Ficlet for patchworkdragon

[turps]

patchworkdragon asked for Blair/Chris and the more I thought about it the more it worked. But then again you all know I'm insane ;)

This isn't what I was going to write, but it's what came out.



It’s the part of the day that Jim loves the most. Work is over, dinner eaten and he’s comfortable on his couch while the game plays on the TV. He feels content and languid debating whether to just give in and nap or read the newspaper that lies by his side.

And then Jim hears it. Thumps from Blair’s room, drawers being rummaged through, closet doors opening and closing, the typical sounds of Sandburg in full panic mode. Suppressing a sigh, Jim forgets about his nap, knowing hurricane Sandburg is about to gather force.

“Hey, Jim, have you seen my blue shirt?” Blair shouts from his room, and Jim pushes back the curtain and looks in.

“Have you checked the laundry that I left on the desk?”

It seems Blair hasn’t because he stops looking under his futon and starts pulling papers from his desk, piling them on the floor.

“You did my laundry? That’s great Jim, thanks.” Blair stops his frantic search for a moment, beaming at Jim before carefully pulling his shirt from the stack Jim had left the day before. “I’m running so late today. You wouldn’t believe what that idiot Myers did, and who had to deal with the fall out? Me that’s who. You’d think they’d hire competent staff at least once.” Blair talks as he gathers an outfit, black jeans, boots, a leather hair tie and a necklace are all gathered in his arms and he bumps Jim with his hip as he leaves his room. “I’m going to grab a quick shower, if Chris comes tell him I’ll be five minutes.”

Blair smiles once more before disappearing to the bathroom and Jim stands for a moment, knowing his relaxed evening is a non-starter. Then carefully arranges the curtain so he can’t see the chaos that’s Blair’s room.

The screams are unexpected, shrill in the evening air and Jim almost pulls the curtain down as he runs to the patio, leaning over the railings to see the street below. A group of girls are standing on the sidewalk, screeching as they clutch at one another for support and Jim runs back into the loft. “Sandburg, it looks like there’s an attempted abduction going down, call it in.” Jim shouts as he picks up his gun making for the door.

“Wait! Jim, hold up, wait!” Blair’s shouting as Jim charges out of the loft. “Jim stop, that’ll be Chris.”

Blair sounds convinced so Jim turns, seeing Blair standing in the corridor, one of Jim’s best white towels wrapped round his waist. Jim pushes away the urge to zero in on the matted black hair on Blair’s chest and the way droplets of water glisten on his skin. Blair is off limits he knows that. “That wasn’t a man screaming chief, unless he sounds like a teenage girl.”

“You’re not far wrong.” Blair laughs and pulls the towel tighter. “Seriously, they’ll be screaming at Chris. I told you he was coming.”

“At him?” Jim’s suspicious and starts to listen for any noise from street-level, quickly hearing the sound of many voices. did you see, , he’s my favourite, he’s so dreamy, , he hugged me, I’m never washing this arm combined with the whirr of the elevator heading to their floor. “Who is he, some kind of movie star?”

“Close, he’s a singer. Hell, Jim what am I standing talking to you for? I have to get ready. Just talk to him for a bit okay?” Blair heads back into the loft and Jim stands watching the elevator, shoving his gun in his pants at the last second.

When Jim sees Blair’s singer his first thoughts are uncharitable. ‘They’re screaming for him’. Chris is Blair sized, dark and intense as he stares at Jim obviously gauging his intensions. His hair is spiked and Jim can’t help looking at it, the shades of purple and red mixed in with dark brown and black and he’s dressed in clothes Jim wouldn’t dress a dog in. In all a perfect match for Blair. “You must be Chris. Blair’ll be a few minutes yet. I’m Jim Ellison, his room-mate.”

Chris just looks for a moment and for the first time Jim imagines he knows what being under a Sentinel’s examination must be like, then he smiles, wide and relieved and moves toward the loft. “Hey, Jim. Great to meet you at last, B’s always talking about you. I take it he’s in the shower still; he never changes, late for everything.”

“That’s Blair, alright.” Jim shakes his head as they walk into the loft. Chris’ voice is high and pure and Jim finds he can’t help listening to the individual perfect notes as Chris talks, and he talks a lot. About how he met Blair on a psyche course when Blair was on an exchange from Rainier, how they’ve kept in contact ever since. Jim hears the words, just doesn’t take them in, letting the tone wash over his senses like cool water.

“CK!” Blair’s shout crashes through Jim’s mind and he jumps a little then straightens each page of the newspaper until its perfect when Blair great Chris, noisily and passionately. Jim doesn’t look at them but can see them reflected in the TV, two short dark men, kissing dirty and hot and Jim shudders as the scent of arousal fills the loft.

Blair finally pulls back and Jim looks up accepting Blair’s soft ‘sorry, I got carried away’ with a shrug.

“We’ll have to go, B. Sound-check’s soon. See ya, Jim.”

Jim nods, reeling from the assault of Chris’ voice and pheromones and shivers when Blair comes close and whispers, “You think he sounds good now, you should listen to him sing. Look in my bottom drawer, there’s some nsync cds there, listen to them. Then when we get back we can see how the different vocal ranges affect you. I wonder if you’ll like Lance too?” The last is said as Chris playfully tugs Blair out of the room, and Jim sits, almost overwhelmed. He listens as Blair and Chris take the stairs and when he hears Blair ask if he can get tickets for the show he smiles, a small concert listening to Chris sing, he can handle that.