The ride up to the cabin was uneventful. Jim drove; Blair read for a while, and talked for a while, and slept for a while.
His first few weeks of active duty had taken a lot out of him. They'd talked some, after the fact, about the magnitude of the choice Blair was making—*had* made—and Blair had insisted that he was fine, that the diss had been dead for ages, that he was glad to have it gone and not hanging over their friendship anyway...but Jim knew the transition couldn't have been easy. He was glad they were getting a weekend away.
It was Blair's idea. He'd been emailing back and forth with an old friend named Susan (former girlfriend, Jim wondered?) who was living in San Francisco; Susan had a cabin in northern California, two hours from Cascade. She'd invited Blair up for a three-day, and Blair had invited Jim.
"Are you sure you want company?" Jim had teased. Blair'd grinned at him. "Susan's taken," he'd said. "I don't want to be the third wheel."
"Oh, you want us both to be third wheels?" A laugh. "Yeah, sure," Jim had said. "Let's do it."
And Simon had agreed, and Friday morning they'd woken up early and packed their bags and hit the road. It was good to be driving, good to be out of Cascade.
It wasn't until after dinner that Jim started to feel awkward.
The cabin was, as promised, glorious; Susan had yanked Blair almost off his feet in a bear-hug as soon as she saw him; Susan's partner, whose name was Katie, had grinned and extended a hand to Jim.
They'd unloaded their bags in the spare room, Jim had avoided panic at the sight of the single queen-sized bed (We've shared a bed before, it's fine, I'll just sleep at the edge and I *won't touch him*), they'd hiked in the afternoon and eaten lavishly and well...
...and then Susan suggested a soak in the hot tub.
"I didn't bring my suit," Jim said.
Blair grinned. "Don't need one. Right, Susan?"
"Yeah, the tub stays cleaner when we go in it naked," Susan explained. "Nicer that way, too. Feels better."
*I'll bet,* Jim thought. God, did I piss You off somehow—is there a reason You're doing this to me?
"Great," he said.
When they lifted the cover Jim wrinkled his nose. "Um," Blair said, "are there chemicals in here?"
Susan looked up from where she was shedding her clothes. "Just some bromine."
Blair glanced at Jim, concerned. "Jim has chemical sensitivities."
"I'll be fine." I can dial it down, he thought. The steam feels nice. And it's obvious Sandburg wants to do this—I don't want to keep him from having fun.
Oh, give me a break, he thought. Who am I fooling. It's an excuse to look.
And it *was* an excuse; and he looked plenty. How could he not? The hot tub was, he had to admit, just about perfect, once he filtered out the bromine—and the bromine wasn't bad, no worse than the crap you find in city tap water, just stronger. Made his skin slightly sticky.
He hadn't been naked around more than one person since the army—and never around more than one woman—but it wasn't as weird as he'd expected.
Of course, Susan and Katie weren't paying him any mind; they seemed happy to talk with both him and Blair, but their eyes were on each other. Katie rubbed Susan's feet. Susan rubbed Katie's shoulders. And after a while they excused themselves, saying it had been a long day. "Stay in as long as you like," Susan said, wrapping herself in a towel. "See you boys in the morning."
And then they were alone.
If he thought about it, Jim could feel every tiny air bubble rising and clinging to his thighs. He could feel the water currents brush against his cock. He could feel the low vibrations of the hot tub's air pump beneath his spine.
He was trying not to think about it.
Jim was grateful for the strong bubbles stirring the surface of the water: they blurred things just enough that Blair couldn't possibly see his erection.
Of course, he could see Blair—but he was carefully not looking there.
"I like your friends, Chief," Jim said.
Blair smiled. "They're neat, huh? I haven't seen Susan in years."
There was a pause.
"I'm a little jealous of her, actually," Blair said.
"Who wouldn't be? This cabin's fantastic."
"No, not the cabin—California."
Jim felt his chest constrict. "You planning another career change?" he asked, hoping he sounded calm.
"What? No, no way—I like Cascade."
"Good." Relief.
"But it seems like Susan has it easier," Blair said.
"Easier how?"
Blair thought for a minute. "Maybe it's not California, maybe it's that Susan's a professor," he mused. "That's one thing Rainier had on the PD, man: it was easier to be alternative there."
Jim chuckled. "I dunno, you've managed to be pretty alternative at the PD, Sandburg. I never thought I'd see the day when Joel Taggart put sprouts on a sandwich."
