rogue10@hotmail.com

Blair's Birthday Present

by Rogue
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"Happy Birthday, Chief."

Smiling, Blair sighed and stretched as he shambled out of his room, his nerves tingling not only with the energy of waking up, but from the excitement of it being his birthday and knowing that his partner cared enough to do something about it.

Jim chuckled. "C'mon, finish waking up, Darwin. You still have to get your birthday present."

"Only one? And I have to wake up for it? You're a slave driver, man," Blair shot back with a grin, opening his sleepy blue eyes and looking up into the warm, affectionate, teasing blues of the man standing next to him at the kitchen counter, pouring coffee for him.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Greedy bastard."

The younger man never so much as blinked. "Bet your ass I am, man."

Ellison laughed. "No, thanks, Chief; I'm fond of this ass."

"Conceited ass, too."

"With good reason. Now, stop being so snarky 'cause you're so jealous of me, go sit down, have some coffee, and then you can have your present."

"*Jealous*? Like, *so* not, man!"

"Yeah, yeah. Deny it all you want, Junior, but I'm the sentinel here, remember? I can read you like nobody else."

Blair grumbled for a moment, pretending to be angry, but then he made the mistake of looking up into his friend's eyes. They stared at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing.

Long moments later, they snickered slightly as they calmed down, then Blair sat down at the kitchen table opposite his friend, wrapping his hands around the warm coffee mug. "Jim, man, c'mon. What's my present?"

"So greedy," the sentinel murmured, his voice full of the brotherly affection he felt for his guide.

"Yeah? Get to the bad part," Blair teased. "C'mon, Jim! My curiosity is *up*, man!"

"At least it goes with your hair, Shaggy-do," Jim chuckled, one hand gesturing at the wildly tangled locks sprouting from Blair's head.

"Ha, ha," Sandburg grumbled, then blew a raspberry at the older man.

"Ewwwww. You're wiping down the table after breakfast, Chief."

"Hmph. Anal-retentive marshmallow, that's what you are. What would you do without me, anyway?"

"Maintain my sanity, perhaps?"

"And be totally bored out of what's left of your mind, dude. I'm having a bagel; what do you want?" Blair offered as he got up and headed towards the breadbox. They didn't have time to go out for breakfast, so his birthday meal would be dinner later that evening.

As he watched the younger man set about preparing breakfast for them, Jim thought to himself, *Boredom would have been the least of my problems, Chief. I know that without you I'd be dead or locked up somewhere. You'll never know how grateful I am that you're in my life. You'll never know how much you mean to me. I have a specific reason for celebrating your birth, Chief. I hope someday you realize that.*

When Blair turned to look at him, Jim grinned at the younger man, who grinned back in response, the two of them in synch as they usually were.


****


Later after they'd finished eating breakfast, Jim handed two envelopes to his partner and said, "Happy Birthday, Chief."

Blair's eyebrows climbed up and he took the envelopes. "Thanks, big guy," he said with a grin. He opened the first one and whooped happily in delight. Inside was one of those gift cards that a person can tuck money or checks into, and found a check from Jim to Blair for two-hundred dollars worth of books and an inscription that read: "To my favorite bookworm; Happy Birthday. Love, Jim".

Blair smiled a sweet, melting smile at his sentinel. "Aw, Jim, you're too much, you know? Thanks. I love this."

Jim flashed one of the wide, unrestrained grins that not a great many people got to see too often. "Glad you like it, Sandburg, but you're not done yet. Open the other one."

Curious, Blair did and found inside a voucher and an ID pass to the local health club. Blair Sandburg was the recipient of one week of personal training starting next week. He looked up with a smart-ass grin. "Jim? Tryin' to tell me my butt's too fat, man?"

"No way, Tundra. Your butt's fine. Half the women in Cascade should know as frequently as they inspect it, remember?" Jim shot back, leering.

Sandburg laughed. "Right, right. Anyway, what's this for?"

"Well, you were complaining that your jeans were getting too tight and that you wanted to start getting into a gym so you could work out. So, since you seem reluctant to go with me and let me work with you, I got you this."

