Beautiful Freaks, by Hot Chelle Rae
All you beautiful freaks
Just grab somebody and light the place up
Light the place up, yeah
If you're a beautiful freak
No sleep, light the place up
Light the place up, yeah
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Down town spin it around
Speakers about to blow out
Can't keep my feet on the ground (feet on the ground)
Yeah
And it's you next to me
Livin' super fast, blowin daddy's cash
Call the cops, close the streets
Cause this shit's about to burn down
All you beautiful freaks
Just grab somebody and light the place up
Light the place up, yeah
If you're a beautiful freak
No sleep, light the place up
Light the place up, yeah
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Check, set, goin' hardcore
Crash in through back door
Rich girl gimme some more
Yeah
And it's you next to me
Living super fast, blowin' daddy's cash
Call the cops, close the streets
Cause this shit's about to burn down
All you beautiful freaks
Just grab somebody and light the place up
Light the place up, yeah
If you're a beautiful freak
No sleep, light the place up
Light the place up, yeah
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
So get in where you fit in
I'ma keep on grinnin'
Like a politician up on the stage
Elixir in the mixer
It's a temporary fixture
When you livin' in this crazy parade
All you beautiful freaks
Just grab somebody and light the place up
Light the place up, yeah
If you're a beautiful freak
No sleep, light the place up
Light the place up, yeah
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Beautiful freaks
Beautiful freaks
Beautiful freaks
Beautiful freaks
Jim and Blair were stopped at a light, on their way home from having dinner out. They'd been celebrating the end of a particularly long and difficult case, and were looking forward to having some free time the next few days. Blair's running monologue on the history of social dining stuttered to a stand-still when Jim cocked his head, listening.
"What do you hear?" Blair whispered, putting his hand on Jim's arm to help him focus.
"Around the corner." Jim flicked on the turn signal and made a right, pulling up in front of a dark building, one of many formerly commercial structures on this street that were empty and in a state of sagging disrepair.
"Should I call it in?" Blair asked, hand hovering over the radio. Jim shook his head.
"No. I don't know what…sounds like a fight." He opened his door and got out of the truck, his hand going automatically for the weapon at his back. "Stay behind me, Chief."
Blair did as he asked, zipping up his coat as he followed. It was April in Cascade, and the nights were still very chilly. Together they eased through the busted front door, Blair grabbing a handful of the back of Jim's coat because it was too dark to see. Inside, the air was musty and redolent with the scent of the homeless squatters who had apparently been living there.
"Dial down smell," Blair murmured, feeling Jim pause just a moment as he did so.
The moved farther into the building and suddenly there was a faint light. They went through another door and into a large, open space. Blair blinked as his eyes adjusted, and he saw the remains of a bar along one side of the room; the light came from candles that were sitting on top of it. Two men were in the back of the room, fists flying as they pounded on each other.
"Cascade PD!" Jim bellowed, bringing his gun up to bear. The men paused, fists raised, and shared a comical look of surprise before taking off in opposite directions. Blair automatically started to give chase, but Jim grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"Little fish, Sandburg. Let them go." Jim holstered his gun, then looked around the room, eyes narrowed.
"What is it?" Blair asked. "Is there something else?"
"No. Just…this seems familiar."
"You've probably busted someone here before. Or maybe this was a crime scene?"
"No." Jim wandered over to the bar. It must've been quite handsome once, made of natural oak stained dark, but time and ill use had turned it dull with grime and pitted the surface with gouges.
Blair watched him, intrigued as always when his Sentinel's focus turned inward as he tried to retrieve the information he was looking for. He loved these moments when he could drink in the sight of his friend unabashed, admiring the strong lines of his face and the way his coat hung off his wide shoulders. He thought he'd never get tired of looking at that man, and it was a bittersweet feeling because he wanted to do so much more than just look.
Jim ran one hand just over the surface of the bar, as if not wanting to actually touch it. Then he blinked, and a grin stole across his face.
"I'll be damned."
"What is it?" Blair asked, curious.
"This used to be The Scream." The grin became a full-fledged smile, full of nostalgia. "You'd never know to look at it now."
"What was The Scream?"
"It was a dance club. I used to come here when I was seventeen. Christ, that was a long time ago." Jim wandered back out into the middle of the room. "It wasn't a disco or anything like that. I wasn't into that kind of music. They'd play stuff like AC/DC, Sex Pistols, Zeppelin, that kind of thing."
"You went clubbing?" Blair asked in disbelief. "No way."
"That was my crazy year, Chief. Did worse than clubbing, trust me."
