SEVENTEEN
***
Jim watched the brick house between sideways glances over toward Blair. Blair focused on the house as though he could find the secret to life in the curtains that hung unevenly across the front window. Funny, sometimes Blair had all the answers… facts from a thousand random directions all converged in that one brain. Other times, like now, he just looked lost and confused as though human nature was somehow beyond his comprehension.

"You okay?" Jim finally asked. Blair physically shook his head as though that would clear his thoughts like an Etch-a-Sketch.

"Yeah, just, you know, thinking."

"Penny for your thoughts.

"Oh, they're worth more than that."

"Really?" Jim asked disbelievingly, and then the Sandburg smile appeared.

"Oh yeah. Way more," he agreed with a wink. "Or at least certain thoughts are. My thoughts about how the cellar music of Seattle reflects the rhythms of Yanomamo headhunters—well, that didn't really get much more than a penny. I got a whole fifteen dollars for that when it got accepted by an anthropological journal, and it took me more than two weeks to write that one article. Fifteen dollars divided by weeks of collecting data in South America and hours at the computer writing...."

"I think that comes out to less than a penny a thought, Chief."

"Totally. It's the life of an anthropologist. But I still made more for that than for the paper on Hopi humor and the use of practical jokes as a societal glue. Man, those people get vicious with their practical joking, but no one ever gets offended. But then I have other thoughts that are worth far more than a penny." Blair's voice slipped from his lecture-mode into a far more salacious tone: slower and deeper, and Jim could feel his body react. "Mr. Espinoza paid me many, many pennies for my suggestions on how to enjoy a little companionship without having the societal restraints inhibit him."

Jim shifted uncomfortably and focused on the house. "Only you could manage to make prostitution sound so altruistic." That came out harsher than he intended, but Blair just gave a little laugh.

"Man, it is not prostitution. The state statutes require intercourse to convict on prostitution, and there was no intercourse going on. He shoved a few things in my ass, I wiggled my tail at him, and then he spent the whole weekend slowly building up to one hard-earned climax as I sat at his feet."

"This is officially the strangest conversation I've ever had."

"And yet, you keep asking me about it. And altruism requires that you do something for completely unselfish reasons. Trust me, I had lots of selfishness going on. And then there was this one guy with a place out in the country. I made a few suggestions to him that he paid well for. He would keep me naked and make me masturbate until I was so hard that I would give anything to just come, and then he'd tie my hands behind my back and leash me in the backyard where he could watch me while he washed dishes. I'd hump the damn post trying to come, but it never worked."

Jim groaned as he looked at Blair's wistful expression, his own self-control nearly undone by jealousy and lust.

"Chief," he said, his voice coming out strangled, even to his own ears.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Four months," Blair said as he turned away and stared out toward a park where three kids swung around the jungle gym with reckless abandon. The tone wasn't one of frustration, like Jim was feeling, but of sadness and loss. Jim opened his mouth to ask what bug had crawled up Sandburg's ass--if only to get a smart ass response--but then sirens interrupted the suburban silence of the neighborhood.

"We're on, Chief," Jim said as he got out of the truck. He heard the other truck door slam as he started across the street. A patrol car came around the corner, followed by an unmarked car with Rafe behind the wheel.

Jim had nearly reached the door when the sound of a shot snapped through the air, echoing in the way that gunshots often do as the sound bounces off walls. Jim threw himself sideways off the walk, where the front windows had a good view of him, and backwards into Blair's body. Blair grunted heavily, but didn't complain as Jim shoved him back behind a tree and pulled his weapon.

The two uniforms and Rafe fell out of their cars, weapons pointed at the house, and Jim considered pushing Blair toward them. The cars were better cover, but it would mean crossing eight to ten feet of open space.

"Cascade Police! Come out with your hands up!" Jim shouted toward the house while still trapping Blair between his own body and the tree.

"Jim?" Rafe called.

"One shot, just as I reached the door," Jim answered, knowing exactly what Rafe was asking. Rafe pulled out his radio.

"Take the back," Jim shouted to the patrol officers. They hesitated, and then one crawled into the cruiser from the passenger side, his head below the window as he put the car into reverse. The second officer crouched beside it, using the moving car for cover until it had rolled out of range of the windows. Then both officers got in and backed up to the nearest crossroad.

Jim growled. Intellectually, he knew they were going by the book, but with each second, he could feel the arrest slipping away. The suspect was probably racing down the alley right now. Jim could only watch the silent house, the smell of Blair's fear in his nose, as he waited for SWAT to arrive.

It wasn't long before cars started arriving, and the black SWAT van pulled up not long after that. Jim got two SWAT members with shields to cover as Jim and Blair retreated to behind the SWAT van as a negotiator tried dialing into the house. Jim took the opportunity to call Simon.

"What?!" a voice barked through the phone, and Blair looked over, his startled look suggesting that even he had heard the bellow.

"Simon?" Jim asked.

"I'm on my way to the scene now," Simon said without Jim even asking the question.

"Did you get--"

"We got Terry Selmer. He started confessing the minute his mother opened the door. Kept confessing and apologizing even as we read him his rights."

"They got Selmer," Jim whispered to Blair who nodded absent-mindedly and watched the negotiator curse softly at the phone. Holt wasn't answering.

"Swanson?" Jim asked Simon.

"No sign of him," Simon said, and Jim could almost hear him chew a cigar. "How's it going with Holt?"

"Negotiator's getting ready to use the bullhorn," Jim said as he watched an officer hold out the megaphone.

"Man, he's just totally making it harder on himself," Blair mumbled.

"Are we sure he's still in there?" Simon asked, and Jim forced himself to pay attention to his captain and not Blair's muttered exclamations.

"SWAT has two heat signatures."

"Hostage? Friend? Maybe Swanson?" Simon listed the possibilities.

"Don't know. SWAT has the robot on the way, so if the bullhorn doesn't work, they'll send it in.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. I just took Selmer down to booking."

"So stupid," Blair muttered a little louder than most of his whispers.

"They should be ready to send the robot in by then."

"Stay safe, and keep the kid out of trouble," Simon ordered, and the phone went dead. Jim thumbed it off and slipped it back into his pocket.

"I know that these guys are major trouble, and the very fact that he had a gun means that he planned to take his hate to a whole new level, but man, I saw him, he looked about twelve. I mean, of course he has to be at least sixteen, but he's still just a kid. He has to be scared." Blair turned away from the SWAT van and sank to the ground, his back resting against the tire.

"That's what makes him dangerous, Chief."

"In most tribal societies, he'd be considered a man and sent out to hunt for himself by now, but I'm having trouble separating him from my own cultural assumptions about kids that young needing protection. I mean, it's such a waste."

"He tried to kill you," Jim pointed out coldly as he crouched down in front of Blair. He would be happy to strangle Holt for that crime alone.

"Yeah, that's the weird thing," Blair agreed. "So, how long?" Blair waved vaguely toward the circus set up outside the house, the yellow tape holding neighbors back away from the scene, the patrol officers herding news crews into a single area, and the helicopters overhead. The negotiator yelled an ultimatum through the bullhorn, and Jim flinched as his headache instantly developed ambitions for migrainehood.

"Headache?" Blair asked, and a warm hand landed on his forearm.

"Fuck, yeah," Jim agreed as he rubbed his eyes briefly.

"Tension can wreak havoc on the body. When we get back to the loft, I'll give you a backrub."

"Chief," Jim warned, and Blair held up his hands in surrender.

"An honest backrub!" he insisted. "I'll just loosen you up so that the tension doesn't make you, well, so tense."

Jim thought of pointing out that Blair's hands on him wouldn't exactly make him less tense, but right now, he liked Blair's hand resting on his arm. He just pretended that the touch pulled the headache out of him like a thread until the pain retreated to the corner of his mind where it throbbed without distracting him. The negotiator tried the bullhorn once more as a tech unit's van pulled up behind the line of patrol cars on the south side of the street. Techs in their blue jumpsuits jumped out.

Jim and Blair stopped mid-conversation as the SWAT team with their huge shields moved to cover the movements of two of the techs. One had a remote control he used to steer a metal box that looked like a dorm room refrigerator that had fallen on its side before someone stuck a camera on the top. The second tech carried a laptop with an oversized monitor.

"Time to get the show on the road," Jim said as he stood and held out his hand for Blair. Blair took it, letting Jim pull him to his feet so they could join the huddle around the laptop.

One detective looked towards Blair strangely, and Jim slipped his arm around his partner's back, guiding him to the front of the observers where they would have a good view of four armored men approaching the door, two with shields and two with a battering ram.

