Oh yeah. While I was typing this in today, I had sooooo many slashy thoughts run through my head. I have never written slash, but if I were to start, this story would be converted and would be my first. It would be like sooooo easy man! Would you hate me if I did? :o(
"I do this every year and every year I swear, never again." Grumbled James Ellison. He sat at the kitchen table in the loft working on his tax return. Piles of receipts, stacks of papers, and tax booklets covered the table. Jim sat with one hand supporting his aching head and the other holding a pencil, using the eraser of the pencil to punch numbers into the small calculator. He frowned at the number that was displayed. "Wait!" He started to look around frantically. "I know there's another one here some where." Jim started prowling, again, through the piles looking for the receipt he had in mind, hoping that it would be the one to give him the magic number he wanted. He wished he had listened to Blair last year when he suggested a filing system for his receipts. This year he would make some changes.
The door to the loft opened and Blair stepped inside. His mouth fell open just as his back pack hit the floor. It looked like a tornado had hit the loft. Doors stood open on cabinets, papers all in the floor. Boxes scattered around with their contents spilled out onto the floor as well. Blair took in the mess in amazement.
Jim, who was usually so anal about neatness, had really done a good job trashing the place. Blair was only slightly upset that he hadn't been there to help. It would have been fun! Whatever he had been looking for must have been important. Blair walked over to the table eyeing the scattered documents and then his frustrated sentinel. "What's up Jim?" He asked a little too cheerfully.
Blair was answered by a tired and puzzled voice. "Taxes."
Blair's eyes widened. Oh shit. It's that time again? Then he remembered that it was April 13th. Had it been a year already? Blair had, had his taxes done and already had his check back. I don't understand why Jim puts it off every year. Sure it's a pain in the ass to have to deal with. But Jim always gets a decent return. If they owe me money I want it back now! Blair mused. He could tell Jim was frustrated. So he took a few steps backwards, away from the table. Slowly and quietly, he slipped away. He didn't want to get roped into helping Jim again this year. Doing paperwork at the station was one thing. But helping Jim with his taxes usually turned into an argument of what is and what isn't aloud.
As Jim continued to sift through receipts, Blair looked around the loft again. He walked to the mess behind the couch and began picking things up and placing them back in the boxes from which they came.
Thirty minutes later Blair heard Jim growl in disgust. "I know it's here. I saw it the other morning."
Blair peeped over the couch. "What's that Jim?"
"The receipt for the new tires on the truck. I can use that. I've been looking everywhere for it."
Blair stood up leaving the mess at the coffee table to enter the kitchen "You've looked everywhere?" Blair asked, skeptically.
Jim gave a look to Blair that said, Don't play with me junior. "Yes everywhere."
Blair pulled a magnet from the fridge and removed a piece of paper. "Does this look familiar?" He grinned, waving the paper at Jim.
"Where was that?" Jim scowled.
"On the fridge."
"How did it get there?"
"I put it there."
"Why in the hell did you do that Chief?"
"Because someone had thrown it in the trash. I thought that it might be important so I pulled it out and put it on the fridge for safe keeping." He finished, dropping the receipt on the table in front of Jim. Blair was smiling smugly as he went back to the coffee table to finish sorting the paperwork that Jim had tossed around.
"Who threw it in the garbage?"
Blair stopped his work again and looked in Jim's direction. Must be stress. He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "You did."
Jim looked shocked. "Impossible, I would have never thrown something like that away. In my business it's too important, so I *know* I didn't throw it away."
"Did too." Came a quiet but playful voice on the other side of the couch out of Jim's view.
"Did not." Jim stuck with his story.
"Whatever works in your little reality man." Blair giggled.
Jim had to smile. It felt good to smile. He really wanted to take a break but he knew that this had to get done. He had been putting it off long enough. I really should just pay someone to do them, but why part with the money when I can do it myself?
He picked up his pencil to enter the next figure. The pencil was dull. "Damn!." He exclaimed.
