If You Give This Man A Ride
---------------------------
"This is a National Weather Service Emergency Bulletin.
Montague, Hardison and Wichita counties are now under a tornado
warning. Take shelter immediately. Do not - "
With a snarl lt. James Ellison reached over and snapped off
the radio. The warning had been interrupting weather reports for
the past twenty minutes.
{Damn Colonel North anyhow. Why did he insist we jump in
this storm? Is he trying to get us killed?!}
Pressing his foot on the accelerator, he sped up as much as
he dared on the rain-slicked road.
Ahead, in the dark clouds, lightning flashed. The rumble of
thunder was quiet as it moved further away. The storm was dying
down, but he knew from experiencing two other years of this
fifth season that the absence of thunder and lightning didn't
make it less dangerous. And the cold rain would continue for
hours, sometimes coming down in sheets, like it was now, or
merely damp drizzles.
He'd taken over the driving as soon as he got into the jeep.
It wasn't that he didn't trust the young corporal North had sent
to retrieve them when they were blown miles from their intended
landing site, Ellison was just very conscious of his
responsibility to the men he commanded.
"Hey, what's that?" beside him his closest buddy -- the
only guy in the unit he really hung out with, Eli Aredondo,
-- put a hand on his shoulder and pointed ahead of them. James
slowed the vehicle and strained his eyes, but couldn't make out
much more than a shadow through the grey billows of rain. If the
sun *was* out, they hadn't seen it all day. It was perpetual
twilight.
"I don't see anything." the two men in the back were
looking interested, both had been dozing, tired after waking at
four, jumping, and then walking several miles to reach the pickup
point carrying their bundled chutes, which had been impossible to
fold in the wind.
"Trust me, old man."
James grimaced. Turning twenty-eight last month hadn't been
the highlight of his life, but it wasn't *that* bad.
"Right, Dondo." he replied, pulling the jeep over. As they
got closer he could see what Eli saw.
A small, slender form, backpack hanging from slumped
shoulders, long curly hair soaked through over a flannel shirt,
which, with baggy jeans, offered little protection from the
startling May cold. 5'5", maybe 120 lbs dripping wet, which she
was just now.
"Hey!" peeling open his window, James shouted. "There's a
tornado warning! You want a ride?"
In the back Steve Harper and Gary Spenser mumbled at this
breach of regulations. James ignored them, watching the -- kid?
turn and stare at them warily as she shivered.
{Probably a runaway. Can't leave her out here to freeze to
death.}
Although he knew that it was strictly against regulations to
pick up hitchhikers in a government vehicle, he also knew they
would make an exception in a case like this.
"It's okay. We're from Fort Sill, Army Airborne. I'm
Lieutenant Ellison."
The form just stood there, staring, looking defensive.
{Probably doesn't want to be returned home.} His mind
flashing briefly on his own home, which he'd left as soon as he
possibly could, James felt a glimmer of understanding. Taking a
deep breath, he opened the door and stepped out into the rain,
wincing as the cold cut through his jacket and went straight to
his skin.
Gary and Steve howled, laughing and egging him on.
"Hey, Ellison's gonna be a hero!"
"Go get her, man, she looks about your type!"
A glare from Eli silenced them, but they still snickered.
"Hey." stepping closer, James tried to make out features,
but most of the face was hidden by straggly wet hair and the
paisley bandanna tied over the top of her head. The ends whipped
into the face, showing by contrast how pale it was, drawn and
cold.
But a pair of the biggest, bluest eyes he'd ever seen stared
out at him, with an expression of defiant misery.
"Listen, there really is a storm coming. And the next town is
still another thirty minutes driving. You'll be forever walking
in this rain. Let us give you a ride."
You're not cops?" the words were mangled by the wind, the
voice harsh.
"No, we're army rangers. You don't sound so good. How long
have you been walking?"
A limp shrug.
"I left Dallas a couple of days ago, in Texas. Been walking
ever since. Nobody would give me a ride."
The words broke into hoarse coughing and James was beside her
immediately, the rain and cold forgotten. Lifting the pack from
the shaking shoulder, he put an arm around her waist gingerly and
offered support until the fit passed and she could straighten.
There was a brief span of time when the short hitchhiker leaned
on him gratefully, and then she pulled away, shaking the hair out
of her face, pushing it back with both hands.
"I'd like a ride, yeah." the words were soft but James heard
them anyhow. He didn't question how he heard them, under the wind
and rain, just gestured toward the jeep and followed her to it.
"She's freezing, Dondo," he said, opening the door and
sticking his head in. "Climb in back and give her the front,
willya?"
The interior of the jeep was dark, nobody had turned on the
overhead light, but Eli reached to do it now as he climbed over
the seat, eliciting grunts and complaints from the other two as
they shifted to make room.
James handed the pack over to Gary, who turned to stow it in
the back and missed the cause of the gasp that was repeated in
the jeep a second later.
Under the bright greenish light the kid did look sickly. And
now that they could see clearly, see the high cheekbones and
rough five o'clock shadow and wide mouth, he also looked quite
male. A pretty boy, but definitely a guy.
Halfway into the jeep, one knee on the seat, he stopped as
they stared.
"What? No ride now?" it was sighed, resigned.
"No, of course you're getting a ride." James assured,
glaring at the other men, who were staring.
"No hippies allowed, Lieutenant." Steve snarled.
"Punk flower-child need not apply.' Gary agreed. Eli just
sat back and watched.
"Can it." James snapped. "He's cold and he's wet and he's
probably getting sick. Leave him alone."
Eli's nod was approving.
"Come on, kid, we need to get on the road." James fought
down a grin. The kid looked pretty pathetic, his hair matted
down, face so pale, butt still stuck out in the rain.
After a minute he climbed the rest of the way in and shut
the door awkwardly, settling into the corner, shivering. James
started the engine back up and turned the heat on high, directing
the vents in his direction.
They got back on the road. The kid was still shivering, his
arms wrapped around himself vainly.
"Hand me that blanket, Eli." James said over his shoulder.
The younger man dug in the back for a bit and came up with the
old green wool thing they used for ground cover. They hadn't
needed it today, so it was relatively clean. Handing it to the
kid, Eli shook his head and then leaned over the seat to tuck it
efficiently around him.
"Thanks, man." the big eyes were grateful, the slender
hands clutched at the warmth.
"So what's your name, kid?" Eli asked, sitting back.
"Blair."
"Not Peace or Rainbow or Love or StarChild?" Steve smirked.
"Just Blair." there was a certain dignity in that hoarse
voice.
"What are you doing out here alone? Your dad beat up on
you?" James said it gently, not noticing the curious look Eli
gave him.
A shake of the head.
"I don't have a father." a pause, and then, a surprise,
volunteered information. "I'm on my way to school."
Silence met that statement. Then James made a face as he
asked; "What, your mom couldn't spring for a bus ticket?"
"I wanted to hitch." the kid shrugged, losing a bit of
blanket in the process. "It want to see a bit more of the US
before I leave it again."
"You're not even an American?!" Steve snarled. "Great!
We're gonna get busted for picking up some commie-loving
flower-child fag!"
"That's *enough*!" Ellison's voice cracked like a whip.
"Another word out of you, Harper, and you're on report."
"Sir, yes, Sir!" Harper responded smartly, but there was
still a touch of insolence in it. James kept his attention on the
road, but listened to the boy beside him. He seemed to be having
trouble drawing a deep breath, James could almost hear it.
"So, just how old are you?"
"Old enough to run my own life." the kid snapped.
"Come on, kid, cut me some slack. I'm not going to send you
home."
Eli blinked at that.
"I know how it can be. Where are you really going?"
"I'm seventeen." the kid sounded resigned again. "I've been
accepted to Texas A&M, I've got a scholarship there. Right now
I'm going to Norman, Oklahoma, to see an old friend of my mom's."
Knowing Harper was going to make a crack, James snapped at him
before he had the chance to.
"Silence, Harper."
"You don't look seventeen." Eli observed dryly.
"I clean up older." the blue eyes looked mischievous, just
for a moment, but it was clear he wasn't ready to trust them
entirely. "Do you think you could drop me off at the Y or
something?"
"It'll be pretty late by the time we get there." although he
was used to feeling protective, James wondered why he felt so
strongly about this young man. "You can crash at my place."
Harper smothered a snort and Eli looked worried.
"Lieutenant. This kid could be blowing smoke here."
"I've got ID," the kid said. "I can prove how old I am.
Even got the letter from the school about my scholarship. But I
don't want to stay on any *military* base anyhow." he sneered the
word.
"It's okay, Aredondo. I'll take care of it." James
answered his friend. "I live off base." he told the kid. "Why
don't you try to rest a bit until we get there? I've got to drop
these guys off and go check in the equipment, can I trust you
there alone for a while?"
"I'm not gonna rip you off, man." the kid shook his head a
little, wet hair slapping his face. "That would be, like, such
bad karma."
Without knowing why, James believed him.
The rest of the drive was silent. The storm worsened and
James had to concentrate on driving. The kid -- Blair -- leaned
his head over in the window and curled his legs up on the seat
and dozed off.
***
"Hey, kid. Wake up." James was shaking his shoulder.
With a start Blair sat up, bumping his head on the door.
"It's okay. This is my place. Get inside and get yourself
warm. I'll be back in an hour or so." James dangled a key on a
braided leather strap.
The other three men were staring at him with varying levels
of mistrust and, in Steve's case, anger.
His hand shook as he took the key.
"You sure, man? I wouldn't want to get you into any trouble."
"I can take care of myself, kid. Let me do my good deed for
the year, okay?" the smile James gave him was open and friendly.
"Just don't touch any weapons, you hear?"
"I am like, so not into guns, man." climbing out, the wind
hit him full force and he ran to the door of the condo. "Thanks,
man!" he shouted over his shoulder as he opened the door and
almost fell into the hall.
He didn't know if the army guy had heard him, but he sure
hoped so.
***
Standing in the hall, dripping on the tile, he wasn't sure
what to expect. There were no pictures or paintings on the wall.
There was a door on one side and an archway on the other that led
into a carpeted living room, sparsely furnished with a large
green leather sofa and matching chair, coffee table and
lamp-stand, and a small television. There was a rack stereo system
in the corner, and Blair could see the white tile of the kitchen
on the other side of a small breakfast bar.
In front of him was a flight of carpeted stairs.
He looked at the living room. Looked at the stairs.
Looked down at his dripping, shivering self.
"Would be pretty rude to get the man's house all wet." he
told himself, forcing his hands to move, to begin unbuttoning the
flannel shirt he wore over a tank. "I'll just pile these here and
come down for them when I'm dry."
The upstairs was a bedroom, a big bathroom, and a smaller
room that looked to be filled with junk. Everything was on the
right side of the house, it was a little odd to think about
somebody living just past the next wall, with only the closets to
separate them.
{Like sardines in a can.} he thought with a shudder that had
nothing to do with cold. He liked open spaces, room to move, to
breathe. That's why he was going to be an archaeologist, travel
the world, see everything there was to see, study it and document
..a harder shiver drew him from his almost drowsy thoughts and
into the bathroom again.
It was really, really clean. The whole place was. He silently
vowed to clean up any mess he made.
Towels on the rack, and a tub-stall. After less than a second
of internal debate he went for the bath, needing to get really
warm.
Sinking into the too-hot water ten minutes later, he grit his
teeth and hissed, feeling his balls draw up into the protection
of his body. But then the near-pain faded and he was surrounded
by blessed heat, cradled in it.
Sighing deeply, he lay his head back and relaxed for the
first time in two days.
He'd drawn the curtain around the tub to keep from splashing
on the floor, and it had the added benefit of keeping the steam
in, making it a little easier for him to breathe.
{I'll have to find an herbalist and make some medicine for
this.} he thought sleepily. {Before I get really sick.}
He must have dozed off. The next thing he heard was the door
opening and a grumble of distaste before his name was shouted up
the stairs.
"Kid? You up there? What's with the clothes on the floor?"
Rising awkwardly from the tub, he grabbed for a towel and
cinched it around his waist, throwing another over his hair
before stepping out of the bathroom and looking down the stairs.
Ellison was standing there, frowning, his hands full with his
duffel and Blair' s wet pack. He blinked at the undressed form
above him, his eyes noting the thick swatch of chest hair that
bolstered the boy's claim to age, the square set of the shoulders
and narrow hips under the towel, almost against his will.
"Oh, hey, I'm sorry, man. I meant to get those, I guess I
fell asleep in the tub." he stammered, worried the guy was going
to kick him out on his butt. He'd just gotten warm, he didn't
want to leave now.
"I'll cut you some slack this time." the smile was faint but
there. "You hungry? I was going to heat some soup."
"That would be great." completely comfortable in the towel,
Blair started down the steps. "I've got clean clothes in my bag."
he said at Ellison's raised eyebrow.
"It's soaked through." James shook his head. "You'll have to
wash everything in it. Let me grab you some sweats." Dropping the
pack on the floor beside the wet clothes, he pushed past Blair on
the narrow stairway. His arm and side brushed against the boy and
he suddenly felt flushed. "Make way, kid," he said it more
harshly than he'd intended and saw that face tighten and the kid
draw himself in, making himself small. Not that that was so hard
to do. He looked slightly confused.
James regretted putting that expression on his face, so he
talked a little while digging through a clean stack of folded
laundry that was sitting on his big bed.
"Hey, listen. Don't mind me. I snarl a lot, but I don't mean
anything by it." he handed the clothes over.
"S'okay." the kid shrugged and went back into the bathroom.
James waited for him to come out, putting away the laundry.
The quiet words behind him didn't startle him at all.
"These are just what I needed. Thank you."
{I knew he was there.} his mind considered this concept, but
he ignored it. {Of course I did, I knew it wasn't going to take
him long to change.}
James turned, closing the dresser drawer, and glanced at the
kid.
The warm black sweats hung on him like a scarecrow and James
had to bite back a laugh. But he'd pulled his wet hair back into
a tail and now his face was clear, stubble and all. There were
dark circles under those eyes, and he looked too thin.
Leading him back downstairs, he opened the folding doors at
the back of the kitchen that hid the washer and the dryer.
"Better start your stuff before it gets mildewed." he said,
turning away to dig in the cabinets. Coming up with two cans of
tomato soup, he put them on the stove, added milk, and began
getting out place-mats and bowls and spoons.
"You want a b-" he stopped himself. Giving alcohol to a
minor really wasn't something he wanted to do.
"A glass of milk will be fine." Blair turned away from the
washer and grinned at him. The expression lit his face, making
him more than cute.
{Damn, there's nothing to him.} James though, pouring the
requested glass. {But what there is *is* very nice to look at.}
He didn't stop to wonder where that thought came from, just
shoved it down and grabbed a beer for himself.
The kid went to the stove and tasted the soup. Making a face,
he opened the cabinet over the stove and checked out the spices.
"Make yourself at home." James meant it to be teasing, but
the kid stopped and looked at him, unsure. Sitting at the table,
James smiled a little. "I mean it. Go ahead."
"I just thought it could use something." he ducked his head
and reached for a jar. "Some basil, maybe some marjoram..."
"You gonna doctor my soup?"
A shrug and then a small smile that made Ellison wonder if
the kid ever really smiled.
"You want I should make some sandwiches to go with it? I'm a
pretty good cook."
"Knock yourself out." Moving to the living room, James turned
on the TV and switched to the weather channel.
A few minutes later the kid sat beside him.
"I put together some turkey melts. Will that be okay?"
"You use the cheddar or the American?"
"The cheddar..."
"I like that." James grinned. Then frowned as the kid
shivered again and bent over coughing. "You sound sick."
"I'll be okay. I just need to get warm for a while and get
some rest. I didn't stop to sleep last night, I was too cold and
tired."
"Do you want to call anybody? Your mom maybe?"
"She's somewhere in Australia right now. Even if I could get
her, I wouldn't want to do that to your phone bill, dude."
"I'm not hurting, kid. If you keep it short it's okay."
He saw the glance at the clock.
"Maybe in the morning, I wouldn't want to wake her up."
He sat quietly while the news droned on. After another few
minutes he got up to flip the sandwiches.
"It's about ready," he said, carrying the pot to the table
and setting it on the ceramic tile there. "You gonna eat?"
"As long as you promise that you aren't trying to poison
me."
This time the grin was wider, and more mischief shined
through.
"Who, me? Poison the man who saved me? Like, *so* not, man."
Grinning at the surfer-dude mannerisms, James sat to eat.
The kid had found the box of crackers and put them on the
table as well.
The turkey and cheese was good, the soup was infinitely
better with a little spice.
"That was good," James said, sounding surprised.
"I'll clean up." standing quickly, Blair moved to clear the
table, but was caught by another coughing fit. This one doubled
him over, forcing him to lean on the table and James, worried,
went behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"You should see a doctor, kid."
A fierce head-shake, coughing too hard to speak, then the
words gasped out.
"N - n- no. No doctor."
"Then go on to bed, I'll clean up here. I've got to take
care of some other stuff too."
When the spasm eased Blair went back into the living room
and curled up on the couch silently. James stared down at him,
debating.
"You can have the bed, if you want."
"Fine here, man." now the wariness was back. "Just throw a
blanket at me."
Getting a thick blanket and a spare pillow from the closet,
James covered him with surprising gentleness.
"Just yell if you need anything, okay?" he rested his hand
briefly on the smooth forehead, feeling the beginnings of heat
there .
"Yeah. Hey, James?" the small voice caught him as he
started back to the kitchen. He didn't answer, just waited.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Cause you're a kid and you're alone." he shrugged.
