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Green-eyed Hope, Sentinel/Buffy
In August, I started a follow up to "If I Know Not Love," an angsty piece where a gay Blair moves out of a straight Jim's loft and gets badly injured in a car accident. I didn't have time to really edit or work the pieces much, so this is the final story, "Green-eyed Hope." Most of these bits are just polished copies of the original set of stories; however, the last two bits are original.
Blair is teaching, and a new student brings a new hope for love and a new opportunity for envy to raise its ugly head.
Title: Green-Eyed Hope
Genre: Slash
Rating: SAFE
Pairing: Blair/Riley
Blair watched the class wander out of the building in pairs and small groups. A few loners gathered papers and rearranged books, but no one looked particularly interested in hanging out with the professor. Blair couldn't blame them. Two weeks in, they were still covering the boring bits. Let him get into initiation ceremonies, and he'd have them eating out of his hand and hanging around after class to soak up the stories too X-rated for the class proper. It was just that with the wheelchair, students were a little slower to warm up to him. That was just one of the many joys of a disability, but considering all the good he had in his life, Blair was not about to complain.
One student seemed to linger a little too long. Riley. He was a post-grad student, one of Blair's advisees, but so far Blair hadn't seen much of him.
Rolling the chair over to that side of the room, Blair watched as Riley reordered his books for the third time. "Riley, right?" Blair asked. He ran his fingers over the hidden pocket on the side of his chair where he kept his cell phone, still a little nervous.
Last week, Riley had pinged Blair's radar so strongly that Blair thought the man might be a Sentinel. He had that same manner Jim and Alex had shared—the habit of scanning a room and allowing their eyes to wander away even during a conversation. It was like there was too much information swimming around them to ignore it for long. Jim, however, had insisted that he wasn't getting anything on his own radar, not even when, the following day, he cautiously sat in the seat Riley had chosen. Now Blair felt a little silly because he'd decided the guy was a soldier, which accounted for him pinging Blair's Jim radar. Well, that and he was cute. Cute and military always pinged Blair's radar.
"Yeah," he agreed. "You're a great lecturer."
"And you're full of shit. This intro stuff is boring no matter who presents it, but I'll knock your socks off later," Blair said with a smile. Riley smiled back, but the expression was guarded and small. "So, you're moving over to anthropology?" Blair asked. "I got a look at your records, and it looks like you have an impressive background in psychology, why the move?"
Riley shrugged and watched the last of the undergrads clear out of the room. Blair let him have his silence. Even if Blair didn't understand the need for awkward silences in a conversation, his years with Jim had taught him to just go with the flow on that front. Eventually Riley looked back toward him. "I just don't think I can deal with psychology anymore."
"Oh man, anthropology has just as much psychology, so don't think you're going to get away from the ethical standards or the deviant personalities." Blair smiled encouragingly, even as he tried to get this guy to see that changing fields wasn't going to fix whatever screw he had loose in his life. It would, however, force him to take a bunch of undergrad classes that he was probably not going to enjoy.
Riley cocked his head and really studied Blair for a long second before carefully composing an answer. "I just want to study societies, not individuals."
Oh yeah, he was waiting for Blair to make an argument so he could counter it. Man, maybe it was built into soldiers to turn every conversation into a fucking contest of wills, but this guy was enough like Jim to drive Blair right up a wall. He rolled his wheelchair forward an inch.
"Why?"
Riley blinked in surprise. Yep, just like Jim, he acted surprised when someone wanted to truly listen to his ideas. And if he was really like Jim, he was about to totally shut down and demand that Blair just sign the paperwork where it required an advisor's signature. Thankfully, the wheelchair was a great defense against getting bullied, so Blair didn't expect this one to slam him up against a wall the way Jim had.
Riley leaned back in his chair and studied Blair for several long seconds. "Why are you in a wheelchair?" he asked. Okay, that was a surprise, but a non sequitur was just as much of a non-answer as Jim's favorite—the clenched jaw. Although, to be fair, Jim had mellowed in his middle age.
Blair shrugged. "A woman on a cell phone hit some ice and slammed into me in the middle of an intersection."
Blair wasn't bothered by the details of that accident. If anything, he was grateful that his injury had helped to repair the damage between him and Jim over months of misunderstandings and pain that had followed his outing himself. He could live with Jim's lack of lust, but the idea that Jim didn't love him as a brother, as a human being—that had been slowly killing him. That was the gut shot that left Blair withering and slowing fading into a depression that he couldn't handle. The accident had forced a conversation that had repaired the damage done by ignorance and carelessness on both sides. Now the fact that Jim was not even a little bit gay was an open sore, but at least it wasn't a fatal one. All in all, Blair sometimes thought he had traded two good legs for one great friendship, and that was a trade that he was happy to make.
"Most people avoid that topic, I assume you're going for a point."
Riley leaned forward. "I am. Why does our society value convenience so much that someone would be on a cellphone when driving? I can't believe the woman was evil. I can't believe that an individual carries all the blame when an entire society forms a set of rules, and that individual lives by them without questioning the ultimate consequences. So what I want to know is how does one culture decide to value tradition, and another progress?"
"Gemeinschaft and gesellschaft," Blair echoed softly, shocked at the flow of words. Clearly Riley and Jim were not the same. Riley nodded his head, not even shielding the confusion and pain for one second before he looked away and shook his head and a wry expression replaced the raw emotion.
"Exactly. I see things going wrong. I see good men and women getting caught up in something so big that they can't seem to disengage long enough to really evaluate their own action. What I want to know is why a culture allows that to happen."
"Oh man, figure that out, and they're going to be throwing Nobel Prizes at you," Blair pointed out. Riley smiled and gave a half shrug.
"I know. I know it's impossible to understand..." His voice faded, and Blair understood that Riley wasn't searching for some esoteric truth; he wanted to understand something that had gone horribly wrong in his own life. It wasn't the best reason to get into an academic field, but it wasn't the worst, either.
"Hey, buy me a cup of coffee, and we can talk about specializations and see if we can minimize your time in with the undergrads," Blair offered.
Riley looked up, and for a half-second, Blair could again see pain etched deep. However, Riley covered that with a boyish smile. "You bet, prof. One cup of coffee coming up."
He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder before heading for the door. Pushing his chair after the other man, Blair wondered if all soldiers came out with such deeply hidden damage or if the damaged ones just somehow gravitated to him. Either way, he should call Jim and let him know he was going to be late getting to the station—Blair had a feeling that this one wasn't going to be rushed into telling his stories, and Blair had an equally strong feeling that he really wanted to know what Riley was hiding behind his smile.
~ ~ ~
Jim stirred the chili and watched Blair who was leaning against the cluttered table. His bad leg was stuck out awkwardly so he wasn't actually putting any weight on it, and Jim wanted to go lean playfully into Blair, shoulder bump him until he worked the weak leg. However, he wouldn't do that in front of Blair's company.
"That pattern of confirmed racial profiling... whoa!" The need to brace himself on the table kept Blair from gesturing with his hands, but his eyes still lit up with that weird sort of glee he got when someone showed him really exciting anthropology. Jim smiled at his partner and almost made a nerd joke, but Riley looked equally excited, and he was clearly not a nerd. Jim never thought he'd miss the parade of dweebs that he had learned to tune out as they sat in the living room and went off on some ridiculous conversation in a bizarre attempt to impress Blair. Jim wasn't sure that Blair even understood that many of the men and women who followed him home smelled of desire and nervousness. Riley, however, was different. One look, and Jim's instincts screamed to life.
"Man, this is incredible. We so need to publish this." Blair gave a half-hop, half-shuffle to the side to look at the multicolored maps from a new angle. "How sure are you on your estimates?"
Riley turned a chair around so the back faced the table. Sitting straddle, he leaned his arms on the back of the chair and looked at the work he had carefully laid out. "I don't know, but I figure we'll know in five or ten years."
"We can publish with this. But if your projections are wrong, that is so going to be hard to live down."
"I'll take the risk," Riley said, and from his smile, he was proud that Blair had found his work worthy. In reality, Jim suspected that the work was more than worthy. Blair hadn't ever talked about a student the way he raved about Riley. It reminded Jim of the way Blair had once been so excited by every Sentinel test, and Jim struggled to shove aside that ugly bit of jealousy. He'd always insisted that Blair had to have a life—that he not tie himself to some worn-out cop with issues. And now that it looked like there was some growing spark of interest, he could feel a nasty urge to smother it and cling to Blair. Jim stirred the chili so fast that it sloshed up the side and beans spilled over and tumbled down onto the white stovetop.
"Oh man, Jim, you have to come look at this. This could totally change the way departments approach racial profiling problems. This is..." Blair sat down in his wheel chair, finally freeing his hands to gesture grandly. "This is incredible. This is closer to a dissertation than a Master's thesis."
"It is my second time getting a Master's," Riley pointed out, but a hint of a smile lingered. Jim moved to a point just behind Blair, resting his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"So, I assume all those squiggles mean something," Jim said.
Blair rolled his eyes and backhanded Jim in the stomach.
"Watch it—I'd hate to have to take you in for assaulting a police officer, pipsqueak." Jim ruffled Blair's curls. He'd gone through a short hair phase, but now he was starting to let it grow, and the curls reached just to the edge of his jaw—long enough to get good and tangled.
"Ignore the Neanderthal," Blair told Riley. "He actually does have a degree and a brain, but he likes to pretend he's the muscle around here. It makes him feel all full of testosterone. However, if you want to really convince police captains and officials to use your projections, we're going to have to find a way to make this way easier to follow." Blair's voice turned thoughtful, and Jim could almost see the wheels turning in his brain. After years of being a part-time police consultant, Blair was the perfect person to translate geek speak into something the police could use, so Jim didn't doubt he'd come up with something brilliant. Hell, Riley would probably do fine on his own. And boy didn't Jim hate admitting that?
