New
Arrivals
Author-Allison
Titles
Color My World
by Allison
Summary: Just a little back to school fluff!. Originally posted on SentinelAngst.
Disclaimer: Aren't mine, never will be; but at least I appreciate them, unlike TPTB!
"C'mon, Sandburg, let's get out of here. We've gotten everything on our list, and about a few thousand things that weren't. Let's leave some stuff for the other shoppers, OK?"
"Hey, man, you're the one who decided we needed to stop in the sporting goods department," came Blair's retort, accompanied by a huge sneeze. "'Scuse me," he murmured snuffily.
Jim frowned. "Sounds like you might be coming down with something, Chief. That's the third time you've sneezed in ten minutes."
Blair couldn't contain a slight eye roll. Leave it to his Blessed Protector to be keeping count. "Nah, must just be dusty in here. I'm fine."
Now it was Jim's turn to roll his baby blues. No matter what type of malady the younger man might be suffering from, from a head cold to a gunshot wound, his standard answer was always 'I'm fine'.
"Well, just the same, it wouldn't hurt to pick up some tissues and cold stuff. They're always good to have on hand."
"No way! I'd rather stop and get stuff at the health store. Besides, if we head down to the health and beauty aisles, we'll never get out of here! Haven't you ever been to Wal-mart on a Saturday before? Every pre-teen girl within a 20 mile radius comes to check out the new lines of make-up, especially the week before school starts!"
Jim quirked an eyebrow at him. "And you know this how, Chief?" he asked with a grin.
Blair gave him an unrepentant shrug. "Hey, I'll have you know that I found more dates here than anywhere else when I was a kid. I mean, where are you supposed to meet girls when you're twelve? You can't go to bars, and I was always at lot younger than most of the kids in my grade, so school was out. This was perfect! I'd just wander by, pretending to be looking for something nice and non-threatening, like dental floss or something, and pretty soon I'd be talking to all kinds of girls."
"God, Chief, do you mean to tell me you were a Casanova before you could even drive?" Jim shook his head in fond exasperation. "Chatting up girls when you were twelve. Why am I not surprised?"
"Jealous, big guy?" Blair asked innocently.
Jim didn't even dignify that with a response. "Let's go, Sandburg," he said, steering his young partner toward the check out lines crowded with back to school shoppers. In never failed; as soon as they decided to check out, so did every one else in the store. Jim made a low growling noise that warned Blair that his senses were overloading from the noise and assorted smells of the crowd. Blair quickly handed him an issue of Sports Illustrated from the rack, urging him to focus on that and dial his hearing down.
Once his sentinel was settled, Blair looked around at the people stranded in the long lines with them. One in particular caught his eye. A little dark-haired girl, staring at the large assortment of back to school supplies displayed along the aisle, her eyes wide and wistful. Her mother looked harried and exhausted as she balanced a baby on her hip and struggled with another child in the kiddy seat of the cart.
Blair watched as the young girl tugged at her mother's sweatshirt. "Momma, can I get the big box of crayons?" she asked quietly, without a trace of the whiny tone that seemed so common in children her age.
Her mother managed a weak smile. "We already got you crayons for school, honey. And you have crayons at home. We've spent too much on other things to buy something we don't really need."
The little girl nodded without complaint, as though she'd been expecting the answer. "OK, momma," she sighed, but her eyes never left the enticing array.
Blair couldn't help but smile at her. He knelt down to look with her. "Lots of neat stuff, huh?" he said; trying to engage her in conversation.
She smiled shyly back, but said nothing.
"Do you like to color?" Blair tried again, shooting her mom a friendly look. The mother returned the smile warily, apparently deciding that Blair posed no threat. She gave her daughter a nudge.
"You can answer him, baby. I'm right here."
Satisfied that she wouldn't be breaking her mother's 'no talking to strangers' rule, the little girl nodded enthusiastically. "It's my favorite thing to do," she answered softly.
"I like it, too." Blair replied, chuckling at the skeptical look she gave him. "Really! Grown-ups can color, too!"
Her grin got wider, and Blair heard a soft snort behind him, indicating that his partner wasn't entirely wrapped up in the sports scores and was monitoring him as usual. Apparently, Jim was expressing his opinion of the 'grown -up' remark. Blair ignored him, continuing his conversation with his new friend. "What do you like to draw?"
By now completely enraptured by her new-found confidant, she began to prattle on about all her favorite things, barely pausing for breath. "I like to draw kitties and ballerinas and flowers and rainbows."
"Those are some of my favorite things, too!" Blair replied when she paused for a moment. "And what's your favorite color?"