"That's reason enough."
"Oh. Okay. Thanks a load, man. You saved my life tonight."
James chuckled, starting to fill the sink with water.
"Not hardly."
***
Sitting up in his bed in the dark room, James opened his
eyes.
Something had woken him...a sound?
There it was again. Raspy, raw...breathing?
The kid was having trouble breathing.
Not wondering how he could hear him from the top of the house
at the back of the stairs, James stood and pulled on a pair of
jeans over his boxers. The kid seemed spooked by his kindness
sometimes, like he expected there to be a price and the older man
didn't want to make him uncomfortable by appearing in the middle
of the night in his underwear.
Approaching the couch quietly, not wanting to wake him if he
were still asleep, James leaned over the back of it, brushing his
fingertips over Blair' s forehead lightly, feeling the wrinkles
there as he wheezed and shifted minutely, his sleep shallow and
restless.
The heat from his skin seemed to burn through James' and he
took his hand away quickly. Listening, he could *hear* the
thickness of his lungs, probably clogged with moisture from the
two days of cold wet exposure.
"Hey, kid. Blair." he shook him gently. "You don't sound so
good."
Rolling to his back, Blair grasped the blanket tightly to
him and shoved to the other end of the couch. James didn't
follow, just talked soothingly, not wanting him to think
something weird was going on. Eyes wide but still sleepy, the kid
listened, relaxing.
"Hey, I could hear you from upstairs. Maybe you should let
me take you to the clinic."
A shake of his head brought on a coughing spell. James was
beside him then, crouching on the floor, rubbing his back gently,
feeling the heat even through the thick cotton material.
"I don't want you getting sick here, kid." he made it sound
like he just didn't want the trouble and the kid stared at him
wide-eyed. "Let me get you some tylenol and juice, maybe some
Vicks Rub for your chest."
"O - okay." he croaked, still staring. He watched as James
went up the stairs and fetched the supplies. Pouring a glass of
juice, the big man brought it over and pressed two tablets into
his hand.
"Drink it all." he insisted when Blair hesitated, holding up
the bottle. "See? Just tylenol. Plain old OJ."
When the juice was gone he set the glass on the table and
held up the little blue bottle of Vick's Vapo-Rub.
"Pull your shirt up and lie back." he instructed, keeping
his tone matter-of-fact. He wanted the kid to relax a and let him
help, so they could both get some rest.
{Yeah, right.} his mind scolded, but he ignored it. The
whole reaction he was having to this kid was putting him on edge.
{I don't need to think about this now.} he turned his attention
back to the kid.
"When I was little and I got a cold, my mom would rub this
on my chest. It helped me breathe. I remember, after she died,
how much I missed that." he shared the story softly, seeking to
gain trust.
"You must have missed her a lot." It was working, the kid
lay down and tugged the sweatshirt up, exposing the well-furred
chest, small brown nipples surrounded by soft-looking whorls of
chestnut hair. A glint of gold made James blink as he realized
what was twisted through the left nipple.
He didn't even let himself focus on it long enough to see it
clearly.
"I think that was why I liked it." James continued, taking a
glob of the thick salve and beginning to rub it gently over the
thinly-muscled torso. "Because then she would sit with me for a
while and read to me until I fell asleep. Even though my dad said
I was too old for it."
He could feel the heat of the slender body, and how it was
relaxing as the fumes eased his breathing.
"My mom...she doesn't believe in western medicine," the kid
said sleepily. James finished rubbing and gently pulled the shirt
back down, tucking the blanket tight around him again. He'd been
careful not to touch anything he shouldn't. Blair sighed and
closed his eyes, turning and snuggling into the back of the
couch. Standing, James stroked his hand across the tangled hair,
now dry, to comfort the boy.
"You should be able to sleep now." he said softly.
Hearing the deeper sigh that was the only response, he
turned and went back upstairs. After washing his hands, he
crawled back into his bed and lay awake for a long while, trying
not to think.
And not to hear the breathing and heartbeat of the kid
downstairs, even when they seemed to fill his head.
{My imagination is working overtime.} he thought just before
he finally drifted off. {There's no way I'm actually hearing
that.}
***
James woke up to the sound of Blair's breath rattling in his
lungs again. Worried, he checked the clock -- just past six.
Pulling his jeans back on, he hurried down the stairs to check on
the kid. It was wild...he could have sworn he felt the heat of
that fever from across the room.
Blair had pushed all the covers off himself during the
night, and his sweatshirt rode up his chest. His concave belly
glistened with fevered sweat, and James' eyes couldn't help but be
caught by the piece of bright metal that threaded through his
left nipple.
{What the fuck? This kid's mother must be a loony-tune!} the
pierced nipple was almost too much for him. It was just too
strange, too far put of his range of experience.
Sitting on the edge of the couch, James touched the kid's
forehead lightly. He was burning up. Curled into a tight ball, he
groaned quietly and shifted away from James' weight.
As gently as he could James shook the lean shoulders and
said his name quietly.
"Blair. *Blair*. Hey, kid, wake up."
Those blue eyes fluttered open, stared at him, unfocused.
Just as James was going to start panicking, they fixed on
him and the kid sighed deeply, relaxing into the couch again.
"James. Yeah. I'm awake, man. My head hurts."
"You've got a fever." relieved to hear him talking
coherently, James lay him back on the couch and went to the
kitchen. "I want you to drink some juice and then take a lukewarm
bath."
Blair started to shake his head and thought better of it,
made a disgusted noise.
"Hey man, you're not my Mom, you know."
Coming back into the living room with a large glass of apple
juice, James handed it to him with a stern look that always
worked on young enlisted men.
"Just think of me as your designated caretaker." he grinned
slightly.
The answering grin he got was small, but welcome. This kid
didn't smile enough. He was way too serious.
Sipping the juice, the kid half-sat and eyed the big ranger.
"You know, you did sort of save my life last night. I don't
know if I would have made it through that storm. There's a
Chinese legend that says that when you save someone's life you
become their blessed protector, for the rest of your life."
"But you've got to go to school eventually, kid."
The juice was sipped slowly, making James wonder if his
throat was sore as well. Taking the empty glass, he watched from
the kitchen as the kid pulled himself up with visible effort and
almost staggered toward the stairs.
"Let me help." moving swiftly, he slid an arm under the
kid's shoulders and took part of his weight, adroitly steering
them up the stairs and into the bathroom. Depositing him on the
edge of the tub, he leaned to run the water, almost cold but not
quite.
"Don't you have to go to work?" Blair sounded just a bit
worried, and perhaps embarrassed.
"I don't have to be in until eight." standing over the boy,
looking down at him, James really looked at him for a minute.
He wasn't as small as he James perceived him to be, it was all
that hair and those big eyes that threw him.
"Um." he stood still, indecisive. "Do you need, um, any
help? You know, getting in or anything?"
He watched as those eyes got round, like big blue pools.
"uh...no. No, I think I can handle this mission on my own,
soldier-boy."
Stepping out of the bathroom, going to get more clean
sweats, James wondered why he'd even offered. He could get
himself into a shitload of trouble for touching a kid like that.
The thought brought him up short.
Shaking his head, he pulled out the sweats and went
downstairs to heat some more soup.
Opening the bathroom door a crack, he peeked in.
"Kid. You okay?"
"I'm fucking cold, man."
Seeing that the shower curtain was drawn around the tub, he
went in and set the blue sweats on the toilet.
"Does your mother know you talk like that?"
"My mom never worries much about what I say, dude. They're
just words."
"Mm. If you say so."
He was beginning to think this kid's mother was a nut...or
imaginary.
"Here're some clean clothes. I gotta get into uniform.
There's some soup downstairs on the coffee table for you. I don't
want to leave until you're out of the tub."
"I *can* take care of myself, man."
"Hey." Standing by the door, ready to duck out, James felt a
need to say something.
"It's not a crime to let somebody help you out, kid. I'm not
expecting anything in return here."
A bashful face stuck out from behind the curtain. He looked
pale and tired.
"You're right. I'm not being fair. You've been great, James.
Thank you."
James listened to him climb out of the tub, shivering, and
dry himself briskly before he dressed. He didn't stop to ask
himself how he knew that was what the kid was doing. By the time
James headed out the door nearly forty minutes later Blair was
back on the couch, the remote control in hand, sipping at cooling
chicken noodle soup.
"I'll call and check on you at lunch, okay?"
He got a grateful smile and a wave.
"I'm fine, man, gonna sleep all day. You'll be back before I
know it."
The day did pass quickly for Blair.
He spent it in a haze of heat, cold and soap operas...
scantily dressed women chasing impenetrable plots that always
seemed to lead them to the bad guy's bed.
The fever alternately boiled and chilled him.
He thought about getting up to get a drink, or make some
more soup. Several times, in fact.
Then the thought would slip away like the actresses'
clothes.
He didn't notice when lunch time came and went.
He didn't notice when dinner time came and went.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered that James
said he would call him at lunch. And although he seemed to
remember that soap operas were on in the afternoon, his fever-
addled brain couldn't wrap around that enough to convince him
that the hours were rapidly passing by.
And so he sat in front of the TV, soon too weak to even turn
the channels, and it droned on endlessly through the afternoon
and evening and into the night.
By the time it got dark the still form on the couch was no
longer aware of the pictures and sounds coming from the
idiot box.
Because the virus that was ravaging his body had dragged his
mind even lower than an infomercial could.
James cursed softly under his breath as he pulled into his
parking space. The interior of the big black bronco was chilly,
it hadn't even had time to warm up, he'd driven so fast.
He could see that the lights weren't on but the television
was.
There had been an exercise. Base-wide. A mock-up of a
terrorist attack, nobody allowed off, the phones off-limits
except for emergencies.
He hoped the kid hadn't waited up for him, he needed his
sleep. He hadn't been able to manufacture an excuse to call
On the other hand, the kid *had* said he could take care of
himself.
Unlocking the front door, he let himself in silently. He
hadn't called when he got off, either, not wanting to wake the
kid if he was resting. After crawling on hands and knees through
the brush that encircled the base, looking for the bogey, he'd
been filthy, so he'd taken the time to shower and change at the
gym on base, where he kept a stash of clothes.
Something was wrong.
He knew it the instant he stepped in, the way he would know
if he were dying.
He might have flown across the room to the couch, he got
there so fast. The ragged, raspy breaths filled the room.
He had no reason to question his ability to hear them this
time. Really afraid...more afraid than he could remember having
been in a very long time -- the raspy gasps were actually louder
than the droning TV -- he crouched beside the slumped ball of
teenager and touched his face tenderly.
"oh, *shit*."
Blair moaned and turned from the touch.
Yanking his hand back, he stared for a minute. Blair's
heartbeat pounded in his ears and he thought the kid must be
dying for it to be so fast and so loud.
"I'm taking you to the hospital, kid." he said with grim
determination. Running, he opened the front door and the
passenger door on the truck, then came back to gather the slight
body in his arms.
"Should have taken you last night."
The gurgling noise when he breathed had to be pneumonia.
Blair struggled weakly when James lifted him and cradled him to his
chest. The heat rolled off him in waves.
Spying the kid's pack where he had left it, but the door,
James made a mental note. After carrying him to the truck and
buckling him in -- Blair stopped fighting and seemed to sink
deeper into delirium -- he went back and dug through it, coming
up with a battered leather wallet.
He automatically headed for the base when he pulled away
from the house, but had to stop himself, reversing course and
heading back into town. The kid wasn't military, he had to take
him to the civilian hospital.
Even at three a.m. the ER parking lot was crowded. Not
caring if he got a ticket or was even towed, James parked right
in front and dashed out, running around to grab the kid, who
hadn't moved *at all* during the fifteen-minute ride. If anything
his breathing had grown worse.
No nurses or doctors or even orderlies appeared at the doors
when he strode in, the boy again cradled in his arms.
The room was filled with people. Wandering up and down the
hall, hurrying, scurrying....there was a line in front of the
glassed-in nurse's desk.
Pushing past the people in line, using his size to
intimidate them, James got right up to the glass, where a large
woman in lavender scrubs frowned at him.
"Hey!" James shouted when she turned away, clasping a handful
of paperwork. "This kid is really sick!"
When she ignored him, he had to do something. With his hands
full, all he could think of was to bang his head on the thick
safety glass.
"*Dammit*, I'm serious here!" the roar brought a security
guard from the doors and a nurse from the back, both at a dead
run.
The guard was larger than James and looked to be in decent
shape, but he hesitated when he saw the anger on the ranger's
face.
"What's the problem, sir?" the nurse, an young woman, about
twenty-five, was right beside him, her hands gently turning
Blair's head and checking his pulse.
She looked at the woman behind the glass and said, angrily;
"I'm taking this man back! You can do his paperwork there!"
and with that she laid a hand on James' arm and steered him
toward the big steel double-doors that led to the treatment
ward.
"Have you got him?" she asked. "Just bring him this way..."
Too relieved to say anything, James followed her. She led
him to a tiny curtained-off corner, where there was a bed and a
stool. He lay Blair down on it gently, wincing when the kid made
a garbled noise and clutched at him.
He tried again to put him down, but the sick boy had
apparently decided that James was his lifeline in whatever
fever-induced hallucination was taking over his mind, and he
clung all the tighter.
"Why don't you just sit and hold him for now." she said.
"I'll have the doctor here in five minutes."
Thinking that would be five minutes too long, James sat
gingerly on the flat bed, curling his body over Blair's to
prevent straining his back, and freed one hand from around him to
stroke the tangled, sweaty hair out of his face.
"I should have brought you last night." he said softly.
"Dammit, why didn't I bring you last night?"
Finally the curtain was lifted briefly and a tall man with
very short black hair and a scruffy face in blue scrubs stepped
in.
"Hi. I'm doctor Ross. What have we got here?"
He leaned over Blair, checking his pulse and feeling his
forehead, talking the whole time.
"Laura, let's get a cbc and start a line of chilled
saline.... we're going to need chest films as soon as we get this
temp down...is this you brother, sir?"
Leaning back to give him room to work, James shook his head.
"Is he any relation? How old is he? Is he allergic to
anything? Has he had all of his immunizations?"
Feeling stupid, James managed to get Blair untangled from
him, the teen quieter now, and lay him on the bed, slipping off
it to stand on the other side.
"I don't know any of that." he muttered. Dr. Ross leaned over
the table and got in his face, his voice bordering on sarcastic
....with a touch of threat.
"Can you tell me his name? His *name*."
"Um...Blair. His name is Blair. I picked him up hitching
last night....let him crash on my couch..."
"You're one of the army brats, right? Do you know how old he
is? Do you know I can order an investigation into statutory
rape?"
Ross was efficiently stripping Blair while the young nurse
stretched out an arm and searched for a vein. James saw him
note the lack of underwear with a grimace and raised eyebrow.
"What?!" James knew he sounded shocked, but he *was*. "He
said he was 17! And I never touched him!" the denial rang false
even to his ears and that bothered James terribly.
"Seventeen my ass. Fifteen at a stretch." the doctor
snarled.
"Does he have any identification?" the nurse from the front
appeared at James' elbow. Still stunned by the accusation, he
handed over the wallet without even glancing at her.
"Turn up that light, Laura." Ross said. The room brightened
painfully and Blair whimpered, trying to turn his head away from
it. The doctor restrained him, his big hands tilting the pretty
face as he checked his eyes.
"Helluva five o'clock shadow." he said, then glanced at the
now-bare chest, noting the growth of hair and the nipple ring.
The glint of metal didn't seem to put him off. "Okay, maybe he is
seventeen."
He listened to the boy's heart and took his temp and ordered
ice packs to be put around his head.
Then he stepped out, pulling the shell-shocked James with
him.
"You are military, am I right?"
"Lt. James Ellison, Fifty-third airborne." James stuttered
out.
"Look, lt Ellison, I don't much care what you do on your own
time. But if you've done anything to that boy in there, I'm gonna
fry your ass."
Shaking his head, knowing that he was protesting too much,
James just mumbled.
"No, no, I never touched him, I swear."
"You in the habit of picking up teenage hitchhikers?"
"He was out in that storm, it was cold...and I thought he
was a girl when I stopped." James said, shame-faced. He was
startled by the reluctant grin that spread over the doctor's
face.
"And you took him home anyhow. That was big of you."
Staring, the ranger didn't know how to respond to that.
"You wouldn't know how to contact any of his family, would
you?"
"He told me his mother is in Australia...when I told him he
should call her."
There had been a change in the atmosphere, but James hadn't
had time to process it yet. The doctor now seemed to like him...
"Then I guess he's your responsibility for now. We'll see if
we can locate her, but he'll probably be long gone before we do.
Are you okay with that?"
"I told him I'd take care of him." James shrugged.
"Good for you." Ross looked away, at the busy ward, and then
back at James, looping his stethoscope around his neck again.
"We're snowed under tonight. It'll be a couple of hours at
least until the blood work comes back. Why don't you grab a cup of
coffee and move your truck --" He grinned widely as James stared
at that, " -- and then you can sit with him."
"Is he going to be okay?" even hearing the quiver in his
voice didn't convince James that it was there.
"I'd say yes. He's got a nasty case of pneumonia, his lungs
are pretty wet, but if we can get his fever down and some IV
antibiotics into him, he should be fine." he eyed James
carefully. "It's a good thing you brought him in -- if he'd gone
much longer it would have been life-threatening."
He turned and left before James had a chance to thank him.
