Disclaimer: The boys aren't mine. I just have fun with them. I'll return them safe and
    sound and maybe a little chunkier. They belong to Paramount and Pet Fly.

    Rated: G. This isn't beta'ed. All boo-boos are mine. Last warning.

    Summary: The Sentinel says NO birthday party, aren't you glad Blair doesn't listen!

    Author's Notes: This is dedicated to Richard Burgi on his birthday and to answer an
    unofficial challenge on the CascadeTimes List to do a piece for him. Feedback
    welcomed at blreeder@bellsouth.net. Be gentle -- I'm new at this.
 

This wasn't how he'd planned to spent Jim's birthday. Stuck in the Ford watching a
 house for a prep named Baxter Wheels to make a move. Jim didn't seemed to be in a
good mood anyway. The Wheels case had dragged on for two weeks now and they
were nowhere near a break. A stakeout was the only way they were going to catch the sly car thief redhanded and make it stick.

"So, Jim, why'd you veto birthday festivities this year?" Blair asked, watching the
neighborhood they were nestled in for the next ten hours.

Jim grunted, "Birthdays are for kids Sandburg. I told you to forget it. No party, no
dinner. Nothing. Got it?" His tone implying that this wasn't thread of conversation he
wanted to have.

"Naomi used to give me wild parties, even as a kid. Stay up all night, eat everything
and the gifts were pretty weird." His Guide was bouncing on the seat as he recalled
his younger days. "Naomi used to let me do anything I wanted. Then again, there were
more of her friends at these parties than mine so no one really missed me and I was
free to do whatever I wanted --"

"Take a breath Chief before you black out." Jim turned and looked at him. How the
 hell could the kid form a sentence with ninety words and no commas or periods was
 beyond him.

Blair inhaled deeply, grinning ear to ear, "Anyway, this one year, before I went off to
Rainier, I got slap happy drunk! I mean, man I was wasted! I --" He stopped
 remembering what else he did that night.

"You what, Chief?" Jim asked, curious now as to what Blair could have done that
 would make him stop mid-story.

Blair blushed and Jim felt the heat radiate up his neck to his cheeks. "Chief?"

Blair grinned and sorta bowed his head, "I stripped naked and crashed the party in the
house singing 'I'm King Henry the VIII."

Jim chuckled at first. He could see Blair was still thoroughly embarrassed over the
incident. "What'd Naomi do?"

Blair closed his mouth. Wrong story to tell, Sandburg! "Nothin'."

Jim schooled his face to a mask of seriousness, failing terribly. "What. Did. Naomi.
Do?"

Blair sighed, "Well, after I fell off the coffee table and crashed into the kitchen table
that was loaded with food, she made me get dressed and then marched me back out
into the livingroom."

Jim had turned fully in the seat now and was facing his partner. "And." He prompted,
clearly not going to drop the conversation.

Blair looked out the passenger window, his hands had ceased their wild story telling.
"She, uh, oh man."

"She what, Chief?" Jim prodded, enjoying his partners misery.

"She made me get back up on the coffee table in front of everyone." He said in a soft
voice.

"And." Jim prodded, again. His Guide's heartbeat was off the scale and if that blush
got any deeper he was going to need some aloe for it!

"She said, 'Blair, honey, how much have you had to drink?' and I said, in my best royal
voice, "I, King Henry the VIII have only had one half of one fifth of Jack Daniels."

That was it! Jim burst out laughing. Tears were forming in his blue eyes and his sides
began to ache from the strain. Blair sat looking at him, plain faced and stoic.

"I didn't think it was so funny the next morning."

"Oh, Chief, I can just imagine you!" Jim gasped. God, it felt good to laugh. He'd been
 so tense all week and his Guide knew it. And now, none of that matter. All that matter
 was this moment right now. Just them.

Blair gave him a dirty look. "Why don't you take you happy little birthday butt down
the corner and get some coffee."

Jim gales of laughter had died down a chuckle. His face was warm and pink from
laughing and his spirit was soaring. Only Sandburg could do that.

"No problem, Chief. No problem." Still snickering he got of the truck and disappeared
in the night shadows.

Blair waited until he saw Jim slip over to the next block before he grab his backpack
and set about his plan. "Glad you enjoyed my misery, Big Guy, but this'll teach you for
telling me to forget your birthday."

Jim slipped back into the truck as quietly as he left. Two cups of coffee balanced in
his hands. Blair reached over the seat and opened it door and then quickly slinked
back to his side.

"Bring the thermos next time, this crap cost me a weeks salary." Jim grumbled as he
passed Blair his cup and closed the door.

Instantly, he knew something was amiss. Slowly he turned and looked at Blair. "What
the hell is on your head, Chief?"

"A hat." Blair replied.

Jim switched on the doom light, totally against stakeout rules. The interior of the truck
was draped in party streamers and favors. A party hat sat on the seat, in the center, for
Jim.

"Happy Birthday, Jim." Blair said softly and extended his hand. In it was on large
 chocolate cupcake with a small candle on it.

Jim was speechless. He stared at the cupcake like it were an alien. "Blair, I, uh, I don't
know what to say."

A smile spread across Blair's face, "Don't say anything. Just know that I couldn't let
you're birthday 'just go by' as you put it."

Taking the cupcake, Blair lit the tiny candle and Jim then blew it out. Blair skipped the
traditional song knowing Jim would throttle him!

Eating their cupcakes and drinking coffee the silence was as warm and comforting as
an old blanket. Neither felt the need to talk. The silence and the bond between them
did it for them.

"Oh, there's one more thing." Blair said, suddenly. Digging through his backpack he
 dragged out a neatly wrapped package with a large bow on top. "Just a little
 something. Since you didn't want to do this anyway."

"Chief, you didn't have to do this." Jim stammered. "I --"

"Just open it, Jim and stop analyzing it to death." Blair enjoyed throwing Jim's favorite
line back at him.

Tearing open the paper with care Jim pulled a picture frame from the tissue paper.
Flipping it over his heart froze. There in a sterling silver 5X7 frame was a picture of
the two of them that day in the Bullpen when Simon had given him the Detective
 shield. Standing arm in arm after the 'noogie hug' they smiled for the camera.

Trust and love shown brightly in their eyes and their souls. Jim's face had lost the
 worried look he'd wore all that week and for the first time in months Blair felt relief at
 knowing that he'd finally made a decision.

 Across the top of the frame were etched the words: The end of the beginning. And
 across the bottom: It's about friendship.

Jim couldn't speak. Emotion as thick as jungle vines clogged his throat. Blair spoke
 instead. "I couldn't just forget. To forget would be like saying you didn't exist."

Blair cleared his throat and continued while he still could. "I'm glad you do, man."

Jim simply, in the only way he could show it, pulled Blair across the seat with his big
 arm into a huge hug. "Thanks Chief." He whispered Sentinel soft in Blair hair. "Thanks
 so much for everything."

 The End
 August 1999
 
 

 

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