The little girl's smile widened. "I love pink!"
"That's a pretty color for a pretty girl," Blair said, and she giggled with pleasure. Then she frowned.
"My pink crayon is all broken," she whispered softly. "That's why I want to get some new ones, but momma says we have to make do with what we have. I could only get the box with eight colors in it for school this year, and that one doesn't have pink," she explained gravely.
Blair nodded wisely. "That's right, it doesn't. Well, maybe you could color with red and white together and make pink," he suggested.
The little girl shook her head, giving him a vaguely disapproving frown. "No, crayons don't mix too well. Besides, the small box doesn't have white in it either," she explained patiently, as though he really should have known better. "But momma says my pictures are beautiful anyway!" she finished, her smile returning.
"I'm sure they are," Blair agreed. They chatted for a few more minutes while the line crept along, exchanging names and other bits of trivia. Blair learned that she had an older brother along with the other two siblings he could see, and that her father never came to visit them any more. She said it softly, shooting a sad glance at her mother.
"Momma cries a lot now," she said quietly, while her mother was busy trying to quiet the baby. "She always worries about money, too. That's why I'm gonna be a famous artist when I grow up and have lots of money. Then she won't worry any more."
"That sounds like a terrific plan," Blair assured her, amazed at the little girl's maturity. He glanced into the girl's mother's shopping cart and noticed that all the items were generic brands or of poorer quality. It brought back memories of his own childhood, and it made him wish there were some way he could offer to buy the little girl the deluxe set of crayons. He didn't see how he could offer without causing offense, however, so he kept silent. They chatted for a few more minutes, both happy to have found a new friend.
Finally, it was their turn to check out. Blair waved goodbye to the little girl and her mother as they left and then helped Jim with the bags. He sneezed again just as they were loading the stuff into the back of the truck, and once again, Jim scowled.
"That's it, Chief, we're stopping by Nature's Bounty or whatever that place you like is, so you can pick up whatever remedies you need. You're definitely coming down with something."
Blair didn't bother to deny it. He really did feel a little off, and the encounter with the little girl had left him vaguely depressed. Jim noticed his brooding on the way to the health store.
"Want to tell me what's on your mind, Chief?" he finally asked, un-used to a silent Blair.
Blair sighed. "Nothing major, Jim. I just can't help thinking about that little girl, Amanda. Seeing her there with her mom just reminded me of growing up with Naomi, I guess. I mean, don't get me wrong, we were never homeless or anything, but money was always tight."
Jim nodded sympathetically. He knew his young friend had been rich in love as a child, but not necessarily in material possessions. Probably the reason he traveled so lightly as an adult. "They seemed to be getting by all right, Blair," he said carefully, not wanting to dismiss the younger man's concerns, but hoping he could reassure him a bit.
Blair flashed him a wan smile. "I'm sure they had all the essentials, but you know, sometimes it's the little extras that make all the difference. Like cool tennis shoes, or the latest yo-yo. Or the big box of crayons," he said wistfully. Naomi had always stressed the importance of non-material things, but as a kid, he remembered wanting what the other kids had, and always being told, 'not this time, sweetie'.
"Crayons, Chief? I thought you were just making conversation with her."
"Heck, no, Jim. Crayons are the second greatest thing you can give kids next to books. The really big boxes even come with their own sharpeners! You could color everything under the sun with them." His eyes shone for a moment and then clouded slightly. "But just like Amanda, I was always stuck with the same eight colors. I remember this one kid, Jerry Morganti-man, he got a new box of crayons every week it seemed. And markers and colored pencils. And all he ever did with them was shoot them at people. What a waste!" Blair muttered with a disgusted shake of his curly head.
Jim listened intently, as he always did when Blair talked about his past, intrigued to know more about the man he considered his best friend. Blair usually made his nomadic existence with Naomi seem like one big circus trip. This was the first time Jim had heard Blair sound even a tiny bit wistful about the way he grew up.
"The little girl and her family seemed to be doing fine, Chief," Jim said, feeling helpless that he couldn't offer more reassurance.
"Yeah, I suppose so," Blair replied noncommittally. He leaned back against the headrest and then let loose with an enormous sneeze, his largest yet. He peered at his Sentinel through watery eyes. "Don't suppose you'd believe I suddenly developed allergies, huh?"
"Nice try, Sandburg, but we're going to stop at the health food store and then I'm taking you home to bed."
"Gee, Jim, I didn't think I was your type," Blair muttered, not bothering to argue.
