Title: SLAYING DRAGONS
Author/pseudonym: Candy Apple 
Email address: blair_lady@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17 
Pairings: J/B

Status: NEW, complete
Date: 09-24-99
Archive: YES
Archive author: Candy Apple 
Archive email address: blair_lady@yahoo.com
Series/Sequel: Sequel to "One of a Kind" -- These Two Hearts Series
Other website: http://internetdump.com/users/candy_a

Disclaimers: Pet Fly owns the guys and The Sentinel.  No money being
made.  Definitely NO money being made.  Trust me on this.

Notes: This story won't make much sense if you haven't followed the
"These Two Hearts" Series. 

Summary:   Jim and Blair slay a few of each others old dragons, and
Jim explores the real Jim Ellison.

Warnings: m/m, h/c, the usual goodies. <g>

*******************************************************

SLAYING DRAGONS

by

Candy Apple



     Estimates in hand, Jim and Blair left the pool and patio store
with less than cheerful expressions.  Installing the in ground pool was
not only going to be expensive, but obviously a huge undertaking in
terms of uprooting various old trees--and probably damaging the root
systems of others.  Not at all convinced this was such a great idea
anymore, they got into the truck and Jim started up the engine.  

     "You want to check that new pool and spa place and see what
they have to say?"  Jim asked, pulling out into traffic.  He glanced back
at Blair to find the other man staring at him.  "What's wrong, Chief?"

     "I'm still getting used to it."

     "To what, sweetheart?"  Jim asked, turning his eyes back to the
road.

     "Your mustache's new friend," Blair said, referring to the goatee
Jim had added to the mustache. 

     "Jury still out on this one?"  Jim chuckled a little.  Blair had
accepted the mustache--encouraged it even.  The new facial hair was
taking a bit longer to pass inspection.

     "I'll get used to it," Blair responded with a shrug.  

     "Well, on the scale of sex appeal, sounds like it's scoring about
a 2."  

     "You're always high on my sex appeal scale, lover.  A few new
whiskers aren't going to change that."

     "Nice," Jim commented casually, noticing a motorcycle bearing
a "for sale" sign parked out at the end of a driveway they passed.

     "You want to look at it?"

     "Are you kidding?  Did you look at this estimate?"  Jim picked
the paper up off the seat and gestured with it.  "You know damn well
we're going to have replace something in the garden, because some
jack ass is bound to drive a cement truck somewhere it shouldn't go, so
you can tack another grand on top of this to fix the yard when they're
done."

     "Screw the pool.  Let's go look at the bike.  C'mon, Jim.  You
know you want to."

     "We can't afford it, Chief.  Besides, what would I do with a
motorcycle?"

     "Man, you *have* been without one a long time," Blair
quipped, laughing.  "You'd *ride* it, dummy."

     "What for?  I've got the truck."

     "Oh, come on, Jim, you can't tell me you're really this far gone. 
You'd buy it and ride it to have *fun*.  Remember *fun*, Jim?"

     "Yeah.  It's what I had before they raised the property taxes
again."

     "If we don't put in this...this...giant cement...*thing* in our
backyard, we could afford for you to get a bike."  Blair took the
estimate out of Jim's hand.  "Probably a year's supply of gas, too." 
Shaking his head, he tossed the paper back down.  "Let's just go look at
it."  Blair added, "Besides, wait 'til you see what the pool does to our
property taxes."

     "Point taken."  Jim pulled into a nearby driveway and turned
around, heading back toward the offered bike.  "You know that bike's
probably eight or ten grand.  If we're going to lay out that kind of
money, it ought to be on something we can both enjoy."

     "You mean you wouldn't take me for a ride on it?"

     "Who else am I gonna take, professor?"  Jim smiled, pulling up
to the curb in front of the house where the bike was parked.  "I just
meant that you've never been into bikes at all--"

     "I don't *know* much of anything about them, Jim.  See, this is
the part where *you* teach *me* how to do something.  You can teach
me to ride that thing."  Blair gestured toward the motorcycle.  

     "It *is* a good-looking ride, isn't it?"  Jim had that little glint in
his eye now, and he got out of the truck with Blair close behind him. 
As Jim examined the bike, then squatted down beside it for a closer
look, it was obvious he knew what he was evaluating.  "Looks like it's
had a lot of work done on it.  It's in good shape."

     "What is it?  I mean, I can see it's a Harley, but that's about it."

     "It's a Harley Davidson FXE...I think about a '75 or '76."

     "It's a '75," a voice startled them from behind.  Jim straightened
up and both of them turned to see a man about Blair's age heading
toward them.  "My brother's getting married, and he needs the money,
so he has to part with it.  He's put a lot of time in on it," he explained. 
The dark-haired man smiled.  "I wanted to buy it, but we're putting a
deck on the house, so..."  he shrugged.  "I got vetoed."

     "You know what he's had done to it?"  Jim asked.

     "I've got all the receipts in the garage.  He's a mechanic, so he
did all the work himself.  A lot of the chrome was added last year, I
know there's a new wiring harness, new Fat Bob tanks..."  He walked
around the bike as if trying to remember what else he should mention. 
"Oh, yeah, and the tires, obviously."

     "Yeah, I noticed those looked new."

     "You want to take it for a ride?"  he asked.

     "What are you asking for it?"

     "Well, it's my brother's bike, like I said, so you'd have to talk
business with him, but he's asking $8,000."

     "Why don't you try it out, Jim?"  Blair prodded.  

     "I've got a helmet in the garage."

     "Okay," Jim agreed, smiling slightly.  The other man hurried up
the driveway to get the helmet and the key to the bike.  "I don't want to
take you out on this thing without a helmet, Chief."

     "That's okay.  I'll wait here.  You can leave me here for
collateral," Blair joked.

     "They haven't come up with anything valuable enough for me to
do that, sweetheart," Jim responded, smiling at Blair, who grinned back
at the comment.

     "Okay, here you go."  The man handed the helmet and key to
Jim.  "My name's Paul Lamont, by the way."

     "I'm Jim Ellison, this is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

     "Partner?"

     Figuring it was easier than going into a prolonged explanation
of their relationship, Jim pulled out his police ID and badge.

     "Oh, man, that's a coincidence!  My brother's a cop in Seattle. 
He left the bike here a few days while he's out of state visiting the
almost-in-laws."

     "I won't be long."

     "Take your time.  At least I don't have to worry about you
stealing it," Paul quipped.  "You want a beer or something?"  he asked
Blair.  

     "No, thanks, I'm fine.  You're working on a deck?"

     "Yeah.  I've got it started out back if you want to take a look."

     "Sure.  Take your time, Jim," Blair said, backing away from the
motorcycle as Jim straddled it, put on the helmet and then revved the
engine.  A moment later he was on his way out of the driveway onto
the street.

