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B.J Sandburg Part Fifteen
"No way can she make that shot," Henry said, shaking his head with a grin.
"I got five that says she can," Rafe said, tugging a bill out of his pocket and waving it.
"I'll take some of that action," H grinned.
"Step aside, boys," Blair said smoothly, elbowing past them. He surveyed the table thoughtfully, then picked up the blue cube and chalked the end of the cue slowly.
"Easy pickings," he said scornfully. Dropping a deliberate wink over one shoulder at Jim, Blair turned to the table and lined up the shot.
Jim found himself focusing on the heart shaped rear presented to him in the blue jeans. He would have enjoyed the sight, if not for the fact that every other man in the group was also making the most of Blair's pose.
Resisting the urge to climb on the table and beat his fists on his chest ala Tarzan, Jim gulped down a mouthful of beer.
"Did I tell you about the result in the Forde case?" Simon said absently, and Jim nodded, turning to face him. Only to find the Captain also had his eyes firmly fixed on Blair's swaying butt as he took the shot.
"She made it!" Rafe crowed. He slapped Blair on the back playfully. "She's a shark, hey, B.J?"
"I've been conned," H mourned, pulling a bill from his pocket and slapping it into Rafe's outstretched hand.
"Rafe's buying," Blair announced.
"Rack 'em up again?" Henry suggested. "Gimme a chance to break even."
Blair glanced over to Jim, then nodded. "Sure," he agreed. "It does my ego good to thrash you like this every time we play."
"These Friday night get togethers haven't been the same since B.J joined the team," Simon said amiably. "She's filled that gap left by Sandburg. Don't you think, Jim?"
Jim gazed down into his beer, trying to figure a way to avoid answering. Simon had been running these little probes more and more often lately. It was getting pretty obvious he'd figured out that pair of them were involved, although how was a mystery to Jim.
"She's a good kid," he settled for saying, trying to sound indifferent.
"Must be tough for her, so far from her family."
Jim grunted.
"She seeing anyone?" Simon persisted.
"No idea,' Jim said carelessly. "Why don't you ask her?"
"Trying to pin that girl down is easier said than done. She reminds me of Sandburg, with her polysyllabic excuses and outrageous stories."
Jim smiled, recalling that morning and the long-winded description of some obscure Japanese cult and their sex practices. Then he frowned, recalling the way every man in the squad room had hung on Blair's every word. Maybe he should discourage the young woman from telling such... lascivious stories.
Simon grabbed a handful of peanuts and began tossing them in his mouth. "So, is she still planning on heading back to California when Sandburg gets back?"
"I'm not her keeper, Simon," Jim said impatiently. "Why all the questions?"
Simon stared at Jim arrogantly. "You got a problem with questions, Jim?"
"Only when I feel like I'm being interrogated over a quiet Friday night drink," Jim returned easily, not willing to be drawn into a fight. He knew Simon's techniques well. Probe, goad and then spring his questions on a flustered suspect.
Something was going on over at the bar and Jim's attention was caught. A man and a woman stood close together, the man's hand wrapped so tightly around the woman's wrist that Jim's Sentinel sight could make out the mottled white red of new bruises appearing.
"This is the last time you embarrass me in public like this, you bitch," the man was hissing, lips clenched, veins bulging in his head.
"I think we might have trouble," Jim said quietly to Simon, standing up.
"Let me go!" the woman cried. It was obvious she was slightly the worse from drink. "You're hurting me."
The altercation was now loud enough that everyone in the bar heard it, including Rafe, Henry and Blair, by the pool table.
Jim took a step forward, just as the woman bent over and sank her teeth into the man's arm, earning herself a vicious back slap across her face. She went down hard.
"Damnit," Simon cursed, pushing his seat back with a crash and leaping to his feet.
The man was raising his foot to kick the sprawled woman when out of nowhere a jean clad dynamo appeared, flinging himself against the man and pushing him back against the bar.
"Back off, man!" Blair bellowed.
"Blair!" Jim yelled furiously, elbowing his way through the crowded room. He was moments too late as the enraged man swung clumsily, a round-house blow that would probably have rearranged Blair's perfect nose forever; if it had connected.
