B.J Sandburg
Touch
Jim leaned over Blair and kissed him on the ear. "What are you working on, Chief?"
"My thesis," Blair said absently, peering through his glasses at the screen.
Jim raised a brow. "I thought that was all done?"
"Yeah, Jim, that was the old thesis." Blair pushed a button and sat back. "This is the new one."
Tilting his head curiously, Jim studied his partner. The blue shadows under his eyes had faded a little, due in large part to the twins now only waking twice a night for feeding. His colour was better too, and he no longer had any pain from his incision. All in all he looked well.
Actually he looked gorgeous, but Jim was still getting used to feeling like that.
He dropped down into a chair. "The old one being..." Jim coaxed.
"The Sentinel project," Blair expanded.
"I'm your old project?" Jim puzzled. "How did I get relegated to old?"
Blair tugged off his glasses and surveyed his partner quizzically. "Hello? I know we've had a lot of other things to think about this past year..."
"To say the least," Jim murmured.
"But I know you have concerns about this as well," Blair continued persistently.
Jim looked down at the wooden table top, suddenly minutely interested in the grain. "Concerns?" he repeated blankly.
Blair stayed silent and Jim quirked his lips, recognising the young man's ploy. Finally Jim gave in and looked up, meeting Blair's eyes with a sigh. Blair had one brow raised in his classic Sherlock Holmes impression.
As expected Jim couldn't keep a straight face and he dissolved into chuckles, shaking his head at his loss of control.
"I knew you couldn't resist my Sigmund Freud look," Blair said smugly.
Jim laughed harder. "I thought it was your Sherlock Holmes look," he managed.
Blair narrowed his eyes. "There are certain similarities," he admitted.
"Okay, okay," Jim admitted, still chuckling. "I have had concerns. There, you happy?"
"Happy's not the word I'd used," Blair said dryly. "Considering the fact that I'm throwing away three years work here, and a possible Nobel prize."
Jim hooted derisively. "Nobel prize," he mocked. "Dream on, Chief."
"All right, maybe not a Nobel prize," Blair relented. "But very possibly a Movie-of-the-week deal."
"Bruce Willis plays me," Jim ordered, but he was sobering fast. Just the thought of his life played out as a movie made him feel intensely naked and vulnerable.
"I honestly don't know if I would have thought this through so thoroughly even a year ago," Blair admitted. "I was just so eager to learn all I could and share it with the world." He sighed sadly. "I'm seeing things from a different perspective now."
Jim frowned. "What perspective?"
Blair met his eyes squarely. "Yours," he admitted.
The sadness in his partner's eyes caught at Jim's heart and he reached out and took Blair's hand, squeezing his fingers comfortingly.
"I just didn't before," Blair said, shaking his head in something like wonder. "How could I have been so willfully blind?" he appealed.
Jim squeezed his hand again. "If you were blind so was I," he assured him huskily. "I never allowed myself to think what it would mean to my life to have you publish your work."
"Now I have to think about it," Blair said firmly. "Our lives are tied together." He raised one brow in a lop-sided shrug. "Do you think I'm finally growing up?" he asked quizzically.
Jim snorted. "Don't play for sympathy, Chief," he said with a grin. "Everything changes. Maybe we needed this last year to step back and look at things from a different perspective. Now we both know there's no realistic way to expose The Sentinel to the world." He smiled into his partner's eyes. "Thanks for being the one to admit it first."
Blair smiled back. "If I waited for you..." he drawled, then winked. "Anyway, I have a career to think about. I've decided to go with the closed societies theme, as I've certainly had the background."
"Will you be able to change it?"
Blair sighed. "I guess I'll find that out, won't I?"
"You know whatever happens, Chief..." Jim began.
Blair squeezed his hand. "I know," he assured him. "And look at it this way. If it doesn't work out I have a huge career as a nanny ahead of me."
"You could do worse," Jim said stoutly.
"Part of me thinks I should just stay home with the twins anyway," Blair admitted.
"I guess all mothers go through that," Jim nodded.
Blair's face lit up for a moment, then he groaned. "I am so messed up!" he exclaimed.
Jim huffed a laugh. "You're telling me?"