Jim could almost swear he could hear the suspect's mother sob from across the street where she stood in the middle of a circle of cops. But then the camera jerked into motion, making the picture bounce as the robot trundled up the sidewalk toward the SWAT team's backs. One big bounce over a threshold, and the robot was in.

At first the robotic camera just showed a normal suburban home. The couch was at least a decade out of date, a heavy leather thing that had escaped the eighties. The wallpaper looked to be from the same decade. The robot turned the corner into a cluttered dining room that obviously got used for paperwork and homework more than eating.

Bouncing over the place where the carpet turned to linoleum, the robot trudged into the kitchen. Jim put a hand on Blair's arm, caught between a need to pull him away and some perverse need to see that Blair could handle the sight on the screen. He could feel Blair's arm shake slightly as the camera focused on the twisted face, mouth open in a mockery of a grin, powder marks on his lips making them look goth-black.

The camera shifted, the red pattern on the floor a Rorschach blot against the yellow linoleum.

"Oh man," Blair whispered.

The robot backed up some and turned to the right. Something moved. Immediately, the remote control operator swung the camera around to find some kid Jim had never seen before sitting between the refrigerator and the table, a gun clutched in his hand. He whispered to himself desperately, but so softly that not even the robot's microphone could pick it up.

Jim tugged at Blair, and for a half second, he resisted the pull. Then Blair yielded, and Jim backed away from the monitor. Something told him this wasn't going to end well, and Blair did not need to see this. Hell, he didn't need to see it either. Blair was right--it was a waste of a life, and it was hard not to see someone's kid in that terrified face.

Jim had pulled Blair back to the truck and unlocked the door when the echoing gunshot rattled the windows and cast a shadow over the crowd. Blair flinched.

"It's about choices. You don't get to make them for other people, even when you want to," Jim said softly. "Not even when you know you'd make a better choice for them."

Blair slid onto the truck seat and SWAT team members stormed the house. Jim knew he'd need to go in there later and deal with the case, but right now, he was more interested in dealing with Blair who was far too quiet and too pale.

 

EIGHTEEN
***
Jim walked into Simon's office, reports in hand and Sandburg still doggedly trailing behind despite Jim's offer to take him back to the loft.

"Here you go, sir," he said as he offered the papers. Terry Selmer had confessed as quickly and as to as many people as possible, shutting up only when he learned his two buddies had followed through on their threat to kill themselves, and the preliminary M.E. results agreed that suicide was the probable cause of death on both Carl Holt and Dan Swanson. Blair remained silent as he hovered at the door. He kept insisting that as an impartial observer he had an obligation to observe, but Jim just wished the man would sit down somewhere before he fell down.

"How's Sandburg taking it?" Simon asked as though Sandburg weren't three feet away.

"About as well as any rookie takes a death in the field," Jim answered truthfully. He expected Blair to come to life, object to being discussed as though he weren't there, but instead he just leaned against the door frame.

"Not an easy case for any of us," Simon said. "Shit, these kids aren't much older than Daryl. Either I'm getting old or the perps are getting younger."

"Maybe a little of both," Jim offered. Simon scowled up at him. "But the ones with kids hit everyone a little harder," he admitted.

"Yeah," Simon agreed softly. "You guys have had a hard day, get out of here."

Jim nodded as he headed back out of the office, herding Sandburg out of the room with him.

"Hey, Jim, Hairboy," Brown called out to them both. "You guys want to grab a beer?" he asked as he stood next to Rafe. They both looked worn out and rough around the edges. "I promised to kick Rafe's ass in a game of pool, and there's plenty of ass-kicking to go around."

"Another time," Jim answered for both of them when Blair didn't seem to have an answer.

"Sure thing." Brown shrugged and then he and Rafe headed out the door just as night shift people started filtering in.

"Whoa, Sandburg's back again?" Detective Maud asked incredulously as he came through the door. For a second, Jim couldn't place the comment, and then he realized that no one had told night shift about the changes yet.

"He's my partner, now," Jim said as he firmly guided Blair past the detective.

"Better him than me," Maud commented from behind, but Jim ignored the grumbled remark, focusing on getting Blair out of the station before some emotional dam burst. He wasn't sure if Blair would strike out at someone or fall apart, but he didn't think Blair wanted to do either in public, which explained his strange lack of emotions. The man was putting everything into controlling himself, and Jim could feel Blair's need to be controlled leaking into the air. He needed to give away the control so that he could let go, and Jim just had to get them to the loft before something happened.

The drive passed quietly, Jim silently cursing the late traffic; Blair silently grieving three young lives. Blair didn't recover his voice until they reached the loft and he announced loudly that he had to piss. Jim didn't say anything as Blair fled the hand on his back and locked himself in the bathroom.

Puttering around the kitchen, Jim focused on the sounds from the bathroom, the groaning of water through pipes, the flush of the toilet, the faint sounds of footsteps in the small room.

"Blair," Jim said noncommittally as the man finally came out of the bathroom.

"Jim," Blair returned in the same flat tone. Jim put down the beer he'd just opened and walked around to really look at Blair. He leaned against the kitchen post and just watched the stiff body language as Blair shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Don't feel sorry for those three—they made their own mistakes," Jim suggested, but it was obviously the wrong thing to say. Blair frowned and backed up a step.

"Yeah, I should be grateful because now we don't have to go and wait those four months, right?" He challenged angrily.

The words horrified Jim into silence, but then he heard the brittle tone, the near hysteria that Blair was obviously riding.

"Chief."

"No, I mean, isn't that what we were complaining about just seconds before? Doesn't this just solve all that?" Blair demanded. Jim reached out for him, but he detoured around Jim and headed for the door. "Man, I'm out of here."

Jim practically leaped forward, grabbing Blair by the right wrist and swinging him around.

"What? You want to do it now? Hey, got a condom?" Blair asked, the teasing tone taking on dark and desperate strains, and now Jim could feel the guilt like an oily shadow slithering between them.

"It's not your fault," Jim said quietly, but he refused to let go as Blair squirmed. He'd underestimated Blair's grief once and had gotten a sore gut for it. He wasn't making that same mistake again.

"Of course it's not. Fuck, I'm not stupid," Blair snapped. "No, I didn't make him kill himself; I just sat in the truck wishing he would just disappear, and the universe did the rest. This is some serious-ass karma, man."

"You aren't responsible for what you think," Jim said, pulling Blair toward the living room and the couch. Blair fought him every step of the way, but Jim had the advantages of height and weight, and he actually wanted to win. Even now he could see Blair struggle with his own need to lose in the way the knees would dip for a brief moment and the way Blair's eyes would slide down to the floor. The need to submit dragged at Blair, but he fought it as he fought Jim.

"Fuck. Of course we're responsible for what we think. Catholic philosophers call thinking a sin equivalent to doing it, and most eastern teachings focus on purifying the mind because our thoughts are the only things we truly can control." Blair finally returned to the verbal battlefield once he gave up on the physical fight. He slipped into his professorial role: one more escape.

Ignoring the psychological gymnastics, Jim sat on the couch and pulled Blair down with him. Blair fell so that they sat with their legs tangled, Blair half lying on Jim.

"Hey, you want to wrestle?" Blair said, slipping into sexual mode again as he wiggled invitingly, but his voice still sounded dark and angry.

"No." Jim simply slipped his leg around the back of Blair's thighs and captured his left wrist. Then he held on and waited for the explosion.

"Piss or get off the pot," Blair demanded as he writhed, grinding himself down on Jim's groin.

"I am doing something, and this is the only something I plan to do tonight," Jim said calmly. For four or five seconds, Blair continued to lay there in his embrace. Because of the way they had fallen, Jim's right arm hugged Blair's back and held Blair's right wrist, so Jim had no doubt he could hold on, but he braced himself. After that brief moment of shocked calm, Blair burst into frenzied movement, twisting and squirming and straining as he struggled to get his feet under him.

Jim used his leg to pull Blair closer so that he couldn't, and simply tightened his hold until he could smell their combined sweat and his muscles ached from the tight grip. Blair cursed with a rich variety of expletives that shocked even Jim, and he jerked his body side to side, but Jim held on.

Eventually, Blair collapsed, sagging into Jim's chest and breathing heavily as little shivers traveled through him.

"Right, so now that you've proven that you're big enough to bully me and I can't stop you, what now?" Blair asked flatly. Jim spat Blair's hair out of his mouth without letting go of the man.

"What do you want to happen from here?" he asked.

