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Crisis. His nipple piercing had closed over. It was just about the last straw. It had been bad enough when Flick called to say there was a party Blair just had to attend, and since Jim was out of town for the weekend, it was the perfect opportunity to catch up on some old friends. Bad enough that it sounded like Flick was chiding him for letting old friendships slip since he and Jim had become a couple. Then Blair had looked in his closet to choose something to wear and realized he didn't own one item that didn't look like it had been picked out by somebody's mother. Not his mother, but somebody's. Plain white tee's, an abundance of earth colors, khaki ,khaki for god's sake, pants galore. When the hell had he started shopping like a boring old fart? When had he stopped being an individual and started dressing like a Jim clone? Not that that meant Jim was a boring old fart, not in the least. But he was a generation older than Blair, and a detective in the Cascade Police Department. A certain standard of decorum was expected from him clothing-wise. But Blair was not a cop, not even a vice cop as so many seemed to conclude. He was a 28 year old grad student whose wardrobe was in serious need of help. Unfortunately his bank balance was also in a similar state of distress, so new clothes were out of the question. In desperation Blair had started at the front of his closet and pulled out every shirt he owned, taking the opportunity while he did to separate some of Jim's clothes that had managed to find their way in there. Right at the very back he'd found his treasure trove, and reverently he had pulled out his colored vest and white shirt, dubbed his pirate shirt by an old girl friend. This was the outfit he had been wearing the day Jim had crashed into his office and his life. This was his favorite outfit. Blair had hung them out on the fire escape outside his room to blow some fresh air and some life into them and then jumped into a quick shower to freshen himself up. It was after the shower and his close shave that he attempted to fit his nipple ring back in and realized the piercing had closed over. Blair sat down on the toilet seat and stared at the silver ring in dismay. When was the last time he had worn it? Months ago? A year or more? After Jim had joshed him about it that time? When had he decided to take it out? Had he consciously decided to leave it out? And why? 000 The party was going on full bore, and Blair watched it from the bar, sipping his Mexican beer and bobbing his head automatically to the music. He watched with a smile as Flick danced his way over to him. "S'up, man?" Flick called over the music. Blair contented himself with a shrug. "Missing Jimbo?" Tilting the bottle Blair took a deep swig and wiped his mouth,
eyes averted from Flick's. "Come on, buddy," Flick scrubbed a hand over his red dreads and tugged on an earring. "Are you mad at me cos I guilted you into comin' to the party? You could have said no, you know that." Blair studied the long necked bottle in his hand before putting it on one of the nearby stainless steel counters. "It's not that. I wanted to come." "Then why so gloomy? Is it Jim?" Blair looked at Flick in the dim kitchen lights, his wild red hair, his calico braided shirt and tight black pants. "Flick, do you think I've become..." Blair broke off, not even sure himself what he thought he had become. It was more what he thought he wasn't any more. "Become what?" Flick frowned at his quiet friend. "Duller? Dumber? Dutch? What?" Blair turned away and braced himself against the counter. "I don't know!" he said in frustration. "I just know I've changed, that's all. And I don't know why!" Flick placed a gentle hand on Blair's shoulder, angling his head so he could look at his friends face. "Everybody changes, Blair. What's worrying you?" "My nipple ring wouldn't go in," Blair muttered. Flick bit his lip in an obvious attempt not to laugh, fortunately Blair was facing away from him and didn't see it. "And?" Flick prompted evenly. "And all my clothes are boring, and I am so out of touch with my friends and I don't remember the last time I went to a party, at least one where I wasn't there as a police observer..." Blair's outburst faded away and he turned to his friend. "I sound like a total dick, don't I?" "Yeah," Flick agreed thoughtfully, then laughed as Blair reluctantly smiled. "No, you don't sound like a dick. But you do sound a bit silly. I mean, no-one told you to stop wearing your nipple ring. Did they?" Flick finished uncertainly. "No," Blair assured him. "And did Jim ever say anything about your clothes? Something to make you self-conscious?" "I don't think