"I'm doing this all wrong, man," Blair sighed as he dropped his armload of books on the table by the door, grabbing for the top two that escaped the pile and tried to crash to the floor.

I watched him from the kitchen, looking at him skeptically from the stove where I was putting together a stir-fry in the hopes that he'd eventually make it home. "Yeah -- I think you forgot the part where you put the books in the backpack, Chief."

"Ha ha." Having straightened the pile, Blair slid his backpack off his shoulder and dropped it with a theatrical thunk. "It was too full. Just like my day, my week, my life." Crossing to the sofa, he threw himself down with an equally theatrical groan.

"Burning the candle at both ends, are we?" Forget the ends, he's just melting down the whole candle at once lately. I was worried about him, but somehow what came out of my mouth was a snide remark anyway.

"We? Ha some more. You are a cop. I've suddenly got so many hats I could open a shop." He exhaled heavily, then popped up off the sofa again. "Gotta grab a shower. Ugh." It always amazed me how he could always summon up just a touch more energy, even when it looked like he was on the verge of collapse.

By the time he re-emerged, I was setting two plates of the chicken stir-fry on the table. I was happy he'd actually come home in time for me to make sure he had something to eat.

"Sit down, Chief," I commanded.

"God, that smells so good..."

"Have you eaten today?" I certainly hadn't seen him do it.

"I... I don't know... I think I might have missed lunch, between my 10:00 lecture, a surprise meeting with the department head, my office hours..."

Predictably, he didn't mention the time that he gave to me... more time, I knew, than he really had to give, more time than I should really take -- I wasn't about to relinquish any of it, but I could at least acknowledge it for once. "And meeting me at the Ballard scene, then going back to the station to go over the forensics report on the Drummond case, and watch Rafe question McDonough."

"That was no problem -- but since I had to run to meet with that 4:00 study group --"

"-- which you started --"

"-- and then catch my 6:00 seminar, I didn't have a chance to pick up any food, and then I had to get these books that Lisa was holding for me at the library for that article that's due Tuesday --"

" -- and to research some issues raised by your study group, if past experience is anything to go by --"

" -- yeah, well..."

"Eat your dinner, Blair."

He looked at me, seemingly startled, then breathed in slowly and raised his fork.

"Thanks, Jim," he said after several quick bites.

"Don't even think about getting up." I might have let the kid go hungry all day, but I wasn't about to watch him starve himself when the food was right there, just to do more work for other people.

"I... I'm not." Blair sighed again.

"You're going to burn yourself out, Chief. You've got too much going on."

Blair gave a short and rather humorless laugh. "Like I said, I'm doing it wrong. I keep adding more and more jobs that take a lot of time and don't pay anything. That's backwards -- I should be trying to find myself a nice gig where I can just lay back and be kept in style. Find myself some cushy sinecure, all pay and no work, instead of this big stack of all work and no pay deals I've got going."

Everything seemed to freeze for a minute with a sudden ferocious amount of tension. I knew he didn't mean it, but I wasn't sure he really knew he didn't. Still... the thought was always lurking in the back of my mind that he would decide that his time and energy would be better spent elsewhere, and he would leave. That thought always knotted my gut when it surfaced.

But even so, the idea of Blair as a pampered pet, while appealing in one sense, was just so damned funny that I couldn't help but laugh. He must have recognized the humor as well, because we were laughing in unison, the tension gone as quickly as it had come.

"You're already a kept man, Sandburg -- rent is for other people, right?"

"But of course! And leisure, well, it's overrated -- I don't need to read detective novels, I can live them!" he joked.

Blair attacked his dinner with renewed vigor, and soon I got up to clear the table. As I reached for his plate, Blair put his hand on my arm to stop me.

"Jim? I didn't mean it, you know."

"Of course you didn't, Chief."

"I'm really not looking for a free ride -- I'm not like that, not really." He looked at me with big, sad eyes.

"Of course you're not. You help people, Blair -- that's who you are."

"I just get... tired sometimes."

"You can't save the whole world all on the same day, you know? You're taking so much on that if you don't back off at least a little, you won't be helping anybody before long."

I patted the hand that still lightly held my forearm, then slipped out of Blair's grasp and picked up the plate. I could feel him watch me as I headed into the kitchen with the dishes.

"You need to tell me no more often when I load stuff on you," I said over my shoulder. Just because I didn't want him to didn't mean I couldn't see what was right.

"No, man, not to you. It's the idiots at Rainier that I've got to put my foot down with."

