Need
by Becky
December 1998
The loft was dark when Blair, whistling under his breath, opened the door. He paused in the doorway, a frown appearing on his face. Jim's truck was parked outside. Taking another step, he reached out to touch the key basket, tilting it toward him. Yup -- Jim's keys were inside. Laying his own keys in beside them, the gentle clinking sounding loud in the silence, he scanned the front room, locating his partner's silhouette at the side of the glass balcony doors, standing half in the shadows, back to the doorway.
Closing the door quietly behind him, Blair's hand hovered over the light switch, then decided to leave the room dark. Jim must have some kind of reason. After shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on its hook, he padded across the room, glad that his eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness.
"Jim...?"
No answer. He couldn't be sure Jim was even breathing.
He stopped just behind the taller man and hesitantly touched Jim's back, reassured to feel his ribcage rise and fall with each inhalation and exhalation. Since Jim didn't back away from his touch, rather leaned back just a fraction, Blair began a soft, gentle rubbing.
"Hey, buddy, you okay?"
Again no immediate answer, then Jim gave a long sigh and turned toward Blair, facing him, tilting his head to stare down at him in the darkness.
Blair met his eyes, just barely able to see them, knowing Jim could see him perfectly if he chose to. The little he could see of his friend's face, aided by the moonlight streaming in through the window, told him that Jim felt a little down, maybe sad, maybe even upset about something, but not angry. Introspective maybe. Contemplative. Something like that. Not quite, but...
Melancholy.
The word struck him and he blinked. Yeah, that was it. Melancholy.
Jim's hand came up and his fingers grazed Blair's cheek, barely touching it, his thumb stroking in a feather-light caress. His eyes left Blair's and followed the movement of his hand as it drifted down to Blair's neck. He didn't look back up again, just watched his fingers smooth over Blair's shoulder in lazy arcs.
Blair frowned. "Jim, what is it? You're drifting on me here." His voice turned urgent.
The other man stiffened a little in reaction to the sudden urgency in Blair's voice and pulled away. Or at least he tried to. Blair grabbed his hand and held it to his shoulder tightly, entwining his fingers with Jim's. He laid his other hand on Jim's chest. Lowering his voice to a deeper tone, he whispered, "Talk to me, Jim. I want to help."
Slowly Jim moved his eyes up to meet Blair's. The loss and the need in those light blue depths startled the younger man. He stepped closer. "What is it, Jim? What do you need?"
Jim's lips parted and he finally spoke, his low tones echoed by the tightening of his grip on Blair's hand. "Would it sound too strange if I said I needed a hug?"
The younger man shook his head, a soft smile lighting his face and his eyes. "No, Jim, it wouldn't. Not at all." Sliding his arm around Jim's chest to his back, he felt Jim release his hand, then wrap both arms around him warmly, holding him close.
Completely encircled by the other man's arms, Blair turned his head to lay his ear over Jim's heart, listening to the beat even as he felt Jim bury his face in the crook of his neck. He didn't know what troubled Jim this evening. He didn't need to know.
Jim needed him. Needed the closeness and the contact.
Everything else could wait.
- The End -