"Hush," Blair chided, slapping Jim's hand and jumping up. "I'm talking about my insane fixation with being called 'mother'."
"Oh, that," Jim said nonchalantly.
Blair looked disappointed. "You mean you noticed?"
Jim pointed to his own face. "Sentinel here, Chief, remember? You're heartbeat spikes whenever I call you Mommy in front of the twins."
Blair leaned back against the counter, mouth turned down. "That's crazy, isn't it?"
Jim tilted his head. "I don't believe anyone who knew all the facts would have a problem with you being called 'mother', Chief," Jim said fairly. "Why shouldn't you enjoy it? The only place that fact will ever be acknowledged is here in our home."
Seeing the sadness once again cross Blair's face Jim jumped up and joined him at the counter. "But we'll always know," he whispered, putting one hand on either side of Blair and hemming him in. "And the twins will know. And we're the only ones who count, right?"
Blair caught his hips. "Right," he agreed firmly.
Jim caught his chin and laid a kiss on his lips. "Mmm," he hummed. "How long before the twins wake up again?"
Blair returned the kiss for a moment, then pulled back, one hand pushing Jim's chest. "Not long enough for what you have in mind," he chided, but Jim saw the delight in his eyes.
Stroking back a wing of hair Jim inhaled Blair's unique fragrance and touched his lips to the graceful slope of his ear. "Sure?"
Blair slid his hand over Jim's firm chest, finding a responsive nipple through the thin material and stroking it to life. "Positive," he murmured. Then he nimbly slipped under Jim's arm.
"Hey," Jim protested, left holding only air.
"Actually I forgot to tell you I was going out for a few hours this afternoon," Blair said breathlessly, smoothing back his hair. "Will you be all right with the twins till I get back? Your Dad's coming over too, right?"
"I think I'll cope, Chief," Jim retorted, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter. "But tell me. What could be more important than staying here and letting me lick you all over?"
Blair opened his mouth to answer then froze, blinking in shock at Jim's words.
Jim watched with satisfaction as Blair fumbled for words. That'd teach the young man to tease and run.
"Uh, nothing I can think of right now," Blair squeaked. Clearing his throat he eyed Jim repressively. "And since you haven't licked me all over so far in our relationship, I have no way of knowing whether it is more important."
Jim covered his grin with his hand, pretending to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "A serious omission on my part."
Blair shook his head in exasperation. "I can see you're in a good mood," he retorted. He headed towards the stairs. "So I'll leave the twins in your capable hands while I go out with Megan."
Jim frowned. "What?" He followed Blair up the stairs and found him pulling on his best blue sweater. "Where are you going?"
"There's an art gallery downtown," Blair said, brushing his hair back. "A friend of Megan's has a show." He fastened his ponytail and turned an inquiring glance on Jim. "You don't mind, do you?"
Jim shrugged carelessly. "Why should I mind? I've been telling you to get out and about for a week."
"Yeah," Blair nodded, rummaging through a small wooden box for an earing, and threading it into his lobe. "Megan said the same thing. And I'll only be gone a few hours."
Jim felt his jaw clenching and he deliberately tried to relax. "Have fun," he said shortly, turning on his heel and hurrying down the stairs.
"Jim?" Blair followed him down the stairs, shrugging into a jacket. "Are you sure you're all right with this?"
Jim headed for the refrigerator. "I said so didn't I?" he called over his shoulder. He pulled out a beer and twisted the top off with a vicious movement.
Blair slowly buttoned his jacket, watching him closely. "Yes you did," he agreed.
Jim took a gulp of beer. "And like I said, I've been telling you to get out of the house for a while."
"Uh huh," Blair nodded, guardedly.
"Of course, it took Megan telling you the same thing to actually get you out of the house," Jim muttered into the mouth of his bottle, before taking another gulp.
"Uh huh," Blair said with a little more significance. "Megan's the problem."
"What problem?" Jim demanded. "There's no problem."
Blair stared at him again, but this time Jim wasn't biting. He stared back defiantly. Finally Blair sighed.
"You know, Jim, I had to put up with this when I was just your partner and your room mate. I don't have to put up with it as your lover." He walked up to Jim and moved into his personal space. "And incidentally, we're still married too." He reached into his neckline and tugged out his wedding ring, which he wore on a chain. "So show me just a little respect here, hmm?"
