New TS fic - Night 'verse

[castalie]

I'll talk about my Awesome Weekend of Awesomeness later but I got my TS fic back so I'm posting it now.

Title: My Way Home is Through You
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Rating: R
Word Count: 10,800+
Warnings: Talks about child abuse - hints only - as well as physical abuse and underage sex.
Summary: Five resolutions Blair made in his life.
Story Notes: Set in my Night 'verse, an AU series where Blair is a prostitute and Jim isn't a cop. They are together, though. Then again, what universe would that be if they weren't, right? A quick reference to Even Trade is made in this new installment, but you don't need to read it to understand the story.

Thank you to both turps33 and starwatcher307 for the encouragements and help. What would I do without you?

---

"She won't call, Blair."

Blair looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, Indian style. "But she said."

"Is that what you heard?"

Blair frowned. He wasn't sure he understood the question. I'll call you, sweetie, that's what Naomi had said when she'd left. He remembered. He nodded.

"And you're going to stay here till she does?"

"Yes."

"Then you're gonna wait a long time, kiddo. She won't call."

"She will."

"Suit yourself." And Joey left him without a backward glance.

Blair watched him go and shifted a little. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting close to the phone, but his legs were starting to fall asleep. He stood up and winced as needles coursed through his legs.

He reached out a hand toward the phone and picked it up, listening quickly to see if it was still working. He had to hurry, though, because if Naomi called when he did that, he'd miss the call and then he would never know that she'd called him. He replaced the receiver and stepped back.

Turning on his heels, he walked toward the ratty but comfortable armchair under the big window. He climbed on it and knelt on the seat, facing the window. He glanced at the phone another time before resting his cheek on the seat-back, looking outside.

It was sunny and hot today and he could see the other kids playing in the little pond. He wanted to join them, but he had something important to do. He needed to stay and wait for Naomi to call, and then he would tell her he didn't like it here and that she needed to come and pick him up. And when she did, they would be together again and maybe Naomi would let him stay with her for awhile.

He just needed her to call. And then everything would be okay. He rubbed his eyes on his arm; they were stinging.

Turning around, he plucked down on his seat. He was bored. He hopped down from the armchair and knelt on the floor, picking up his backpack, the one Naomi had offered him when he became a big boy. He could put whatever he wanted inside; she wouldn't even look. It was his own, and Blair loved it. He didn't have many things to call his own, so that was very cool.

Rummaging inside, he found the book he was looking for, sat back, and leaned against the armchair. He curled a little on himself and opened the book at the page he'd remembered to mark.

For once, he'd picked a book because of the pictures. He wasn't a little kid anymore, he didn't need pictures, but these pictures were different. They showed landscapes of other countries and it was so cool!

He wanted to go everywhere and visit those places and he would have a lot of fun. He would go with Naomi, though, he wouldn't leave her behind. No. Especially if he knew she would stay with people who looked at her funny and talked to her in a bad way. He would never do that. And even if he did, he would call her to make sure everything was all right. That's what he would do.

So he would take her with him and they would go away, far away, and it would be just the two of them and it would be good. Because Naomi loved him and she would want to stay with him. And even if he didn't have a dad or a sister or a brother, they would be a family and she would kiss him goodnight and it would never hurt and he wouldn't be afraid of the dark. Nothing would be scary. Ever.

Except, she hadn't called yet. And he didn't know when she would come back... but she would come back. She would take him away. Joey didn't know anything.

Naomi always told Blair they didn't need anyone else to be happy, and it was true. Blair didn't need anyone else. Just Naomi. When he was little, he'd realized that most children had both a mom and a dad and they usually all lived in the same house together. Just them; mom, dad and the kids.

And quite often a dog, too, he'd noticed. When he'd asked about where his own daddy was and why they weren't living with him in a house and if they did one day, could he please have a dog too, Naomi had told him that he didn't need a daddy, that the world was their home and that no-one should have the right to own another living creature.

Blair had sulked about the dog, but not for long, because Naomi didn't like 'negative thoughts that polluted your spirit'. Still, Blair would have loved a dog of his own. And a daddy.

Naomi's answer was always about how diversity was the spice of life and that a family was what you made of it. When Blair hadn't understood what it meant, she'd explained that a family could be like a prison and that the best way to be free and happy was to create your own family, one you chose yourself, one you could change or leave if you needed it, so that nothing ever restrained you and made you lose your freedom.

Right now, Blair didn't want freedom. He wasn't even sure what that meant. Well, he thought maybe freedom meant that he and the other children could go to bed whenever they wanted and no-one would tell them anything or that if they wanted to play in the pond, they could? But he didn't care about any of that. All he cared about was that Naomi was supposed to call him.

So he stayed near the phone. And waited. Like he'd done the day before. And the day before that.

And if she really didn't call, he would go and find her. He'd read books about Native Americans and how they tracked things; he was sure he could be a good scout himself. And he would look at the stars to find his way, just like he'd seen people do on TV. And he would take some bread and fruit from the kitchen before he left. And then he would find food on his own. Because he was resourceful, that's what Naomi always said about him.

But he would prefer if Naomi called first.

Footsteps in the hall made him turn his head toward the door. Noah was here. Blair gave him a little wave. Noah waved back.

"The other munchkins were looking for you, Hannah especially. Joey told me you were here. Still waiting, I see? You're a stubborn son of a bitch, I'll give you that."

Blair frowned at the bad words.

"Come on, little man, I thought we were all having fun here, huh. Why don't you come out?"

Blair shrugged.

"Hmm, not talking much today. Interesting. Did the cat get your tongue? Did it hurt?"

"No, silly," Blair giggled. Noah was funny.

"Oh, it speaks!" Noah walked toward Blair and squatted in front of him.

"Come on, kiddo, I'm sure she'll call, okay? Just maybe not today."

"That's what you said yesterday," Blair felt obliged to tell him.

"Yeah. Well. Even smart guys like me can get it wrong sometimes."

Too quickly for Blair to see it coming, Noah had him in his arms and was tickling him. Blair squealed and tried to grab his fingers and then Noah stopped. But he still kept Blair in his arms, he even hugged him. Blair knew he was a big boy now but he liked Noah, and he liked it when he hugged him; Noah's hugs never hurt.