     Careful not to really open up the engine and risk life and limb
moving through the suburban streets, Jim headed out toward more open
terrain.  It was a brisk spring day, a bit chilly for the clothing he wore,
but the feeling of the rushing wind and the responsiveness of the bike's
engine was addictive.  While he really didn't plan to lay out $8,000 on a
toy for himself, it was fun to at least ride again, if only for a few
minutes.  

     He found himself heading outside the Cascade city limits,
opening up the engine now and racing down a country road, more than
a little impressed with the old bike's handling and performance.  This
was a damn good piece of equipment, and the price wasn't bad.  What
was so ironic is that this was almost the same bike as the last one he'd
owned, right before he'd fallen out of favor with his father and ended
up en route to military school instead of his senior year of high school. 
He'd only owned two bikes--one old one his father bought from a
neighbor so Jim could tinker with it and try it out before spending a
larger sum on a "real bike", and then, the "real bike"--the '75 Harley
Davidson FXE.  

     The bike had been sold to cover the repairs to his father's Cobra
that the insurance didn't cover--although at the time, it had been
overkill for the wealthy elder Ellison to sell the motorcycle to pay off a
$500 deductible.  He had reasoned that Jim wasn't going to need it
where he was going, and since Jim never returned home for more than
one necessary holiday visit over the Christmas break and then for a
month until he turned 18 in July of that year, he couldn't argue too
much with that justification.  And given the way things were left
between his father and himself at the time, he really wouldn't have
wanted to take anything with him that he owed the old man for.

     The thought of dropping in on his father crossed his mind
briefly, and he laughed, picturing what the older man would think of
his son arriving in that sedate neighborhood on his hog, wearing his
leather jacket, sporting a mustache and goatee. //Maybe I'll bring the
earring out of retirement while I'm at it,// he thought wickedly,
laughing all by himself as he maneuvered the bike around another
curve. //Better yet, I'll visit when I have the earring back and can show
up with my male lover on the back of my bike.//

     Jim was still smiling at his own musings when he returned to
the small ranch house, not surprised to see Blair working with the
homeowner in the garage on some task involving a 2x4 for the deck.  It
was pretty unlikely that Blair could stand around and not help out when
a second pair of hands was needed.

     "What do you think?"  Blair asked immediately, hurrying out to
where Jim stood next to the bike.  Paul seemed to know enough to give
the two men a few minutes to discuss things, as he hung back in the
garage, finishing up whatever it was he and Blair had been doing.

     "It's a great bike, Chief.  But it's still eight grand.  That's too
much to just toss out on some trinket for me to play with."

     "How much did my computer set up end up costing?"  Blair
asked.

     "What's that got to do with this?"

     "Plenty, Jim.  You unloaded five thousand on that set up
without even pausing."

     "You need it for your work."

     "I need a computer.  But I *wanted* this system, so you ended
up getting me one that does everything but write the lectures for me
and make me a cappuccino while I wait.  I've got a printer the U's
graphics department would be jealous of, and while we're talking about
that, what about that computer desk?"

     "I wanted one that fit in with the decor--the oak woodwork."

     "Jim."

     "Okay, so *you* wanted that, but it was a good idea."

     "And then you thought I needed a better desk chair, and of
course only leather would do because of the motif of the room.  Shit,
Jim, if we add all that up--"

     "You finished the basement for me.  And what about the
drums?"

     "You know, we could stand here and do this tit for tat thing all
afternoon.  We've got money saved for this god-awful pool project that
neither of us wants to go ahead with, and I want you to have this.  And
I know you want it.  I can see that."

     "I don't know..."

     "Yes, you do.  Come on, Jim.  Give him a deposit."

     "Chief, I--"

     "Do you want that bike?"  Blair pinned him with an intent look.

     "Well, I--"

     "Do. You. Want. That. Bike?"  Blair repeated, his tone firmer
than Jim had heard it since long before their unfortunate separation. 
He hadn't seen quite this much of Blair's dominant side since they'd
been reunited.

     "Yes," he responded, in spite of himself.  There was something
in Blair's voice that was too compelling for him to avoid or deny. 
Within a few minutes, they had left a check to hold it until Paul's
brother returned home.  Jim would haggle price a little with him then,
but he knew the bike was his, because now that he'd committed to it,
even the full $8,000 asking price would be met if that's what it took.

********

     "I can't believe I let you talk me into a motorcycle, Chief," Jim
said as they neared their own driveway.

     "Yeah, man.  I had to really twist your arm."

     "You did, actually," Jim responded, smiling.  "Thanks."

     "I didn't have to twist your arm to want it.  I just had to twist
your arm to *take* it.  It's okay to do something just for you
sometimes."

     "In a marriage, not usually," Jim responded, shaking his head.

     "In a good marriage, it should be.  Because in a good marriage,
both people get to be number one sometimes.  I put you first and you
put me first, so we're both always first with somebody.  Everybody
wins.  And as far as this goes, since when don't you get some joy out of
making someone you love happy?  I know you wanted that bike--I
knew it the moment you just about did a 180 in your seat to ogle it
from the road when we drove by."  Blair smiled, laying a hand on Jim's
thigh.  "I'm real happy you're getting it, Jim."

     "I'm real happy I've got you."  Jim scooped up the hand and
squeezed it, smiling but watching the last few turns in the country road
that led to their house.

     "Yeah, and you can ride me anytime," Blair added in a sultry
voice, flexing his eyebrows.

********

     //Anytime other than when he's looking for something,// Jim
lamented, remembering Blair's sexy remark which the younger man
had apparently forgotten shortly after making it.  Not only was he not
in one place long enough for Jim to catch him, let alone ride him, but
now he was on a quest for some dusty old book on the Yanomamo
head hunters.  And when Blair was looking for something, nothing
would distract him from his mission.  Not even the ominous thud that
had come from the attic, accompanied by the expected "Shit!!"
declaration that followed.  In a moment, Blair muttered "I'm okay" just
to let Jim know he hadn't been *under* whatever fell--knowing that
Jim's ears would be tuned to the sounds until he was sure his lover was
unhurt by the commotion.  Satisfied, Jim went back to watching the
game.     

     A moment later, his attention was drawn back to the attic by a
sound that he never liked to hear--Blair was crying.  He strained his
ears a moment to be sure he was hearing correctly, since the younger
man had just said he was fine.  Furthermore, even if Blair had hurt
himself, he wouldn't have sat on the floor and cried--he'd have called
for help.  Puzzled, Jim got up and headed for the stairs.

     When he finally walked into the attic, he found Blair sitting on
the floor, an upended carton nearby that had spilled a number of spiral
notebooks and a few large books, and obviously, the two items Blair
held in his hands.  One was a small, black leather computer disk carrier
and the other was a photograph that looked quite a bit the worse for
wear around the edges.