"Oh, what I want matters?" Blair asked, his voice sounding like a petulant three-year-old, and now Jim knew he was getting at least some of the real Blair out from under the layers of roles he played. This wasn't the working boy or the professor. Blair was frustrated and scared, and after today, Jim could admit to feeling a little of both himself. He'd taken Blair up that walk without ever considering that the suspect might have a gun. He'd sat in that truck wishing the same things Blair had... that the case would just evaporate and he could take Blair home and tie him to the bed. Even Simon would feel it tonight, the loss of life, the stupidity, the age of the suspects. Any good cop who touched this case would have a nightmare or two. Jim took a deep breath and focused on Blair.

"What you want always matters. I won't always give you want you want since I'm more concerned about what you need, but I will always listen," Jim said softly. Blair shivered. However, as much as Blair played at submitting, he wasn't ready yet; Jim could feel that in the stiffness of the man's back.

"Oh, so now you think you have a right to tell me what I need? Oh man, I am an adult, so don't play your head games with me."

"Yes, you are an adult," Jim agreed. "One who wants to let go, and I'm offering you that. But I won't negotiate the control with you, Chief. It's mine. And while you always have a say and a veto, you don't get a vote."

"Fine. I veto this. Let me fucking go," Blair demanded. Jim loosened his hold and Blair squirmed until he had an elbow on Jim's chest and half sat up even though Jim kept his hold on Blair's wrists. Jim looked into Blair's face, watching for the honest fear and fury he'd seen in Caro's the minute he'd taken their game too far. Of course, with her he'd kept pushing, trying to prove to her that she would love it. Big mistake.

"Do you really want me to let go?" he asked seriously, unwilling to make the same mistake again. Blair's eyes darted around the room and finally landed somewhere in the middle of Jim's chest. Jim tightened his hold once he had his answer. At first Blair resisted, and Jim flinched as the elbow in his chest dug in, but he refused to loosen his hold and eventually Blair relented, tucking his arm in as Jim pulled him close.

Jim didn't know any words that could ease the pain in his own heart, or in Blair's, so he just held on. He could feel the dampness as Blair silently cried. He ignored it, giving Blair space to grieve even without letting go. He let his own head tilt back and rest on the back of the couch as he closed his eyes. Eventually the ragged breathing settled into a more even pattern and Jim could feel the storm pass.

"Are we going to stay here all night?" Blair asked quietly.

"Depends," Jim answered.

"On?"

"On whether you're going to try and punch me when I let you go." Jim smiled, remembering their last fight. Most men he knew turned grief into something physical... they drank or played a hard game of basketball or punched a wall or tried to kick each others' asses in pool. Jim had just never found another man who he enjoyed comforting the way he did Blair. He enjoyed the physical contest, and he even enjoyed knowing that if he failed to hold Blair the man would slam out the door, needing a partner who could hold on to him. Somehow, Jim doubted that he'd ever found that partner simply because anyone who finally got the leash around Blair's neck wouldn't be likely to let go without a fight.

"No way, no punching. Man, I am gathering karma points like... whoa," Blair said with an exaggerated shudder, and Jim loosened his hold enough for Blair to slip off his lap and sit on the couch next to him, but Jim kept his hand on Blair's leg.

"You know, the liking gags.... it's totally self defense," Blair said as he leaned forward, head resting on his hands. "I say stupid shit when I'm totally freaked. Really stupid shit."

"Yeah, I figured that part out," Jim agreed. Blair tilted his head and looked at Jim out of the side of one swollen eye.

"I do stupid shit when I lose control, so it's not like I don't know where you're coming from. I fucked up my whole marriage because I couldn't handle what was happening between us."

"Marriage?!" Blair sat up. "But I thought..."

Jim watched in amusement as confusion and panic danced in Blair's face.

"Like you said once, I just see beauty no matter what gender it takes," Jim shrugged. What did Blair call it? Obfuscating? Blair did not need to know how little experience Jim had because Jim could not deal with Blair in teaching mode in their bed. "Come to bed, Blair," Jim said as he stood.

"I'm not sure--"

"I don't want you to sleep alone. Besides, this way I don't have to tie you to the couch to make sure you don't freak out in the middle of the night and start punching random neighbors in the hall," Jim teased.

"I wou--" Blair stopped as he finally spotted the expression on Jim's face. "Smartass."

"I have miles to go to equal you in that department, Junior. Upstairs. March," Jim ordered as Blair stood and headed for the stairs. Jim slipped his hand onto Blair's back, urging him upstairs. Tonight they just needed to not be alone. Tomorrow would sort itself.

In the bedroom, Blair stood, his arms wrapped around himself uncertainly as Jim pulled out two pairs of pajama bottoms. Once he started shrugging out of his clothes, Blair followed suit, stripping and slipping into the borrowed pajamas without a word. Jim sank gratefully into bed, and Blair slowly followed.

"I usually don't sleep with guys unless I'm tied to the bed," he said softly.

"So you prefer girls?" Jim asked, but that didn't stop him from reaching out and grabbing Blair's waist, sliding the smaller man closer so that their legs tangled.

"It's not that; I usually don't stay the night with them. I'm not really good with the morning after conversation. I mean, I can talk, but I usually end up talking myself into some really awkward corner."

"So the preference for gags," Jim finished for him.

"Oh, yeah. Totally."

"If you say anything particularly stupid, I promise to gag you," Jim said solemnly, but Blair still poked him in the ribs with a finger.

"Totally too late, man." Blair barely whispered the words, but Jim could hear the fear lacing them. Since he wasn't exactly great with talking himself, he just pulled Blair closer, letting his weight rest on Blair's side, pinning him to the bed. If this were another time, he would tie Blair, tether him to the bed and collar him so that he felt anchored, but Jim's self-control had a limit, and seeing leather against that skin would be just too far to push. Blair needed some time to heal, and Jim really needed to not fuck up this relationship.

"Good night, Chief," Jim finally murmured into Blair's ear, but Blair was already asleep.

 

 

NINETEEN
***
Jim wandered in the soft place between sleep and waking, a soft thumping blocking out the city noises that so often woke him. He hadn't even heard the damn car alarm that seemed to go off at five-thirty every morning.

Shifting, Jim felt Blair's warm skin under his hand. He reached down and rubbed his thumb in a lazy circle on Blair's hip and the man made a small moaning noise. Jim smiled at the unconscious response and slipped his fingers under the elastic band of Blair's borrowed pajama bottoms.

Making little mewls, Blair rolled into the touch, and Jim let his fingers skim down into the warm valley where the hip and leg met. The curled hairs tickled his fingertips, and Jim wondered what it would feel like to hold another man's cock in his hand. He'd felt his own often enough both before and after Caro, but he'd never touched another man's body like this.

When Jim reached in a little farther, Blair arched his back, and Jim could feel him balancing on the edge of waking. Regretfully, Jim pulled his hand out and shifted onto his side so that he could brush the hair back from Blair's face.

Shit. He hadn't wanted anyone with his level of need since… well, he had to look a little farther back than Caro. Maybe Lila. The week with her had been wildly passionate and he'd searched for her with a sort of desperation, but looking back, maybe that had just been his attempt to find a life after Peru. But now, he had a life, and yet he was willing to upend his entire, comfortable world to make room for this man.

Yep, when Caro found out, she was going to gut them both and hang their intestines off her balcony. He remembered with embarrassment the fight they'd had when Caro had rearranged the living room furniture, and now he couldn't wait to rearrange all his careful plans and schedules. He wanted Blair to wake up so they could negotiate the details of... Jim stopped. His imagination couldn't quite decide what a future with Sandburg would look like. Would the man come over twice a week for sex or hang out with Jim and the guys on poker night or would he slowly back away from Jim?

With a sigh, Jim pushed out of bed. As much as he wanted to explore every inch of Blair, to hold him down and taste him, these details wouldn't just evaporate. God, he didn't even know how to ask a man out on a date.

Padding downstairs, Jim peed and performed his morning ablutions in an emotional greyness that kept all the hopes and fears far enough away for Jim to function. He took a fast shower, refusing to allow himself the indulgence of a fantasy or an orgasm.

Despite his attempt to hurry, when he opened the bathroom door wrapped in a robe, Blair stood there, yawning and scratching his hair, making an even worse tangle of it than sleep had.

"Why don't you just cut that?" Jim asked before his mouth checked in with the brain. Blair sleepily blinked up at him several times, seeming more confused than offended.

"It's a statement. People remember me with the hair. Besides, it gives people something to hang on to when I'm working," he said with a wink as he licked his lips.

Jim went from controlled to raging lust in record time.

"Don't you like it?" Blair asked uncertainly, and now Jim blinked in surprise. He had the sudden impression that Blair would cut it if Jim gave the wrong answer, and that level of control scared even him.

"Your hair; your business," Jim said carefully.

