Warning 1: My very first snippet. Please be gentle.

Warning 2: Blair's a cop in this story.

Summary: DawnCapp, List Mama to the Sentinel Angst List once decreed: "Since I have nothing to do but study, go to classes, do research, train the puppy AND sit at my computer and read fanfic (on account of the rain), you are all to write snippets about Blair being cold and wet. Mandatory. Due in two hours." So there you have it, Blair cold and wet.

Disclaimers: Petfly and Paramount own the boys. This snippet is not intended to infringe on any copyrights belonging to the PTBs.


RAIN, RAIN, GO AWAY



Rimolod






"Gotta pay your dues, man. Welcome to the squad, rookie." Blair curled his lip in disgust as he mimicked the earlier conversation in the bullpen. He pulled his coat tighter around his body. The overhang above him just barely kept the rain off his shoes, but did nothing to keep the biting wind from slicing through his body. "I hope I get a cold, Jim, because I have every intention of making your life miserable with my hacking and coughing."

Blair looked down the street toward the blue and white truck and stuck out his tongue. Yes, it was childish, but it made him laugh which put him in a better humor.

He tried warming his hands over the trash bin with its low flickering flame, but despite his gloves, he found he could barely bend his fingers.

He had been standing in the alleyway for over an hour, watching for any sign of Victor Hoskins, fugitive and money launderer. The DAs office finally had enough evidence against the accountant to press charges which would stick, but everyone was hoping the little weasel would turn on his boss, Francis Viocatta.

Word on the street was that Victor was holed up in Cascade's low rent district, trying to get his affairs in order before he fled north into Canada. The whole team was positioned around the building. Simon and Jim sat in Jim's truck a half a block north of their targeted building. Rafe and Henry to the south. Joel was in the cafe across the street taking in the big picture. And he, he was the designated homeless guy.

"You hanging in there, Sandburg? You haven't complained in over three minutes," Jim's voice asked quietly from the earpiece which was hidden under Blair's mane of hair.

"Bite me, Jim."

"You know, you might try singing that old children's song. Rain, rain, whatever."

"Laugh it up, big guy. I know where you live."

"I'll tell you what, Sandburg. If Victor doesn't show up in ten minutes, I'll buy you a cup of hot cocoa."

"You better be prepared to buy it by the gallon, Ellison."

"Cocoa's gonna have to wait, gentlemen," Joel hissed into the mic. "Our quarry just stepped out of the building."

"All right, people, let's bring him in," Simon said with quiet authority, as the detectives stepped out of their waiting vehicles.

Victor noticed the sudden movement, his eyes darting back and forth down the street before he sprinted toward the alley and Blair.

"Police, freeze!" the newest detective yelled as he reached for his gun, but realized, belatedly, that his hand wouldn't grip the handle.

Victor plowed into him, intent on running past him and down the alley; however, Blair used his shoulders to ram Victor back into the brick wall.

"I said freeze!" Blair gritted out as he tried to grab Victor's arm, but the accountant slammed his elbow back into Blair's chest. Afraid he'd lose his quarry, Blair wrapped his arms around Victor's chest, dragging them both down into a large puddle of rain water.

"FREEZE!" Henry yelled as he and Rafe arrived, guns drawn, with Jim and Simon seconds behind them.

Knowing he was outgunned, Victor raised his hands and allowed himself to be frisked and cuffed.

"How are you doing, Chief?" Jim asked, picking his guide off the wet concrete.

"Cold and wet is my world, man," Blair murmured.

Taking his guide by the hand, Jim all but dragged his friend across the street and into the cafe.

"Two cocoas," Jim called to the waitress behind the counter. "Keep your coat on, Chief," he added, taking off his own jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.

"What are you doing, Jim?" Blair asked, wide-eyed as he turned to face his partner.

Without a word, Jim removed the gloves from his guide's clenched fists and placed each of Blair's hands in his armpits. A slight hitch in his breath was the only indication Jim gave as to how cold Blair's hands were. Blair watched with a proud grin as his sentinel turned down his touch dials.

Flushing slightly, Blair closed his eyes when he began to feel traces of warmth penetrate his hands. But moments later, his hands began to burn as if he had dipped them into the flames of the trash can outside. He tried to pull them from their haven, but Jim held on tight. Blair began to pant and Jim gently pushed him back into a seat, not releasing his grip until his guide breathed a gentle sigh of relief.

"Thanks, man," Blair said softly.

"Not a problem." Jim released his hands when the waitress came with their mugs. "Now drink your cocoa. We still have reports to fill out."

"Oh, now I get it! I can't type our reports unless my fingers can move independently of each other."

"Now you understand why we made you a detective, Junior." Jim laughed, evading the playful cuff from his friend. "You may be cold and wet, but you're still the rookie."

--End


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