James moved the truck, went down to the cafeteria to get
himself coffee and picked up a magazine. Then he headed back up
to Blair's bed in the emergency ward, hoping he'd given them
enough time to finish doing what they needed to Blair
He heard Blair's moans as he approached the room.
He picked up his pace and began to run when the kid
breathlessly called out his name.
The nurse was cursing softly under her breath as he entered
the room, and Blair moaned again.
"please, James, make it stop..." his voice was small and
scared and James flashed back on Blair's story of the Blessed
Protector, and all his protective instincts kicked into high
gear.
Flinging down the coffee and magazine, he grabbed the nurse's
wrist in a vice-grip.
"What the hell are you doing to him?" he demanded.
The nurse pulled ineffectively at her arm.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to let go of me now."
"I'll let go as soon as you tell me what you were doing to
him."
"I was trying to put in his IV drip, as per the doctor's
instructions." she said in a tone that had quelled bigger men,
but James just narrowed his eyes and held firm. "His veins have all
collapsed from dehydration, making it nearly impossible. I'm
afraid the harder it is to find a vein, the more pain there is
putting the IV in."
James eased his grip on the nurses arm, but didn't quite let
go of it.
"And if you don't give him the IV?"
"Doctor's orders." she stated succinctly, the frost back in
her voice. "I *have* to put it in."
"Besides," she added in an almost whisper. "He really does
need it to help him fight the infection."
James finally released her hand in favor of Blair's.
He held the kid's hand while the nurse poked and prodded and
squeezed until she finally managed to find a vein to slip the IV
into. It made a bulge under the skin on the back of his hand. But
James' presence seemed to help. The moans were quieter.
"Would you like me to go get you another coffee?" The nurse
asked quietly as she exited.
"Thank you." He smiled. She smiled back. He saw the
interest in her eyes.
She flirted a little when she brought him back his coffee,
flashing him her best smile. James was oblivious. He hardly even
spared her a glance, though he did remember a thank you.
All his attention was focussed on the young man in the bed.
He was monitoring his breathing. Was it his imagination, or had
it eased somewhat? She put an oxygen mask over his face, telling
James that it would help. Blair mumbled but didn't fight it. His
hand squeezed James' tightly, surprising him with its strength.
There was more to the kid than was available on the surface
Sitting back in his chair, James relaxed fractionally; yes,
he definitely heard a difference in the breathing.
Which was probably the only reason why didn't panic when it
was over an hour before they came to take Blair down to x-ray his
chest. He got up to follow them, but the orderly put a hand on
his chest to stop him and he tolerated it, allowing the slender
strength of that hand to slip away from his own.
"Hey man, we've got it covered."
Waiting for them to bring him back, James paced restlessly,
liked a caged panther, caught in his thoughts now that all of his
attention wasn't focused on the kid.
{I should just go home.} he thought to himself. {Christ, I
got the kid to the hospital, they would make sure he got the care
he needed, that should fulfil my promise.}
After all, he hadn't even known the kid before yesterday.
Why should he have to take responsibility for him?
And with that one word came the answer.
Responsibility. How had the kid known what buttons to push?
His little Blessed Protector story appealed to all of James'
protective instincts.
Responsibility.
It was the one trait that his father had drilled into him
that he could appreciate even now.
Responsibility.
Like it or not, he was responsible for the kid, had been the
moment he'd stopped the truck to pick him up.
Res-pon-si-bil-i-ty.
For some reason he wasn't ready to examine yet, he liked
feeling that way about Blair.
He looked up as they wheeled Blair back up the corridor to
his cubicle at the back of the emergency ward.
{How did I know that was him? How could I have possibly
recognized his breathing and heartbeat from across the hospital?}
Happy to have something to distract him from his more
introspective thoughts, he focussed on his hearing and, sure
enough, he could hear Blair's heart beating as though he had his
ear pressed to his chest.
This scared him more than everything else had and his mind
skittered away from the implications of it.
Hovering as they moved Blair back into his room, James finally
settled down beside him, taking his hand as soon as they were
alone again. It felt good to sit there and hold his hand and
murmur comforting words to him.
{It makes me think of Steven.} he thought sadly. For once
thoughts of his lost little brother didn't bring a surge of guilt
and anger. {I would have done this for him if I'd been allowed
to.}
{That's it.} he told himself as he stroked tangled hair back
from a sweaty face for the hundredth time. {Tell yourself that.
He's your little brother, your best friend's son...anything but a
strangely beautiful young man.}
After that thought, James decided to stop thinking for a
while.
The sounds of the hospital had changed as the morning dawned
and the sun began its slow waltz across the sky. James thought
about that briefly as he sat on the stool, holding Blair's hand.
The boy had become very restless several times and he'd
found that holding his hand and talking quietly to him calmed him
enough for him to sleep.
{How can the sun move slowly when we use it to measure time?
Time doesn't actually crawl, although it sure feels like it
sometimes.} the meandering thought made him snort with disgust
and turn his attention back to the boy.
He'd left only once, to use the bathroom and call the base.
His captain hadn't sounded happy when James had simply said he
needed a couple of days of leave, but the day after a big
exercise most people were sent home anyway, and he had the days
coming.
Now he sat, and listened to Blair's heart and tried not to
think about listening to it. He got so lost in that sound that he
didn't notice when the practical-yet-compassionate presence of
Dr. Ross suddenly filled the little cubicle.
"Did you go home last night?" James found himself asking
stupidly as the doc checked Blair's heart.
"Thirty-eight hours and counting." Ross said, looping his
stethoscope around his neck in what James was beginning to
recognize as a signature motion.
James stood and invaded the doctor's personal space without
realizing what he was doing.
"He'll be fine as long as you don't suck up all his air."
Ross nudged him back with a shoulder.
Stepping back without an apology, James watched closely
while Ross pulled the oxygen mask off the kid's face.
"He doesn't need it anymore," the doctor said before he
could ask.
"He feels much cooler."
"His temp is down to 101. Not normal, but manageable."
The ice packs had been removed by the a nurse during the
night.
James was just standing there now, unsure what to so next.
"So, um, I guess you're gonna be admitting him now?"
Looking up from his the sleeping boy, Ross frowned at him.
"I'm going to give him a quick exam. Why don't you go get
another cup of coffee?"
Instantly suspicious, James grabbed the bed rail with both
hands.
"Why can't I stay?"
Giving him a bland smile, Ross answers evenly.
"I don't think he'd appreciate it."
"You don't believe me." James felt anger wash over him, but
the voice of reason spoke in his head, loudly.
{You never touched him. It's okay. Let him see for himself.
But what if somebody else has? They'll blame it on me. I only
have his word for why he was out there, alone on that road in the
storm.}
"I'll have a nurse to witness." the doctor offered, but
James was unsure if that was meant to comfort him or be a threat.
It was hard, but he'd had years of accepting orders from
stupid people to fall back on. He nodded once and ducked out of
the cubicle, heading for the cafeteria.
He could leave now. If they found something, would they go
to the trouble of hunting him down? The kid was seventeen, after
all. He could hardly be prosecuted for statutory rape.
He shook his head.
He'd made that choice when he took him in. Skipping out on
him now would be cowardly. James Ellison was many things, but he
had never been a coward.
***
After a half hour he returned to the ER.
Checking the main room, he saw Dr. Ross standing behind the
desk, doing paperwork with one hand, the other holding a phone to
his ear.
"Yeah? No match, huh? Well, thanks for checking for me,
Kelly." he paused and then uh-huhed again. A longer pause, during
which he met James' eyes and beckoned him over.
"He's not wanted and he's not a runway...I'm gonna let him
go." a shrug accompanied the words.
James waited patiently.
"Yeah. Thanks again. I know, I know, I owe you." he hung up
and finished scribbling something on the chart before looking up
at James, who was watching calmly, sure now that nothing was
wrong. But sort of wondering if the man was going to say so in so
many words.
"Your friend is apparently who he says he is. He does have a
scholarship to A&M --- smart kid, his SAT score was 1530. Too
smart to be wandering cross-country by himself, really."
With a shrug of his own James indicated that he didn't know
anything about that.
"Now, here's the thing."
The words made James tense back up. He felt an urge to go
check on the kid, an urge he ignored, knowing that he was safe.
Leaning on the counter of the station, Ross crossed his arms
over his chest and studied James.
"We're packed. This flu has got every available bed filled
with somebody who's either puking their guts out or living in the
john."
James just stared back at Ross for a moment, relieved. He'd
thought, just for a second, that Ross had found something
suspicious and he was about to get slammed.
"Well," he said slowly, "I guess I could take him back home
with me."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he
could have them back
"He'll need looking after for a few days, until he's over
the worst of it. There might be a relapse." Ross seemed to be
running with it.
"Um, okay.."
"Good. I'll release him as soon as I finish his write-up
then."
"He'll be pretty out of it for the next twenty-four hours or
so, and then he should start to make sense again."
"Are you sure I can bring him home? I mean he doesn't
still need medical attention or anything"
As he asked the question the doc seemed to lose interest in
him again, bowing his head over the chart.
"He'll be fine. You have basic medical training, right?"
"Well, yeah, actually I trained as a medic." James reluctantly
admitted. Now feeling at a loss as the doctor continued to work
and paid him no attention, James turned and walked to the
curtained-off corner. Inside, on the bed, the kid slept heavily,
the mega-doses of tylenol keeping him under.
Standing over the bed -- it felt strange, he couldn't
remember having ever done this before, *sat vigil* over a sick
person -- he studied him.
The turned-down light was greenish and did nothing to
improve the fever-flush skin. It was dim enough to hide the
growth of beard, and the long curls spread on the pillow made him
look almost angelic.
His breathing was still very wheezy and James doubted the
wisdom of taking him home.
But if the doctor said it was okay....it would definitely be
more comfortable for both of them.
His hand was in the air before he thought of moving it,
pulled to brush that hair away from that face, to touch the skin
and see how hot it felt.
{Just checking his temp.} he told himself, firmly, not
willing to consider any other explanation. {Checking his temp.}
Laura was back now, for a second twelve-hour shift in
thirty-six. She came in with a smile and began removing the IV.
Remembering how much trouble it had been to put in, James
fretted.
"He really doesn't need it anymore? You're sure?"
Her smile was resigned.
"He's been on IV fluids and antibiotics for twenty-four
hours now. We'll give him a mega-dose antibiotic shot before you
leave and the orals should be plenty after that."
James watched while she dressed him in the sweats, thinking
that he should have gone after some clean clothes. He was
distracted by another nurse with a sheaf of papers for him to
sign and a dozen pages of instructions.
Dr. Ross reappeared as James was pouring the still-sleeping
teen into a wheelchair. It would have been easier to just carry
him out the way he'd brought him in, but rules were rules, he
thought sourly as he struggled to keep the limp form upright and
stuff the papers into a back pocket.
"If anything goes wrong, you call me." Ross said
insistently, pressing a card into his hand as he got the papers
stowed.
Glancing down at Blair, James grimaced slightly. He was
listing to the side, like a drunk, and falling forward.
"How long will he be out of it like this?"
Crouching in front of the chair, Ross touched the pretty
face with strangely gentle hands.
James still couldn't believe they were going to let him just
walk out with the kid still unconscious
"I know it looks bad, but, trust me, he'll get better care
at home with you right now than he would here. Half the staff is
out sick," Ross said, standing again. "Just pick him up and carry
him."
For the second time in less than 24 hours, James gathered an
unconscious Blair into his arms.
"Laura, walk out to his truck with him and get the doors."
Ross ordered, giving James one last almost-mocking smile.
There were a few scandalized looks in the waiting room as
James strode out, feeling a strong sense of deja'vu. He'd come in
these exact same doors just this way only twelve or so hours ago.
Buckling the kid in was problematic as he kept sliding down
onto the seat. Laura snickered and James finally just let him lay
there. He'd just drive more carefully than usual.
She handed him the bag of medicines and gave him one last
smile.
"It's a really nice thing you're doing here."
Embarrassed, James shrugged.
"I know Dr. Ross gave you a hard time, but I could tell right
away that it wasn't like that." she continued. James' eyes
widened as she slid a hand into the front of her tunic and pulled
out a folded piece of paper. "Maybe after he's better you'll give
me a call?"
Looking into her pretty, hopeful face, James took the paper.
"I'm with a mobile unit." it was meant as a warning, but her
smile drooped.
"Oh." the one word was enough to let James know that she was
rethinking the situation. "Well, if you get the chance." she said
with false brightness.
Then she turned to leave before he could think of anything
else to say.
Sliding behind the wheel, James carefully moved the curly
head out of the way. He rested it on his leg, it just looked too
uncomfortable lying flat on the seat like that.
The kid was still asleep when James pulled up into his
driveway. He got and rounded the car to once again gather the
young man into his arms.
This was getting to be a habit
He could think of worse habits.
Slamming the door behind him, shoving it roughly with his
foot, impatient at his thoughts, the big man placed the sleeping
teen gently onto the couch.
Blair snuffled and turned over, almost falling off.
James caught him before he rolled right off the couch.
But when he rolled him back, Blair just flopped over again.
With a resigned sigh, he picked Blair up -- yet again --
and carefully carried him up the stairs to place him in the
middle of his own bed.
He was pulling the covers back up when he noticed the
smell.
Blair had been sweating feverishly the whole day yesterday,
and the odor that stained his clothes was part body odor, part
sick-smell
The first thing he needed to do, James decided reluctantly,
was to take off the dirty sweats Blair was wearing.
But James needed to know what the second thing he was
going to do was before he took off Blair's clothes
A bath, he thought. But he wasn't sure if he could bath
him and keep him from drowning at the same time.
Leaving Blair on top of the covers of his bed, James rushed
down to the kitchen to grab a large mixing bowl. He filled it
with warm water and brought it back into his bedroom along with
some soap and a cloth. Placing the bathing tools on the
side table, he turned back to Blair. Bolstered by the presence of
the bathing equipment, as if it somehow lent legitimacy to what
he was about to do, James grasped the sweatshirt and pulled it
over the kid's head.
It felt strange undressing another man, and stranger still
because he was still asleep. As he tugged the waistband of the
pants and began to gently pull them down, he felt somehow that he
was violating the kid. It didn't seem right to be undressing him
and giving him a bath without the other man's permission.
In fact, James realized, everything he had done in the last
24 hours had been without Blair's consent. Hadn't he murmured
something about "no doctors" when he'd first arrived at the
condo? In fact, he'd been pretty clear on that, between gasps for
air. And James had blithely dragged him off to the hospital.
{No.} James reassured himself, on that point at least. {He
wouldn't have survived the night without medical treatment.}
It didn't actually make him feel that much better for all
the manhandling of the kid he'd been indulging in, but it was
true.
When Blair finally came to, he wouldn't even know he'd
*been* to the hospital.
With a snort of impatience James cut off that line of
thought. Naked now -- James was trying to avoid really looking at
that nakedness -- Blair was going to freeze to death if he
didn't get him washed and get some clothes on him. Gently, the
older man pulled Blair up and leaned him against his broad
shoulder.
Blair's head lolled to the side, exposing a long line of
throat that momentarily caught James' focus.
Then James shook himself and briskly dipped his cloth into
the water and began to soap down Blair's upper body.
He worked steadily, carefully.
The lines of the body under his hands weren't distasteful.
And the kid's skin was so soft.
He knew that, if he allowed himself to, he could remember
another body he had wanted to look at. To touch.
Another young body.
A body he'd known only too well that he *shouldn't* want
that way, for many of the same reasons he should not now be aware
of this one.
That knowing had been enough to stop the wanting, when he
was younger than this boy was now.
James pushed the thoughts away impatiently.
Why was he dredging up this old memory? Next he'd get
nostalgic over the day he lost his virginity...possibly the most
embarrassing experience of his life.
Burying it all back under a thick layer of time, James
returned his attention back to the boy in his arms.
He'd all but finished his ministrations, when he realized
that he'd been avoiding washing Blair's groin. Quickly running
the wet cloth over the lax genitals, forgoing the soap for speed
and distance, he knew he shouldn't be this skittish about it and
he was angry with himself for it.
Then he lay Blair back down and turned away from the naked
body in his bed and picked up a towel, to dry him off brusquely
and flip the covers over him.
{It would be easier to just let him sleep in the nude.} he
decided, thinking about trying to wrestle him into clean sweats.
{I can always add another blanket if he's cold.}
He made a mental note to change the sheets the first time
the kid got up as he ran the bowl and cloth back downstairs.
Coming back upstairs, James hovered over the bed. His
eyes drank in the red red lips, fever-dark in contrast to the
pallor of his cheeks.
Wanting to be close to the kid in case he needed him, James
decided that it would be okay to sleep on top of the covers next
to him. After all that IV fluid he'd probably have to get up at
least once and the older man wasn't sure if he was going to be
steady enough to take care of it on his own.
On top of the covers. That would be okay, right?
***
It had been a long, peaceful night. James slept peacefully
on the bed, the kid a relaxed bundle of warmth only a few inches
away.
The ringing of the doorbell brought him awake quickly.
Sliding off the bed, he checked the kid and found his head very
hot. He needed to take his medicine and drink something, as soon
as James got rid of whoever it was.
Padding down in his jeans, shirtless, James rolled his eyes
as he heard the loud voices coming from his front steps.
"Give it a *rest*, Harper. It's none of your fucking
business, is it now?" Eli was defending him again. James sighed,
opening the door. Harper was a great soldier -- he would throw
himself into the most dangerous situation with a remarkable
disregard for his own safety, and he was fast and smart. But
sometimes his rebellious, judgmental attitude was maddening.
