Mercury In Retrograde
by Silk
Part 2
Blair meant to kiss Jim
only once, but the softness of his lips belied the
granite-hard visage he
presented to the world. Jim's hands sank into Blair's
silky dark hair as he
pressed the younger man back against the door. Blair's
mouth opened, and Jim
plunged his tongue inside, tasting everything from the
minty toothpaste he used
to the last vestiges of the herbal tea he had
reluctantly chugged down
in the interest of settling his stomach.
When Jim finally
released him, Blair sagged against the door, his vivid blue
eyes half-shut.
"Wow."
"Wow yourself,
Chief. It takes two to tango."
Blair gulped. "No
tango this morning, Jim. No time, dammit."
"You're not...you
know...sore?"
"Hell, yeah. But it
was *wonderful*, Jim, and I can't wait to do it again."
Blair's natural
enthusiasm was like balm to Jim's oft-tortured soul.
Jim gave his lover a
bemused smile, having only recently realized that he
was stroking him, much
the way one might cosset a favorite pet. But Blair
was no *pet*. A pet was
nearly the same thing as a sidekick, and Jim gave up
thinking of Blair that
way long ago. Sidekicks were not equals, and Blair
was not only his peer,
but in some areas, he surpassed Jim. Which was very
much as it should be.
They complemented one another.
"Are you sure you
have to run *all* those errands today, Chief?" Jim asked,
bending over to allow
his tongue to lave the corner of Blair's mouth. That
delicious, full-lipped,
meal-for-the-senses mouth.
Blair groaned.
"Umm...*someone* needs to shop, Jim, or we could
just...go...hungry...."
"We could go
shopping later, Chief."
Um, Jim, I don't know
how to break it to you, but I have big plans for you
and me and that bed
upstairs later. But the way you're massaging my mouth
with your tongue makes
me think that perhaps...I should reconsider. A man
has to be open to *all*
the options.
"Meet me for lunch,
Chief," Jim said as he rubbed his cheek against Blair's.
"Lunch? I can do
that," Blair replied breathlessly.
Blair reached out with
one hand to caress Jim through his pants, feeling the
growing arousal that hid
out of sight behind the zipper. "I've got a better
idea, Jim."
This time it was Jim's
turn to groan as he restrained himself from thrusting
into Blair's hand. A
hand that was so warm, he didn't need Sentinel touch to
know that Blair was
every bit as aroused as he was. "Idea?"
"Meet me here and
we can make love."
"You want me to
skip lunch?" Jim asked incredulously, knowing his penchant
for junk food was
well-known.
Blair's eyes narrowed on
Jim's face and he beckoned with one finger crooked
in Jim's direction. When
Jim was close enough, Blair cupped his hands over
Jim's ear and whispered,
"If you fuck me at lunchtime, I'll drive you to
Wonderburger
myself."
Jim pulled back, his
blue eyes all wide-eyed and innocent. "Are you offering
me a bribe, Chief?"
"Absolutely. Is it
working?"
Jim smiled serenely.
***
By the time that Blair
finished enlightening more than one hundred
entry-level Anthro
majors about the wonders of his field of study, he was
exhausted. He pinched
the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses further
up, where they belonged.
Suppressing the urge to yawn expansively, Blair
gathered up his lecture
notes, stuffed them into his ubiquitous backpack and
headed towards the
overgrown closet that passed for his office.
The phone was ringing
just as he fitted the key into the lock. Afraid that
he might be missing a
call from Jim, Blair hurriedly dropped his backpack
onto the floor near the
door and ran. Picking up the receiver, Blair panted,
"Hello?"
"Hi, Chief. How did
class go?"
A beatific smile
transformed the anthropologist's face. "Fine." Pause. "I
miss you, Jim."
"Same here."
Blair sighed, realizing that Jim was undoubtedly in the middle
of the bullpen,
surrounded by fellow cops, making it difficult, if not
downright impossible, to
speak freely.
"We still on
for...lunch?" Blair paused significantly.
"Wouldn't miss it
for the world, Chief."
"Cool."
"Bye, Chief."
"Bye, Jim. Love
you," he added before the older man hung up, knowing that he
couldn't reply or even
acknowledge what he said.
But saying the words,
even just to himself, made him feel warm inside. He
was *loved*. He was very
*much* loved.
***
Blair was ankle-deep in
his own paperwork when the phone rang again.
Thinking it must be Jim,
Blair picked it up without a qualm. "Jim?"
A low, dark laugh broke
the silence on the other end of the phone.
Blair felt a shiver
skitter up and down his spine. Must be kids. Playing a
prank.
"Hello?
Hello?"
When no one answered,
Blair abruptly hung up the phone, trying to quell his
racing thoughts. There
was nothing to be afraid of. It was a crank call.
That's all.
***
By the time that Blair
entered the bullpen at Major Crimes, he had forgotten
the phone call. Every
cell in his body was clamoring for release at the
hands of his lover. He
meant to see that they got exactly what they wanted.
As soon as possible.
The moment he saw Jim,
Blair broke into a big smile. Much to his surprise,
Jim scowled.
His brows knitting
together into a huge frown, Blair wondered what was
wrong. "Hey,
Jim."
"Sandburg."
Ouch. *That* was part of
what was wrong. He understood that Jim wasn't ready
to come out to his
fellow cops at MC, but...*Sandburg*? Come on, that was
one giant step forward,
but at least three giant steps back.
"Jim?"
Jim glanced around the
bullpen, as if trying to assess who was watching, who
was listening, who was
even paying attention to them. No curious looks. No
overt signs of
eavesdropping. Nevertheless, it was a skittish Jim Ellison
who grabbed Blair by the
arm and pulled him behind him until they reached
the break room.
