THANKS: A big thanks goes to Shallan, my best and only Wonderbeta. Though she's busy as heck, she still took time out of her day to beta this for me! Thanks babe! Great big thanks to WulfPup, or my babe WonderWolf, for hosting my rambles. Gracias, mi amiga! A grinning thanks to Nicole Miller for suggesting the warning, and for her encouragement as well. Thanks to everyone else that sent me great LoCs! The biggest of thanks to Spirit for giving me the ability to write, and for pointing me towards these great gals! *Grin*
A SPECIAL NOTE: Shallan and I had a wee bit of a disagreement about the 'oh bother' bit near the end. She thought that Jim would never say such a thing, and that Blair likely would. While I agreed, I reminded her that this was purely a product of my frame of mind while writing the dribble. For those of you who agree with Shallan, just remember, this is a trip into the Anna Zone *gulp* ;D
Enjoy!
Anna Rennie-Clark
It was unusual for Jim to be so cold, to feel the draft so intensely in his bones. The old Army man was supposed to be unsusceptible to the elements, and with the addition of his senses, able to control to an exact extent the effects these things had on his body. But now it seemed he had been stripped of this incredible gift.
Which was why he was snooping around in Blair's room, hoping for a miracle. Hoping that Blair had by chance left a pair of his socks behind. Jim had put all of his laundry in with the communal load, which included his undergarments, so naturally his feet were freezing and he had no socks. Leave it to Ellison to have purged his wardrobe of all less than perfect socks, of any with even the slightest of holes, then effectively cut himself off from any other source of warmth for his little piggies.
"Get a grip, Ellison," Jim murmured. "If Sandburg finds out that you've started calling your toes little piggies, he may very well get it in his head to find out if any other climate discrepancies have such an effect on you. You could very well be headed for Africa."
Gingerly, Jim opened the top drawer of Blair's dresser. He searched the wooden confines for any sighting of the precious accessories, but unfortunately found none. Sighing in frustration, he slid yet another drawer open, searching it in a similar fashion as its predecessor. Just as Ellison was about to slide the storage device home on its tracks, a smallish lump, covered in various shades of blue, caught his eye. And it even looked like a pair of socks.
"Yes!" the cop hissed in victory. He reached into the drawer and pulled free his sought-after prise. He clutched them in one hand, while with the other he set right his friends room, then turned and headed out to the livingroom. Plonking down on the couch, Jim pulled the socks apart.
And stopped short.
Toe socks. They were toe socks. Of all the clothing items Sandburg had to leave behind.... toe socks? Oh, bother. To the beleaguered cop, it seemed the Fates always picked him to play these cruel jokes on. All he wanted was a nice, wwarrrmm pair of socks, comfortable and with no holes. But of course, he just had to get.... toe socks.
"Man, Pooh sure knew what he was talking about. Oh bother." Reluctantly, with an extra furtive glance around the livingroom to rule out the presence of hidden cameras, James Ellison began to pull on the pair of toe socks.
At first, the sensation of each of his piggies having its own home was really weird. As soon as the other sock was on, and Jim was walking around, he found he liked the way his feet felt. Not to mention the fact that his once freezing footsies were now toasty piggies, each roasting in its own little blanket.
Maybe Sandburg wouldn't notice that they were missing.
THE END