Author's notes: I started this little story to help me over a combination of writer's block and depression at the daunting task of completing the three other huge stories that remain unfinished on my hard drive. Mucho gracias to Heather and Hope for beta reading, as well as to Eriker and Jeana for all their non-stop support and encouragement over the past few months. All mistakes are mine.

One

He tossed and turned for what seemed like the millionth time that night. Back, side, stomach, side, back again. Nothing worked. Stomach with one leg crooked, back with hands behind his head, side with his arms holding a pillow like a lover. He still couldn't find a comfortable position. But it wasn't really his body that was restless, it was his mind.

God, he was tired of wondering about it. One minute it would seem so clear: his partner wanted him. The signals were all there: a touch, a look, that corny little smile that only graced the handsome face for him alone. That same smile that had the power to move mountains and light up entire city blocks.

He couldn't help but shift once again as certain portions of his anatomy instinctively reacted to the memory of that smile for the second time that night. Sighing at the pleasurable feeling of blood rushing to fill rapidly swelling flesh, he shifted onto his back for comfort. Sprawled out across the mattress, he gently placed a hand on his own chest, softly rubbing the tip of a single finger over his heated flesh.

Ever so slowly, he allowed the caresses to wander over his sensitive flesh in a seemingly random pattern. Long moments passed until he grew tired of the game he played with his own body. It wasn't as though his body was unfamiliar with the pattern. After all, he'd spent endless nights tormenting it with the exact same process. His mind would race along, recalling in vivid detail whatever incident had occurred earlier in the day that could be interpreted as a hint or a confirmation that his partner was indeed interested in him in that way. Conditioned by the game, his body would take over the process from his mind, forcing the synapses in his brain to supply it with the images that it needed to reach the conclusion it craved. He craved.

But some nights his mind rebelled, fought his body like a city under siege from an invading force. Instead of flaming arrows or throwing boiling oil over the ramparts, it would call up other memories of instances where the other man seemed to make it perfectly clear that he was not interested in taking their relationship to a deeper, and by default, a more physical level.

And, in that lay the crux of his dilemma.

God save him from mixed signals! One minute his partner would smile, or place a gentle hand on his arm in a gesture of familiar comfort. Those blue eyes would sparkle and dance with love and affection aimed solely at him, making him feel like he was the only thing on the planet that mattered. He lived for those times, no matter how few or far between they seemed to happen.

However, for each and every one of those tender moments, there was a another, harsher memory of indifference. Those same blue eyes would turn cold, impartial; as if studying him like a man in a white coat observing the behavior of a lab rat. Even worse were the times when he knew, just knew that his partner was either annoyed or downright angry with him, but unwilling to vocalize his displeasure. Tit for tat. Quid pro quo. Heaven and hell.

Mixed signals.

'ARGH!' he screamed in mental frustration as his once-growing erection began to dissipate. Again. No matter what he tried, he just couldn't hold onto the images he needed to complete the fantasy without the other, darker memories pouring through the fantasies he created.

Huffing his displeasure as quietly as he could manage, he resigned himself to yet another sleepless night. This would make the third in a row, and he knew that he was ready to start coming apart at the seems. Not even his past experiences with sleep deprivation could prepare him for trying to work for extended periods of time on less than eight hours of shut eye in three days. Today he'd even overheard Simon make a crack about his haggard appearance to his partner, which he then followed up by suggesting that the other man should be taking better care of his roommate. His best friend had wisely refrained from comment, knowing damn well that the object of their discussion could hear every word through the half-opened door of Simon's office.

Simon had sent them both home early, ordering his best team to get some obviously much-needed rest. Judging by the quiet noises from the other bedroom of the loft, his partner had already taken that little piece of advice to heart. Now, if only he could follow suit.

Once more turning over on his side, he sighed deeply, lamenting his situation. If only he knew, one way or the other. At this point he wasn't even sure which possibility terrified him more. God, he was so tired of second guessing every movement and word the two of them shared for deeper hidden meanings. Each night he would sift frantically through the day's events for even the smallest instance to either confirm or deny his suspicions. It left him feeling like a high school boy in the middle of his first crush.

He barely contained the snort of laughter that escaped him with that particular thought. Oh, he could just see it now. 'Simon, do you think he likes me back? Joel, will you pass him a note for me in the morning briefing?' He could almost picture the disgust and mocking on the faces of other members of Major Crimes if this was ever to get out.

Once again, his brain switched gears. Did their opinions really matter? After all, in the long run, there was only one person that could answer his question once and for all, and he was sleeping less than thirty feet away.

'Enough!' he thought frantically. 'I can't take another night of this. I. Have. To. Know.'

In the future, he would always wonder where the impulse came from, yet he followed it through without questioning or examining it closely. Rising from his bed, he allowed himself no other thoughts than simply reaching the destination he had in mind.

They say that time and distance are relative. That theory was surely proven as he made one of the longest journeys of his entire life. His footsteps were barely discernable -- a habit he'd long ago learned out of necessity. As he traversed the steps that connected the lower and upper levels of the loft, he paused to make a sweeping glance across the living room.

