Jim Ellison contentedly studied his handiwork. Fresh bread, thinly sliced roast beef, mild tartar sauce, crisp lettuce, and a thin slice of tomato. He would never have considered putting tartar sauce on a roast beef sandwich. But having split one with Joel during a long night's stakeout had changed his mind.
Hearing a noise behind him, Jim barely glanced over his shoulder at his partner who had emerged from his small bedroom then took a second, longer look. "Going for the natural look, jungle boy?"
Blair Sandburg grinned and rubbed his bearded face. "Just going for a certain look."
"And that look includes worn clothing?" Jim's eyebrows rose as he studied his partner ever more closely.
"Trina and I are doing a little role playing tonight." Blair wiggled his eyebrows and laughed. "I'm the long lost explorer who's just stumbled back into civilization, and she's an investigative reporter."
"Excuse me?" Jim stared at his friend in stunned surprise.
"You know...role playing. Get the old creative juices going." Blair grinned. "You mean you and Carolyn never pretended to be with someone else."
"No!" Jim angrily exploded.
"Hey, calm down, man." Blair raised his hands in mock surrender. "It's all in fun."
Jim grunted and returned to studying his creation.
"Jim, everyone has a fantasy partner," Blair patiently explained. "You know...someone you think about when you're all alone and need to take care of business."
"That's different, Sandburg," Jim shook his head. "When you're with someone...you should be with that person. If you need to pretend to be with someone else, maybe you're with the wrong person."
Blair blinked. "You know, I actually understood that. And I can see where you're coming from. But you're talking about a serious relationship. Trina and I are just out for a little fun."
Jim carefully sliced the sandwich and placed it on a small plate. "I don't know, Chief. Seems to me that if you're going to take the time and trouble to physically be with someone, why be someone other than yourself and expect your partner to be someone else?"
Blair hesitated. "Because it's fun?" When Jim snorted, he shrugged. "Because sometimes you need to fantasize about someone you'll probably never have."
"And Trina fantasizes about long lost explorers while you fantasize about being grilled by a reporter?" Jim brought half the sandwich to his face and sniffed in pleasure. "A modern version of 'Dr. Livingston, I presume'?"
Blair chuckled at the happy expression on Jim's face. He had the idea that Jim's mind was going further away from the conversation and closer towards his dinner. "Or something. C'mon, Jim, you mean to say you've never fantasized?"
"Not when I'm with someone." Jim's voice drifted off as he bit into the sandwich and softly moaned at the pleasurable contrasts of taste.
Noticing his friend's distraction, Blair grinned. "So who's your fantasy when you're alone?"
"You."
Silence.
Jim closed his eyes and wondered how quickly he could get his gun. After that slip of the tongue, one of them had to die.
"Jim?"
"Better hustle, Chief. You're going to be late." Jim opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a bottle of water.
"But..."
"Have a good time."
Blair stared in silence as Jim took his plate and water bottle towards the balcony.
Jim sighed in the darkness. The uneaten sandwich and half empty bottle of water sat on the small table next to him. Prospect was unexpectedly quiet, giving Jim the illusion of complete privacy.
Suddenly he smiled. 'I guess I should've learned by now to keep my entire mind on any conversation I have with Sandburg.' He glanced up at the star-speckled sky. "I guess it's too much to hope for that Trina will be so good tonight that he'll completely forget that entire conversation?"
Not receiving any divine assurance, Jim grunted. He got to his feet, intending to clean up the balcony table and kitchen before it got much later. He wanted to be in bed with an activated white noise generator well before Sandburg returned from his fantasy date.
The first thing Jim knew what that his bed was gently rocking. As the mattress stopped moving, he opened his eyes and glanced down at the foot of his bed. "Sandburg?"
Blair sat cross-legged on the foot of Jim's bed. His hair was damp from the shower, and the beard was gone. "Hey," he softly answered.
"Anything wrong, Chief?"
"I didn't go on my date."
Jim reached over to the nightstand and turned off the white noise generator. "Why not? What happened?"
"Do you want to know what my fantasy really was?"
Jim started to shake his head, then stared at Blair. "What?" he finally answered, rising up on his elbows.
"My fantasy lover has this problem. His senses are running wild. I have some of the answers, but he's kinda ticked me off by calling me a neo-hippy witchdoctor punk."
"Not really a smart thing for this guy to do." Jim half-smiled. "So what's this guy look like?"
"Tall. Blue eyes. Not much in the speech department but great with actions." Blair took a deep breath. "Did you mean it? That I'm your fantasy?"
Jim met Blair's eyes. "Yes."
Slowly Blair rose to his knees and crawled up the bed to Jim's side. As Jim lay back on the bed, he tentatively put his head on the older man's chest. "Fantasies are good only when you can't have the real thing," he whispered.
Jim held his breath as Blair slowly relaxed against him. Then he carefully put his arms around the smaller man. "I vote for the real thing," he whispered in return.
February 2005
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