Jim shoved the chair back with so much force it toppled to the ground. He paced around the kitchen before returning to the table and righting the chair. He sat down, eyeing the envelope that had just been shoved into the hallway from beneath Blair’s door. He got up and retrieved the envelope with shaking hands. Deciding he needed to be comfortable while confronting the contents of the envelope, he moved to the couch and tore it open. He unfolded the letter and there it was.

Dear Jim.

He stared at the coffee table, contemplating how strange it was that he was sitting alone in his living room reading a kiss off letter from a man who was less than ten feet away from him. His best friend. Separated from him by more than walls and a door. Mostly his doing. His inability to handle intimacy. Or one of many such fear based responses- the code by which he lived his life. The code which cost him everything that mattered.

Okay, he told himself, you’re prepared. You got past the hard part, the Dear Jim, so be a man and a friend and listen to what he has to say. What he can’t say to your face.What you don't give him a chance to say.

He was more scared than he could ever remember being, but he took a deep breath and plunged into the Sandburg zone.

If you thought you were fortunate enough to escape my wrath, man, think again. A quiet wrath anyway. A coward’s wrath maybe. I’m a little upset right now, so I thought maybe if I wrote down what I was feeling it would come out the way I want it to instead of...well...you know, all jumbled and nonsensical.

A little? Jim asked himself as he vividly recalled Blair stomping around the loft trying repeatedly to find the right words with his hands and repeatedly failing before he stomped back into his room and slammed the door so hard Jim thought the glass would shatter. Fifteen minutes later an envelope containing Sandburg’s ‘wrath’ was pushed under that very same door. The door that to Sentinel eyes was still slightly vibrating from the force of being slammed so hard.

Sandburg, I better not have to replace that hinge again. Jim pounded his fist on the coffee table. Damn, what am I thinking? Replace the hinge? I’ll be the luckiest man on planet earth if that’s all I have to do.

Jim took a few deep and restorative breaths in through his nose, just like Sandburg had taught him in that waiting room so many years ago, and opened his senses wide. He rationalized that while he missed the bus big time by not running his ususal preemptive scan when Blair came home, he could still catch the train by performing an ongoing threat assessment. At the very least it would assist him in determining exactly how much damage control was going to be needed later. His extended hearing told him that his guide was listening to some calming instrumental music on his portable CD player and his dialed up scent revealed that Blair was burning some of his aromatherapy candles.

He sagged against the couch in relief. Good. He’s not packing. That has to be a good sign, right?

Tense again, but more hopeful than before, Jim continued reading.

Maybe I foolishly believed that if I pretended long enough that you weren’t doing this to me then it wouldn’t be real.

Pretended, Chief? Or avoided.

I’m not giving up on this, so don’t think I’m going to go away. Oh, well, guess I am, huh?

You go away, Chief and your Blessed Protector’s gonna hunt you down and kick your ass up four flights of stairs until you’re really home, where you really belong.

You want to know something, Jim? You’re the closest I’ve ever come to perfection. Yeah, yeah, I know, you’re far from perfect. Boy, do I ever know that. That’s not what I’m saying though. What I refer to has far more to do with validation. Validation. Yes, Jim, I have used that word before, in an entirely different context. As a human I receive validation from knowing that I’ve made a difference in your life the way you’ve made a difference in mine. That’s how I knew. How I’ve always known. You validate me, man. Every day you give me a reason to want to be Blair Sandburg. To be a better man, well not better, more like me being everything I can be. Great, now I sound like a recruitment commercial.

I validate you? Blair, Blair, Blair, for someone who’s so skilled at observing and interpreting foreign cultures, why can’t you read silence? Why can’t you see by my actions that you are not alone here?

Jim rubbed his forehead, wishing for the millionth time since he met Sandburg that he could actually say what he meant for a change and vice versa- mean what he said.

Jim, this is scary stuff, even for me. Cultural anthropology aside, I’ve kind of spend most of my life faking it.

Not with me Chief, never with me.

Never faked it with you though. Maybe told a tale or two on occasion but you got the one and only unadulterated version of me. You love me for it. Same way I love you, you and your lack of social grace, your clumsiness, and your passion for doing the right thing.

Jim scratched at the whiskers covering his chin. One out of three’s not bad, I guess.

So, scary stuff, this, uh, this,

"Love," Jim called out loudly into the quiet loft, knowing that Blair hadn’t turned the volume on his Walkman up loud enough to block out all sound.

Jim laughed aloud when he heard Sandburg put his head under the covers. The letter was going in a different direction than Jim had anticipated and he liked the turn of events.

Us. You and me. Partnership. Admiration. Loyalty. Companionship. Friendship.

"Lust," Jim clarified.

"Of course," Blair whispered, knowing Jim’s senses would have been on alert since he dramatically stomped off to his room.

"Keep reading, Jim, okay? Please?" he said in his regular voice.

Desire, Jim. Me for you. You for me. You’re a cop. I would have followed you there. If you’d’ve let me.

I know. I’m glad I finally realized you shouldn’t.

This, uh, it’s not gonna be easy. Your career. Your reputation. My lack of either. But when has anything ever been easy for us?

Jim smiled. With a few exceptions, Blair, it’s always been easy with us. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t I say it?

