Disclaimer: I do not own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).
Note: This story was originally written around 2010, so technology is not at a 2017 level.
Feline Persuasion
By EvergreenDreamweaver
"This has been the longest, most boring, unproductive day!" Detective Blair Sandburg muttered as he stacked file folders neatly, dropped pens and pencils into their appropriate receptacle, and reached for the wireless mouse to shut down his computer. Somewhere along the line he'd learned to tidy his desk before leaving work, proof that miracles do happen.
"Shhh. Don't let Simon hear that; he'll find some work for you to do – and it won't be pleasant!" his partner warned, with a swift glance at Captain Banks' office door.
"I've been working, Jim…we both have," Blair defended himself. "It's just that we haven't got anything to show for it!"
Jim Ellison couldn't in any honesty deny it. No matter which case they had pursued, no lead panned out today. Witnesses or potential suspects alike, they either weren't to be found or refused to cooperate. Snitches didn't return phone calls. Evidence was singularly lacking. Jim and Blair had dragged themselves all over Cascade on various fruitless errands…and had achieved absolutely nothing. Their captain was not likely to be pleased.
"I am like so glad it's Friday…and we have the weekend off," Blair said fervently. He stared at the clock on Ellison's desk, obviously counting the seconds. "There! Quittin' time!" He leaped to his feet, grabbed his jacket from the coat tree and shrugged into it.
Jim wasn't slow in following his example, and they hurried out of the Major Crimes bullpen as if pursued by demons…or possibly their captain. Once in the safe haven of the elevator they grinned at each other sheepishly.
Blair's smile faded abruptly. "Dang. I've got to stop on the way home and pick up some groceries. The cupboard and fridge are bare, except for oatmeal and zucchini squash. And some wine."
Since the recent extensive remodeling of the condos at 852 Prospect Street, and Blair's occupancy of the apartment just below Jim's – the two now connected by a spiral staircase – the younger man had been finding he was out of practice at keeping himself stocked with foodstuffs. For years he'd depended on Jim reminding him they were out of this or that. This wasn't the first emergency shopping trip he'd had to make.
"Well, the wine might be all right…but the other – what a disgusting combination." Jim shuddered slightly. "Good thing you're not the one cooking dinner tonight, Chief."
"Sorry, man, I'll try to hurry…in fact, don't wait dinner on me. Go ahead and eat without me."
"Oh, don't worry about it. I may pick up something take-out anyway; otherwise it's leftovers night. We'll eat when you get home, whenever that turns out to be."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Okay – thanks, Jim. I'll see you at home."
Reaching the parking garage level, the partners separated, each going to his own vehicle. Blair was parked nearer the exit, and was already swallowed up in traffic by the time Jim drove onto the street.
#####
Two-plus hours later a worried Jim Ellison was trying his best not to worry, a situation in which he found himself more than he liked, when his partner was involved. Although Blair had been known to make extensive shopping trips, they were usually planned in advance. This had been spur-of-the-moment, and even though he needed to re-stock his kitchen, it shouldn't have taken this long…and he had been aware that Jim was preparing supper and would be waiting and hungry. At first Jim had simply snacked while waiting. Now it wasn't hunger that bothered him the most, it was concern for his partner and friend.
Ellison had tried calling Blair's cell phone. The first time he'd gotten a breathless "can't talk, man, in traffic!" response. When he tried it again, after giving Blair what he considered a reasonable amount of time, it repeatedly went to voicemail. That was unacceptable – for both personal and professional reasons. Detectives were supposed to be accessible, even during their off-duty hours. And – in Jim's opinion, anyway – Blair was always supposed to be accessible to Jim . He couldn't imagine why Blair would have turned his phone off…although there was always the possibility that the battery had died, or worse, he'd lost the thing. And that was disturbing too, for how could the man have lost his telephone inside his car or in a grocery store, for Pete's sake?
Just when Jim was considering going out and searching for his wayward Guide, he heard the unmistakable noises of Blair arriving home to the apartment below: front door being unlocked, footsteps, keys jangling. He was muttering softly to himself, brief snatches of words that didn't make lots of sense to the listening Sentinel. Maybe he'd had car trouble? The bad old days of the ancient and decrepit Volvo failing unexpectedly were gone, thanks to extensive overhauling and tune-ups, but there were always things like flat tires or accidents. There came the sounds of sacks being deposited on the kitchen counter or the dining table, and then – not too surprisingly – Blair exited his home again, and Jim heard him tromping down the stairs, evidently to fetch another load.
He must have bought a hell of a lot of groceries! Ellison marveled, grinning at his partner's stamina, and set about getting their belated dinner on his own dining table. Downstairs, Blair returned again, still muttering under his breath. Jim wasn't interested enough to bother upping his hearing – the fact that the other man was safely home was enough information for right now.