James knew Harper had been assigned to his unit because Ellison
was more tolerant than most officers, but there were times he
regretted his easy-going attitude.
"Lieutenant." Eli greeted him. In civvies, he looked spiffy,
his lean, darkly Hispanic form practically designed to attract
women. "We were heading into town, wondered if you'd like to come
along?"
Glancing at the big truck his first lieutenant drove, James
saw that it was stuffed with people.
"What are we celebrating?"
"Do we need a reason?" Another of Eli's good points was his
enthusiasm for life.
Leaning back on the doorframe, James waved lazily at the
truck. A shout erupted;
"ELL-I-SON! ELL-I-SON! ELL-I-SON!"
Shaking his head, James spread his hands in front of him
apologetically. Normally he'd go with them and lead them through
recreation with the same strength he used in battle, but he had
been known to beg off to spend time alone before.
"Not today, guys."
"You still got that little fag here?" Harper's pale blue
eyes were asking another question entirely.
"The kid's sick." James met those eyes steadily. "I told him
I'd take care of him."
With a snort of disgust the man turned on his heel and walk
stalked back to the truck. Unwillingly James listened to his
mutters, knowing that the man was backing off because he'd
learned how far he could push (at last).
"My lieutenant is a fucking fruit! What kind of army is
that? Some stupid pretty-boy kid...."
Eli watched him listen. He wasn't smiling.
"Look, Ellison. Are you sure that kids good news?"
"He's legit. The hospital checked out his story last night."
"The *hospital*?"
"He's really sick, Dondo."
"Then why isn't he still in the hospital?"
"Apparently they're snowed under by the flu bug that's going
around. They said he'd do better if I took care of him."
Thinking for a minute, the other man smiled at last.
"Hey, you have a brother, don't you, Ellison?"
He'd seen the picture James carried, one of him and Steven
and their mother before her death.
"Yeah."
"So, he's kind of substituting, right? Like you're taking of
of what's-his-name."
"Steven." trying not to feel the anger and hurt that rose
with that name, James answered flatly.
"They'll understand that." nodding at the truck, Eli
grinned, relieved. "I'll take care of it."
"Thanks, buddy."
He waved with both hands, a 'go-away' gesture, as the truck
pulled out. His neighbors probably hadn't enjoyed that too much,
but they never complained.
{Of course,} he thought as he went back in and up the stairs
to wake the kid if he could, {they've seen me come home in
fatigues, toting chutes and loaded down with ammo and guns....
they're probably afraid to.}
The thought brought a grin.
The kid was sleeping in the exact same position he'd left
him in. Leaning over him, James shook his shoulder, feeling the
heat of his body through the blankets. When he focussed on his
breathing, he was relieved to hear it easier now, flowing
smoothly in and out of his lungs with only an occasional hitch.
It still sounded wet, but he was getting better.
When it looked like the kid wasn't going to wake up, James
made his way downstairs and got a glass of juice and the
medicine. It wasn't easy getting it down the kid's throat, but
he somehow managed it. He rearranged the covers over Blair,
found himself a sheet and once again got into the bed, on top of
the covers.
Blair slowly became aware of his surroundings, warm and
comfy, and it wasn't as hard to breathe as he seemed to remember
it being.
The next thing he realized was that he was naked.
He shot up, spilling the covers down.
*NAKED*?
How the hell had he gotten naked and where the hell was he?
{Calm down,} he told himself, {just calm down. What's the
last thing you remember?}
The last thing he remembered was falling asleep on James'
couch...and now he was fucking naked in a bed -- he turned as he
felt the bed move -- in *James'* fucking bed!
With *JAMES*!
And it was dark outside, so it was night.
He remembered it was morning, early morning, the last time
he looked, so he'd lost at least a day, maybe more.
Stumbling out of the bed, he cried out softly as he fell,
his legs refusing to co-operate. The figure on the bed rose and
looked over at him.
"Hey," said James. "Are you okay kid?"
Blair back away, fumbling for the covers as James got up and
walked around the bed.
"What the hell did you do to me?" Blair demanded, pulling the
covers around his naked form.
"I know you think it was wrong of me," said James, "But I
had to do it. It was for your own good."
"What?" Blair was livid. Although not sure exactly what had
taken place here, considering his naked, aching body, he had a
pretty good idea that he'd been taken advantage of.
"I'm sorry, but when I came home, it was late and you were
passed out on the couch..." James' voice faded away as he noticed
the horror on Blair's face.
"You *fucking* bastard."
"Look -- I thought you were going to die, hell the doctor
said you were going to die!"
"The doctor?" Blair suddenly felt like he was in a funhouse
and all the mirrors were telling him something different "What
doctor?"
"The doctor who treated you at the hospital?"
"You took me to a hospital?"
Blair sank to the floor, wishing he could just go back to
sleep and not have to deal with this increasingly confusing
situation.
"Isn't that why you're upset?" asked James, now confused as
well. "I know you told me you didn't want to see a doctor, but
you were out of it, you sounded like a freight train every time
you took a breath...what was I supposed to do?"
Blair nodded as he slowly began to figure out what was going
on. But he still had a couple more questions for his so-called
benefactor
"Why aren't I still at the hospital?"
"They were full because of the epidemic -the flu epidemic"
James clarified at Blair's questioning look. "So Ross suggested I
bring you back here."
"Ross?"
"The doctor. A pediatrician. They wouldn't believe you were
seventeen. Not at first."
"Right. Why can't I remember being at the hospital?"
"You've been out of it ever since I got back from the
training exercise."
"Ever since...exactly how long have I been sick?"
"Two days."
"Two days..." Blair repeated. {I've lost two days.}
He was suddenly overcome with another coughing fit but it
was easier than it had been, and he could feel the phlegm
loosening up in his chest.
Watching warily as James went to the bedside table and
picked up a bottle, he decided that he felt better.
"Your medicine" he told Blair, handing him the bottle.
"It's about time for another dose."
Blair looked at the bottle for a while, trying to make his
tired eyes focus on the label. But even when he managed to read
it, he was none the wiser.
Naomi's dislike of doctors and conventional medicine aside
Blair had never trusted anything in his body that he couldn't
easily pronounce. But he was starting to feel better, so
obviously whatever they'd given him wasn't killing him.
James slipped an arm around his shoulders and helped him get
up. The younger man flashed him a tight smile as he gained his
feet unsteadily.
"I gotta go, man," he said as he headed for the bathroom.
James was just coming back up the stairs, glass of O.J. in
his hand when Blair came out of the bathroom.
"Thanks, man," the kid said gratefully, gulping the whole
thing down without taking a breath.
"You want another?" James asked, amusement tingeing his
voice.
Blair just nodded and headed back to sit on the edge of the
bed. He could feel his legs trembling slightly just from the
effort of waking to the bathroom and back
Now that he was up, he didn't want to sleep in James' bed,
but he didn't think he could make the trip downstairs and he was
*not* going to ask the man to carry him.
He watched James come back into the room, orange juice in
hand.
"Thanks, man," he said again, awkwardly. "I, uh," he waved
his hand in the general direction of the bed.
James seemed to understand what he meant, for the big man
quickly gathered up a pillow and his sheet.
"I'll go sleep on the couch, you're sick, you need the bed.
I only stayed up here with you because I was scared, well, I was
worried because you'd been out so long. There are clean sweats in
the drawer, help yourself."
Blair just nodded and lay back down gratefully. He wished he
could be big about it and tell James not to be stupid, of course
they could share the bed, but he was still a little freaked out
from waking up nude and defenceless beside this man he barely
knew.
He knew hitching was not the safest way to travel, but it
was the best way to see the country and meet the people and he'd
always prided himself in being able to look out for himself.
But loosing two days like that, coupled with feeling sick,
and this strange feeling he kept getting in the pit of his
stomach whenever he looked at James, made him more anxious than he
was willing to think about.
Deciding that he didn't want to sleep nude again, he made
himself get up and grab the first pair of sweatpants in the
drawer, plain gray ones. Getting them on was an effort, and
afterwards all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. So he pulled
the covers tight and curled up around himself.
The next few days passed quickly; running together in a
pattern of sleep, James checking up on him, giving him his
medicine, juice and more sleep.
Through the lingering exhaustion, Blair managed to make
sense of a few minutes here and there.
One incident stuck in his head and found its way into drowsy
dreams before sleep.
It had been night again, he knew that. James had come up and
sat beside him on the bed, gently drawing the covers back up from
where he'd pushed them down during a bout of fever-sweat.
Feeling the gentleness of the hands, Blair had turned and
sighed "mom".
The short bass laugh had woken him.
"James?" he knew he sounded frightened, but he really wasn't
and wondered why he would sound like he was.
"It's okay, kid. You looked cold." A large hand rested on
his forehead and he closed his eyes again, not knowing why. "I
think your fever is up a little. How do you feel?"
Giving a little shrug, Blair opened his eyes again and saw
that the big man was ...staring at him?
And that hand was still on his head, cool...he could feel
the calluses on it.
"Better." he said honestly. "Not great, but better."
"I think you should take some more tylenol, and go back to
sleep."
"I'd like a bath." as the words left his mouth he realized
they were true and wondered harder. He'd never felt
self-conscious like this before. "That's all I've been doing for
days, is sleep." he grumbled James opened the bottle of tablets
and handed them to him with the ever-present glass of juice,
ignoring the bath comment.
Taking them, Blair found himself watching those hands and
had to blink to pull his eyes away.
The strange feeling in his stomach was back. A heaviness,
low and warm.
He'd never felt anything like it before.
Laying back as his benefactor left, he closed those eyes and
tried not to think about all the strange things that were going
on in his head...and body.
Three days after he first woke up in James' bed, found Blair
well enough to make the trip downstairs. James put his arm around
him for support as they went slowly down the stairs. Blair felt
breathless and he was sure it wasn't just from the effort of
walking.
"I've been walking all my life, you'd think a few days in
bed wouldn't have put me this far off my game." he laughed,
trying to make a joke of it.
And he laughed again, nervously, when James' arm stayed where
it was as he helped him over to the couch.
"Thanks, man, I can take it from here," he said as the older
man went to tuck an afghan around him.
"Sure, why don't I just get you some toast and juice." James
responded and Blair watched as he went into the kitchen.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply in and out, picturing
the view out the window of his mother's cabin at the retreat in
Big Sur.
"I am relaxed." repeated in his mind
His eyes flew open, belying what his mind was trying to
convince him of, as he felt the sofa dip. Looking over at James
and smiling tremulously, he took the toast and juice from the
older man.
They sat in silence, James watching him eat.
The sound of the doorbell made him jump, spilling his juice,
but grateful for the interruption as the growing tension was
broken.
Blair heard the murmur of voices and watched as James came
back into the living room with a friend, he thought he remembered
James calling him Eli.
The slender Hispanic man was just a little taller than
Blair, but not as thin. He saw the teenager wrapped in the
blanket on the couch and did a brief double-take.
"You look like shit."
Blair smiled ruefully.
"Thanks, man, I needed that."
"He's been pretty sick, Dondo." said James. "So how're
things back on base?"
Aredondo sat on the arm of the couch, ignoring James' glare.
He gave Blair a friendly smile.
"Ellison says you weren't feeding us shit, you really are
seventeen."
The smile became a grin.
"I get a lot of that."
"If I'd seen you with that mess on your face then I would
have believed you."
Blair moved his hand, scratching at the thick growth that
covered the lower half of his face. He knew that if he didn't
shave soon it would meet up with his sideburns.
He made a face.
"Does it make me look distinguished?"
That made both paratroopers laugh.
"If you can't shave it today I'll do it for you." James
offered, missing the widening of Eli's eyes at that statement.
Standing, the first lieutenant beckoned to James, walking
into the sparkling kitchen.
Blair's eyes narrowed as he watched them go. It seemed his
status as observer in life was secure.
Aredondo leaned on the counter, hands on his waist, his back
to the boy on the couch. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Harper has been saying some things, Lieutenant." his use of
Ellison's rank was meant to put the conversation into a more
official and less friendly arena "Having the kid here and not
coming back in is making you look bad."
James folded his arms across his chest.
"What are you talking about, Eli?" his voice was dangerously
soft.
"You know I would never believe that of you, James."
Dondo gestured once, sharply.
"But the brass doesn't want to hear it. Maybe you should
find someplace else for him now that he's better. Send him on his
way."
On the couch, Blair turned slightly, watching them out of
the corner of his eye. James did not look happy with the
conversation.
He hoped it wasn't about him...but, his ego aside, there was
a definite possibility that it was.
"What the heck does that mean, *Lieutenant*?" James snarled
softly, suddenly aware that the kid was watching then. For some
reason that added to his resolve. "Just because he's got long
hair and earrings he has to be gay? And if I take pity on him and
bail his ass out I am too?"
His friend shook his head and leaned a bit further back. Not
defensive, he was too laid-back for that.
"I'm just telling you what's being said. And there's a rumor
about a drop this week...maybe as soon as tomorrow. What's he
going to do then?"
"A jump? Where?" instantly interested, James' anger fell
away.
From the couch Blair saw him relax and sighed, refusing to
wonder at his seemingly instinctive reaction to James' body
language.
Eli told James what little he knew and then left, giving
Blair a few more cheerful, friendly words.
James walked slowly back to the couch.
"Everything okay?" asked Blair.
"What? Oh, yeah, sure, everything's fine. One hundred
percent."
Not quite believing, but understanding that he didn't know
the guy well enough to doubt his words -- or ask for more --
Blair leaned back into the arm of the couch, stretching his legs
out a little. He was till tired, and his chest still hurt. The
bruise on the back of his hand from The IV probes had faded, but
it still ached, a niggling little reminder of the time he had
lost.
"You go back to sleep." James said quietly. "I'll wake you
for dinner."
"I get food?" the note of sleepy amusement made the bigger
man smile.
"At last...but you needed to lose a few pounds anyhow,
y'know."
A sleepy snort spread the smile into a grin as James watched
the younger man slide back into sleep.
A couple of days later found Blair well on the road to
recovery. He was spending more time downstairs now, quite a bit
of it even while awake. Today he had suggested that he could
maybe make lunch, he was getting tired of being waited upon hand
and foot and was starting to feel a little guilty for not only
mooching off James, but not even contributing in the most basic
of ways.
He was making soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, like they
had had that first night. James was hovering over him and when
Blair turned suddenly to the cupboard on his left, he nearly fell
headfirst, tripping over the big man's feet.
Catching him adroitly, James set him back on his feet, his
hands lingering just a moment on the slender waist.
Blair's admonishment caught in his throat as butterflies
began to dance in his stomach, *again*. Suddenly, he was very
aware of every inch of James as the older man stood next to him,
that awareness drowning out the words the man said for several
seconds.
"Are you okay?" James repeated.
"Huh? Uh, yeah. Fine man, fine."
Turning to the sink, he slowly washed his hands in cold
water, trying not to think about the man behind him.
James went over to the stove to stir the soup and flip the
sandwiches and the space allowed Blair's head to clear.
"I wouldn't even have tripped if you'd given me some space."
he complained more harshly than he'd intended.
"sorry." replied James softly, "I'm just worried you're
trying to do too much too soon."
"I'm fine, really, almost back to normal." Blair assured
him.
The sudden wave of dizziness seemed to be his body's way of
making him look foolish.
James caught him again as he started to totter towards a
chair. This time Blair leaned gratefully into the arm around his
waist. He sank into the chair and put his head between his knees
"Maybe I am pushing it too hard." he conceded. "I just don't
want to outstay my welcome, y'know, man. I mean you've been
great, putting up with a virtual stranger coming in and taking
over your life like this."
He watched as the big shoulders moved beneath the dark blue
t-shirt in a graceful shrug. The expression on James' face said
more clearly than words that he didn't know how to reply to that.
"Look, you just concentrate on getting well, okay? I'm not
going to kick you out anytime soon."
Blair looked up at him, not exactly sure what James was
offering, and, in a scary change-of-pace, not entirely sure what
he *wanted* him to be offering
"Come on, let's eat." the casual words brought the
conversation to an abrupt end and Blair was content to let the
matter drop.
It was several more days before Blair started to think about
continuing to make his way down to Norman.
He broached the subject with James over a spaghetti dinner
he'd cooked.
"I guess I'll be heading out in a couple of days. Get
myself over to Norman to see Bart."
"So soon?" asked James. {Where the hell did that come from?}
he wondered. "So who's Bart?" he asked, to distract from his
first question.
"Bart Connors, man. He runs a gymnast training facility
there now."
James gave him a blank look.
"Olympic gold medal gymnast Bart Connors?" Blair says it
slowly.
"Gymnast? James repeated.
Shrugging, Blair explains as he stirs the remains of his
food with his fork. James wondered briefly if he ever ate full
meal and if that was why he was so thin.
"I was there for a while when I was little. He was in
training then. We kind of got to be friends."
"Okaaay." James drew the word out slowly. What he knew
about gymnastics he could fit into the care one of those medals
was stored in.
"He and my mom had something going." Now looking at his
plate, as if he were trying to choose which red-sauced noodle to
eat next. Another subdued shrug. "We left after about eighteen
months, but it was a fun ride while it lasted."
James just stared at him.
Sighing, Blair gave the impression of somebody who wants to
say more, but doesn't know it if it would be welcome.
"I trained there for a while." Blair continued when it
became apparent that James wasn't going to say anything. "They
said I could be good. I'm sort of built for it." he gestures at
himself with a small grin.
James' eyes narrowed at that, taking a good look as if it
had been an invitation.
