Just Us by lamardeuse

~for Kass~

"Jesus, James, what do you think you're—"

The remaining words were cut off as Blair was shoved bodily into a supply closet down the hall from Major Crimes. Jim had had a burr up his ass ever since they'd foiled an armed robbery earlier that morning. Between the trip to the hospital and all of the other cop rigamarole, they hadn't had a chance to be alone.

Apparently Jim had come up with his own remedy to that problem.

Pitch darkness surrounded Blair like a smothering blanket. "Hey, you want to turn on the light?"

"Don't need to," was the terse reply. "I can see you just fine."

"Real funny, Jim," Blair muttered. He reached out with his left hand for the place where he thought the light switch might be—

—only to have his hand engulfed by Jim's. The fingers slithered over his, then gripped his wrist.

"What—"

Jim tugged at Blair's arm, jerking him forward, and Blair stumbled willingly into the solid wall of Jim's body. Through Jim's thin shirt, Blair could feel the heat of Jim's chest, the shift of his ribcage as he breathed.

"What did you think you were doing?" Jim whispered harshly. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Blair looked up at Jim's face, or at least the place where he figured Jim's face was. He didn't have to ask what Jim was talking about.

"Being your partner," he answered simply.

When Blair felt the touch of Jim's other hand, it was so gentle as to be barely perceptible. Blair shivered.

Jim sensed the movement. "Hurts?"

"No," Blair said truthfully. The dressing wasn't much bigger than a Band-Aid; the robber's bullet had barely drawn blood as it grazed the flesh of his right bicep. Still, at the time it had hurt like a sonofabitch.

He shivered again at the memory of Jim's animal howl when Blair went down.

"Don't ever do that again," Jim was saying.

"We're both cops now," Blair countered. "You can't make me stay in the truck."

"Dammit, I'm not saying you—" Jim took a deep, calming breath. "Just—I don't want you taking a bullet for me."

"I'm going to try not to. But I can't say for sure that it'll never happen."

"Blair, goddammit—"

"You would for me."

Another deep breath. Sounds were beginning to amplify in Blair's ears. "I want you to promise me."

Blair shook his head, knowing Jim would see it.

"Promise me." A growl.

"I can't, Jim. You know I can't."

Suddenly, he was being shoved back and away. His back hit the door with a resounding thud.

"You—"

Jim's mouth silenced him right before Jim's hands reached for the buttons of his shirt. Blair leaned into the kiss, opening himself to the onslaught.

Because when Jim got like this, the only way to weather the storm was to walk right out into the middle of it and dare the lightning to strike.

Within seconds Blair was panting and trembling and well on his way to being naked—or rather just naked enough. Jim's lips and teeth and tongue mapped Blair's body, gliding over his collarbone, tasting a nipple, seeking purchase in the taut flesh of his stomach. He heard a small noise and realized Jim's overeager fingers were fumbling over the belt of his jeans; he stilled Jim's hands with his own and set about the task.

He felt Jim's hot breath on the exposed skin of his cock and every nerve ending in his body sang with the realization that he was here, that he was alive, that Jim was whole and real and his, and for about the millionth time it occurred to him that he was so fucking grateful for every minute, every second of this.

When Jim swallowed him down, Blair braced himself against the door, his hands stroking through the incredible softness of Jim's hair, his lips mouthing near-silent secrets that only his lover would hear.

No promises, Blair told him. Just us.

End

May 2004