He picked up his empty glass as I got back to the table, but I took it from his hand. "Sit down before you fall down, Chief. I've got the dishes -- rest for a minute and then I've got some mangoes that I picked up on special at the organic market on the way home."

He looked at me long and hard before he headed over to the couch. I know he must have thought I was losing my mind... but it wasn't the potential loss of my mind that had me solicitous, it was the potential loss of my partner.

We'd been facing all sorts of dangers since we started out together, from the very beginning. I thought about it, sure, thought about the fact that I was dragging him into something that he wasn't really prepared for and which was responsible for getting him kidnapped and drugged and shot... thought about it and felt guilty and did it anyway.

But somehow this latest adventure, which he stumbled into all by himself rather than getting shoved into it by me, well... it just pushed me over the edge somehow.

I'd already come to terms with the fact that I was in love with him, something that I never thought I would find with a guy and in fact didn't think I would find period. The torment of listening to him help everyone else in that elevator, being strong and resourceful and brave for them, but then looking to me to come through for him -- which I failed to do -- well, it was excruciating. He saved himself, and saved all those people...

It's what he spends his life trying to do, save people -- from going above and beyond the call with extra help for a student who was struggling academically to rescuing people from madmen with bombs to devoting a huge hunk of his life to making my life livable.

Not that he's a perfect angel or anything... he can be an annoying little bastard, always pushing, always sure he's right... but still, like Cher said in that movie he made me watch the other night, "I love him awful."

Once I got over the initial shock of the whole Galileo incident, I told myself that I was going to have to do a better job on the Blessed Protector front -- he deserved it, and I really don't know that I could handle it if something happened to him, whether because of me or not.

Of course, old habits are hard to break, and I've found myself being an ill-tempered asshole sometimes despite my best intentions. But I'm trying -- and besides, I can be an asshole and still keep an eye on my partner.

I finished cleaning up and began to fix the mangoes. Pre-Sandburg I couldn't have told you a mango from an avocado, but he's taught me how to score the fruit and sort of turn it inside out and "presto! you're on a beach in the Caribbean being waited on by tropical beauties with not a rain cloud in sight!" Well, I'm hardly a tropical beauty, but it wouldn't kill me to wait on him for once.

As I brought the plates, forks, and napkins to the coffee table, I saw that his eyes were closed, though I doubted he was really asleep. Setting the fruit down, I put a hand on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes and looked at me, only a little groggy. "Hey."

"I brought you the mangoes," I told him unnecessarily. I couldn't seem to take my eyes off him tonight, and curiosity crept into his face as he watched me watch him, but he finally looked from me to the orange cubes of mango, and picked up a plate.

"Mmm, thanks, man," he said as he speared a piece of the fruit and popped it into his mouth.

I sat down on the sofa with my own plate, but I didn't touch the contents, mesmerized by the sight of Blair, more relaxed than he'd been in days, savoring the flavor of the ripe fruit.

It was an amazingly sensual experience for me, even without eating the fruit myself... watching the brightly colored flesh of the fruit sliding over Blair's lips, catching glimpses of his tongue as he ate, seeing his obvious enjoyment in the experience... reveling in the little "mmm"s of appreciation that he made as he chewed... breathing deeply of the fragrance of the fruit, which really did make me think of sun and sand and sea somewhere in the back of my mind...

The juice started to run down his chin and he caught it with the back of the hand that was holding the fork. When he licked the sweet juice from his hand before reaching for another bite of mango, I must have made a sound, as he suddenly looked at me. As I helplessly imagined what it would feel like, taste like, to be the one cleaning up that juice, his curiosity was back in full force.

Some small part of me was wondering why my "surly bastard" persona wasn't surfacing reflexively, and instead my pathetically lust-fogged and lovelorn soft side was hanging out. But mostly I was just trapped like the proverbial deer in the headlights as he looked carefully at me, obviously trying to get in my head. Can you get drunk on mango fumes?

"Thanks for looking after me," he finally said.

It was as if all my protective instincts that had been focused on myself since I was small had suddenly shifted to Blair, so while I thought of several things to say that would deflect his scrutiny, what actually came out was, "You look after me too."

I could see him ponder this for a time. He took another bite of mango. I just waited. The whole vibe of the evening had changed over a plate of fruit, and I really didn't understand it, but I was willing to let him take this wherever he wanted.

Suddenly I could see some light bulb go on in him, some connection made, a decision reached. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath, but I let it out at the look on his face.

"I'm reminded of when I first moved in here. I made you breakfast. You called it a courtship ritual."

A rush of adrenaline went through me at that. He knows, I thought, and couldn't for the life of me think what the right thing to do was -- couldn't really think at all, beyond that one overriding thought.