"If this really can help departments target potential profiling, it's a good thing," Jim offered. Riley looked up and gave a quick nod. Jim gave a quick nod in return and then headed back to his chili. It was funny; in a lot of ways, Jim understood Riley better than he did Blair. Riley was a military man through and through, and Jim understood his silences and his expressions. Jim even respected Riley's intelligence, but he just couldn't bring himself to like Riley.
On the other hand, he couldn't bring himself to dislike him, either. Oh, he had reason to dislike Riley. When the twinges of jealousy had first appeared, Jim hadn't been able to really put his finger on why he felt that way. The first time Blair had invited his new pet project home, he'd made it more than clear that Riley would be back out the door in two seconds if he didn't meet Jim's approval. Even now, Jim had no doubts about Blair's loyalty.
Instead of using his cane, Blair wheeled his chair around to Riley's side of the table as they talked about where to publish. The fact was that Riley had a more academic bent than Jim—he couldn't deny that. Jim had gotten through school without trouble, but the idea of earning two Master's and then going for a doctorate left him wanting to grab a fishing pole and disappear into the mountains. Riley, however, was almost as excited about all this as Blair. But that didn't make Jim jealous—it just made him doubt Riley's sanity.
And Jim had surprised even himself when he'd looked at Riley's military record. A friend had pulled a few strings, but even the string pulling only got Jim a record that looked like Swiss cheese. Riley had more blacked out periods on his military service than Jim, which meant he'd been pretty deep into the covert ops. In the past, that might have sent up some serious red flags, but Jim's senses worked their best with Blair around to center him, and Blair's disability would keep anyone from looking at them twice. Instead, as Jim looked at the long redacted sections, he realized that Riley could probably handle himself, even around some of the weird shit Blair tended to attract. Besides, for a man to be in covert ops that deep for that long, he must have a spotless psychological profile. Jim didn't mind that tacit stamp of mental good health.
For a while, Jim actually thought it might be Riley's physical qualities inspiring the jealousy. Looking at Riley, Jim could honestly admit that most people would call Riley 'cuter'; however, Jim thought he would probably be called more classically handsome. In terms of fitness, Jim assumed they would have a draw in most contests, so that wasn't it.
For weeks, Jim had struggled to identify the source of this discomfort he felt whenever Blair brought Riley over to discuss his work or the research they were doing on patterns of criminal behavior. With the chair, it really was easier for Blair to meet him at the loft where the bathroom was set up for him and the tables were the right height for his chair. However, Blair always kept Riley away during those times that were Jim's. Riley never came over during a Jag's game, or when Blair had papers to grade. Jim would prop the pillows at the end of the couch, and Blair would lay with his feet on Jim's leg as he ripped through essays with a red pen.
It took Jim a while to figure it out. Part of the problem was that Jim always filtered out a certain level of desire, a baseline of pheromones that Blair just constantly leaked. At one point, Jim had accused Blair of being so horny he'd do a table leg, but he'd eventually figured out that Blair would rather do him. As an open-minded heterosexual male... or asexual male because Jim just did not have the energy for that type of relationship anymore... he could respect that Blair had a right to lust after him. As long as it didn't hurt Blair, Jim could even encourage a little lust. In a way, it was a compliment that someone was still attracted to him. But once he'd started paying attention to those pheromones, Jim had finally figured it out.
Blair's lust wasn't surprising and Jim found it didn't particularly bother him. Hell, Riley's own military background and many of his mannerisms were close enough to Jim's own, that Jim would have chalked up any Blair lust to some sort of extension of his desire for Jim. Even more importantly, Blair would cut off his good leg before he would ever get involved with a student, so there wasn't any cause for jealousy there.
Nope, Jim found himself jealous for a whole different reason. He was jealous of Riley because Riley was attracted to Blair. Oh, he might be in denial because the man never gave any outward sign, but when Blair would get really excited and throw his hands around, Jim could smell the subtle shift. Riley was attracted to Blair's enthusiasm, his intelligence, his occasionally nasty sense of humor. Some part of Riley wanted Blair, and Jim was intensely jealous of that.
Jim wanted to lust after Blair. He wanted to look at Blair and feel that deep longing for something physical. He wanted to give back to Blair the same depth of love that Blair offered him. Yes, he loved Blair with all his heart, but he always felt like he was cheating Blair by not loving him with his body. Jim envied Riley's ability to feel even a kernel of desire, because with even that much physical attraction, Jim would be able to give Blair something he needed.
"Earth to Jim!" Jim shook his head and looked up. Blair had already covered half the distance to the kitchen, hopping on his good leg and dragging his stubborn foot. Riley was looking away, clearly offering them the sort of privacy soldiers offered each other in barracks and in tight quarters when it wasn't possible to give more. And the chili was burning.
"Sorry, just daydreaming." Jim gave Blair a reassuring smile. It hadn't been a zone, but from Blair's worried frown, he thought it had been. "You two bored me into a daze with all your talk," Jim teased. That seemed to ease some of Blair's worry because he shuffled back to the table, even remembering to try and use his weak side.
"Whatever," Blair said dismissively. "Go on, play dumb. You know, one of these days, Simon is going to see right through that and he's going to put you up for the captaincy."
"All the more reason to play dumb," Jim pointed out as he ladled out chili. The burnt smell was so faint that he was fairly sure only he could smell it.
"So, not interested in a promotion?" Riley asked, finally looking back at them since the need for any privacy had passed.
"I don't need the stress," Jim said firmly. He put the bowls at the end of the counter, silently requesting Riley to assist. Riley took the hint, the way Jim knew he would, leaving Jim free to gather up the crackers and shredded cheese and the green onions he'd chopped earlier.
"Command is not always the best place to be," Riley agreed. Jim studied the man, and put one more piece of the puzzle into place.
"I wouldn't know." Jim reached the table and arranged the fixings as Riley put the bowls out. "By the time I had my own team, my commander betrayed us to a local drug lord, and the chopper was shot down. I lost my first team before boots were on the ground." Jim sat down and watched Riley. If Riley could be a better man that he was—if Riley could actually love Blair as more than a brother—maybe it was time to see just how far Jim could trust him with their family secrets. Blair looked at him with shock and confusion, but Jim focused on Riley.
His words had caught Riley just before he sat, and for a second, Riley looked like someone had hit the pause button halfway through his attempt to sit. Then he lowered himself into the chair. "I had a commander like that. One of her own men actually took her out, but not before there was a lot of friendly fire."
Jim nodded. "So, Chief, why don't you explain this brilliant new idea and I'll poke holes in it until you two can get it waterproof."
Blair slowly smiled. For Blair, Jim would actually pay attention to the data and help them see it through a police officer's eyes, and for Blair, Jim would let someone else in close enough to fall in love. Jim just wasn't sure that Riley would be the man. After all, the first soldier who loved Blair hadn't been good enough to find a way to love him completely. Of all the shitty things he'd done in his life, Jim regretted that one the most. Hopefully Riley would prove to be the better man in more ways than one.
~ ~ ~
Blair pushed himself up out of his chair and hopped to the edge of his desk. His leg ached dully, but Blair had been pushing himself too hard today. He'd been trying hard to pace. Jim would probably just smile at how much weight Blair was putting on his bad leg. So would Blair's physical therapist.
But Blair had to face reality. His leg had improved to a certain point, and he knew how damn lucky he was because he could get out of the chair and transfer. He could stand for short periods of time and bear some weight. However, months of pain and physical therapy and Jim rubbing his leg every night, Blair had accepted that he wasn't going to improve any more. He didn't have some trump card to play or any secret powers. Nope, he'd been luckier than most, and he could keep hitting his head against the wall that was called physical therapy instead of its more proper term—physical torture—or he could accept reality.
When he was younger, he so would have kept pounding his head against the wall. He'd inherited more than a little of Naomi's idealism. But Blair would have been miserable every time his muscles spasmed, and he would have hated himself for failing every time he couldn't push more weight. He would have blamed himself, and that was a fool's game. His leg wasn't his fault and no amount of positive thinking or sage or just pushing through the pain could change certain physical realities. Nope, he'd do the best he had with the cards he'd been dealt. And life hadn't dealt him any trump cards. Or if it had, he'd played them. And besides, it wasn't like his life was bad.
A little part of Blair felt like a giant hypocrite. He had a roommate who loved him like a brother, he had two jobs he loved, he had published two anthropology books, and Riley's work was looking good enough that they could probably co-author another. He should be on top of the fucking world. He should be burning incense and thanking the universe. He should show a little gratitude.
But he couldn't. It was bad enough falling in love with Jim, but now he'd done it again. Twice he'd managed to fall for men so straight the math department could use them as fucking rulers. Obviously, Blair needed more therapy. Either that, or he needed to go back to women. His track record with women sucked and he pissed them off before getting to third base at least half the time, but at least they generally liked him. They thought he was cute.
Pushing off from the desk, Blair did a single hop, did a half step on his bad side, and twisted so he'd land in his chair. Of course he landed wrong and poked himself in the kidney with one of the armrests, but that wasn't even surprising given his day.
Yep, it was time to admit defeat. He'd tried ignoring his feelings. He'd tried reminding himself that a teacher who had any sort of sexual feelings for a student was way into ethically creepy territory. He'd tried just focusing on the work they were doing together. Riley had great ideas, and his military background and psychology training gave him a perspective on anthropology that Blair loved. A lot of times, Blair was alone in his love for applied science. Or if other anthropologists did want to do applied work, they wanted to investigate the disappearing cultures of the world. Riley was someone who shared his love for the law-enforcement community. They'd done really exciting work.
