Blair Sandburg Hates Valentine's Day
Written for Margaret's challenge on the 60 second fanfic list.
Blair Sandburg hated Valentine's Day. The knowledge of that would have made his roommate, Jim Ellison, snort with laughter. Blair Sandburg, table leg, hates Valentine's Day yeah, right.
It was true though at least it had been ever since Blair had woken up one morning a year or so ago with the completely out of the blue revelation that he was head over heels in love with Jim Ellison, Mr. Sex-on-legs himself, the object of Blair's erections.
Blair sighed louder than he'd meant to and glanced furtively across the desk to see if Jim had noticed. Well, d'oh, of course he had. He was a Sentinel after all. In fact, Blair was a little surprised that Jim hadn't yet picked up on his obvious state of arousal whenever the Sentinel got inside his Guide's personal space or touched him, whether with a manly slap on the back for a job well-done or with one of those oddly tender touches that Jim
occasionally bestowed when Blair was feeling tired or down or sick. Blair kept his eyes focused on the paperwork in front of him as he pondered that conundrum. Jim always seemed to know when he was coming down with some bug, usually before Blair knew himself so how come he'd never picked up on the pheromones that Blair assumed were probably emanating from his very turned-on body whenever Jim put that gentle hand on Blair's forehead or shoulder.
"You okay, Chief?"
Blair jumped as Jim spoke and looked up guiltily. "Sure. Fine. Just thinking."
"Don't strain yourself, Einstein," Jim said with that wicked grin that melted Blair's heart every time it was turned in his direction. "Trying to work out where to take the lucky lady of the moment for Valentine's?" he asked.
Blair shook his head. "Nah. I'm not seeing anyone at the moment," he said, picking up his pen again and making a pretence of editing the document in front of him. "You?"
"Nah," Jim replied easily. "Thought I'd just have a quiet night at home."
"Oh, great. Me too." Blair couldn't help the little trip his heart made at Jim's words. At least they'd be spending Valentine's together, even if not 'together'.
"You ready to get out of here? I've got to stop at the market on the way home," Jim said, standing and pulling his and Blair's jackets from the coat rack behind him.
"Sure, " Blair said, taking his from Jim's outstretched hand. "Let's go home, partner."
Blair watched as Jim pottered around the kitchen making his famous Ellison spaghetti. "Need any help," he asked.
"Yeah, you can make a salad," Jim replied as he pulled down the herb rack and began pulling out jars at random and contemplating the contents.
Blair wandered over to the fridge and opened it. "Um, Jim, there's no salad greens in here, man. Did you pick some up at the market?"
"Dammit, I forgot. I thought there were still some left from the other night."
Blair closed the fridge. "I thought there were too. Hey, Tommy's is still open. He has good fresh produce unless you'd rather just give salad a miss. I don't mind either way."
Jim walked over and took his wallet from his coat pocket. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to Blair. "Get whatever you think we need, Chief. I really feel like having salad tonight. You sure you don't mind?"
"No, it's fine, man. I'll be back in twenty minutes tops," Blair said, pulling his jacket down off the hook again and putting it back on.
"Take your time, Sandburg. I'll wait for you," Jim replied, his attention already firmly back on the sauce bubbling away on the stove.
True to his word, Blair was back at the loft within twenty minutes, the bag containing the salad vegetables held in one hand as he opened the door with the other.
He stepped inside and stopped, his mouth dropping open in stunned surprise, the bag falling from nerveless fingers to the floor.
The dining table was covered with a cream silk tablecloth, silver candelabra alight with candles, its centerpiece. There were places set but instead of the usual dishes and cutlery, Blair recognized Jim's mother's best dinner service and flatware. There was a red rose lying across the plate in his usual place.
A gentle finger lifted his jaw and closed his mouth and Blair blinked in confusion as Jim suddenly appeared in front of him, dressed in a dark blue silk shirt, open at the neck far enough to give a tantalizing glimpse of that incredible chest. Linen pants hugged his muscular thighs and Blair momentarily wondered if he should call for a drool bucket before he dribbled all over Jim's pristine floor.
"Wha-" Blair swallowed and tried again. "What's going on?" he whispered, wondering how his mouth could feel so dry when he was salivating so much at the vision in front of him.
"Well," Jim drawled, stepping ever closer. "I said I wasn't seeing anyone but there's someone I'd like to be seeing."
"Who?" Blair coughed as his voice came out several octaves higher than it's usual tenor in response to Jim's forefinger tracing its way over his lower lip.
Jim leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on his mouth. "You," he whispered as his hand wandered down to ghost over Blair's suddenly hard and aching cock. "Want to be my Valentine, Blair?"
Blair grabbed Jim's hand and lifted it to his chest, pressing it over his heart. "You've known how I felt all along," he said.
Jim shrugged. "I'm a Sentinel and I have a very good Guide who taught me how to identify signs like that." He gave a disarming grin and pulled Blair into a hug. "I was waiting to be sure it wasn't a passing infatuation. It's not for me." He pushed Blair back and kissed him deeply and passionately. "I love you, Blair," he said as he pulled back.
Blair pulled him slowly back down into another kiss. "I love Valentine's Day," he said just before their lips met.
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