Blair jumped. Peeping back over the couch again he saw Jim searching for something beneath a stack of papers. Then Jim found a pencil. Blair smiled.
Jim's jaw was set with determination, as he got back down to the business at hand. Determined that he would finish this tonight.
Blair listened as Jim mumbled out loud. Reading different steps and instructions, often stopping and re-reading them to make sure he understood.
Blair began making dinner. He didn't want to bother Jim asking him what he wanted, so he went through the cabinets to see what they had on hand. Pasta, canned peaches, which was granted a frown from the young man. He preferred the fresh ones. In the freezer he found left over sauce. The fridge held the makings for one heck of a salad. Blair smiled as the dinner menu began to take form. He busied himself still listening to Jim working diligently at the table.
After finishing his dinner Blair took his plate and salad bowl back into the kitchen. After placing the dishes in the dishwasher, he watched Jim. He looks like a monkey doing a math problem. Blair mused. Then looking at the fruit bowl he picked off a banana and gave it to Jim.
Jim eagerly took the banana, mumbling his thanks, still absorbed in his work. Blair grinned and made his way back to the living room to finish watching the Titanic special on PBS.
Soft sounds filled the loft from the stereo system. Classical music combined with the sounds of ocean waves. It was just right to set a relaxing mood in the room and Jim found himself enjoying it. He was sure that Blair had bought it at one of those nature shops that the kid frequented.
Jim looked over the documents one last time, folded them and placed them into the envelope. Sealing and dropping it on the table in front of him, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Finished, I'm finally finished." He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, breathing through his nose the way Blair had shown him to relax, when he caught a mixture of wonderful smells.
He looked around the loft. It was spotless. Blair had cleaned up the mess Jim had made plus done the normal cleaning and dusting too.
On the bar in the kitchen was a note standing on edge, so that it could easily be seen.
Jim got up and read the note.
Hey Big Guy!
Your dinner is in the oven. I hope it's still warm enough. There's a salad in the fridge. I have already eaten, I didn't want to break your concentration, so I figured you wouldn't mind.
PS, Did too.
Jim looked around the loft wondering where his normally energetic buddy was. He listened and found a steady heart beat coming from the living room. Jim laid the note down and approached the couch. There he found Blair sleeping peacefully. Jim smiled, and covered the young man with the blanket that covered the back of the couch.
Looking again at the spotless loft he knew that the kid had to be exhausted. His stomach growled so he went back into the kitchen to eat. He opened the oven and found pasta, garlic bread and to his delight a small peach cobbler. He sat the hot food on the bar and then went to the fridge retrieving the salad and a beer. The table was in such a mess, he chose to eat at the bar.
He pushed the empty baking dish, which had held the cobbler, away from himself. Feeling content, and now somewhat lazy, he cleared the dishes from the bar and placed them in the dishwasher. After turning it on he decided it was time to take care of his other mess. He picked up an old shoe box that was sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He began placing the documents back into the box, not in any particular order. Jim didn't care now, he was finished with them. When the box was full and the table cleared, Jim turned out the kitchen lights and walked toward the stairs turning off the stereo on the way. Blair stirred momentarily at the absence of sound. Jim froze listening to his friend. Finally sure that Blair was sleeping soundly again, Jim went up to his room and shoved the box beneath his bed. He undressed and flopped heavily onto the bed. Pushing and repositioning the pillows beneath his head, he finally found some comfort. The Sentinel closed his eyes, allowing his hears to pick up the sounds of the loft. Soft creaks and moans of old lumber and pipes that made up the loft, and the dripping in the tub from old seals that needed replacing. Then he heard the one sound that made him complete. The constant thumping of his friends heart. The life source that kept his sanity in check. Jim smiled as he listened to the familiar sound. The sound that he now depended on . He allowed the gentle rhythm to relax his mind and will him into a much needed sleep.