"Then you asking me why I don't cut it is just your normally cheerful way of saying good morning?" Blair asked sarcastically as he crossed his arms over his chest and smiled.

"Chief, you remember last night?"

"Oh yeah," Blair immediately answered.

"I promised I would gag you if you said anything stupid, and you're approaching the line," Jim warned.

Blair smiled wider. "Promises, promises," he sing-songed as he pushed past Jim and headed for the bathroom.

"Brat," Jim said to the closed bathroom door before he headed upstairs to grab some clothes. He wasn't scheduled at work, so he slipped into soft, faded jeans and a Jag's t-shirt before heading into the kitchen and starting the coffee. Eventually, Blair and his usual cloud of steam emerged from the bathroom looking a little more awake.

"So, what's your schedule today, Chief?" Jim asked.

"I don't have office hours until ten, then I teach an Anthro class, and I'm all yours starting at three." Blair wiggled his hips a little when he offered himself, and Jim had to rein in his own lust.

"So, you're still riding for the month," Jim confirmed.

"I said I would, unless you don't need me to now that the case isn't going to trial." Blair sounded suddenly uncertain, and Jim hated that tone.

"Chief, I'd love to have you along. You get people to open up, and if you hadn't gotten Swanson and Selmer's names out of the cashier, we might have had even more tragedy yesterday. The way I would have played it, I would have gone to Holt's house, and when he shot himself, I would have interviewed his mother and tried to track down any of his friends. By then, Selmer might have had time to panic and figure out a way to kill himself."

"Do you really think?" Blair hesitated.

"I don't say things I don't believe. I'll introduce you to my ex-wife sometime, and she can tell you the story of what happened the one and only time she ever asked me if a dress looked good on her."

"Oh man, you didn't," Blair breathed in horror. "I mean, I totally suck at the whole courtship ritual, and even I know the only answer to that question."

"I don't play games. If you ask a question, you'll get an honest answer," Jim insisted as took a fork to the eggs he'd cracked into the bowl.

"Did I fuck up?" Blair asked quickly. "The case… was there any point when what I did caused…"

"No." Jim interrupted that thought before it could go any farther. "They got a gun. Whether they intended to use it on you or themselves or some gay man walking home from a club, the tragedy was written the minute they made that choice, and you didn't have any control over that." Jim turned and looked Blair in the face before he added the next bit. "No more than I did." Blair looked up silently for a second and then he nodded, the point made.

"So, I did okay?"

"You did great, so stop fishing for compliments, Junior," Jim said as he turned back to his eggs, watching Blair out of the side of his eye as he dumped the eggs into the pan. His words transformed Blair, making him not only smile but also give a little bounce before the energy suddenly became much more subdued.

"Are all your cases so—"

"Lots are just plain boring," Jim warned as he grabbed bread and put it in the toaster. Blair slipped into the kitchen and grabbed the butter out of the refrigerator. "You'll probably be running from sheer boredom before the month is up."

"No way, man. Once I commit, I'm hard to get rid of. I once dug on this archeological site for five weeks, and I found a big giant zero. Or, as the head of the team put it, I discovered four feet of dirt where the burial grounds weren't. And I found them one teaspoon full at a time. That's what convinced me that the archeological end of the science was just not for me. Had a dig partner named Daniel who'd lose himself in the dirt and I'd just be thinking, man, why am I doing this? But the point is, I stuck with it until the end. "

"I would think the Geneva conventions would outlaw doing that to grad students," Jim sympathized as he left Blair to the toast as he stirred the eggs and pulled them off the heat.

"You'd think. Besides, if I switch back to studying sentinels right away, Dr. Stoddard is going to think I'm a major flake."

"How long have you known Stoddard?" Jim asked, tilting the eggs out onto the two plates Blair had pulled from the cupboard.

"Oh man. Ever since I started college when I was sixteen. Naomi had lots of guy friends, and I had some great times, but I never really had a mentor until Eli."

"If he's known you that long, he already knows you're a flake," Jim pointed out with a smile.

"Ha ha." Blair shoved one of the plates at him, and Jim took it before all the eggs ended up sliding to the floor.

"But he's obviously willing to put up with you."

"Yeah, he is," Blair agreed. "You should have seen what an overbearing force of nature I was when I was sixteen. I was like totally convinced I would change the world and enlighten all who came near enough to hear my voice." Blair chuckled as he followed Jim to the table with his own plate.

"I saw *that* when you showed up at the station," Jim pointed out. Blair glared.

"So, how long are we going to ignore the elephant?" Blair asked as he shoved half a piece of toast in his mouth. Jim swallowed.

"You know I want you, but I'm not wired like you are, Chief. I can't separate what you do at work from what I want to do to you here."

"So you want me to quit," Blair said softly.

"No," Jim immediately said, and then he held up his hand before Blair could point out the obvious contradiction there. Good logic, Ellison, he growled at himself. "I don't want to feel like I forced you to do something you didn't want to do," he corrected himself. "I don't like that other men touch you, or other women, but I don't want you to feel like I'm giving you an ultimatum."

"So if I keep working?" Blair asked.

"I'll do my best to deal with it," Jim offered honestly. "And I'll feel an overwhelming desire to beat up anyone who I know is a client, so it might be best to keep the client list elsewhere."

"Got it," Blair said, but he had such a smile that Jim couldn't stop himself from smiling back.

"That wasn't supposed to make you happy," Jim pointed out, amused.

"Oh man, the claiming of mutually exclusive territory… very alpha male."

"Gag, Sandburg. Gag." Jim jabbed his fork toward the man.

Blair waggled his eyebrows and shoved another forkful of eggs into his mouth. "So the observer-cop thing… any conflict of interest or rules or lawyers to worry about?" Blair asked after he swallowed. Jim watched the bobbing Adam's apple.

"No rules. I asked Gary and he said that no lawyer would have standing to even bring up the issue. It was just your reason for being at Mr. Espinoza's that opened a crack for them to wiggle through."

"You asked Gary?" Blair asked in shock, and Jim looked up, concerned that he had somehow offended a man who seemed pretty unoffendable up to this point.

"Yes. Why?"

"Oh man, I guess I just thought I'd be in the back of your closet with the bowling shoes."

"I don't have bowling shoes."

"You really don't do metaphors well, do you?" Blair asked, the wonder now turning a little sour.

"Chief, I'm not ashamed of you, and while I don't plan to have hot sex on the interrogation room table, I don't plan to hide the fact that I care about you."

"Okay. This is just shifting so fast that I can't even keep up with what's going on," Blair said as he stood and backed away from the table.

"One: I want you. Two: Gary says that our relationship won't compromise any cases. Three: the regs don't forbid fraternization as long as you aren't on the payroll. Four: I really want you," Jim finished as he put down his fork and got up, determined to finally finish this game they had played for far too long now.

"Okay." Blair drew the word out cautiously, but Jim stalked after him, watching as Blair backed to the wall. Closing the distance, Jim stood so that he almost touched, but not quite.

"You're always calling me the alpha dog because that's what you want me to be, isn't it?" Jim prodded. Blair swallowed heavily, and Jim braced his hands on either side of Blair's head as he reached down and sniffed his neck. Shit, he'd never been a neck man before, but something about Blair's neck begged to be marked, to be mauled and tasted and kissed.

"Projection. Probably. You know, the whole projecting what you want on to other people."

Jim pulled back a little and looked at Blair with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm usually gagged by this point in the game. Either that or I'm on a date with a girl, and this would be about when I said something stupid that made her doubt my IQ."

"There's more than one way to gag a mouthy sub," Jim whispered. When Blair opened his mouth to object, Jim leaned forward and pressed his lips to Blair's, forcing his tongue into Blair's mouth where he tasted and explored and then backed off just enough to nibble and suck the swollen lips. After several minutes, Jim pulled back, and Blair blinked dumbly at him, his mouth still hanging open.

"I—" Blair started.

Again, Jim attacked, sucking and teasing and probing. This time he brought one hand around the back of Blair's neck, pulling him forward, away from the wall.

"Upstairs," Jim commanded as soon as he released Blair's lips. Blair just stood breathing heavily, his eyes dark and uncomprehending. Jim tightened his hold on Blair's neck and guided him toward the stairs.

TWENTY
***
Jim paused at the top of the steps, and Blair immediately filled the silence. "I'm really okay with this… totally okay, and I don't mean to be backseat domming here--"

"I hear a 'but' coming, and unless you're voicing a veto, not another word," Jim warned. With his hand on Blair's back, he guided Blair to the bed and finally let go, stepping back and crossing his arms. "Strip."