Blair was wearing his own clothes again. James took in the
lightly muscled thighs, small waist, and surprisingly broad
shoulders. He didn't know about gymnastics, but he did know about
rangers, and fighters. And Blair's body type was the similar to
many of the men he worked with everyday.
Just thinner...and, well, shorter.
You didn't have to be big and muscle bound to get the job
done.
Realizing he was spending an inordinate amount of time
looking at the kid, James changed tracks.
"How are you planning on getting to Norman?" he used apiece
of French bread to scoop extra sauce off his plate.
"The same way I got here, man." Blair gives him a *duh*
look.
"Hitching?" James asked, a note of disbelief squeaking his
voice. "I don't think so."
"Excuse me?" Replied Blair. His eyes had widened slightly
and James could see the deep blue color was rich. "I don't
remember giving you the keys." he stood and cleared his place at
the table, then headed for the couch again, feeling short of
breath.
"What keys?" asked James, suddenly feeling like they'd
entered the twilight zone. "What are you talking about?" he stood
and followed, sitting in the matching armchair.
"You're not in charge here, Lieutenant Ellison." The kid
said it in a softly teasing voice that told the older man that he
wasn't taking this seriously.
"I thought you said I saved your life, that I was your
Blessed, Blessed..." James stopped, not able to remember what
Blair had called him.
"Protector." supplied Blair helpfully, a grin flashing
across his mobile face.
"Protector." James nodded. "And as your Blessed Protector,
I don't think you should risk being out in the weather again so
soon after being sick, especially considering the season."
Blair spread his arms wide and shrugged.
"It's not like I've got a lot of choices here."
"I'll drive you." James' voice was no-nonsense. Even as he
was wondering why he was looking after this kid so hard.
"You don't have to do that, man, I'll be alright, really."
"Look, I won't be able to rest easy until I know you've
arrived safely, and if you hitch that could be days."
"Well, if you put it that way...Thanks, man." Blair
accepted the offer gratefully. He had figured, based on his
experience in OK before James had stopped to pick him up that he
was going to have to walk all the way to Norman. He hadn't got a
single ride from the minute he crossed the Texas border. And he
had to admit, he wasn't sure he was up to walking nearly 200
miles.
"Fine" said James, taking a swallow of the beer in his hand.
"That's settled. How long are you planning on staying and
what're your plans after?" He realized he was being nosy, but he
couldn't stop himself.
"I sent him a letter saying I'd drop by sometime this
summer, but I don't have anything planned after that. Thought I
might get down to see the Alamo."
"Well, look," James said, sitting back in his chair. "Why
don't you give me a call when you're done there, and I'll come
get you, bring you back. You can spend the rest of the summer
here, if you want."
James closed his mouth in horror.
{What the hell was that?}
And why the hell had he done it?
Feeling his heart do an odd little thump and roll, Blair
just looked at James from beneath his lashes.
The butterflies were back. And he felt overly warm.
{Why did those words make me so nervous?} he didn't have an
answer for that, and he wasn't ready to look for one, either.
Nervous now -- completely unable to understand why words he
hadn't even thought were coming out of his mouth -- James stood
and looked around like he thought he'd see something important.
"I think I'd better run by the base for a while, kid. You
going to be okay here?" His eyes brushed over Blair but he didn't
really look at him. "I should spend some time at the gym, and on
the firing range."
Feeling just as nervous as Ellison is looking, Blair just
nods and curls up into his blankets.
"I'll be fine, man, I actually think I'm gonna take a nap."
Nothing more was said as the older man gathered his things
and headed out, leaving Blair the number for the base dispatcher,
saying that they could find him if the kid needed him.
***
The next couple of days weren't as easy as the first. James
had to return to work, and Blair was left to his own devices. He
had a couple of good books in his pack, but they had gotten wet
and were currently being dried flat under James' encyclopedias.
There wasn't much else to do, and he was still too tired and
sometimes too achy to do much.
So he watched tv, and he napped, and he was bored.
His ebullient nature was trying to reassert itself, but his
body wasn't up to it. Unfortunately, his mind was...so he did a
lot of thinking.
With the evening news droning, he lay like a lump,
exhausted. The effort of climbing the stairs and standing to
shower had been bad enough, but then he'd shaved. A now-rare
coughing fit, probably triggered by the steam in the bathroom,
had made him slip and give himself a worse-than-usual nick. and
he'd forgotten to take clean clothes up with him.
Not wanting to come down nude, he'd worn a towel...and then,
after dressing, he'd carried it back up to hang it up. Ellison
liked the place clean and *way* too neat, but it was his place
and Blair was going to respect his wishes.
His legs had been shaking so badly by the time he finished
with the towel and tidying the bathroom that he'd actually
considered just lying on the man's bed, for a minute.
For some unknown reason, the thought had made him blush,
even though there had been nobody around to see it.
He had pushed himself back down the stairs to his nest on
the couch.
Now, after his breathing had eased and his legs weren't
shaking, he allowed himself to think about it some more.
{It's just a bed.} that didn't make him feel anything, so he
went further.
{It's just his bed.}
He had to say the name aloud to really test it.
"James."
"James' bed."
The wave of heat that rolled through him was *stunning*.
{What is this? What's going on with you, Blair?}
Closing his eyes, he tried to remember if he'd ever felt
anything like this....
Sixteen, not the shortest kid in the school anymore, but the
youngest in all of his classes...especially the college ones.
Working his butt off to keep up, then surpass those other
kids...the ones that laughed and flirted and basically ignored
him.
He remembered watching them pair off in their groups and
couples, watching the way the patterns shifted, the
configurations changing but not the basic drive.
He didn't understand.
When the guys sat around the locker room after a track
practice he would sit by his locker, being inconspicuous,
listening disbelieving as they talked about girls and what they
wanted to do to them.
He'd been interested, sure, but in an entirely academic way.
Wondering why they obsessed so much over something that sounded
at best messy and at worst downright dangerous; physically,
emotionally, and socially.
When puberty had finally hit, there had been those nights
his mom had told him about. The ones where he woke gasping, with
a mess on his sheets. But there were never any specific images in
his mind that he could remember.
And at school....at school.
Even the occasional erection, he ignored. He was too busy to
pay them enough attention to make them hang around.
Now he sat up again on the couch, shaking his head.
So today he thought about this man's bed and suddenly it was
interested.
Just thinking about thinking about it was getting a rise out
of him.
And he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do about
it. Or with it.
Well, he knew what to do *with* it, just not what to *do*
with it. He'd never really been enthused with jerking off. Sure,
he'd done it a few times, and it had been okay, but writing a
perfect science paper was way more rewarding. The other guys had
sometimes played stupid games, circle jerks and races, but he had
never been invited to join, which was just as well. Just the idea
made him feel awkward and anxious.
Kind of like this whole train of thought.
Changing channels rapidly, he found a PBS documentary and
soon the uncomfortable thoughts faded and the erection that had
been swelling between his legs died away.
But he wondered....when he fell asleep, would he dream about
that bed?
Blair swung his pack into the back seat and climbed into the
front of James' bronco.
Norman had lost some it's appeal. Not that he didn't want
to see Bart, he'd been one of Naomi's better choices, young and
driven, he'd made time for Naomi's small son. But as strange as
these new feelings that were flooding him were, he kind of liked
them.
{Maybe this is what it feels like.} he thought as they
started off.
He didn't clarify what 'this' was.
(And maybe he'd take James up on his offer to spend the rest
of the summer with him.}
Just to see what happened next.
He'd always known that curiosity was his biggest failing.
For his part, James drove silently beside him.
Blair cast furtive glances towards him, wondering what he
was thinking.
They hadn't spent much time together since James had invited
him to return to Fort Sill and Blair had to wonder what was going
on in the older man's mind.
"So you were going to be a gymnast?" James asked at last,
needing to do something to break the silence that was growing.
The look the kid threw him was unreadable.
"Yeah." the response was uncertain.
"And they said you could be good?"
James pressed slightly, kind of wondering. How would the kid
have turned out with that kind of discipline?
{Of course,} he thought while he waited for an answer, {I'm
not being fair, That scholarship proves he has discipline.} It
was just hard to reconcile that with the hair and earrings and
general attitude.
The kid shifted, drew himself up a little.
His words were almost defensive, as if he expected to be
disbelieved "Yeah. I skipped two levels, started at five instead
of seven. The coach sid I might be the youngest juniors champion
by fourteen." he paused and gave James another indecipherable
glance. "I was pretty strong for a little kid."
"You're built for strength." James said, that sense of shock
rising in him again. How did these words get out of his mouth?
"Just a shorter version."
An eyebrow raised and the kid stared at him.
"So why did you quit?"
"I was practising six and eight hours a day, plus tutoring.
Mom finally got fed up. Said she wanted me to have a childhood."
Now a smile crossed his face and Naomi went back up a notch
in his estimation.
This was unbelievable. He'd known the kid less than a week
and suddenly....suddenly...
{Suddenly, *nothing*.} he cut the thought short. {He's a
seventeen-year-old *kid* and if I even think another thought in
that *general* direction, I'm going to turn myself in!}
The kid seemed to pick up on his anger and misinterpret it.
He turned to look out the window, those restless hands gesturing
and moving to some internal dialogue.
With a sigh James reached and turned on the radio, to a
classic rock station wanting to hear the stuff he'd listened to
when he was a kid and his life had sucked.
It had to be a coincidence that the first song that came on
was 'Love Hurt' be Judas Priest.
A glance proved that the kid was singing silently along with
it, and the hands were dancing.
In the back of his mind he allowed himself one teeny, tiny
little thought that didn't *really* break the rules he'd just
carved into that stone tablet of his mind.
He didn't mind driving all these hours, if he could watch
those hands dance while he did it.
But it wasn't too be. After the first hour the kid dozed off
again and James was left alone with his thoughts, and the Doors
crooning out 'Riders on the Storm'.
*If you give this man a ride, sweet memory will die...*
A shiver ran through him and he glanced involuntarily at the
sleeping teen.
An omen?
*Nah*. Just an overactive imagination.
When they got into Norman James was surprised, he hadn't
been there before and it seemed an unlikely location for a
world-class facility. Pulling into a gas station to ask for
directions, he grinned when the kid snorted softly and sat up,
his eyes clearing instantly.
"Are we there yet?"
Unable to stop himself, James laughed loudly, holding his
door open so he can look at him.
"Almost, kid. Just let me grab some coffee and directions.."
He was only halfway across the parking lot when the kid
bounces to his side.
"You don't need directions, man. I know how to get there."
Opening the glass door, mind registering the flyers on it,
James holds it for a second. The kid ducks through without a
thought and James follows, still talking.
"I know you're smart, but it's been ten years." he teases.
{When did I get this comfortable with him?}
"Trust me." those eyes, so blue, so alive, looking straight
at him...
"Whatever you say."
They both got coffee, James smirking at the kid's response
when the older man asked if he wanted a soda.
"You ever clean your battery cables with that stuff, man?
Eat your stomach, it will."
Sipping the so-called coffee on the way back to the truck,
James grimaced.
"I think this might too." it was thick and tasted horribly
bitter.
"Huh?" taking a gulp of his own, the those eyes flickered to
him and then away quickly. "Mine's fine, man."
It was amazing to James, that the kid could get so excited
without barely moving.
Sitting with his head half out the window, he watched the
streets carefully.
Yelling "Hey! Next left!" and then "that right down there,
where that red corvette is pulling out!"
After several more turns, each one convincing James that
they were getting hopelessly lost, there was suddenly a sign on
the next block.
He read it without even realizing that he was too far away
to read it.
"International Facility"
"There it is!" the kid practically crowed.
The small parking lot was mostly empty.
Blair bounded from the truck and was in the front door
almost before James got his door open. Shaking his head at the
energy he was expending, the older man followed at a normal
place, looking the facility over.
It was pretty average-looking, not really landscaped or
fancy. Just a big gym, some other buildings that might have been
dorms...hard to tell really, what was a part of it and what
wasn't.
"Um..." a nervous voice, a curly head poked around the big
metal door. "You coming in?"
"Yeah, I'm not bailing on you, kid." strangely touched by
that nervous question, James joined him in the reception area,
which held a desk but no people.
"There're in the back." the kid spoke with more confidence
now and James wondered if that was due to his presence. It seemed
odd that Blair would feel better with him there, James had
already categorized him as someone who was happy alone and well
able to take care of himself, tornado-spawning thunderstorms
aside.
There was a touch on his arm, he glanced down and realized
that Blair had unthinkingly tugged on it, and then he followed
him down a long hall, marveling at the way the kid followed the
branching ones until they reached another large door, from behind
which came physical sounds, grunts and thumps and bodies slapping
mats.
Opening the door nervously, Blair peeked in.
James got up close behind him and looked over his head.
The huge room was filled with equipment, but strangely
empty. The only people present were a man and a teenage boy, off
in one corner.
They watched as the boy was lifted again to the high bar. He
wrapped his hands firmly around it and began swinging, building
up momentum.
After getting around several times smoothly, he did a simple
release move, caught it, and then went for the giant swing...and
lost it, coming off the bar as high velocity. The man was right
behind him, arranging himself to break the fall as gently as he
could.
Then he set the kid on his feet, and lifted him to the bar
again.
Blair began walking over, stepping quietly between the mats.
After hesitating for a second, James followed.
The man looked up.
He was in his late twenties, very heavily muscled, with
short sandy hair and soft brown eyes.
He stared, and then waved at the boy, who went and slid down
into a full split and started stretching.
"Hey. Visits need to be arranged ahead of time..." he
trailed off as he got closer and Blair broke into a face-cracking
smile.
"You look totally different." the man said, his smile just
as welcoming. "But I would know that mop anywhere!"
One slender hand brushed self-consciously at the hanging
curls, and then they were face-to-face.
After a few seconds of awkward mental shake-or-hug debating,
they found a compromise, a one-armed hug with a gripping
handshake.
When they pulled apart the older man, presumably Bart,
glanced at James and then exaggeratedly shook his hand out.
"Well, you're still a damn strong little snot."
A shrug, and then, to James' shock, Blair began stripping
off his clothes.
"You look good." the Olympian said when Blair stopped at a
t-shirt and bicycle shorts. "Here for a try-out?
Blair rolled his eyes and leaned over, right in front of
James, grabbing his ankles and pressing his head between his
knees.
The older man couldn't help staring. His eyes locked onto
the ass in front of him.
The kid was less than a foot away from him.
The thin lycra material of the shorts left *nothing* to the
imagination.
His mouth suddenly dry, James looked away, at the other boy
who was now standing, and missed it when Blair turned,
straightened and dropped into a straddle-split, sliding all the
way down.
{He's sitting on his *balls*} James thought, somewhat
wildly. {That's *gotta* hurt.}
But the kid didn't look pained at all. He turned to a
side-split, then brought his legs together and arched himself
back and over, slowly, to land back on his feet.
"Not bad, not bad...for an academic." Connors was teasing
and Blair was grinning widely.
"I think we could make something of you."
A snort of loud laughter, and now the two drew together in a
real hug, James was startled to realize that Connors was actually
an inch or so shorter than Blair.
"This is a, um, friend of mine." Blair said when they broke
apart this time. "James Ellison, Bart Connors. One of the best
dads I ever had."
"And he had far too many." Connors added, offering a hand.
He turned his head and shouted at the boy still watching.
"Michael....take fifteen in the hot tub, okay?"
"Where is everybody?" Blair watched the boy trot away.
"Regionals for the level ones, Blair. Everybody went to
watch."
The chagrined expression on Blair's face proved that he'd
forgotten that.
"So why are you here?"
"Michael's an elite, right?" Blair asked. Bart was leading
them to a bench at the side.
"Yeah. Junior nationals contender. He's good."
"So you're concentrating on him." James understood.
"But you would have been better." there was a wistful
quality in the man's voice that became more pronounced with his
next question. "How's your mother?"
"She's good, man. Said to tell you hello."
"And to remind me that there' more to life than practice,
I'm sure."
"Well, yeah, that to."
Seeing a display of framed clippings and pictures on the far
wall, James wandered over, both to give them privacy and take a
look.
He wasn't surprised to find several pictures of a
curly-headed little guy that could only have been Blair. In
competitions, working on that high bar he looked so tiny, getting
ribbons and medals, a list of scores with his at the top....
"He really had potential." the voice at his shoulder made
him jump. He turned to see Bart, smiling in a friendly way.
"He looks scared." James observed, seeing the wide eyes
under that mop of curls.
"He was. He didn't like competing, getting up in front of
people. That was one of the reasons his mother took him away."
"What were the others?" knowing it wasn't any of his
business but still inclined to ask.
A shrug, a slight fading of the smile.
"She was never one to stay in one place too long. And there
was no way she was going to leave him here without her." he seems
to read James' censure in his eyes.
"She may have had different ideas about child-raising, but
no kid was ever loved as much as he was." he sighed, the
wistfulness back again. "Is."
"You loved her."
"But I loved this - " and expansive gesture around the gym,
" - more."
Blair came up behind him, his pack slung securely over his
shoulder.
"Mom told me I could be anything I wanted." he said, with a
shy smile toward his new friend. "Bart was the one who helped me
decide what that was."
"And you've done me proud." they exchanged a grin rich with
shared memories, a grin that James feel distinctly out of place.
"I guess I'd better be heading back." James said abruptly,
feeling closed-in and locked-out, all at the same time. "It's a
good drive and I have to jump tomorrow."
He noticed when Bart didn't ask for any other information.
James decided it was because of him this time.