Blair's curiosity grew. It wasn't often his partner talked about his past, and when he did the stories generally weren't the warm and fuzzy variety. He tried to picture a much younger Jim Ellison shaking his booty out on the dance floor and just couldn't do it. He did some math in his head.
"Seventeen. That was what, 1977?" He chuckled. "You were out enjoying the night life, and I was eight years old, sneaking in to see Star Wars about once a day. We were staying with some people in Hoboken that spring."
"Sneaking into the movies, Sandburg?" Jim shook his head in mock disappointment. "You think you know a person."
"Look who's talking," Blair shot back. "How did you even get into a club if you were only seventeen?"
"Ellison money. You have enough of it, you can do pretty much anything." Jim shrugged. "It was just another way to stick it to the old man, really. He wanted me at the Country Club, taking tennis lessons and hanging out with the other bored kids of Cascade's elite. That was Steven's thing, not mine."
"I can almost picture it in my head, you at that age." Blair tapped a finger to his chin. "Bet you were the big man on campus, right? Jock, probably dated a cheerleader. Mr. Popularity."
Actually, he knew it was probably the opposite. Knowing the kind of home life Jim had, Blair imagined he was actually quite shy and reserved, not wanting to call a lot of attention to himself. Not easy with those looks, though his father hadn't given him much to work with in the self-esteem department.
"Not quite, Chief," Jim laughed. "Oh, I was a jock. Loved playing sports. You can probably guess why."
"Because of the clearly defined rules of play," Blair said automatically. "You like having things laid out, knowing what the boundaries are."
Jim favored him with a pleased look, nearly making him blush. Carolyn had called her ex-husband a control freak, but that wasn't exactly true. There had been a lot of upheaval in his life – his senses, his mother leaving when he was still so young, his strained relationship with his father and brother – and being able to tame as much of the chaos as possible is what kept Jim functioning. Particularly considering the spontaneity he needed to have working as a cop, where things could and did change in an instant. Blair had learned that pretty early on in their working relationship, and while he teased Jim about house rules he understood the necessity of it.
"Something like that. I didn't actually have that many friends, until that year. Decided I was going to be a party boy, and once you start flashing money around it's really easy to make new friends." There was no bitterness in Jim's voice, as Blair might have expected. Just resignation.
"Will you tell me about it?" he asked his friend.
*o*o*o*
Jimmy parked his Dodge Charger down the street, making sure it was under a streetlight. It was a '72, black and shiny, and he loved it. His dad had gotten it for him the year before, saying that Ellison men needed to have their own wheels so they didn't have to go begging for rides. They didn't agree on much else, but Jimmy couldn't help going along with his old man on that one. The fact that it made Stevie, still too young to drive, green with envy was just an extra bonus.
Four of his classmates poured out of the car after he did, laughing and jostling each other in excitement. Jimmy had been coming to The Scream for a few weeks now, and this was the first time he'd invited people to come with him. Not friends, really, though that's what they called each other. He knew they were only hanging out with him because his old man had money and Jimmy had access to it. And now he was going to get them into the hottest club in Cascade that wasn't a disco; he hated disco.
"You can really get us past the bouncer?" Jenna asked, clinging to his arm. She was a cute little blonde with a page boy haircut and lots of blue eyeshadow. He didn't know how well she'd fit in here, with her pale blue handkerchief dress and strappy white shoes; most of the women at The Scream wore leather or denim. Jimmy himself had on torn black denim jeans and a tight black t-shirt with an anarchy symbol emblazoned on the front. His hair was long, but not hippie long, spiky with gel on top and falling just above the collar of his shirt in the back. A diamond stud glittered in one ear.
"Just stick with me," he said confidently. Besides Jenna, he'd invited two of his pals from the high school baseball team, Eric and Rob, and Rob's girlfriend Betty. Jimmy hung out with Eric a lot, even though he was a senior; they were co-captains of both the baseball and football teams, and Eric's dad had taken them to see the Seattle Mariners play their inaugural game on April 6. Jimmy could relax over at Eric's house, where he could watch The Rockford Files and reruns of Banacek without his old man making disparaging remarks.
They made their way to the front door and Jimmy nodded at the bouncer, a big ex-wrestler named Hank the Tank.
"Ellison. See you have an entourage tonight."
"You know how it is," Jimmy said. He shook hands with Tank, slipping him a hundred bucks. The big man pocketed the bill and nodded towards the door.
"Keep your nose clean," he warned.
"I'm good," Jimmy promised.
*o*o*o*
"Keep your nose clean?" Blair asked.
Jim looked away, his cheeks flushing. "He…uh…caught me one night doing some blow in the back room."
