Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount, and The SciFi Channel.
Much appreciation goes to Shallan for her beta work.
Written in response to Angie's (long, long ago) challenge on the CT list.
Originally published in Sensory Overload #7.
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Carole
Closing the door behind him with a soft ~click~, Jim Ellison came to a sudden stop, surprised and more than a little alarmed to discover a large number of boxes piled haphazardly beside the couch.
"Sandburg?" Jim called uneasily, setting his duffle bag down next to the door. When there was no immediate response, he strode rapidly and purposefully toward the downstairs bedroom. Peering around the partially open french doors, he muttered, "Thank God," relieved to see that Sandburg's room was in its normal disheveled state and, more importantly, there were no tell-tale signs of packing that would indicate his Guide's imminent move.
"So, what's inside the boxes, Chief?" Jim wondered aloud. Curiously making his way toward the pile of multi-sized cartons, his inspection was cut short when Sentinel hearing picked up the sound of familiar footsteps in the hallway.
"Oh, hi, Jim," Blair called out in surprise as he entered the loft, precariously balancing a tall stack of books in his arms. "You're back early. I didn't think the conference was over until tomorrow."
"Tomorrow's just a wrap-up, so I decided to come home," Jim explained. Moving quickly, he grabbed the textbooks that were threatening to topple from the top of the pile before rescuing Blair from the rest of his load. "Where do you want your books, Chief?"
"The coffee table is fine," Blair directed gratefully, dropping his filled-to-the-brim backpack on the couch.
Straightening up with a muffled groan after carefully placing the heavy books on the small table, Jim's attention was again drawn to the mysterious mound of boxes. "Sandburg, what is all this stuff?"
Blair looked puzzled. "My books?"
"No, these boxes."
Blair hesitated, his eyes flickering across the cartons for just an instant before he answered, "Oh, just some boxes."
"Just some boxes?" Jim questioned doubtfully, frowning at the apparent evasion.
"Uh, huh. Hey, are you hungry?" Blair checked his watch. "It's past dinner time. We could try that new Thai place over by the mall."
"Yeah, sounds good, but about these boxes..."
"Great!" Blair exclaimed. "Let's go!"
Watching in astonishment as Blair practically flew toward the door, Jim put out a hand, bringing his partner to a sudden halt. When Blair failed to meet his gaze, he reached over to gently lift the younger man's chin until their eyes met. "I know there's something going on, Chief. Your heart is racing a mile a minute." He took a deep breath, then forced himself to ask, "Are you moving out?"
"Moving out?" Blair echoed, blinking in surprise. "No, of course not."
Relief flooded through Jim again. Gesturing toward the couch, he asked, "Then what are all the boxes for?"
"Oh, you thought..." Blair shook his head. "They're not empty boxes, Jim. They came in the mail this morning."
"The mail?" Now Jim was puzzled. "Who are they from?"
"Well... this is really embarrassing."
"Just tell me," Jim encouraged softly.
"Yeah, okay," Blair relented. With a rueful smile, he shrugged out of his jacket and turned to hang it up before continuing. "Do you remember the night I had that really bad cold?" he queried. "I was planning to go on that stake-out with you, but I was sneezing and my head was pounding and I was coughing up that gross green-"
"Sandburg," Jim interrupted, clearing his throat loudly. "I really don't need to hear all the disgusting details."
"Oh, sorry. Well, you were gone and I stayed up late to work on that journal article, you know, the one about the--"
"Chief," Jim interrupted for the second time. "I'd love to hear about the amazing exploits of the..." he paused, trying to remember the correct name, "...Hamayami tribe some time, but right now I want to know about--"
"The who tribe?" Blair broke in.
The famous Ellison glare made an appearance. "Sandburg," Jim growled.
With a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping as his last ditch attempt at misdirection failed, Blair finally confessed, "Ikindoforderedsomestuff."
Jim snorted. "Chief, I may be a Sentinel with hyper-active hearing, but I have no idea what you just said."
Blair reluctantly repeated his words, this time slowly and clearly. "I kind of ordered some stuff."
"Kind of?" Jim repeated, eyebrows raised.
"Okay, I ordered some stuff." Shoving his backpack to the side, Blair sank down into a comfortable position on the couch, legs tucked criss-cross beneath him. "Jim, I was really out of it and I was watching all of those infomercials on channel 26 and everything looked so cool and they said only the first 100 callers would get the special prices so..." he broke off with a sheepish chuckle.
"You didn't?!" Jim gave Blair an incredulous look, dropping down heavily on the couch beside his partner.
Blair shrugged helplessly. "I did."
Shaking his head, Jim asked, "So, what exactly did you order?"
Blair blushed, reaching for the invoices scattered among essay papers on the coffee table. "An automatic litter box cleaner, all-purpose household cleaner, magic sweeper, self-sharpening knife, slow cooker, hair clippers, 30-day supply of vitamins, and a CD collection," he reeled off quickly, dropping each paper to the floor in turn.
Jim was stunned into silence for a long moment. Then, "You ordered all that?"
Blair nodded dejectedly.
"How much did you end up spending?"
"Ummmm... about six hundred dollars."
"Oh, my," Jim said, swallowing hard.
"I know," Blair choked out, rolling his eyes in dismay. "But I'm going to send it all back," he rushed to add.
"I would certainly hope so." Jim thought for a second, then shifted in his seat to stare at his partner in amazement. "Did you really order a litter box cleaner?"
"Yeah."
"And hair clippers?"
"Yeah," Blair mumbled again.
"Why in the world did you do that?" Jim managed to ask before bursting out in laughter.
"I have no idea," Blair admitted, chuckling a bit himself as he finally began to see the humor of the situation.
"I take it you planned to get rid of the evidence before I got back?" Jim teased.
Blair grinned cheekily. "I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me."
Jim just shook his head, looking at his friend with an affectionate smile. "Cute, Sandburg, real cute."
"Do you think you could give me a hand getting all this stuff to the post office tomorrow?"
Laughing softly, Jim patted Blair's arm. "Sure, no problem."
"Thanks, man," was Blair's heartfelt response. "I will never, ever, do this again."
"Still want to head out for some dinner?"
"Yeah, I'm starving!" Blair replied enthusiastically, swiftly leaning over to gather up the papers strewn across the floor.
"Me, too," Jim agreed, picking up the invoice that had landed next to his shoe. Casually glancing down at the paper in his hand, his face lit up with excitement. "Did you look at the CD collection?"
"No, what is it?"
"Legends of Rock and Roll."
"Oh," Blair simply commented, waving it off as inconsequential.
"I think we should keep it."
"No way, Jim!" Blair disagreed. "Everything's got to go back."
Oblivious to his partner's refusal, Sentinel vision quickly scanned the boxes piled on the floor. "Got it!" Jim exclaimed victoriously, pulling out a small, flat box.
"Got what?"
"Volume 4."
"What's so special about Volume 4?"
Jim spoke almost reverently. "Santana's Greatest Hits."
Rolling his eyes, Blair moaned, "I should have known."
"Come on, Chief. Let's keep this one."
Unable to resist Jim's pleading expression, Blair conceded. "Okay, but you pay for it."
Jim flashed Blair an indignant look. "But I didn't order it."
"But you want to keep it."
"But your name is on the bill," Jim retorted, fighting off the faint smile tugging at his mouth.
"That's not fair," Blair complained. "Jim! Jim!!"
Ignoring Blair's desperate attempts to get his attention, Jim opened the plastic wrapped CD with obvious delight. "Yes!"
"Jiiiiim!"
~end~