"I'll walk you out." Blair said, sounding anxious again
"No, that's okay, I got it." he paused, trying to arrange
the words the way he wanted them. "Hey. You call me if you want
to come back, okay? I meant what I said."
"Yeah, man." Blair watched him turn, listening as he left.
"I'll think about it."
Driving through town again, James was struck with an
impulse. He stopped at one of those big music warehouse places,
and bought that Doors tape.
*If you give this man a ride, sweet memory will die....*
He couldn't get over the feeling that that *meant*
something.
James arrived home in the early to evening to an empty condo.
He let himself in and shivered. It seemed awfully cold all of a
sudden.
He made himself some soup, frowning slightly at the bland
taste. The kid had really spiced it up nicely.
{Spiced a lot of things up nicely} he frowned at the
unbidden thought, pushing it away unexamined
They were scheduled for another jump tomorrow, so he spent a
couple of hours going over his gear.
It felt good to slip into the familiar routine and he let
his mind and body focus into the task
But it was only 8:30 when he was done, too early to go to
bed, even if it was a jump night. So he wandered around his home,
trying first to settle in front of the television, then picking
up a book, putting it down again and picking up another.
He'd become used to having someone to talk to in the
evenings.
{Christ.}
The kid hadn't even been there two weeks, how could he have
left such a big hole behind?
He should call him.
{And say what, exactly?}
Make sure he was okay.
{You left him there not six hours ago, with a man who he
considers the best father he ever had for Christ's sake, of
course he's okay}
James punched his flight pack.
Hard.
With an annoyed snort he dropped and began to do push-ups.
He gave himself a hundred.
And then a hundred more.
Finally he stopped counting and just kept doing them until
he fell to the floor, exhausted.
He forced himself onto his feet and pulled himself up the
stairs, collapsing on the bed and falling to sleep immediately.
***
Blair tossed and turned in his dorm room bed.
He felt small and lost, the only resident in the large dorm.
In two days, when the regionals were over, it would be
bustling with noise and activity, but tonight it was empty but
for him.
He couldn't sleep, and his mind kept wandering back to this
afternoon when James had left.
He'd watched him go, wanting to rush after him and tell him
not to leave without him.
Which was crazy because he wanted to spend some time with
Bart. Especially as he had him virtually to himself until the
others got back.
And now, alone in the dark, he wanted nothing more than to
call him and tell him to come and take him home.
Blair got out of bed and began pacing.
His hands punctuated the air as he talked to himself.
{Snap out of it man, what is wrong with you? You've known
the guy for what -two weeks? And you were *so* out of it for most
of that!}
With an impatient swipe of his hands over the hair that fell
into his face, Blair trounced out of the dorm, heading for the
kitchen.
He was hardly surprised to find Bart there, stirring milk on
the stove, two mugs on the counter. He had always known when
Blair needed to talk.
Before every meet when he was little he'd wind up here in
the middle of the night, and Bart would anticipate him. So tense
about the judges and the audience.....since Bart was in training
too, he'd been required to sleep in the dorms, and not allowed to
stay weeknights with Naomi.
Many of those nights he'd ended up curled against Bart's
strong back as they shared his narrow bed.
"Hey, Snuggle. My bed's too small for both of us now, I
think."
The childhood nickname brought a warm blush to Blair's face.
"But I bet you've been sharing *your* bed with somebody
beautiful," the older man continued, smiling a little at the
reaction. Handing Blair a cup of cocoa spiced with cinnamon, Bart
sat across from him at the table.
"I can't believe how much you've grown."
Blair sipped and mumbled into his cup.
"I can't believe I'm taller than you are."
A graceful shrug, years of dance classes showing clearly.
"I'm not that surprised."
They sipped their cocoa for a while and Blair caught Bart
looking at him with concern.
"Why would you think I'm sharing my bed with someone
beautiful?" the words shot out of Blair's mouth before he could
stop them.
Bart took one of Blair's hands in his, massaging it firmly,
a soothing gesture from their past.
"Remember when you started on the high bar?"
Blair nodded, slightly nervous but beginning to relax.
"The way your hands tore and bled...."
"Mom hated it. She yelled at Coach to let me wear gloves."
Blair said softly.
"And he said that they had to toughen up, That's when you
would get gloves." Bart's fingers sought the small rough spots
that were the only remnants of those hard-earned calluses.
"You were the toughest little kid I had ever seen, Snuggle. I
couldn't believe it when I realized you were the smartest, too."
A little smile playing on his lips, Blair shrugged.
"Yeah, well."
"But, man, you looked funny."
Blair's eyes widened and an unwilling chuckle escaped him.
"I mean, you were cute and all, but your eyes were too big
for your face, your hands were too small and your shoulders too
broad....Actually, you looked a lot like I did at your age. All
out of proportion."
"But you grew out of it, man." Blair said, a little sadly.
"You think you didn't? Jesus, Snuggle, you look great." His
open smile brought a flood of memories and Blair's throat
tightened. "Look, I know we haven't kept that close in touch. But
I always thought of you. I would sit down and think; okay, he's
ten now. I bet he's got that bike he wanted. Or; now he's
fifteen, the girls must be all over him."
Blair blushed at that.
"I was always the ugly duckling, Bart. And..." he paused.
"And?" Bat prompted.
"Now I'm an ugly duck." Blair shrugged.
Bart shook his head, but the teenager wasn't allowing him to
object.
"Always shorter, always younger...never dressing right or
fitting in. Hiding in the reeds, hoping I'll get away this time.
He saw the expression on Bart's face, but didn't understand
it. It looked like sorrow. Maybe with some worry mixed in. And
some just plain sadness. He didn't like making his friend sad.
So he pulled his hand away with an easy grin and drank his
cocoa and talked animatedly about his scholarship until the
expression faded.
"So I'm gonna be Indiana Jones, I know I can. Y'know it's
because of you, man. You kept telling me that I had to do
something I loved, that nothing was working this hard for if you
didn't love it."
Bart clearly remembered saying that, because he looked
flattered.
"I didn't think I was making an impression."
Blair chuckled and shook his head.
"Oh, I heard you. I was just too tired and sore to answer.
But when I got out there, into the real world, it all went with
me. Stuck like glue."
"You're the closest thing I ever had to a child, Blair."
Blair glanced nervously, hands drawing idle patterns on the
wooden tabletop, tracing the wood grain.
"I'd like to think that you can still come to me if you need
to talk about something. Big or small."
When Blair was still silent, apparently engrossed in his
invisible doodles, Bart stood. He rinsed his cup and set it in
the drainer, then went to the door. His hand gave Blair's shoulder
a squeeze as he passed.
Blair sighed and listened to him leave.
Two days later, watching as Bart put Michael through his
paces, Blair remembered another boy running through routines with
him.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Over and over and over, the boy pushing himself harder and
harder, until it was second nature, automatic. And the smile on
Bart's face had been the best reward of all.
Feeling suddenly lost, without direction, Blair gave into
the urge to call James, to connect with someone from his present.
It had been gnawing at him since he got here, and he didn't
understand why.
Going to the office, he carefully smoothed out the piece of
paper, wrinkled from his jeans pocket
He dialed the number, suddenly apprehensive, but the phone
began to ring before he'd even had a chance to consider hanging
up.
James came out of the kitchen with 3 beers as the phone
rang. Steve was the closest to the phone so he picked up the
receiver, barking into it.
"What."
The line hummed softly for a moment. "Heelllooo..." he
spoke with exaggerated tones, annoyed at the interruption of the
game. "Who's there?"
"Um..." came the quiet voice. "Is James Ellison there?"
"Who is this?" demanded Steve, the voice seemed familiar,
but he couldn't quite place it.
"I'd like to speak to Lieutenant Ellison please." Blair
responded with his most grown-up voice, he was not going to be
intimidated, he knew he had dialed the correct number.
He could hear James in the background, wanting to know who
was on the phone.
"How the hell should I know, they won't say." barked the
tanked ranger. "I think it's that fag boy you picked up." he said
as he handed the phone over, suddenly remembering where he knew
the voice from.
James afforded him a glare and took the receiver from his
hand.
"Ellison." He spoke succinctly.
Just then the team scored a touchdown and the small room
erupted in noise, drowning out the voice at the other end of the
line.
"Just a minute!" James yelled into the phone. "I'll get the
phone in my bedroom." Amid shouts and catcalls he made his way up
the stairs. It could have been worse, he thought, if they hadn't
been so wrapped up in the game, it would have been worse.
Blair waited, listening to the men cut it up, whooping over
the touchdown and joking among themselves about James' love-life,
or lack thereof.
Sitting on the side of his bed, James grabbed the phone and
shouted downstairs, listening for the click of the other
receiver.
When it came -- after what seemed an inordinately long time
-- he finally spoke.
"Hello? Kid?"
"Yeah."
Blair didn't know that he sounded tired to James. Just that
it felt weirdly good to hear his voice.
"I just wanted to...um, to say hi. See how you're doing,
man."
"I'm fine, kid. You having a good time?"
"I guess so." the shrug was almost visible. "Bart is working
hard with that Michael kid."
Thinking he heard something in that quiet voice -- perhaps
the quiet itself -- James wondered if the teen was regretting the
choice his mother had made for him all those years ago.
"Does it bother you? Knowing you could be where he is now?"
"Not really." it sounded like he meant it. "I mean, it would
be cool to be thinking about it; going to the Olympics someday,
winning that medal..." he paused. "But I really love what I'm
doing. I probably wouldn't have made it this far. I was meant to
be a scientist, I would have figured that out."
"You're a smart kid." James agreed.
"I wasn't fishing."
"I know. I'm just being honest here. You're a really smart
kid."
"You've been really nice to me, James. I was kind of
wondering..."
James heard the deep breath he took, and waited patiently,
now allowing himself to speculate on the query.
He waited for a while.
The kid's heard was racing like a frightened rabbit's.
How do I know that, he wondered. {I am definitely imagining
that.} he shook his head in mild disgust. {projecting my
feelings.}
"Why are you being so nice, Ellison? You hardly know me. I'm
not like the kind of person you're friends with..."
Shrugging, James struggled to come up with an answer he
could live with.
"James...?" Quiet, with just a hint of apprehension
"Don't pigeonhole me because of my job." it's mildly
defensive. "I'm friends with people I like. And I like you." it
was the truth, and so much less.
He held his breath, momentarily afraid the kid would ask
why...or worse, how James liked him...but Blair just sighed and
mumbled something else entirely.
"Oh..." the sound faded away "I'd like to come back and hang
out for a while, if that's okay with you."
"I said you could, didn't I?" he kept saying these things,
far harsher than he intended to. "It's okay with me." James answered firmly, but he was mad at himself for the spike of *sensation* that came from the question. He wasn't going to dignify it with any other name. "I'll come and get you. Would Saturday be okay? I'll be off for the day, I can pick you up. Maybe we could hang out up there for a bit.
"Yeah....Bart will understand."
The older man could tell Blair was hesitating again. He
didn't know how and didn't questions it. he could just tell.
What?" he made it gentle, surprised by this in himself.
"I was thinking...do you like rock-climbing?" the question
startles James.
"uh - yeah?
"Well, there's this place, down near Fort Sill...Mount
Scott?"
"I've heard of it.
"It's a great climb.....I did a little bit when I was a
kid."
"You went rock-climbing at seven?" again James wondered what
the hell that woman had been thinking.
"just a little' it's not a hard climb.....really just
walking up boulders. it's cool on one side, they look like they
all just rolled down like dice..." he trailed off, possibly
embarrassed by his enthusiasm
"That sounds good."
"...you could bring your buddies...y'know, if you wanted the
company or something."
Immediately James knew he wasn't going to do *that*.
"No, it's not their thing, kid. Just you and me, okay?"
"you gonna bring stuff? all we need is canteens, really."
"I'll bring it."
Blair wondered at the butterflies in the pit of his stomach
when James said that
Another long silence. then an irritated roar from
downstairs.
"Ellison! You gonna be on the phone all day?!"
"I'll be right down!" he shouted back, covering the phone
with hand, and then speaking into it again. "Look, I gotta go.
Their gonna start leaving glasses on the coffee table without
coasters or something." he poked fun at himself cheerfully.
"Yeah, okay. Thanks, James."
"I'll see you bright and early Saturday morning, okay?
"kay." the kid was still on the other end when Ellison hung
up, feeling vaguely guilty for the act.
Then he went downstairs and endured the rough jokes and
insults of male bonding.
Not really noting the two sets of eyes, on opposite sides of
the room, that stared at him and didn't participate.
Occasionally they stared at each other as well.
***
Pulling into the parking lot, James spotted Blair sitting on
a guard rail, legs swinging, pack beside him. He jumped down as
James got out of the truck, coming across the parking lot toward
him.
They met somewhere in the middle, hands bumping as they
awkwardly greeted each other
James thumped Blair on the back a couple of times.
"Ready to go?"
"Yeah. Bart had to run an errand. So I'm all yours."
James smiled at that, liking the way it sounded, but
enjoying the morning so much he didn't want to examine it.
They climbed into the truck and were on their way.
"Do you need to stop anywhere before we head for the hills?"
Blair shook his head. "You brought some water bottles,
right?" At James' nod Blair said something that could have passed
for "cool", but the older man wasn't paying attention, trying too
hard to quell an instinctive physical reaction to him instead.
"It's a good six hour climb...but really pretty."
At James' nod, Blair grinned "great 'cause that might be all
we need, but we are going to *need* the water" Smiling faintly,
James let the sound of Blair's voice wash over him as the younger
man told him about his stay at the facility.
I've lost some of my flexibility...but I don't think I
really need to work at it" he grinned "It's not like I'm going to
be performing as a contortionist."
James didn't respond as the image of Blair, doubled over in
front of him flashed through his head.
That was loss of flexibility? he wondered.
"You seemed plenty flexible to me. The ladies must really
like that."
Blair blushed slightly and murmured something non-committal.
James couldn't quite hear it, but, for some reason, thought
he should have.
"I'll bet you left some pretty little blond back home." he
teased.
Blair laughed, but the sound seemed self-conscious, forced.
The blush wouldn't have been visible to normal eyes, but James
didn't have anything to compare it to.
So he saw it.
"Come on, man, let an old man live vicariously" he didn't
know why he was pushing it.
"I study a lot, man."
Seeing those hands fidgeting in the kid's lap, It suddenly
dawned on James that maybe the kid wasn't all that experienced.
Quickly, he decided that he should change the subject.
"Tell me about Mt. Scott"
"Hey. Yeah." Blair seemed to relax when the focus was off
his love life.
{Or lack thereof?} James wondered, still startled by the
idea.
Throwing the older man a quick, grateful glance, Blair
launched into the National Geographic (abridged version) report
on the climb
"We used to do it once a month in the spring and fall." he
finished almost twenty minutes later.
James was quiet. His ears were ringing.
"You're going to be a teacher, aren't you?" he said it with
quiet humor.
"Ummm...well, yeah, I guess. I mean, if I want to get my
trips funded I'll have to be affiliated with a university.
They'll probably want me to teach."
"I think you'll be good at it." the words had scarcely left
James' mouth when the kid unbuckled himself and leaned way out
the window. "Hey!" reaching over, he grabbed the back of the
loose jacket and held on. "What are you *doing*?"
"Looking for the turn!" the kid shouted back, his entire
upper body out of the vehicle. "It's right up there, past that
little sign." he slipped back in. Watching the road, James
didn't move his hand fast enough when he let go and Blair sat on
it.
The sudden rush of blood to his cock shocked him and he
yanked it away so fast the kid stared.
{What did I do?} the thought was clear on his face. It
bothered James, but there was nothing he could say.
"Look." he said, pulling into a small parking lot. The sun
was just starting to get going. "We're here."
He parked and was out of the struck before Blair had a
chance to stop staring. When the kid came around the back the
bigger man was pulling on a small backpack.
"What's in there?" the words were so carefully neutral that
James couldn't help but notice it.
"The water. Some sandwiches, fruit. And first aid kit, just
in case."
"Nothing for me to carry?"
Looking at the previously cheerful face, James regretted the
expression he saw there now.
"Don't worry kid, I'm not going to do all the work. We'll
trade off every hour."
"Good." that brought a smile as Blair was reassured that
James didn't think of him as some kind of weenie.
There was a paved road circling the mountain, small as far
as mountains went but big for Oklahoma. Blair led him around the
first curve until they reached what looked like the site of an
ancient landslide.
Stopping and looking up, the kid grinned widely.
"Here?" James asked, standing beside him and staring up with
him.
"here." with that one-word answer, Blair stepped over the
short rail at the side of the road and clambered over the first
patch of little red rocks.
After a couple of hours the sun grew hot and the kid took
off his over shirt, tying it around his waist leaving him in a
sweat-stained tank top. The thick curly chest hair caught the
older man's eyes...it was just so incongruent.
{I look at him,} James thought as he handed the pack over
for Blair's second turn, {And I see this little, skinny kid. With
those big blue eyes....} Blair buckled the pack on and jumped,
his hands slapping over the edge of the next big boulder, leaving
him hanging a couple of feet off the ground, knees pressing into
the rock for purchase.
{And then he does something like that. He's strong and he's
tough.} he cut the thought off there, or tried to, as he made the
same jump and pulled himself up with a grunt, turning and
reaching to grab the kid's shoulder and give him a hand when he
was there. Blair didn't protest, as he hadn't every other time
James had done that. Apparently he didn't mind the help, just
didn't want to be thought of as a sissy.