     "Blair?  What's wrong, sweetheart?"  Jim knelt next to him on
the floor and slid an arm around his shoulders.  Blair wordlessly
handed him the worn photo.  Jim had to laugh when he saw it.  It was
Henri's birthday party, at least five years ago, shortly after Jim and
Blair had moved in together.  This photo captured just the two of them,
cakes bearing birthday cake in hand, Blair holding his own plate while
Jim stole one of the two flowers off Blair's piece to put one on his own. 
It had been a small gesture, but in seeing that photo again, Jim felt the
flood of the old feelings he'd experienced then.  It was just a gaggy
sweet frosting rose, but Blair's immediate decision to share one of his
two with Jim when Jim had none was so symbolic of their whole
relationship that this photo had a much deeper meaning than it would
appear on the surface.  They were a team, and what they had, they
shared.  Good and bad.  

     "I carried that with me all the time," Blair explained,
swallowing his emotion enough to talk. "I kept it in with these disks," 
Blair said, gesturing with the little case.  "It was the only photo of us
that I had, and...I had to hide it."  Blair took a shaky breath and gave in
to a few more tears.  "But I used to look at it all the time, and
remember...I missed you so much..."

     "Hey, come on, honey.  It's okay.  I'm here now.  We're
together."  Jim pulled his crying lover into his arms and rocked him
slowly, patting his back.  "You haven't gone through that box in a
while, huh?"

     "I just...stored it.  It was...stuff from...stuff you found...at
Vince's...  I couldn't look at it," Blair explained through his tears.

     "This is the box that fell.  I guess we should have stacked them
better.  You know, Chief, this picture...it's really special.  It's a good
memory."

     "That's why...it hurt so bad...I used to look at it...and remember
how...how much I loved you.  I was so...fucking...*lonely* without
you."  Blair gave up on talking then and burrowed into Jim's embrace,
letting the tears go, letting Jim's soothing hands and gentle words heal
the old wound that had been re-opened when he'd found the photo.  

     "I think we were both miserable being apart, sweetheart.  But
you...what you went through should have never happened to anyone, let
alone to someone as good and gentle and caring as you."  Jim kissed
the top of Blair's head.  "It just hurts really bad when one of these old
memories comes back, doesn't it?"  Jim asked sympathetically,
knowing that there were times when he couldn't really say anything that
would make a difference.  When all he could do was hold Blair while
he cried and wrestled with his old demons.

     "He would've...killed me...if he'd found this.  But I was...more
afraid...he'd find it...and take it...away from me.  It was...it meant more
to me...than anything else...I had."

     "You mean more to me than anything else in the world, you
hear me, cuddlebug?  I missed you every minute you were gone."

     "It was like...all those...old feelings...were *there*...when I saw
this.  I remembered taking it out...and looking at it...and sometimes...I'd
cry...because I felt so bad, and so lonely...and I needed you so much."

     "I need you too, sweetheart.  I'm right here.  I always will be." 
Jim swallowed hard, feeling a couple tears of his own escaping for
Blair's pain.  "You want to know what I see when I see this picture?" 
Jim let the question be rhetorical, still rubbing Blair's back and rocking
slightly.  "I see the first time I really felt like I had a life partner.  Not
just a police partner, not just a...a...*helper* with this sentinel thing. 
But somebody who looked out for me.  I know it was just a dumb hunk
of frosting, but..."  Jim shrugged, looking at the photo again.  "But
nobody in my whole life ever gave me one of their roses."  Jim had to
chuckle at the simplistic words, hoping that the real meaning he
wanted to convey was getting through.  Blair actually laughed a bit, and
pulled back a little, snorkeling somewhat inelegantly and blinking until
he could look at the picture with Jim, his cheek still resting against
Jim's chest.

     "Nobody?"  Blair asked.

     "Nobody but you, cuddlebug.  You're the only person in my
entire life that ever tried so damn hard to make me happy--who cared
so much, and asked me for so little in return.  And when I look at this
picture, I remember how you didn't even ask me if I wanted it, and I
didn't even have to complain about not having much frosting on my
cake.  You just noticed that you had a lot and I didn't have much and
you *told* me to take it.  Like the order of the universe wouldn't be
restored until we were on equal footing."

     "Maybe it was a harmonic convergence thing," Blair
commented, chortling a little weakly.  "Gotta keep those planets
aligned, man."

     "You think it would be okay if we kept this picture?  It doesn't
have to be out anywhere if it upsets you.  But I'd like for us to have it.  I
think it's pretty special."

     "That picture survived Vince.  I guess it doesn't deserve to get
trashed now," Blair responded, snorting a little laugh.

     "It survived.  Just like you.  And it came back to me.  Just like
you.  I don't plan on giving either one of you up anytime soon."  Jim
leaned down and kissed a wet cheek.  "You want to take a look at the
rest of that stuff now?"

     "Yeah," Blair said, nodding a little.  

     "Here, drippy.  Use this."  Jim handed Blair his handkerchief.

     "I think I got snot on you."

     "Wouldn't be the first sticky stuff you've squirted me with."

     "Won't be the last, either," Blair retorted, blowing his nose into
the cloth.

     "So what is this stuff, anyway?"  Jim pulled the carton over
closer to where they sat on the floor.

     "Most of these are just notebooks from my classes.  I mean,
from the seminars I was taking as a student."  Blair pulled out one
spiral notebook that had been torn in half and was still missing the
back cover and half its pages.  "Vince," Blair said simply, tossing it
aside and pulling out a book.  "Well, at least I found this."  Blair waved
the book he'd been looking for toward Jim.  "Shithead liked reading
about headhunters.  I kind of forgot about him picking that up and
looking at it.  I guess that's why it was with this stuff."

     "Don't let that get around--it'll give the headhunters a bad
name," Jim quipped, and Blair actually laughed.

     "Oh, yeah, I remember this.  Elaine made this for me.  I kind of
wondered what happened to it."  Blair pulled out a brown knitted scarf.

     "Sorry about that, Chief.  I was so goddamn mad at Watson
when I was packing your stuff that I wasn't too careful with what I put
where."

     "I'm just glad you got it back.  I mostly mean the photo.  I'm
glad to have Elaine's scarf, too--it'll go with those mittens she knitted
for me for Hanukkah last year--thinking of course I still had the scarf." 
Blair laughed a little, running his hand over the soft brown yarn of the
scarf.  

     "You think maybe we could go down to our room and you
could shoot a little more sticky stuff on me?"  Jim proposed, leaning in
for a quick kiss.

     "I guarantee it won't come out of my nose this time."

     "If it does, I want to take pictures," Jim teased, standing and
pulling Blair up by the hand.  

