"But that is just not cool. I can't believe I missed it." Blair threw his keys in the basket and shrugged out of his jacket before heading to the kitchen as Jim stood by the table sorting mail.

"If you start going on about windows and make-up gifts, I will not be held accountable for my actions."

"But your birthday was last week; that's not in anyone's window, man. I mean, we've had dinner six times and I haven't even mentioned it." Blair grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and leaned against the wall as he watched Jim quickly sorting out the junk mail.

"Which is fine, Sandburg," he insisted without looking up.

"But I forgot your birthday."

"Chief, you've had so much going on lately that I'm surprised you remember your name on a daily basis." Jim finished his sort and headed for the kitchen. Blair thought he might be forgiven from the way Jim walked close enough that their bare arms brushed against each other.

"Pure exaggeration, man, *pure* exaggeration," Blair complained as Jim pulled out a beer for himself.

"Oh yeah?"

"Totally."

"How many online classes are you teaching?" Jim asked quickly, an expression on his face that suggested he expected to win this fight.

"Oh man, is that what this is about? I only have the two, which is fewer than when I rode along with you *and* took classes *and* taught."

"Uh, huh. And how many active files are you working right now?"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything. We all have big case loads," Blair said defensively and without actually answering the question.

"Stop obfuscating, Chief. How many?"

"Seventeen, okay," he snapped, "but most of those are dead in the water."

"And every week you still make the rounds on all seventeen cases, no filing them away into the inactive files."

"You never know when you might get a break," Blair insisted stubbornly. He wasn't going to budge on this point, not for Roth not for Simon and not even for Jim.

"I agree, Chief, but you can't kill yourself or you're going to do anyone any good. And right now, how many of your friends' dissertations are you 'looking over'?"

"Ah-HA! Only one. Got ya there."

"And if I added in master's thesis and other research papers, papers for publication, and honor's projects?" Jim asked with that victorious smile widening.

"Oh, man."

"Yeah, Chief. 'Oh man' would be one way to put it. 'Way too many' would be another."

"But that still doesn't excuse me forgetting your birthday."

"No, but it explains it. And I don't need a guilt gift and no talking about windows for forgiveness."

"But it's a cultural rule man, you miss a major event by this much and it's like WHOA!" Blair held out his hands wide to illustrate just how big of an issue he thought it.

"Then let's make up our own rules, including one that says the window of forgiveness never closes here."

"Hey, like a countercultural norm established in our little society of two," Blair said as he flopped down on the couch. He could definitely get used to not having to grovel or beg forgiveness or buy gifts he couldn't afford.

"Chief, you're strange."

"Yep, but you still love me... even when I forget your birthday." Blair said certainly. Jim's only answer was to sit on the couch and turn on the television. Someone else might have been insulted by the lack of an answer, but Blair focused on the way Jim sat just close enough for their knees to touch.

Funny, she looked smaller than he remembered, but then again, she tended to dominate every memory with her larger than life personality, so he supposed that it was psychologically inevitable that he remember her as larger than she really was. Of course, she was still a physically imposing woman and taller than he was. But as she came in the loft and stood next to Simon and Jim, she no longer looked impossibly large.

"Bets, good to see you," Jim said as he stepped forward with his hand stretched out. Bets ignored the hand and pulled Jim into a hug.

"How are you two no-good trouble makers?" Bets demanded.

"Still causing trouble," Jim said agreeably.

"I'll second that," Simon said as he stood up from the couch and held out his hand. "Simon Banks. I've heard a lot about you, and I'm glad Blair had a friend down in Phoenix those first few months."

"He had a lot of friends. He's a damn good cop," Bets corrected him fiercely, and Blair wondered for a second whether guides had some sort of 'protect me' smell that made warriors get all defensive on his behalf. Then again, Alex... the blonde one, not the purple one… kind of disproved that theory.

"We're lucky we got both of them back," Simon agreed, and that seemed to make the aggression levels drop significantly.