"You wanna take a break?" James asked
Shrugging in response "only if you do, man" he replied
"No, I'm good to go"
"Then lead on MacDuff"
"No, no" said James quickly. "You go ahead. I'll follow"
"Sure thing." Blair turned back to the rock face and
continued to hike ahead of James.
Most of the rocks were fairly small, three or four feet in
diameter....and the rest were big, like twelve and twenty feet
Fortunately there were small and medium sized ones piled next to
the bigger ones so they could get over them.
An hour or so later found them climbing a fairly steep
patch.
Both were reaching, using hands and feet.
Surveying the path above him, Blair called out to James
"You're gonna have to be careful here, watch me so you know
where the holds are"
Complying, James looked up, straight into Blair's ass.
Forgetting to watch for footholds, James found himself
watching the muscles play under Blair's jeans instead.
Once again the blood began to rush to his groin. With a
shake of his head he shifted his focus to the rock under his
hands and feet. He grimaced when he realized that the red dust
was being ground into his jeans.
Despite his best efforts, however, he kept stealing glances
upwards.
{Just stop that right now} he told himself in best drill
sergeants voice, the one he used to quell Harper when needed.
But another peek upwards shot another flare of heat towards his
cock.
Leaning his head against the rock, he let his thoughts
wander for a moment, hoping they would drift away from their
current path.
{Look up} a small insistent voice seemed to echo in his
head, and inexorably, he followed it's directions.
Blair had just arrived at the top of the section they were
climbing and he had pulled his shoulders over the lip. The
position afforded James a clear and unobstructed view; legs
dangling loosely, topped by the rounded tight orbs.
Swallowing back an unexpected moan, he almost lost his
handholds.
The near mishap shook him out of his contemplation of the
younger man and he continued his climb, managing to keep his eyes
forward and up only as far as his next handhold.
At the top of the outcrop, Blair turned and hung his head
and shoulders over to give James a hand. To his surprise, the
man was only about halfway up the rock.
"Hey man, what's the hold up?"
Too distracted to come up with a quick excuse, James decided
that silence was the best course of action at this point and he
willed his errant cock to quiet as he climbed.
Nearing the top, Blair's hands were suddenly dangling in
front of him, going for his shoulders. He felt the firm grip help
him over the last couple of feet and over the outcrop.
James lay back with a sigh.
They were about three-quarters of the way up now. Several
carloads of people had driven slowly up the narrow winding road,
pointing at them and occasionally waving.
"What kind of sandwiches did you bring?" the kid chirped,
planing himself right beside the elder man.
The top of the boulder was pitted with erosion scars, and
they were sharing the only smooth space. It was warm beneath
them.
And Blair was too warm next to him, their bodies lightly
touching, aligned along his slender length
Watching as the older man shrugged off the pack and began to
rummage through it, Blair made a mental inventory. Allowing
himself to feel what he was feeling.
{Just for a minute.} he told himself. {It can't hurt to
look, right? Just for a minute?}
Broad shoulders tapering to a trim waist.
Powerful biceps and gentle, almost delicate hands.
He remembered how tender those hands had been when he was
sick. His eyes moved down to the long muscled legs encased in
tight jeans. A new rip near the top of one thigh gave a peekaboo
glimpse at smooth white skin.
Then wandered back up to linger at James' crotch.
His breath caught in his throat and he felt himself flush.
Lying quietly with his eyes closed, James heard the gasp and
wondered what caused it.
Lazily opening his eyes, he found himself caught by the
look on the young man's face.
Blair's flush deepened when he realized that he'd been
caught staring. Averting his gaze and clearing his throat, he
moved to jump to his feet.
A warm hand on his arm stilled his movements.
Reluctantly lifting his eyes to meet James', he steeled
himself for the censure he was sure to find there. Big tough
army dude did not like being stared at by other guys, of that he
had no doubt.
Instead, he only found questions.
Questions he didn't want to answer, even to himself.
Certainly not halfway up a mountain, stuck, as it were, with the
other man.
Pulling up and stepping past the older man, he infused his
voice with cheer.
"Hey man, you never told me what kind of sandwiches you'd
brought"
James looked for a moment, like he wasn't going to let the
questions slide, unasked and unanswered
Then he shrugged mentally. He wasn't ready to ask them
himself, much contemplate the answers.
"Roast beef and tuna. I didn't know which you would want.
And some bananas and pears."
"I'll take the tuna. A big guy like you needs something
solid like roast beef." As soon as the words were out of his
mouth he could have kicked himself.
{What am I doing? Making personal comments like that...what's
he gonna think?} Blair worried silently as he ate.
It was just another of the questions that weren't questions
yet because he didn't dare ask them.
When lunch was over James felt like laying back and relaxing
a minute more. To stall further movement- the kid was already
starting to wiggle and bounce in place - he pulled out the fruit
and offered a choice.
Then cringed inwardly when Blair took a banana.
{Why had he brought the banana's? Six kinds of perfectly
good fruit in his fridge and he brought bananas. Where was my
brain?}
Sure enough, the kid slowly peeled the skin back and,
holding the banana firmly in one hand, began to nibble at the
tip.
It was all James could do not to groan.
It was becoming harder and harder to push the feelings away.
And then it got worse.
Settling back again, Blair plucked the peel and slowly
worked it the rest of the way down the banana
James was caught by the unconsciously sensual movements of
the tapered fingers. His breath caught when a third of the banana
disappeared down the kid's throat.
White teeth peeked out from behind red lips as Blair bit
into it.
James caught himself leaning towards the younger man and
turned the movement into a stretch. He thought he saw Blair's
eyes flick to his crotch and he stoop abruptly.
"If you're about dome molesting that, let's get a move on,
kid." the words came out harsher than he'd intended and he felt
bad when Blair flashed him a hurt, uncomprehending glance.
"Sure James, anything you say." the words were slightly
subdued.
{What did I *do*} he asked himself.
Shrugging, he shook it off. He knew he could get on
people's nerves, he just forgot himself sometimes.
Following the bounding figure at a slower pace, James
contemplated his attitude.
The banana thing had obviously not been intentional, hell it
was his own fault for bringing the damn things. He'd just felt
himself pulled towards Blair and so he'd lashed out, wounding the
young man in the process.
They we're only about an hour from the summit when a chance
presented itself to James to apologize for his gruffness without
making too big a deal of it.
They were crossing a group of huge boulders. After climbing
one they decided to try jumping from the top of it to the next
and so on to reach a better spot to go upwards.
The third jump was too far for Blair to step and the edges
too slippery for him to risk a jump. Secure on the other side,
James held out a hand and the kid grasped it tightly. Adding his
own strength to Blair's he got him across in a single leap and
then steadied him on the landing.
Precariously balanced, Blair leaned on him for a
split-second before stepping away.
"Hey, kid." James said quietly, trying not to smell him or
look at him. "Remember the night I picked you up? I said to
ignore me when I snapped, I just sort of do it automatically?"
A wary nod.
"I didn't mean it, earlier, when I bit your head off."
another inward wince, but the kid seemed to miss the innuendo
completely as his face broke into a broad smile of relief.{Need
to stop doing that.} he told himself. {Gonna scare him off.}
"Hey, man. It's cool. I understand."
James doubted that, but didn't want to say anything else. So
he just hung his head back and stared up.
It got steeper for the rest of the climb.
There were people a the top looking down at them.
"Not too far to go." he said conversationally.
"But the hardest part." Blair grinned at him, and James
wondered if *he* was missing the innuendo this time.
Two more jumps; James helped Blair over each one, his hand
lingering perhaps a few seconds longer than it should have on the
kid's waist with each landing, and then they faced the real
climb.
A crevice ran crookedly up the rock face, providing the
only holds they were going to find, but it was steep and it
looked tough. Almost unaware that he was doing it, James checked
the kid's breathing. He wanted to be sure he was up to this
before they started.
A little fast, but not wheezing. He seemed to be fully
recovered from the life-threatening bout of pneumonia.
"You go first." he said, shifting the small pack.
Technically it was time to exchange it again, but he was hoping
the kid would forget.
Blair nodded.
"Have you done this since you were a kid?" suddenly curious,
James ignored the accusing little voice in his head that said he
just wanted to look at the kid's ass some more.
"Oh, yeah, man. When we were in Mexico last year I climbed
almost every day."
"That's why you're good." the big man gave him a smile. "I
didn't think it was held over since you were seven."
"Hey!" Blair objected mildly, leaning on the rock and
reaching for the first handhold. "I was a tough little kid."
"You still are." the words were out before James had a
chance to censor them.
Hoisting himself up, Blair cleared a couple of feet before
he was secure enough to look down and retort, his words soft but
strong, maybe a little teasing. "I may be short, Ellison, but I'm
not little."
James blinked, the words echoing in his head. Then he
blinked again and stared at the kid's face, which was looking
down at him from about two feet above his head. Searching the
open young face, he was startled by what he saw there.
Interest?
An invitation?
Definitely an awareness that something was happening here.
Returning the grin, he reached for the handholds the kid had
used -- were they still warm? Couldn't be -- and began to follow.
Although the rest of the climb had been hard work, this was
the real challenge.
True free fall rock-climbing, clinging to the face on an
unforgiving mountain. Sure, there wasn't a fifty or one hundred
foot straight drop beneath them, but the ten or twenty feet to
the boulders below would still do plenty of damage. James was
surprised to realize that he'd never really considered the
danger. Hadn't even thought about it. Just followed the kid
blindly.
There was one hairy moment, up near the top of the vertical
pull.
Above him he heard Blair curse quietly -- well, he assumed
it was cursing, he didn't recognize the language, though it
sounded vaguely French -- and then a shower of dust and pebbles
came down on him. The crevice was straight up at this particular
spot and so he was directly below the kid.
"What's wrong?" he called up, too loudly, he realized
instantly.
The people watching them perked up and were joined by
others.
{Great. Mountain-climbing rubber neckers.} he thought
scornfully.
"I can't reach the next one!" Blair sounded frustrated and
not a bit worried. "My arm just isn't long enough!"
"How far off are you?"
A minute of silence, then a grumbled reply.
"At least a foot, man."
"I can help." so saying, James reached for the next hold,
and the next, and pulled until his head was even with the kid's
back, but the position still wasn't right. Fortunately there
were several open cracks for him to use. Two more grab-and-pulls
and then his body was covering the kid's. He didn't mean for it
to happen that way, but there was no other place for him to go.
The trail they were following was too narrow, the only way for
him
to help was to do this.
His arms were long and the kid was slender, but he still had
to press firmly against him to make his holds.
"James?" a hint of doubt in the words. "Is this really
necessary, man?"
"There's really no other way for me to help, is there?" the
bigger man said, basically rhetorically. "I've got you covered."
James wished mightily that he'd stopped and thought about
this before he'd done it.
Because now all he could think about was the warmth and
sweet sweat smell of the body beneath his, caught between his
hardness and the rock's.
And he *was* hard...
{Oh, God. Strike me now.} he prayed fervently, shifting as
far away as he could, really, really wanting to *not* be digging
his stiff cock into this kid's ass.
His movements made the kid nervous, he could tell.
Blair was pressing himself harder into the rock and being
very still.
"Just let me get set and I'll give you a leg up." James said
between gritted teeth. The hair in his face moved, the kid could
have nodded. But the older man wasn't paying much attention.
Digging his feet into the holds, he bent a knee as far as he
could and brought a hand to the kid's shoulder.
"Step up." he urged, his voice tight. He was way too
stimulated by this, and frankly ashamed of himself.
Without a word Blair raised a leg. He couldn't get his foot
to James' knee, but did manage to get his leg bent without
kicking the other man anywhere delicate, and then he was using
that boost to reach up, stretching him self precariously.
The balance shifted and he began sliding sideways, long
fingers scrabbling just inches away from the hold.
With one hand holding fast to the wall, James did what he
had to with the other; grabbed the kid's ass and heaved him up
that last few inches.
The kid yelped an 'ow!' and then latched on and pulled
himself up with a lunge, pulling away from James' body.
When he was secure he stared down at James for a long
minute.
Feeling his face flush, the older man quickly removed his
hand, which was still clutching the gently rounded ass.
And the kid smiled.
Sweetly.
Knowingly.
And started climbing again, clambering the last few feet
quickly while James followed more slowly.
Well aware of the spectators that had gathered at the top,
he wanted to be sure his cock was under control before he pulled
himself up.
Arriving at the last foot, Blair's hand dangled in front of
his face. James contemplated it a moment before taking it and
letting the younger man help heave him up and over.
"Check out the view man!" His companion, bouncing once
again, flung an arm out, indicating the valley below them, but
James let his eyes linger for a moment over the firm ass
before moving on to the *other* view
The spectators were losing interest, but there was one
elderly woman near them, smiling at them.
He noticed the camera hanging around her neck, it was an
expensive-looking one.
"Excuse me. Ma'am?" he said in his best white-bread America
voice.
Her smile widened.
"That was some climb, boys."
"Would you mind taking a picture of us? We didn't think to
bring a camera..."
Blair was staring at him like he'd lost his mind.
"I'd be happy to pay you to mail it to me..." thinking
suddenly that he sounded like an idiot, James turned back to the
view.
"Why don't you stand over there?" she sounded like she was
laughing at them, but the camera was up and ready.
Tugging an unresisting Blair after him, James stepped out
onto an outcrop and pulled the kid out beside him, so they were
framed against the sky and nothing else.
"That's very pretty," she said, fiddling with her toy. When
James' rested his arm over Blair's shoulders, the kid couldn't
help smiling goofily and slipping his around the muscled waist.
James looked down at him, surprised and showing it on his
face.
The goofy smile faded to something more intimate, much more
important. Neither of them heard the click-and-whirr of the camera
snapping pictures.
There was a moment -- neither could have said where they
were or what they were doing -- when the mountain faded and all
that was left was the two of them and the sky around them.
And a breeze that seemed to be pushing them toward each
other.
James actually swayed, closer to the kid, the dark blue of
those eyes seeming to swallow him up.
He saw -- thought he saw -- was *sure* he saw -- welcome in
those eyes.
"I'll need your address, dear." the wavery voice shattered
the spell and they stepped apart, motions choreographed by
society, a controlling ballet.
Driving back to James' in relative silence, both were tired
from their long climb. It was dark by the time they arrived at
the condo.
Flinging himself on the couch, Blair gave a long sigh.
"I'm gonna be sore in the morning." he grinned.
"You? Mr. I-can-touch-my-knees-with-my-face...are going to
be sore?" James teased the younger man.
"Different muscles, man. We used a whole bunch today that
haven't seen the light of day in quite awhile."
James tried not to dwell on the images *that* conjured up
and headed into the kitchen to make some supper.
"Steak and salad okay?" He called out.
"Sure, man, whatever."
Listening to pots and pans banging along with doors opening
and shutting, Blair groaned almost silently, knowing he should go
help.
James practically flew back out into the living room.
"You okay?" he asked, concerned.
Blair gave him a puzzled look. "Yeah. I'm fine."
James looked down at the younger man sheepishly.
"I just thought I'd heard you moaning."
{Not yet, man.} Blair thought, swallowing a smirk. {But how
the hell did you hear that over the racket you were making?}
Watching Blair's eyebrow raise, James berated himself
mentally for his poor choice of words.
"Well, I *did* groan. But I didn't think I'd been that loud,
man."
"Well, I guess you were." James wasn't willing to contemplate
another explanation for his having heard the exhalation. Things
were beginning to feel surreal enough as it was.
"I was just figuring I should give you a hand in the
kitchen, but it seems like too much of an effort to get up."
"Don't sweat it kid, I think I can manage." Looking down
calculatingly at the younger man, James contemplated the sanity
of his next urge. Finally deciding to just go for it; if Blair
wanted to read anything into it, there wasn't much he could do
about that. "Why don't I give you a massage after we eat? That
should loosen your muscles up a bit and you won't be so sore in
the morning."
His sky-blue eyes dared Blair to make more of the offer than
what it was.
Shrugging, about to refuse without even asking himself why,
Blair winced as a pain ran through him from the motion.
"I think maybe I should accept." he replied, almost
reluctantly.
{Great, I'm gonna just sit here while he's got his hands all
over me. Why on earth did I tell him yes?}
Forty-five minutes later found him perversely disappointed.
James was giving him a massage, working his tired muscles
loose. And nothing more.
The older man had been expecting this to be a challenge.
The kid lying face-down on the sofa, James on his knees
beside it...touching him, stroking and kneading that young skin.
But that was what surprised him.
The size and shape and vulnerability of the body beneath his
hands reminded him, like a slap, that this was a *kid*.
Not an adult. Not a peer.
*Not* somebody he should want.
He would never *dream* of seducing a seventeen-year-old
girl, why should this kid be any different just because he was a
he?
Thoughts of court-martial and statutory rape were enough to
kill any romantic or sexual thoughts he'd had when he offered the
massage.
But, strangely enough, the thought of what the military
would do to him for having a male lover weren't nearly as
convincing.
"There," he said, finishing with several long, soothing
back-length strokes. "That should do you."
Blair mumbled his agreement and thanks, almost asleep.
"Hey," said James, tugging on his sleeve. "Don't fall asleep
in your clothes, you'll undo all the work I've just done."
"S'k, James" Slurred Blair, letting the older man help him up.
James gave him a gentle shove towards the stairs.
"Go do your teeth and clean yourself up." he said softly,
ignoring the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach at Blair's
use of a nickname. Reminding himself again.
{He's only 17.}
James watched Blair climb the stairs and then headed back
into the kitchen.
He took his time cleaning up, wanting to see the kid safely
tucked in for the night before going up himself.