Jim attempted to stare him down, but the ring kept catching his eye. His hot temper faded a little. The ring reminded him of vows they'd made to one another, not just in law, but here in their home, gazing into each other's eyes.
He sighed, meeting Blair's eyes a little more evenly. "I do respect you," he said quietly. "And there's no problem, okay, Chief?"
Blair scanned his face, eyes narrowed. Then he shook his head, face relaxing. "Okay, Jim," he relented. He patted his arm. "If there ever is a problem remember who loves you, okay?"
Jim nodded gratefully.
Blair padded into the nursery and Jim followed, watching while he kissed wrinkled little brows and stroked starfish hands.
"I'll be back in a couple of hours," Blair said at the front door, kissing him good bye.
Jim closed the door and listened to his lover all the way down in the elevator, across the street, into his car and away.
Then he collapsed on the couch, blowing out a guilty breath, finally able to admit to himself, now that Blair was gone, what had been bothering him. And he felt like crap.
How could he be jealous of Megan? Blair's best friend? He'd spent the last year encouraging that friendship, glad that his lover had someone to talk to, as he talked to Simon.
But of course, Blair had been a woman then, and his relationship to Megan had been in no way threatening. So did he feel threatened now?
Jim closed his eyes. Apparently he did.
It wasn't that he didn't trust Blair.
Jim massaged the space between his eyes.
Was it?
William arrived at three, bearing gifts.
"Dad, you don't have to bring something every time you visit," Jim said, watching his father unload the boxes on the counter with a sigh. There was little enough room in the nursery as it was.
"It's just a few things," William dismissed. He tugged the lid off a box and lifted out a half moon shape. "Look at this, Jimmy," he said in delight. "It's a music box!" He twisted the base and sat it down, and the ceramic moon slowly rotated to a soft tinkling tune.
"It's lovely," Jim agreed, tracing the finely carved figures on the pastel surface with sensitive eyes. "It must have cost a fortune."
William tutted. "Nothing but the best for my grand daughters," he chided.
Jim suppressed another sigh. Some things never changed. William Ellison was throwing his money around as usual. "Beer, Dad? Or would you prefer coffee?"
"Coffee, thanks," William said absently, opening another box. "I found these night lights too and I couldn't resist them. They come with built in cut-off switches, for the ultimate in fire safety." He pushed back his grey hair and smiled at his son. "Or so the lady at the store told me."
Jim smiled back, reflecting that perhaps he was being too hard on his old man. Or maybe he was just seeing things differently through adult eyes. Sure, the old man was throwing his money around, but he as a grandfather he wasn't making the same mistake he'd made as a father. He was giving gifts out of love this time, and not as a replacement for love.
Big difference.
"Dad, Blair and I really appreciate the gifts," Jim said, stressing his partner's name as he always did around his father. He wanted William to get used to the knowledge that Blair was part of all their lives now, for good. "But we really don't have the room for too much more in the nursery."
"Ah, but I'm still hoping you'll change your mind about moving home," William joked. He accepted the cup of coffee and sat down at the table. "Now don't frown at me, son," he insisted.
"Dad, we talked about this," Jim reminded him patiently.
"I didn't get where I am in life by giving up so easily," William said firmly. "Just hear me out, Jimmy, please?"
Jim rolled his eyes and went for a beer. This was not a coffee conversation.
"Now, I know you want your privacy and independence. After all, you've been on your own a long time now."
"More than half my life," Jim said quietly.
"And I can see you're serious about Blair Sandburg being part of your life," William continued doggedly.
"Our lives," Jim inserted. "Mine and the babies."
William nodded, meeting his eye. "I accept that," he said magnanimously. "So here's what I was thinking. My old legs don't like too many stairs any more. Sally and I hardly venture up to the top floor. So I want you to have it."
"Dad," Jim began.
"The house is going to be yours one day anyway, Jim," his father interrupted.
"Mine and Steven's," Jim corrected.
William's face closed. "Don't worry about your brother," he said coldly. "I won't leave him wanting."
"Have you and Steven argued?" Jim frowned.