     They arrived in the bedroom, still holding hands.  Jim fell back
on the bed and pulled Blair down on top of him, wrapping his lover in a
tight embrace and capturing his mouth.  Cursing at uncooperative
clothes, they finally separated long enough to strip in record time,
leaving the garments in a rumpled, mingled heap by the side of the bed
before pulling the covers back and climbing in, getting comfortable for
a long, slow afternoon of lovemaking.  

     Hands and mouths eagerly worshiped rapidly heating flesh,
until they shifted positions, Jim relaxing on his stomach, enjoying the
view while Blair hung off the edge of the bed looking for the lube
they'd somehow managed to lose track of the night before.  Tossing it
aside had been sexy last night, but it was down right frustrating now
trying to find the damn tube.  And watching Blair's naked ass writhing
on the edge of the bed while he searched was stoking a fire in Jim that
cried out for some sort of satiation.

     "Yes!!"  Blair rose back up on his knees on the bed, the
somewhat beleaguered tube in hand.  Happy that he had the essential
supplies handy now, Blair covered Jim's body with his own, letting his
cock rub lazily between Jim's buttocks while he kissed his way across
the broad shoulders, smiling at the rippling of the muscles in Jim's
back.  

     Expertly flipping the top off the tube and getting some of the
gel on his fingers with just one hand, Blair kept on kissing and
nibbling, moving aside enough to work a greasy finger into the tight
opening, starting the gradual progression of preparing his lover.

     "God, you're gorgeous.  Perfect," Blair sighed against Jim's
back.  "Love you so much, babe."  Blair worked his way up to a second
finger, knowing the preparation stage wouldn't have to last long as
Jim's hips started rotating to increase the sensations of Blair's wiggling
digits.  Brushing one long finger over Jim's prostate, Blair savored the
howl it elicited from Jim.  He used the moment to add the third finger.

     "Come on, sweetheart.  Let's cut to the chase, huh?"  Jim
prodded breathlessly.  

     "That's my Jim.  Ever the romantic," Blair teased gently, flexing
his fingers inside his lover's body.  "You ready for me, love?"

     "Oh yeah," Jim groaned, moaning loudly at another little brush
of his prostate.  

     In a moment, Blair's fingers were replaced with the slick head
of his cock, and then it was easing slowly into Jim's body.  Blair felt the
wet heat sucking him in, squeezing him, wrapping around him like Jim
so often wrapped around him when he most needed to feel safe. 
Finally all the way inside, he rested against Jim's back a moment,
letting the love he felt flood his heart at the same time the physical
sensations from his imprisoned cock were flooding his body.

     Slowly, then, he began thrusting, waiting for any rapid
movement until Jim had adjusted to their union and began moving with
him, encouraging him to move faster.  Soon, they were rocking
together, moaning, panting, exchanging fragments of almost
nonsensical endearments until the pace became more frantic, and Blair
began consciously trying to impact with Jim's prostate.  Soon, Blair felt
the telltale stiffening of Jim's body just before the wild spasms of the
tight passage massaged his cock, Jim shouting out his completion.  A
moment later, Blair reached his own pinnacle with a few rapid thrusts,
filling Jim and then collapsing on the broad, muscular back, soaking up
the closeness.

     "Still alive back there, Chief?"  Jim teased, reaching back and
catching one of Blair's hands, lacing their fingers.

     "I'm not sure.  I might've died and gone to heaven."  Blair
yawned.  "Are you okay?"

     "I'm great," Jim responded contentedly.

     "You sure are," Blair retorted, grinning.

     Finally relinquishing their union, the two men shifted until Blair
was on his back and Jim was settled against him.  After resting a few
moments, and dozing a little, Jim's hand strayed down to Blair's cock, 

     "Mmmm," was Blair's drowsy, if not eloquent, reply.  He spread
his legs a bit for easier access, sighing contentedly as Jim's hand moved
from his cock to lightly massage his balls.  

     In moments, they were kissing again, and Jim moved between
Blair's spread legs, bracing himself on his forearms, claiming Blair's
mouth aggressively.  He was already hard again, and Blair was close
behind him, thrusting up to increase the friction of their erections.

     "The lube's under the pillow," Blair suggested breathily.  Jim
grinned at his words and reached for it.  

     "Oh, shit."  

     "Look behind the bed," Blair instructed.  

     "I wonder if they made a tube that hooks on the headboard? 
You know, like those shampoo bottles for the shower?"  Jim lurched in
the bed to make the mattress shift so he could get his arm between it
and the headboard.

     "Ow."

     "Sorry."

     "Just get it."

     "I got it," Jim announced proudly, moving back in the bed and
kneeling as Blair pulled his knees up and spread himself open.  Every
time Blair offered himself so willingly, something in Jim was amazed
by it.  After all he'd been through, Blair was still so passionate and
loving.  Jim had never had to "miss out" on anything in bed because of
Blair's past.  He would have loved Blair with all his heart and soul
forever no matter how badly damaged he'd been, but the beauty and
completeness of their sex life was a treasured gift.   

     Smiling at those thoughts, he leaned forward and kissed Blair
thoroughly, lingering there to taste his mouth, to nip at his nose and his
chin and make him laugh.  Nothing made Jim happier than to see Blair
laugh and smile when they made love.  Capturing those addictive lips
again, Jim grasped and pumped the rapidly hardening cock that was
still slick from their first round of lovemaking.  Breaking the kiss, he
moved down to stretch and prepare Blair, realizing it wouldn't take
much effort as relaxed as the younger man was now.  

     Letting an assertive finger find and rub over the little nob deep
inside Blair's body, Jim watched his lover transform with the pleasure,
his whole body flexing, his kiss-swollen lips releasing a cry of ecstasy
as he tried to bear down on the invading fingers.  Deciding a sight so
beautiful should be seen at least one more time, Jim brushed over the
little gland again, and Blair cried out, his cock filling to its limits.

     "Jim...now..."  he managed, and Jim knew he was close to the
edge.  If Jim wanted to be inside when Blair came, now was the time to
move.  Gently removing his fingers, Jim positioned himself at the snug
opening and slid slowly inside until they were fully joined.  He felt the
warmth, weight and pressure of Blair's legs wrapping around him,
pulling him in tight.

     As he began thrusting, he licked and sucked at taut nipples,
feeling Blair's hands slide into his hair to encourage him to keep up the
stimulation.   Blair didn't last long with the hot suction on his nipples
and the rubbing of his prostate sending dual jolts of pleasure through
his body.  Jim felt the tide of his own orgasm rippling to the surface,
and he moved faster, more intensely, claiming that hot, moist, secret
place as his own.