But he couldn't keep doing it. It was like his leg. He'd tried and tried and tried, and now it was time to admit defeat.
Blair got up out of his chair and hobbled to his desk. He was going to be asking Jim for a massage tonight, but he just couldn't totally repress his need to pace. Riley was going....
The knock at the door made Blair's stomach clench. He had to do this. It wasn't like this hurt as much as when he thought he'd lost Jim. That had ripped his fucking heart out. This was just... it was poking a big hole through it. He'd survive.
"Come in," Blair called. Riley walked in, a frown pulled his eyebrows down as he stared down at the papers in his hand. It was probably more data from their field trip to New Orleans.
"I think I found...."
"We need to talk," Blair interrupted Riley. Riley looked up in surprise. For a second, Blair almost expected Riley to demand answers. Sometimes Riley and Jim were so similar that the wondered if maybe his libido wasn't confusing them and running after the first cute soldier to cross his path. Of course, the alternative was also possible—he was a masochist. He was a masochist with a kink for getting shot down. But Riley wasn't Jim. While Jim would have demanded answers, Riley waited in silence with a quizzical expression on his face.
"Blair?" Riley eventually asked.
"Oh man. Okay, this is totally not about you, but I am in way over my head. I mean, between teaching and my work at the PD and this article I have due, I am totally feeling overwhelmed. Like with the leg, I just have to know my limits." Blair smiled and patted his bad leg. "It's tiring, you know?" Blair tried to keep his voice light and carefree, but Riley's frown deepened.
"Blair, we have most of the legwork done already."
"I really do think you're ready to go. Dr. Copperly is willing to look over your final numbers, but I'm going to have to back out of my commitment to you. You have no idea how sorry I am, but I can't things slide at the university or down at the PD."
Riley closed the file that had his papers. "You're too busy to work on this?" he asked.
Blair gave a helpless shrug. "I really wish I could work with you on that, but I am so just not doing okay." Blair obfuscated his ass off. He wasn't lying about anything, but he sure as hell wasn't about to tell Riley why he was overwhelmed with the idea of working with him. There was masochism and then there was just flat out stupidity. Blair was not about to be stupid enough to ruin any chance they had to work together once Blair got over this stupid-ass crush. God, he was an idiot.
"Anyway," Blair continued, "my leg is killing me. Man, I am going to be begging Jim for some massage tonight. Sometimes living with a former medic is a total advantage, even if he is a neat-freak with tofu issues. So, I left Dr. Copperly's office number with my secretary, and she has copies of all my notes. I am not holding anything back because you totally deserve the credit for this whole study." Blair settled himself in his chair, and only then did he realize that he truly was physically exhausted. He started pushing himself toward the door.
"Would you like a hand?" Riley asked.
Blair closed his eyes. Okay, that was why he totally kept getting his libido all tangled up. Cops and soldiers were supposed to be stoic and unemotional or they were supposed to be testosterone-drive assholes. Instead, Jim and Riley cared so much and they were such ethical men that Blair just couldn't help but fall for them. He didn't understand why they weren't both happily married and getting all emotional over little girls and ballet recitals.
"Nah," Blair told Riley. "I have it. The truth is, I should be working my weak side harder anyway, so a little extra effort just makes me feel less guilty about skipping out on physical therapy. So, you're welcome to use my office. Just make sure the door is closed when you leave." Blair smiled and wheeled himself past Riley Finn. Damn. Life hated him.
He got all the way to the van before his eyes started to sting. While Blair normally appreciated Naomi's mothering skills, there was a part of him that resented that she had never taught him the stoic skills that allowed Jim and Riley to talk about dead friends with only flashes of emotion slipping through like lightning in a thunderstorm. Blair's first tears slipped down as he used the lift to get his chair up and into the van. He had no idea if he was crying out of frustration or loss, but he sure and hell couldn't go home until he got himself under control. He'd set off every Blessed Protector nerve Jim owned, and Blair didn't want to set Jim against Riley. They had some sort of strange soldier-camaraderie going.
Blair was exhausted when he finally rolled off the elevator. The loft door was the last obstacle, but Blair ached at the thought of it. Normally he braced himself with his good leg and leaned forward to work the lock, but his fingers were trembling with emotion, and his lower back ached from his earlier pacing and his three hour drive through the suburbs of Cascade where kids chased each other down sidewalks. Blair hadn't hurt this much since last time he went to physical therapy.
Staring morosely at the locked door, Blair started digging in the small pouch that hung on the inside of his armrest on his good side.
"Blair?" Jim opened the door and looked at him with some confusion. The worst part about living with a Sentinel was that they always knew when you'd had the shitty day from hell. And the second Blair saw Jim's face, he knew that he'd done a pretty sucky job of hiding his distress.
"Man, I do not want to talk about it," Blair said, rolling forward. Jim reached out and caught one of the handgrips to give Blair a push. With a sigh, Blair abandoned any pretense of control and let Jim push him inside and close the loft door.
"Bad day?" Jim asked, pushing Blair over to the couch. He locked the wheels on Blair's chair and then offered his arm. Normally Blair could transfer in and out of the chair easily, but his bad leg was on the verge of a spasm, and his good one ached with exhaustion. Reaching out, Blair locked his hands around Jim's arm and shoulder and used his friend to swing his body around and onto the couch.
"Yes."
Sometimes it drove Blair crazy when Jim wouldn't talk, but the upside was that he didn't push others to talk either... not unless they were suspects and Jim wanted information.
"I'll get the Ben Gay." Jim turned and headed for the bathroom. At the end of the couch, he paused at the table, picked up the TV remote, and tossed it onto the cushion next to Blair. Yeah, he'd had a rough day. He'd given up something he wanted, but he definitely still had what he needed. Blair wouldn't trade his life with Jim in for anyone. He sure as hell wouldn't trade it for some totally heterosexual student. Nope. Blair was happy; he just needed to focus on all the parts of his life that did make him happy.
"Hey, did you see the Jags traded for Atkinson?" Blair yelled.
"Yeah, I caught that," Jim yelled back. "Sandburg, where the hell did you leave the Ben Gay?"
"I don't know. Try the bedside table." Blair flicked on the television.
"If you'd keep your shit in the same place, you might be able to find it." Jim was sounding a little cranky.
"Yeah, yeah. If I'm ever that anal retentive, I hope someone shoots me and puts me out of my misery."
Jim came out of Blair's bedroom with a tube in his hand. "With your luck, you shouldn't be joking about that.
"Whatever." Blair smiled. Yep, life wasn't bad at all.
~ ~ ~
"Finn in there?" Jim asked Karla. Blair always said that his accident had two upsides: good parking and Karla. The university hired her to work part-time just for Blair, transcribing his notes since his one hand didn't function as well with very precise tasks like typing. Jim thought that it was a pretty poor trade considering how the chair limited Blair's life, but that was Blair—always looking for the bright side.
"Yep," Karla agreed. She leaned back in her chair and looked him up and down with a sharp-eyed speculation. "So, are you about to do something Blair is going to kill you over?"
"Could be," Jim agreed. Luckily, he also trusted Karla to not tell Blair that he'd lured Riley Finn to the office. Karla understood that sometimes Blair didn't take care of himself and he needed a little push to get back on track. Sometimes that meant Jim brought him lunch, and sometimes it meant dragging him out of his wheelchair for a swim in the campus pool before all his muscles cramped up. This time it meant verbally kicking a little ass.
"I'll go to your funeral," Karla promised, "and I'm on break." Standing up, she grabbed her purse and made a show out of leaving the front area. Blair had the first office and the other professors weren't actually in their offices often. That gave Jim and Riley Finn a little privacy.
Jim walked over and pushed Blair's office door open.
"Jim!" Riley sat up on the couch and dropped his legal pad on the cushion next to him. "I thought Blair was coming."
"He's at home nursing a bad mood," Jim answered honestly enough. He didn't mention that Blair would be in a worse mood if he found out about Jim's plan. Hopefully this would work or Jim could just kill Riley and hide the body. Either would be a tactical success.
"Jim, did I do something that's made him uncomfortable working with me?" Riley stood up and asked the question with such an honest openness that Jim was caught off guard. The short answer was 'yes,' but Riley would misunderstand that. Damn it. Blair had better understand how much Jim loved him because Jim would pretty much cut off an arm to avoid this conversation.
"Sit down," Jim said, gesturing toward the couch. Riley slowly sank, watching Jim cautiously—the way you might watch an unstable commanding officer. It was a little amusing considering that Riley had left the military a major, one rank above Jim.
Jim rubbed his hand over his face and figured it was probably best to just get this over with. "Blair thinks that the only ethical solution to his current problem is to cut off all contact with you, particularly as a student."
"He... what?" Riley's voice went up and his eyes dilated—two clear signs of distress, and two confirmations that Jim was right that the feelings were mutual. Riley was probably silently nursing his own version of a bad mood, even if he hid it better than Blair who wrapped himself in every emotion like a well-worn coat.
Fuck. Jim really hated this. He rubbed his face again. "He likes you, Finn. You're his student, and he likes you which puts him in an ethical dilemma. Worse, he's under the impression that you aren't attracted to him, so he thinks you're going to have some sort of heterosexual horror if you find out he's attracted." This was either going to put these two on the right path, or Jim was going to have to sign over his half of the loft and run for the hills before Blair found out what he'd done. Shit. And he was the one who always complained about Naomi's meddling. He was starting to have a little more sympathy for her because Blair invited meddling by always putting his own needs last on the priority list.
Jim wanted some sort of reaction, but Riley just blinked up at him like his brain had gotten stuck somewhere in the middle of that revelation. "He likes me?"