"Yeah. Roth complains constantly about you stealing Ellison and Frizz. But from the sounds of it, he's happier being back here, so we'll just have to live with the loss, even if it does mean I keep getting suck on Russo-duty."

"Frizz?" Simon asked with an amused expression.

"Don't start," Blair warned as he went back to the couch and sat on the arm.

"Yeah, lay off Frizz," Jim teased as he emphasized the nickname. Blair tried to shoot his partner an evil glare, but Jim had turned his back and headed for the kitchen.

"Watch it, Ellie-boy," Blair counter-attacked. Simon's expression grew even more amused.

"Ellie-boy? Oh, wait 'til Russo hears that one," Bets said with a wide smile.

"He'd just better not say it in front of me," Jim warned as he returned with beers.

"Boys and their egos," Bets said as she laughed and rolled her eyes. "How do you put up with them, Frizz."

"Hey, I'm a boy too just in case you didn't notice. Just because I'm sleeping with a guy doesn't mean that my dick fell off," Blair complained. He was rewarded with Simon sending beer out his nose as he choked from shock. It wasn't easy to shock Simon, and Blair felt a moment of pride at the accomplishment.

"You're all guy, Frizz. I know a dozen girls who would like a chance to remind you about all the things Ellison can't do for you. However, you aren't one of these guys with so much ego that you go around trying to defend your manhood by pissing all over your territory and shaking your spear at the enemy." Bets picked a chair and sat down.

"It sounds like you're accusing us of being some sort of throwback to a primitive form of man," Jim said with a smile over to Blair at the private joke.

"Oh man, do not agree with that," Blair warned Bets. "I told him that the first time I met him, and he slammed me into a wall." Bets looked over at Jim in shock, and Jim could only shrug.

"And did you think slamming Frizz around would prove you were a civilized human being?" Bets demanded with a raised eyebrow.

"Wasn't really thinking at all," Jim admitted. "But it all worked out in the end."

Blair looked around the room as Jim and Simon settled into seats, and he was shocked at how easily the two parts of his life slipped together. Bets with her plain-speak and Simon with his casual acceptance of her rather overpowering personality and Jim on the couch in an alpha-male sprawl that practically screamed his comfort with having these people in his territory.

"So, what have you two been up to lately?" Bets asked before taking a deep drink of her beer. Blair and Jim exchanged glances, and Blair took a deep breath and started in on their latest case.

Several hours, several attempts to play one-upmanship on who had the biggest case load, and several stories featuring psychopaths later, the four of them sat around the table with the smell of Christmas dinner drifting past them. Blair studied his cards and tried to use his knowledge of the players to figure out which of them was bluffing.

Simon gently chewed a cigar that he wouldn't light in the loft. Jim had a closed expression that even Blair had trouble reading. Bets looked amused, but she had looked amused when both folding and raising any number of hands. Blair decided to make a run at the pot this time.

"I'm in."

"I hope you don't play poker often." Bets said as she leaned back and considered the others.

"I'm in, so let's see what you have," Simon insisted unhappily as he dropped his money in the pot. But then the man was down by twenty dollars, so he had a right to be grumpy.

"Like taking candy from babes," Bets said as she laid out her cards triumphantly. Blair groaned before tossing his own pair of queens face down on the table.

"Well I'm out. Unless I want to hock Jim's Christmas present, my mad money for the week is gone."

"That's my Frizz, the only man to admit that he's outgunned rather than keep firing blanks."

"You know, if I wanted to be verbally abused, I could go have Christmas with my ex-wife and Daryl."

Bets laughed. "Okay, I'll stop picking on the men-folk."

"And I'm going to go check on the bird. It should be time to take the tinfoil off," Blair said as he stood up. "Jim, you're on dressing duty."

"Hell, it's not like I'm doing any good here," Jim said disgustedly as he pushed his chair back.

"How in the hell are we supposed to play poker with two people?" Simon demanded. "I'm not stopping until I win my money back off this witch."