so." "Well, the parties have been here, even when I was out of the country, there was nothing to stop you from going to them, was there?" "I was busy, practically working two jobs," Blair defended, then relented as Flick studied him relentlessly. "No, I guess there was nothing stopping me. I still found time to date." "Then why do you think you've changed?" "You been taking psychology?" Flick tapped Blair's forehead smartly. "Just answer the question." "I... I just seemed to drift away from all that." Blair said thoughtfully. "There seemed so many other things to do. And when I shopped for new clothes I guess I was just trying to fit in with everybody else." "Everybody?" "Okay, Jim," Blair admitted. "Well, now you have Jim," Flick pointed out in a reasonable tone. "Wrapped around your little finger, I might add. Next time you shop just go with the urge to buy whatever you like." "I guess," Blair traced a finger over the worn old steel bench. "Do you think Jim is too old for me?" "The fact that you ask the question means you do." Flick fought to keep the dismay from his face and failed miserably. Blair saw it and rushed to reassure his friend. "No, Flick, it's okay. I love Jim with all my heart and he loves me. Nothing is gonna change that any time soon." Flick placed a hand over his heart and sighed dramatically. "Whew, don't do that to me! Just when I think I've got you settled with a nice guy who's gonna take care of you, you try to scare me into getting gray hair." "Maybe that's why I feel this way," Blair mused. "Cos I'm settled. And I never thought I would be." "Happens to us all, old buddy." Flick clapped a hand on Blair's shoulder. "It's not gonna happen to me, of course. I have a million journeys and a million adventures before I settle down with one or two lucky girls." "That's what I thought. And then I figured even when I found somebody we would keep right on moving, you know? Never even wanted kids to tie me down. A pair of rolling stones, that's what I figured." "Well, you don't have to worry about kids anyway," Flick teased. "But jees, Blair, don't you get enough excitement working with supercop Ellison? I never know what I am gonna hear about you next. Shot one day, a hostage the next, beating up bad guys with gay abandon." "Ha ha," Blair said politely. "I am not talking about lack of excitement. Am I? Oh hell." Blair banged his fist down on the bench and spun around. "I don't even know what I mean." "You're just missing your lover," Flick said wisely. "And getting restless. My prescription is to go out there and dance your ass off. Drink mucho beer and come home with me in a cab. Come morning things will look different, you'll see." "Yeah, hung over," Blair agreed, letting himself be led back out into the club, now almost entirely filled as the private party swung into high gear. Flick shoved another beer into his hand and he drank recklessly. Maybe it was just some crazy spring fever. Jim would be back in two days, and once he was in his lover's arms the world would look very different indeed. 000 As promised the world looked very different indeed to Blair when he woke up the next morning. It tasted different too. "Ugh." Blair blinked his gummy eyes and grimaced as he tasted the inside of his mouth. Flick's bed was way too soft and the whole room stunk of those cheap joss sticks Blair had given up on back in high school. What the heck was Flick thinking, burning that stuff? With a heartfelt groan Blair opened his eyes fully and sat up in bed. That was when he realized he was not in Flick's bedroom. He was not even in Flick's apartment. "Oh no..." Blair breathed out as he took in the futon bed he was sitting on, the cheap carpet and tie dyed calico wall hanging covering patched plaster walls. "Where the hell am I?" Shock number two came when Blair realized he was naked, only a thin cotton sheet between him and the world. Fortunately his clothes were on the floor nearby, crumpled in a pile where he had obviously dropped them when he stripped for bed. But whose bed? Hurriedly Blair shook out the garments and pulled them on, grimacing at the old cigarette smell that permeated them. Quickly tugging his shoe laces tight Blair tied the knots and stood up, feeling the world sway sickly around him. The strong incense smell and the stale smoke stink of his clothes hit his stomach but he forcefully willed away the urge to vomit. His over riding instinct was to get the hell out of here. Beads hung in half broken strands from the door way, and Blair brushed them aside, trying not to make any noise as he crossed the threshold into the sitting room. There was little doubt this was a students apartment, wooden planks and bricks made up a cheap set of