rogue10@hotmail.com

Blair Hair

By Rogue
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"Uncle Blair?"

"Yeah, Kimberly?"

"Can I brush your hair?"

Blair Sandburg looked up from the notes he was taking for his next class from an anthropology text. He and Jim had been asked to baby-sit the Ellison children while Steven and his wife were out of town. The two children were old enough to be in a daycare center for most of the morning and two hours past noon, so that meant that Blair could look after them on his own in the afternoon after classes were over with for the day while Jim worked at the station. So the two men had agreed. Blair wasn't a stranger to taking care of children, so he was able to handle the two competently enough.

He had picked up Kimberly and Nathan at the daycare in Anna's minivan - she wouldn't be needing it since she had flown to California and it did have the children's car seats already in it - and driven them home. He had given Kimberly her afternoon snack of two gingersnap cookies and a plastic cup of apple juice while he had fed Nathan and then gently burped him, all the while listening as Kimberly enthusiastically chattered on about the busy day she had painting a picture and making a clay horse - although it looked like it decided to sleep on its head, which was okay, now that she'd thought about it - and playing Duck-Duck-Goose with the other kids her age. Blair smiled and praised her even as he wondered if this was how Jim felt with him sometimes, but let the thought go.

Now, with baby Nathan down for a nap and an hour and a half left to go before Jim got home from work - hopefully nothing new cropping up at the last minute - Kimberly had wandered away from her toys and was now asking him to let her brush his hair. Turning to face the munchkin that had perched beside him on the couch, he looked down into her wide, beguiling brown eyes. "You want to brush my *hair*?"

She nodded vigorously, a smile on her face. "Please? You have pretty hair. Lots of it. I want to brush it. Daddy lets me brush his!"

"Wouldn't you rather brush your Uncle Jim's hair?"

"He doesn't have enough to play with. You do."

That accurate statement delivered so perfunctorily made him smile. Kimberly was right; Jim's hair was receding and thinning, even if it did look soft as seal fur. "You really wanna do this, huh?"

She nodded again. "Please, Uncle Blair, please?"

The tiny thrill he always got whenever Kimberly called him "uncle" shot through him. He'd asked her why she called him "uncle" when he and Jim weren't related to each other. She had replied that Blair and her uncle were bestest friends, like brothers, so why shouldn't she call him "uncle" when it was clear her Uncle Jim didn't mind? That had touched him deeply and he'd hugged and thanked her. Glancing at her now, he grinned and said, "Sure, why not? I like having my hair brushed."

"Yaaay! I'll go get my brush bag!" she announced, and hopped off the couch and scampered towards the stairs that led up to her room.

Sighing, shaking his head with a grin, Blair turned back to his notes. *Brush my hair,* he thought with fond amusement. *I haven't had my hair brushed in a long time.*

Before he knew it, Kimberly was back at the couch, holding what looked to be a semi-big plastic pink purse. He glanced at it with some trepidation. "That's your brush bag?"

She nodded, grinning. "Has my brush, comb, mirror, and ponytail stuff!" she announced proudly.

"Cool. Where should I sit?" he asked.

"Oh, you can stay there. I'll sit up on the back of the couch."

Blair halted her as she started to clamber up, pulling her into a quick cuddle. "I have a better idea, munchkin. Why don't I sit on the floor and you sit on the cushions behind me? That way if you slip, you don't have as far to fall."

Kimberly rolled her eyes at this bout of adult protectiveness, but nodded agreeably, knowing better than to argue. At least her Uncle Blair was nice about it. Uncle Jim would've given her his best mean growly-bear look and snapped at her to sit on the cushions. Kimberly had long ago accepted the fact that when it came to looking out for his family, Uncle Jim did not take "no" for an answer.

Blair quickly slid down to the floor as Kimberly moved behind him, her tiny legs draping over his broad shoulders. "Sweetie?"

"Yeah, Uncle Blair?"

"Is it okay if I work on these class notes while you brush my hair? I've really, really gotta get this done, or I'm really in deep kim-shee."

"Kim-shee? What's that?" she giggled as she began pulling his long, curly hair back from his face.

"Bad stuff. I don't need this bad stuff and would like to avoid it. In order to do that, gotta get the class notes done. Okay?"

"Sure. I only need your hair, not your 'tention."

Sandburg blinked, then grinned. *Short, sweet, and to the point. She's an Ellison all right.*

A few moments later, Blair sighed luxuriously as he bent his head slightly. It had felt weird to feel two tiny little "paws" working through his hair, but now, Kimberly - who had her own curly hair - was working on combing out his hair with a pick comb. When that was done, she would use the hairbrush with the soft bristles designed for people with really curly hair. It was totally relaxing as minor tangles were carefully and gently worked out and the comb was scraped lightly through his hair from scalp to ends.

"Feel good, Uncle Blair?" Kimberly asked with a grin, hearing him sigh and feeling his shoulders relax.

"Uh-huh. You're very, very good at this, Kimberly," he said with a smile.