"Shocking, isn't it?" Jim asked with a bit more rancor than he probably needed.
"I was going to say ironic," Riley said with a slight smile that did not make Jim feel any better about this whole mess. "Trust me, I know how bad teacher-student relationships can get, and I have a whole lot of respect for Blair for not doing something unethical. He's a better man than I am in a lot of ways." The grimace suggested that Riley had his own story of questionable ethics. "But Jim, this doesn't mean we can't work together."
Jim clenched his fists and tried very hard to remind himself that it would be hard to sneak a body out of the building in the middle of the day. Not impossible, but hard. "You can't ask him to work with you when he has feelings for you." Jim tried very hard to ignore his own bit of dark irony. Hell, he asked Blair to live with him, to love him, to call him family... and yet Jim couldn't find Blair sexually attractive. "You either need to decide if you can man up to your own feelings for him or you need to get out of his life so he can heal."
Riley chewed on his lip and seemed to be collecting his thoughts, so Jim leaned back against the wall and waited for whatever stupid thing the man was about to say. Jim could almost smell the coming stupidity.
"You don't want me being interested in Blair... not like that." The pain on Riley's face made Jim hesitate, but it wasn't like he didn't already know that Riley carried baggage. Hell, Blair seemed to have a kink for baggage because he certainly fell for guys who had it in spades.
"Of course I don't," Jim said loudly. "Do you think I want this for him? I want him to fall for some college professor who will encourage him to have a nice boring life and go to physical therapy a little more often. I want to go to bed at night knowing that he's not going to get a gun shoved in his face tomorrow. Between following me out to scenes to profile for the department and you hauling him out to New Orleans—"
"I never—" Riley started to say.
Jim threw his hands up in the air in disgust. "You took him to study the patterns of racial profiling and police corruption. You and I both know that the only thing more dangerous than bad guys are the good guys who've lost their moral compass, and that's what you hauled him down to investigate—an entire city full of police who had lost their moral compasses. I'm only starting to get over the ulcers I got while you were gone. And part of me appreciates that you respect him enough to know that chair is not going to stop him from doing dangerous work, and part of me wants to beat the holy shit out of you."
"Jim..." Riley was clearly ready to defend his choices, but Jim did not want to go there. He already knew Riley was right, which is why he'd stood in the airport and watched them get on a plane when his stomach was tied in knots. Riley could have his moral victory on the work front, but he was still acting like an ass when it came to the relationship.
"Save it, Finn," Jim cut him off. "Right now I'm trying hard to not seriously hate your guts because I wish I could give him what he wants, but I can't. I'm not attracted to him. But you are. I know it." Jim took a step forward, struggling with his own anger and guilt and hot need to fix this for Blair—to keep anyone else from hurting Blair the way Jim had. "But if you're going to start lying to yourself or to me or, god help you, to Blair, just let me know, and I am very capable of hating you. In fact, I might suggest that you'd be wise to get your degree and find some other police department to study because there will be a long line of people hating you if I tell them that you turned your back on Blair."
"I'm not turning my back." Riley was angry now—angry and defensive.
"No. You're just letting him turn his back."
"That's his choice."
"No. It isn't. He's trying to take the high road here and not pressure you. He thinks you aren't attracted to him, but you and I both know that's a lie." Jim watched as his words sunk into Riley. He could see the flash of panic, the need for denial, he was even pretty sure Riley was trying to decide whether or not Jim was about to throw a punch.
"I never—"
"You never said it. You never gave him one fucking clue, but that doesn't make it less true."
Riley seemed to pull back into himself, the anger evaporating and something that looked like panic taking its place. "I have never dated men."
"Bully for you, Finn. Do you want a fucking medal? Do you think that's something to brag about? I'd date him in a second if I could make myself feel just one bit of attraction, but I can't. However, he leans over a table and gets excited by some pretty piece of data you dug up, and you go leaking pheromones, so don't play games. It makes you look stupid."
The growing anger fell away as Riley stared at him in shock. "You can smell pheromones?"
Jim could feel his jaw muscle ache. This was part of his life he still hated sharing, even after he'd admitted to the brass that he had enhanced smell and hearing. However, if he wanted Blair to have a full and complete life—including someone who could love him—that meant Jim had to let someone past his knee-jerk reaction. And the fact was that Jim did respect Riley. The man kept his confidences and the covert work he'd done hadn't soured him on the world. He still had this odd idealism that Jim associated more with men like Blair than he did with any covert ops soldiers he'd known. Jim took a deep breath and ordered himself to stop acting like an asshole, because it looked like Riley might be willing to at least consider the possibility of a future with Blair.
"I did mention that Blair wrote a book on people who have one or two hyperactive senses. Mine is smell. So yes, I can smell pheromones."
Riley ran a hand over his face and sighed out a soft curse. "Damn."
"Do you plan to deny it?"
"No. I mean, yes, I am attracted to him, but it's not that simple." Riley looked up, and the expression wasn't defensive—it was fearful.
"It never is, Finn. The gender doesn't make it any less complicated. And you know, I'm a fucking hypocrite because you sure as hell don't see me out there risking myself. But if you let Blair walk away, you're a real ass." Jim walked over and grabbed Riley's papers, tossing them onto the end table so he could sit on the couch. He was too old and too fucking tired for this conversation. Maybe Riley felt the same way because for long minutes, they just sat in silence.
Eventually, Riley spoke up. "I'm not exactly good with relationships."
"None of us are. And that includes Blair. Look at the assholes he keeps falling for."
Riley gave a dark laugh. "His taste in men sucks."
"Yeah, it does. Sadly, it's actually better than his taste in women. The last two women he really fell hard for both just about got him killed. Hell, he even came inches from being sentenced as a drug runner in Canada once. Simon's fast-talking and some lucky footage on a security camera saved him."
Riley looked at him with horror and more than a little confusion.
"It's a long story," Jim left it at. "I'm just saying we all suck at relationships, Finn."
"More than you know, Jim. The last two women I loved, I betrayed both of them."
Jim frowned at that. True, sometimes he didn't exactly have warm, fuzzy feelings for Riley, but he would never suspect the man would ever betray someone. Jim's guts clenched. He had issues with betrayal.
"I got stupid trying to keep up with a woman who was twice the soldier I ever was." Riley gave another dark laugh before he rubbed his eyes.
Jim was shocked. There weren't many women in covert ops, so either she was a specialist attached to their unit, or she'd been quite the woman to actually get accepted into covert ops--a field where women technically didn't serve. "She survive?" Jim asked.
Riley's laugh was dark and full of self-hatred. "Yeah, she was tough. Too tough for it to make any difference that I was too screwed up to provide any support."
Jim sat next to Riley and considered this new twist. Things might not have been as simple as Riley suggested—Sarris' daughter would say Jim had betrayed her father and the whole team who had died in Peru. In battle, sometimes it wasn't as easy as supporting your team. Sometimes reality got in the way. "The second woman?" Jim asked cautiously. He wanted to give Riley the benefit of the doubt.
Riley made an unhappy noise. "She wanted to save the world. She volunteered with one of those charities that send people around the world when she ended up in the middle of..." Riley let his voice trail off, but Jim could fill in the blanks. Military action meant refugees and that meant charity workers who often did end up in the middle of the battlefield. Riley took a deep breath. "She really proved herself when some things went down, and she joined my unit. She was good, but she always had to be better, faster, more accurate, more alert. She went in the field when she had no business even holding a weapon." Leaning back on the couch, Riley ran both hands through his hair and then stared at the ceiling. He didn't need to finish the story, though, because Jim had seen it often enough. Put people in stressful situations, and they'd search for something to give them an edge.
"Pills?"
Riley nodded. "I tried to get her off them. When I couldn't, I had to turn her in before she got someone killed, but we were more than just teammates, and she--" Riley stopped.
Jim flinched. He could just imagine how that would tear a unit apart. Soldiers stood together, they watched each others' backs. But an officer couldn't allow that sort of dangerous behavior in the field. It was a no-win situation. Some days Jim was thankful that his own career had been derailed by Peru.
"Wait." Jim sat up. "This was someone you were involved with? In your unit?"
For heavy seconds, Riley didn't answer, and Jim could feel his own growing horror. When Riley did answer, it was little more than a whisper. "She was my wife. The higher-ups cut us a little slack on the regs. We dealt with unique situations." Riley kept staring at the ceiling.
Jim had been through the misery of conflicts within a unit, and he'd been through a miserable divorce, but he would have seriously considered eating his gun if he'd had to deal with both at the same time. Riley had as much reason to be gun-shy around relationships as he did.
"Well, fuck," Jim said softly.
Riley answered with another dark laugh.
"Blair really does have horrible taste in men." Jim sighed.
"I do care about Blair, but I'm not sure he really needs to deal with this baggage."
"Blair's good with baggage," Jim said with more than a little disgust. He almost wished this would drive Blair away, but if Blair was willing to deal with all the shit Jim had hauled into their friendship, Riley's baggage wasn't going to be a blip on the radar.
"He wouldn't want to deal with this much. I have a horrible track record with relationships, and before Blair, I never felt any sort of attraction for men. Not after high school anyway." Riley looked at Jim like he was begging for permission to ignore his feelings. No fucking way was Jim going there.
"He'd want to deal with it," Jim said. "He'd listen and tell you it wasn't your fault, and forgive you. He'd never really understand, but he'd forgive you with his whole heart."
"I'm not sure I'm ready for that," Riley said softly.
"Then tell Blair that. Tell him you're too fucked up to pursue something, but that you are attracted to him. Don't let him think that you don't care about him." Jim stood up and sighed. Nothing was easy when it came to Blair. "Don't let him think you're one more person that just can't love him."