Blair just gaped at him, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. Blow? His by-the-book, straight-up, Boyscout partner had done cocaine? When he was seventeen? "What? How…why would you…why?"
His friend laughed reluctantly. "Don't have a coronary, Sandburg. It's not like I developed a habit or anything. I just did it a couple of times. I liked how it made me feel. Confident, sexy…I can see why people get addicted to it."
"Sorry, I just can't picture you snorting lines in the back room of some club." Blair shook his head. "And I thought I was the one with the free-wheeling lifestyle, man. I never did any of the hard stuff."
"Neither did I, not after Tank hauled me out of there and kicked my ass. Letting me in to drink was one thing, but he didn't approve of the other stuff."
"I suppose I should thank him for that," Blair said dryly. "Drinking and driving is just as bad."
"Yeah, well, you don't think about that stuff when your seventeen and feeling just a bit entitled," Jim said in his own defense. "There would've been hell to pay if my dad had found out about it."
His minor in psych poked at that last comment, though Blair kept it to himself. He was sure that Jim's reckless behavior had been a way to get his father's attention. Getting it for positive accomplishments, like football, hadn't worked. It was possible he'd been operating under the idea that any attention was good, even if it was negative attention. He felt immeasurably sad that his best friend was forced to grow up that way.
*o*o*o*
Inside the club the music was thumping, Anarchy in the UK blasting from the speakers. Jimmy led the way with confidence, familiar now with how things worked here. It was almost too loud for talking, and that was fine with him. He liked the way he could feel the music through the bottoms of his engineer boots, and how it moved across his skin. It reminded him of something, though he could never quite catch on to that fragment of memory long enough to identify it.
*o*o*o*
"Well, geez, Jim, I bet that reminded you of your senses!" Blair said excitedly. "I mean, you'd repressed all of that by then, but some part of you remembered."
Jim thought about that for a minute, then he nodded. "You're probably right, Chief. Funny thing is, if I did still have my senses I'd never have been able to go in there. It would've been way too much sensory input."
"I can almost understand the drugs, too. Just another way to amplify your normal senses." Blair was again filled with sadness for his friend, particularly since Jim had told him how easy it had been for him to use his heightened senses when he was a kid. To lose something that was a natural part of himself, and not even remember it, was heartbreaking.
*o*o*o*
Jimmy found them a table, then went over to the bar to procure a White Russian for Jenna and a pitcher of Michelob for the rest of them. He didn't need to show an ID; they assumed Tank filtered out anyone who shouldn't be there, and Jimmy was good at acting older than he was. When he was here he felt like he was someone else and he liked playing the part of the spoiled rich kid. He slipped the bartender an extra large tip.
The guys were suitably impressed with the beer and Jenna gave him a big wet kiss in thanks for the drink. The song changed to T.N.T. by AC/DC, but for the moment Jimmy was content to sit and watch the crowd. There were a few people sporting spiky Mohawks, and even more with safety pins stuck in their ears or through their lips. He'd never been particularly fond of that look. His dad had pitched such a fit about the diamond stud, a safety pin would likely send him to the ER.
"This place is bangin'," Eric said with a grin. "Check out that chick in the rubber."
"I want to dance," Betty said. She had a pouty way of talking that got on Jimmy's nerves, but Rob didn't seem to mind it. They went out to the dance floor, under the strobe lights, and started bouncing around to the music. Betty was a much better dancer than her boyfriend, but Jimmy gave Rob points for enthusiasm.
Eric knocked back his beer and got to his feet. "I'm gonna see if I can get some action."
"Just don't tell anyone you're in high school, or they'll laugh your ass right out of here," Jimmy advised. His friend saluted him and then vanished into the crowd.
Jenna seemed to take that as her cue to get on Jimmy's lap and start making out. Normally he didn't mind; he enjoyed the closeness, the touching, the warm heat of another body pressed against his. But tonight he was feeling restless, without really knowing why, and he just couldn't get into it. Maybe it was just that Jenna was a sloppy kisser.
*o*o*o*
"Even then you were touchy feely," Blair mused. He was leaning back against the bar, which was probably the cleanest surface in the room.
Jim glowered. "I'm not touchy feely."
"Sorry, sorry." Blair held up his hands in apology, but his eye roll ruined the sentiment. It never ceased to amuse him that his friend was so unaware of how much he needed to touch his Guide throughout the course of a regular day. He'd always assumed it was a Sentinel thing, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was just a lonely, touch-deprived Jim thing.
"Sandburg…"
"Forget I mentioned it. So, you weren't getting your jollies with Jenna?"