Then Noah put him back down. "Come on, dude, Hannah will be heartbroken if you don't come and play with her. Suse is resting in the living room; I'm sure if Naomi calls, she'll let you know. Would that be okay?"

Blair thought it over. In truth, he was starting to believe that maybe Naomi wouldn't call, after all. So he shrugged.

He squatted and put his book back in his backpack, made sure everything was still inside, and then he looked up at Noah and crooked his fingers so that Noah would know he wanted to tell him something secret.

Noah bent over.

Blair looked behind Noah's back to make sure no-one was here and could hear him.

"I think maybe she forgot," he whispered.

"To call?" Noah whispered back.

"Me."

Noah was going to say something, Blair knew because he'd opened his mouth, but then he closed it and he didn't say anything. He straightened and then put his hand on Blair's head.

"She will call, okay? I know her. Just be patient, is all. Come on, enough dark thoughts for the afternoon. Just try to be a little kid, just for a couple hours, uh?"

"I'm not a little kid!"

"Right. Sorry. Will you join me, Sir?"

And Blair giggled again. Noah was silly. He followed him outside and didn't look at the phone a single time. He was sure it wouldn't ring for him.

Resolution 1: Stop waiting for Naomi to call. Stop waiting for her to come.

---

"Come on, Blair. Just this once."

Blair didn't answer. He got out of bed and, unable to find his underwear right away, just grabbed the first pair of jeans lying on a chair and pulled them on. Still silent, he also reached for a shirt and a sweatshirt. He hadn't been cold just a minute ago, but it was slowly creeping over him.

He'd thought - hoped - that they were finished with this particular topic. They'd talked about it all week and he was tired of it. Their last 'conversation' about the issue had left them both tense and exhausted but, at least, Blair thought he'd made his point. Apparently, he was mistaken.

"Did you hear me?" Sean had followed Blair's lead and also gotten dressed. To a casual observer, he was just sitting on the bed, patiently waiting for an answer, but Blair knew him well enough to see through the façade. Sean was just trying to appear calm and appeasing.

"I said, did you hear me?"

Blair shook himself out of his reverie and focused on his lover. Sean's tone was already becoming sharper; he never liked to repeat himself.

"I heard you," he said simply.

"So? What do you say?"

"I don't know, man. I just - I'm not sure I can -"

"Can what?" Sean cut him off, standing up. "I'm only asking you to help me. Do me a favor."

"I know, Sean, I know." But did he? This was... this wasn't just a friend helping out a friend... a lover helping out a lover. It was...

"Look, this is just a bit weird, okay? I'm sure we can find another solution."

"We can't!" Sean snapped. "There isn't. There was no other solution when I asked the first time, and there's still none now. Do you think I would ask you this if there was?"

Blair shook his head because he knew that Sean expected a reaction. And he knew Sean meant it. Sure, his lover was many things, but he wouldn't ask him something like that if he had any other choice. He wouldn't. Yeah, he was demanding and he roughed Blair up sometimes, but it was never more than Blair could handle; that was just how things were between them.

"See?" Sean said firmly. "You know my back is against the wall, here. And I can't ask anyone else. You're the only one who can help me." Sean came to him and brushed his lips against Blair's. "Please, do it for me. You're not afraid, are you?"

"No," Blair said softly.

"Because there's no reason to be afraid, baby. Okay?"

"Okay." Blair closed his eyes when he felt Sean nuzzle his face. He didn't flinch when Sean's lips touched the bruise on his cheek, the one that had ended their conversation about the issue the night before. It was nothing, just a little slap. Tomorrow there would be no trace left.

"That's my good boy." Sean was smiling again. "We're just talking about this one time. Our debt will be settled and we won't talk about it anymore, you'll see. You don't want me to be in trouble with Jason and his gang, do you?"

"Of course not." Blair never understood why Sean persisted in socializing with them; he was sure they were dangerous, that Sean was playing with fire. But each time he broached the topic, they would argue again. So he'd just learned not to bring up the issue anymore.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down." Sean caressed Blair's cheek with his knuckles. "I love you so much. No-one loves you the way I do, you know that?"

Blair nodded.

"It's just sex, really. You like sex, don't you?" Sean asked, obviously satisfied now that he thought he'd gotten what he wanted.

Sean's hands roamed under Blair's shirt, settling at the small of his back. His fingers crept inside the waistline of his jeans and he stroked the warm skin teasingly.

"Of course you do. You're such a little slut for it." He bent his head down and coaxed Blair's mouth open. His tongue brushed against Blair's, mapping the inside of his mouth. One of his legs came between Blair's and he pushed up, then thrust once. Blair's hand gripped his biceps.

"You might even like it, who knows? It's not that different from me and Mickey fucking you, right? You liked it when we did it, didn't you? You didn't know him, either, but it didn't bother you that much when you had his dick in your mouth. You were so eager for it, don't deny it."

Blair was trying to focus on Sean's touch and not on his words. The only reason he'd said yes to Mickey fucking him with Sean was because he'd wanted to please Sean, nothing else. No, they hadn't hurt him, not really, but it had felt weird. It'd also revived some memories he preferred to avoid.

But Sean couldn't seem to understand. Mentioning it to him would have brought a lecture on 'open-mindedness' and his 'youth' and he hated the thought that Sean could still see him as a kid. He was fifteen, yes, but he wasn't a child... So he'd kept his mouth shut. Or, more accurately, open to Mickey's dick.

Blair leaned into Sean's touch and hid his face against the crook of his neck.

"Will you be close?" he asked against Sean's throat.

Sean laughed at that. "What? You want me to hold your hand? That would go over well with Jason. Don't be stupid."

Trying not to feel hurt at the dismissive tone, Blair pulled back. "I just thought-"

But Sean didn't let him finish. "You thought that I'd be here with you while Jason fucks you? Holding your hand and whispering sweet encouragement in your ears? You want me to bring you ice cream after you're done? Come on, Blair, don't be such a kid."

Blair shoved Sean back, angry now. "Shut up!"

"See?" Sean stared at him sharply. "You're acting like a kid. What is this, now, a little tantrum? Do I need to put you to bed for an afternoon nap? Should I give you a time out for you to calm down? Or a spanking, maybe?"

"I hate when you do that," Blair said, unable to stop his voice from shaking a little.