"Sandburg,"
Jim hissed, "do you *have to* look so fucking happy to see me?"
Blair shrugged.
"I'm always happy to see you, Jim."
"You're
deliberately misunderstanding what I'm saying here. You'll make
people suspicious if you
keep looking at me like you want to eat me with a
spoon."
Blair kept what he
really wanted to say off his face, knowing it would
probably not be
well-received. "What's going to make people suspicious is
one thing, Jim. You're
having second thoughts about *us*, aren't you?"
"No!"
Jim ached to touch
Blair, but it was way too dangerous. His hands clenched
and unclenched at the
air. "We just need to be discreet."
***
Jim stacked the last of
his paperwork in his "out" tray. Simon promised Jim
that if he forewent
lunch and worked straight through, he would give him the
rest of the day off. To
Jim, that sounded like a much better deal than
rushing home to have a
quickie. How unsatisfying that sounded in comparison
to having enough time to
wine and dine Blair. If Simon only knew.
Unbeknownst to Jim,
however, Blair was doing a slow burn. He changed his
whole schedule around,
just to be with Jim, and Jim, the big lug that he was
sometimes, took it for
granted.
"Are you done
*now*, Jim? Blair asked, his stomach rumbling audibly.
"Almost, Sandburg.
Be with you in a minute," Jim said absently, not even
realizing that he'd been
avoiding Blair for as many hours as he'd been there
and now, *now*, he was
treating him like a fucking visitor.
"Be with you in a
minute? Fuck you, Jim!" Blair blurted out, forgetting his
backpack in his rush to
leave.
Heads turned. Those same
heads stared at Jim. But not to commiserate. They
were accusing. Silently.
What the fuck did you do to the kid, Jim? Jim
winced. He could just
hear them.
Simon's bellow
interrupted his reverie. "Ellison! My office! Now!"
***
"Sit down,
Detective."
Ohhh, it was going to be
one of *those* kinds of lectures. Jim gritted his
teeth. "I'd rather
stand, sir."
"And I said, sit
down! What part of that did you not understand?"
Jim reluctantly sat. On
the edge of his chair. He turned up his hearing, and
he could tell that Blair
was still in the building. Somewhere nearby.
Probably the men's room.
His heartbeat was way too fast. The same with his
respirations. But he
wasn't in any kind of danger. Just emotional distress.
Just? Jim grimaced
inwardly. He was on the verge of fucking up again, and
every sense he had told
him to find Blair and make things right. As soon as
possible.
"What's *wrong*
with you?"
"Excuse me,
sir?"
"Oh, knock it off,
Jim. This is me and you. What did the kid do? Piss you
off by making you eat
tofu or something?"
"With all due
respect, sir, it's personal. And I happen to *like* tofu," Jim
added, the lie coming
surprisingly easy to his lips.
Simon wasn't letting go
of the topic. He sensed a mystery here, and he
wanted it solved. But
his badgering and his seemingly endless questions
enraged Jim. To the
point of losing control.
Blaming Blair for this,
especially in absentia, seemed like a cowardly, even
unworthy thing to do.
But Jim was not ready to let his personal life become
fodder for the gossip
mill at the PD. Blaming Blair hardly seemed to make a
ripple in the undercurrents
of all that rage at all.
Storming out of Simon's
office, Jim strode into the bullpen, his blue eyes
searching,
searching...found you! To everyone else, Blair looked like
someone had been running
his poor ass ragged all day. To Jim, he was both
the source of his pain
and the remedy.
Not caring that the
bullpen was filled with fellow officers, some of them
close friends, who were
still finishing up the day's work, Jim purposefully
seized Blair in a
vise-like grip, backing him up against the edge of his
desk.
Jim was so intensely
focused on Blair, he didn't register Simon coming up
behind him. Or the
anxious glances that his friends sent in Blair's
direction. "Simon
thinks I'm *avoiding* you, Sandburg! *He* thinks I should
be *nicer* to you!"
"Well, how's this
for *nice*, Sandburg?" Jim ground out, right before he
kissed Blair senseless.
In front of Simon. And Megan. Not to mention Rafe,
Brown, Taggert....
Blair barely had time to
squeak, "Jimmm!!!"
When Jim finally
wrenched his mouth away from Blair's, he was breathless.
The rest of the MC squad
was speechless. And about equally divided between
applauding and cheering.
"There! Is that
better?"
Simon smiled.
"Much."
Jim stared at his
superior, his mouth dropping open. "It is?"
"Shit, Jim, you
always were an overachiever. All I wanted was for you to be
*nice* to the kid, not
*eat* him like he was dinner. What *will* people
think?"
Blair hid a smile, but
he couldn't prevent a chuckle from escaping. Jim
cuffed him. Gently.
"We'll think what
we always thought, sir," chimed in Taggert. "Some things
are just meant to be
together. Like hot dogs and sauerkraut."
"Now *there's* a
charming image. Thanks."
Megan grinned.
"Sweet and sour."
"Milk and
cookies," said Rafe.
Brown offered his own
unique contribution, "Sprouts and pita bread," and
everyone groaned in
unison.
Simon allowed himself
one more smile before issuing a terse, "Back to work,
people." He leaned
close to Jim and said, "Why don't you two take the rest
of the day off, like I
promised?"
Jim gave him a weary
smile in return. "You're a prince, sir."
As Simon walked away,
Jim picked up Blair's backpack and fitted it onto his
Guide's shoulders.
"Let's go home, Chief."
And as the couple left
the bullpen, Taggert laughed to himself. He could
swear that Blair's last
words to Jim were, "Oh, you are *so* busted, man.
Just wait till I get you
where I want you."
Jim's reply was
inaudible.