The next morning the loft was filled with sounds that Jim found familiar and smells that he found enticing. The scent of blueberries and coffee teased and tickled Jim's sensitive nose. He opened one eye to check the time. 9:20. He stretched and yawned feeling the warmth of the sun, that was streaming through the windows, on his exposed skin. Wanting to sleep a little longer but finding the aroma of breakfast just too much to resist, he sat up in bed and yawned again. "I hope you are making plenty Sandburg." Jim mumbled, during yet another yawn. "I'm starving."
Blair flipped a blueberry pancake and then stirred the batter for the next batch. He took a sip of coffee and noticed Jim coming down the stairs. "Morning Jim." He beamed, pulling Jim's coffee mug from the cabinet and placing it on the island before going back to check on the pancakes.
Jim entered the kitchen scooping up his mug, as he walked passed the island. "How did you sleep chief?"
"Okay I guess. Just a little stiff."
"No wonder. You slept on the couch all night."
Blair twisted his head trying to work the stiffness from his neck. "Yeah, I know don't remind me."
Jim sat his cup down on the counter and walked over to Blair. Blair jumped a little, caught off guard by Jim's actions.
"Calm down Chief." Jim said as he placed his hands on Blair's shoulders, working them in a circular motion. "Geez you're tense. Your muscles are in knots." Jim worked the muscles a little longer, then feeling them loosen up, he patted Blair on the back. "Thanks for last night Chief. You really out did yourself."
"No problem man." Blair grinned. He handed Jim a plate full of pancakes. "Here, they're best when they're still hot."
"Did you do some shopping?" Jim asked, cutting the fragrant pancakes into smaller bite size pieces.
"Yeah, I got up early this morning, and all I could think of was Blueberry pancakes. I just had to have 'em. So I figured a quick trip to the store was a small price to pay." Blair grinned, flipping a pancake onto his own plate.
Jim took a bit bite. "Ummmm, I'll say. These are great!" Jim rolled the pancake around in his mouth enjoying all it had to offer. "Fresh blueberries?" He asked, eye brows raised.
"Yep." Blair answered, coming to the table.
Jim smiled. The kid was really just too much at times. "What do you have planned today?"
Blair quickly chewed and swallowed before answering. "Not much I guess." He answered thoughtfully. "Why?"
Jim studied the pancakes on his plate, deciding they needed more syrup. Anything to keep from looking the kid in the eyes. "Oh I just thought we could do some shopping today."
"What kind of shopping?" Blair asked, popping another bite of blueberry heaven into his mouth.
"Something to help me be a little more organized." Jim said sheepishly.
Blair peeped over the coffee cup he was now holding. He smiled, a little surprised then he decided to play a little. "Organized?" He asked, innocently. "Organize what?"
Jim saw right through the young man. "Smart Ass!"
Blair laughed, nearly choking on his food. He coughed a few times drawing a concerned look from Jim.
"You okay?"
Blair waived the older man off. "Yeah, I just got strangled a little." He took another sip of coffee trying to get rid of the tickle that remained in his throat. He wiped his watery eyes and then continued. "Really, what do you need?"
"Well, I'm taking the advice you gave me last year about being organized. I am *not* going to go through this again next year."
"No problem. I'll get you fixed up man. Next year will be a breeze. Maybe you'll even get them done earlier." Blair added, eyebrows raised in a hopeful expression.
"Don't push it Chief. Let's get me organized first." Jim said, snagging the last bit of pancake from his plate just as Blair picked the plate up from the table. "Oh, by the way Chief?"
Blair was now rinsing the dishes in the sink. He looked back at Jim who was heading toward the stairs. "Yeah Jim?"
"Did not!" Jim tried to make a run for the stairs and to the safety of his room.
Blair looked confused for a moment and then caught the meaning of Jim's words. Jim wasn't fast enough for the pitcher of the Cascade PD'd softball team. Blair balled up a dish towel and threw it across the loft, hitting Jim squarely in the head. The make shift ball had been delivered so quickly that it didn't have time to unwind, causing a smart sting when it made contact with Jim's head.