But it didn't. Blair was swaying to one side, grabbing the man's arm and using his own momentum against him. Before Jim had even skidded to a halt, the man was on the floor next to the woman he'd put there.
And Blair was standing there with a big grin on his face.
"Smooth move, fool," H said, kneeling on the man's back and wrenching his arm behind his back. "Assaulting a woman in front of four detectives."
"And Xena, Warrior Princess," Rafe grinned, kneeling and helping the bleeding woman to her feet. He gallantly offered her his handkerchief.
"Well done, B.J," Simon said in surprise.
Jim was speechless.
Blair rubbed the back of his head bashfully. "I hate creeps who beat up on women," he muttered.
"You could have been seriously injured, young lady," Simon continued, in lecture mode. "Next time leave it to the boys, hmm?"
Blair rolled his eyes, looking to Jim for support.
Jim was still speechless.
"And you," Simon said, stabbing his cigar in Jim's direction. "You must be too used to that partner of yours taking reckless chances. Did you know you called B.J Blair?"
Jim felt the rest of the blood in his face drain away.
"Call the precinct, get a couple of uniformed guys out here," Simon barked at Rafe, who already had his cell phone out.
"Jim?" Blair said. Jim looked down, feeling a hand on his arm. "Jim, are you okay? What's wrong?"
Jim frowned at the small hand for a moment, then up into Blair's guileless eyes. The genuine confusion in them burned through his numbed shock.
"What's wrong?" he whispered harshly. "You... He..." Jim gestured incoherently at Blair and then at the man who was now handcuffed and in Henry's custody. "You could have been hurt!"
Blair's face cleared. "I'm fine," he said carelessly. "I didn't even think about it actually."
Jim felt anger sizzle through his veins.
"Just as well you showed me those moves though," Blair continued casually. "I didn't even notice how big he was until the wind from his punch was skimming my face."
"We're leaving," Jim pronounced. He clomped back to his seat, pulling his coat off the back and shrugging into it.
"B.J, baby," Henry was crooning. "Don't you know you gotta let the men play the heroes? You're making us look bad."
Rafe wrapped an arm around Blair's narrow shoulders and squeezed her to his side.
It was like a red rag to a bull.
Jim stopped dead, jaw clenched.
"Not our Beej, she just waded in!" Rafe said jubilantly. "Megan will be so jealous."
Simon walked past him and slapped his arm. "Report tomorrow, Jim. If the lady decides to press charges, that is." His tone was cynical, but Jim barely noticed. He was so angry he wouldn't have been surprised if steam was coming out of his ears.
"Let's go, B.J," Jim said through clenched teeth.
They made it out of the bar with much back slapping, not just from Henry and Rafe, but from the other bar patrons. Blair grinned and blushed, waving the comments away nonchalantly.
He quieted down once they were out in the parking lot. "I sense you're not happy with me," he said brightly.
"No. Ya think?" Jim seethed. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"
"Come on, Jim, lighten up," Blair cajoled. "The guy was three sheets to the wind, I knew I could take him."
"What the guy was, was twice your damn size," Jim bellowed. "He could have really hurt you!"
"But he didn't," Blair said simply. "Because you showed me how to take care of myself, remember?"
Jim shook his head, so angry he had to turn away, hands clenched. "I showed you what to do if you were threatened, not what to do when attacking drunken gorillas in bars! You should have waited for one of us."
"One of the boys you mean?" Blair said sarcastically. "Cos I'm just a girl?" He made a prissy face, pursing his lips and fluttering his eyelashes. "If Megan had been there she would have done the same thing."
"That's not the point, Sandburg!"
"What is the point? That you don't trust me to take care of myself any more?"
"Oh, don't bring that into this," Jim hissed. "If the old Blair had done what you just did I'd be just as pissed."
Blair went toe to toe with him. "Bullshit! I may have to take that second class citizen shit from the rest of the world, but damned if I'll take it from you!" With that he stomped over to the truck and stood by it with his arms crossed.