"Yeah? Well, I hate that you make me do that. Talk to you and treat you like you're just a little boy trying to play with the grownups." Sean turned around, facing away from Blair for a moment, before turning back to him again. "Can I trust you, Blair? Can I trust you to go through with it and not let me down?"

"Yes."

Reaching out a hand to Blair's face, Sean grabbed a fistful of his hair. "You said you love me." He tightened his hold. Not to hurt, but to make Blair focus on him. Blair knew that move by heart; he didn't try to pry the hand away from him.

"You can prove it to me with this," Sean pressed. "You can repay me for everything I gave you the past year. You want to do that, right?"

"Yes," Blair repeated. He wished he could make his voice sound more solid but he couldn't find the strength right now.

It didn't seem to bother Sean, who kissed him again. Blair didn't participate, only submitted to the kiss, which was apparently enough for Sean, because he just drove his tongue inside Blair's mouth and only pulled back after he'd made it clear to Blair that giving in was the only way to go.

"I like it when you make me happy, babe," he whispered against Blair's ear.

Blair licked his lips and kept silent. He didn't know what to say. He was confused. He was scared. He felt... betrayed.

And that angered him. He felt 'betrayed'? Why? Because Sean had asked him for a favor that made him uncomfortable? God. Sean was right, he was just a kid. A stupid, naïve kid. He hated that. It was just sex, Sean was right with that too. That was all. He could do it.

He would let Jason fuck him and Sean wouldn't owe him any money anymore - they wouldn't owe him any money anymore. It was easy. It was nothing. Just sex. To help Sean. Because he needed Blair to do that for him.

He nodded, more to himself than anything, but Sean looked like he approved.

"That's my boy!" He kissed Blair soundly. "I'm gonna call Jason, okay? Get it out of the way." He started toward the other room but turned back to Blair, embracing him from behind, hands resting proprietarily over his stomach and chest. "Just this once, baby, I promise." Then he left.

Blair watched him grab the phone, frowning slightly. He wished Sean hadn't said that, hadn't added, 'I promise'. Because promises were nothing more than empty words, meant to be broken. Blair had learned that lesson a long time ago, and learned it well.

Listening to Sean make his call, Blair had an epiphany of sorts. There were no trumpets and no fireworks to go with it, he wasn't sure there was even a little bulb involved, but he suddenly realized that Sean would ask this of him again. Probably not right away, but it would happen eventually. Maybe to settle another debt. And one day maybe to help pay the rent. To pay for a car repair, or... The possibilities seemed endless. Scary.

Distractedly, he listened to the conversation taking place in the other room, catching phrases like 'just a bit of persuasion' and 'pretty mouth' and 'tight ass' and 'pliant and eager'. He just closed his eyes and tuned them out.

It hurt, being discussed like a side of meat, but it was his own fault for being, indeed, a stupid, naïve kid. Apparently, past lessons hadn't taught him anything. But this time he was going to learn.

He stroked his belly with a shaking hand as a pain in his stomach made itself known, and decided that he would bide his time and then get the hell out of here. He'd left home once, he could do it again.

It was easy. It was nothing. He could do it.

Resolution #2: Never let someone in. As soon as you do, they break everything.

---

Pockets - and shoes, he liked to put his money in different places, just in case some shit happened - filled with a wad of bills, Blair stretched his body lazily and tried to get some of the kinks out.

He made an inventory of his body aches and came up with positive results. His back ached a bit, but nothing too bad. His jaw was a little sore, but nothing unusual. His scalp was slightly sensitive after one too many johns decided to use his hair as a handle, but nothing out of the ordinary. And his ass, well, it was just on this side of painful, but certainly bearable. He was walking, wasn't he?

No bones had been broken, no patch of skin had been cut. It was a good night.

What did he want to do now? He could go to Mick's and have a beer, wash out the oily taste of latex that never left him when he was working, but he knew that it was the rendezvous of too many other hookers; he had no desire to see their pathetic stoned asses tonight. Besides, he'd heard that a new player had arrived in town and was looking for 'volunteers' to enter his stable, and Blair had no desire to meet him either.

He was his own boss, thank you very much. He hadn't wanted a pimp when he'd started out, and he wasn't going to get sucked in now. Which was also one of the reasons why he didn't do drugs. Too many of those drug dealers had a little business on the side, and it was too easy for them to 'recruit' some of their less lucky clients. In this part of town, there always came a time when you couldn't find the cash anymore, and the big boys always found a way to make you pay back your debts.

If Sean had taught Blair anything - that is, besides things like how to take it from both ends or that a lover could turn pimp in the blink of an eye - it was that 'just once' meant shit. It was never 'just once'.

Blair was in control of his life now. He was no-one's bitch. Well, okay, unless he was working, of course, but he answered to one person only - himself.

No, it wasn't always easy, or even safe. He'd ended up more than once at the ER, sometimes had to stay in his bed for a few days, unable to move, and he'd acquired some new scars to add to the older ones that marked his body, but he accepted that as the hazards of the job.

If people had actually cared to ask him - and no-one ever did - he'd have told them that getting beat up or fucked roughly by complete strangers was actually less painful than some of the things he'd endured in the past, at the hands of people who were supposed to care for and love and protect him. That had hurt like hell. The rest, not so much. At least, not where it counted. So he just took it, and lived another day.

He'd been approached a couple of times by hustlers and wannabe pimps; been told that he would have their protection if he decided to be nice and come to heel and become 'one of the team', but he'd always refused. He'd seen how 'protected' Bela had been when she'd tried to keep some of the money for herself, or how much protection Shane had received when he'd failed to take enough customers one night. With 'protection' like that, it was a no-brainer; he could continue going it alone for a long time.

That kind of business was a trap, and he was determined not to get caught. He wasn't going to give his life away to someone else. Ever.

A whistle on his left drew his attention and he caught sight of one of his neighbors and a couple of his friends.

"Hey, Sky baby, wanna suck my dick tonight?" Sal called from the other side of the street, his hand cupping his cock through his jeans. Lewd laughter accompanied the comment, but Blair only flipped him the finger, not worried for a minute.

"When your momma decides to raise your allowance, man. Then we'll talk!"

