing your ring, I love you, and we're going to Hawaii in a month to get married. I want to be tied down. Just say it."

"If you broke up with me now...I think...I think it would probably break my heart so badly that I don't think I could...go on."

"Blair, you listen to me, and listen good. The only way I will ever break up with you is if you tell me to leave. And even then, you'll have to work damned hard to make me believe it." Jim set his hot chocolate aside so he had both hands free to soothe his partner. Why Blair was getting uncertain now, he didn't know. But it didn't really matter. All that mattered was reassuring him how permanent this really was. He tangled a hand in Blair's hair and pressed his lover's head against his shoulder. "You're not used to counting on anything, are you, baby?"

"I'm gettin' there, Jim. It's just taking me a little while, I guess."

"I'm not saying we won't get used to each other, or that as we get older, some of the frenzy won't cool off a little. But the love is never going to change. Because I feel just as...dependent on you as you do on me."

"Really?"

"Really." Jim smiled and kissed Blair's hair.

"My whole life has been...temporary. Everything...my friends, my mom's boyfriends, my schools...nothing ever lasted very long. I'm used to saying good bye, and...to...to being disappointed sometimes when stuff didn't work out or last very long. I guess I'm...kind of...I don't know. Scared, maybe."

"Scary to know you need somebody so much, isn't it? It is for me too, Chief."

"I won't ever leave."

"Me either, baby."

"I found a song I want you to hear. Mind if I go put it on?" Blair pulled away a little to look up at Jim.

"'Course not." Jim smiled and sat back, sipping his hot chocolate and watching Blair. Watching Blair was probably his favorite thing to do...well, okay, second favorite thing... He accepted the warm bundle of energy back into his arms and gave him a drink out of his hot chocolate mug as they curled together to listen to the song.

//I was gonna see the world one day,
Maybe be a movie star,
Or buy a quiet house down by the bay,
And write about the way things are,
But the way things are right now,
I can hardly write my name,
And I've lost my taste for the wandering ways,
For fortune and for fame.

Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you
Twenty four hours a day,
All the other dreams I've had
Have faded away.
Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you
Twenty four hours a day,
If you wanna be with me,
Then here's where I'll stay.

I was gonna save the human race,
Find my place in history,
Or sail away one day far out in space,
And live a life of mystery,
But the mystery to me,
Is the life I lived before,
And the place for me isn't history,
It's with you forever more.

Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you
Twenty four hours a day,
All the other dreams I've had
Have faded away.
Darlin', all I wanna do is be with you,
Twenty four hours a day,
If you wanna be with me,
Then here's where I'll stay...//

When Barry Manilow's voice had faded, Blair hit the button on the remote to switch them back to the disc of piano music that had been playing in the background.

"That was beautiful," Jim said, leaning down to share a gentle kiss with Blair.

"That says how I feel just about the best...even when I got that offer to go to Borneo back then...I couldn't leave you. I was trying to rationalize it, that I should go, that it was a good opportunity...but I couldn't have ever gone. It would have been like ripping my heart out and leaving it here."

"I don't want to hold you back, if..." Jim took a deep breath. Could he really say good bye to Blair for months on end? "If you need to go somewhere someday--"

"If I have to leave you, it isn't worth it. Life's too short and too uncertain to spend big chunks of it feeling miserable. I guess I played that song for you because I wanted you to know that I'll always be here. You don't have to worry about me leaving."

"I wasn't worried. I knew you wouldn't be allowed on the plane with that 200 pound carry-on bag you'd have to take along." Jim took a drink of his cocoa as Blair laughed.

"You'd go tromping through the jungle with me?"

"You did it for me. Besides, if it meant I got to see you sweaty and wearing nothing but a loincloth and a smile, I'd probably hike into hell with you." Jim smiled as Blair laughed and ducked his head. He was blushing, and Jim found that probably the most endearing thing in the world. "I'm already living for the moment I get to see you in a grass skirt."

"Over my dead body!" Blair's head shot up.

"Oh, come on, Chief. I can just see you, showing off that hip action there on the sandy beach at Maui--"

"I suppose you want me to put flowers in my hair too?"

"Nah. I just want to see you do the hula."

"I'll make a deal with you. On our wedding night, I'll do a hula routine in our hotel room, minus the grass skirt, you won't ever forget." Jim laughed. Now it was his turn to blush.

End