Riley stared at him for a long time before he nodded. "I'll talk to him."
Jim nodded and headed for the door. There really wasn't anything else to say.
Keep Reading....
Blair is teaching, and a new student brings a new hope for love and a new opportunity for envy to raise its ugly head.
Title: Green-Eyed Hope
Genre: Slash
Rating: SAFE
Pairing: Blair/Riley
Blair watched the class wander out of the building in pairs and small groups. A few loners gathered papers and rearranged books, but no one looked particularly interested in hanging out with the professor. Blair couldn't blame them. Two weeks in, they were still covering the boring bits. Let him get into initiation ceremonies, and he'd have them eating out of his hand and hanging around after class to soak up the stories too X-rated for the class proper. It was just that with the wheelchair, students were a little slower to warm up to him. That was just one of the many joys of a disability, but considering all the good he had in his life, Blair was not about to complain.
One student seemed to linger a little too long. Riley. He was a post-grad student, one of Blair's advisees, but so far Blair hadn't seen much of him.
Rolling the chair over to that side of the room, Blair watched as Riley reordered his books for the third time. "Riley, right?" Blair asked. He ran his fingers over the hidden pocket on the side of his chair where he kept his cell phone, still a little nervous.
Last week, Riley had pinged Blair's radar so strongly that Blair thought the man might be a Sentinel. He had that same manner Jim and Alex had shared—the habit of scanning a room and allowing their eyes to wander away even during a conversation. It was like there was too much information swimming around them to ignore it for long. Jim, however, had insisted that he wasn't getting anything on his own radar, not even when, the following day, he cautiously sat in the seat Riley had chosen. Now Blair felt a little silly because he'd decided the guy was a soldier, which accounted for him pinging Blair's Jim radar. Well, that and he was cute. Cute and military always pinged Blair's radar.
"Yeah," he agreed. "You're a great lecturer."
"And you're full of shit. This intro stuff is boring no matter who presents it, but I'll knock your socks off later," Blair said with a smile. Riley smiled back, but the expression was guarded and small. "So, you're moving over to anthropology?" Blair asked. "I got a look at your records, and it looks like you have an impressive background in psychology, why the move?"
Riley shrugged and watched the last of the undergrads clear out of the room. Blair let him have his silence. Even if Blair didn't understand the need for awkward silences in a conversation, his years with Jim had taught him to just go with the flow on that front. Eventually Riley looked back toward him. "I just don't think I can deal with psychology anymore."
"Oh man, anthropology has just as much psychology, so don't think you're going to get away from the ethical standards or the deviant personalities." Blair smiled encouragingly, even as he tried to get this guy to see that changing fields wasn't going to fix whatever screw he had loose in his life. It would, however, force him to take a bunch of undergrad classes that he was probably not going to enjoy.
Riley cocked his head and really studied Blair for a long second before carefully composing an answer. "I just want to study societies, not individuals."
Oh yeah, he was waiting for Blair to make an argument so he could counter it. Man, maybe it was built into soldiers to turn every conversation into a fucking contest of wills, but this guy was enough like Jim to drive Blair right up a wall. He rolled his wheelchair forward an inch.
"Why?"
Riley blinked in surprise. Yep, just like Jim, he acted surprised when someone wanted to truly listen to his ideas. And if he was really like Jim, he was about to totally shut down and demand that Blair just sign the paperwork where it required an advisor's signature. Thankfully, the wheelchair was a great defense against getting bullied, so Blair didn't expect this one to slam him up against a wall the way Jim had.
Riley leaned back in his chair and studied Blair for several long seconds. "Why are you in a wheelchair?" he asked. Okay, that was a surprise, but a non sequitur was just as much of a non-answer as Jim's favorite—the clenched jaw. Although, to be fair, Jim had mellowed in his middle age.
Blair shrugged. "A woman on a cell phone hit some ice and slammed into me in the middle of an intersection."
Blair wasn't bothered by the details of that accident. If anything, he was grateful that his injury had helped to repair the damage between him and Jim over months of misunderstandings and pain that had followed his outing himself. He could live with Jim's lack of lust, but the idea that Jim didn't love him as a brother, as a human being—that had been slowly killing him. That was the gut shot that left Blair withering and slowing fading into a depression that he couldn't handle. The accident had forced a conversation that had repaired the damage done by ignorance and carelessness on both sides. Now the fact that Jim was not even a little bit gay was an open sore, but at least it wasn't a fatal one. All in all, Blair sometimes thought he had traded two good legs for one great friendship, and that was a trade that he was happy to make.
"Most people avoid that topic, I assume you're going for a point."
Riley leaned forward. "I am. Why does our society value convenience so much that someone would be on a cellphone when driving? I can't believe the woman was evil. I can't believe that an individual carries all the blame when an entire society forms a set of rules, and that individual lives by them without questioning the ultimate consequences. So what I want to know is how does one culture decide to value tradition, and another progress?"
"Gemeinschaft and gesellschaft," Blair echoed softly, shocked at the flow of words. Clearly Riley and Jim were not the same. Riley nodded his head, not even shielding the confusion and pain for one second before he looked away and shook his head and a wry expression replaced the raw emotion.
"Exactly. I see things going wrong. I see good men and women getting caught up in something so big that they can't seem to disengage long enough to really evaluate their own action. What I want to know is why a culture allows that to happen."
"Oh man, figure that out, and they're going to be throwing Nobel Prizes at you," Blair pointed out. Riley smiled and gave a half shrug.
"I know. I know it's impossible to understand..." His voice faded, and Blair understood that Riley wasn't searching for some esoteric truth; he wanted to understand something that had gone horribly wrong in his own life. It wasn't the best reason to get into an academic field, but it wasn't the worst, either.
"Hey, buy me a cup of coffee, and we can talk about specializations and see if we can minimize your time in with the undergrads," Blair offered.
Riley looked up, and for a half-second, Blair could again see pain etched deep. However, Riley covered that with a boyish smile. "You bet, prof. One cup of coffee coming up."
He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder before heading for the door. Pushing his chair after the other man, Blair wondered if all soldiers came out with such deeply hidden damage or if the damaged ones just somehow gravitated to him. Either way, he should call Jim and let him know he was going to be late getting to the station—Blair had a feeling that this one wasn't going to be rushed into telling his stories, and Blair had an equally strong feeling that he really wanted to know what Riley was hiding behind his smile.
~ ~ ~
Jim stirred the chili and watched Blair who was leaning against the cluttered table. His bad leg was stuck out awkwardly so he wasn't actually putting any weight on it, and Jim wanted to go lean playfully into Blair, shoulder bump him until he worked the weak leg. However, he wouldn't do that in front of Blair's company.
"That pattern of confirmed racial profiling... whoa!" The need to brace himself on the table kept Blair from gesturing with his hands, but his eyes still lit up with that weird sort of glee he got when someone showed him really exciting anthropology. Jim smiled at his partner and almost made a nerd joke, but Riley looked equally excited, and he was clearly not a nerd. Jim never thought he'd miss the parade of dweebs that he had learned to tune out as they sat in the living room and went off on some ridiculous conversation in a bizarre attempt to impress Blair. Jim wasn't sure that Blair even understood that many of the men and women who followed him home smelled of desire and nervousness. Riley, however, was different. One look, and Jim's instincts screamed to life.
"Man, this is incredible. We so need to publish this." Blair gave a half-hop, half-shuffle to the side to look at the multicolored maps from a new angle. "How sure are you on your estimates?"
Riley turned a chair around so the back faced the table. Sitting straddle, he leaned his arms on the back of the chair and looked at the work he had carefully laid out. "I don't know, but I figure we'll know in five or ten years."
"We can publish with this. But if your projections are wrong, that is so going to be hard to live down."
"I'll take the risk," Riley said, and from his smile, he was proud that Blair had found his work worthy. In reality, Jim suspected that the work was more than worthy. Blair hadn't ever talked about a student the way he raved about Riley. It reminded Jim of the way Blair had once been so excited by every Sentinel test, and Jim struggled to shove aside that ugly bit of jealousy. He'd always insisted that Blair had to have a life—that he not tie himself to some worn-out cop with issues. And now that it looked like there was some growing spark of interest, he could feel a nasty urge to smother it and cling to Blair. Jim stirred the chili so fast that it sloshed up the side and beans spilled over and tumbled down onto the white stovetop.
"Oh man, Jim, you have to come look at this. This could totally change the way departments approach racial profiling problems. This is..." Blair sat down in his wheel chair, finally freeing his hands to gesture grandly. "This is incredible. This is closer to a dissertation than a Master's thesis."
"It is my second time getting a Master's," Riley pointed out, but a hint of a smile lingered. Jim moved to a point just behind Blair, resting his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"So, I assume all those squiggles mean something," Jim said.
Blair rolled his eyes and backhanded Jim in the stomach.
"Watch it—I'd hate to have to take you in for assaulting a police officer, pipsqueak." Jim ruffled Blair's curls. He'd gone through a short hair phase, but now he was starting to let it grow, and the curls reached just to the edge of his jaw—long enough to get good and tangled.
"Ignore the Neanderthal," Blair told Riley. "He actually does have a degree and a brain, but he likes to pretend he's the muscle around here. It makes him feel all full of testosterone. However, if you want to really convince police captains and officials to use your projections, we're going to have to find a way to make this way easier to follow." Blair's voice turned thoughtful, and Jim could almost see the wheels turning in his brain. After years of being a part-time police consultant, Blair was the perfect person to translate geek speak into something the police could use, so Jim didn't doubt he'd come up with something brilliant. Hell, Riley would probably do fine on his own. And boy didn't Jim hate admitting that?