shelves, bulging with text books and fat scented candles. Throw rugs and cushions decorated the floor and a long ancient couch bulged in the middle of the room, covered by another calico printed cloth. The place was quiet, and a quick glance at his watch showed Blair that it was past 10. Everybody was out. His coat was hanging on a hook by the door and a quick check showed his keys and wallet still intact. And there on the table by the door were two items Blair spotted before he could stop himself, his eyes taking in the details before he could help it. One was an envelope with a name typed on it. Tracy Martin. The other was a small framed picture of a young woman, smiling at the camera shyly. Small fair and painfully young, Blair knew instinctively this was Tracy Martin. "Oh god." Clutching his coat to his chest Blair leaned against the back of the door, head on a forearm. Dim memories of the night before floated through his mind. Dancing wildly with Flick and some girls. Throwing back beer after beer. Holding slim hips between his hands while he attempted the Lambada to the laughing encouragement of his friends. Smiling into a pretty pointed face framed by fair hair... "Oh god, what have I done?" 000 The apartment turned out to be on Preston Road, right in the heart of the cheap student housing district. It was an unwelcome blast from the past to emerge from a building unable to remember ever entering it and Blair felt his face burn with shame as he trotted down the street, praying for a cab to pass by. All he needed was to be spotted leaving some students digs at 10 am on a Saturday morning. A few minutes later he saw a cab and hailed it, sinking down into the back seat with a sigh of relief. All he wanted was to get home and out of these clothes. He wanted a shower and a shave and a hug from his lover. Jim. Blair rubbed at his face briskly, blinking back tears. He couldn't afford to break down, he couldn't afford the tears that were clogging his throat and blinding him. If he let those tears escape now he would curl up in ball and cry himself dry, and he would not allow himself that release. He did not deserve it. Blair was at the front door of the loft fumbling with his keys when a horrible thought struck him. What if Jim were home? What if even now he was behind that door, waiting with open arms and an open heart to greet his lover, his faithless traitor of a lover? Finally Blair could not contain the tears any more, they spilled out from his eyes and down his cheeks, dripping off his stubbled chin and onto the front of his crumpled shirt. Leaning his head against the door he waited in silent guilt for it to open, for Jim to see him, for the light of love in his eyes to turn to pain and then hatred as he realized what his lover had done. Long minutes later he realized Jim was not home, his Sentinel senses would have had him at the door by now if he had been. It was almost a disappointment when Blair finally managed to open the door and he was greeted by the silent loft, exactly as he had left it. How much easier it would have been to get this over with now, for it to be finished so he didn't have to spend the next two days waiting for Jim to come home so he could break his heart. Blair turned on the cold water and stepped beneath the punishing spray, leaning forward and feeling the shock of the cold water pouring down over his skull. One item at a time he stripped off his clothes, dropping them carelessly onto the tiles. He would never wear them again. Finally he twisted the hot tap and lathered up, scrubbing as hard as he could at his skin, leaving it red and tingling. He washed his hair twice, satisfied finally that he could no longer smell the cigarette smoke or the cheap incense. Shaving in front of the bathroom mirror Blair contemplated his own reflection soberly. Jim would probably still be able to smell the stale scents. Would he be able to taste that girl on him too? Would it even matter once Blair told him what had happened? Would he ever want to taste his young lover again after that? With a frown Blair again went over what he remembered of the night before. Dancing with Flick and the girls, and then just the one girl. Pale and slim, my god, how old was she anyway? What if she was a minor? Blair rinsed away the remains of the foam on his skin and made a disgusted face at himself in the mirror. Was he to add breaking the law to breaking his lovers heart? Blair dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, and desultorily set about making himself a cup of coffee, sitting at the kitchen table and staring down into the pale brew, feeling his mind clearing a little as his emotions and his stomach settled. Perhaps nothing had happened between