"I never thought I'd see the day when *you* put sprouts on a sandwich," Blair fired back, and they were both grinning.
"What are you insinuating?"
"Hey, I'm the best thing that ever happened to you—you were headed for heart attack city before we met."
You *are* the best thing that's ever happened to me, Jim thought. Even if I can't have you.
"Seriously, Sandburg. You're pretty alternative. The guys don't mind."
Blair shook his head. "Nah. I mean, they're okay with some stuff—y'know, I can wear an earring, I can listen to weird music, I can cook weird food—but if I were Susan..."
His voice trailed off.
In Jim's mind, a light started to dawn. "You mean, you don't think they'd be okay with it if you were gay?"
"Hey, I date women, right?" Blair's laughter sounded forced.
No way am I letting you out of this one, buddy, Jim thought. "Okay, so if you were bi, you don't think they'd be okay with it."
Blair took a deep breath, let his shoulders relax, slumped further into the water. "No," he said finally. "I don't think so."
For a moment Jim was silent. "You don't know that for sure," he said.
"Yeah, but I'm not sure I could risk it. I mean, if I were. There's...friendship at stake."
Jim felt like there were two conversations going on: one about the station, and one about them. Or was that wishful thinking?
Some part of him was glad the conversation had become so fraught; all this thinking was forcing him into his brain, instead of his body, which meant his erection had subsided.
Slightly.
Jim chose his words carefully. "There's a lot to be said for friendship," he said. Blair gave no visible reaction: his eyes were closed, he was breathing steam. "But there's a lot to be said for honesty, too."
Blair opened his eyes. "Everything might get fucked up," he said.
"Or it might get even better." Jim held his breath unconsciously as Blair shifted, braced himself, sat up.
Blair was half-out of the water now, dark curls glistening, tiny bubbles popping on his skin. "All right," he said. "So say I'm bisexual, in a theoretical way: you're okay with that?"
Jim nodded. Damn, am I ever.
"But what if I wanted to...do something?"
Jim closed his eyes: this was torture. Was Blair talking about him? Was Blair talking about something else entirely? Was this whole conversation even happening? "For crying out loud, Sandburg," he rasped, "so *do* something!"
So Blair did.
The water was hot, but so was Blair. The bubbles were intoxicating, but so was Blair's mouth. And the stream of water across his sensitive cock was delicious, but it had nothing on the brush of Blair's erection against his.
In the water Blair was buoyant: he weighed almost nothing on Jim's lap, and after a while Jim pulled him down, wanting to feel the pressure of Blair against him. Blair sighed his pleasure into Jim's mouth.
Jim's hands were busy holding Blair down; Blair's hands were free to explore. Blair ran his fingers over Jim's chest, pausing to tease a nipple, and Jim broke the kiss, gasping. The water, the bubbles, were a million tiny hands inflaming his skin; he was catching fire under Blair's fingers.
"Feel good?" Blair asked, his voice low.
Jim groaned.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Blair murmured. "How many times I've sat with you on the sofa and imagined pushing you on your back and unzipping your pants and touching you," and he bent to bite gently at Jim's lip, and he rocked against Jim, and Jim was breathing hard. "Imagined what you'd taste like, what you'd feel like. Imagined sucking you," and one hand moved down to Jim's cock, freeing it from between them, and Blair's thumb was stroking the spot just beneath the head, and Jim choked "Blair—" and came.
Some minutes later Jim broke their kiss (when had they started kissing again?) and opened his eyes. He found Blair looking at him: a trace of nervousness, a lot of tenderness, a lot of desire.
Jim decided he wasn't quite ready to talk yet—so he lifted Blair off his lap and into the seat next to him, and moved between Blair's legs, kneeling in the deep center. He reached around Blair, then shifted him to the side and lifted his body an inch or two up, letting the water jet massage his ass. Blair gasped softly and his eyes darkened.
"Sometime when we're not in a hot tub," Jim said, his voice a little gravelly, "that's going to be my finger," and Blair flushed, his breath catching in his throat. "Or more than fingers, if you want."
"I want," Blair said, breathless.
"Yeah?" Jim asked, one hand moving to encircle Blair's cock.
"Ohh yeah," Blair managed, moving into Jim's hand.
"Good," Jim said. "Because *God* I want to be inside you," and Blair tensed, and bucked up, and bit his lip, and came.
The End