In spite of large doses of both natural cold remedies and Sentinel mother-henning, by Monday, Blair was running a temperature and wheezing every time he breathed. Though he steadfastly maintained that he was well on the way to recovery, an enforced trip to Jim's doctor negated that notion. After a quick exam, he was sent home with a diagnosis of a sinus infection and a prescription for both antibiotics and bed rest.
"Oh man, this sucks, this totally sucks!! It's less than a week until the new semester starts, and I've got a ton of stuff to do!" Blair practically wailed, huffing into the passenger seat of the truck.
"Sorry, Darwin, but you heard the doc-two days off your feet 'til those meds have a chance to kick in. Now buckle up and we'll head home."
"Can't we just stop by my office so I can pick up some stuff? I've got to finish the final draft of my syllabus, and check with the bookstore to make sure both my texts came in and then..."
Jim cut off the litany with a decisive shake of his head. "Nope, those things will have to wait. You can use your laptop, and make a couple of calls if you need to, but like it or not, you're loft-bound 'til Thursday, and I expect you to spend most of that time resting."
Blair glared at Jim, totally annoyed that the older man seemed immune to his poison thoughts. When he received no reaction, he sat back, grumbling to himself about over-protective and bossy Sentinels. Jim ignored him, though Blair knew he could hear him with little effort.
Jim pulled up in front of the loft a few minutes later, but didn't park. He turned to eye his still-sulking guide.
"Can I trust you to go upstairs and take it easy for the rest of the morning, or do I have to come up with you and hide your keys?" he asked with mock severity.
Blair frowned at him, ready to launch into another argument, but gave up at the look on Jim's face.
"I'll stick around here," he sighed.
Jim patted him on the leg. "Good! I'm going to pick up your prescription and some stuff for lunch. I'll stop back by on my way to the station and drop everything off. Try and get some rest, okay? I won't be long."
Blair climbed out, still looking unhappy. "What am I supposed to do all day without most of my books and stuff?" he asked grumpily.
"Sandburg, you have a college education. I'm sure you can come up with something. Sleep. Read. Take a bubble bath. Write to your mother. I don't care, do whatever you want, as long as you can do it in the loft and it doesn't require a lot of energy."
"Gee, Jim, that eliminates most of the fun things," Blair replied with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.
Jim just shook his head. "Get your mind out of the gutter and get upstairs, funny man. I'll bring your prescriptions and lunch back with me shortly."
He watched Blair head into the lobby and then listened to his guide mutter to himself in his usual debate about using the stairs versus the elevator. Apparently, weariness from his illness overrode any residual fear of elevators, because Jim heard the doors slid open a moment later and Blair enter. Satisfied that he was safely headed for the loft, Jim drove on to the pharmacy. Once there, he handed the prescription from the doctor to the young woman behind the counter and then went next door to the deli to pick up some lunch while she filled it.
When he returned a few minutes later, the pharmacist told him it would take just a bit longer. He wandered the aisles while he waited, picking up odds and ends that they needed. Within a few minutes his arms were full and he was having trouble balancing everything without spilling the bag from the deli. He returned to the front of the store and grabbed an empty shopping cart. As he gratefully dumped his loot into it, a flyer caught his eye. Studying it for a moment, he got an idea. Remembering that Blair had told him once (displaying again what seemed to Jim his never-ending knowledge of bits of trivia) that crayons were one of the ten most identifiable smells for most people, he unerringly headed for the area of the store with all the school supplies.
Once he found the correct aisle, he walked down it, amazed at the huge array of items arranged there. When he was a kid, school supplies meant a new black and white composition book and a pack of orange #2 pencils. Judging from this display, no self-respecting kid these days would ever be caught with anything so boring and mundane, if they could even find them in the midst of all the more colorful choices.
He spent the next few minutes choosing carefully, filling the small cart until he heard the pharmacy department's page telling him the prescriptions were ready. He checked out quickly, anxious to return to his ailing partner.
Once back at the loft, he hefted his bulging bags, carefully placing the one from the deli on top. Like Blair, he chose the elevator, whistling cheerfully as it climbed. Once he reached the third floor, he extended his hearing down the hall to their apartment, grinning as he picked up Blair's snuffy running monologue.
<<Oh, man, nothing on TV but soaps....all my good books are at the office...now where's my pen...damn, that notebook is back at the office too...wonder if maybe Jim would let me run out later?...nah, not a chance, if I even ask about it, he'll take my keys for sure...>>
Jim had reached the door by now, but his hands were so full, he merely kicked at the bottom, knowing Blair was nearby. The younger man quickly opened it, earning himself a frown from his Blessed Protector for not asking who it was first.
