Originally written as SA dues for Zou. :-) Thanks to Jen for the beta and to wolfpup for giving it a home!
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I don't make any money off them. If I did, I would be living in an eclectically decorated loft apartment in Vancouver, instead of an eclectically decorated bedroom in my parents' house in Virginia!
First, a note... I often joke that I write by candlelight, because I'm one of those people who just loves candles and I usually keep one or more burning when I curl up with my laptop to write. But last night, I was trying to figure out which of them was producing the scent I loved so much -- there were three, all scented... and I couldn't tell which was which... but I bet Jim could. Hence, the following fluff. Mainly to settle the hyperactive Muse down long enough to retype the notes from my psych and nursing lectures this morning. :-) For the record, this would be set sometime prior to Night Shift.
This isn't slash, or even pre-slash. It's just two guys being... silly. *G*
Audrey Lynne
Blair Sandburg was no Sentinel, but he was still able to hear his roommate coming up the stairs and through the door. Knowing how sensitive Jim Ellison's sense of smell would be to the candle's scents, the grad student quickly blew out the candles surrounding him. He'd been trying to write the latest chapter in his dissertation, and he found that they were really quite soothing to watch... the flame, flickering in the dim lighting of his room -- the smell relaxing him... of course, he also had the habit of turning to watch them burn for a moment, then glancing back to the computer's clock and realizing that ten minutes had gone by. Good thing I'm NOT a Sentinel, Blair thought, amused, pondering how easy it would be to completely zone out on such a thing.
Jim sniffed the air as he came into the bedroom. "My God, can't you decide on ONE?"
"Hmm?" Blair asked innocently, saving the file and setting his laptop aside. No need for Jim to read all about his fear-based responses yet.
"The smell. If you're going to burn more than one candle, can't they all smell alike?"
Blair's eyes widened. "Jim? You can tell the difference? Man, that is SO cool! What're they?"
"Don't you read labels, Sandburg?" Jim asked dryly.
"No, I mean... tell me, this could be something I could use!" Blair snatched up a pen and paper, ready to document.
"One's vanilla; that's easy..."
"Right!" Blair was surprised that Jim had given in so easily, but he wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth. "What else?"
Jim sniffed the air again. "Some kind of citrus, I think..." He frowned. "Who in the hell makes citrus-scented candles?"
"Oh, that's the aromatherapy one," Blair explained. "It's supposed to be for energy."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Do me a favor and use that one sparingly. You don't need it. You're the poster child for hyperactivity as it is."
Blair flashed him a cheeky grin. "Hey, it's not my fault the world can't keep up with me. "Okay, you got two. What're the other ones?"
"I wouldn't have pegged you as the 'blueberry' type, Chief..."
"It was on sale." Blair shrugged.
Jim frowned, looking at Blair. "They make candles that smell like pine needles?!"
"They make candles that smell like everything," Blair replied -- then frowned as well. "I don't have a pine one... that's... whoa, you ARE good! That's the air freshener I sprayed in here earlier -- like an hour before you got home! What's the other candle?"
Now it was Jim's turn for the sassy grin. "Lemon-lime, with just a hint of a cherry twist."
"Aw, c'mon, Jim, this is research!" Blair followed as Jim left the room.
Jim sat on the couch, mischief dancing in his eyes. "But I personally think you should have gone with the powder blue -- it matched your eyes SO well..."
Blair chuckled, shaking his head. "You are such an ass sometimes."
"Takes one to know one."
"Sounds like someone had a good day." Blair headed to the refrigerator to get a beer.
"Nope." Jim found the remote control, and turned the TV on. "Actually, it was kind of boring... long, endless... boring... mind-numbingly dull... boring..."
Blair searched through the kitchen drawers for a bottle opener, and eventually located one. He pried the cap off of the beer bottle and headed back into the living room. "You mentioned boring. Why?"
Jim threw his partner a mock seductive look. "Because you weren't there, my little creampuff."
Blair nearly choked. "Man... do NOT do that to me when I've got a mouth full of something! Your little CREAMPUFF?"
"You preferred 'guppy'?"
"And here I thought that your sense of humor was the only one not heightened," Blair replied, shaking his head.
"Oh, do that again... I just LOVE watching those curls bounce," Jim squealed with artificial glee.
Blair turned around. "All right, Jim, who spiked YOUR coffee this afternoon?" He could have played along, but that would have been too easy. Besides, he knew that the longer he resisted, the harder Jim would try.