"I wouldn't call it arguing," William said bitterly. "He wouldn't listen to one word I had to say."
"You're talking about him giving up his job," Jim realised.
"Giving up his job, his apartment," William complained. "Moving into that dump, going back to school. To school for god's sake," he repeated. "At his age!"
"He's thirty-six, Dad," Jim said quietly. "And even if he was fifty-six, what would it matter? He wanted to change his life. He wasn't happy."
"Happy!" William spat bitterly. "That boy could have had anything. God knows I opened enough doors for him." The older man stood, restlessly pacing the kitchen. "But he never had the drive, the ambition. Opportunity after opportunity, wasted." He shook his head.
"Was does that tell you, Dad?" Jim said gently. "Steven wasn't happy as a lawyer. It's taken him a while to figure that out. You should be glad that he's seen the truth and is heading in a new direction."
William shook his head in despair. "He's thrown away everything. Sold everything he had to finance these studies. And did he tell you what he's going to do with all this new found knowledge?"
Jim nodded, studying the bitter lines in his father's face. "Yes," he said softly. "He wants to teach."
"To teach!" William agreed hotly. "Can you credit it?" He slammed a fist on the counter. "Does that he really think that will make him happy?"
"How easily you dismiss happiness," Jim said in wonder. "In my experience it's all that matters."
William glowered at him. "Happiness is ephemeral," he said angrily. "It slips through your fingers like smoke. It won't buy a home, or feed your family, or give you the status you need to be safe."
Jim studied his father with new eyes. In all their lives they'd never spoken so honestly to one another. "And once you have that home?" he asked gently. "That status? Without happiness what is any of it worth?"
William crossed his arms, setting his jaw stubbornly and turning away.
"I've had the careers that I wanted, Dad," Jim continued. "They satisfied the needs I thought were all important. But they never gave me an ounce of the happiness I've found with..." He broke off, frustrated by his own necessary lies.
William turned guilty eyes on him. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. "After all you've lost..."
"Dad I wouldn't trade a minute of the year I had with B.J," Jim said honestly.
"But you're paying for that happiness now," William said tearfully.
Jim couldn't hold back any longer. He knew his father wasn't a toucher, and it didn't come naturally for Jim to reach out to this man. But with Blair he was learning how important touch was to convey love. He stood and wrapped his arms around his dad, drawing him closer.
For a moment the older man resisted, head rearing back in shock as Jim pulled him against his chest. Then he seemed to give up, leaning against his son's broad chest.
"Don't worry about me, Dad," Jim murmured. "I have my children now, and I have Blair."
William tentatively lifted his hands, holding his son's wide rib cage.
"And don't worry about Steven either. He's making his own choices."
"I just want to help," William confided huskily.
Jim leaned back and looked deeply into his father's eyes. "Then be here for us, Dad," he advised. "Give us your time, not expensive gifts."
William stiffened and Jim let him draw away.
"Those little babies don't care about lamps and music boxes, beautiful as they may be. But their grandfather's arms holding them, his voice talking to them... That's something that will stay with them forever."
William looked away, eyes cast down. "You're not coming home are you?" he murmured.
"Not right now," Jim said gently. "But my home can be your home too. We need you and Sally, and all our family."
William rubbed his brow. "Just promise me you'll keep the old place in mind," he insisted. "You four will grow out of the loft soon enough."
"I promise," Jim vowed, wondering what Blair would think of this. His sensitive nose picked up a distinctive scent and he grinned. "Now, the twins need changing, and then it'll be feeding time again. Want to help?"
Jim changed Ammie's diaper, automatically turning down his sense of smell. He smiled to himself as he remembered his and Blair's horror over the smell, back in the hospital when they'd first taken a turn at changing the babies. What a pair of wusses they'd been!
William didn't share his humour. He narrowed his eyes and made unpleasant faces as he handed Jim wipes and fresh diapers.
"They still only drink milk, right?" he wheezed.
"So far," Jim chuckled.
"Do you really think Steven's happy?" William said suddenly, fiddling with powder and lanolin.
"Yes," Jim nodded, coating Ammie's tiny little butt with a liberal application of cream. "I really do."
"That's all I want for you boys," William revealed.