Blair was silent and, as he so often did, he used his talent for speed reading between the lines and said, "Jim, man, it's not you. You know that, right? It's ... well, it's me, kind of. A pride thing, I guess."

Semi-wounded feelings mollified for a moment, Ellison's curiosity was piqued. "What way, Chief?"

"Well..." Blair squirmed, "it's just ... look at you! You're this big, tall, muscular guy; the epitome of an ideal male body by society's standards. And the gym you go to, there are more men built like you. Then there's me. I'm short and, while I'm not out of shape or overweight - yet - I'm nowhere near the league you, and guys like you, are in. I don't want to go in there, huffing and puffing and turning beet red at only a few reps of some exercise that you could crunch through without even breaking a sweat. I don't wanna look ... deficient."

Jim shook his head. "Blair, I don't know what to say. You're *not* deficient. Not to me. And anyone who takes time to work at getting themselves into better shape and is making a serious attempt at it, no one's gonna look down on you for that. And nobody goes into serious workouts like a pro immediately upon starting out. Everyone has to build up to it. I had to when I started and I learned that the hard way. Thought that because I was in relatively good shape before, I could just go on in and bench press a couple hundred pounds and then squat a few more and walk off fine and dandy. Didn't work that way. I staggered out the door and then staggered back in to call my Dad to come get me because I could barely walk."

"I understand that, Jim. I hear what you're saying. But think about it; the gym you go to is the PD gym. A lot of other cops in there. And, let's face it, not all of 'em are my biggest fans."

"And if any of 'em start harassing you, I'll-"

Blair shook his head. "That'll just make me even more wimpy in their eyes, having my big bad cop friend standing up to them and fighting back for me. Nah. Easier all around to avoid it and go elsewhere."

Pointing at the pass to the health club, Jim nodded. "Problem solved then, Chief. Use in good health."

"You bet!" Sandburg replied with a wired grin.


****


Monday morning during Rainier's spring break, two days after his birthday, Blair rolled out of bed with a muffled groan. Normally, during spring break, he'd be taking advantage of the extra time to sleep in but today was the start of his week with the personal trainer, a guy by the name of Bruce.

They had gone to the health club yesterday to meet with the man who would be Blair's personal trainer. A man who was only a few years younger than himself, Bruce was about Jim's height, but with more muscle and a full head of hair. He was an aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear, which Blair could certainly understand.

Jim had taken one look at the other man's musculature and had, at one point, pulled Bruce aside to speak to him about being careful of his smaller partner.

Blair had rolled his eyes, called Jim a mildly filthy name without an iota of rancor, and had given his attention back to Bruce.

Now, he found himself heading into the bathroom at an ungodly hour of the morning. He headed straight to the shower and climbed in after turning on the water. Ten seconds later, he woke up enough to peel off his sopping wet T-shirt and shorts and fling them over the closed shower door. Two minutes later, he was awake enough to enjoy the hot water and actually begin reaching for the soap, when he heard the bathroom door open. A moment later, Jim's colorful fuzzy shape could be seen through the blurry glass and then the shower door opened a crack and Jim pushed a cup of coffee into his hand. Turning, Blair kept water from getting into the mug as he sipped the fragrant, potent brew. After a few more sips, he perked up a bit more and grinned. Leaning out a bit, he handed it back with a smile as he said, "Thanks, man."

Jim chuckled, unaware of how amusing he looked to Blair with his sleep-rumpled hair sticking out in all directions. "No problem, Chief. Hurry up, huh? You gotta be there in half an hour."

Nodding, Blair gestured dismissively and the shower door closed again, leaving him in a cocoon of steamy humidity. Reaching for the washcloth and soap, he lathered up and began bathing.

Ten minutes later, washed, rinsed, combed out, and shaved, Blair emerged from the bathroom wrapped up in the robe that had been on the hook on the bathroom door. That it was Jim's didn't matter at all to the younger man.

"Don't trip," Jim admonished from his seat at the kitchen table, watching the hem of the robe swirl around Blair's ankles. He had showered the evening before so there would be plenty of hot water for Blair in the morning, and was already dressed and ready for work.

Waving acknowledgement, Blair carefully walked into his room, vigorously toweling his hair as he did so.

