Interruptus

He made it to the hospital. He made it through surgery to repair the lung. But beyond that the surgeon had little hope. He’d taken a sword through his right lung, in and out. The lung had collapsed and he’d bled into his chest. The only reason he didn’t die right away was that the blade missed his heart and his aorta. Now it was up to him and his God.

Blair mostly sat and waited and it was clear to Simon how it was between him and Jim. It surprised him - maybe he had some preconceived notions about gay men - because Jim was such a bad ass, ex forces kind of dude. Blair he could see with all that hair, and sensitivity, and those damned earrings, but he’d known Jim to date females. Maybe he was bi. Bi, queer, who gave a shit. He was lucky to have Sandburg.

Blair didn’t go home. He would sometimes speak quietly to Jim, sometimes he would massage his hands and his feet, but mostly he sat and waited. Jim would wake, open his eyes and look at him, solemnly study him for a moment before going back to sleep. Blair knew he wasn’t really conscious then, that he was on a journey, trying to find his way back. So he waited patiently, always there when Jim woke to look for him. They didn’t believe him when he tried to explain this - they just figured he was distraught, grasping at straws. As far as they were concerned, Jim was in a coma, and comatose patients often seemed to be awake but were not - twilight they called it. They weren’t sensible, it meant nothing.

“Chief.”
Jim’s voice was faint and husky but enough to bring Blair right out of sleep. He sat up in the next bed, where he’d taken up residence, grinning stupidly. He was pleased but not surprised - he knew it would be a matter of time, but definitely pleased.
“You’re back.” he said, still smiling.
“I was…dreaming.” Jim said, frowning a little. “You were in it, Chief. I was lost in this dense forest”
“It’s always a forest with you.” Blair retorted.
Jim smiled. “I was lost but you were showing me the path out. Then you left me, I couldn’t find you and I didn’t know which way to go.” He frowned again. “But then there you were again, pointing the way out. Huh.” He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room.
“How long?” he asked Blair.
“Four days almost.”
“Damn, you’re not kidding.” He tried to sit up but Blair protested, pushing him back down.
“Hey, bro, you got all kinds of tubes in you in places you don’t want to know, take it easy.”
“Then somebody needs to come get this shit out of me.” Jim said, pulling the oxygen cannulae from his nose.
“Okay, okay, let me go get somebody as long as you promise to stop pulling stuff off.”

The nurse on duty didn’t seem at all concerned by Jim’s glower. She read his chart carefully. “The cannulae can come off, but the chest tube and the catheter come out tomorrow and the IV stays. That’s my final offer.” The nurse said brooking no argument. “Or,” she added cutting off his argument with a hand, “I can pump you full of drugs and get my way and all this other stuff stays.”
Jim looked to Blair for back up, but he just shrugged. Exasperated he nodded in agreement.

Jim was NOT a good patient. Blair didn’t know who was happier to be rid of whom; Jim of the hospital or the hospital of Jim. Nevertheless Blair was happy to get him home. He was nowhere near a hundred percent but it became his lover’s battle to make him be still and take things easy. For such a vital man lying in a sickbed or sitting in an easy chair (“For chrissakes you might as well put an afghan over my lap!”) was almost a complete impossibility.
And no sex.
And he couldn’t run.
Funny how a hole in your lung will put a crimp in your early morning fuck/run .

But Jim persevered despite Blair’s protests, until one day he ran his entire cirucuit nonstop. Exhilarated he returned to a sleeping Blair (it was an unGODLY hour after all, somewhere before the ass crack of dawn) and snuck back into bed, stocking cap, sweaty sweats and all, waking Sandburg with caresses and intent on a proper buggering.

Blair willingly turned to him when he was assaulted with kisses and rude groping. He pulled Jim’s sodden sweatshirt off over is head, but hesitated when he saw the long scar that wound around his side beneath his arm. Tentatively he traced it with his fingers.
“I’m okay.” Jim assured him, stopping Blair’s hand with his. “I’m okay.” He repeated seeing concern in his lover’s eyes.

Blair frowned still, but reached up to cup Jim’s face and draw him down. With a groan Jim opened his mouth against his, nipping his lips and sliding his tongue into Blair’s sweet, hot mouth. Blair shifted and opened his legs to let Jim settle between them, against him. Jim was big man and his weight was an exquisite restraint - he was too heavy, but in a good way. He thrust against him and Blair felt his hard cock like a branding iron through his shorts against his ass. Sinuously Jim pressed his entire weight against him.
“Ugh, you’re all sweaty.” Blair complained, arching against him and throwing his head back so Jim could have his throat. He wasn’t really complaining. Blindly he reached down to push Jim’s sweatpants off his lean hips, he used his toes to push them down his legs ‘til he couldn’t reach and Jim had to ease up and shove them off the rest of the way. At same time he stripped Blair of his boxers as well. He pushed Blair’s T-shirt off most of the way but trapped his arms above his head in it. Now Blair could only arch and moan and complain, and whimper powerlessly when Jim trailed hot kisses down his body to take his cock in his mouth.
“GOD.” He moaned. It had been too long. Just the feel of Jim’s mouth on him caused him to shudder almost immediately. His balls tightened, “Waitwaitwait.” He shuddered again, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He didn’t want to come yet, not yet. Ahhh, too late.

Jim came back up to him, musty smelling of cum and salty tasting. Although he released his arms from the T-shirt restraint Blair couldn’t move. Then he flopped an arm over to the nightstand, feeling around for the ‘glide. By memory his hand found the tube of lube. Jim took it from him and reached between their bodies to ease his way. He was still hard, Blair could feel him against his ass. Blair sighed, his gaze softening as Jim slowly slid into him. He was trapped his lover’s eyes as he lifted his legs high on Jim’s flanks to accommodate him better. Jim thrust into him slowly and thoroughly and Blair drew as deep a breath through is parted lips. Jim kissed him and sighed, and pressed his forehead against Blair’s face, drawing his scent in as thoroughly and as leisurely as he thrust into his body. He felt a relief, a gratitude as if he was at long last coming home.

“Huh, you’re feeling better.” Blair observed sometime later, lying limp and exhausted in his lover’s arms.
“I’m strong to the finish cuz I eats my spinach.” A dastardly and unrepentant Jim sang into his ear and bit the lobe as he ran his hand down Blair’s long flanks to his inner thigh. He pushed the thigh wide and flat against the bed before tickling his balls and stroking his sleeping cock.
Blair stopped Jim’s action with a hand on his wrist. “That was the one fucking chance you get in this lifetime to scare the shit out of me, understand?” He said with a sudden ferocity.
Jim began to smile but was cut abruptly short when Blair angrily jerked the wrist he was holding.
“I am not fucking kidding.”
Jim simply kissed his mouth. “I love you too.”

Finis