Oh, that made Blair happy if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by. Blair smiled and gave his hips a little shimmy as he unbuttoned the jeans and pushed the zipper down. Jim leaned against the rail and watched as Blair sank into a stripper routine. Looking up from under his lashes like a shy harem boy, Blair turned and slowly undulated, letting gravity pull the jeans down as he worked the buttons of his plaid shirt.

Blair swung in a slow circle, stepping out of his jeans as he let his shirt fall off his shoulders. With just the white t-shirt and underwear, Blair looked so damn young. Young and vulnerable, and Jim let his own hand inch down to his cock. He pressed against his jeans, hissing as the pain forced his orgasm back.

With a triumphant smile, Blair pulled off his t-shirt, revealing his chest as he dropped it to the floor. Now, Blair hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the underwear, swaying until his back was to Jim as he worked them down until gravity took over. Moving to that same silent music, Blair turned a lazy circle until he faced Jim again. Now Jim could see the heavy balls hanging, framing an impressive cock. Not as impressive as Jim's, of course, but Blair would probably just accuse Jim of playing alpha dog if he pointed that out.

As Jim watched, the sultry seduction of the impromptu dance slowly turned to fidgeting. The swaying hips became erratic, jumpy as Blair gave an awkward bounce.

"You want to?" Blair held his wrists together. "I mean, you're a cop, so I'm guessing those cuffs come in really handy."

"Window dressing," Jim said as he stepped forward. Blair took a small step back, his wrists still together, and Jim took both wrists in his one hand and then pressed Blair back so that he fell to the bed, and Jim fell on top of him. Blair's breathing quickened, and Jim had the unfamiliar sensation of another man's cock pressing into his stomach as he lay on Blair.

"The cuffs and chains and puppy suits, they're all window dressing," Jim muttered as he felt Blair subtly pull at his wrists only to find that Jim had more than enough strength to hold him. "We'll play with them, and I'll love seeing you on your hands and knees, muzzled and nosing my hand for attention like the good little puppy you are, but not this first time," Jim whispered into Blair's ear as he tightened his hold on Blair's wrists. "You need to know that I can hold you without any of those."

Blair looked up. "I think you've already proved that, and I've really wanted to always try out a cop's cuffs." Blair gave a wiggle, and Jim could feel the man using his body as distraction and temptation, but the need to dominate was greater. Jim reached down and latched onto Blair's neck, sucking hard so that he could feel the heat rise to the surface before he let go.

"You don't get a vote, only a veto," Jim said, confident from the soft mewls under him that Blair wasn't about to veto anything. "So I've taken your request in mind, and the answer is no."

"Bully," Blair complained weakly, but then Jim licked the red spot on his neck and Blair gasped. "Fuck. Man, I am so not lasting long here."

"I didn't ask you to," Jim said, smiling into the bare flesh. He could feel Blair tremble, and Jim sat up, still holding Blair's wrists. "Scoot up," he said as he pulled on Blair's wrists like a leash. Blair wiggled back, following Jim's tugs until he lay in the middle of the bed.

Jim put Blair's wrists over his head and held them both in his right hand. That left his other hand free to skim over warm flesh. The nipples were islands in the chest hair, and Jim rolled one between his finger and thumb, feeling it turn hard and pucker under his touch. Blair's legs started to curl up, and Jim threw his leg over Blair's lower body, pinning him to the bed.

"So are you planning on getting naked here?" Blair asked. Jim brought his hand up and rested a finger over Blair's lips.

"You never stop do you?"

Blair shook his head slowly, and Jim's finger skimmed over his lips.

"Well, I think I already proved that there's more than one way to shut up a mouthy sub," Jim said. Blair started to say something, and Jim crushed his mouth to Blair's--tasting, nipping, sucking until Blair writhed on the bed. Jim shifted more of his weight onto Blair, holding him down. Fuck. Jim wasn't going to last long either.

Jim pulled back and smiled as Blair returned to that breathless, blank expression where every worry and manipulation and annoyance vanished under raw need. Jim reached down and grabbed Blair's cock.

With a smothered cry, Blair arched and bucked, and Jim tightened his hold, shifting his leg up and nearly laying on the man to keep him restrained. The cock in his hand twitched and burned, and Jim stroked it slowly, his fingers moving gently up and down the hot shaft.

"Fuck. Oh. Just. Man." Blair breathed the words, each a wheeze punctuated by gasps.

"Problem, Junior?" Jim asked with a chuckle. Blair didn't have an answer; he just thrashed helplessly under Jim's weight, now mindlessly fighting—and losing—and obviously in heaven.

Jim tightened his grip around that cock just a fraction, moving quicker, but not in time with the jerky thrusts that Blair managed as the mattress creaked its protest.

"Fuck. I just. Fuck."

Jim chuckled at the sight of Blair, his face flushed, his eyes nearly dilated black, his mouth gasping out words without meaning. Thrashing so hard that Jim had to focus for a second on just holding on, Blair lapsed into grunts, and Jim finally relented, tightening his hold and stroking in time with Blair's frenzied squirming. Within three seconds, it was over and Blair orgasmed, his come splattering over his stomach and Jim's hand.

Reaching down, Jim freed his own cock and within two strokes, he had added his own come to the Pollock painting of white scattered across Blair's stomach. Blair panted as though he'd run a twenty mile course, his body slack and sagging and pliant.

"Fuck," Blair finally announced. Jim lay on Blair, his own body relaxed in a way that called him to sleep, and he had to agree.

"You have a real potty mouth there, Chief," he said as he released Blair's hands. He could see the red marks from his fingers pressing down, crushing the skin, but Blair didn't comment as he reached down and ran a finger through their combined come spread over his stomach.

"Some tribes believe in drinking ejaculate during certain ceremonies as…" Blair only stopped when Jim put a finger over his lips.

"Chief, out there, I love that you know so many things. In here, you don't have anyone to impress."

That made Blair fall silent as quickly as the kiss had earlier. Jim let his head fall to the pillow as he traced his own pattern on Blair's stomach, their fingers turning the Pollock into a series of trails across Blair's body.

"I think that's the first time I've come with a guy without, you know," Blair finally whispered, "bondage." He nodded awkwardly. "Lots and lots of bondage."

"You want to know that someone won't let go, and I won't Blair," Jim said. Blair's stomach was now sticky, and Jim let his hand migrate south to Blair's thigh. "Fight all you want, and it just gets me more excited."

"I noticed."

"But I need to know that I'm not bullying you, that you're strong enough to not just fight back, but say something if you're not comfortable."

"Oh, I'm feeling pretty fucking comfortable," Blair quickly said. "And you'd hear all about it if I wasn't. Even if I was gagged, I would find a way to make you hear *all* about it."

"God you're a pushy sub," Jim complained with a smile.

"Uh-huh," Blair agreed.

"Be careful about getting too pushy or I'll have to remind you of your place," Jim warned. He could feel a shiver go through Blair. "I'll have you crawling around and eating your dinner off the floor and sleeping at the foot of the bed." Jim smiled as Blair moaned.

"Fuck, yeah."

"Man's best friend?" Jim asked.

"For you, always," Blair agreed. Jim checked the clock. Three hours before Blair had office hours.

"Stay, boy," he ordered playfully with a pat on Blair's head as he rolled out his side of the bed.

"Woof." Blair sounded sarcastic, but Jim noticed he stayed where he'd been told. After rooting around in the closet for several minutes, Jim came back with a few toys.

"I'm worn out, so I'm going to catch a little nap before you have to leave for the university, and I don't plan to be interrupted by some people running their mouth," Jim said as he picked up the first item. The gag was small, little more than a rubber flap on a strap that went around the head.

"You so bought that for your wife," Blair accused him.

"If I bought it for you, I would have gotten one much, much larger," Jim agreed dryly, "But Carolyn vetoed this whole experiment long before we got to this stage."

"Man, she had no idea what she missed," Blair shook his head. "I—"

"Shhh," Jim shushed him as he got back into the bed. Blair half sat up and opened his mouth as Jim reached over. Fastening the gag in place with the Velcro closure, Jim brought out the next item.

"I won't ever use the cuffs on you, Blair," Jim said. Jim watched the eyebrows lower in confusion, and even gagged the man really could make his thoughts pretty clear. "You need to let go, and the cuffs would cut into you. These are better." Jim brought out the soft leather cuffs. Blair held out his hands and Jim bucked them into place.

"And since that gag doesn't have a lock, and you'd better believe the next one will, we need to keep those busy little hands away from places they shouldn't be." Jim pulled out the ankle restraints, buckling them to Blair's feet before pulling out the chain and two locks. The first lock went through one end of the chain and the two wrist cuffs. The second attached to the ankle cuffs.