"Sweet-talker," Bets said cheerfully. "Tell you what, let's have a little game of 21."

"You're on," Simon grabbed the deck and started shuffling.

"Man, should I point out that Bets paid her way through college by gambling?" Blair asked as he opened the oven door.

"Traitor," Bets hissed.

"Oh, Chief. You're in for it now," Jim whispered as he grabbed the French bread and pulled a knife out of the knife block. Blair shrugged. What was Christmas without a little bloodshed. Besides, he could hear Simon shuffling the cards even as he complained about Bets being a con artist.

Jim was busy carting dishes to the table while Blair carved the turkey and transferred the cut pieces to a plate, the steam slowly rising from the white meat.

"You two are quite the cooks," Bets said as she reached over with her fingers and grabbed a bit of stuffing. Jim took a swipe at her with a serving spoon, but she pulled her hand back with her prize before popping it in her mouth.

"Candy from a baby," Bets taunted, and Blair didn't have to see Jim's face to know what expression he'd find on Jim's face.

"Blair, did you invite Brown today?" Jim suddenly asked out of nowhere.

"Yeah, but he said he had to work," Blair answered as he look up. Jim's head was tilted at a particular angle Blair always associated with Jim using his Sentinel senses.

"He does. He's taking calls for the department," Simon added.

"Well, he's storming up the stairs two at a time," Jim said.

"Shit." Blair slammed the knife down on the counter. "Is it too much to ask for one day off?" Blair demanded to know as he pulled Tupperware out of the cupboard.

"But, how…" Bets asked, clearly confused. Simon ignored her as he got up and opened the door as a breathless Brown came into sight. Jim picked up the bowls he had just put on the table and put them back on the counter.

"Been trying to call you," Brown said as he came through the door.

"Yeah, some of us planned a quiet day without family members calling and pissing someone off, so some of us disconnected the phones," Blair said as he transferred hunks of meat and dressing into the plastic containers.

"Well, we have a bomb threat. Bomb squad says the first device was real, and the bomber says he's planted three other bombs."

"Oh for crying out loud. Can't criminals take at least one day off?" Simon demanded as he pulled his coat off the rack.

"Not in Cascade. Bets, welcome to the world's most dangerous city," Jim offered before heading up the stairs. Knowing that Jim would grab both their weapons, Blair kept packing up Christmas dinner.

"So, you want to ride along?" Blair asked Bets who still had a slightly bewildered look on her face.

"Sandburg, this is police business."

"And she's a police officer. Considering you let an anthropologist with no police experience at all ride along…." Blair looked over at Simon as he put the rest of the mashed potatoes into a container.

"And here I thought you guys were exaggerating," Bets said with a shake of her head as she stood up and pulled her own coat off a hook.

"Oh man, when you live in Cascade, you don't have to exaggerate," Blair answered as he grabbed a canvas shopping bag out of a drawer and started loading the food.

"Chief," Jim appeared in the kitchen, wearing one shoulder holster and carrying a second one. Blair took the second holster and slipped into it as Jim finished packing and picked up the heavy bag.

"Are we ready, people?" Simon asked, and Jim headed for the door while Bets followed. Blair brought up the rear, grabbing his keys out of the basket and locking the door behind him. Merry Christmas, Cascade style.

"Blair, I'm fine," Jim said as he continued to watch the game with one hand curled around Blair's waist.

"I know," Blair murmured against Jim's skin as he moved his hand down under the sheet. He found the curve of Jim's hipbone and traced the edge of the bone before letting his fingers slide down into the dip formed by the lower curve of that feature.

"So stop acting like I'm going to break. It's annoying, Sandburg." Despite Jim's words, Blair continued to explore every small shape and angle and texture on Jim's body. He touched everything except for the spot where gauze and white tape covered a hole that Blair didn't want to think about.

"I know you won't break," Blair said as he allowed his fingers to trail down to Jim's thigh where he could feel the coarse hairs under his fingertips.

