Disclaimer: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount, and The SciFi Channel.
Carole
"Got plans for tonight, Jim?" Simon asked, watching as Jim checked his watch and then hurriedly put his jacket on.
"Yeah," Jim smiled. "Blair's making a special dinner."
"What's the occasion?"
Jim shrugged. "He's been really busy with the start of a new semester, and I think he feels a little guilty about all the time that he's spent at the university this week."
"It has been pretty quiet around here without him," Simon chuckled.
"Are you admitting that you missed him?" Jim asked mischievously.
"Don't tell him that!" Simon exclaimed in mock horror.
"Your secret is safe with me, sir."
"Did you know that the kid called me three times this week to remind me that you shouldn't be going out alone?"
"Yeah, I know," Jim sighed affectionately. "He's been bugging me about it, too. He's afraid I'll zone without him around."
"So, what's he making? I hope it's not another one of those exotic recipes of his."
Jim shook his head as he grimaced, remembering his last introduction to a native dish. "Not this time. Blair's decided to use up some of the Y2K supplies that he bought."
"Don't tell me that he bought into the Y2K hysteria?" Simon laughed.
"Just a little, sir," Jim replied with a laugh of his own. "Three boxes of canned goods, ten cases of toilet paper, twenty-five jugs of bottled water, and enough candles to light the city."
"Oh, my."
"None of which was used," Jim added in amusement. "What about you, sir? Any plans?" he inquired.
Simon shook his head. "Nothing for tonight, but Daryl's coming over in the morning."
"Why don't you come over for a while, have dinner with us?" Jim suggested.
Simon considered the offer, then nodded. "Sounds good. Let me grab my coat and I'll be ready to go."
"Great!" answered Jim with a grin. "As the guest, you get to taste the food first."
"Six o'clock!" Blair moaned loudly as he checked the time again. "How can it be six o'clock already?"
He picked up the bread and placed it inside the oven next to the almost done casserole, then whirled to lift the laundry basket he had left next to the front door. "Okay, bread is in the oven, salad is ready, laundry still needs to be put away... I just know I'm forgetting something."
Blair dropped off his own freshly laundered clothes, then practically flew up the steps to Jim's bedroom to place his partner's clothes on the foot of the bed.
"Set the table!" Blair remembered, "I forgot to set the table." He jogged back down the staircase, then came to a surprised halt at the base of the stairs as he heard the sound of a key being placed in the lock. He took a step toward the door, then lost his footing as his stocking-clad foot slid out from under him.
"Chief!" Jim called out in alarm, seeing the welcoming grin on Blair's face change into fear as the younger man tried to regain his balance.
Blair was unable to stop his backward fall, and cried out as his head hit the bottom step with a thud.
"Blair?" Jim called worriedly, racing across the room to drop to his knees next to his partner.
Blair blinked his eyes slowly, and looked at Jim without speaking.
"Don't try to move yet," Jim cautioned. He placed his hands on Blair's shoulders. "Let me check you out first."
"Okay," Blair nodded, then winced at the pain that the movement caused.
"Chief, don't move!" Noting that Blair's head was tipped at an awkward angle, Jim used ultra-sensitive fingers to examine both neck and head carefully.
"How is he, Jim?" Simon asked, bending to peer over Jim's shoulder. "Is he alright?"
"I'm not sure yet," Jim answered. "Open your eyes, Chief," he directed as he saw Blair's eyes closing. "Stay awake."
"I will," Blair promised, as Jim carefully brushed his hands down both arms and legs, then double-checked his neck and the back of his head.
"How's your vision, buddy?" Jim asked. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Two," Blair immediately answered.
"Right! Now, don't move your head, just let your eyes follow my finger."
Blair's eyes tracked the path of Jim's finger above his head.
"Good," Jim sighed in relief. "You've got a bump on the back of your head, but I don't see any signs of a concussion. Any nausea? Dizziness? Does your back or neck hurt?"
"No," Blair responded. "Slight headache, that's it."
"Thank God."
"The bread!" Blair said in dismay, as the faint odor of burning bread reached his nose. He pushed himself up off the floor, intending to head for the kitchen.
"Slow down, Sandburg!" Jim remonstrated. "We'll take care of dinner. I want you sitting on the couch for a few minutes." He helped his young guide to his feet, then gave him a gentle push in the direction of the couch.
"Here, Sandburg."
Blair looked up to see Simon holding out a towel-wrapped ice pack.
"Thanks, Simon," Blair said gratefully, taking the ice pack and holding it against the back of his head. "Jim, the casserole should be done."
"I've got it, Chief," Jim called, removing the casserole from the oven.
"And the bread..." Blair added.
"I've got that, too," Jim said. "It's just a little singed around the edges. Simon, could you take care of setting the table and pouring the drinks."
"Sure," Simon responded.
"You feel up to eating?" Jim asked, moving across the room to perch on the coffee table in front of the couch.
"Yeah, I feel fine."
Jim nodded, then his gaze swung to the bottom of the staircase. "Well, I see why you fell."
Blair twisted around to follow Jim's gaze. "Why?"
"One of those water bottles you stored under the staircase must have been leaking. There's quite a puddle over there."
"Oh, I wondered why the bottom of my socks were wet," Blair said, lifting up his feet to examine them.
"Why don't you head over to the table," Jim suggested, pulling the wet socks off his partner's feet. "I'll take care of these, then grab a dry pair of socks for you."
"Okay."
By the time Blair had made it over to the kitchen table, Jim had placed a towel over the spill and was returning with a pair of rolled up socks. "Here you go," he said, tossing them in Blair's lap.
"Hey, Jim, my head still hurts a little," Blair said with a grin. "I don't know if I can reach way down there to put these on."
"Don't look at me, my hands are full," Jim said, carrying the salad to the table.
Blair's eyes widened in surprise as Simon snorted, then grabbed the socks out of his hands. "Just don't ever tell anyone about this," Simon warned, as he placed the dry socks on Blair's feet.
"I won't," Blair promised solemnly, trying to hide his smile.
"Who'd believe it anyway?" Jim added with a chuckle as he sat down.
"So, Sandburg," Simon began, taking his place at the table. "What is this?"
"I call it Y2K surprise," Blair said with a laugh. "I just opened a few cans, dumped it all together in the dish, and baked it for thirty minutes. Go ahead and try it."
Simon looked suspiciously at the casserole, then lifted a spoonful toward his mouth. As two sets of eyes followed the progress of his spoon, he hesitated. "Maybe you should taste it first."
"No thank you, sir," Jim said. "You're the guest."
"Yeah, Simon. Guests always go first," Blair insisted.
"The things I do for you two," Simon muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
Jim and Blair exchanged an amused grin as they watched Simon take a deep breath before cautiously tasting the food.
"Mmmm," Simon said happily, as a pleased smile spread over his face. "This is great!"
"It is?" Blair looked at Jim in surprise, then added with a laugh, "Uh, I mean, of course it is!"
Jim just chuckled as he picked up his spoon.
~end~
January 2000