Words trembled on Jim's tongue. Words of advice, words of scorn, words as bitter as anything the older man had spouted forth just minutes before.
Then his daughter kicked strongly, objecting to the diaper Jim was folding back over her skinny greasy butt.
The reproach died on his tongue. What good would it do to remind William that remaking his sons in his own image was hardly an ideal recipe? The old man was trying, that was all that mattered now.
"I know you do, Dad," he murmured.
William slanted him a glance. "I guess all a father can do is be there to pick up the pieces after their child makes a mistake," he said slyly.
It didn't take a genius to figure out that William wasn't just talking about his youngest child now. Jim ignored the jibe. The older man still thought Blair would cut and run. Time would teach him differently.
Jim cradled Jordan's head and butt as he lowered her into the plastic bath-tub. Once she was resting on the bottom, in all of two inches of perfectly warm water he slid his hand out from under her narrow butt and began splashing water onto her chest. A little hit her chin and she grimaced, strong little body arching and kicking.
"Got to get you all clean," Jim chided, squeezing a drop of liquid baby soap on her tummy and smoothing it over her skin. She was so tiny under his hands. All bulked up in diaper and clothes she had that round baby look. But stripped down she was nothing but this long lean frame, thin little arms and legs, pudgy little belly, nodding head.
And those eyes. Navy blue and full of life now. Beginning to focus, although she still tended to peer like Blair without his glasses.
Would she have Blair's eyes, Jim wondered? Or his own?
He smoothed the suds over small pink hands, marveling as always at the perfect opaque nails, the tiny flexing fingers. One day these hands would play with blocks, grasp a pencil, perhaps hold her own children. A lifetime of possibilities lay in these small hands.
Jim heard Blair pull up outside. He rinsed Jordan off and laid her on the warm fluffy towel he'd laid out earlier. He was gently smoothing the moisture from her skin when Blair opened the front door.
"I missed bath time?" Blair said in disappointment as he shrugged out of his coat and tossed his keys in the basket.
"You're just in time for massage," Jim informed him, wiping the soft towel over Jordan's frowning face. He nodded towards the baby car capsule that doubled as a portable crib once it was unbuckled from the back seat restraints. Ammie was kicking and cooing inside, covered only by a light blanket and still managing to kick it off.
"I think we have a potential nudist in our midst," Blair joked, rolling up his sleeves. "That child hates being confined in clothes."
"Exhibitionist like her mother," Jim joked, flicking a quick glance over his partner.
Blair made a face at him and lifted Ammie onto the counter next to her sister. He squirted some lotion in his palm and handed the bottle to Jim.
"Did you have a good time?" Jim asked quietly, warming the lotion in his hands before smoothing it over Jordan's tummy.
Blair was spreading the lotion down Ammie's arms to her tiny hands, carefully spreading the fingers and gently massaging between them.
"Not bad," he shrugged. "It's a challenge to come up with the right words at an exhibition like that though. Interesting just doesn't cut it."
"Modern art?"
Blair snorted. "So they tell me." He stroked Ammie's skin, watching her squirm and wriggle under his hands. "To tell you the truth I just kept thinking about you and the twins. Frankly I'd rather have been here changing diapers and helping you bathe them."
"There is a life outside this loft," Jim lectured. He couldn't help the happy grin he shot at Blair though, any more than he could help being warmed by the words. His disturbing jealously was fading and he sighed in relief.
Blair once told him he'd always been possessive of his Guide, even before they became lovers. Jim tried to remember those occasional moments of resentment but found they were unclear in his head now. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been this in love with his other half.
"I know there's life outside the loft," Blair said patiently, massaging little toes. "I've been out there in it, remember? Traveling the world, meeting new people, learning new things."
"I remember." Quietly.
Blair smiled down into Ammie's wide eyes. "But trust me, there's nothing out there to compare with the lives right here in our home."
Jim's throat was tight. "I do trust you," he murmured, meaning it with all his heart and soul. He shot a glance at Blair but the younger man was leaning over and kissing a little button nose, the under current of the conversation passing him by.
Just then Blair slanted him a loving glance and Jim revised his opinion. Just what did his Guide see with those navy blue eyes?