New
Arrivals
Author-Allison
Titles
Housewarming
by Allison
Summary: Just my little explanation for how 'one week' turned into several years! Set after The Debt. Originally posted on SentinelAngst.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be; no money, just fun!
Blair stared morosely at the want ads spread in front of him. He was quite familiar with the old saying about how fish and visitors both start to smell after three days, so Blair figured that by now, he was well past the stinking stage.
He'd been living in Jim's small guestroom for almost ten days now, and he knew his time was up. Jim had been great to take him in after the fire and explosion that had destroyed his warehouse apartment, and he hadn't insisted Blair leave as soon as the week he'd promised him was up, but Blair could tell it was time to find somewhere else to hang his backpack.
He was surprised at how sad that thought made him. He should be used to moving on by now. Packing at a moment's notice had been a way of life when he'd been a kid. Naomi's never-ending wanderlust meant that they often camped with one relative or friend after another, taking off just before they wore out their welcome so they'd be invited back. Of course, everyone enjoyed Naomi's visits. She could fill a room with warmth and laughter, and even the most reluctant hosts quickly warmed to her effervescence. But people had warmed up much more slowly to her bookish, nerdy, inquisitive son, so he'd learned quickly to be as inconspicuous and unobtrusive as possible.
He sighed heavily. Unobtrusive was hardly how he'd characterize his stay with Jim. From the very beginning, it seemed as if the fates were conspiring to make sure he was the worst houseguest on the planet. First of course, was the damage Larry had done-both times. Jim had been remarkably patient, but for a man with an almost anal need for neatness and control, the chaos must have been hard to take.
There were a few other minor incidents, too. Like the fact that Blair had gotten lost coming home from the university and had had to call Jim for directions to the loft late one of the first nights he had been staying there. He knew the general area, but since Jim usually drove, he just hadn't paid much attention to the signs, and all those streets looked the same in the dark. The older man had had a good chuckle over that one.
Then, he'd managed to lock himself out of the loft; not once, not twice, but three times. He just couldn't get used to the fact that the thumb lock on the door engaged by itself if it swung shut accidentally. The first two times, he had sheepishly called Jim, enduring the older man's aggravated mutterings and grudging rescue. When he realized he'd done it the third time, he knew he couldn't call. Jim was on a stakeout, and there was no way he could bring himself to disturb him again. Instead, he'd waited in the small restaurant up the street, buying two cups of coffee with the change he'd found in his pocket. He had stretched them out as long as he possibly could, but finally he could no longer ignore the pointed looks from the waitress. He had left the warmth of the restaurant, intending to walk around the block a few times until Jim might be home. Of course, he'd gotten to the point farthest from the loft when the skies opened up and drenched him in a cold rain. By the time he'd made it back to the lobby of the loft, Jim was home, but Blair resembled (and probably smelled like) a drowned sheepdog.
To his credit, Jim had managed to say very little. When Blair had finally appeared, wet and bedraggled, Jim had just shaken his head in exasperation and made Blair wait in the hall while he had fetched towels and a bath mat for the younger man to stand on while he dried himself off. He hadn't even teased Blair much, which Blair had actually taken as a bad sign. Blair figured that by this point, Ellison had resigned himself to the fact that his new shadow was a moron, and was just counting the days until he could be rid of his live-in observer. Not that Ellison ever came out and said that-in fact, he'd been really nice about the whole thing, making sure that Blair got into a hot shower, and even fixing him a cup of tea while he changed.
Of course, that had been before Blair had woken the poor man out of a sound sleep by crashing into the small stack of crates he was using as a night stand in the wee hours of the morning. Blair hadn't meant to do it-in fact, he'd been trying to be considerate of the Sentinel's senses by keeping it dark, but his good intentions had been pretty much erased by the resulting crash of books and sharp howl of pain he couldn't hold back when his baby toe had found the sharp corner of the crates. He'd flipped on the light to check the damage just as Jim had come running in, wild-eyed, gun drawn, ready to defend the loft against all enemies. It had taken several moments of chaos before the light-blinded Sentinel had realized that there was no immediate threat, and that a crazed intruder was not attacking his guide.
Again, the older man had surprised him by taking the whole thing quite a bit better than Blair had any right to expect. Once Jim had re-secured his firearm, he had seated Blair on the bed and gently manipulated his foot, checking for swelling and fractures. Only after he was convinced that the injury was minor did he take any notice of Blair's profuse apologies. Brushing them away and shaking his head in what seemed to Blair to be a newly developed habit of his, Jim had retrieved a bag of frozen veggies from the freezer, elevated Blair's foot on a pillow and dropped the makeshift cold pak on it. He then had wearily admonished Blair to get some sleep and trudged back up the stairs, leaving Blair feeling chilly, damp, and more determined than ever to not cause Jim any more trouble during his remaining stay at the loft.
Blair had tried to make it up to Jim the next day by buying groceries, including another bag of peas to replace the soggy, melted mass he'd had in his bed when he'd awoken, but even that didn't go as planned. He was cautious in his choices, determined to select things safe for Sentinel senses, but in spite of all his careful observations, he'd managed to buy the wrong kind of breakfast cereal (who would have figured the big guy liked Fruit Loops?), de-caf coffee (which, judging from Jim's expression, was a BIG no-no), and the one kind of bagel Jim was allergic to.
Again, Jim had been patient with the mistakes, and seemed to genuinely appreciate the gesture, but Blair was beginning to think the slightly bemused expression that now seemed to be permanently etched on Jim's face resembled that of a prisoner who knows his sentence is nearing its end.