More laughter welcomed his come-back and he just kept walking. Sal had a big mouth, but he never tried anything. Blair preferred the loud ones; they were less likely to be dangerous.

On his way to his little apartment, Blair wondered if he'd ever heard Sal call him something other than his 'working title'. Not that he cared either way, but he was curious. Sometimes it felt like he got called Sky more often than Blair. It should tell him something about his life, really.

Again, not that he cared. Let them call him Sky - or all those other epithets that never failed to make his tricks harder when they worked him over - as if Blair didn't even exist, he didn't give a shit.

He was kinda proud of his pseudo, anyway. It had a story to go with it. His story. He liked it.

When he'd first started working on the street, Blair had thought of picking 'Shadow' as an alias. Back then, at almost sixteen, he'd wanted a cool name and 'Shadow' certainly had a nice ring to it - that and the fact that it summed up his whole situation so nicely. But in the end he'd changed his mind and gone for Sky instead. Sure, it might not have sounded as 'cool' as the other name, but it had a hopeful and almost carefree resonance to it that his own life definitely lacked, and he'd always find it quite ironic and amusing.

Also, it was a sort of tribute to his very first trick. That is, the one he had picked himself, as opposed to the guys Sean used to whore him to. So, anyway, the guy had kept blathering shit like most gorgeous eyes and blue as summer sky - all the while fucking him so roughly that he'd put Blair out of commission for a couple of days - and somehow it'd stuck.

And now, the nickname kinda served as a reminder that johns were assholes whose only goal was to get off and who didn't give a shit about who they fucked. Not that he thought he'd ever succumb to the 'Pretty Woman' syndrome, but a reminder was always a good thing.

Looking up, he realized he'd made it to his place. He took the stairs and grabbed his key from his back pocket. Opened his door, switched on the light and locked up behind him. Home. Finally.

He didn't waste anytime getting naked, discarding his clothes and letting them fall on the floor as he headed to the bathroom. He needed to get clean before he could think of doing anything else.

He started with his teeth, brushing vigorously. Then he turned on the shower and didn't wait for the water to get warm before entering the stall; it could take some time and he never wanted to wait.

Tremors ran through his body as the cold water fell on him, but he ignored the discomfort. It helped wash away the sweat. Helped wash away the come. Helped wash away the memory of those unwanted touches. He stayed still under the flow for a little while, trying to empty his mind of everything.

When the water warmed up a bit, he shook his head and smiled. Cold helped, but warm was better. He picked up his soap - the soap and the toothpaste were two things he always made sure were available in the apartment; he couldn't bear the thought of coming back from a work night and not being able to get cleaned - and a cloth, lathering it.

Then, slowly, he ran the washcloth over his body; he started with his face and neck, hand and cloth sliding over his shoulders, over his chest... he never hurried the process, never changed the order in which he washed himself. The legs came after, thighs and knees down to the calves. Then it was his feet. Only afterward would he start on his crotch and ass.

If looked at from a certain perspective, it could be seen as a meditation of sorts. He certainly felt calmer afterwards.

He let the water rinse the lather off him and stayed a little longer, motionless, just letting himself feel the caress of the water over his face and the rest of his body.

Of course, his shower never lasted too long because, more often than not, the hot water ran out pretty quickly. Still, it was always enough.

Blair got out of the shower and grabbed a towel, quickly drying himself, starting with his hair. He wrapped the rough material around his waist and went back to the other room, feeling like himself again. Sky wasn't here at the moment. Only Blair, and that was nice.

Opening the fridge, he made a face as he realized he would need to buy some food in the morning. He closed it without regret; he wasn't hungry, anyway. He would make himself coffee instead - that is, if there was any left. He checked the cupboard. Yes!

Waiting for the coffee to brew, he snatched a pair of clean underwear from the basket near his bed-sofa and put them on. He also found a clean shirt and congratulated himself for being so domesticated that he could find two clean items at the same time. The thought made him laugh softly, the sound a bit loud in the silent apartment.

Truth was, he had an aversion to dirty clothes. Well, to dirty many things, really. He felt dirty so often when working on the street that he needed cleanliness at least at home. The apartment was hardly in pristine condition - it was small, the walls and plumbing were decades old and in dire need of renovation, it was too hot in summer and too cold in winter - but his stuff, at least, was clean, and that made him content.

Coffee ready, he poured himself a cup and went to stand in front of the window, sipping the hot drink. He could hear the city life outside his window; it was noisy, and the glow from many neon lights in the street below made it look like it never slept.

Alone in his apartment, Blair surveyed the scene from above. He observed a scantily-clad girl, who looked younger than himself, climb into a car as other girls watched her. Blair knew, without witnessing it, their expressions combined both envy and relief.

Envy because she would make some money tonight, relief because climbing into a car like that always made your heart beat faster in fear. Anything could happen, and all who made their living on the street knew it.

He saw two homeless guys sleeping on the porch of the building across from his.

He saw a pair of young women strolling the street. He wondered for a moment where they came from and where they were going at this hour, then shook his head at the futile thought. What did he care?

Turning his back on the window, he finished his drink. He put the cup on the counter in the kitchen area, switched off the light and then went to lie down on his bed. It creaked as he tried to find a comfortable position, the sound never pleasant but familiar, all the same.

Sleep never came immediately, no matter how late - or early, depending on your point of view - it was, or how tired Blair was himself. On his back, he stared at the ceiling, whitewashed by the lights coming from the street, thinking of his plan for the next day. He would pick up some groceries, first. Then maybe catch a film, later; it'd been some time since he'd allowed himself that simple pleasure and he'd seen a poster for an indie festival. Could be fun. He preferred those to the blockbusters everyone liked to go see. They told better stories, usually from an unexpected point of view. He liked how different those movies were. After that... he wasn't sure.

He would find something. He always did. Slowly, he started drowsing and let himself go...

Resolution #3: Even when life is shitty, keep going. Because as crappy as it might be, it's still yours.

---

Rubbing his aching chest, Blair swore to himself. If there was one thing he disliked more than being bruised and sore, it was being sick. Bruised meant, if he could still stand, that he could find customers whose kinks were met when they saw him black and blue. Sick meant he was just useless.

No way was he going to work tonight. Apart from not feeling up to par, he was pretty sure that his coughing up a lung while being pounded wouldn't really go over well with his clients. Not 'glamorous' enough, surely. He snorted. Right.