*o*o*o*
"I have to take a leak," Jimmy said, deftly transferring Jenna back to her own seat.
"Don't be long," she said, batting her eyes. Jimmy just sighed and headed back towards the rest rooms. He figured he could dance with her when he got back, which would give her something to do besides drool all over him.
He peed, then washed his hands. He checked himself in the mirror, pleased to see the gel in his hair was holding up nicely. He had a brief moment to wonder if he should maybe cultivate a moustache but decided, as always, that he'd probably look like an actor in a porno if he did that. Or worse, his father.
On his way back down the short hall he ran into a man he'd seen at the club a couple of other times he'd been there. He didn't know anything about him, just that he was incredibly good looking. Tall, with a swimmer's build and shaggy black hair hanging in one caramel-colored eye. Tonight he was wearing tight leather pants and a red shirt with slices cut through the front at regular intervals, showing bits of pale flesh beneath.
They nodded at each other as Jimmy passed, but this time the guy reached out and put his hand on the far wall, blocking the doorway. "Hey."
"Hey," Jimmy replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "There something you wanted?"
"I've seen you around," the other guy said. He had a whisky voice, deep and warm. "My name's Brett."
"Jimmy."
They studied each other for a minute, and Jimmy's nerves started dancing. Was this guy actually interested in him? He'd been on the receiving end of male attraction a time or two, but this was the first time he actually felt he might be attracted back.
"Buy you a drink?" Brett asked.
"I'm here with someone," Jimmy said apologetically.
"That frilly thing that was all up in your lap?"
Jimmy just shrugged. Brett looked at him, considering, then nodded.
"Will you wait here?"
"Yeah."
He watched Brett head over to the bar, leaning in close to talk into someone's ear, and then pointing over to the table where Jenna was impatiently waiting for her date to return. The guy at the bar went over, sat down, and started talking to her. Whatever he was saying, it made Jenna brighten right up and start preening.
"How about that drink now?" Brett asked when he returned.
"Sure."
*o*o*o*
"Sure? You let him buy you a drink, just like that?" Blair's jaw felt like it had a faulty hinge, the way it kept dropping open. Jim had just admitted that he was attracted to a guy, which was even more unlikely than him snorting coke. Blair thought ruefully that he'd be spending his weekend off meditating so that he could process all this.
"Like I said, Sandburg, it was my crazy year." Jim tried to keep things light, but there was an undercurrent that Blair couldn't ignore. He had to know how much he was revealing about himself, telling this story. And maybe that was the whole point. Maybe this was his way to tell Blair some things he otherwise was unable to say.
"Crazy year. Right. So, he bought you a drink. Then what?"
*o*o*o*
Jimmy and Brett sat at the bar, each knocking back a shot of scotch. It burned pleasantly down Jimmy's throat; his old man was fond of the stuff and he'd snitched his share of it. He still preferred beer, but William Ellison didn't consider that a worthy beverage to keep around the house.
"You go to Rainier?" Brett asked.
"Townie," Jimmy replied. It was the truth, and it kept him from having to give his age. "You?"
"Junior. Science major. Swim team."
They had to practically shout to be heard over the old Screamin' Jay Hawkins song pumping out of the speakers.
"Nice," Jimmy said with a shrug.
"You wanna dance?" Brett asked.
Jimmy didn't know what to say, so he popped a handful of peanuts in his mouth. Another guy had just asked him to dance. It filled him with a thrill of the forbidden. And a little voice, what he'd come to call his anti-conscience, cheered at what the thought of his son dancing with another man would do to his father.
Trying to act casual, Jimmy nodded. "Sure."
He followed Brett to a more secluded area of the club, where they wouldn't be so easily seen, just as the song switched over to Kashmir. Not sure what to do, he just started dancing. It was something he was pretty good at, and enjoyed doing. Plus he knew how good he looked while he was doing it, because enough girls had told him so. Brett moved in behind him, copying his movements and then settling his hands lightly on Jimmy's hips.
A different kind of thrill skimmed along Jimmy's spine, and he moved back ever so slightly to get a bit more contact. He felt less awkward here on the dance floor than he'd felt at the bar, and so he didn't flinch when Brett leaned in to murmur in his ear.
"You look so hot."
He flushed at the compliment, and added a bit more sway to his hips. Brett's hands tightened their grip. When Jimmy put his own hands on top of them, Brett spun him around and pulled him in for a kiss. It was his first kiss with a man and the top of his head nearly came off by the time it was over. No kiss with a girl had ever been that amazing, that sexy. That forbidden. It was so good, he pulled Brett's head in for more and pressed against him, feeling the heat bleed through his clothes and into his skin. This high sure beat the hell out of anything he could snort up his nose.