"If this really can help departments target potential profiling, it's a good thing," Jim offered. Riley looked up and gave a quick nod. Jim gave a quick nod in return and then headed back to his chili. It was funny; in a lot of ways, Jim understood Riley better than he did Blair. Riley was a military man through and through, and Jim understood his silences and his expressions. Jim even respected Riley's intelligence, but he just couldn't bring himself to like Riley.
On the other hand, he couldn't bring himself to dislike him, either. Oh, he had reason to dislike Riley. When the twinges of jealousy had first appeared, Jim hadn't been able to really put his finger on why he felt that way. The first time Blair had invited his new pet project home, he'd made it more than clear that Riley would be back out the door in two seconds if he didn't meet Jim's approval. Even now, Jim had no doubts about Blair's loyalty.
Instead of using his cane, Blair wheeled his chair around to Riley's side of the table as they talked about where to publish. The fact was that Riley had a more academic bent than Jim—he couldn't deny that. Jim had gotten through school without trouble, but the idea of earning two Master's and then going for a doctorate left him wanting to grab a fishing pole and disappear into the mountains. Riley, however, was almost as excited about all this as Blair. But that didn't make Jim jealous—it just made him doubt Riley's sanity.
And Jim had surprised even himself when he'd looked at Riley's military record. A friend had pulled a few strings, but even the string pulling only got Jim a record that looked like Swiss cheese. Riley had more blacked out periods on his military service than Jim, which meant he'd been pretty deep into the covert ops. In the past, that might have sent up some serious red flags, but Jim's senses worked their best with Blair around to center him, and Blair's disability would keep anyone from looking at them twice. Instead, as Jim looked at the long redacted sections, he realized that Riley could probably handle himself, even around some of the weird shit Blair tended to attract. Besides, for a man to be in covert ops that deep for that long, he must have a spotless psychological profile. Jim didn't mind that tacit stamp of mental good health.
For a while, Jim actually thought it might be Riley's physical qualities inspiring the jealousy. Looking at Riley, Jim could honestly admit that most people would call Riley 'cuter'; however, Jim thought he would probably be called more classically handsome. In terms of fitness, Jim assumed they would have a draw in most contests, so that wasn't it.
For weeks, Jim had struggled to identify the source of this discomfort he felt whenever Blair brought Riley over to discuss his work or the research they were doing on patterns of criminal behavior. With the chair, it really was easier for Blair to meet him at the loft where the bathroom was set up for him and the tables were the right height for his chair. However, Blair always kept Riley away during those times that were Jim's. Riley never came over during a Jag's game, or when Blair had papers to grade. Jim would prop the pillows at the end of the couch, and Blair would lay with his feet on Jim's leg as he ripped through essays with a red pen.
It took Jim a while to figure it out. Part of the problem was that Jim always filtered out a certain level of desire, a baseline of pheromones that Blair just constantly leaked. At one point, Jim had accused Blair of being so horny he'd do a table leg, but he'd eventually figured out that Blair would rather do him. As an open-minded heterosexual male... or asexual male because Jim just did not have the energy for that type of relationship anymore... he could respect that Blair had a right to lust after him. As long as it didn't hurt Blair, Jim could even encourage a little lust. In a way, it was a compliment that someone was still attracted to him. But once he'd started paying attention to those pheromones, Jim had finally figured it out.
Blair's lust wasn't surprising and Jim found it didn't particularly bother him. Hell, Riley's own military background and many of his mannerisms were close enough to Jim's own, that Jim would have chalked up any Blair lust to some sort of extension of his desire for Jim. Even more importantly, Blair would cut off his good leg before he would ever get involved with a student, so there wasn't any cause for jealousy there.
Nope, Jim found himself jealous for a whole different reason. He was jealous of Riley because Riley was attracted to Blair. Oh, he might be in denial because the man never gave any outward sign, but when Blair would get really excited and throw his hands around, Jim could smell the subtle shift. Riley was attracted to Blair's enthusiasm, his intelligence, his occasionally nasty sense of humor. Some part of Riley wanted Blair, and Jim was intensely jealous of that.
Jim wanted to lust after Blair. He wanted to look at Blair and feel that deep longing for something physical. He wanted to give back to Blair the same depth of love that Blair offered him. Yes, he loved Blair with all his heart, but he always felt like he was cheating Blair by not loving him with his body. Jim envied Riley's ability to feel even a kernel of desire, because with even that much physical attraction, Jim would be able to give Blair something he needed.
"Earth to Jim!" Jim shook his head and looked up. Blair had already covered half the distance to the kitchen, hopping on his good leg and dragging his stubborn foot. Riley was looking away, clearly offering them the sort of privacy soldiers offered each other in barracks and in tight quarters when it wasn't possible to give more. And the chili was burning.
"Sorry, just daydreaming." Jim gave Blair a reassuring smile. It hadn't been a zone, but from Blair's worried frown, he thought it had been. "You two bored me into a daze with all your talk," Jim teased. That seemed to ease some of Blair's worry because he shuffled back to the table, even remembering to try and use his weak side.
"Whatever," Blair said dismissively. "Go on, play dumb. You know, one of these days, Simon is going to see right through that and he's going to put you up for the captaincy."
"All the more reason to play dumb," Jim pointed out as he ladled out chili. The burnt smell was so faint that he was fairly sure only he could smell it.
"So, not interested in a promotion?" Riley asked, finally looking back at them since the need for any privacy had passed.
"I don't need the stress," Jim said firmly. He put the bowls at the end of the counter, silently requesting Riley to assist. Riley took the hint, the way Jim knew he would, leaving Jim free to gather up the crackers and shredded cheese and the green onions he'd chopped earlier.
"Command is not always the best place to be," Riley agreed. Jim studied the man, and put one more piece of the puzzle into place.
"I wouldn't know." Jim reached the table and arranged the fixings as Riley put the bowls out. "By the time I had my own team, my commander betrayed us to a local drug lord, and the chopper was shot down. I lost my first team before boots were on the ground." Jim sat down and watched Riley. If Riley could be a better man that he was—if Riley could actually love Blair as more than a brother—maybe it was time to see just how far Jim could trust him with their family secrets. Blair looked at him with shock and confusion, but Jim focused on Riley.
His words had caught Riley just before he sat, and for a second, Riley looked like someone had hit the pause button halfway through his attempt to sit. Then he lowered himself into the chair. "I had a commander like that. One of her own men actually took her out, but not before there was a lot of friendly fire."
Jim nodded. "So, Chief, why don't you explain this brilliant new idea and I'll poke holes in it until you two can get it waterproof."
Blair slowly smiled. For Blair, Jim would actually pay attention to the data and help them see it through a police officer's eyes, and for Blair, Jim would let someone else in close enough to fall in love. Jim just wasn't sure that Riley would be the man. After all, the first soldier who loved Blair hadn't been good enough to find a way to love him completely. Of all the shitty things he'd done in his life, Jim regretted that one the most. Hopefully Riley would prove to be the better man in more ways than one.
~ ~ ~
Blair pushed himself up out of his chair and hopped to the edge of his desk. His leg ached dully, but Blair had been pushing himself too hard today. He'd been trying hard to pace. Jim would probably just smile at how much weight Blair was putting on his bad leg. So would Blair's physical therapist.
But Blair had to face reality. His leg had improved to a certain point, and he knew how damn lucky he was because he could get out of the chair and transfer. He could stand for short periods of time and bear some weight. However, months of pain and physical therapy and Jim rubbing his leg every night, Blair had accepted that he wasn't going to improve any more. He didn't have some trump card to play or any secret powers. Nope, he'd been luckier than most, and he could keep hitting his head against the wall that was called physical therapy instead of its more proper term—physical torture—or he could accept reality.
When he was younger, he so would have kept pounding his head against the wall. He'd inherited more than a little of Naomi's idealism. But Blair would have been miserable every time his muscles spasmed, and he would have hated himself for failing every time he couldn't push more weight. He would have blamed himself, and that was a fool's game. His leg wasn't his fault and no amount of positive thinking or sage or just pushing through the pain could change certain physical realities. Nope, he'd do the best he had with the cards he'd been dealt. And life hadn't dealt him any trump cards. Or if it had, he'd played them. And besides, it wasn't like his life was bad.
A little part of Blair felt like a giant hypocrite. He had a roommate who loved him like a brother, he had two jobs he loved, he had published two anthropology books, and Riley's work was looking good enough that they could probably co-author another. He should be on top of the fucking world. He should be burning incense and thanking the universe. He should show a little gratitude.
But he couldn't. It was bad enough falling in love with Jim, but now he'd done it again. Twice he'd managed to fall for men so straight the math department could use them as fucking rulers. Obviously, Blair needed more therapy. Either that, or he needed to go back to women. His track record with women sucked and he pissed them off before getting to third base at least half the time, but at least they generally liked him. They thought he was cute.
Pushing off from the desk, Blair did a single hop, did a half step on his bad side, and twisted so he'd land in his chair. Of course he landed wrong and poked himself in the kidney with one of the armrests, but that wasn't even surprising given his day.
Yep, it was time to admit defeat. He'd tried ignoring his feelings. He'd tried reminding himself that a teacher who had any sort of sexual feelings for a student was way into ethically creepy territory. He'd tried just focusing on the work they were doing together. Riley had great ideas, and his military background and psychology training gave him a perspective on anthropology that Blair loved. A lot of times, Blair was alone in his love for applied science. Or if other anthropologists did want to do applied work, they wanted to investigate the disappearing cultures of the world. Riley was someone who shared his love for the law-enforcement community. They'd done really exciting work.
But he couldn't keep doing it. It was like his leg. He'd tried and tried and tried, and now it was time to admit defeat.