Another ten minutes later, he came back out, dressed in sweatpants and sweatshirt and his Nikes, his hair combed out and partially dry already, carrying a duffel bag with a change of clothing in it. He grinned as he sat down at the table with his partner where a small, but full mug of warm coffee waited. Knowing that Jim had poured it earlier so that it would have time to cool off, Blair picked it up and chugged it back in a few gulps, then set the mug down with a sigh of delight.

"Glad you liked it," Jim said with a snicker as he stood and carried his breakfast dishes to the sink. "Hop along, Chief; we gotta get going."

"Sure. What are you doing today? Will you need me with you after my workout?"

"Nah, nothing big. Finishing up a few files and signing off on some reports. If I get sent out somewhere and need you, I'll call, but for now, why not goof off? You'll have to get back to working two jobs soon enough, kid."

"Three," Blair corrected with a grin as he placed his own mug in the sink, then moved to collect his wallet, keys, and health club pass. "Rainier, the PD, and Guide to the Sentinel of the Great City."

"Ah, yes. Three it is," Ellison agreed.

"I could still come in and do some of the paperwork for you; get it cleared up and out of your way-" the younger man began.

Reaching out, Jim caught his partner by the shoulders and pulled him in close for a quick, affectionate hug. Stepping back, he grinned warmly at his guide. "I know you would, Chief. I know you could. But I'll be fine. I really, really want you to goof off today. Go buy those books after your workout. You can show me what you got when I get home."

"Hmph. I'm starting to sound like a housewife," Blair grumbled, but Jim knew it wasn't a serious grumble.

"Well, now that you think about it, I have entertained thoughts of you wearing my apron and actually doing some cleaning around here..."

"Don't hold your breath, man."

"Don't I *know* it, Sandburg."


****


Bouncing into the inner sanctum of the health club, Blair smiled widely when he saw Bruce waiting for him. *Man. Now that's the ideal vision of a Greek God. Tall, muscular, blonde hair and dancing green eyes, with a dazzling white smile. Jeez! If I didn't know for a fact that some women prefer a body type like mine, I'd be feeling some serious male envy!*

"Hi, Blair. Glad to see you made it on time. You ready to get pumped?" Bruce asked, flashing his Hollywood smile.

"Sure. What do I have to do?" Blair replied, his own smile brightening.

"Well, have you got your personal stuff stashed in your locker?"

"Some of it; the rest, I'm kind of attached to," Sandburg leered, gesturing vaguely southward.

Bruce laughed. "Got it. So, how about a tour?"

"Sure thing, man."

The blonde god took the teaching fellow/consultant/guide on a tour of the machines, explaining the functions of each one, and then put Blair on the treadmill at a high speed after Blair demonstrated his normal walking speed. Five minutes later, Bruce took the younger man's pulse, ignoring the gasps and heaving chest. The instructor was slightly alarmed by the fast pulse, but Blair waved it away, personally believing that it was less the fast pace of the machine and more the sight of the glorious Amazons in skintight Lycra outfits walking past and smiling at him.

Later, Blair showered and dressed and then headed out for the bank to cash his check and then to head out to his favorite bookstores. He made several purchases, delighted to no end, then stopped by Wonderburger, feeling magnanimous. He picked up Jim's favorite and stopped into the PD, but Jim was away from his desk at the moment. Glancing around, Blair spied Joel nearby. "Hey, Joel!"

"Blair! Hey, man, how's it going? And what's that? I thought you detested that stuff," Joel said, walking up to greet the younger man.

Blair laughed. "Oh, I do. This is to thank Jim for the great birthday presents he gave me; he's such a great guy. I can't stick around, though; could you watch this and make sure none of these raccoons try to steal any of it?"

Protests were raised from H, Rafe, and a couple of other grinning detectives, which Blair and Joel ignored, although they grinned, too.

"Sure, Blair. After all, messing with Jim's Wonderburger is like trying to snatch a grizzly's dinner away from it!"

"Worse, though. Anyway, gotta get going." Bending down, Blair jotted a quick note, then straightened and slapped hands with Joel. "Later, guys!"

Farewells were called out and Joel settled down to guard duty, trading jokes good-naturedly with the other detectives.