"So what's this about?" Jim asked as he finally turned his head. Blair looked into the blue eyes of his lover, his injured lover, the lover he had nearly lost to a madman with a bomb and a gun and not enough brains to take his insanity somewhere other than Cascade.

"Just giving thanks, man," Blair said honestly. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Jim's lips as he gave thanks to every deity whose name he could remember.

"Uh-huh. One hand to brace yourself on the counter, one hand to brace your bandages, one hand for the soap and one hand for the razor," Blair offered in a perfectly serious tone. He carefully balanced the crock-pot of water on the side table as Jim clicked the television off. Crawling on the floor, he struggled to get the cord into the wall, otherwise the water would get too cold too fast.

"Smartass."

"Yep," he agreed as he lay flat on his stomach. He smiled with his success as the plug slipped into place.

"I'm not going to lie here while you fuss over me like an old man. It's a minor injury."

"It's a gunshot wound. You had surgery," Blair contradicted Jim as he got up and laid out the various tools. "If it helps, think of it as kinky," Blair said with a wink. That stopped Jim whose frown turned to surprise as Blair sat on the edge of the bed on Jim's uninjured side.

"Kinky, huh?" Jim asked, and Blair smiled at the tone. "I can do kinky," Jim agreed. A large hand rested on Blair's arm, Jim's thumb sliding over the skin invitingly. Blair reached down and pulled at the bottom of Jim's t-shirt, easing it over Jim's head and revealing the white bandages on one side. Blair forced himself to ignore the injury since too much fussing would just get him kicked out of his own bedroom.

"So let me do my kinky thing," Blair said as he pulled the towel out of the steaming bowl of water, wringing the water out before reaching over and curling the towel around Jim's face.

While the steam softened Jim's bristles, Blair soaked the brush in the basin of water, turning it slowly while watching Jim's body relax as the heat soaked into his face. Lifting the brush, Blair allowed the water to drip from it for a second before swirling the tip on the cake soap.

"Ready?" he asked Jim. The protests of earlier turned into an affirmative grunt as Jim reached up to take the towel off his face.

"My kink… you just lay there," Blair insisted as he pushed Jim's hand back down and pulled the towel off. Jim looked up with amused eyes but didn't argue.

Dropping the towel back into the warm water, Blair began near Jim's ear, working the brush in circles that slowly trailed down Jim's jaw line toward his neck. Jim sighed and tiled his head back farther as Blair lightened his touch, tickling the skin before working the lather into Jim's face.

Jim's sighed and made a small humming noise as Blair worked the brush, stopping once to reload the brush and continue the strokes up and over Jim's upper lip.

Opening the straight-razor, Blair checked the edge.

"You do know how to use that, right Junior?" "Fastest blade at Walt's Barber Shop," Blair agreed.

"Speed is not the issue," Jim pointed out, but he also closed his eyes and shifted a bit in the bed so that he could tilt his head back. Starting on the round of Jim's cheek, Blair angled the blade and drew it gently down, the familiar whoop noise ending as he flicked the blade off the end of Jim's chin. Jim didn't even flinch.

The hum continued as Jim worked, and Blair smiled at the trust his partner gave him. Putting the fingers of his free hand at the corners of Jim's mouth, he pulled the skin tight as he ran the straight razor over the sensitive skin, carefully avoiding the lip. Finishing the face, Blair moved to the neck.

Slipping his hand under Jim's neck and adjusting to the unusual angle, Blair gently pulled the razor up the exposed neck toward the chin. Using his thumb, he gently traced the newly shaved skin, checking for stubble, and Jim's body shivered in response.

"Kinky," Jim whispered hoarsely.

"Oh yeah," Blair answered as he looked at that neck, layered with lather, exposed, with a single track of smooth skin running up to the chin. Blair gently pulled the blade up a second time, and a third, stopping to run a thumb over the sensitive skin with each stroke.