"Are you courting me, Jim?" Though he was smiling, I could tell that it wasn't the smile I would have gotten if he were laughing at me... or if he didn't already know the answer to his question.

I couldn't bring myself to say what we both knew, but I smiled. It wasn't much of a smile, just a small little thing, but apparently it was enough. He put the plate back on the table, and reached out with just one juice-slick finger and touched the smile on my lips.

It was amazing how intimate such a small gesture felt. I opened my mouth just a bit and captured that fingertip, sucking lightly... the combination of mango and Blair sent a shudder through me, I'll admit it.

He pulled his finger back, running it quickly over my lower lip before setting both his hands in his lap, the picture of calm serenity.

"OK," he said.

"What?"

"Courtship -- the period in which a human or animal seeks to gain the attention, affection, and commitment of a mate. So, consider the courtship over -- I think we're both to the point that we've got those things from each other."

"Are you saying..."

Suddenly the somewhat serious look was gone and he was grinning from ear to ear.

"I think we're married, man. Or engaged, at least."

"Oh yeah?"

"Well, let me double check. I love you, you love me. Check?"

"Um... OK."

"We live together, eat together, work together, play together, feed each other fresh produce. Check?"

"Check."

"We're about to add sleeping together to the list. Check?"

The trace of vulnerability in his voice would have gone unnoticed by anybody else, but I heard it. "Check," I agreed, and squeezed his thigh.

"So, I think that about covers it, don't you?"

"Well... I can't help but think that maybe there's just a little bit more to talk about, but I do like your way of thinking." It was nice to be able to speak complete sentences again.

"You're probably right, and under normal circumstances, I'd be the first to agree with the whole talking thing. But right now, with that look on your face, well, I don't think I can pause long for the chat before I jump you."

Knowing that Blair really cares about me isn't much of a surprise. Hearing him talk about wanting me, that's a whole different story. Suddenly my stomach felt full of butterflies, like a teenager finally seeing some hope of getting past hand-holding and into the big leagues. I sat stock-still as he leaned toward me.

"I just feel... driven. Driven to taste you..."

'Taste' was an understatement -- suddenly he was devouring me and the swirl of sensations made me feel almost light-headed as he explored every corner of my mouth. I wasn't exactly passive, but I was happy to let him control the kiss. He tasted of mango underlaid with ginger from the stir-fry, but mainly he tasted of Blair.

Eventually we pulled apart and looked at one another.

"So, you want to talk?" he asked, his voice unsteady but with a definite edge of humor to it.

I knew he expected me to say "To hell with talking!" or just say nothing and go back for more of his incredible mouth, but I understood what he meant about feeling driven, and I didn't want that feeling of incredible urgency and inevitability that we shared to lead us into something we were going to regret in the morning. So I surprised him.

"Yeah, I do, Chief."

"What?" His eyes looked like they were having a hard time focusing on my face.

"I'm afraid this was just a little too easy, Blair, and I need to make sure that this is what is right for us."

"Easy?! Hell, Jim, where have you been for the last couple of years? It's been a long and tough road to get to this point, but we're finally here -- why can't you just enjoy it?" He reached for the top button on my shirt, and looked disgruntled when I caught his hand between my hands and held on.

"Because I want to make sure that we still feel this way tomorrow, Blair. Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Jesus, man, of course I'm sure! Don't I seem sure?" He slipped his hand out of mine, grabbed my right hand, and pressed it to his erection, hard and hot in his jeans.

It was so tempting to throw caution to the wind and just go for it, but I loved him too much for that. He had never shown any signs of interest in a man that I had seen in the couple of years we'd been together, and I was beginning to fear that this tremendous need that had flared up between us was some sort of Sentinel thing and not just love and lust.

"Oh yeah," I managed to get out. "But Blair... how new is this?"

"New? Hardly... I've wanted you forever, man. And... I've never been precisely straight. I know what I'm doing."

I was a little startled by the primitive fury that flashed through me at the idea of him being with another man, someone else touching him the way I intended to. I tamped it down, knowing it was unreasonable, but in its wake I found I was much less inclined to talk.

"What about you, Jim?" He seemed unfazed by my scowl.

"Yeah, 'not precisely straight,' that works." And this time I initiated the kiss.

"You taste so good," I said helplessly when we pulled apart for air.

"Come on, Jim, upstairs."

"Your room is right there." I tried not to whine, but we'd delayed this for so long that now that we'd finally gotten there, I didn't think I could wait another 10 seconds before we both spontaneously combusted.