"Don't even think about driving," Blair warned.
Jim tossed him the truck keys without a word.
********
The ride home was silent. Jim was determined that he wouldn't back down on this. He was in the right.
Being in the right was cold comfort an hour later when he lay in his cold lonely bed.
********
Blair gave Jim the cold shoulder the next morning, speaking only when spoken to, and pointedly not looking at Jim.
"Please pass the salt," Blair said politely.
Clenching his teeth Jim passed the salt and Blair liberally shook it over his fried egg.
"This is ridiculous," Jim said sardonically.
"I have to go in and give my statement this morning," Blair said civilly.
"I'm going in myself, I'll give you a lift," Jim bit out.
"Thank you."
********
"Hey, Beej! How could you take down the bad guys without me?"
"Megan! Working on a Saturday?"
"Just some last minute stuff before the trial on Monday. You know how I like to be prepared when I tackle the interesting American legal system."
"Hey, at least our lawyers don't wear gowns and wigs," Blair jibed.
"At least our lawyers don't star in their own TV shows," Megan shot back.
"Hey, Blair said, raising one finger. "Don't knock Judge Judy, okay?"
Megan punched Blair's arm playfully. "Seriously, the whole stations buzzing with news of your kung fu moves last night." She assumed a karate stance. "Care to give me a few tips?"
Jim settled in at his desk, watching their antics sourly. Sure, it was all fun and games now, but if Blair had been seriously injured last night, they'd be singing a different tune. If that punch had hit...
"Hey, ladies!" A newcomer entered the room, hand raised cordially. "Ah, and Detective Ellison, I didn't see you lurking there."
"Morning, Stone," Jim muttered, even more sourly. Just what he needed.
"Hope you're ready to go over your testimony, Megan," Deputy D.A Mark Stone said affably.
"I appreciate you working with me on a weekend," Megan said gratefully.
"You know us dedicated folk in the Justice Department," Stone grinned, running a deliberate hand through his thick, blonde hair. "Through snow and sleet and all that."
"I thought that was the mailman?"
"Well we're all drawing down those huge government salaries," Stone twinkled.
"Oh, please," Jim muttered. If this guy was any more charming baby deer would be coming out of the forest and blue birds would be lighting on his hands.
"I've just got to pop out for a minute," Megan said, collecting her purse and coat from wooden pegs near her desk. "See you downstairs, Mark?"
Mark nodded, and no sooner was Megan out of the room than he was turning on Blair, green eyes focusing on the young woman like a laser. "I heard you kicked some butt last night," he said, deliberately lowering his voice to exclude Jim from the conversation.
Fat chance, pretty boy, Jim thought.
"It was no big deal," Blair said.
"Beautiful and modest," Stone marveled. "Listen, I know it's late notice, but do you have any plans for tonight? A friend gave me some tickets at the last moment, and I'd love to share them with you. That Oscar Wilde play at the Lyric Theatre."
"Oh, that's getting great reviews," Blair said eagerly.
"So." Stone insinuated himself a little closer. "Am I finally gonna get you to agree to go out with me? I'm not above the bribery of a great show."
Finally? Jim thought furiously. How long had this creep been shoveling this horse hockey at Blair?
He held his breath, eyes fixed blindly on his screen while he awaited Blair's answer. The whole of the empty bullpen rung with silence.
"Sorry, Mark," Blair said regretfully. "It is a little late notice."
Stone took it like a man. "Other plans, hmm?" he said.
Typical, Jim thought tartly. Can't believe someone might just not want to go out with him. Weiner.
"I understand." Stone stood up, the knife edge creases of his dark wool slacks falling perfectly back into place. He shot back the sleeve of his sports coat and grimaced. "Duty calls," he said regretfully. "Bye, B.J. Jim," he added as an afterthought, on his way out the door.
Jim sketched a slow scornful salute at the empty doorway. "Wanna bet Megan will end up at an Oscar Wilde play tonight?"
"Lucky girl," Blair said evenly. "I better go make that statement."
"You could have gone out with him, you know," Jim said defensively. "Don't mind me."