"Thanks. I get lots of practice on Daddy."

"Not your Mommy?"

"No; she's too busy doing grown-up things most of the time. Besides, she says she likes it bestest when Daddy plays with her hair."

Blair's grin turned a tad smug. He knew what that meant, but had no intention of explaining it to a four-year old. She'd find out soon enough anyway, but it wouldn't be from him.

Turning his attention firmly back to his notes, humming a little in approval as the comb was exchanged for a brush, he got lost in his work, never noticing as Kimberly went rooting through her bag for extra supplies.

Thirty minutes later, there came the jangle of keys in the lock and Blair was rousted from his thoughts by Kimberly scrambling down from the sofa and yelling excitedly, "Uncle Jim's home! Uncle Jim's home!" and running to the front door. Grinning, Sandburg set aside his notes and got to his feet to go get his friend a cold bottle of water from the fridge.

Jim Ellison laughed as he stepped through the front door of his brother's home and was met by a small, auburn-haired, wildly excited and excitable hyperactive motor mouth. *Almost normal for me,* he thought, amused. *Only the person is different.* With that, he scooped his four-year old niece up into his arms and gave her the "biggest squeezie hug" he could that was demanded from the little sprite.

"Hi, pumpkin! How's my favorite niece doing?" he asked as he quickly pecked her cheek.

Little arms wrapped firmly around her uncle's neck, Kimberly gave him a loud raspberry buss on his cheek in return and then pulled back, smiling hugely. "I'm fine, Uncle Jim! Guess what I did today?"

"What'd you do, Weasel? Go to New York and take over the World Trade Center?" Jim asked as he shut and re-locked the front door.

"Nope, even better! I built a clay horse in school and took a nap and played Duck-Duck-Goose and was the fastest duck in the *whole* *class* and then Uncle Blair picked me and Nathan up and he brought us home and fed us and then he let me brush his hair while he did his homework!"

Chuckling as the similarity between his niece and his partner became even further pronounced, he walked into the living room and plopped her on the couch before he started removing his jacket. He could see the pink bag sitting on the cushions and the detritus of Blair's notes littered everywhere. "Oh, he let you play with his hair, did he? Do a good job?"

"She sure did. I haven't felt that good in a long time," Blair's voice said from behind him.

Smirking, Jim turned with a wisecrack ready, only to freeze as he stared at the vision in front of him.

Blair, puzzled, tilted his head slightly as he looked up at his friend. He held out the water bottle he carried as he asked, "Jim? You okay, man?"

Stunned, Jim couldn't reply as a grin started forming. That grin spread and spread, until it had reached near-epic proportions, his light blue eyes dancing with contained hilarity.

"Uh, Jim? Come on, buddy, you're frightening your partner, here. Are you aware of the fact that you look like a crazed beaver?"

A snort and a choked-off giggle erupted briefly from Jim. He glanced down at his grinning niece, who was smiling innocently, pleased to see her Uncles interacting this way. "Kimberly, he doesn't know what you did, does he?"

The little girl shook her head, beginning to giggle.

Frowning, concerned, Blair looked back and forth between the two of them. "Guys? Okay, what's going on here? Kimberly, I thought you brushed my hair?"

"I did, Uncle Blair!" she giggled out.

"You ... ah ... should go take a look at your new hairstyle, Chief," Jim snickered, then scrunched his eyes closed and turned away, his shoulders and belly shaking as he struggled to contain his laughter.

Worried, he shot a glare at the detective and hurried off to look in the mirror that was in the hallway to help provide illumination. When he saw his reflection, his jaw dropped open and his eyes bugged out.

"Oh. My. *God*!" he yelled.

From the living room came a raucous howl of laughter followed by the sound of a large body falling to the ground. Accompanying the sounds were the high-pitched peals of laughter only a four-year old girl could generate.

Blair ignored them for the moment. He stared hard at his reflection. There, in the mirror, was the image of a man - himself - with his long curly hair clipped back in random clumps with ... with ... *pink* *barrettes*.

*Lots* of pink barrettes.

Lots of pink barrettes molded into shapes such as smiling daisies, rainbows, and unicorns.

And the way the hair was clumped in different spots, he had lots of mini-ponytails sprouting from his head in multi-directions. He looked like a mutant, hairy puffer fish with drooping curly spikes.

He stomped back to the living room. "Kimberly," he said to the laughing four-year old, ignoring the asphyxiating sentinel only a few feet away, "what on *Earth* possessed you to *do* this?!"

She snickered up at him. "You said I could play with your hair, Uncle Blair!"

"I said you could *brush* it, not *rearrange* it!"

"But it looks *good*!"

"If you're into living abstract sculptures, yes! Otherwise, it looks like a hair dresser on drugs went after me!"

Jim howled again and convulsed on the floor.

"It does *not*!" Kimberly said, laughing.

"Does *too*!" Blair returned, a grin starting.

"Not!"

"Too!"