When he finished, Jim's face, he carefully set the razor on the table and dunked the towel in the warm water.

"Over?" Jim asked sleepily.

"Not even close," Blair whispered. "Have to run the blade the opposite direction to make sure we take off every bit of stubble," Blair answered as he wrung the towel out, folding it and then laying it over Jim's face for the second time. "After all, we want you nice and smooth," Blair pointed out as he took a moment to trace the edge of a nipple with his thumb. Jim's hand came up and captured his wrist. Blair used his free hand to trace the muscles under the forearm for a second.

"My kink, you're just laying there, remember," Blair eventually said as he pushed Jim's arm back down to the bed. Picking up the bristle brush, he soaked and soaped it before pulling the warm towel off and again using small strokes to lather Jim's face. This time Jim watched with half-open eyes.

Blair retrieved the blade and slowly drew it from Jim's jaw up and over the round of his cheek. Trailing his fingers over the newly exposed skin, Blair could feel the perfectly slick surface.

"Feels good," Jim muttered, and for the first time, Blair wondered just how different it did feel for a Sentinel who could feel every single bit of stubble every time something touched his face. Blair turned his hand and ran the back of a knuckle over the smooth skin. Jim's eyes darkened. "You better finish before doing that too much," Jim warned, and Blair gave his partner a smile before pulling the razor up and clearing another line.

Once he had finished Jim's face, he turned his attention to his neck, running the blade against the grain as he finished the shave. Rinsing the blade, Blair carefully closed it and set it aside as he pulled the towel out for a third time, rinsing Jim's face.

Grabbing a bottle, he poured out the cooling balm and smoothed it over his palms before bringing both hands up to cup Jim's cheeks. Slowly, he stroked his lover's face, letting this thumbs trace the small lines at the corners of his mouth and trailing his fingers down Jim's neck and to his collarbone. Bending down, Blair pressed his lips to Jim's and felt Jim's mouth open for him as they slowly kissed. Blair allowed a hand to wander down to Jim's boxers, and Jim hummed into his mouth.

Eventually, Blair sat up. "So, kinky enough for you?" he asked as he looked down into Jim's blue eyes.

"Definitely," Jim answered as he reached up and caught Blair's neck, pulling him back down into the bed. "Remind me to get shot more often," Jim sighed.

"Don't even think it," Blair threatened. "Man, if you want another shave, I'm very open to bribery."

"Bribes. I can do that," Jim said as a warm hand slid around Blair's waist and fingers crept under the waistband of his pants.

"Bribes are good," Blair agreed softly, reaching up to kiss Jim again, and if that gave the man's fingers more room to work, it was all good.

Jim was off working a multiple homicide case with the FBI while Blair was working a serial rapist case. Blair pushed the details of his case out of his mind as he stroked a little harder, the cars racing around the track becoming background noise to his own rising lust. Oh yeah. Blair squeezed a little harder and angled his hips to give himself a greater range of motion. Oh fucking yeah.

The keys in the lock didn't register on Blair's lust addled brain until the door swung open. Oh shit. Blair pulled his hand out of his sweats and tried to will the blood back out of his cock. No way was he letting Jim catch him wanking on the couch.

"Hey, you're home early," Blair said as casually as possible as he focused on the cars.

"Told Simon I was getting a headache." Jim dropped his keys in the basket and went to the refrigerator where Blair heard a beer pop open.

"Hey, bring me one," Blair called.

"Aren't you on duty later?" Jim asked, but the refrigerator door opened again as he fished a second beer out.

"Much later," Blair said looking at the clock.

"How's the case going?"

"It sucks. Oh man, these prostitutes are never going to open up."

"You'll get there, Chief."

"So are you doing okay with your senses?" Blair asked, as he took the beer from Jim's hand. His Sentinel really did look worn and tired.

"Yeah, I just get headaches when I use them too much. As soon as you're done with the rape taskforce, Simon promises you'll be on this homicide."