     When they came, it was simultaneous, their cries mingling as
they struggled between stilling to ride the tide of the climax and
thrusting more rapidly to increase the amazing sensations.  It was an
awkward but passionate dance that ended with both men exhausted and
sated in each other's arms.  

     "Love you," Blair sighed against Jim's chest, almost asleep. 
Jim, who had precious little more energy than his dozing lover, used
what little he did have to hold Blair just a little tighter and kiss his
temple.

     "Love you too, sweetheart."

********

     Blair woke to the sensation of something warm and wet on his
earlobe, and then on his neck.  Smiling, he let his eyes remain closed
and purred deep in his throat, savoring the little dance Jim's tongue was
doing on his warm flesh.  Jim fastened his mouth on Blair's neck now,
working on what would be a prominent passion mark.  Then he was in
motion again, licking, nibbling and nosing his drowsing lover.

     Warm, gentle hands were caressing him, teasing a couple of
erogenous zones that were just too sated and content to respond.  Still,
the touches felt good, and Blair wriggled a little with the pleasure of
them.

     "You smell good," Jim whispered hotly against Blair's ear.  

     "Now?"  Blair was surprised enough to open his eyes for that
comment.  They had been sweaty and covered with lube and other
bodily fluids, and even to his normal sense of smell, Blair thought he
was well overdue for a hosing down.

     "You smell like mine," Jim growled into the same ear, then
nibbled at the lobe.  "My smell is on you...in you."  Jim dragged his
tongue along the side of Blair's neck down to his shoulder.  

     "I was always yours, Jim," Blair said softly, relaxing into the
attentions.  "I always will be."

     "Better be, or I'll hunt you down," Jim responded, with a smile
in his voice.  Blair chuckled at that.

     "Excited about the bike?"  Blair asked, wondering if mention of
the motorcycle would distract the questing mouth that was marking his
shoulder.  Not that he wanted it to stop.  When Jim had taken his time
marking his mate and then licking over the spot, he responded.

     "Can't do this with chrome," Jim responded, settling back down
with his nose in the niche between Blair's neck and shoulder, breathing
in the scent of his lover's hair.

     "You can't tell me you haven't thought about it at all."

     "Not for the last few hours I haven't."  Jim sighed.  "But yes, I'm
excited about it, Chief.  It's just like my old one."

     "Your old one?"

     "It was a new one then, I guess," Jim responded, laughing.  "The
one my dad bought me when I was in high school."

     "The same kind as this one?"  Blair looked over his shoulder,
surprised.

     "Same make, model and year."

     "Oh, man," Blair responded, settling back down again.  "That's
gotta be some sort of *fate* thing."

     "Seems like it, huh?"  Jim squeezed Blair a little tighter, kissing
his cheek.

     "What happened to that bike?"

     "Got sold to pay the bill for the Cobra," Jim stated simply.  He
was more interested in exploring the little quivers in Blair's belly as he
rubbed his hand over it than he was reliving his childhood.

     "You can't tell me your dad didn't have that thing insured out
the ass."

     "There was a $500 deductible."

     "Like he couldn't afford it."  Blair shook his head.  "You know,
Jim, I'm glad you've had a chance to talk with your dad a little more in
recent years, and I hope you guys can keep on working on your
relationship and everything, but sometimes he was just such a total
*dick* to you when you were a kid that I want to go smack him one."

     "I left for military school--I couldn't have used the bike there
anyway, and then I went on to college and then the army."

     "You could have used it in college.  He could have *stored* it. 
It was just plain *meanness*."

     "He thought I'd smashed the car up.  If I'd really done it, I would
have deserved to lose the bike.  I can't really go back and blame him
because--"

     "Because he didn't believe you about not doing it?"

     "Stephen was his favorite, Blair.  I was the troublemaker.  The
one with the drums, the one with the motorcycle hobby, the one who
*didn't fit in*.  Stephen never came forward, and I had already put a
little dent in it once, so I was the most likely suspect.  I didn't rat out
Stephen--but then, whether or not I could have sold him that story even
if I had is questionable."  Jim let out a long breath, and Blair leaned
into his lover as he felt it dance over his shoulder.  "I think my father
has had a chance to look back on some things now, and wish he'd done
them differently."

     "You were a good kid, Jim.  I know you were."

     "I was a sullen oddball who holed up in my room and read or
thumped on drums or tinkered with my bike.  I played football and got
good grades because it was expected."

     "With everything you were repressing, it's amazing you
functioned that well."

     "Probably explains why I felt so out of it most of the time--disassociated 
with everything."

     "You know I love you just how you are--no matter what you do,
right?"  Blair twisted around in Jim's arms until they faced each other.

     "I know that, treasure."  Jim kissed Blair's forehead and pulled
him into a tight hug.  "You have any other plans today?"  Jim asked.

     "Yeah, but all of them involve you and this bed."

     "Sounds good to me, baby."

********

     "Hey, Jim, we better get a move on if--" Blair froze in the
doorway of the bedroom, the words dying on his lips.  Dressed from
head to toe in black leather, Jim was just finishing putting a minute,
hair-thin gold hoop in his left ear.  The tiny earring just barely caught
the light as the other man turned to him with a devilish grin.

     "I thought we might drop by my dad's place after we pick up the
bike."
     
     "Uh..."  Blair gaped at the motorcycle boots, the leather pants
that fit the curves of Jim's ass *very* nicely and the black leather jacket
that matched.  

     "Oh, and there's something for you in that box on the bed."

     "Jim...I..."  Blair smiled in open appreciation.  "Oh my God!" 
He laughed a little, staring at Jim like he was a piece of grade A prime
rib and Blair was a starved pit bull.

     "Open the box, Chief."  Jim sat on the foot of the bed next to it,
and Blair stood in front of it, flipping the lid off what looked like a
large coat box.  Inside was a sea of black leather.  "If you think this is
stupid, you don't have to wear it."

     "Matching outfits?"

     "I figured we'd be doing some riding today..."  Jim shrugged.

     "This is *so cool*!"  Blair pulled out the jacket first, then tossed
it aside to look at the pants.  "Man, good thing I didn't have that extra
bagel this morning."

     "You ever seen anyone in *loose* leather pants?"

     "Jim, this is great.  I love it.  But you didn't have to do this.  I
mean, I don't plan on making you drag me along every time you want
to take the bike out."

     "I want to drag you along, every time you want to go.  When
you don't, all you have to do is say so."  Jim caught Blair around the
waist and pulled him down on his lap.  "I love you."

     "I love you too," Blair replied, grinning.  "Oh, man, are you sure
about going to your dad's?"  Blair gaped at Jim's new image.  The
mustache, the goatee, the earring, the black leather...it was mind-numbingly
 sexy.  But it was also like looking at a whole different
person.

     "Right after we drop in on Simon."

     "He's going to freak."