Blair read the expression clearly. "C'mon, man, I might not be a Sentinel, but anyone could have heard you whistling. I knew it was you!" he exclaimed, quickly taking a bag from his overloaded partner. He shook his head in amazement. "Jim, what did you get? I thought you were just going to pick up my medicine and lunch."
"Well, I got a few other things. Now go sit down while I show you."
Once Blair was seated, Jim placed the deli bag to one side and dumped the other large bags from the drug store onto the table. Out spilled at least a dozen jumbo packages of crayons, large sets of colored pencils and pens in every design.
"What'd you do, rob an office supply store?" Blair asked, puzzled, his eyes lighting up at the colorful array.
Jim looked a little sheepish. "While I was waiting for your prescription to be ready, I saw a flyer announcing a collection drive for school supplies for needy kids in the area. I remembered what you said about never having the cool stuff when you were a kid, so I kinda..."
"Bought the store out?" Blair finished for him, grinning.
"Well, yeah," Jim admitted.
"Oh, man, this is great! I never realized they had a program like that. What a cool idea!" Blair exclaimed pawing through the items. "Wish they had a something like that when I was a kid."
<<So do I, Chief>> Jim thought to himself, remembering the wistful look on his friend's face when he talked about not having what the other kids did.
"Look, I want to go halves with you on this stuff, okay? No, never mind, I'll go out and get more stuff tomorrow. Where's the drop-off site?" Blair was quivering with excitement looking at all the items. "Maybe Amanda will be able to get some of this stuff!"
"The flyer said you could take it to any volunteer fire station in Cascade. And if you really want to get some more, I'll pick some up tomorrow -you're still recovering, remember?"
Blair waved his hand impatiently, not bothered by such trivial matters. "Whatever, man. Hey, maybe the rest of the guys will want to pick up some stuff too!"
"I'll mention it when I get into work this afternoon. Now let's eat, I'm starved."
They pushed the items back in the bag so they could eat the lunch Jim had brought. As Blair slowly ate his soup, his eyes kept straying to the bulging bags, smiling every time he did. Once they were finished, Jim gathered the trash, shooing Blair back to the couch. After the kitchen was straightened to his satisfaction, he brought Blair his medicine and a water bottle.
"All right, Chief, medicine and then nap time."
Blair glared at him, but dutifully swallowed the pill. "You know, maybe later, I could run to my office to pick up a few things..." he began tentatively.
"Thought you were afraid talk like that would make me hide your keys, Chief."
Blair looked puzzled for a minute and then scowled when he realized that the Sentinel's hearing had picked up his idle musings. "That's like so not fair, man. What am I supposed to do all afternoon? After my nap, of course," he added hastily.
Jim smiled and walked over to the bags left piled on a chair. He sifted through their contents and pulled two items out. A jumbo pack of crayons-with sharpener!-and a Loony Tunes coloring book.
"Picked these up just for you when I got the rest of the stuff. Now, if you take a nice rest, you can color for the rest of the afternoon," he teased.
Blair's eyes were sparkling once again. He carefully opened the box, breathing deeply of the 'new crayon' smell. "Hey, Jim, did I ever tell you..."
"Yup, Darwin, crayons are one of the most recognized scents," Jim finished for him with a trace of smugness.
Blair grinned at him. "Gee, sometimes you actually do hear me when I tell you something!"
"Now if you'd only return the favor," Jim returned dryly.
Blair ignored him and pulled a crayon almost reverently out of its spot in the box. "Oh, man, look at these colors! This gives me some great ideas for tests for you. You know, we've never really done much testing on your color range. We could pick up a bunch of those paint samples next time we go to the hardware store; you know, the ones that change only a tiny bit from space to space? I mean how is anybody who isn't a sentinel supposed to tell the difference between them? Whoever knew there could be so many shades of white, right? And think of what a help that could be on a case..."
Jim held up his hand to stop the flow of words. "Enough, Chief! It might help you to remember what my dad always told me-never make a friend regret doing you a favor," he said firmly. "Now, like I said, the crayons are for after your nap, so just put them back until later, okay?"
"Spoil sport!" Blair groused, but he put the crayon carefully back in its spot. He looked up at the older man, suddenly serious. "Thanks, man, you know-for all of this. It means a lot to me," he said quietly.
"No problem, Chief. Now why don't you get some rest and I'll show my face down at the station so Simon remembers why I pick up a paycheck every two weeks."
Blair stood and headed reluctantly for his room while Jim walked to the door. "See you later, Jim. And thanks for lunch, too."
"Get some sleep, buddy. And hey, if you save me a page with the Taz on it, I might even try out those new crayons myself!"
The End