*o*o*o*
"Holy shit," Blair breathed. "I don't believe this. Did you…I mean, were you…?"
"No, and no." Jim's eyes were still clouded with remembrance. "We made out, and it was probably the hottest thing I ever did. I went back to The Scream once more after that, and we hooked up again. But we never had sex, never met up with each other after that last time."
"Did your dad find out?"
"Of course he did. Steven heard it from someone who'd seen me, and he told Dad. Lost my car. Probably lucky I didn't lose my life." Jim sighed. "I always had fond memories of this place."
Blair rubbed a hand over his face. Jim. Making out with another guy. It felt like his whole world had tilted on its axis and he was trying to hold on as all his preconceived notions dropped away.
"Was he the only one?" he heard himself ask.
Jim shrugged. "There were the occasional…encounters, when I worked in Vice. Just women since then."
Now it was Blair's turn to sound wistful. "Man, I wish I could've known you back then. I didn't know you liked to dance."
"Haven't done it in a long time," Jim said. He looked suddenly shy as he held his hand out. "Dance with me?"
Blair stared stupidly at the hand. "What?"
"Dance with me."
He looked into Jim's eyes, to see if he was trying to be funny, but saw only anxiety and a hopefulness that made his chest tighten. He put his hand in Jim's and the smile he got in return was tentative but more beautiful because of it. Blair was pulled in close to Jim's chest, and wrapped in his friend's strong arms. The bigger man began to hum, moving them in time to the music he was making. Blair didn't recognize the tune, but it hardly mattered. Jim moved him slowly around what used to be the dance floor and was now just sagging boards littered with leaves, food wrappers and scraps of filthy clothing. But Blair didn't see the room; all he saw was Jim.
"He was right. You do look hot."
Jim grinned down at him, his blue eyes dark from the dim light, or his growing desire, or both. Blair didn't much care. He rested his head on his friend's chest, feeling the vibration of the humming.
"How about you, Chief?" Jim asked after a while. "You ever…you know. Been with a guy?"
"A couple, back in college. I like to keep my options open, you know?"
"I can dig it," Jim said with a laugh.
Blair tilted his head back to look at his friend, feeling a warm glow spreading through him at the love he saw reflected back at him. It left him a bit breathless and he closed his eyes, committing that look to memory. Just in case the magic swirling around them dissipated once they stepped back outside.
"Blair?" Jim asked hesitantly.
Blair opened his eyes, just in time to see his friend's mouth moving toward his own. Their first kiss was soft and sweet, full of promises, and he never wanted it to end. This whole night had taken on a golden glow and he was half afraid it was all just a dream.
"Wow," he said when Jim finally broke the kiss, panting lightly.
"Yeah," Jim agreed. He rested his forehead against Blair's, one hand moving up his back to twine into his curls. "Is this okay?"
"No. It's amazing." Blair rubbed his cheek against Jim's. "Thank you, for sharing your story with me."
"I want to share everything with you," Jim whispered.
Blair hugged him tightly, burying his face in his friend's neck. "God, I want that too. You have no idea."
"Home?"
"Home."
Jim blew out the candles and took Blair's hand in his, guiding him back out of the decrepit building and onto the sidewalk. They climbed up into the truck and Jim pointed it toward the loft. As they drove away, Blair sent up a silent thank you to the two fighting men that had drawn Jim back to this place, and whatever force had allowed him to open up and share so much of himself. It was a rare night and he'd never been happier to have a weekend off in all his life.
"So, did you see Star Wars when it first came out?" he asked, reaching over to grab Jim's hand.
Jim flashed him a quick grin. "Hell no. I did see Smokey and the Bandit, though."
Blair rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that seems like the perfect macho male movie to interest you."
"How many times did you sneak in to see Star Wars, Sandburg?"
"I'm pretty sure the statute of limitations has run out on that, Jim."
"We'll see," Jim said. His tone was stern, but he tugged on Blair's hand until he could get it up to his lips for a kiss.
Blair sighed. "God bless the seventies."
AN: Inspiration for this fic hit when I was listening to this song and I wrote the whole thing out the same day. It was fun popping back to the seventies and imagining Jim's life at that time. Couldn't see him going the disco route, so I punked him up a bit.
I've never been totally clear on the age difference between Blair and Jim. I know that according to canon, Blair was born in 1969. In this fic there are nine years separating them. If anyone has more info on that, I'd love to know it!
As always, thanks for the read and I hope you review and let me know how I'm doing!