Blair's eyes widened as the Sentinel turned around on the stairs and proceeded to come in Blair's direction. "Oops." Blair said, grinning sheepishly, now afraid for his life. After being chased around the kitchen, including several laps around the island trying to avoid the towel that Jim was swinging at Blair's rear, Blair finally made a break for his room. Jim barely skidded to a stop just in time to avoid the door slamming into his face. He could see the outline of Blair's body, in the fabric of the curtains, as the kid pressed his back into the door, trying to catch his breath.
Jim tapped lightly on the glass. He heard Blair's heart skip a beat. "Hey Blair, you okay? You sound a little......*winded*." He chuckled.
"Yeah right, winded. Bite me." Blair teased, still trying to catch his breath.
Jim raised and eyebrow. "You'd better watch what you say Chief, or you just might get what you wish for."
Blair heard Jim's hand on the door knob then noticed that it wasn't locked. In a swift move, Blair locked the door before Jim had turned the knob any further. Again he leaned back against the door. His heart practically trying to leap out of his chest. Finally, he turned to peep out of the french doors to his room. Jim was standing there with his arms folded, staring back at him. Blair stuck out his tongue. "Did too." I can say and do anything I want in here. Jim can't get me.
Then, suddenly, Jim turned and walked to the front door. Blair strained to see what Jim was doing by the small table that held the basket for their keys and things. Then he saw it. "Oh no, not that!" Blair panicked.
Jim came back to Blair's door with a black leather case in hand. Blair could almost hear it as Jim unzipped the case and retrieved one of the lock pick tools.
"I think you may want to change your story Chief." Jim said, as he inserted the tool into the lock of Blair's door.
Blair furrowed his brow, determined not to back down. Even though he knew that this was just play, and that Jim wouldn't hurt him, his heart still raced. "No way man. That's my story, and I'm stickin' too it."
Jim's lip curled mischievously as the lock clicked.
Blair backed away from the door, with his hands raised in defense. His only hope was to talk Jim out of whatever *torture* he was planning for the kid. "Come on Jim.....umm can we talk about this?"
Jim was still slowly walking towards Blair. "Nope. You've had your chance kid. Let me see...." He stood still for a moment, eyeing Blair's nervous state and rubbing his chin in thought. Oh this is just too easy. "What did you tell me to do?.....Bite you? Is that what you *really* want?"
Blair was shaking his head now. "Oh no man.....I was just teasin'. Come on Jim, enough is enough."
"I'll give you a choice. One of three things.....number one, you can admit that you were wrong, I *didn't* throw that receipt away, number two let me bite you like you so desire, or three......"
Blair looked at Jim. It didn't take a genius to guess what Jim had in mind for number three. And the worst part was, even though he knew how much Jim would enjoy it, he would probably pick number three.
"I get to do whatever I feel like doing for at least five minutes." Jim grinned while Blair gulped.
"Three" Blair said in a bare whisper.
"What was that? I didn't quite hear you." Jim had his hand up to his ear, milking this moment for all that it was worth.
Blair rolled his eyes. "Three! Are you happy? Three, three, three, three. There, go ahead do what you will. But I still say you threw it away! So go ahead, take me I'm yours."
Jim stood there for a moment, not ready for the kid to give in so easy. Oh well, I'll take it!
Jim threw Blair down on the bed and began to tickle him unmercifully. Blair squealed and twisted trying to escape the punishment that Jim was giving. "Oh Jim.....Man stop.....I can't breathe." This only made things worse, adding fuel to the fire. Again Blair tried to reason with Jim but still not fairing any better. "Jim....I'm gonna pee man....I mean it!" Blair gasped around giggles. Tears streaking down the sides of his face and into his hair.
Jim only laughed louder.
The end