Blair took a long breath, precipitating another coughing spell, and debated his next course of action. He should probably go back home. Get in bed. Try to rest and take it easy so that this crap didn't get worse. He also had to think about an alternative if it did get worse. He was short on medicine. And short on money too.

If it came to that, he could always go to the free clinic, he supposed. It was definitely not his favorite place - he hated feeling like a charity case or someone who didn't know how to take care of himself, and that was pretty much how he felt each time he went there - but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Crossing the street, he realized he was five minutes from the port. He wondered - just as fleeting thought, nothing more - if Ellison was working there today. If he was, he should be about to finish his shift. It was just idle curiosity, though, nothing else. The guy was a basket case who always thought that Blair was trying to molest him or something... but he was also someone who hadn't tried to fuck with Blair since they'd met. Or tried to fuck him, period.

He started walking toward the docks.

Jim's attitude had piqued Blair's interest; he wasn't accustomed to meeting either behavior. He also vividly remembered that little scene on the dock when he'd tried to seduce the man. Jim's answer was branded in his memory and, if Blair was honest with himself, it never failed to give him a thrill of warmth when he thought about it.

Not that he believed that he and Jim would ever fuck - he didn't give freebies and he was done with relationships - but Jim's words had felt good. Strange, unfamiliar. And, yeah, good. They'd certainly taken Blair by surprise. He'd thought Jim would turn out to be the kind of jerk who only thought with his dick and would jump on the opportunity to fuck some ass, but Jim had proved him wrong.

In the weeks that followed, they'd talked several times, usually after they were both done with their jobs. Jim was the only person he knew who didn't seem to see him as a whore. Blair wondered if the man had some kind of super vision that made him look past the façade and right through Blair?

Either way, Blair had to admit he'd learned to look forward to those little talks. He had no idea what Ellison could get from them and he was pretty sure the guy would wake up one day and realize he was wasting his time with a piece of trash but, in the meantime, Blair enjoyed those unexpected breaches of protocol.

It wasn't that he felt lonely... but talking to someone, and being listened to, was quite a nice experiment. Different.

"Hey, Sandburg, you were waiting for me?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Blair's eyes met Jim's amused ones. He realized he'd been standing in their 'usual spot'. Talk about looking pathetic.

"Don't flatter yourself, Ellison," he answered, sounding a bit sharper than he'd intended. "I was just passing by. On my way home."

"My poor ego," Jim said, affecting a wounded look. Then he looked Blair over. "You don't look so hot, Chief."

"Are you insulting me, man?" Blair replied, smirking. "I always look hot."

Jim chuckled. "You do, yeah. Let me rephrase that; are you feeling okay?"

"Sure." Except he started coughing as he said it, ruining the effect.

"I can see that." Jim could do sarcastic like nobody's business, Blair thought. "I told you baring your ass in the cold wouldn't do you any good."

Blair rolled his eyes; he'd heard it all that night when he'd had no better choice other than fucking outside, in a little alley. He shrugged.

"Man, what did you want me to do? Tony decided to increase the price of the rooms for us little workers of the night. No way am I gonna bend over and say yes. We have a deal, he has to honor it. Or I'll just go look elsewhere. There're plenty of hotels that would love to work with a hooker."

"Why can't your customers pay for the room, anyway?"

"Most of them do. When they don't want to fuck you outside, of course. But sometimes you'll get picked up by guys who make things more complicated, and providing the room is part of the service in their cases." Blair winked. "Don't worry, though, I never lose any money."

Jim offered a little smile in return. "I trust you on that."

Blair stared at him silently for a little while. It never failed to surprise him how easy it seemed to be for Jim to talk about Blair's whoring as if it was just another job. The guy was something else, alright.

Feeling pain in his chest, Blair slowly rubbed it again, a gesture he'd repeated many times the past couple of days. He felt eyes on him. "What?"

Jim had his head cocked to the side and an intent look on his face, as if he was listening to something. He frowned.

"What, Jim?" Blair repeated.

"You should think about seeing a doctor about those lungs, kid."

"Why, do my lungs talk to you?" Blair asked mockingly. "What did they say?"

Jim didn't find his comeback that amusing, if his clenched jaw was any indication. "Take it or leave it, Sandburg. I was a paramedic once, I can recognize congested lungs."

Blair thought Jim's turn of phrase was surreal - as if the guy could actually hear the congestion in his lungs. "It's nothing," he said, shrugging. "Just an annoying cough."

"You're not taking anything either, right?" Jim asked though, from his tone, it was obvious he already knew the answer.

Blair smirked and opened his arms. "Hey, why would I want to pollute my body with drugs, man. It's a temple!"

"Your temple is opened twenty-four-seven, Chief," Jim said, not unkindly. "I'm sure medicine wouldn't hurt it at all."

"It's nothing," Blair insisted. "I'm okay."

"Sure you are." Jim seemed to come to a conclusion. "Look, I have some pills that I can't use anymore. Why don't I give them to you? It's nothing you wouldn't be prescribed and it could help."

"Why can't you use them anymore?"

Jim shrugged. "Allergies."

Blair knew he was supposed to feel happy someone made such an offer, but he didn't like it. What the hell was Jim playing at?

"I don't have any money," he said simply, after a while. He knew some people would feel embarrassed in admitting it, but not him. It was just a fact. Nothing to be ashamed about.

"Did you see my lips pronounce the word 'money'?"

Blair felt a jolt of anger hit him. He didn't like games. "So what do you want?" he asked straight-forwardly, though he already knew what Jim was going to say. He wanted to kick himself for being so stupid; he should have known that Jim was just like the rest of them. This was the wake-up call he'd been more or less expecting from day one.

"Nothing."

Right. As if people offered to help in exchange of nothing. "Don't give me that shit, man. Just say what you want."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Blair with an intensity that was starting to make him seriously edgy.

"Are you deaf, Sandburg?" Jim said, voice clipped. "I don't want anything from you. I'm offering. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Please!" Blair snorted. "I'm not stupid."

"Right now, I'm wondering," was Jim's answer.

Which didn't go over well with Blair. "You fucker. Stop with the games, already!"

Jim uncrossed his arms, then, and took a step toward Blair, looking pissed. "I'm not playing games! I'm just trying to help."