The length kept Blair just slightly curled, and pulled his hands down toward his feet, but Blair just lay with his head on the pillow and blinked up. Jim reached over and pulled Blair closer to the edge of the bed, moving him like a doll, and Jim's cock started making estimates on how long it would take for round two.

"You okay?" Jim asked. Blair nodded. Walking around to the other side of the bed, Jim reset the alarm and slipped off his clothes, draping them on the railing before he slid into bed in behind Blair, spooning against his back. Blair leaned a little into him, his breathing deep and regular, his muscles relaxed.

"You're a beautiful man, Blair Sandburg, in more ways than one," Jim said quietly as he slipped an arm around Blair's stomach and pulled him close so that flesh merged with flesh. Blair just sighed through his nose as Jim settled in for a morning nap. After that orgasm, they both needed one.

TWENTY-ONE
***
For the second time that day, Jim woke comfortable and horny. This time, he allowed his hands to freely travel Blair's body, even when Blair started squirming into the touch.

He still had plenty of worries. How would their lives fit together when Blair wasn't riding along any more, how would it be to live apart, how much would he feel a need to track down all of Blair's work contacts and arrest them? Better yet, Jim wondered if he could lose the paperwork after arresting them. How many clients could just vanish into the system before Blair noticed business dropping off?

Pushing that little fantasy off to the side, Jim just let himself just relax into the warm, willing body that shared his bed. Strange how Blair's gender truly didn't matter to him. As many offers as he'd had in the past, he'd never even looked twice at a man, and now he would be spending the day doing a little research.

Blair grunted and thrust his hips back, making the chain rattle.

"Nice," Jim muttered into the back of Blair's neck as he reached around and tweaked a nipple while Blair lay helpless to stop him. "I'd go for round two, but you need to get to the university, and the alarm's going to go off in about two minutes."

This time Blair's answering grunt wasn't nearly as happy. Jim smiled as Blair slumped as though in defeat. Even gagged, the man was mouthy.

"Of course, I could always keep you here, tease you until you squirm and beg and leave your students waiting for their professor who mysteriously never appears," Jim threatened with a chuckle. "Ravish you until you're too worn out to escape." The threat just made Blair wiggle harder, and Jim slapped a hip with his hand. "But then I'd have to arrest myself for kidnapping, and, no offense, but you are not worth the paperwork," he added sadly.

Blair made a strange strangled noise.

"Just speaking the truth. You're worth a lot of trouble, but not that much. You should see the paperwork on a kidnapping." Rolling out of bed, he grabbed the keys to the locks from the dresser and walked around to Blair's side.

Oh, the man had a serious hard-on starting, but Jim was not about to start the habit of quickies. Instead he crouched by the side of the bed and pushed Blair's hair back from his eyes, stroking a cheek and tracing the edge of the gag with a finger.

The gag was small enough that Blair could breathe around it, and now he huffed so that warm air flowed over Jim's fingers. Jim smiled as Blair curled his hands and thrust his hips so that the chain between his wrists and ankles jingled.

"You're about as subtle as a train wreck, Chief," Jim answered. "But I do like waking up to find you in my arms, with or without the chains," he added. Silent Blair was a dangerous thing because Jim felt words press up, aching to fill that silence with confessions that he didn't dare make. Instead he reached out and pulled the gag open, the Velcro making a ripping sound as he pulled the warm plastic and rubber away from Blair's face.

The gag left a faint red line across Blair's face, and Jim cupped his cheek, feeling the heat of it.

"Kinda like waking up here," Blair finally answered. Jim leaned in and kissed Blair, a soft, gentle, slow kiss where he could taste the rubber from the gag. This time, Blair responded, and Jim groaned as Blair explored, catching Jim's lower lip and sucking gently for a second. The chain rattled again as Blair yanked at it, and Jim nearly lost all of his resolve.

"Work, chores, office hours," Jim said as he pulled back.

"Bully," Blair complained, but he didn't say anything as Jim unlocked the two ends of the chain and then unbuckled the restraints. Blair was half hard, and Jim realized that his own cock was just as interested. Blair stretched, arching his back and smiling wickedly, and Jim could imagine that expression had made many men do whatever Blair wanted.

"I wouldn't mind if you kidnapped me. After all, it wouldn't be my fault if my newly approved dissertation subject kept me away from office hours, and trust me, the students will not show up for help until two days before midterms are due. It's way too early for any panicking or even any actual studying."

Jim could feel his resolve waver as Blair trailed fingers down his own chest, and he silently added 'watching Blair bring himself off' to the list of things he wanted to try. Fortunately, the alarm clock buzzed its warning, and Jim shook himself loose of the spell Blair was weaving with those wandering hands touching himself.

"I'll give you a ride to school," Jim said as he turned back to grab the clothes he'd pulled off just a couple of hours ago.

"If you could drop me off at the warehouse, I'll grab the Corvair. That way you don't have to pick me up," Blair said as he started moving. Jim hesitated. He liked Blair relying on him for a ride, and that was probably crossing some line between domination and manipulation, but he still felt that way. He didn't particularly like Blair going back to the warehouse either, but with the case over, he could safely go home. Home. The warehouse. Jim felt that thought like a jagged little rock rolling around in his guts.

"No problem," he answered as he grabbed his jeans. His erection had vanished and he pulled himself together quickly.

"So, this afternoon, what do I do with the Corvair? I don't want to pay an arm and a leg for parking, but I don't have sticker for the employee lot." Blair pulled his shirt over his head, the sultry slowness of just a second ago vanished under this normal manic energy.

"What's your license plate? I'll get the paperwork done so that a sticker is waiting for you at the entrance." Jim felt strangely pleased that Blair still needed him for something. Of course, for the next month, Blair would need him for any number of reasons as he wrote papers on the police and communication with minority groups, but when he had his clients and his life back…. Jim didn't let himself finish that thought.

"My license plate?" Blair asked incredulously. "Give me a break. Who knows their license plate number of the top of their head?"

"804 GDT," Jim answered.

"Okay, strangely, that does not surprise me," Blair huffed. "Man, you redefine anal retentive."

"It's not anal retentive to know your license. If someone stole your car, what would you tell the police?" Jim asked as he headed down the stairs, Blair behind him.

"I'd probably say, 'If you find the guys who took this piece of shit Corvair I drive, thank them for me. You'll recognize it by the way it dies at red lights.'"

"It dies?" Jim asked, not even a little amused by that piece of humor. He'd seen some nasty accidents caused by that.

"Man, I love my car. She's a classic, but she is one seriously high-maintenance lady, and I'm not known for my success at keeping the ladies maintained. I do better keeping the guys happy," Blair said as he shrugged into a jacket and gave Jim a little show with a wiggle and a wink.

"You should get it fixed."

"Man, don't call her an 'it'. It's hard enough to keep her running as it is." Blair followed as Jim headed out the door. Once again, the elevator didn't work, and Jim headed for the stairs with Blair still in tow. Conversation stopped until they reached the street, but Jim wasn't ready to concede yet.

"Still, you need a reliable vehicle."

"I do not need some big fancy gas guzzler like some people," Blair defended himself. "I mean, some guys need a big, shiny, expensive phallic symbol that is all alpha male, but I don't." Blair stopped near Jim's truck, crossed his arms, and smirked. It took a couple of seconds for Jim to catch that as he unlocked Blair's door.

"Very funny, Chief, but my truck is not a phallic symbol."

"Of course not. Not that you have anything to compensate for," Blair finished as he leered at Jim's crotch and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Gag, Sandburg. Gag."

"Any time, Ellison."

Jim rolled his eyes and headed around the truck, getting in on his side and staring out the windshield for a second. "Carolyn didn't like my old truck. She called it an eyesore," Jim admitted. He started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot.

For several minutes, the truck was quiet as Jim headed for the warehouse.

"I'll be sticking with the tried and true method of pleading with my girl to just keep running until the next paycheck. It's not like money grows on trees," Blair changed the subject back to the car. "$850 a month for rent, a good $300 a month if I wanted it heated decently, more if I actually want it warm. There's $250 a month for health insurance that is *not* optional if you want to go on any university-sponsored trips.

"Then there's the school costs: between $600 and $1000 a semester books and then tuition and the fees for various expeditions and lab costs and travel money when I'm running around South America with Dr. Stoddard. And very few grants pay for all the costs for graduate students, so I'm on my own for food once we get over there." Blair stopped, snorting his disgust.

"Of course, the really fun expenses are the things you have no idea are about to hit you in the face like a cold halibut: things like the cost of replacing everything in your backpack when it develops black mold and gets confiscated by customs as a health hazard. After I worry about all that, then I put a little aside for the necessities like food and bondage equipment."