Okay, here it is. I’m not moving out. This is my home too and I have as much right to live here as you. You won’t allow me to be your partner anymore. Not the way I was. Right now I’m not sure what I am to you or who I am to you, but we can work that out. My role in your life. I don’t care what people say and I don’t think you do either. They’ve been saying it from day one, and damnit, I’m sick and tired of being scrutinized and poked fun of for something that’s never happened. Well, Jim, it stops here. If I’m going to continue to be the punchline of someone’s sex jokes, damnit, I’m going to be having the sex I’m being accused of having. I love you and I am not leaving. If I can’t be your partner in work I’m going to be your partner in life. So there. That’s it. I’ve said it. So, what do you think?

"Sandburg, take those headphones off and get your ass out here now."

"No."

Jim ripped the letter to shreds, not caring that he’d eventually have to clean up the pieces that fell between the cushions. He got up and walked over to the closed French doors.

"No?" Jim bellowed as he rapped on the doors. "Open this goddamn door before I break it."

"I’m trying to meditate. What do you want?"

"What do I want? I’ll tell you what I want Sandburg. And make sure you’re listening. I want to retire. Yeah, I’ve put in enough years chasing criminals. It’s bad on the joints and I’m not getting any younger. It’s time to move on. I want a house in the country. Oh, and a dog, a dog would be good. Yeah, I want to retire and move up near the border where I can fish all day long and have a dog. Yeah, me, my dog, fresh stream, clean woods, it’s good for a man’s soul."

"Transcendentalism’s good." Sandburg agreed as he removed the cover and then his headphones, which he carefully placed on his desk.

"You know what’s better?" Jim asked.

"What?"

"Coming home and cooking the catch of the day for my professor man. I imagine he’d be tired after lecturing to high school snots all day long and that he'd like a home cooked meal to come home to. I’d get a little fire going. Maybe light some candles. Figure he might want a foot massage. Some down time to recoup after his hard day."

"Y-y-your professor man? Jim, are you okay?" Blair asked, eyes open wide in surprise as he moved to stand opposite Jim on the other side of the wood and glass barrier that separated them.

"I’m fine, Sandburg. Sounds like you’re having some problems though."

Blair pressed his forehead against the cool glass and took some calming breaths.

"How many glasses of wine did you drink at dinner?" he asked.

"None. Blair, come out. You asked me what I think. I told you. So let’s talk."

"Talk? Me and you?"

"Yes."

"Jim, we’re not good at talking. I mean, I'm great at talking, but with you it's different."

"So we’ll find a language we both speak. I’ll be upstairs when you’re ready. And turn out the lights when you come up. Last month’s electric bill was unacceptable. Every penny we have for a down payment counts."

"Sorry. Yeah, I had to...upstairs?"

Jim turned away from the French doors with a gleam in his eyes. He shook his head in wonder. How had it taken them so long to get here? He paused at the top of the stairs, listening to Blair’s thundering heart and overworked lungs. He carefully undressed and placed his dirty clothes in the hamper before turning down the bed linens and crawling between the sheets he’d laundered that morning. He then turned on the lamp. He might not have trouble seeing in the dark but Blair did. He could be considerate when he wanted to be.

Blair turned off the downstairs lights and stood at the bottom of the stairs for a few minutes contemplating his immediate and long term future. It was then that Jim’s words sunk in fully. Retirement. House in the country. Me and my professor man. Blair ran up the stairs as fast as he could.

"Jim?"

Jim stretched an arm out to Blair who grabbed onto the proffered hand with relief. Jim used his free hand to pat the empty space beside him.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Sandburg, Blair, I can’t explain this any more than you can. Nor can I deny it. I don’t want to. I thought you were dumping me."

"What? What made you think that? No, never mind, don’t answer that. I guess I was acting a bit off tonight."

"Yeah, a bit," Jim pulled Blair down on the bed beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist, drawing him close for a hug. He was surprised when the younger man started laughing.

"Dump you? How could I dump you? We aren’t even together, man."

"I wasn’t asking you to leave. I was asking you to stay. If it seemed like..."

Blair placed a silencing finger over Jim’s lips.

"We really do need those language classes."

Jim placed both hands on Blair’s shoulders and used his mouth and tongue to demonstrate that on some level they could communicate just fine.

When the kiss broke off he asked, "How’s that? For a beginning?"

"I’m inclined to think that verbal conjugation isn’t as tedious as I previously thought."

"Good, ‘cause if you ever dump me..."

"Dump you? Well, I guess I can do that now. Officially. But, lose the house in the country? The dog? The free fish? Fires and foot massages? What am I stupid?"

"No, Chief, you’re the smartest man I know, the best friend I ever could have asked for and the most noble and generous person I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing."

"Jim? That’s nice, but we’re guys, so we can save the romance thing for the afterglow show. Let’s skip to the you fucking me part."

"Oh no, my little Blairbear, you’re going to fuck me first."

Blair flung himself on his new lover, holding on for what was going to be the ride of his life.

"I’m down with that."

THE END

[ Feedback to Landis McQuade ] | [Back to Story List]

Acknowledgements: Thank you Dark Cherry for the beta and thanks to all the mighty mongoosians for being so darn special.