"*Not*!"

"*Too*!" chorused both Jim and Blair, and the younger man turned to his partner at last, his own grin widening to the point that it threatened to split his face.

"Oh, like you're any great help!" he snapped, and then moved to straddle Jim with his legs, leaning over to begin finding ticklish spots on Jim's ribs.

"N ... no! No! S-Sandburg, s-so h-help me, if you t-tickle me...!" the detective gasped out between bouts of laughter.

"You'll what? Put barrettes in my hair? Been there, done that, man! Got the head shot to prove it!" Blair retorted, poking and tickling as the older man writhed on the floor.

"I'll m-make you w-wash my underwear f-for a m-month!" Jim declared, batting helplessly at his partner's swift and accurate fingers.

"Ewwwwww!!" both Blair and Kimberly chorused and the grad student backed away from the gasping man, moving to sit on the arm of the sofa.

The two of them waited for Jim to calm down. It took a while, but finally, Jim's giggles and gasps wound down and he groped for the bottle of water. Blair put it in his hand and Jim nodded gratefully before swigging it back and downing most of it in a few gulps. When Blair offered a hand up, Jim shook his head.

"No, thanks," he said with a grin, not looking at his friend. "I can't look at you right now, Sandburg, or I'll lose it again; and my stomach can't take another round this soon." He paused, listened, and added, "Besides, Nathan's awake and wants attention."

"You go take care of him, big guy. I'll take dinner out of the fridge after Mistress Hair Monster here takes the barrettes out," Sandburg said with a jerk of his thumb at Kimberly, who simply giggled and rolled over on the couch cushions.

"Wait ... wait. Before she does ... I wanna get a couple of pictures of this. This ... really needs to go into our photo album, Chief," Jim said, the smile on his face somewhat amused, mostly soft.

Blair nodded. "How you gonna do that if you can't look at me without cracking up?"

"I'm a trained detective and ex-Ranger, Sandburg; if I can't control myself for even a few minutes in a torturous situation, then I need to find another job, quick. I can hold it for as long as it takes to get a couple of shots."

Blair laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Big tough man. Alright, get the camera; me and Kimberly, here, will be waiting."

Jim hurried into the den to get Steven's camera out of the desk, checked to make sure it had film, then scooted upstairs and picked baby Nathan up. "Hi, sweetheart," he crooned softly, smiling at his nephew, who stopped crying and snuffled slightly as the strong, tender arms cradled him. "Come with Uncle Jim, baby, and we'll get you taken care of. That's right; that's right. Oh, yes, you're such a good baby, aren't you? Come on, honey, let's go down and get evidence of Uncle Blair and the Hair Attack. You'll love it when you're old enough to understand it."

Grinning, he grabbed up Nathan's carrier and took everything downstairs. He set the tiny baby couch on the table and gently eased his nephew into it, gave one quick kiss to the downy head, then moved away as he turned the camera on and removed the lens cap. "You guys ready?" he called out.

"Ready! We're sitting on the back of the couch, man," Blair called back, sitting almost-sideways with one leg pulled up so Kimberly could sit on it, his arms wrapped around her carefully.

Taking a deep breath, Jim slowly raised his eyes. He managed to keep himself from falling into hysterics again, but he couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face. Quickly, he raised the camera. "Okay, smile! One ... two ... three!"

"*Cheese*!" the two on the couch called out and quickly, Jim snapped three pictures. One for Kimberly, one for him and his partner, and the other ... for the bullpen.

Immediately, he lowered the camera and re-capped it after turning it off. "Okay," he laughed. "That's got it. I'll put this away, Blair, while you take care of changing Nathan?"

"Sure, man. Kimberly, go help your Uncle Jim, okay, babe?" Sandburg said as he gently set her down on the floor. "You can take the barrettes out after I'm done with your brother."

Nodding, she scampered off to join the tall detective as Blair moved towards the now mildly-cranky infant.

Looking down at his niece as they entered the den, Jim grinned and said, "Nice job with the hair, Kimberly. I needed that laugh."

She giggled. "I'm glad Uncle Blair wasn't mad! He didn't know what I was doing."

"Nah; your Uncle Blair is a really good sport. He was really surprised, but he wasn't mad."

"Yeah. He liked having his hair brushed, too. His shoulders and neck went all melty and he stopped writing so fast. He hummed, too."

"Really? That means he was very, very happy with the hair brushing. Good job, sweetie!" Jim said as he replaced the camera with a note on Steven's desk explaining what they had done. He was pleased that his niece had gotten Blair to relax.

*If that's all it takes,* he thought to himself, *I'll have to remember that the next time I want him to calm down and take it easy. Brushing Blair's hair; who knew it would be that simple?*

With that, he shooed his niece out the door and they went to join Blair and Nathan in the kitchen. Steven would be getting home soon; Jim and Blair would spend one more night at the Ellison house and then head back to the loft tomorrow.

For now, though, they relaxed as one big happy family.


THE END