"But don't you make good money?" Jim refused to say it out loud, but he could imagine men would pay a lot to have that body bound and wiggling under them. He'd pay good money for it, or pay good money to keep other people away from it for that matter.

"Oh man, if I let guys actually fuck me, I'd rake it in, but I have limits."

Jim nodded, fighting to keep the smile off his face. "I thought maybe you were..." Jim paused. How did he say this?

"Lying through my teeth about the prostitution?" Blair prompted.

"Obfuscating to avoid putting me in an impossible situation," Jim corrected.

"Nah. I'm a little too paranoid about giving guys that much control." Blair shrugged, and the conversation just trailed off. Jim focused on the traffic until he pulled up at the warehouse.

"Man, this really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"Chief, it's your life."

"This really bothers you, doesn't it?"

Jim sighed, and tried to decide how much honesty this relationship could take. Of course, he'd tried the not-communicating route with Carolyn and it hadn't worked out all that well for him. The more he tried to keep his inappropriate thoughts to himself, the more she pushed, almost like she knew what he had lurking just under the surface and resented him for it.

She thought she'd married a man who would play a game every now and then, a passionate game that would stop when she wanted it to stop. As much as he'd been honest with her in most parts of life, he never told her how much he resented it when she suddenly wanted to turn that passion down and just switch the games off like a light switch. She wanted vanilla, and he tried to be that. He tried shoving away thoughts of wanting to possess her. He'd hidden the unused presents he'd bought, like the gag, and had gone out and bought jewelry instead. He failed. Sighing, he decided to go with brutal honesty this time.

"I fucking hate it," he finally admitted to Blair. "But it's your life, and I hate that I feel so possessive because I don't want to be a jerk."

"You just want to tell me what to do and where to work without being a possessive jerk," Blair summarized. Yeah, Jim could hear just how ridiculous that sounded.

"This is not a subject I really want to discuss with you." Jim cut off the conversation, unlocking the power doors as an invitation for Blair to get out.

"And by not discussing it with me, I hope that means not discussing it, because if you won't talk to me, and then you talk to other people, that would be strange," Blair said with a small laugh.

"I'm not the talking kind," Jim confirmed.

"Oh man, I am. I'm not the communicating kind, but I'm totally the talking kind," Blair said, and Jim could feel the conversation sliding away from him.

"So, I'll see you at the station this afternoon?" Jim asked, eager to get back on solid ground. Spotting the Corvair, he quickly made mental note of the license.

"Yeah. Sure thing. So, you're going in later?"

"Yeah. I have the day off, but that's really the only time I can get caught up on paperwork," Jim said, happy to be discussing something less volatile than their relationship. "I'll have the pass waiting for you at the parking entrance."

"I'll be there," Blair promised.

"I'll see you then," Jim said, watching the kid bounce out of the truck and over to his car. He drove down the street, but he stopped at the end of the street, watching as Blair got in his car and started it with a series of pops that made Jim flinch. Maybe next weekend he could talk the kid into coming over long enough for him to take a look at the thing.

 

TWENTY-TWO
***
"Jim," Simon said as he stepped up to the desk. "No puppy today?" The words were teasing, but the tone instantly put Jim on guard.

"He has classes today."

"He's not home?"

"No. Why?" Jim stood up, a heavy feeling wrapping around his guts.

"We have reports of an explosion and fire at his warehouse."

Brown looked up from his desk. "Is Hairboy okay?" he asked, and, from the expression on Simon's face, Jim knew that the captain didn't know. Jim just blinked for a second before he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

"Hold on. You are not driving with that look in your eye. I've seen your driving record," Simon said as he hurried after Jim, but Jim ignored him as he punched the elevator button. He had just given up and headed for the stairs when Simon caught him by the arm.

"I don't care how worried you are, you can not race down seven flights faster than the elevator. God, Jim, just how deep are you in with this kid?"

Jim scrubbed his face and considered that the answer was far more complicated than he could ever explain. Simon instantly shut up as the elevator doors opened and two uniformed officers from Traffic came out, laughing. Jim barely waited for them to pass before pushing in, Simon close behind. As he pressed the "P" for parking level, Simon started in again.

"Jim, you're just getting over the break-up with Carolyn. I know you get protective, but this kid is trouble. I don't want to see you falling into the middle of it. Besides, he's your ride-along, and I don't see how you can justify endangering prosecutions just to get your rocks off."

Jim tightened his lips. He didn't want to have this conversation right now... or ever. Right now, he just wanted to get to Blair's house and make sure that he was safe.

"Do I need to assign him somewhere else?" Simon asked, the question clearly a threat.

"No," Jim snapped, finally forced into talking. "Simon, he's good on the streets, good with people in a way I'm not. And I'm not about to endanger any case we work."

"That's what I would have assumed a week ago. Now, I'm not so sure. Now, you're acting like a man who is on the verge of putting himself on the line by sleeping with a witness."

"He's not a witness," Jim pointed out. Simon stopped, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he put those pieces together. The elevator doors opened, and Jim strode toward Simon's parking place. He was probably right about Jim not driving because Jim could feel panic rising in a way it hadn't in a long time.

They stayed silent until Simon pulled out into the street, turning on the dash light as he threaded through traffic, some of which stopped, and some didn't. Jim took notes on license plates of cars that didn't stop, determined to write a few tickets just as soon as he found Blair safe and sound and in one piece.

"You can't work with him if your relationship isn't professional."

"There aren't any rules against it." Jim wrote down the license plate of a large SUV driven by a woman who was putting on makeup in her rear-view mirror. He mentally added a second ticket.

"Jim, think of what this could do in the courtroom."

"Gary has no problem with it."

"You talked to *Gary*?" Simon fell silent after that, focusing on the traffic, and Jim could feel the shock roll through the car. It wasn't exactly disapproval, but Jim wasn't expecting any congratulations soon either.

"Simon, I will not put you or myself in a position to have an ethical dilemma. This will not be a problem."

"Oh Jim, I wish I could believe that." Simon didn't say any more, but he drove a little faster as the smoke from the warehouse district appeared from behind an office building. Grey curled up into the sky.

As they turned another corner, red and blue lights reflected off dull buildings. Several news trucks were parked just past a police line, and fire-fighters straggled out of the building carrying equipment. Most of the damage was done to the opposite side of the building from Blair's apartment, but Jim's stomach still clenched in horror at the sight. One wall had blown out, shards of twisted metal littering the street. One police car tilted drunkenly, two tires taken out by the scrap.

Shit. If those had torn through Blair's apartment... If Blair was there... Jim got out of the car before it had completely rolled to a stop.

"Any casualties?" he asked the first uniform he found. The man seemed to hesitate, and Jim closed the distance quickly enough to make the kid back up a step.

"Captain Banks and Detective Ellison," Simon introduced them, holding out a badge toward the wide-eyed rookie. "Who's in charge?"

"Captain Carmonelli, CFD," the man said as he gestured toward a fire truck. "Um, I think three or four people got shot, one was dead, but no officers down," he finally answered Jim.

Jim traded incredulous looks with Simon before they both headed for the fire trucks. Gunfire?

"Sir, I had no idea. They started shooting out of nowhere." Another uniform intercepted them before they could reach their destination, and Jim narrowed his eyes at the pockmarked man. He knew him.

"You were one of the officers who gave Sandburg shit over at the Espinoza scene," Jim accused him. The man's jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly.

"My partner and I came over here to apologize. I know he's doing ride-along now, and yeah, some of the guys aren't so okay with that. Carter and I wanted him to know that we aren't with that crowd. He just surprised us at the scene, and we said some things that we shouldn't have."

"What happened?" Simon interrupted.

"We pulled up in front of the warehouse and, within seconds, someone just started firing on us. I returned fire while Carter called for backup." The uniform gestured toward a tall, lanky man in uniform who was talking to another detective, a guy from Narcotics named Lieutenant Williams.

"What the hell was the explosion?"

"That was a gunshot hitting canisters of chemicals. This was a drug lab, a major one," a fire captain offered as he walked up to them. "I thought Williams had this case."

"One of our guys lived next door: Ellison's ride-along," Simon said, giving the other departments a united front even though Jim knew he hadn't heard the last of Simon's displeasure.

"Did any of the victims have long, curly hair, male, about thirty, five foot seven inches?" Jim could feel his guts tighten as he waited for the answer, but the captain just shook his head.

"All our victims are black. Units are still clearing the building, though."