Jim came in a few moments later and headed straight for his desk like a heat-seeking missile, the feral light in his eyes warning Joel he'd best get out of the way and fast.

The bag and the note were snatched up and Jim sailed on out of the bullpen, heading for the break room. Once safely ensconced, he settled into a chair and laid out the feast of burger, fries, chocolate shake, and apple pie in an orderly manner. He sniffed deeply, inhaling the heady aroma with a joyful tingle. He picked up the note that had been with the bag and read: "Thanks for the books, big guy. See you tonight. B. :-)"

Jim smiled and neatly tucked the note into an inner jacket pocket.

Then he fell on his meal like a starving jaguar and decimated it within seconds.


****


"So, have a good workout today?" Jim asked as he dug his hands into Blair's shoulders.

Sandburg, who was lying face down on his bed and wearing his boxers while a fully clothed Jim stood over him, moaned in contentment. "Yup. I got on the treadmill for five minutes. He thought my pulse was too fast, but I was having some decidedly naughty thoughts."

"Oh?" A humorous note crept into Jim's tone.

"Uh-huh. See, there were these *women* there, Jim. Really, really pretty women; well-built, modern day Amazons, and they walked past me and smiled. At *me*! It was all I could do to keep everything unexcited, if you know what I mean."

Jim laughed. "I know what you mean."

Blair grinned and hummed as Jim's hands drifted to his tailbone and worked out the knot there. "Bruce was really encouraging, though, while I did my sit-ups. Gotta admit, my belly was already aching from holding it in near constantly."

"Now, why were you doing that? You don't have enough belly to hold in!"

"Are you kidding me? Man, I have love-handles!"

"Uh-huh. So? I have it on good authority from most of the women you date that they *love* to *handle* them. You should be grateful, not self-conscious!" Jim teased as he swept his hands up and down his friend's sides ticklishly.

As Blair thrashed and twitched, laughing hard, he sputtered, "Oh, man! This is gonna be a *fantastic* week!"


****


Tuesday morning dawned bright and early. Blair got up and showered and got ready to go again, although Jim had already left. Had to be at the PD for an early, early meeting with Simon, so Blair was on his own this morning. Finally, after drinking an entire pot of coffee, Sandburg made it out the door and down to the health club.

An hour later, he found himself wondering why in hell he was lying on his back and pushing a heavy bar into the air when he could be pushing his luck as usual, but he swept that thought aside. Especially when Bruce then added *weights* to the bar. Later, his legs felt wobbly when he got on the treadmill, but he made it the full two miles that Bruce insisted he could handle easily. Not wanting to appear a weenie, Blair pushed himself hard and finished the workout. Bruce's rewarding smile made him feel much, much better; like it had all been worthwhile.

As he showered off in the locker room, he grinned as he stretched, working out the kinks in his arms. *Man, I feel GREAT! I hope I get used to this soon. Jim'll appreciate having a partner who can keep up with him in more ways than one.*


****

Wednesday morning, Blair had to be hauled out of bed and into the bathroom with Jim's help. The only way he could brush his teeth was by having Jim crank his jaw open and do it for him because he could barely lift his arms.

"I think I have a hernia in both pectorals, man," Blair whined piteously, his tangled hair straggling down over his bleary eyes.

Holding a cup to his guide's mouth, Jim helped the younger man rinse and then leaned him over so he could spit. "I'm going to have another talk with Bruce; he should know better than to push you this hard so quickly."

"No! No, man, don't. It's kind of a compliment, I guess. Starting me off that quickly, he assumes I'm in good enough shape to handle it."

"Well, you're going to have to. I have to be at the PD all day today. I have enough time to help you bathe and get you dressed; after that, you're on your own. And just remember, Chief, that 'assume' makes an ass out of 'u' and 'me'."

"You're such a wit," Blair growled. "Half of one, anyway."

"Still want my help, Sandburg? Fine. Shut up and let's get you hosed off."

*Yeah, go ahead, crack jokes at my expense. You're not the one in pain here because you're working with substandard equipment!* Blair snarled mentally, thinking of how woefully inadequate his muscles appeared to be.