him and this girl? After all, he had been drunk enough to have memory gaps, that probably meant he was drunk enough to be incapable in bed too. With a frown Blair catalogued his own body. He was not sore, or even tender, the way he sometimes was after a night of sex. His body didn't have that morning after feeling that was so hard to define. But even if nothing had happened, what did that really change? He wasn't a child to measure betrayal by degree. If he had gone home with that pale pretty creature with the intent to make love to her, that was betrayal. It was enough to damn him. But was it enough to break Jim's heart over? What would be the point? To assuage Blair's own uneasy conscience? On the other hand, if he had slept with her Jim had a right to know. They had both agreed to regular testing for HIV and so far both had been clean. They still used condoms, although occasionally they were not as diligent as they should be, both feeling safe in this monogamous relationship. If there was any chance that he had had unprotected sex last night then Jim would have to be told. No way would Blair risk his lover's life to keep this bitter little secret. So, that meant Blair would have to see this girl again, to look her in the eye, to ask her straight out what had happened. To visit the scene of the crime. The phone rang shrilly and Blair jumped a mile. The answering machine was on, after another couple of rings it would pick up. What if it were Jim? How could he possibly speak to Jim now, with this sword hanging over his head? Before the third ring Blair had picked up his coat and swung open the front door, swinging it locked behind him as the machine picked up and the recorded message began to play. We are not home right now... On the drive over Blair's mind began playing scenarios in his head. The first one was the most tempting at this point. Tracy Martin would tell him nothing had happened and he could put this behind him forever. It would be a lesson he would take to heart, a feeling he would never forget, and if he was ever ever tempted to cheat on his lover at any time in the future he would remember what this felt like and any desire to cheat would fade like the mist in the morning. Even as he comforted himself with this scenario Blair knew it would never happen. He couldn't keep something like this from Jim, even now he felt that Jim would know as soon as he saw him that something world shattering had happened. Surely his face must show all he had been through today? Blair felt as if he had been changed at some vital level by this mess, and there would be no hiding that from Jim. So, Scenario two. Telling Jim that he had gotten drunk and slept with someone else. Blair pushed the thoughts away with a painful breath. No way was he gonna even play that little scenario out before he had to. A man could only stand pain like that once in a life time. Pulling the Volvo up in front of the dilapidated building Blair sat for a long moment, eyes gazing back into the far recesses of his mind. Of all the times he had fucked up in his life, and there had been a bunch of them, he had never fucked up quite so badly. All those other times the only one he had been hurting was himself. Since he was 16 he had basically been on his own, making his own choices and decisions and bearing the brunt of them himself. But now here he was, fucking up all over again, only this time he was playing with someone else's life, hurting the person who was most important to him in the whole world. With a deep breath Blair closed his eyes and gathered all his courage. He had to do this, not for his own sake, but for Jim's. For Jim he would hold his head up and face the consequences of his drunken actions, for Jim he would do what had to be done, and when he had confessed he would get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness, for one more chance. Even if he didn't deserve it. It was just past one o'clock when Blair paused outside the door of the apartment he had left just a few hours earlier, music was playing inside and he could hear voices. For just a moment Blair was overcome by the desire to turn and run, surely this could be kept a secret between him and his conscience, surely no-one else had to know? Before he could give in to his cowardice Blair raised a hand and knocked on the door. And a moment later it was opened by the pale pretty girl from his memory and the photo by the door. "Well, there you are!" she exclaimed. Her voice was high and sweet and Blair winced internally. She couldn't possibly be more than 18 years old, if that. "It's a bit much to take advantage of someone's hospitality that way and then split without so much as a thank you," the girl