Out of the Blue by Mererid

Out of the Blue - Mererid


Note: WIP, the first in the Blue series.


It came out of the blue one day when Jim asked him, "Do you regret moving in here?"

As soon as Jim said, Blair knew why he had asked. Naomi had been visiting last week, and had gone on about Blair missing out on opportunities. She had never accepted him joining the police force, and cutting his hair. Well, his hair had grown out some, and he was working on a master's in Forensic science now. It hadn't seemed to help her any.

"No, Jim. I don't regret moving in here. Sometimes I think you regret letting me in." Blair had smiled a little but Jim looked so terribly serious. They were sitting on the couch, and it was a late Sunday afternoon. Chili was cooking in the crockpot, and Jim was going to make jalapeno cornbread to go with it later.

"Nah." Jim shook his head, closing the non-fiction novel he had been reading. It was written by a buddy of his from his military days. "It was hard at first, but now-." He shrugged. He didn't say anything more for a while, and the silence bugged Blair.

"But now?" Blair finally prodded, having set his reading material aside. He was at the far end of the couch, legs pulled up, hair loose, and he hadn't bothered to shave this morning. It had been a quiet, relaxed day. They hadn't gone out of the loft all day, and it had been great. "But now what?"

Jim shrugged. "I'm not sorry."

Blair took a slow, deep breath. "When was the last time you went on a date?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He set the book on the coffee table, and stood.

"Where are you going?" Blair asked him with a hint of annoyance.

"Thought I'd start on the corn bread." Jim replied, glancing at him quickly.

"Sit." Blair growled, pointing at the indentation on the couch where Jim had just been sitting.

"Blair." Jim's jaw clenched.

"Okay, fine." Blair sighed, shaking his head. "Run, be free."

When Jim walked by, he reached over and tugged on a handful of Blair's hair. The conversation was not continued, and the subject left alone.

That night Blair dreamt about the panther sleeping at the foot of his bed. When he woke up in the morning, the room smelled faintly of Jim, though there was no sign of the other man.

At work on Tuesday, they had been called out to a remote location to investigate a possible serial killer dumpsite. Blair, tromping around without Jim, had fallen into an abandoned well and discovered a few decomposed bodies. The incident had scared the shit out of both of them, though Blair only sustained a few scrapes and bruises, a pulled muscle in his back.

Jim went with Blair to the hospital, not letting the young man out of his sight. That was a bit of a problem for the doctors, but they managed. In between muscle relaxants and a pain killer, Blair dreamt of the panther again, guarding him. He wasn't surprised to find Jim dosing in the chair next to his bed when he woke up in the middle of the night.

He just said, "Help me up, I gotta pee." So Jim did.

When he went back to bed, he started up the stairs to the loft bedroom. Jim hesitated, not certain he should follow.

"If I fall, you damn well better catch me." Blair grumbled. Jim hurried up behind him.

Blair settled under the covers in the middle of Jim's bed. Jim sat on the edge of the bed watching.

"Gods, man, lay down. Sharing a bed with me won't make you queer." Blair said with annoyance.

"I think I am queer." Jim spoke in a low tone of voice. He hadn't lain down yet.

"If I wasn't so groggy, I'd give you one of my lectures." He mumbled into the pillow.

"I know." Jim almost smiled. "Maybe later."

"Yeah." Blair yawned, and dosed for a while. He drifted towards consciousness feeling warm and safe. A hard body, long and lean and well-muscled, was snuggled up along his backside. Yeah, later. They'd discuss why Jim thought he was gay now. They could discuss regrets and hopes and maybe, just maybe, how they wanted to progress. He'd think up an approach later, for now, he was content to enjoy the warmth and presence of his companion.

The end

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Notes: Written for dues on the Hurt Comfort List, and for Pattrose.