"No guarantees, man, but I can feel it in my bones… we're this close to a suspect."

"I know you'll get him." Jim dropped to the couch heavily, and Blair had a flare of guilt that he couldn't be on both task forces at once. For a second he wondered whether Jim had been this worn out and frayed at the edges the whole time Blair had been in Phoenix alone.

"So, what have you been up to today?" Jim asked. For a second, Blair feared he'd been busted, but Jim just relaxed into the couch and cracked his neck first one direction and then the other.

"Not much. I have trouble sleeping in the day," Blair admitted. He didn't say that he had trouble sleeping without Jim, but he thought Jim knew it.

"Yeah, know what you mean, Chief." Jim agreed as he rolled his head so that his cheek rested on the couch and he looked over with a predatory stare that Blair recognized a second too late. Just as Blair went to flee the couch, a large hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Jim's forearm wrapped around him trapping one of his arms to his side as Jim's other hand started tickling his side.

"No. Man. Stop it. Jim!" Blair hissed between fits of laughter as Jim hijacked his body. "Red!" Blair finally gasped out, and the tickling stopped only to have Jim flip him onto his back on the couch with Jim crouching over him. Times like this, Blair could practically see Jim's spirit animal in him.

"Jacking off on the couch, Darwin? I'm sure there's a house rule about that somewhere," Jim insisted with a dangerous grin. Blair wrapped his legs around Jim's lower body so that Jim was just as trapped on the couch as he was.

"Rules, schmules," he shrugged.

"Oh, Chief, I can't have you breaking the rules by jacking off on the couch, Jim insisted as he shifted his weight to one side and moved his hand between them. "What kind of partner would I be if I didn't save you from yourself?"

Jim's hand pulled down Blair's sweatpants so that Blair's erection popped free. Blair went to grab his own cock, but Jim intercepted his hand so that no one was touching it, and Blair groaned his displeasure.

"Can't have you breaking the rules, Chief." Jim said in a falsely concerned voice. However, Blair let his arm relax against the couch as he waited to figure out his lover's game. Jim let go and slipped his hand in to unbutton and unzip his own pants before pushing them down. Jim lowered his weight a bit so that Blair could smell the beer and sour onions on Jim's breath as Jim grabbed both their cocks in one hand.

Blair bucked up off the couch and grabbed Jim's shoulders as he felt his lover's warm and twitching cock lying next to his in that tight grip. The hand vanished for a moment and then returned.

"Oh fuck," Blair grunted as Jim started working his fist up and down. Blair realized the whole thing had been a set up when he felt the cool slick of lube slide over his cock. And with each stroke, Blair could feel the warmth of that hand and the heat of Jim's cock travel through him.

"Oh fuck. Fuck," Blair threw his head back as he struggled to buck up with Jim's weight pinning him to the couch. "Fuck!" he nearly screamed as he fell over the edge of his orgasm and his muscles stiffened as his orgasm began. Jim pumped harder for a second, then stopped as Blair's cock emptied over both their clothes and probably dribbled onto the couch. Blair lay boneless and sated as Jim continued the last few strokes to finish himself off so that they really had created an impressive mess between them.

Jim's trembling arm collapsed, and Blair grunted as his partner's weight fell on him, both of their heads resting on the same cushion. Blair tightened his legs around Jim.

"Oh man, I think that last part qualified as jerking off on the couch," Blair muttered.

"Then we're even," Jim answered sleepily.

"Sometimes," Blair murmured, "too much independence sucks, man."

"Sometimes, Chief," Jim answered. Blair glanced at the clock on the TV, checking for the red light that told him he'd switched on the alarm, before closing his eyes and going to sleep to the sounds of cars racing laps on television and Jim's steady breathing in his ear.

"What?" Brown asked since he was the only other one there yet.

"You just had to ask, didn't you?" Jim rolled his eyes and went to his desk.

"Happy New Year!" Blair translated while Brown looked over in confusion.