teased. An apology crowded into Blair's throat, pushed there by the guilt in his heart. What if she thought he was in love with her? What if she got pregnant or something? It was just as well Blair was holding onto the door jamb a moment later when Tracy called over her shoulder. "Flick! Blair's here!" Flick's raggedy red head appeared out of a door way opposite. "Man, you had us worried. I been phoning the loft since we got home." "Flick?" Blair gasped. "When we left you were dead to the world." Flick crossed the room, drying his hands on a dish towel. "When we got back and you weren't here I thought you were mad at us or something." "Why would I be mad?" Blair released his death grip on the door jamb and stepped into the room. Hope was starting to soar in his heart but he clamped it down, he was not out of the woods yet. "Cos you let me get totally shit-faced and then abandoned me?" "I did not abandon you!" Flick's tones were outraged. "I was shit-faced right alongside you! And when Laura and Tracy said we could crash here I practically carried you two blocks! That's gratitude for you!" Flick finished with a huff. Making the connection in his brain between the club they had partied in last night and this place took about one second in Blair's brain. It was just around the corner! Two blocks as Flick had pointed out! "We slept on the futon." Blair stated with a sudden surety, jabbing a pointing thumb in the direction of the incense scented bedroom. "Well yeah, why, did you wake up somewhere else?" The puzzled look in Flick's eyes faded as realization sparked. "You don't remember, do you?" Tracy gurgled with laughter and pulled the dish towel from Flick's hand, flicking him with it on the way past. "You two are the limit," she giggled, "Hey, Laura, Blair's back," she called into the kitchen. "So I heard." Another girl appeared in the doorway and Blair immediately recognized her as a student in one of his classes. "Hi, Blair." "Laura." Now it was all falling into some kind of place and Blair sank down onto the old couch with a sigh that came straight from his soul. Realization was a clean surgical strike to his heart, atomizing the mass of guilt and self loathing that had settled there. He hadn't cheated on Jim, he hadn't even thought of it. He had just got drunk and silly and trusted his friend to take care of him, and his friend had not let him down. Laura studied her teachers shell-shocked face and tugged on her younger friends dish towel. "Tracy, help me in the kitchen?" After they had vanished Flick sat down next to Blair on the couch. "Man, what have you been thinking?" "I couldn't remember where I was when I woke up, or how I got here. I thought..." Blair leaned back against the calico throw and closed his eyes in dizzy relief. "You wretched dullard," Flick pinched a sturdy thigh and Blair sat up with a yelp of real pain. "Ow! That hurt!" "It was meant to! That was for thinking I would ever abandon you, you cretin. Friends take care of each other, remember?" "Yeah, man, I know," Blair said sheepishly, still rubbing his stinging thigh. "I never even thought about you this morning. Just about Jim." Flick shook his head. "You always make things so hard on yourself," he chided fondly. "Come on." He stood, slapping the jean clad thigh he had so recently abused. "Come and have some lunch." "Hey!" Blair jumped up and grabbed a shoulder, swinging his friend to face him. "Thanks." He engulfed the slim young man in a hug, which Flick returned fiercely. "Anytime. Just, next time you have a mid-life crisis, I am not prescribing Mexican beer." "Mid-life?" Blair repeated, eyes narrow. Flick just
winked one slanted green eye and sauntered off. 000 Blair opened his favorite folder and zipped over to a web site, aimlessly scrolling down the new page. Jim had phoned from the car minutes before, he was just a few miles away, nearly home. Finally tiring of his surfing Blair broke the connection and stood up, rubbing his palms on his new shirt front nervously. He lectured himself sternly as he checked the salad and cold cuts in the refrigerator for the tenth time in an hour. There was absolutely no need to be nervous. He was going to greet his lover and help him unpack and have a nice lunch with him and then over a beer he would tell him what had happened over the weekend, how he had gotten drunk and how he had felt when he woke up on Saturday morning in a strange place. He would swear he would never be so silly again and Jim would swat him playfully and that would be that. And tonight in bed he would show Jim just exactly how much he had missed him. Blair straightened as the door opened and Jim appeared in the