Blair got up out of his chair and hobbled to his desk. He was going to be asking Jim for a massage tonight, but he just couldn't totally repress his need to pace. Riley was going....
The knock at the door made Blair's stomach clench. He had to do this. It wasn't like this hurt as much as when he thought he'd lost Jim. That had ripped his fucking heart out. This was just... it was poking a big hole through it. He'd survive.
"Come in," Blair called. Riley walked in, a frown pulled his eyebrows down as he stared down at the papers in his hand. It was probably more data from their field trip to New Orleans.
"I think I found...."
"We need to talk," Blair interrupted Riley. Riley looked up in surprise. For a second, Blair almost expected Riley to demand answers. Sometimes Riley and Jim were so similar that the wondered if maybe his libido wasn't confusing them and running after the first cute soldier to cross his path. Of course, the alternative was also possible—he was a masochist. He was a masochist with a kink for getting shot down. But Riley wasn't Jim. While Jim would have demanded answers, Riley waited in silence with a quizzical expression on his face.
"Blair?" Riley eventually asked.
"Oh man. Okay, this is totally not about you, but I am in way over my head. I mean, between teaching and my work at the PD and this article I have due, I am totally feeling overwhelmed. Like with the leg, I just have to know my limits." Blair smiled and patted his bad leg. "It's tiring, you know?" Blair tried to keep his voice light and carefree, but Riley's frown deepened.
"Blair, we have most of the legwork done already."
"I really do think you're ready to go. Dr. Copperly is willing to look over your final numbers, but I'm going to have to back out of my commitment to you. You have no idea how sorry I am, but I can't things slide at the university or down at the PD."
Riley closed the file that had his papers. "You're too busy to work on this?" he asked.
Blair gave a helpless shrug. "I really wish I could work with you on that, but I am so just not doing okay." Blair obfuscated his ass off. He wasn't lying about anything, but he sure as hell wasn't about to tell Riley why he was overwhelmed with the idea of working with him. There was masochism and then there was just flat out stupidity. Blair was not about to be stupid enough to ruin any chance they had to work together once Blair got over this stupid-ass crush. God, he was an idiot.
"Anyway," Blair continued, "my leg is killing me. Man, I am going to be begging Jim for some massage tonight. Sometimes living with a former medic is a total advantage, even if he is a neat-freak with tofu issues. So, I left Dr. Copperly's office number with my secretary, and she has copies of all my notes. I am not holding anything back because you totally deserve the credit for this whole study." Blair settled himself in his chair, and only then did he realize that he truly was physically exhausted. He started pushing himself toward the door.
"Would you like a hand?" Riley asked.
Blair closed his eyes. Okay, that was why he totally kept getting his libido all tangled up. Cops and soldiers were supposed to be stoic and unemotional or they were supposed to be testosterone-drive assholes. Instead, Jim and Riley cared so much and they were such ethical men that Blair just couldn't help but fall for them. He didn't understand why they weren't both happily married and getting all emotional over little girls and ballet recitals.
"Nah," Blair told Riley. "I have it. The truth is, I should be working my weak side harder anyway, so a little extra effort just makes me feel less guilty about skipping out on physical therapy. So, you're welcome to use my office. Just make sure the door is closed when you leave." Blair smiled and wheeled himself past Riley Finn. Damn. Life hated him.
He got all the way to the van before his eyes started to sting. While Blair normally appreciated Naomi's mothering skills, there was a part of him that resented that she had never taught him the stoic skills that allowed Jim and Riley to talk about dead friends with only flashes of emotion slipping through like lightning in a thunderstorm. Blair's first tears slipped down as he used the lift to get his chair up and into the van. He had no idea if he was crying out of frustration or loss, but he sure and hell couldn't go home until he got himself under control. He'd set off every Blessed Protector nerve Jim owned, and Blair didn't want to set Jim against Riley. They had some sort of strange soldier-camaraderie going.
Blair was exhausted when he finally rolled off the elevator. The loft door was the last obstacle, but Blair ached at the thought of it. Normally he braced himself with his good leg and leaned forward to work the lock, but his fingers were trembling with emotion, and his lower back ached from his earlier pacing and his three hour drive through the suburbs of Cascade where kids chased each other down sidewalks. Blair hadn't hurt this much since last time he went to physical therapy.
Staring morosely at the locked door, Blair started digging in the small pouch that hung on the inside of his armrest on his good side.
"Blair?" Jim opened the door and looked at him with some confusion. The worst part about living with a Sentinel was that they always knew when you'd had the shitty day from hell. And the second Blair saw Jim's face, he knew that he'd done a pretty sucky job of hiding his distress.
"Man, I do not want to talk about it," Blair said, rolling forward. Jim reached out and caught one of the handgrips to give Blair a push. With a sigh, Blair abandoned any pretense of control and let Jim push him inside and close the loft door.
"Bad day?" Jim asked, pushing Blair over to the couch. He locked the wheels on Blair's chair and then offered his arm. Normally Blair could transfer in and out of the chair easily, but his bad leg was on the verge of a spasm, and his good one ached with exhaustion. Reaching out, Blair locked his hands around Jim's arm and shoulder and used his friend to swing his body around and onto the couch.
"Yes."
Sometimes it drove Blair crazy when Jim wouldn't talk, but the upside was that he didn't push others to talk either... not unless they were suspects and Jim wanted information.
"I'll get the Ben Gay." Jim turned and headed for the bathroom. At the end of the couch, he paused at the table, picked up the TV remote, and tossed it onto the cushion next to Blair. Yeah, he'd had a rough day. He'd given up something he wanted, but he definitely still had what he needed. Blair wouldn't trade his life with Jim in for anyone. He sure as hell wouldn't trade it for some totally heterosexual student. Nope. Blair was happy; he just needed to focus on all the parts of his life that did make him happy.
"Hey, did you see the Jags traded for Atkinson?" Blair yelled.
"Yeah, I caught that," Jim yelled back. "Sandburg, where the hell did you leave the Ben Gay?"
"I don't know. Try the bedside table." Blair flicked on the television.
"If you'd keep your shit in the same place, you might be able to find it." Jim was sounding a little cranky.
"Yeah, yeah. If I'm ever that anal retentive, I hope someone shoots me and puts me out of my misery."
Jim came out of Blair's bedroom with a tube in his hand. "With your luck, you shouldn't be joking about that.
"Whatever." Blair smiled. Yep, life wasn't bad at all.
~ ~ ~
"Finn in there?" Jim asked Karla. Blair always said that his accident had two upsides: good parking and Karla. The university hired her to work part-time just for Blair, transcribing his notes since his one hand didn't function as well with very precise tasks like typing. Jim thought that it was a pretty poor trade considering how the chair limited Blair's life, but that was Blair—always looking for the bright side.
"Yep," Karla agreed. She leaned back in her chair and looked him up and down with a sharp-eyed speculation. "So, are you about to do something Blair is going to kill you over?"
"Could be," Jim agreed. Luckily, he also trusted Karla to not tell Blair that he'd lured Riley Finn to the office. Karla understood that sometimes Blair didn't take care of himself and he needed a little push to get back on track. Sometimes that meant Jim brought him lunch, and sometimes it meant dragging him out of his wheelchair for a swim in the campus pool before all his muscles cramped up. This time it meant verbally kicking a little ass.
"I'll go to your funeral," Karla promised, "and I'm on break." Standing up, she grabbed her purse and made a show out of leaving the front area. Blair had the first office and the other professors weren't actually in their offices often. That gave Jim and Riley Finn a little privacy.
Jim walked over and pushed Blair's office door open.
"Jim!" Riley sat up on the couch and dropped his legal pad on the cushion next to him. "I thought Blair was coming."
"He's at home nursing a bad mood," Jim answered honestly enough. He didn't mention that Blair would be in a worse mood if he found out about Jim's plan. Hopefully this would work or Jim could just kill Riley and hide the body. Either would be a tactical success.
"Jim, did I do something that's made him uncomfortable working with me?" Riley stood up and asked the question with such an honest openness that Jim was caught off guard. The short answer was 'yes,' but Riley would misunderstand that. Damn it. Blair had better understand how much Jim loved him because Jim would pretty much cut off an arm to avoid this conversation.
"Sit down," Jim said, gesturing toward the couch. Riley slowly sank, watching Jim cautiously—the way you might watch an unstable commanding officer. It was a little amusing considering that Riley had left the military a major, one rank above Jim.
Jim rubbed his hand over his face and figured it was probably best to just get this over with. "Blair thinks that the only ethical solution to his current problem is to cut off all contact with you, particularly as a student."
"He... what?" Riley's voice went up and his eyes dilated—two clear signs of distress, and two confirmations that Jim was right that the feelings were mutual. Riley was probably silently nursing his own version of a bad mood, even if he hid it better than Blair who wrapped himself in every emotion like a well-worn coat.
Fuck. Jim really hated this. He rubbed his face again. "He likes you, Finn. You're his student, and he likes you which puts him in an ethical dilemma. Worse, he's under the impression that you aren't attracted to him, so he thinks you're going to have some sort of heterosexual horror if you find out he's attracted." This was either going to put these two on the right path, or Jim was going to have to sign over his half of the loft and run for the hills before Blair found out what he'd done. Shit. And he was the one who always complained about Naomi's meddling. He was starting to have a little more sympathy for her because Blair invited meddling by always putting his own needs last on the priority list.
Jim wanted some sort of reaction, but Riley just blinked up at him like his brain had gotten stuck somewhere in the middle of that revelation. "He likes me?"
"Shocking, isn't it?" Jim asked with a bit more rancor than he probably needed.