Hearing Blair returning to the couch and settling in, he
headed over to the couch.
Pulling the extra afghan off a chair and tucking it in
around Blair's feet, he spoke softly.
"Goodnight, kid."
"'nite, James" came his answer, the young man all but asleep.
James smiled as he made his way up to his bed.
***
James sighed happily as he walked into his condo. It had been
a hard day at the base. Waiting on a drop was always worse on
the nerves than the actual drop itself, wherever they went and
whatever the mission.
Breathing in deeply, wondering what the kid had made for
supper tonight, he made his way back to the kitchen.
Blair had taken over the cooking a couple of days after he
got back, insisting to James that he needed to do something to
feel worthwhile. He wasn't sure what the kid did all day, since
the place always looked the same when he got home, but the kid
always seemed happy with it, and the food was great.
Steeping into the living room and closing the door quietly,
he watched the kid for a few stolen moments, smiling faintly at
the tendrils of hair that had caught damply on his face.
Since he'd only brought a few things, Blair had begun making
a habit of borrowing James' sweats, and the older man hadn't
objected. He liked seeing the kid in his clothes, and admitting
that to himself didn't bother him.
Of course, he still couldn't admit other things....
"Smells good." he spoke quietly.
Blair started slightly, wondering idly how long James had
been standing there, watching him.
He'd caught the older man watching him a fair bit, and it
always left him feeling slightly breathless.
Lifting a lid on one of the myriad of pots bubbling away on
the stove, he was encompassed in steam.
Hearing the slightly strangled sound James made, Blair turned
his deep blue eyes on the watching man.
"So how was your day?" he said with laughter. {God, I
sounded like the man's wife.}
Clearing his throat, James moved to sit at the table.
"Long. And boring. There's not much to do at the moment. Kind
of a hurry-up-and-wait situation, you know."
Blair nodded. {Oh yes, I know.} visions of interminable
classes rose to taunt him. {I care for this man.} the thought
rose unbidden, banishing the others. Turning to exam James, he was
careful to disguise his scrutiny.
Feeling his groin tighten, he knew that statement to be
true.
He was pretty sure the feeling was returned, too, but James
could be so hard to read, and he wasn't exactly an expert at this
sort of thing.
He dished up the food, steeling his nerve.
Placing a plate in front of James, he dropped a quick soft
kiss on the older man's forehead. As it registered and James'
eyes narrowed, he launched into a lecture about the Nolundy tribe
or the Gobi desert, where each individual had his own way of
saying hello, so even in a sandstorm, you would know right away
who was there.
The meal passed quickly, the men debating the current fate
of the Florida Panthers.
James wondered at how comfortable he felt with the other man
in his home. He wasn't a comfortable-sharing-his-space-with-
others kind of guy, one of the reasons why he lived off-base. But
the kid had kind of wormed his way under his defenses and he had
been surprised to discover that he liked that. Liked the fact
that there was someone he could share private stuff with.
***
A Saturday afternoon, the sun beating down steadily,
roasting crops and folks alike. The perfect afternoon for a game
at the park. When James had suggested it Blair had been almost
painfully enthusiastic, all of that youthful energy bubbling
over.
Barreling into the older man, Blair lost his footing and
landed heavily on top of James as the older man lost his footing
and fell to the ground. The basketball slipping from his hands.
Breathlessly he laughed down into the face below him, before
lurching up and launching himself after the ball.
With a flourish he swished it through the hoop before James
had even begun to find his bearings and his feet.
"Come on old man, if you don't get up soon, I'm gonna grab
me some extra points." He sent the ball sailing through the air
again, watching with a grin as it passed through the basket,
nothing but net.
Collecting the ball once again, Blair shifted to the other
side, intent on scoring yet another goal.
"Oh no you don't!" James growled out. Surging upwards,
grabbed the young man around his waist, sending them both back to
the ground.
This time he was on top and was suddenly acutely aware of
his weight on the small, yet sturdy frame beneath him.
Gasping, all the air knocked out of him, Blair grinned, and
then tilted his head up, placing a gentle kiss on James' lips.
James shot up as if he had been bitten.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
He watched the dancing light fade from Blair's face as the
young man scrambled to his feet.
Face red, arms curling around his chest, eyes downcast,
Blair managed a scratchy "sorry man." before scurrying away.
James sighed heavily.
{Way to go, tough guy.}
His eyes followed Blair's progress as the young man reached
the truck and continued down the road past it.
{He's going to walk all the way back. Or, maybe he's not
even going to *go* back.}
Jogging after him he passed the truck, eyeing it
calculatingly and deciding he'd do better on foot.
He continued, calling out but Blair either didn't hear, or
wouldn't answer him.
Catching up to him, James grasped the kid's arm and pulled
him to a stop.
Blair stood defensively, refusing to look up and acknowledge
the man before him.
Taking his chin between his fingers, James gently forced it
up.
"Look at me." he insisted when Blair still refused to meet
his eyes.
Almost defiantly Blair lifted his lashes and glared up at
the larger man.
James felt like a heel. The attempted anger did little to
hide the hurt in the young man's eyes.
Standing on the side of the road, holding the young man
still, James didn't know what to say.
"I'm sorry..." he began.
"Aw, fuck." exclaimed Blair. "I don't *need* your pity."
He turned away, yanking his arm out of the bigger man's grasp.
James grabbed a hold of him again. Shaking him slightly he
admonished: "Would you just listen for a minute, this kind of
thing has never been easy for me!"
Blair waited, not wanting to add the verbal rejection he
knew was coming to the physical one he'd just suffered.
James pulled him a little closer and leaned over him. Blair
wanted to cry as his traitorous body responded to the nearness of
the larger man. He'd just started learning to recognize these
feelings and now they were for nothing.
"Blair, I'm 28." the older man looked both sad and resigned
when he spoke. "You're 17."
"Thanks for the recap, buddy." Blair shot out, sarcasm
dripping venomously.
Giving him a little shake, James sighed loudly.
"It's not that I don't have feelings for you."
"You just don't have *those* feelings for me." finished
Blair heavily.
"No, that's not it at all."
"Really?" it was said in such a startled, unsure way that
James had to pause again.
Giving in to the impulse he leaned down and gently brushed
his lips across Blair's. The younger man swayed closer to him and
his mouth opened right away. James pulled back before it could
get away from him.
"I could be arrested for what I want to do to you."
Large blue eyes looked up at him in confusion.
"What do you want to do to me?" he asked, wondering what
exactly it was that James thought he would be arrested for.
"It's called statutory rape and..." he held up his hand as
Blair opened his mouth to interrupt. "It doesn't matter if it's
consensual or not."
Although he had *some* idea of what could be done about
feelings like this, Blair wondered if James had more details.
Blair was shook his head.
"That is such a load of crap, man."
"No Blair, it's not. Look, when I brought you to the
hospital..." James stopped for a moment, making sure Blair was
paying attention. "The doc practically accused me of it.
Insisted on examining you privately, just to check to see if I'd
..done anything to you. He thought I was taking advantage of
you. Hell, I couldn't even tell them your last name, where you
from..."
Blair's eyes grew round at the thought of what the doctor
could have been looking for.
He gulped audibly, and his body began to stand down. *That*
was more than he was ready to think about.
Maybe more than he would *ever* be ready to think about.
Pulling him against his chest in a quick hug, James voiced
his apology again in a soft voice "I'm sorry I let this get out
of hand."
Turning them, he guided the younger man with a hand at his
back, moving them back to the truck
For the first time since their climb, the silence was
awkward.
James drove, hands tight on the wheel, jaw clenching, Blair
looking out the window, trying not to let the conflicting
emotions overwhelm him.
{It's not that he doesn't like me.} he told himself sternly,
trying to believe it. {It's the age thing that's got him tied
up.}
James' beeper sounded like a klaxon in the confines of the
truck, making both men jump.
The teenager almost didn't hear it, so caught up in his own
thoughts. {Great. I *finally* find somebody who makes me
understand what those guys were always talking about...and he
thinks he's too old for me.}
It hurt so much his eyes filled with tears.
He wiped them quickly, angrily, hoping James was too busy
with his beeper to notice.
Cursing, James pulled off the road. He was too upset to
manage the truck and the beeper at the same time. Knowing what he
would find, he was reluctant to check the device. He glanced
over at the young man beside him.
And looked away quickly as he noticed the tears, wanting to
leave the kid with some privacy.
The sky had grown dark with a sudden storm and James had to
turn on the overhead light to check the beeper.
The display simply contained the date and a time 18:00
Cursing some more, softly under his breath, he leaned back
against the seat.
"What?" Blair asked quietly when he didn't say anything.
"I've got a drop."
At Blair's confused look he explained.
"I have to round up the guys and get the team to the
briefing room in two hours for a mission."
"Where are you going?"
{What will I do while you're gone?}
"We've got a mission. I don't know how long I'll be gone,
but I want you to stay at the condo, for as log as you like." he
paused, hesitated, searching for the right words. "I hope you'll
still be here when I get back."
Blair hated the frightened note in his voice but couldn't
help it.
"What...what if you don't come back?" His hands clenched in
his lap.
James leaned over, making sure he had Blair's attention. For
the second time that day, he needed it so he could say something
important to this kid that was becoming so important to him.
"I'll be back." spoken in his best "Terminator" voice. It
brought brief smile to the kid's face as he remembered seeing
the movie together the weekend before.
Despite the joke, Blair heard the seriousness behind the
tone.
James believed that he would be back.
And he expected Blair to believe it to.
"I'll be here." his smile was shaky, but got stronger as the
older man continued to look at him.
Satisfied by what he saw in the younger man's face, James
pulled back out onto the road and drove Blair home.
***
"And in Iraq today, UN officials..."
Blair hit the 'last' key on the remote that took him to the
channel he'd been at before.
"With a death toll reaching the thousands..."
Click.
"But there are no realistic hopes for a peaceful..."
Click.
"The river literally clogged with..."
Click.
The ringing of the phone beside his ear put a temporary halt
to his misery-soaking pastime.
"Ellison's." he said quickly, hoping it was James, knowing
it wasn't.
"Is this Blair Sandburg?" a rough male tenor that he didn't
recognize.
"Uh, yeah, this is Blair." cautiously.
"This is Dr. Ross, down at County Memorial. Look, I'd like
you to come in and let me do a follow-up. You were a pretty sick
kid the last time I saw you, and I just wasn't to check you
over."
{Hmmm.} puzzled by the personal call, Blair hesitated.
"Well. yeah. that would be okay, I guess. There's, like,
nothing wrong, is there?"
"No, I just want to see you and ease my conscience a bit."
There was a pause where Blair didn't know what to say. Is
experience with organized medicine was sketchy, and he was pretty
sure this wasn't the way things were normally done.
"Can you make it in the morning? Just come into the ER and
ask for me, no appointment or anything like that."
"When?"
"Anytime before noon."
"I guess."
"I just need to check you over, okay?"
"Uh-huh.
"So I'll see you in the morning?" Ross carefully pushed for
a commitment.
"Yeah, I'll be there."
"Good." the sudden silence of disconnection startled Blair,
who had been expecting questions, at the least. But the doctor
had hung up, leaving him alone with the tv news and a killer
remote.
Sighing, he rose from the couch and turned the box off. He
didn't know where James had gone and watching this wasn't
going to let him figure it out.
He'd said he would be back, and that was enough.
It was already late. He hadn't been sleeping well, plagued
by dreams filled with half-formed images and unvoiced rejections.
Maybe a hot shower would help. Trudging up the stairs he entered
the bathroom grudgingly.
The hot water flowed over him.
It was hot enough to sting slightly in delicate places;
behind his knees, in his elbows, on the back of his neck.
And in his groin.
Closing his eyes, Blair leaned back against the wall and let
the water and heat surround him.
His mind was filled with the image of James, lying stretched
out on that rock on the mountain, his body taut and beautiful.
The stirring in his cock surprised him but, for once, he decided
to go with it.
This wasn't something he'd done more than once or twice to
find out what all the fuss was about. It had never been a big
deal.
Kind of messy and embarrassing, really.
But this time, when his right hand slid down and gently
circled his stiff cock, it leapt at the touch and he gasped.
{What the hell?}
A tentative stroke, and a ripple of something he couldn't
define rolled through him. He stopped, stunned.
{What was *that*?}
Trying it again, the sheer force of the pleasure that he
felt was frightening. He stopped again, opening his eyes to
banish James' form from imagination.
Washing quickly, he dried off and dressed in clean sweats
pilfered from James' dresser.
The dresser in James' room.
The room that held James' bed.
The bed Blair *wasn't* going to crawl into, no matter how
much he wanted to.
Feeling warmer but no less miserable, he went downstairs to
curl up in his nest on the couch.
He slept uneasily again, his mind trying to fit what had
happened in the shower into what he knew of himself.
***
"I'm here to see Dr. Ross?"
The man behind the counter didn't even glance at him, just
waved a pencil in the general direction of the waiting room.
"Take a seat."
"Um. He called me and said I was supposed to ask for him.
Can you at least tell him I'm here?" Blair stood his ground
deferentially.
The big man's head snapped up and he glared at the scruffy
kid that was challenging his authority.
"I said, take a seat. The doctor is a busy man."
The waiting room *was* crowded. But Blair knew from past
experience how these things worked.
He would take a seat and the guy would forget about him for
a couple of hours. Then somebody else might notice him and ask
what he was doing there, and he'd tell them.
Then he would wait a couple more hours while they argued
about who's responsibility it was to get him seen.
He had *no* intention of spending the day here.
"Dr.Ross called me at home --" he gulped here -- "And asked
me to come in this morning. He said to tell the man at the desk
and that you would tell him I'm here."
He paused, holding the clerk's eyes with his own, allowing a
bit of anger to show. "And I want you to tell him. Now."
Presented with this stubbornness, the man hefted himself from
his stool and turned away, whining.
"Everybody wants to be seen *now* Can't do what you tell
them to, *no*, they're all too good for that..." the voice faded
as he went through the steel double-doors.
Blair stood in front of the desk, waiting.
After what seemed like hours but was probably less than ten
minutes the clerk came out again, a tall, dark-haired man at his
shoulder.
A rueful grin crossed his face when he came around and stood
in front of Blair.
"You look better than the last time I saw you."
"Since I don't remember it at all, I'm not surprised." but
he was surprised by the feeling of warmth he was getting from
this man.
An almost tangible empathy.
His mother would like this guy.
"C'mon, I've got a room just for you."
Sitting on the examining table, Blair shed his shirt when
asked and breathed deeply, coughed.
Ross thumped his sternum, checked his eyes and ears and
palpated his belly, which made him squirm a little bit.
"Ticklish?" a knowing grin.
"A little." he sat back up, pulling his shirt over his head
and the doctor took the small stool, crouching on it like an
unexpectedly attractive gargoyle.
"Are you eating? You're pretty thin." Ross observed.
A long look, but Blair couldn't tell if he was implying
something or not.
"I don't do drugs, if that's what you're getting at."
"Never can tell." Ross shrugged. "Smart kid like you,
hitching in the middle of nowhere..."
"There a law against it?"
"Lt. Ellison is taking good care of you." another long look
that couldn't read the doctor's kind face.
"He's been great." pausing, Blair decided to bring it up. he
didn't want anyone thinking poorly of James. "You know he never
touched me, right? I mean, I guess I wouldn't have minded so
much..." he sighed deeply, unaware of how sad he suddenly
looked. "But he says I'm too young."
Ross smiled encouragingly.
"Well, good for him."
Looking up sharply, Blair's face was a study in confused
misery.
"It's not so good for me, man."
"I've got some time. Want to talk about it?" the doctor
leaned forward, hands dangling between his legs.
"Um....I guess."
He was relieved when the man waited, giving him time to
think about what he wanted to say.
"It's just, like...I never felt anything like this, y'know?"
"Like what?"
Unable to look at him, Blair studied his hands, twisting in
his lap like wrestling kittens.
"It's like, I'm thinking about him...all the time...and I
feel...*good*, somehow."
"An emotional good or a physical one?" the man knew exactly
the right questions to ask.
"Both. And it's wonderful, but it's scary...I don't know
what to do about it."
"Do what comes naturally." Ross grinned at him when he
looked up again at the words. "If you feel this strongly about
him and he cares enough to push you away for your own good, I'd
say you've got a start there."
"But...he won't, because I'm a kid..."
"Tell Lt. Ellison that seventeen is considered an adult in
this state, and then prove it to him." standing, the doc shoved
the stool away with a foot. It bounced lightly off the far wall.
Then he put a hand on Blair's shoulder and squeezed gently. "But
you have to be careful. You have to wear a condom, you know
that? Or he does?"
Blair gave a slow nod, but the doc shook his head.
"I want you to say it. I don't want you to be another kid
coming in here in two years or ten, dying because you fell in
love and didn't stop to think."
"I know." Blair said, hearing those words with a delicious
shiver. 'Fell in love.' {That's what this must *be*.}
The thought brought a huge smile to his face and Ross
couldn't help but grin back.
"What do you know?" he prompted.
"I have to wear a condom. Or he does." the previously
unthinkable words slipped right out, with no embarrassment at
all.
"Then I pronounce you cured. Get back to your life, Blair
Sandburg. And no more long walks in the rain." he opened the door
and gestured Blair out before him. "Good luck at school, I expect
you to make me proud."
Almost dizzy with relief and something close to joy, Blair
just threw him another blazing grin and got out of there, to find
someplace to think, where he could examine this wonderful secret
and enjoy it fully.
