So, my friend prompted me to tie together Blair and Spencer some way, and this was a way I came up with. Just a short, funny little drabble folks, that's all.
It had been a long, hellish three days at work, and Blair was ready to drag himself to his bed and sleep for the next week. He shuffled up the stairs behind Jim, who was looking even more tired than him. It made sense. While Blair had been able to escape to the university for a couple hours for class, Jim had been stuck at the station. For three days straight most of Major Crimes—hell, most of the PD—had been trying to catch the serial arsonist that was trying to burn families alive. Ten homes total had burned, with, thank God, only three deaths. They'd gotten lucky, they knew. The families had been lucky. The idiot arsonist hadn't truly known what he was doing. When they captured him, he confessed to it all, saying clearly how he wanted these families to burn for having everything he didn't. But most of the families had gotten out when their smoke detectors woke them from sleep.
Still, ten families would be having to rebuild now. Repair their lives. It was enough to make Blair feel sick. No matter how long he studied people or worked on cases like this with Jim, well, he would just never understand, not deep down inside understand, what on earth could possess someone to be so damn cruel.
Hell, it was just too much to think on right now. His brain couldn't handle it. All it could handle was that they were halfway up the stairs to home and that meant he was almost to his bed. Anything else wasn't important.
Or so he thought. When Jim suddenly stopped in front of him, causing Blair to run right into his back, Blair couldn't help but grumble at him. "Man, Jim, warn a guy next time." He mumbled tiredly. "C'mon, I'm tired."
Jim stayed still for a second longer before reaching back and, oh shit, pulling out his gun. He checked the safety and then held it in front of him. "Stay behind me, Sandburg. There's someone in the loft."
"Shit." They just couldn't catch a damn break, could they? Blair bowed his head and briefly let his forehead rest against Jim's back. "Is it Naomi?" Wouldn't be the first time she just dropped by.
The stairwell was quiet as Jim stayed still. His body tensed a little and Blair knew he'd be extending his senses, filtering out what wasn't important and searching for what he needed. A second later, the tension faded. When Jim spoke his voice was a little distant, like he was still filtering what he'd found. "It's not her up there. But, she's definitely been here. No more than an hour ago, I'd guess. But whoever's in there, I think…I think they're asleep."
"Asleep?" Talk about strange. Why on earth would someone who wasn't Naomi be sleeping in the loft? Could Naomi have brought someone over and then left them there? No, there was no way she'd do that. Would she? Of course she would. His mother, the queen of good intentions. Blair sighed and gave Jim's back a nudge. "Well, let's go find out. If she left someone there, Jim, man, I am so sorry. I don't think she would, but if she did, well, I'm sure she'd have a good reason. Though if she brought someone, I don't know why she wouldn't just stick around…"
They made their way cautiously to the loft door. Jim kept his gun out as he unlocked the door. With Blair behind him, he moved silently inside, following whatever trail was evident to him. Whatever it was, it led him straight to Blair's room. At a better time, Blair would've admired the stealth with which Jim moved. At some other time. Not now. Now, he carefully shut the door and then looked around. The first thing he found was a piece of paper lying right on the table. One look, one quick read, and Blair's brain actually managed to kick back on. He quickly hissed out "Jim!"
His friend stopped right outside his door, one hand on the knob, and his gaze was sharp even in the low light from the single lamp that was on. Blair just held the note up for Jim to see. "Blair, I was so hoping to catch you, but I saw you had other plans, so I didn't stick around. I came to visit and found Spencer half asleep in the hall, waiting for you to get home. I didn't think you'd want him just sleeping in the hallways—that's not safe! And I couldn't let him lie out there, no matter what. So I let him in and told him to lie on the couch. I'm sorry to miss you. I'll stop by after I get back from my retreat. You take care, sweetie! – Naomi."
The note was enough to have Jim relaxing his vigilant pose. But because Blair knew his friend and he knew Jim wouldn't relax until it was confirmed, he hurried over to join Jim at the door. Then he quietly opened it and peeked inside. What he saw had him smiling. Spencer was lying fully clothed on the futon, looking for all the world as if he'd simply fallen there face first and hadn't bothered moving. One leg dangled partially off the edge with the shoe actually half off. Blair shook his head at the sight and chuckled a little. "Yeah, that's Spencer." He looked over at Jim and smiled again. "Sorry about her kind of dumping him in here. According to Naomi, he's technically like my cousin or something, though she's kind of vague on it. But he's been like a best friend/little brother since I was around ten." Pausing, he tried to gauge Jim's mood, not quite awake enough to read the expression on his face. Jim didn't seem tense about this. Though, Blair totally would've understood. "You, ah, you want me to wake him up, get him on out to a hotel?" He offered.
To his surprise, Jim shook his head and put his gun away. "Nah, Sandburg. He looks as dead as we are." He looked back at the bedroom and then at Blair. "Go on, go crash. I'll lock up. We'll figure things out in the morning."
"Hey, thanks, man. I'll totally take you up on that. Sweet dreams, big guy."
Blair slipped into his room and carefully shut the door behind him. Now that his bed was right in front of him, his exhaustion was striking again, making his movements slow and lethargic. He managed to at least drop his bag and shed his outer clothes until he was left in boxers and a t-shirt. Then he reached out and tugged, getting both Spencer's shoes off and dropping them on the floor. That was as best as he could manage for his friend. He didn't hesitate anymore and just climbed right into bed. There was just enough room, once he shoved Spencer's leg up on the bed, for him to fit in the space between Spencer and the outside edge. He settled right down into it and then grabbed the blankets, tugging them up over both of them. Yawning, he shut the lamp off.
There was a soft rustle of movement and a low, questioning murmur sounded from somewhere by the pillows that sounded vaguely like "B'air?" or at least a close facsimile thereof. Blair reached out in the dark and tried to reassure Spencer with a pat. He wasn't quite sure if he actually hit Spencer or just a lumpy part of the blanket. "Go t' sleep, Penny." He cut off to yawn again. Then he burrowed down in the blankets, murmuring "S'kay, jus' go t' sleep…"