However, later, he managed to drive himself down to the health club. He dreaded the moments during the trip when he would have to turn the wheel or apply pressure to the brake, as it brought forth new stabs of pain. Finally, he arrived, nearly parking atop a GEO in the club parking lot. He dragged himself inside, only to find Bruce waiting impatiently for him. And almost ten minutes later, Blair felt like crying when Bruce *really* got impatient and insisted that his screams were bothering the other club members.

Climbing down off the treadmill shakily, Blair glared peevishly at the back of Bruce's head as he followed the man over to some other torture device from hell. *Yeah, right. You know, Brucey-baby, your voice is just a little too perky for this early in the morning. And when you scold, you get this VERY annoying nasally whine thing going. Muy unattractive, amigo. Oh, my God, what is THAT??*

Blair found out. Because he'd complained of his chest hurting on the treadmill, Bruce had led him over to a machine called 'The Stair Master', which Sandburg renamed 'The Stair Monster' within the first thirty seconds of using it.

*Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?!* he wailed silently. *I know he told me this would help me get in shape and enjoy life, but he said a lot of other shit, too. He probably sells swampland in Florida during his off hours.*

Eventually, the workout was over and Blair got home and fell asleep on the sofa, never waking up once for the rest of the day until Jim got home and woke him up in a state of near-panic at the amount of time it had taken to wake him up. Ellison then helped Blair bathe, fed him some vegetable and beef stew, then cleaned his face and picked the quickly unconscious again man up and put him to bed. Leaving Blair's bedroom, Jim shook his head as he ate his own dinner and wondered if, perhaps, he shouldn't check Bruce's background for any possible criminal activity.


****


*There he is; waiting for me with those vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips pull back in a full snarl. Don't you threaten me, buster! I can't help being a half-hour late! It took me that long just to tie my shoes!* Blair thought viciously as he staggered into the workout area on Thursday morning.

With a barely concealed concerned glance - as well as a somewhat disappointed and slightly disdainful one - Bruce led the smaller man over to the dumbbells. His back was turned and so Blair seized the opportunity and made a break for it.

Ten minutes later, a huge bruiser of a guy named Lars followed him into the men's bathroom - where he'd gone to hide - on Bruce's orders and hauled him out, proudly bringing him back to Bruce like a hunting dog carrying the trophy duck home. As punishment (to Blair's current frame of mind), Bruce put the hapless teaching fellow on the rowing machine - which he promptly sank.

***

That evening, Blair slept downstairs as usual, except for having accepted Tylenol PM capsules for once, so he could be drugged to sleep and not stay up all night, whimpering in pain. Jim slept upstairs as usual except with the white noise generator switched on so he wouldn't have to listen to Blair's continual moans and whimpers in case the Tylenol didn't work.

And it irked Jim that Bruce apparently had no felonious background whatsoever. After all, what the man was doing to his partner certainly *seemed* criminal.


****


Friday evening, the last of the workouts Blair was ever going to attend over with regardless of having two more to go through, and Jim was wrapping heated moist towels around most of his guide's body as Blair ranted and raved with a tired, yet vicious voice.

"I hate that bastard Bruce more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world!" Sandburg spat. He moaned softly when a moist, hot towel was wrapped completely around his left foot and swaddled him up to mid-shin. A moment later, he continued his diatribe as Jim continued to work.

"Stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleader wanna-be jerk! If there were a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it. Bruce wanted me to work on my triceps today. Can you believe it? My triceps! I don't *have* any triceps! And if you don't want dents in your cherished hardwood floors, don't hand me anything that weighs more than a damned sandwich, okay? Bruce learned that the hard way today, when he handed me a fricking barbell - something I'm almost convinced he already learned in the sadist school he attended and graduated magna cum laude from, that contemptible idiot! Ooh, yeah, another towel, there..."

"Any better yet, Chief?" Jim asked quietly as he draped another hot towel over Blair's midsection, which was patterned with a motley of colorful bruises from his overworked abdominal muscles.

"Getting there, but not nearly enough," Blair sighed. Then his eyes slitted open and pinned the older man with a deadly look.

Jim said nothing, well aware that while Blair hadn't yet mentioned it, he was blaming his sentinel for his current predicament. The only way Jim was going to save his ass was if he simply let Blair get the rant out of his system.