"Yeah, and I'm just asking about the fucking price of your help!"

"You little shit," Jim snapped, "you're starting to seriously piss me off. Stop comparing me to all those assholes who're always using you! I told you, I'm not like them! So just try to get that into that thick head of yours!"

Strangely enough, Jim's anger helped calm Blair a little. He stared at Jim for a long moment, debating with himself whether to accept or not. So far, it was true that Jim had proved to be different from the assholes Blair was usually in contact with, but people had a bad tendency to disappoint you if you let your guard down. How could he be sure that Jim was really different from them?

"Look, Chief," Jim said, sounding like he was done with the conversation, "you don't want the drugs? Fine. I'm not going to force your hand. I'm offering; either you want them or you don't. One way or the other, I don't really care, okay?"

Frowning, Blair was trying to decide whether Jim was playing him, using the 'disinterest' card to get him to accept his offer, when his thoughts were interrupted by a new bout of coughing that let him breathless, chest hurting and apparently burning from the inside. He rubbed his chest for the umpteenth time to try and soothe the pain and decided that it might be worth a try.

"Sure, okay," he all but croaked. "Why not? I mean, if you don't mind?"

Jim shrugged. "I don't. Like I said, I was gonna throw them away, anyway."

"Okay, if you're sure, then."

He watched as Jim rolled his eyes. "I am," he said firmly. Then smiled a little. "If only to stop you from hurting my ears each time your lungs rattle inside your body. The sound is driving me crazy."

Blair couldn't help a little smile of his own in answer to Jim's ridiculous joke. "Sorry my being sick as a dog hurts your delicate ears, Ellison."

Jim whistled. "So you finally admit you're sick, Chief? Will wonders never cease."

Blair flipped him the finger, but he was actually enjoying himself. Not that he would admit it under torture.

"Okay, my place isn't far from here," Jim said, head motioning on their left.

"Your place?" Blair's amusement disappeared immediately, as if it had been switched off.

Jim glanced at him. "What? You think I'm a walking drugstore? Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not. If you want the stuff, you'll have to come with me." He started walking in the indicated direction.

Blair didn't move.

Obviously realizing that he was on his own, Jim turned on his heels, eyebrow raised. "What now?"

"Nothing."

"Spare me, Chief." Jim scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's never 'nothing' with you." He watched Blair expectantly, his eyes hard but not angry. Or at least, not that Blair could tell. He was just waiting for an answer.

"Okay, you don't want to help me," Jim said, when it was obvious that Blair wouldn't clue him in. "I'm sure I can guess, anyway; I'm trying to lure you to my territory so that I can fuck you raw. Am I right?"

Lips pressed in a thin line, Blair refused to take the bait.

"Paranoia isn't an attractive look on you, Sandburg," Jim said, his voice hard.

"Neither is a black eye or a bleeding ass," Blair blurted.

It wasn't exactly what he'd meant to say, but it was too late now.

Jim didn't look thrilled with his answer. But, as usual, he surprised Blair and didn't try to take out his frustration on him. "Of course, I forgot, I'm going to beat you, too. I'm one hell of a busy bastard."

It infuriated Blair how Jim took everything in stride. It felt like he was continually mocking Blair, making him look like a fool for having the common sense not to trust other people. Especially as he'd heard about Jim's reputation on the street - a crazy bastard who was basically a loner.

"Fuck you," he said sharply.

Jim looked at him mockingly. "I thought it was the other way around?"

They stared at each other for a little while and Jim was the one who gave up first. Oddly enough, Blair didn't really enjoy the victory.

"Know what, Sandburg? Forget it. I've already fought with a jerk during my shift tonight, I don't feel like doing it all again."

Blair chose to ignore the implication that he was acting like a jerk and didn't say anything.

"I'm getting hungry," Jim continued, "so I think I'll just grab something to eat and then go home. Do what you want, okay?" He turned his back on Blair and started walking away from him. "If you change your mind," he called without looking back, "I'll be at Marcie's. If you don't, see you around, Chief."

Blair watched him go, feeling a little stunned at the turn of events. Jim never did the expected thing. He never tried to fuck him. Never raised a hand to him, even during one of their arguments - and they'd had plenty, even in the few weeks since they'd met. He never really got offended when Blair tried to get a rise out of him, but did get angry when Blair didn't mean to be insulting.

In other words, Jim was confusing as hell. Blair sat on a bench and tried to put his thoughts into order.

He couldn't say what prompted him to go to Marcie's instead of going straight home, but that's where he found himself twenty minutes later.

When Blair slipped into the booth in from of him, Jim didn't say anything. He just strode to the counter and asked for fresh OJ, which he put in front of Blair.

"Drink."

Blair did. The orange juice burned his throat for a moment, but it tasted and felt good. He licked his lips to savor it till the last drop.

"You're a stubborn ass, Sandburg. You know that right?"

"If the situation was reversed," Blair asked, genuinely curious, "how would you react?"

Jim snorted. "I'd fight you tooth and nail. Asking for help... that's not exactly my thing."

Blair pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, nodding to himself at the admission.

Jim tapped a finger on the table to catch his attention. "Here's what we're gonna do. I'm going to ask for a second serving. You'll shut your mouth and eat. Then we'll go to my place. I'll make you wait outside so that your virtue is safe and I'll give you the damn drugs. Is that okay with you?"

Blair nodded without a word.

"Good." Jim motioned to the waitress closest to them and asked for a second plate.

When it came, Blair ate slowly. He wasn't really hungry but he wasn't going to pass up a free meal. And he could focus on something that was easy.

Watching him chew his last bite, Jim waited for him to wash it down with some more juice before standing up.

"Let's go, Sandburg."

Blair got out of the booth and followed him. Jim opened the door for him and Blair stepped outside the diner, watching him. "I don't get you man. I really don't."

Jim let the door close behind him and chuckled. "Because you think I get you? Let's just say we're even."

"Sure."

"Come on, Chief. Let's go and fix you a little, huh?"

Shaking his head, Blair brushed his shoulder against Jim's arm, matching steps with him. Jim still confused the hell out of him. But maybe it wasn't so bad.

Resolution #4: Give James Ellison a chance.