"My bed is too small. Besides, do you have any idea how long I've wanted to go up those stairs with you? Move."

Like I can deny him anything.

I half expected things to get... strange. I mean, I could hardly get my mind around the idea that we were really up here, that he was really looking at me like I was an even juicier treat than the mango had been, that he was stripping his clothes and throwing them haphazardly, never taking his eyes off me... but if my mind was having a hard time catching up, my body had plans of its own.

The taste of him lingered on my lips, tantalized my tongue, and I had to get more -- not just his mouth, but whatever I could reach. I shucked my clothes with remarkable efficiency and then somehow we were tangled together on my bed, stroking and licking and practically wrestling in our need to experience each other, as much and as quickly as possible.

His skin was cool against mine, but warming rapidly as our movements became more coordinated, rubbing against one another, chest to chest, groin to groin. I loved the strength of him, his hard body giving back as good as it got...

"I want you inside me," he told me in no uncertain terms.

"God, Chief..." The thought electrified me, but I didn't want to move too fast. We'd been building up to this since day one, but that didn't mean we needed to catch up all at once.

"Lube?" He cast an eye toward my bedside table.

"Yeah," I answered, then realized he'd tricked me. Too late -- he already had the tube and a condom in hand.

"Blair, we could just --"

"Jim. Fuck me." Oh god...

He handed me the supplies and lay down, legs spread invitingly. OK, one battle lost...

"Turn over?" I suggested.

"No, Jim, this way," he countered.

"It will be easier that way."

"It will be fine this way -- besides, I want to see you while you fuck me." We both moaned at those words, and when he bent his knees and pulled his legs back, I knew I'd lost that battle as well.

Not that I was complaining, not really. The sight of his ass, spread open for me in invitation, was enough to overcome any lingering resistance.

I took my time preparing him -- more time than he would have liked, judging by the way he tried to push against my fingers and made all sorts of frustrated sounds and "hurry up"s and "OK, OK"s. But I wasn't going to risk him.

"I'm ready already -- I need you, Jim!" he cajoled.

I couldn't resist those words, so after a brief pause to pull on a condom and slick myself well, I pulled his legs onto my shoulders and slowly began to push inside. I felt scalded by the unimaginable heat and pressure of him, the feeling spreading quickly from our point of connection through my whole body.

I was determined not to rush things, and I slowly rocked my way deeper inside. With his legs up over my shoulders, he couldn't get enough leverage to speed things up too much, though he tried.

Finally I was fully sheathed inside him, and I stayed suspended there for a moment, savoring the feeling, knowing nothing would ever be the same again. But Blair would not be denied -- a leisurely love-making was not what he was after, and he made sure I knew it.

I began to move, slowly, drawing out the sensations almost unbearably... on the one hand wanting desperately just to let loose and drive into him blindly, but on the other needing even more to protect him, even from myself.

"Faster, man," he ground out. "Harder!"

"No..."

"Come on, Jim, I need it! Move!"

"I can't hurt you, Blair, I just can't!"

"So you won't. I know you're just trying to look out for me, Jim, but you aren't going to hurt me, I know it. You wouldn't -- and I'm not that fragile anyway."

"I know you haven't been with a guy in years, Chief -- I was paying attention. I need to take it slow."

"You're right that I haven't been with a man since I met you -- too much like cheating. But... I've, um... stayed in practice, always thinking about you, wanting you..."

I'm sure he knew that there was no way in hell that I could hold myself in check after he painted me the image of himself, spread out on his futon downstairs, wanton and gorgeous, fucking himself with a toy to thoughts of me... and of course he was right.

Right that I would let go and give us what we both wanted, hard and fast and necessary, and right that I wouldn't hurt him for all that I felt like a wild thing, out of control and obsessed with the feel of him beneath me and around me and a part of me. It was that very obsession that would have told me instantly if I had hurt him, just as he said. That "always right" thing comes in handy sometimes.

I tried to make it last, but there was no way it could. As I pounded into his welcoming heat, I managed to snake a hand between us and grab his cock, no finesse whatsoever but it hardly mattered. He leaned up and bit my nipple, growling as he did so, and with one final slam home I spilled inside him, screaming his name as I felt his come hit my belly and my chest, unneeded proof that he had claimed me as thoroughly as I had claimed him, finally.

And that's how I came to be lying here, wrapped tightly around him as the sun begins to brighten the loft, listening to the steady beat of his heart and finally close enough to be able to feel it as if it were my own. It's not going to be an easy ride, but that's not what either of us are looking for. It will be alright, though, because we're saving each other.