To Boldly Go

By Moonglow


Rating: G

Notes: Okay, I couldn't resist this title...


It had been funny the first three times, with Jim grinning good naturedly at the joke, but by Wednesday it was beginning to wear on his nerves. By lunchtime Friday, Mount Rushmore had nothing on Stoneface Ellison as the Star Trek references were still causing sniggers around the bullpen.

The demise of his computer screen had caused howls of laughter in the break room as the technician had gravely informed Jim that it was dead. Even Dan down in pathology was hard pressed to keep a straight face, but he managed it; barely. Blair, his partner, did his best to keep a straight face, but Jim had distinctly heard him snorting in the men’s room after Connor had pointed out the dead spider in the corner.

A sigh of relief heralded the end of the working week, with Jim allowing the tension to bleed out of his shoulders as he settled into the driving seat of the truck. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting the relative quiet of the precinct garage ease the slight headache that had plagued him for most of the afternoon.

“Hey, you okay?” Jim opened one eye as Blair slid into the passenger seat.

“Long week, Chief.”

“How about we get a pizza delivered and sack out on the couch tonight?”

“Sounds great.” Jim threw the truck into gear and pealed out of the underground garage, tossing his cell to Blair to make the call.


The light from the television downstairs sent flickering shadows on the ceiling of the loft bedroom, the sound turned down low enough to be just faint background noise to accompany the voices upstairs. A familiar phrase was groaned out, the only one that week that caused a genuine, wide smile to cross Jim’s face.

“It’s dead, Jim.”

Jim propped himself on his elbow and looked down at his companion sprawled boneless across the pale blue comforter. He reached out a hand and brushed the short hair back from a sweaty forehead, running his fingers through the strands and smiling when Blair nuzzled against his hand.

He let his gaze travel from the tip of Blair’s head, not mourning the long curls as the short haircut revealed the fine bone structure of Blair’s face, down the hair covered chest to his groin where the object of discussion was nestled against Jim’s thigh. A finger followed where his eyes had been and traced a line from sternum to cock.

Blue eyes gleamed out from under long lashes as Blair watched Jim’s face morph from serious concentration to playful lust. He groaned as he felt his dick twitch against Jim’s leg.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Chief.” Jim leaned over him and nipped lightly at his full bottom lip, sweeping his tongue inside as Blair opened to admit him.


“No, I’d say it was more ‘It’s Alive!’ than dead.” A grin broke out over Jim’s face and he started laughing, burying his face in the curve of Blair’s neck, shoulders shaking with glee. Blair snorted and brought his arms around Jim’s neck, rolling the helpless man onto his back.

“I knew it was a mistake to let you watch that Boris Karloff marathon.”


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