---

The hands in Blair's hair tightened and the rhythm stuttered, becoming more erratic, telling him all he needed to know; the guy was close, very close.

Blair smiled to himself; it was time for the coup de grâce. He took the dick even deeper down his throat and deliberately swallowed. Throat massages always drove the johns wild, and this one was no exception. He bucked and shot his load, groaning.

"God," the man said, head thrown back against the wall. He was breathing hard, high from his orgasm.

Discreetely pulling the condom off the man's dick and letting it fall on the concrete, Blair stood up from his kneeling position. He didn't say anything. It wasn't needed. The show wasn't over, anyway; he was still performing.

Blair leaned back slightly and made a show of stroking his cock through his jeans, making a little pained sound while doing it. He knew it would please his customer.

A smug smile tugged at the john's lips. "That turned you on, huh, bitch? To suck my dick like that? You like being on your knees, being used, don't you?"

Inwardly, Blair rolled his eyes. Why did those guys all have to say the same stupid shit all the time? But he didn't let anything show on his face when he thrust against his hand, biting his lips as if he was so excited he couldn't stand it.

"You're such a slut."

"Always for you," Blair said, lowering his eyes and looking up through his eyelashes. God, that was pathetic.

The man shoved Blair away and adjusted his clothes before pulling a couple of bills from his wallet.

Finally, Blair thought. He made sure to school his features, though. It wasn't the time to look like he was in any hurry. He was a professional, after all.

Even though he was already thinking of getting home - and meeting with Jim afterward - Blair didn't reach out a hand to take the money right away. He just waited till the guy beckoned him closer again, and he let himself be groped roughly a last time before he was allowed to grab the bills.

When that was done, the john didn't waste any time and quickly strode away from Blair. He was out of the back alley in an instant.

Blair usually liked to have the money before he started but this particular trick was a regular, so he never worried about not getting paid for the service. And getting paid well, too, Blair thought with a smile, as he put the money in his pocket.

This particular john was one of the tamest he had. He always paid good money for nothing spectacular. Most of the time, he didn't even fuck Blair. Just demanded a blowjob outdoors and threw a couple of insults Blair's way. It was incredibly 'vanilla'.

Blair shrugged to himself, not that he was complaining, of course. He left the alley, too, and headed toward his apartment.

It was still relatively early - only 1:00 AM - but Blair was done for the night. He could pretend it was because he'd had a couple of rough days recently and needed to take it easy, but the truth was that he wanted to check on Jim.

Jim'd had a very bad reaction to, well, something two days before and had been taken to the hospital. But things had only got worse, there; seemed like Jim was reacting badly to every single treatment the doctors tried on him.

Things had calmed down for an hour, right after Blair was finally allowed to visit him, and Jim had discharged himself, arguing that the hospital was making him even sicker.

Blair had to agree; he was starting to think that the doctors had no clue as to what was wrong with Jim. Their ignorance was certainly hurting Jim more than anything - and costing him money he couldn't afford to waste.

So he'd stayed by Jim's side after he left the hospital and stuck by him all day. Jim had seriously freaked Blair out. Freaked himself, too, Blair was sure, but of course Jim wouldn't have admitted it under torture.

Blair had found himself in an unfamiliar situation; getting worried sick over someone who, he couldn't really deny it anymore, he cared for more than he thought. He'd gotten angry at the realization, but what had angered him even more was Jim' behavior.

Once back home, the stubborn bastard had tried to downplay the situation, pretending it was nothing more than a bug and that it was going to pass. Never mind that it'd looked like he was going to pass out a couple of times.

He'd refused Blair's help at first - not that Blair had actually known what to do at the beginning - before having no choice but to accept that Blair was going to stay with him to take care of simple things like helping him to the bathroom or bringing him food and drink.

It had taken Blair an eternity to think of something that got positive results. He'd been at a loss, really, as nothing he'd tried really seemed to be working. He'd hated feeling so powerless. But eventually he'd realized that the problem seemed to be that Jim was over-stimulated by - well - everything around them.

Following his 'theory', Blair had turned off the lights and only used a quiet voice to talk to Jim. Then he'd had the idea of getting the man naked and under a very light sheet - no blankets - and Jim had slowly calmed down, face losing its pained expression.

After a couple of hours without any more of those spells that made it look like he was going to die on the spot, Jim had thanked Blair for his effort in a gruff but - to Blair's ears - relieved voice.

By late afternoon, Jim had said he felt better, though Blair had his doubts about the truth of the statement. But he couldn't find anything to say to force the man to stay home for the night instead of going back to the warehouse where Jim had been working for the past week. They weren't married, right? They weren't even living together; they were just fucking. They were - well. Jim had said he was better and that was that.

So Blair had just shrugged, told Jim to make sure he wasn't going to kill himself at work - literally - and he'd left for his own apartment.

Now, Blair wanted to see for himself that Jim was still okay. But before meeting him, he wanted to get home and clean himself up. He couldn't bear the thought of being with Jim, touching him, while he carried the scent and touch of the men he'd sucked or let into his body during the last hours.

His shower was hurried, though. His ritual wasn't less meaningful, but he was anxious to check on Jim, so he made quick work of the business, grabbed clean clothes and then was out of the door.

Approaching the warehouse, Blair kept his expression neutral. He was reluctant to let Jim know how freaked out he was. He couldn't be powerless like that; he needed to be in control. Couldn't show weakness. So he leaned back against a container and waited for the flow of people to leave the building. He checked his watch. He was right on time.

He watched as the first workers passed the gate, not paying attention to them. He was here for one person only, the others were mere distractions - not important enough to warrant his attention.

Except, after a dozen of the guys had left the building, Jim was still a no-show. Blair frowned. He was pretty sure Jim should have been here by now. He hesitated. Only employees had access to the warehouse; he wouldn't be allowed in. That left him only one alternative.

Straightening, he walked toward a man that he knew, from what Jim had said, was someone you could rely on, and someone Jim appreciated. He ignored the sneers that accompanied him when he approached and just rolled his eyes when he was asked to blow a couple of guys as a bonus for a rough night job.

"Hey, Ty."

"Hey, man," Ty said, smiling down at Blair. "I was gonna come to you."

Blair raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

"Ellison told me to pass a message to you."

Lips pressed in a thin line, Blair nodded. "He was sent home, right?"