"The treadmill is possessed, you know. It *knew* what I was thinking; specifically, I was thinking a block or two of C-4 planted right under it. Then I would've had Bruce get on it and when he flipped the switch ... blammo! But, no, the damned thing's possessed. It flung me off! The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why, oh, *why* couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?"

"I dunno, Chief. Just lie there and let the heat seep in. Need anything else?" Jim asked as he straightened up from his task of layering the hot towels on his partner.

"Yeah. A contract put out on my ol' pal Bruce."

"Right. Besides that?"

"Hot chocolate loaded with marshmallows, in my *big* mug."

"Spoon fed?"

"What else?"


****


Blair sent the Glare of Death towards the answering machine as the poor innocent piece of technology dutifully related Bruce's query as to why Blair had not shown up at the health club that morning. Just hearing the instructor's grating, shrill voice made the usually calm, pacifist anthropologist long to smash the machine with one of his heavier tomes. However, he lacked even the strength to use the TV remote. He'd ended up watching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel, which Jim had graciously turned on for him before he'd escaped for the day, citing a heavy caseload at the PD. Ellison had offered to turn to the Discovery Channel, but Blair had vetoed that by stating it would have driven him insane to not be able to take notes, and so Weather Channel it was.

When Jim walked in the door at near midnight and found himself nailed by a pair of lethal blue eyes that glared at him silently, he simply pressed the erase button on the answering machine and moved to attend to his laid up partner.

Wrestling, as he had for most of the day, against his conscious as to whether or not he shouldn't do something very bad to Bruce and then hide his body where it would never be found.

*I have no one to blame for this but myself, really,* he thought as he lifted Blair in his arms, cringing at the stifled moan of pain. *I got him the damned "gift". I could've spent the money on other things, but no-o-o-o-o...*


****


Sunday morning rolled around and surprisingly, there was activity going on in the loft.

Both Blair and Jim were up and dressed. Specifically, they were dressed in their nice suits and Jim was currently combing back his friend's hair so it could be tied into a neat ponytail, since Blair couldn't do it himself at the moment.

"Tell me again why we're going to *Church*?" Jim asked, incredulous.

"We're going so that I may go and thank *God* that this week is finally over and *you* are going so you can receive penance for getting the dumb-assed idea of giving me this 'present' in the first place when you knew better. I will also pray that next year, you will choose a gift for me that is fun - like a root canal or exploratory rectal surgery!" Blair snapped.

"Blair, you're Jewish," Ellison said inanely by way of reply.

"So?"

"This is a Catholic Church we're going to."

"Jim, I have the power to make the rest of your life miserable. If you think you have no need of asking for divine intervention on your behalf, think again. Now shut up and get us there before we reach the Age of Reason."

Jim sighed as he acknowledged this very sad truth, and helped his injured and querulous partner out of the apartment and into the - for once - working elevator.

And reminded himself to be out of the country when Blair's birthday rolled around next year. Someplace nice and safe.

*Hah! I've got a feeling that even if I caught the next space shuttle to Mars, it still wouldn't be safe enough,* Jim thought sarcastically.

"Jim?" Blair said as he climbed slowly into the truck.

"Yeah, Chief?" the older man said with stoic patience.

Sandburg lifted big blue eyes that were sheened with moisture. "Thank you for putting up with me this week. I know you meant well. I do appreciate the thought."

Jim instantly melted and leaned in to press a light kiss to his guide's temple in a gesture of affection. "I know, Blair. Don't worry about it. Now, let's go to Mass and sing our praises that Hell Week is over, okay?"

Blair smiled. "You got it, big guy."

As he rounded the truck to get to the driver's side, Jim had one final thought.

*Like I could ever leave my heart and soul behind, anyway. You're stuck with him for life and beyond, Ellison, so stick that in your hat and wear it well. And thank God while you're at it, you big idiot. Friendships like this one don't happen frequently. You're more blessed than you probably have any right to be.*

With that, he settled himself behind the wheel and they took off down the road, heading towards the church in the distance that was ringing with the peals of its bells calling the faithful - and injured - to prayer.


THE END