     "Go on.  Get dressed.  We've got a whole city to shock and just
one day off to do it."

********

     The price on the motorcycle had been haggled down to $7,500,
and Jim was more than satisfied with the deal.  Armed with his own
helmet now, he fastened it into place and started out of the previous
owner's driveway, with Blair following him in the truck.  It was a
sunny, perfect Spring Sunday, and the plan was to take ride back out to
the house, ditch the truck, and take Blair out for a real ride on the new
toy.

     Jim had thoroughly enjoyed the vision of Blair in black leather. 
Watching him writhe into the pants had been an experience that had
left Jim's own a bit too snug for his own good.  With long hair loose on
his shoulders, Blair looked a bit like an escapee from a heavy metal
band.  Jim hadn't been able to resist buying for him the jacket with the
fringe and silver accents.  Or the boots with the silver buckles.  Blair
was born to make an entrance, and while Jim liked everything tailored
on his own outfit, he couldn't resist making Blair's just a bit more
flamboyant.

     Blair parked the truck and hopped out of it, heading back
toward Jim as he sat on the bike in the driveway.  

     "Helmet," he said, and Blair turned and hurried back into the
garage, picking up the new black helmet where he'd left it on the
workbench. //One more back view of the leather pants,// Jim thought,
enjoying the lecherous feelings until he felt his own pants become
uncomfortable.  

     Blair returned, not altogether oblivious to Jim's ogling, and
straddled the bike.   He sat on the seat right behind Jim, tucking his
hair behind his ears and fastening his helmet in place.

     "Hang on, Chief."  Jim smiled as he felt Blair's body pressing
against his back, arms going around him from behind and squeezing. 
Hard.  "A little looser would be good, sweetheart," Jim complained
gently, patting Blair's arm.  "I promise we won't do 90 around the
curves."  Jim waited until the grip loosened a little.  "Yet," he added,
revving the engine.

     Jim did have mercy on his partner, keeping the speeds sensible
as they first toured around the country roads a bit, enjoying the
beautiful Spring weather up close and personal in way they never could
have enclosed inside the truck.  

     Finally content they'd given the bike a good test run, Jim started
back for town, heading determinedly for Simon's place first.  To his
delight, the captain was out in his yard, raking the dead grass out of his
lawn.  Jim pulled into the driveway and just sat there a moment,
revving the engine.  He snickered inwardly as he saw Simon pause in
his work and watch the visitors with great suspicion.  Having mercy on
his boss, Jim cut the engine and pulled off his helmet.  
          
     "'afternoon, Simon," he said cheerfully, and Blair pulled his
own helmet off then.

     "Hi, Simon."

     "Sweet Lord," Simon muttered under his breath, taking in the
sight of Jim Ellison in head to toe leathers, sporting not only the facial
hair he'd recently had to learn to tolerate, but an earring now too. //Jack
Pendergrast, where the hell are you now?// he thought more than a little
desperately.

     "What do you think of the new toy?"  Blair chirped cheerfully.

     "That's quite a machine," Simon said, approaching Jim and
Blair.  "I, uh, didn't know you were still into motorcycles Jim." //Or
earrings.  Holy Shit, he's wearing that damn earring again.//

     "Blair talked me into it," Jim reported, smiling and patting
Blair's knee where it rested close to his thigh.

     "Yeah, I really had to twist his arm," Blair quipped.  "You want
to go for a ride?  I'll wait here," Blair offered.

     "Gee, thanks, but, uh...I probably better keep working."  Simon
swallowed and tried to think of the right way to ask if he was going to
see Jim show up at work the next day looking like this.  "What's with
all this?"  he asked, gesturing at the clothing.

     "Can't go out riding without the right gear," Jim responded. 
"You sure you don't want to go for a spin?"

     "I'm sure.  Thanks anyway," Simon replied, still eyeing his
visitors as if they'd just landed in pods instead of via motorcycle.  "Nice
bike, Jim."  Simon smiled then, and Jim and Blair returned it.

     "Thanks.  See you tomorrow, then."  Jim started putting on his
helmet, then paused to have a little mercy on Simon.  "I'm not
transferring back to Vice anytime soon, so you don't have to worry
about the leathers, Simon," Jim stated, chortling a little.

     "That's a relief.  I had visions of you showing up like this to our
meeting with the mayor tomorrow morning."

     "Don't tempt me," Jim replied, fastening the helmet in place and
glancing behind him to make sure Blair was ready for take-off.

     The next stop on the tour was the Ellison homestead.  The
rumble of the motorcycle engine brought William Ellison to his front
window.  Knowing his father would be less likely than Simon to
approach two strangers in black leather riding a motorcycle, Jim pulled
off his helmet and waved.  Both Jim and Blair would have paid good
money to capture the elder Ellison's expression on a video camera.

     Strolling out onto his porch, Jim's father waited until Jim and
Blair had dismounted and were heading for the front door.

     "Another undercover case, Jimmy?"  he asked.  His tone was
friendly, a bit amused.  

     "The bike's mine, Dad.  We just picked it up this morning."

     "Hi, Bill," Blair greeted, joining them on the porch.

     "You're in on this too?"  he asked Blair, as if Blair were
somehow expected to keep Jim in line and had fallen down on the job.

     "It was his idea."

     "Thanks, Jim," Blair retorted sarcastically.  "Yeah, I'm in on it. 
Jim's always liked motorcycles, and when he spotted one he liked,
there didn't seem to be much reason not to go for it."

     "Okay, the bike I understand but...what..."  He gestured at Jim's
outfit, and upward, his eyes fixing on the earring.  

     "You want us to stay out on the porch or could we come in?" 
Jim asked.

     "I didn't want to scare Sally.  She'll think it's a home invasion." 
Jim's father walked inside and stood aside near the door as Jim and
Blair walked in, laughing.  Bill Ellison had swallowed a lot of things he
didn't like to maintain his brittle peace with his son.  He'd managed to
tolerate Jim's announcement that Blair was his life partner in every
sense, he'd coped with the two of them buying a house together and
living like any other married couple, and now he was apparently trying
like hell to get past his usually conservatively dressed son looking like
a poster boy for Harley Davidson.

     "Sally's here?"

     "She's in the kitchen making dinner.  You two want to stay?  It's
just me tonight--she's going home after she fixes dinner."

     "I'm clear--how about you, Jim?"  Blair prodded his partner,
always nudging Jim when necessary to meet his father halfway.

     "I could eat," Jim responded, nodding.

     "I'll tell Sally to make sure there's enough and set a couple more
places."  He disappeared down the hall, heading for the kitchen.

     "Well, he didn't pass out," Jim said, smiling and shaking his
head.

     "Are you disappointed?"
     
     "Maybe a little," Jim answered honestly.