Blair just looked at him, cat stare firmly in place.
"All right!" Jim gave in, pushing away from his desk in irritation. "I'm glad you didn't go out with him!"
"I didn't do it for you," Blair said tartly. "He's not my type."
"What is your type?" Jim could no more have stopped himself from asking that than he could have spontaneously changed sex.
"Tall dark and stubborn, apparently," Blair muttered.
That Blair's attitude had softened wouldn't have been readily apparent to anyone else, but Jim had had three years to read Blair's moods. He considered himself an expert.
Relief was heady. It loosened his tongue as no amount of snipes and argument would.
"You were right last night," he admitted lowly, stepping close.
"I know," Blair returned.
"I wouldn't have treated you like that before," Jim continued, taking another step closer.
"I know," Blair repeated, more softly.
"But that's because I wasn't in love with you before," Jim finished, face inches from Blair's.
"I..." Blair faltered to a stop. "You what?"
"Not like I am now, Blair," Jim whispered.
"You... said it," Blair said, looking dazed.
Jim nodded.
"I thought that you felt like I did, but I never thought you'd... Say it again?"
"I. Love. You."
"Blair's eyes seemed huge in his pointed little face as he stared into Jim's eyes. "I seem to remember when I told you that, you threw some bitter little comment at me."
"Feel free to throw one back at me, Chief," Jim murmured, lip curving. He was enjoying this intimate little exchange, the warm wisp of Blair's breath against his lips, the wide delight in his eyes.
"Okay," Blair murmured. There was a moment's silence. "I can't think of one."
"While you're thinking about it..." Jim moved in, closing that last inch remaining between them covering Blair's slightly parted lips with his own.
Love. How simple it all seemed with Blair in his arms.
"Well, well, well."
They sprang apart, turning as one. Captain Simon Banks stood framed in the bullpen doorway, cigar between his teeth, satisfied grin on his face.
"Sprung."
********
"What's the worst he could do?" Blair appealed.
"Take away your ride along status?" Jim suggested.
"He wouldn't do that," Blair said confidently. "He likes me."
"And we're breaking every rule in the book by getting involved," Jim pointed out. "Besides, it's gonna be hard enough to explain when B.J disappears without a trace next May, without people knowing we've been involved."
"Actually," Blair said calculatingly, "It might work out in our favour. With your track record with women, people will just add me to your list of losers."
Jim narrowed his eyes and stared off into the distance. "You know, if I ever had any ego to speak of, it's gonna be whittled away by the time you're done."
"Hey, I am a woman. That's my job. Speaking of which. " He raised his brows and reached into the pocket of his nubby robe, pulling out a gift wrapped box. "This seemed like the right time to bring these out."
Jim knew the size and shape of that box, even if it was covered in purple paper with big yellow daisies on it.
"Chief, are you sure?"
"Are you?"
In answer Jim took the box and ripped off the shiny paper, opening it and pulling a foil wrapped condom out. "I don't want to hurt you," he confessed.
Blair stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Jim's waist, laying his head against Jim's chest. "Did I ever tell you the weirdest thing about all this girl stuff?"
Jim wrapped his arms around his lover, resting a cheek against fragrant curls. "Blair, I've been with you through all the weird stuff."
Blair huffed a laugh. "Not all of it," he said slyly. He tilted his head back. "No, it's this, love," he murmured. "Being so small in your arms, and loving it. Feeling your strength overwhelm me, your muscled arms keeping me safe."
Jim drew in an awed breath. What a man this was! To admit this in such a quiet, proud voice, holding his head up, looking him in the eye.
"You're a better man than I'll ever be," Jim said hoarsely. He reached around and wrapped one strongly muscled arm under Blair's knee, lifting him high in his arms and cradling him close. Blair hooked an arm around Jim's neck and nestled so they were cheek to cheek.
Jim held him for long moments, savouring this closeness. Then he turned and carried him up the stairs.
********
When Jim had imagined this moment, it had always been coloured by the heat of passion. Sweating limbs, ragged moans, slick grasping hands. But that had been when all this began, when the drive was mostly passion, only tempered by the loving friendship they'd always shared.