The place had changed a lot in the past two years. Gone were the bare walls and spartan furnishings that were purely functional but barely astectically pleasing. They'd both contributed to a certain extent, each leaving their own mark with the smaller momentos. The larger pieces of furniture and lighting they'd chosen together. The end result was a mesh of both of their styles: Clean and succinct for one; comfortable and visually pleasing for the other. Yet, like their personalities, for reasons unknown to everyone, themselves included, it worked.

The trip, which on one hand seemed eternal and on the other felt nowhere near long enough, ended abruptly as he reached the side of his best friend's bed. Quite frankly, he was startled when the other man didn't wake at his approach. Normally, they were both light sleepers. God, the poor man must have been as exhausted as he was.

Slowly, he sat down on the bed near the waist of his partner. As his weight caused the mattress to shift, those mesmerizing blue eyes shot open in surprise before taking a quick glance around the room. Of course he would assume that there was some type of impending danger nearby. Finding his roommate on the side of his bed in the middle of the night was not a normal occurrence.

The sleep-filled voice cracked as the other man said his name questioningly. "What's wrong?"

Silence filled the room as the pause between question and answer lengthened. Finally, he managed to muster all of his fortitude by taking a deep breath and plunging forward before he could doubt this moment of insanity on his part.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked quietly.

"Sure," came the puzzled reply.

Drawing on courage he didn't feel, he placed each of his hands on opposite sides of the bed by his friend's chest and leaned downward. Once again, time seemed unreal as he moved slowly enough to register every single inch that brought him closer to his destination, but quickly enough that the other man didn't have time to comprehend what was about to happen. Overall, the whole thing had a dream-like quality to it, as though he was moving through water.

Without hesitation he brushed his lips against those of his best friend. It was more a symbolic gesture, a mere testing of the waters before venturing into a deeper abyss. That was really all he had initially intended, but like everything that involved the man below him, it quickly spun out of his control.

Acting of it's own volition, his body shifted slightly, bringing more of his weight to bear on his hands and arms. The minor adjustment allowed him to add more pressure, to deepen the still closed-mouthed kiss. Even so, his mind was recording every detail that his senses registered; the unexpectedly soft lips, the barest hint of toothpaste, but more importantly, the first instant his best friend responded to his romantic overture.

At first he dismissed it as a figment of his overwrought imagination. After all, there hadn't been even the slightest bit of movement anywhere in the body haphazardly pinned beneath his own. Yet, there it was; the gentle brush of lips against his own.

The last of his air escaped him in the form of an almost silent sigh. Desperate for air, both men inhaled deeply through their noses in order to extend the tenuous contact between their lips. It went on and on until, at last, it was not enough.

As rational thought had long become a thing of the past, he decided to continue acting on the same impulse that brought him to his friend's bed in the first place. Parting his lips, his tongue ventured forward to brush against the velvet-soft lips of his partner. It took a long moment while the other man seemed to consider the unspoken request, but finally he responded, albeit passively.

Well, it really didn't matter overly much. He'd asked for and been granted permission to explore his friend's mouth, and he'd never been one to pass up a golden opportunity. Calling on reserves of patience he hadn't know he possessed, he slowly pressed forward, carefully running his tongue along the pearly-white teeth.

The kisses continued to grow in intensity as his tongue continued it'progression to plunder the sweet taste of his friend's mouth. When it finally came across it's mate, they tumbled against each other in an erotic dance that raised his passion to an entirely new plain.

Then, like the ebb and flow of a tide, the kiss that had risen so quickly in intensity seemed to slow of it's own accord.

He was standing at a crossroads, unsure whether to move forward or go back. The dream-like quality of the entire situation began to retreat, leaving a growing sensation of uncertainty and unease in it's wake. Little things began to register in his mind, things that were formerly obscured by his rising passion. Things such as the fact that his friend had never once moved anything other than his mouth throughout the whole exchange, and other man hadn't bothered to reciprocate by exploring the contours of his mouth, despite the obvious offer.

Still, his partner never once protested his actions; neither by word nor by deed. And from their experiences together, both in casework and in with their Sentinel project; he knew his friend was never one to suffer quietly, especially when one of his suggestions met with total refusal. A quick rush of air left his lungs as the irony of the situation hit him full on; even now his friend was still sending mixed signals.

A sudden need to see his partner's face overcame him. With a final, tender kiss, he pulled back slightly. The soft moonlight in the room was more than enough to illuminate the face in front of him. The normally beautiful features were marred by an expression that was a mixture of shock, wonder, and puzzlement.

There wasn't a force in the world that could have kept the tender smile off his own face as he slowly stood from his awkward position over his friend. When he moved away, one of his hands brushed across the bare skin of his partner's chest in a parting gesture that was half-caress and half-promise.

The hand trailed away from the soft skin beneath it as he slowly started to move away. As he finally headed back towards his own bed, he spoke softly in the inky darkness of the room.

"Thanks, Jim. That's all I wanted to know."

Finis