Jim tilted his head. His hearing seemed strangely dull as if the captain's voice had become muffled with cotton. However, he could hear another voice at the end of a long tunnel. Turning around, he scanned the crowd. Reporters lined up with their backs to the scene as they performed for the cameras, and the curious pushed close to where uniformed officers stood by the sawhorse barriers.

There.

"Man, that is my house. This is not a dictatorial regime, and a man has the right to find out what happened to his fucking house."

Jim started walking toward that distant fight. He couldn't actually hear the officer's reply, but Blair crossed his arms furiously.

"Buddy, I am taking your badge number. If I wore a suit and tie, no way would you..."

Blair stopped the minute his eyes found Jim striding toward them. His arms dropped down to his sides, and Jim could see the relief in his face.

"Oh man, will you tell this asshole to stop acting like an asshole?" Blair demanded.

"Show him your pass, Chief," Jim suggested as he felt his own knees weaken in relief.

"Oh, yeah." Blair dug through his backpack until he came up with his ride-along badge, pushing it much closer to the uniform's face than he actually needed to.

"You're kidding," the uniform said as he looked at Jim doubtfully. Jim crossed his arms and glared until the man's expression turned a little more respectful.

"My partner comes behind the line at any scene I'm on," Jim warned. The officer stepped back, and Blair snorted his disgust as he slung his backpack over one shoulder and stepped closer to Jim. Using a hand on Blair's back, Jim herded him back toward Simon and the now larger cluster of people in the middle of the scene. Williams and the uniformed cop's partner, Carter, had joined Simon and the fire captain.

"I see you found your ride-along. Between your driving record and Sandburg's ability to attract trouble, I'm considering taking out disaster insurance for the whole department," Simon complained.

"Oh man, my house. Who blew up my house?"

"That would be the drug dealers who lived next to you," Jim pointed out dryly. Now that the fear had vanished, Jim could feel the rising frustration. "What the hell are you doing living in this neighborhood in the first place, and how could you not notice you had a drug lab next door?"

"Jim, take it easy," Simon coached.

"Oh man, do not pull that alpha shit with me right now. My house just blew up. Blew up. Fuck. I need to see if I actually have any stuff left."

Blair started for the building. The fire captain stepped into his path and Jim grabbed his arm. "No way, not until the building is cleared. Stuff can be replaced; you can't," Jim said firmly.

"Yeah, stuff can be replaced. With what money? I just fucking quit two hours ago, and now my house blew up. I have two months rent into that place, and no way will my landlord give it back. And I need those two months to find some place that I can afford. Fuck."

"You quit?" Simon asked, clearly shocked. Blair crossed his arms and glared.

"Yes, I quit. Now I have to figure out how to live on just my teaching salary, which is not enough to actually live. Fuck. I suppose a couple of clients might not be too freaked out about me working with the police. Maybe." Blair didn't sound convinced, but Jim was focusing more on his own feelings.

Blair quit. The same day Jim had said he hated the job, Blair quit. Jim was caught between a joyful relief that he wouldn't have to share Blair with other men, and a sort of blind terror at the amount of power Blair had handed over in that one act.

"You can stay with me until you get a new place," Jim said quickly. Simon narrowed his eyes and looked at Jim, but Jim just stared back, showing none of the emotions he was feeling.

"Man, I can't believe my house blew up."

"I can," Simon said dryly. “You're a walking disaster, Sandburg. Trouble just follows you."

"Har har. Very funny, man."

"Chief, you aren't going to be able to go in there for a couple of hours. How about you give me a ride back to the station?" Jim said as he started pulling Blair away from the group.

"Do you want a report on this?" Williams asked. Jim left Simon to deal with that as he guided Blair past the police line and back to the car. He got in without a word, and Jim slipped into the passenger side.

"Oh man, they blew up my house. I told you I was building up karma with all my emotional implosions lately, but man, the universe did not have to be that literal."

"You quit," Jim answered as Blair pulled into the street.

"Yeah." He got suddenly quiet.

"You didn't have to."

"Man, if you'd tried telling me that I had to, I so would have told you to take your alpha-dog ego and shove it up your ass," Blair answered quickly. Jim laughed.

"Yeah, you would have."

"I just was not expecting the universe to dump on me two hours after I quit. Man, this is..." Blair let his words trail off, but Jim could hear a pain and worry that he didn't like in Blair's voice.

"You have a place with me."

"I am not going to mooch off you. If I wanted a sugar daddy, I could have found one before now," Blair shot back.

"I didn't say mooch. We could come up with a financial agreement."

"What? Rent? For my space in your bed? Your closet under the stairs? Man, that is a seriously cramped little space, not that I'm going to have a whole lot left after my house blew up."

"Blair--" Jim stopped, really not sure how to say this without crossing the tentative boundaries they were starting to build. Silence ruled as he tried to find the words.

"Okay, I am officially calling a five minute time-out. Anything said will not be used against you, even if you say something that makes you sound like a complete alpha dog moron."
"Hey," Jim objected.

"And I can say anything even if it makes me sound like a total loser. Deal?" Blair bulled right on through.

"Pull over," Jim said. Blair glanced at him, but then he pulled over into the parking lot of a McDonalds. Blair drove toward the back and parked under the shade of a tree. "Deal," Jim said. They both sat and stared at the leaves in silence.

"Okay," Jim finally started. He might as well act like the alpha dog Blair always accused him of being. "I'm not comfortable with the idea of you quitting for me, but I'm glad you quit. And now I'm feeling guilty because you don't have the money to replace everything you just lost."

"Oh, please," Blair snorted. "Get over yourself, Ellison. If I’d really wanted to keep working, I so would have, but honestly, the thrill is just not there."

Jim listened silently, nodding. "Okay, so you didn't do it for me."

"I didn't," Blair insisted, but Jim wasn't buying that for a second.

"I want you to move in." Jim watched as once again that mysterious blush appeared, coloring Blair's cheeks as he dropped his head, letting his hair hide his face. Jim reached over and brushed the hair back so he could see the rare embarrassment.

Blair sighed. "Okay, so I did do it because you hated the job, but if you'd made a big deal out of me quitting, I would have kept working. And I wasn't kidding; the idea of working is not getting me excited the way it did."

"You're good for my alpha-dog ego," Jim said softly.

Blair snorted. "I'm creating Frankenstein's monster here, aren't I?" he asked.

"Sometimes I worry that, yes, I want more control over you than I should," Jim admitted. Right about now Carolyn would have been scrambling out of the car and calling him every name in the book.

"And it scares the shit out of me that the more power I give you, the better it feels. Man, I know all about power exchange, and I know it's a healthy way of expressing an emotional connection, but I'm just..." Blair stopped.

"Scared at how deep it feels," Jim finished for him. Blair nodded.

"Oh hell, yeah. I mean, I wanted it… and I still want it," Blair hurried to correct himself, "but it does kinda freak me out."

"You're telling me," Jim snorted as he went back to staring at the tree. "But I still want you in my house."

"We'll try it for a week. Maybe two," Blair amended.

"That works," Jim agreed, and silently he promised himself to make sure that Blair didn't want to move out.

"And I pay rent."

"No," Jim said flatly.

"Hey, you are not my sugar daddy."

"No, but you're a student. Most students have someone to help out, some family. I'm not going to take money from you until you graduate." Jim cursed his tongue as he let that one slip, sure that Blair would call him on his assumption that he would still be there when he graduated, but Blair didn't seem to notice. He had once again blushed deeply. Jim smiled as he finally put the clues together. The thing Blair wanted more than anything, the thing he wanted enough to blush with desire at the thought, was a home, a permanent relationship.

Jim reached over and gave a lock of hair a tug. "At the risk of sounding like an alpha dog, I want you to be family, and maybe it won't work out and we'll eventually go our own ways, but I want to try this. I want you to come home to me. I want to yell at you about leaving hair in the drain and fix dinner together and tie you up and torture you until you beg for release," Jim confessed. "That's how I see it working between us."

Blair took a deep, shuddering breath. "Oh man. I want that." He looked over, and Jim could see the raw fear.

"Then trust me?" Jim asked. Blair tightened his hands around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he stared straight ahead.

"Well, I guess the worst thing that could happen is that this falls apart and I end up having my heart ripped out because I'm falling way too fast for my own good."

"I'll catch you," Jim promised. Blair looked over.

"I guess I'll have to trust you to do that," he agreed. Jim could feel an emotion so strong that he couldn't even identify it wash through him. Reaching out with fingers that tingled, he ran them over Blair's cheek.

"Simon's going to think I've taken you off somewhere to ravage you if we don't get back to the station.”
"I wouldn't mind a little ravaging," Blair suggested with a wink.

"When we get home, Chief," Jim promised. "When we get home."

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