door way, a bag in one had, his keys still dangling from the lock. Before his brain even knew what his feet were doing Blair was across the room and in Jim's arms, feet off the floor as Jim caught him in big strong arms and held him close. "I guess so," Jim puffed happily, squeezing tightly. Blair buried his face tightly in his beloved's neck, wanting to tell him hello, to kiss him soundly and greet him properly. Instead all he could do was try to hold in his sobs as tears flowed from his eyes. He heard a gentle curse and felt Jim grab a handful of brown curls and tug. Blair resisted him and burrowed deeper. "Blair? What is it? What's wrong?" Forcefully Jim separated them and Blair felt his face cupped between trembling hands. Forcing himself to open his eyes Blair tried to speak but could only shake his head. "You're scaring me here, Blair. Now talk to me." And Jim did look scared, his Sentinel sight raked Blair's body, looking for physical reasons for his distress. With a start Blair realized the front door was still wide open. He wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. "I'm okay, Jim. I'm sorry I scared you." Jim's frowning glance was still on him and Blair felt a pang of guilt. So much for good intentions, Jim wasn't even in the door and he was crying all over him! What on earth would it have been like if he really had cheated on him the other night? The memory of those bitter hours returned for a moment and Blair straightened his spine. He tugged Jim's keys from the lock and closed the door, automatically securing the chain. "Blair?" Jim still looked scared and now he was looking worried too. "Is everything... okay?" "Yes, Jim." Blair cupped his hands on the back of Jim's strong neck and tugged him down for the welcome he should have given him. Jim resisted for just a moment and then gave in, sweeping Blair into his arms and devouring his mouth greedily. "Whew." Blair rested his forehead on Jim's shoulder, licking kiss swollen lips. "Now that's a hello." Jim cupped Blair's sturdy hips and pressed against his lover's erection with his own. "Almost worth going away for," he agreed. "Blair? Want to tell me what the tears were for?" Blair pressed his cheek against the crisp cotton of Jim's shirt. "I missed you so much I got a little crazy," he whispered. "I went to a party with Flick and got drunk." Jim's hands clenched his hips for a moment and then relaxed, finger by finger. "And?" he prompted hoarsely. "And I woke up in a strange bed with no memory and thought I'd ruined the best thing that ever happened to me," Blair tilted his head back and looked directly into his lovers eyes. The pale blue orbs met his unflinchingly. "And did you?" "No," Blair said serenely. Jim released a breath Blair hadn't even realized he had been holding. He lowered his forehead until it rested against Blair's. "And would you have?" he whispered softly. "Not in a million years," Blair answered from his heart. "But for a while there I was just about ready to cut my own throat. I doubted myself, and I'm not even sure why. I have never had the least desire to cheat on you, my love." "I trust you," Jim pressed a gentle kiss to sensitive lips and Blair felt his eyes prickle with tears again. "I will earn that trust," he vowed. "I was just going through some crazy stuff on Friday. Flick said I was having a mid-life crisis." Jim huffed a laugh into Blair's neck and licked the warm tempting skin. "Mid-life huh? What does that make me?" Blair tilted his head back as the talented tongue explored his neck thoroughly. "It makes you perfect," he purred. "Jim?" Jim lifted his head. "Hm?" "Do you like my new shirt?" Jim blinked at the change of subject and studied the African print cotton, wide vee neck line dipping to a laced front, showing of Blair's tanned throat and downy chest. "I like it fine. Nice colors." "Yeah." Blair smiled in satisfaction. "That's what I thought." He pressed another kiss to Jim's lips. "By the way, I had to borrow from you to buy it." Jim melted into the kiss for a moment and then drew back. "What?" "I used the credit card you left me." Wisely Blair stepped out of Jim's arms and headed for the kitchen. "That was for emergencies!" Jim protested. "Believe me, man, this was an emergency," Blair said fervently. Jim surveyed his young lover in his bright printed shirt, speechless for a moment. "Okay, Chief. I think I need to hear the story of this 'mid-life crisis' from the beginning. Talk." Blair laid the salad and cold cuts out on the table. "Well, it all started when I couldn't get my nipple ring in," he said agreeably. "Beer?" Jim shook his head with a grin at the roller coaster his life
had become and accepted the beer, settling down for the ride. The End.
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