"You have a problem there, Hairboy. It's February."

"Exactly. Time to put away the brooms and open the windows and welcome in the new year."

"Okay, you have definitely been smokin' something," Brown said as he shook his head.

"No way, man. Today is the beginning of Chinese New Year. There's a parade down in Chinatown and millions of people are celebrating the beginning of new chances."

"This ain't China," Brown pointed out with a smile.

"Yeah, but you should take every opportunity to remember that the world is full of new chances and new starts," Blair pointed out as he sat at his desk and started sorting the various lab reports on his cases.

"Hairboy, you are weird," Brown finally announced.

"Welcome to the Sandburg zone," Jim offered from his own desk.

"Whatever. You two need to broaden your horizons," Blair shot back with a smile. He just knew that he was ready to open the windows and let the old year out. As he thought back on the growing pains of the last year, he hoped that he would never again have to go through so much, and he hoped that he never lost the things that he had gained. Megan came in the door with a nod to him, and Blair nodded back.

"Hey, Blair. Got a weird one for you," Taggart called as he came through the doors. "Has your name all over it."

"What's up?" Blair asked.

"Did you know there's a Romanian mob? Got a shooting down at 14th with a bunch of grandmothers as witnesses. Won't talk to anyone."

"Let me grab my bag," Blair said as he shoved all his reports back into his in-box. "Catch you later, Jim," Blair said as he walked past his partner's desk.

"Home for dinner?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, but it's your turn to cook."

"Whatever," Jim answered, throwing Blair's favorite word back at him. Blair gave his partner a small smile as he followed Taggart out the doors. New year, new chances, new life: Blair would celebrate those just as often as he got the opportunity.

"Police brutality, this is good old fashioned police brutality," the perp complained, and Blair had to conceal a smile. If Jim had wanted to engage in some police brutality, this cross dressing Dorothy with an Adam's apple and a blonde pig-tailed wig would see serious police brutality. But from the way his partner bit his cheek, Blair guessed that Jim was more likely to laugh.

"Keep telling yourself that," Jim answered as he kept a hand on the tranny's arm. Blair followed behind in his dress blues, a police presence on Cascade's first gay pride parade. Unfortunately the uniform itched and three men so far had mistaken him for a dressed up stripper. Not that he could blame them since his growing hair hanging against his collar made him look like more like a hooker, at least according to Jim and most of the Major Crimes unit.

"I'm going to the press. I'm going to tell them that..." the tranny peered at Jim's badge. "I'm going to tell them that Ellison is a homophobic pig that tried to destroy the parade." Jim stiffened, and Blair thought back to all the times Jim had faced the press.

The times, when tired from Peru, magazine photographers had caught him looking worn and fragile even in fatigues. Jim had no love for the press, but then later the coverage of his first partner's disappearance led to suggestions that the man had been on the take. Blair had read any number of articles that suggested Jim might have been dirty, too. And most recently there was the big elephant in the room. The topic that even three years later they rarely discussed: the press feeding frenzy after the diss disaster. Oh yeah, the perp had hit a button there.

Blair held his breath as Jim hesitated, and even some undercurrent of tension warned the perp to shut up as Jim's jaw muscled flexed visibly. Blair wished he could take some of pain that his partner carried, but he couldn't. He could only stand by Jim's side as he fought his own demons. Blair watched as that muscle suddenly smoothed as Jim smiled.

"Buddy, if you want to go to the press, you go. I'll just point out that I was trying to save people the horror of looking at your scrawny ass," Jim commented as he pushed the Dorothy-dressed tranny toward a waiting police van. "And that wig does not work with your skin tone," he added as a uniformed officer took custody. Blair had to smile, both at the expression on the perp's face and at the sight of Jim's smile.

"Come on, Chief, we're missing the parade," Jim said as he briskly strode down the street toward the parade. Blair took a moment to admire the sight of his uniformed partner before hurrying after him. It was a good day.