"Didn't have any coffee," Jim called back, then looked contemplative. "You know what? They should make candles that smell like buttermilk donuts. I'd buy those."
"You MUST have had a boring day." Blair laughed, then finally gave in. "But now you're home and you're all mine, Pookie."
Jim giggled -- actually giggled -- and jumped up from the couch. "Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me!"
Blair snickered, and started running, knowing Jim would take the challenge and chase him. He'd had a pretty boring day as well. In the back of his mind, he knew this HAD to be in violation of a House Rule SOMEWHERE, but as long as Jim was willing to overlook it...
Jim doubled back across the living room to intercept Blair, leapt over the coffee table -- and groaned as Blair dashed out the door. He stuck his head out the door, calling down the hall after his Guide. "Keep a candle burning for me, Blair!"
Blair turned, grinning -- and then nearly shrieked with laughter as he saw the door of 204, directly off the stairs, shut. He collapsed onto the couch, still laughing, once he was back in the loft. "Oh, Jim... I think we have just erased any doubts that Mr. Josephs in 204 ever had about the two of us and our 'relationship'..."
"Okay, new rule," Jim allowed. "All pursuits must be kept inside the confines of the loft."
"Deal." Blair sprung up from the couch to run after Jim as the Sentinel turned and ran up the stairs.
Jim had the obvious size advantage -- and longer legs -- but Blair was quick... they nearly caught each other several times -- most notably right before Blair stepped on the edge of a throw rug that decided to slide out from under him. Jim dove forward to catch him, and managed to, however awkwardly. Blair was about halfway between standing up and lying on the floor, cradled in this strange position by Jim's arms. Jim bent over him, trying to maintain balance for both of them.
Then a voice caught the attention of both men. "Jim? Your door's open, is everything -- oh, Lord. I do NOT want to know."
"Simon?!" Jim asked, shock evident in his voice. He straightened up to see the captain -- letting go of Blair in the process. The anthropologist crashed to the floor. "Oh... geez, Blair, sorry. You okay?"
"Just dandy," Blair sighed, sitting up. He accepted Jim's help as he stood up. "Some Blessed Protector..."
"Don't make me remind you of all the other times I had to save your skinny ass," Jim pointed out.
Simon cleared his throat. "Gentlemen?"
"Oh, sorry." Blair grinned at Simon. "That really wasn't what it looked like."
"I certainly hope not," Simon muttered. He held a manila folder out to Jim. "Here, Jim -- I just need your signature on this." He handed Jim a pen second. "Then I can go home... and leave you two to whatever it was you were or were not doing."
Jim signed the report in the folder, and handed it back to Simon. "There you are, sir."
"Thanks." Casting another leery look at the pair, Simon nodded and left.
As the door shut behind him, Blair started to laugh again. "Score another one for the Ambiguously Gay Duo..."
"I didn't mind Josephs downstairs, but Simon?!" Jim lamented.
"That was a genuine accident!" Blair shrugged, sat down on the couch, and picked up the beer he'd abandoned before in favor of play. "Relax, man. Simon won't say anything. It's Rafe or Brown seeing something like that I'd worry about."
"Or Megan." Jim joined him on the couch. "Yeah, guess it could have been worse... why does everyone assume we play for the other team?"
"Because we're not exactly your typical pair," Blair responded. "It's not uncommon for two men to live together, but we're close... closer than a lot of guys, you know?"
"It doesn't help that you're so touchy-feely," Jim teased.
"Hey! I told you a million times -- touch is a Guide's best weapon." He grinned devilishly. "Guess I'll have to teach you a new lesson on that one..."
"Tickle me and you're dead, Sandburg."
Blair stuck out his tongue. "You're no fun anymore... Cupcake."
Jim rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Pumpkin."
"Why are most terms of endearment also food?"
"I don't know," Jim answered, shrugging. "Do a paper on it or something."
"Hey, Blair?"
Blair was nearly asleep that night when Jim's voice pulled him back to some semblance of awareness. "Yeah?" he muttered into his pillow, knowing the Sentinel's sensitive ears could pick it up. He guessed from the direction Jim's shout was coming from that Jim was standing at the top of the stairs.
"Cinnamon."
"Huh?" Blair couldn't figure out what Jim meant.
"That last candle. It was cinnamon."
For that, he wakes me up. "Damn you, Ellison."
"I love you too, Chief."
He's going to pay for this... once I'm coherent enough to formulate a plan... was Blair's last thought before he drifted to sleep.
That's all, Folks! :-)