"I was going to say ironic," Riley said with a slight smile that did not make Jim feel any better about this whole mess. "Trust me, I know how bad teacher-student relationships can get, and I have a whole lot of respect for Blair for not doing something unethical. He's a better man than I am in a lot of ways." The grimace suggested that Riley had his own story of questionable ethics. "But Jim, this doesn't mean we can't work together."
Jim clenched his fists and tried very hard to remind himself that it would be hard to sneak a body out of the building in the middle of the day. Not impossible, but hard. "You can't ask him to work with you when he has feelings for you." Jim tried very hard to ignore his own bit of dark irony. Hell, he asked Blair to live with him, to love him, to call him family... and yet Jim couldn't find Blair sexually attractive. "You either need to decide if you can man up to your own feelings for him or you need to get out of his life so he can heal."
Riley chewed on his lip and seemed to be collecting his thoughts, so Jim leaned back against the wall and waited for whatever stupid thing the man was about to say. Jim could almost smell the coming stupidity.
"You don't want me being interested in Blair... not like that." The pain on Riley's face made Jim hesitate, but it wasn't like he didn't already know that Riley carried baggage. Hell, Blair seemed to have a kink for baggage because he certainly fell for guys who had it in spades.
"Of course I don't," Jim said loudly. "Do you think I want this for him? I want him to fall for some college professor who will encourage him to have a nice boring life and go to physical therapy a little more often. I want to go to bed at night knowing that he's not going to get a gun shoved in his face tomorrow. Between following me out to scenes to profile for the department and you hauling him out to New Orleans—"
"I never—" Riley started to say.
Jim threw his hands up in the air in disgust. "You took him to study the patterns of racial profiling and police corruption. You and I both know that the only thing more dangerous than bad guys are the good guys who've lost their moral compass, and that's what you hauled him down to investigate—an entire city full of police who had lost their moral compasses. I'm only starting to get over the ulcers I got while you were gone. And part of me appreciates that you respect him enough to know that chair is not going to stop him from doing dangerous work, and part of me wants to beat the holy shit out of you."
"Jim..." Riley was clearly ready to defend his choices, but Jim did not want to go there. He already knew Riley was right, which is why he'd stood in the airport and watched them get on a plane when his stomach was tied in knots. Riley could have his moral victory on the work front, but he was still acting like an ass when it came to the relationship.
"Save it, Finn," Jim cut him off. "Right now I'm trying hard to not seriously hate your guts because I wish I could give him what he wants, but I can't. I'm not attracted to him. But you are. I know it." Jim took a step forward, struggling with his own anger and guilt and hot need to fix this for Blair—to keep anyone else from hurting Blair the way Jim had. "But if you're going to start lying to yourself or to me or, god help you, to Blair, just let me know, and I am very capable of hating you. In fact, I might suggest that you'd be wise to get your degree and find some other police department to study because there will be a long line of people hating you if I tell them that you turned your back on Blair."
"I'm not turning my back." Riley was angry now—angry and defensive.
"No. You're just letting him turn his back."
"That's his choice."
"No. It isn't. He's trying to take the high road here and not pressure you. He thinks you aren't attracted to him, but you and I both know that's a lie." Jim watched as his words sunk into Riley. He could see the flash of panic, the need for denial, he was even pretty sure Riley was trying to decide whether or not Jim was about to throw a punch.
"I never—"
"You never said it. You never gave him one fucking clue, but that doesn't make it less true."
Riley seemed to pull back into himself, the anger evaporating and something that looked like panic taking its place. "I have never dated men."
"Bully for you, Finn. Do you want a fucking medal? Do you think that's something to brag about? I'd date him in a second if I could make myself feel just one bit of attraction, but I can't. However, he leans over a table and gets excited by some pretty piece of data you dug up, and you go leaking pheromones, so don't play games. It makes you look stupid."
The growing anger fell away as Riley stared at him in shock. "You can smell pheromones?"
Jim could feel his jaw muscle ache. This was part of his life he still hated sharing, even after he'd admitted to the brass that he had enhanced smell and hearing. However, if he wanted Blair to have a full and complete life—including someone who could love him—that meant Jim had to let someone past his knee-jerk reaction. And the fact was that Jim did respect Riley. The man kept his confidences and the covert work he'd done hadn't soured him on the world. He still had this odd idealism that Jim associated more with men like Blair than he did with any covert ops soldiers he'd known. Jim took a deep breath and ordered himself to stop acting like an asshole, because it looked like Riley might be willing to at least consider the possibility of a future with Blair.
"I did mention that Blair wrote a book on people who have one or two hyperactive senses. Mine is smell. So yes, I can smell pheromones."
Riley ran a hand over his face and sighed out a soft curse. "Damn."
"Do you plan to deny it?"
"No. I mean, yes, I am attracted to him, but it's not that simple." Riley looked up, and the expression wasn't defensive—it was fearful.
"It never is, Finn. The gender doesn't make it any less complicated. And you know, I'm a fucking hypocrite because you sure as hell don't see me out there risking myself. But if you let Blair walk away, you're a real ass." Jim walked over and grabbed Riley's papers, tossing them onto the end table so he could sit on the couch. He was too old and too fucking tired for this conversation. Maybe Riley felt the same way because for long minutes, they just sat in silence.
Eventually, Riley spoke up. "I'm not exactly good with relationships."
"None of us are. And that includes Blair. Look at the assholes he keeps falling for."
Riley gave a dark laugh. "His taste in men sucks."
"Yeah, it does. Sadly, it's actually better than his taste in women. The last two women he really fell hard for both just about got him killed. Hell, he even came inches from being sentenced as a drug runner in Canada once. Simon's fast-talking and some lucky footage on a security camera saved him."
Riley looked at him with horror and more than a little confusion.
"It's a long story," Jim left it at. "I'm just saying we all suck at relationships, Finn."
"More than you know, Jim. The last two women I loved, I betrayed both of them."
Jim frowned at that. True, sometimes he didn't exactly have warm, fuzzy feelings for Riley, but he would never suspect the man would ever betray someone. Jim's guts clenched. He had issues with betrayal.
"I got stupid trying to keep up with a woman who was twice the soldier I ever was." Riley gave another dark laugh before he rubbed his eyes.
Jim was shocked. There weren't many women in covert ops, so either she was a specialist attached to their unit, or she'd been quite the woman to actually get accepted into covert ops--a field where women technically didn't serve. "She survive?" Jim asked.
Riley's laugh was dark and full of self-hatred. "Yeah, she was tough. Too tough for it to make any difference that I was too screwed up to provide any support."
Jim sat next to Riley and considered this new twist. Things might not have been as simple as Riley suggested—Sarris' daughter would say Jim had betrayed her father and the whole team who had died in Peru. In battle, sometimes it wasn't as easy as supporting your team. Sometimes reality got in the way. "The second woman?" Jim asked cautiously. He wanted to give Riley the benefit of the doubt.
Riley made an unhappy noise. "She wanted to save the world. She volunteered with one of those charities that send people around the world when she ended up in the middle of..." Riley let his voice trail off, but Jim could fill in the blanks. Military action meant refugees and that meant charity workers who often did end up in the middle of the battlefield. Riley took a deep breath. "She really proved herself when some things went down, and she joined my unit. She was good, but she always had to be better, faster, more accurate, more alert. She went in the field when she had no business even holding a weapon." Leaning back on the couch, Riley ran both hands through his hair and then stared at the ceiling. He didn't need to finish the story, though, because Jim had seen it often enough. Put people in stressful situations, and they'd search for something to give them an edge.
"Pills?"
Riley nodded. "I tried to get her off them. When I couldn't, I had to turn her in before she got someone killed, but we were more than just teammates, and she--" Riley stopped.
Jim flinched. He could just imagine how that would tear a unit apart. Soldiers stood together, they watched each others' backs. But an officer couldn't allow that sort of dangerous behavior in the field. It was a no-win situation. Some days Jim was thankful that his own career had been derailed by Peru.
"Wait." Jim sat up. "This was someone you were involved with? In your unit?"
For heavy seconds, Riley didn't answer, and Jim could feel his own growing horror. When Riley did answer, it was little more than a whisper. "She was my wife. The higher-ups cut us a little slack on the regs. We dealt with unique situations." Riley kept staring at the ceiling.
Jim had been through the misery of conflicts within a unit, and he'd been through a miserable divorce, but he would have seriously considered eating his gun if he'd had to deal with both at the same time. Riley had as much reason to be gun-shy around relationships as he did.
"Well, fuck," Jim said softly.
Riley answered with another dark laugh.
"Blair really does have horrible taste in men." Jim sighed.
"I do care about Blair, but I'm not sure he really needs to deal with this baggage."
"Blair's good with baggage," Jim said with more than a little disgust. He almost wished this would drive Blair away, but if Blair was willing to deal with all the shit Jim had hauled into their friendship, Riley's baggage wasn't going to be a blip on the radar.
"He wouldn't want to deal with this much. I have a horrible track record with relationships, and before Blair, I never felt any sort of attraction for men. Not after high school anyway." Riley looked at Jim like he was begging for permission to ignore his feelings. No fucking way was Jim going there.
"He'd want to deal with it," Jim said. "He'd listen and tell you it wasn't your fault, and forgive you. He'd never really understand, but he'd forgive you with his whole heart."
"I'm not sure I'm ready for that," Riley said softly.
"Then tell Blair that. Tell him you're too fucked up to pursue something, but that you are attracted to him. Don't let him think that you don't care about him." Jim stood up and sighed. Nothing was easy when it came to Blair. "Don't let him think you're one more person that just can't love him."
Riley stared at him for a long time before he nodded. "I'll talk to him."
Jim nodded and headed for the door. There really wasn't anything else to say.
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