"Yeah. The guy was sick as a dog," Ty said, shaking his head "Should have stayed home, if you ask me."

Blair couldn't agree more. Stubborn ass. "Okay." He turned on his heels before looking over his shoulder. "Thanks, man."

Ty waved as if to say it was nothing but Blair barely saw the gesture; he was already walking.

On his way to Jim's apartment, he tried not to let his worry get the better of him. Or his anger. Neither he nor Jim were good at asking for help. It was one of the many topics that was sure to end up in an argument. But this was different. Being beaten up and refusing to go to the ER was one thing; Blair had learned to assess damage a long time ago, so he never understood why it made Jim furious that he just took care of things himself. But being sick as a dog and having some kind of attacks that left Jim weak as a kitten was definitely more serious.

Now if he could just make the asshole see that.

He finally made it to Jim's building, ignored the elevator as it was more likely to be out of order, and arrived in front of the door. He was about to knock when he changed his mind. He pulled out the simple keyring he kept in his pocket with two keys on it instead of one. He'd never used Jim's key before, but tonight was the night.

The place wasn't in complete darkness, which was a good sign. The light was dimmed and bathed the room softly. Blair took a step inside, closing the door behind him. The bed was empty and Jim was nowhere in sight, which meant he was in the bathroom. Good. He wasn't in a coma or anything.

Putting the keys back in their place, Blair strode to the kitchen area and drank water from the faucet. Then he hopped onto the counter and waited for Jim.

He didn't need to wait too long. "Ellison," he said, voice neutral, taking in Jim's naked form.

"Sandburg," Jim replied. He looked, and sounded, tired - exhausted even - but it didn't seem like he would keel over anytime soon.

"I heard you made a fool of yourself." Blair wasn't one to beat around the bush.

Jim raised his eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah, more or less."

"Who told you that?" Jim played along.

Blair shrugged. "People."

Smiling a little, Jim rubbed his chest. "You don't talk to 'people'."

Unwilling to let the subject change, and certainly not for Jim's benefit, Blair redirected the conversation. "You look like shit."

"Thanks." Jim ran a hand through his hair and walked toward his bed before sitting on the edge of it. "You came here to insult me?"

Another shrug. "I don't know. For all the good it would do. You don't seem to care about what I say."

"You're so full of it, Sandburg," Jim all but growled.

"Look who's talking," Blair snapped, jumping down from his position, taking a rigid stance in front of his lover.

"I thought I was all right."

From Jim's voice, it was clear he was just trying to placate Blair. "Cut the crap, man! You just thought you could beat this thing by being a stubborn jerk and pretending it was nothing."

"What are you always telling me, Chief, when I'm asking you to take it easy?" Jim made a show of looking for the answer. "Oh, yeah, I know; 'I need the money'. Well, this time it's my turn."

"Please! This isn't what this is about. And it's not the same thing, anyway!" Blair was trying to control his temper, but it was difficult.

"Why? Because it's you?"

"Because I never get catatonic!" he screamed. Without planning the move, he took the few steps that separated him from Jim and crowded his space. "Because I never stop breathing, or-"

"Damnit, Sandburg," Jim cut him off. "I thought I had in under control, okay?" His jaw was clenched so hard Blair feared for his teeth.

Blair sneered. "Oh yeah, the big Ellison can control his body just by the power of his mind. I forgot." His voice was like ice.

"God." Jim scrubbed a hand over his face. "Why don't we take a break from this little conversation, huh Chief?"

"You want me to wait till you kill yourself the next time you decide you're stronger than your health problem? Sure. Fine. We'll talk then." He turned his back on Jim, fuming.

Almost immediately he heard Jim's mattress creak and felt his lover press against his back, then felt him bend his head so that his mouth was against Blair's ear.

"Blair, take it easy, okay?" Jim whispered.

"I just-" he started but couldn't continue. "Look, I'm sure we can find a solution. To help you when those spells happen. To make you hurt less. To make things better."

Jim embraced him from behind, arms crossed over his stomach, holding him tight.

"I hate that it happens," Jim admitted in a very low voice, as if he was afraid of revealing his secret aloud. "Hate that I can't control the fucking thing."

"I hate it too, Jim," Blair breathed, leaning back against Jim's warmth. "And I hate that you react as if nothing happened. As if you just had a damn cold."

"The spells make me feel like a freak. I feel like I'm going crazy sometimes."

Blair rested his head back on Jim's shoulder. "You're not a freak. And you're not crazy either." Then he turned around, Jim's arms still around him, just loosening a little to give him room to maneuver. "But you are a stubborn ass."

Jim nuzzled his face in response.

"Next time it happens, I think you need to take it easy immediately. So things don't get out control."

Silence stretched between them, but Blair knew Jim was just thinking about what he'd just said. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

"I know I am. I'm sure you could have avoided the worst of it if you'd just fucking rest and stay home." Like I wanted, Blair thought to himself. He was expecting Jim to brush him off, but he just took a step back and slid under the covers, pushing the sheet to his waist.

"Know what?" Jim yawned. "I'm too tired to argue with you."

"Good," Blair said, almost viciously. He climbed on the bed on his knees and crushed his lips to Jim's, kissing him roughly, trying to infuse the kiss with all the emotions he couldn't really put into words.

Jim kissed him back with the same passion, hands gripped tight in his hair. When they pulled away, it seemed as if they'd come to an accord of sorts.

Eyes locked on Jim, Blair knelt back on the bed before standing up. He took off his clothes and slipped under the covers. He plastered himself to his lover's side without a word.

One of his legs came to rest over Jim's and he curled a hand over Jim's waist. He squeezed once, before relaxing minutely. Skin on skin, that's what he needed. To feel Jim's body, the hard, taut muscles, against his own. Solid. Real.

"It's okay, Blair," Jim said softly, already on the verge of going to sleep, if the slurred words were any indication. He shifted so that one of his arms embraced Blair, hand curved on his naked hip, fingers splayed so that it covered as much skin as possible, heavy and warm.

Blair nodded. It was okay. He knew that. And he had every intention of making sure it would stay that way for a long time. Because he couldn't imagine losing this, couldn't imagine losing this thing he had with Jim before he even understood all the implications and ramifications.

Resolution #5: Never let Jim go.