     "He's trying, Jim.  I think if you'd shown up in a pink tutu, he'd
have given it a shot."  Blair sat on the edge of the couch as Jim sat in a
chair in the living room.  "Maybe you wanted to see if he could accept
you on your terms, huh?"  Blair asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

     "Maybe," Jim admitted.  

     "Oh my goodness!"  Sally's exclamation startled them both from
the doorway of the living room.  "Jimmy...Blair...Oh!  What have you
done to yourself?"  She headed over to Jim as both men rose.  Jim
leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek, and she actually giggled.

     "Tickles, doesn't it?"  Blair asked mischievously, succeeding in
making Sally blush to match the red blouse she was wearing.  

     "How about a ride on my motorcycle, Sally?"  Jim asked,
smiling widely as the older woman laughed.

     "I don't think so, Jimmy.  But thank you."

     "Sally was just finishing up with dinner and getting ready to go
home, and I knew she'd never believe me if she didn't see it for
herself," Bill said, rejoining the group.

     Sally stayed long enough to serve the dinner and then took her
leave, turning down the invitation to join them.  With relatives visiting,
she had other plans for the rest of her Sunday.  

     "How is your project going at the police department?"  Bill
asked Blair as they began eating the hearty plates of pot roast and
vegetables.  "I hope the department is watching out for you a little
better than they did before."  

     "That wasn't the PD's fault," Blair said, shaking his head.  "The
whole program is new, and in all fairness, I didn't really think about the
risks as much as I should have.  We all dropped the ball on that," Blair
concluded, referring to the beating that had put him in the hospital the
past autumn.

     "You're still feeling good?"

     "Yeah, I'm fine.  Clean bill of health--I just had my annual
physical a couple months ago.  The kidney's fine."  Blair paused.  "You
know, I really appreciated you visiting me in the hospital.  I don't know
if I ever thanked you."  And Blair *had* appreciated Jim's father
showing up and setting his potted plant on the bedside table a bit
awkwardly, looking just like an elderly Jim, not too sure how his
gesture would be received, and not terribly comfortable making it.  But
trying.

     "No need."  Bill Ellison paused, as if it were hard for him to say
what he felt in so many words, not unlike his son.  "You're family now,
Blair.  This family has its problems, but we do stick together when the
chips are down."

     "Thanks, Dad," Jim said quietly, realizing there was a great deal
of meaning in that statement.  His father hadn't been pleased with
having a son-in-law instead of a daughter-in-law, but once the decision
had been made, he'd coped with it.  And once he'd spent some time
with Blair, the younger man's infectious personality had worked its
charms on him.  He'd actually called Jim on the carpet after Blair's
assault for not having foreseen it and kept a better eye on him.

     "Jimmy, I'm sorry, but I've got to ask you...that earring..."  Bill
Ellison seemed to struggle to choose his next words, then leaned
forward, speaking in a hushed tone.  "Is it a...gay thing?"

     Blair choked a little on his cooked carrot, and took a drink of
water to wash it down.  Jim laughed good-naturedly, sitting back in his
chair.  

     "I got my ear pierced on a dare in college, Dad.  I wore an
earring for a while then, and I wore one when I worked Vice.  I just felt
like trying it out again.  It's got nothing to do with my sexual
preference," he explained patiently.

     "What does the PD think about it?"

     "I don't plan on wearing it to work."  Jim chuckled.  "Though I
would pay money to watch Simon try to figure out how to deal with it
if I did.  But I'm not willing to risk some pissed off perp yanking it out
in a fight."

     "Ouch," Blair said, cringing a little as he thought of his own
earrings.

     Dinner passed with more friendly conversation, and by early
evening, the two men left, enjoying a twilight ride home on the
motorcycle.

********

     "I thought your dad handled everything pretty well," Blair
probed, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he read, propped up in
bed.  Jim had stayed up later to watch something on a news program
that caught his interest, and was just now meandering into the
bedroom.

     "Yeah, he did."  Jim tossed his robe aside and slid into bed. 
When he reached up to turn out the light, he froze in place, noticing the
new addition to his nightstand.  In a small gold frame, the 3 x 5
snapshot Blair had kept with him, hidden in the disk carrier, was sitting
next to the lamp.

     "You can move it to the dresser if it gets in your way there,"
Blair said.

     "This won't bother you--the photo being out where you can see
it?"

     "Not anymore."  Blair set his book aside and took off his
glasses, setting both items on his night stand.  "Now when I look at it, I
remember you holding me, us making love afterwards...  You know,
I'm always going to have bad memories, and it's always going to hurt
when I think back on that time...but I've gotta hand it to you, man. 
You're one hell of a dragon slayer."

     "A dragon slayer, huh?"  Jim asked, smiling a little, clearing his
throat to dispell the little tremor in his voice as he turned out the light,
sentinel eyesight taking one last look at the picture before turning over
to face Blair.  A Blair who, after all he'd endured, was every bit as
beautiful as the one in the photo.  

     "Yup."  Blair reached up and turned out his own lamp and
shifted onto his side to face Jim.  "The bad memories come back
sometimes, and you take care of it.  Get rid of them.  Take away their
power.  I mean, I still remember it, but it's like it doesn't have a hold on
me anymore.  You do that for me.  You replace all the hurt with
something...wonderful."  Blair smiled a little shakily, resting his hand
over Jim's heart.  "You slay the old dragons for me."

     "Sort of like you've done with getting me and my dad back
together."

     "You guys are doing that, not me," Blair said softly, moving
into arms Jim opened for him.

     "You're the glue that's holding it together, sweetheart.  The way
you've helped me to see things...and...maybe it's the fact that my dad
genuinely likes you, that he treats you well--maybe that's the thing that
makes me see the most good in him.  Because he's good to you.  He
really tore me a new one for not keeping a better eye on you when you
ended up in the hospital."

     "He did, huh?"  Blair chuckled a little.  "You know, Jim, I see a
lot of you in your dad.  Maybe that's why I can understand him, sort of
see where he's coming from--understand that he doesn't always say it in
so many words, but if you look in his eyes, it's there."  Blair smiled up
at Jim, who kissed his forehead in silent reply.  "Whatever the reason,
I'm glad things are going well with you guys."

     "I think tonight was maybe the first time..."  Jim shrugged.  "It's
hard to explain, but it felt like he finally...*accepted* me.  On *my*
terms."

     "You know what I think?"  Blair paused.  "I think he always
loved you, that he was lousy at being a parent and screwed up more
times than you could probably count, but I think that in his mind, what
he did was somehow supposed to make things better for you.  He was
raising a champion--setting up this system of rewards and punishments
like he'd do for his subordinates in the corporate world."

     "It's hard to look at it that way when you're so close to it."