Now it was love that guided his hands, stroking Blair's face, skimming over sooty lashes, tracing sculptured lips. Love that allowed him to patiently build their passion to a peak, bringing Blair over it with practised fingers, holding him close while he sobbed out his joy and then relaxed, boneless in Jim's arms.
And it was love that guided him when Blair's breathing had evened out, and he was looking at Jim with languorous pleasure, breasts gently heaving, eyes aglow. Jim leaned over and captured relaxed lips, tasting Blair, dipping his tongue again and again into warm sweetness. Lips still moist he blazed a trail to eager breasts, nosing the soft swells, licking the tender aureole, delicately taking the rosy nub between his lips.
One finger made a careful foray, stroking between Blair's legs, finding his already swollen clit and pushing up firmly.
"No, Jim," Blair cried, hands capturing Jim's wrist. "Inside me, please. I need you inside me."
With gentle reverence Jim parted Blair's legs, kneeling between them as he'd done a hundred times before, stringing a necklace of kisses up one pale golden thigh and down the other.
"My pleasure, Chief," he breathed. He fumbled for the condom, ripping it open with his teeth.
Blair reached out with trembling hands, taking the package and pulling out the rubber ring. "Let me," he said huskily. "I'm considered something of an expert."
Jim tightened his muscles, seeking control on a cosmic level as Blair rolled the sheath over his rampant hardness, rubbing down, smoothing carefully.
"Enough," he finally gritted out, grasping the eager fingers. "Now."
Blair trembled, mouth open on a silent cry as Jim stroked his sheathed tip up the honeyed crease, feeling the moist heat engulf his sensitivity. He pressed, all his senses on-line for any sign of distress in his lover, finding nothing but moaning response.
A moment's slight resistance, and then he was sinking in, an inch at a time, pausing to allow Blair's trembling muscles time to adjust. Finally he was in and their bodies were flush, Blair's legs automatically lifting, thighs hugging Jim's hips.
"God, Jim," Blair panted.
"Are you okay?" Jim breathed, straining for control.
"You're in me," Blair gasped. His eyes locked on Jim's, their naked openness heart breaking. "God, Jim, you're inside me."
"Always, baby," Jim promised, leaning forward and capturing a kiss. Blair arched beneath him and Jim groaned, thrusting forward a little in an instinctive movement.
"Oh," Blair breathed in delight. "Again."
Obediently Jim slid back a little then thrust forward again, the move sending chills of pleasure up to his brain.
"More," Blair demanded.
So Jim gave him more, slipping his leash a little, thrusting in and twisting a little on the upstroke. Blair soon found his rhythm, arching into the strokes, legs wrapped around Jim's narrow hips, hands grasping broad shoulders.
Then Jim wasn't thinking any more, not about technique, not about gentleness, not about anything but his driving need to bring this to its natural end, to spill himself in Blair and bind them together forever.
With a last thrust it was all there in his hands, Blair was arching and crying out beneath him, and Jim was coming, endlessly, perfectly.
Forever.
********
Jim ran the warm water, wringing out a clean wash cloth tightly. He carried it back upstairs, grinning a little at the sight of Blair spread out bonelessly on their bed.
"All right, Chief?"
"Urg," Blair mumbled.
Jim patted his head, stroking a sweat damp curl back from his high brow and dropping a kiss on it. "You're all right," he reassured him.
"I'm... brain fried," Blair admitted. He wriggled. "And a little sore."
"That's what the wash cloth is for," Jim said, folding it into a square and laying it between Blair's legs.
"Umm," Blair sighed.
Jim stretched out on his side, head on his hand. "Was it... Was it what you expected?"
Blair tugged a sheet up, snuggling down on his pillow. "It was intense," he analysed. "But beautiful, you know?"
"I know," Jim smiled, stealing a kiss.
Blair's eyes were heavy. He yawned, pink tongue curling. "Jim?"
"Hm?"
"I love you too."
Jim grinned. "I know."
End of Part Fifteen.
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