Which was why Blair was now studying the paper with all the intensity of a high school senior taking the SAT's. He wanted to have a good lead on at least a few places before Jim returned from work so he'd have time to clean up the newspaper spread out all over the couch. Blair's propensity for comfort while he worked had caused another minor disaster just the day before-he'd left a red marking pen uncapped when he'd finished grading his last batch of exams, and unfortunately, Jim had found it-when he noticed an odd feeling of something seeping into his new khakis.
Once more, he'd given Blair the sigh and head shake combo as he'd climbed the stairs to his bedroom to change, and Blair had resignedly added a new pair of slacks to his list of things he owed Jim for.
Blair had just finished circling a few dim prospects when he heard Jim's key in the door. At least he had remembered to lock it when he came home. Jim was a stickler about keeping the door locked for safety even when he was at home. He gathered the papers quickly and set them on the table just as Jim entered, carrying a large, gift-wrapped box.
"Hey, Jim. What's that? It's not your birthday, is it?" Blair asked worriedly. That would top off a great week-not even knowing or acknowledging his host's birthday.
"Nah, Chief, this is actually for you. A little housewarming present. I saw you checking out the want ads earlier, so I wanted to give you this."
Blair gulped and his heart plunged. "Uh, Jim," he said, gesturing weakly at the crumpled papers, "I promise I'll be out of here soon, but I haven't found a spot just yet. But hey, I can go to a hotel until I find an apartment," he added hurriedly. "The gift was really a nice idea, man. I'll just save it for a few days and open it in my new place."
Jim shook his head. "Go ahead and open it now, Chief."
Blair managed a weak smile. The gift was a nice gesture, but it made it painfully clear to Blair how much the older man had been anticipating his leaving. He took the box, surprised at its weight. "Thanks, Jim," he said softly as he sat to open it.
Tearing through the bright paper, he lifted the lid. Inside, there were several tissue wrapped packages. Grabbing the first one he came to, he pulled off the wrapping and stared at the object in his hands-a Mickey Mouse nightlight.
"Uh, thanks Jim," he grinned, more than a little puzzled.
"For your late night sojourns, so you don't end up in any more fights with furniture," Jim explained patiently.
Blair nodded and set the light aside with a smile. The next tissue wrapped item was a chemical cold pack. Again, Blair looked to Jim for an explanation.
"Just in case the night light doesn't help. I'm sure you figured out that frozen peas are not the best substitute," Jim answered matter-of-factly.
The next item was the largest in the box. Blair was amazed to see it was a lift-top portable lap desk, complete with a storage area for his marking pens and pencils.
"This is great, Jim! Now I'll never lose a pen again!"
"Let's hope not, Chief," Jim replied dryly, and Blair winced, remembering the fiasco with Jim's pants.
Blair was surprised to see another package in the box. Jim had been way too generous, especially after all the trouble he'd caused! He set the lap desk aside and then tackled the latest gift. He grinned when the torn paper revealed a pocket street map guide for Cascade. His poor navigational skills had been a joke since his late night phone call.
"Wow, I'll keep this right in the glove box. I'll never get lost again-at least in Cascade," he amended quickly at Jim's snort. Blair stared at his gifts, dismayed to feel tears prickling. He didn't want to cause Jim to regret his generosity by becoming weepy and maudlin, but it had been a long time since he'd had a friend take so much care in choosing a gift for him. "These are great, Jim. I know I'll use all of them in my new place," he said sincerely.
"There's one more in there, Chief," Jim said quietly, sensing Blair's emotions.
The last package jingled as Blair lifted it. Inside, Blair was shocked to find three keys; one attached to a lanyard. He recognized them as being keys to the loft, and he stared up at Jim, truly confused now.
"I figured if you had more than one, maybe you'd never get locked out again," Jim explained softly. "If you'd like to stay, that is."
Blair didn't know what to say. For the first time in his life, he'd been left absolutely speechless. "Stay? Does this mean it's okay if I take a little while longer to find a new place?" he asked tentatively when he had recovered his voice.
"Yeah, buddy, that's what it means. And if it's longer than 'a little while', that's okay, too."
Blair fingered the keys, noticing that the one attached to the lanyard had something hanging with it-a small metal tag. He turned it over to examine the writing engraved there. "If found, please return to Cascade PD, " he read aloud. "Is that for me or the key, Jim?" he teased, his voice unsteady.
"Whatever it takes to get you home, Sandburg," Jim said with a shrug. "I thought we'd leave one of the keys with Mrs. Toumis downstairs. She's usually home, and I know she'd be happy to help. The other one can go somewhere on your car-we can get one of those magnetic key safes for it."
Blair shook his head in amazement. "But what about all my screw-ups this week?" he persisted, aware that this was probably not the most opportune moment to mention them, but unable to stop himself.
Jim grinned and indicated the package and its contents strewn on the couch. "We all make mistakes, Chief. Carolyn can tell you I'm not the easiest person to live with, either. And besides, that's what these are for. I figure with them, and maybe a few house rules, we should be okay."
"House rules?" Blair asked with a dubious scowl.
"Just a few things to ensure domestic tranquillity, Chief. Now grab your coat-and your keys-and we'll go have some dinner and go over them."
Blair grinned and popped the lanyard over his head, tucking the key and tag underneath his shirt. Then he quickly gathered all the torn paper and put it in the now-empty box. Wouldn't want his new roommate to think he was a slob! He followed Jim out of the loft; still unable to believe how the evening was turning out. He paused while Jim pulled the door shut and prepared to engage the dead bolt.
"Hey, Jim? Let me get it, okay?" he said softly, pulling the key out from under his shirt. He turned the lock and couldn't believe the satisfaction that one small action produced.
Jim smiled at his expression. "Welcome home, Chief."
The End