     "He hurt you, and Stephen.  But I think mostly you.  In a warped
sort of way, you may have been his favorite all along.  Or at least the
one he had the most faith in as a winner.  He drove you harder, came
down on you harder and expected more.  From somebody like your
dad, that's probably a sign he thought you were the most likely to
succeed."  Blair sighed.  "It's hard, you know, when you tell me things
he did, like selling your bike or getting rid of the drums--it seems so
damned...*mean*.  Then he turns around and is so nice to me, and
accepts us, and really *tries*..."  Blair shook his head a little.  "Maybe
he thought playing the drums and riding a motorcycle would turn you
into a hoodlum or something."

     "I think that *was* what he worried about.  I wanted to put a
band together in high school, and I was going to school on the Harley
every day...  I think the image bothered him--he couldn't deal with it."

     "And now he has.  Tonight.  You showed up looking like his
worst nightmare, with your male lover along for the ride, and he *dealt
with it*.  That's progress, man."

     "It is, isn't it?"  Jim smiled, leaning in to kiss Blair's mouth
soundly.  "What do you say we make a little progress now, huh?"  Jim
let a hand stray down to squeeze Blair's ass, and Blair responded by
humping against him.

     Both men were very groggy when six a.m. rolled around.

********

     "Jim, c'mon, if you wanna eat!  What's the hold up, man?!" 
Blair called up from the foot of the stairs, then laughed at himself.  Not
only did he not have to walk to the foot of the stairs, but he didn't have
to raise his voice.  Even now, he was still capable of forgetting the
extent of Jim's abilities.  Returning to the kitchen, Blair dished up the
eggs and the toast, making a mental note not to let Jim get away with
toasting a couple of bagels when it was his turn to do breakfast.

     "Sorry, Chief.  Smells great," Jim said, kissing the back of
Blair's head as he moved past him to take the coffee pot to the table
and pour two cups.  

     "No problem, man.  I just figured with that meeting you've got
with the mayor this morning that you wouldn't want to be la--" Blair
stopped dead in his tracks, almost dropping the two plates on the floor. 
"Your...you shaved...*everything*."

     "Not quite everything, sweetheart," Jim responded, laughing. 
He had shaved off the mustache and the goatee, but all other hair was
still intact.  "Disappointed?"  he asked.

     "Depends on why you shaved it off," Blair responded, still
standing there a bit stunned as Jim took the two plates out of his hands
and set them on the table.  "If it's because *you* wanted to, then no, I'm
not."

     "I came to a realization last night," Jim said simply, sitting
down as Blair did.  "That guy with the goatee and the earring...he's not
me anymore.  He's someone who needed to prove something, who
needed a lot of...*visuals* to get his point across, make his mark."

     "But last night changed that?"

     "I looked in the mirror this morning, and I realized I didn't have
anything else I needed to prove--well, everyone does, but at least
nothing that I could accomplish with goatees and earrings."  Jim
shrugged.  "It's hard to put it into words exactly..."

     "You needed to test everybody's limits a little?"  Blair probed,
smiling.

     "Yeah, maybe," Jim said, nodding. "I guess making my own
choices was addictive--not worrying about pleasing anyone.  And you...
you were always pleased as long as I was."  Jim took a hold of Blair's
hand.  "I just didn't feel the need to play the rebel role anymore.  Well,
at least not with the goatee," Jim added, grinning devilishly.  "Now the
drums, the bike and the leathers--especially yours--they stay."  

     "You're always going to be a rebel, man.  It's in your blood,"
Blair said, laughing as he covered their joined hands with his free hand.
Then he became more serious.  "Maybe it makes more sense to say that
you're an individualist with a strong distaste for authority."

     "That's a rebel, Chief," Jim responded, laughing.  

     "Not exactly.  You like to do things your own way, you don't
enjoy taking orders but you will if you don't have a serious conflict
with them.  You *will* work within the system...*most* of the time,"
Blair added with a grin.  "A rebel... that's just a person with a lot of
anger inside who needs to make a point all the time, resists for
resistance's sake.  Maybe working things out with your dad...maybe it
quelled a little of that anger.  Maybe not being stifled was all you
needed all along.  Instead of pounding you into shape to fit a certain
mold, maybe given a little freedom, you'd have come around to it in
your own good time."

     "And now I have."

     "But now being the person you are is your choice, not someone
else's choice for you.  You had total freedom to choose whatever image
you wanted--you still do.  Even your dad came around and *handled*
everything you threw at him.  That makes for a lot less inner conflict. 
You are who you want to be."

     "Thank you."  Jim pulled Blair's hand up and kissed the back of
it.

     "I didn't do this, Jim.  You did it."

     "No, I didn't.  All these years and I didn't do it.  At least, not
effectively.  I did the whole rebellion thing in Vice, but I wasn't happy
there either."

     "Even then, Jim, you didn't dress that way or wear the earring
because it was right for you.  You did it to piss everyone off.  Again,
someone else was indirectly making your choices for you.  Their
reactions were what drove you to do what you did.  Not because it was
necessarily right for you."  Blair was quiet a minute.  "You needed to
get in touch with Jim Ellison, the one that's in here."  He pointed at
Jim's chest.  "He just needed a chance to be heard, to choose what was
right for him.  All your life, somebody else has been calling the shots. 
It was your turn, man."  Jim caught the hand that pointed and kissed it.

     "He also needed someone to bring him out, and you did that,
sweetheart."

     "Hey, if you could deal with the basket of bones you got back
from Watson, I could handle your inner self," Blair responded, smiling
a little sadly.  "There wasn't much left of me when you got me--a
scrawny guy with bad color and lopsided hair who occasionally had
such violent nightmares that he pissed himself.  If you could love the
*me* that was deep underneath all that, why is it so remarkable that I
could love whatever *you* is deep underneath all your layers?"

     "You were always beautiful to me, baby," Jim said softly, laying
a hand on the side of Blair's face, stroking the cheek with his thumb.  

     "And you've always been beautiful to me--with or without the
cookie duster."  Blair smiled widely now, brushing a thumb over Jim's
smooth upper lip.  "I could just suck on that mouth all day," he said
breathily.

     "I don't think I can use that for an excuse with the mayor,
sweetheart."  Jim nipped at the thumb, trapping it between his lips,
then releasing it with a kiss.  "Oh, shit."  Jim checked his watch,
jumping out of his chair.  

     "Sandwiches," they said simultaneously, stuffing the scrambled
eggs between two pieces of cooling toast and running for the door.

     As Jim started up the truck with an egg sandwich in one hand, a
little frustrated sexual desire simmering beneath the surface, and the
object of that desire dribbling scrambled egg on the truck seats, he had
to laugh to himself.  

     //This is your life, Jim Ellison...and you're the luckiest bastard
on earth...//

********
The End...Until Next Time :-)