"I'm home, Jim!" Sandburg called, after a few minutes. "I'll be up in a little while; I have stuff to put away, and I want to get cleaned up."
Jim walked over to the stair railing discreetly tucked into the corner of the living room. "Okay, Chief; dinner's on when you get up here."
Suddenly, however, Ellison's head jerked up, and he took a deeper breath, concentrating on the distinct reek wafting up the spiral stairs from Blair's apartment. "Blair? Do I smell smoke? What happened?" Visions of car fires, of stores ablaze, of his best friend somehow involved with burning buildings disturbed the Sentinel so much that he started down the stairs. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine; don't worry!" Blair shouted back. "The CFD was burning an old house for practice, between the precinct and the grocery store, and I stopped by to see if they needed any police presence or anything. I hung around for awhile, watching. Sorry if I stink of smoke. I'll shower and change clothes before I come up."
The words were reassuring, but Jim, automatically assessing Sandburg's vitals and physical condition, alerted to a surprisingly jittery heartbeat and breathing pattern. Was his partner just breathless from carting all the grocery sacks up from the street, or was something else going on?
"You sure—" Jim stopped and revised what he'd intended to say. "You need any help putting things away?"
"No – no, I'm good, thanks," Sandburg replied hastily. "I'll be up pretty soon. You just go chill, man."
Frowning a little because he was uncertain what was going on – it wasn't like Blair to be secretive, except perhaps at Christmastime – Jim returned to his own kitchen and completed dinner preparations. He eventually heard Blair's shower running, then banging drawers and doors announced the younger man's donning clothes. At long last Blair came bouncing up the spiral staircase, clean and damp and smiling.
"Man, that smells good, whatever it is!" he exclaimed, and headed for his customary seat at the table. Seeing the main dish, he added "Chicken tamale pie? I love you! And that's not leftovers."
"It used up the leftover chicken from Wednesday," Ellison disclaimed modestly, and settled into his own place. "Dig in, Chief; you must be as starved as I am."
The meal proceeded pleasantly, but Jim noted an odd wariness in Blair's manner, and more than once the younger man cast surreptitious glances towards the stairs leading to his apartment. Growing more and more curious, Jim finally hazarded a question when he and Blair were companionably doing the supper dishes.
"You still seem kinda tense, Chief – something happen before you got home?"
Blair looked up in quick denial. "No…of course n—"
"Sandburg, haven't you learned yet that I know when you're lying?"
Blair's lips tightened briefly, then he smiled and shrugged philosophically. "Can't blame a guy for trying. Let's finish the dishes first, and then I'll tell you."
They settled in the living room a few minutes later, Blair on the loveseat with a cup of tea, Jim stretched out sideways on the long sofa. "It was this way," Blair began.
"I just happened to drive by as the fire department was starting their practice burn," he explained, "and like I said before, I stopped to watch for a minute. First, just in case there was any need for police presence – which there probably wasn't, but it was a good excuse – and second, because it's kind of fascinating!" Blair's azure-blue eyes glowed with excitement, and Jim couldn't restrain a sympathetic grin in response.
"I'll grant you that," he acknowledged.
"So there I was, and the firefighters were doing their thing," Blair went on, "and then all of a sudden this…something…darted out from underneath the house! At first I thought it was as rat—" he shuddered eloquently, remembering all too well the rats which had shared his living space in an exploded warehouse years before. "but then I realized it was a cat – and it was carrying something! It came towards where I was standing, and then I could see it was lugging this little kitten! Apparently a mother cat had been living under the house with her babies.
"She came pretty close to me – I was standing at the end of this little scrap of lawn, right by the sidewalk – and sort of dumped the baby in a pile of leaves and long grass and yard debris, then turned around and ran back underneath the house." Sandburg's hands came into play now, gestures accompanying his tale. "I yelled to the firemen and pointed – and they saw her, but there wasn't much they could do…they couldn't stop the fire at that point, and they couldn't stop pouring water on it, though they did try not to spray her with water; the force of it would have knocked her yards! But at least they were aware."
Jim was listening raptly now, for Blair was nothing if not an accomplished story-teller. "Then what?"
"She came out again, dragging along another baby kitten – and went back twice more, for two others. She kept dumping them in that pile of leaves and I guess she told them somehow to stay put, because they didn't try to get away. They were pretty little to go wandering off anyway." Blair stopped then, and his face grew sad. "And then she went in one more time." He swallowed and went silent.
"What happened, Chief?" Jim asked gently, already fearing what his partner was going to say.
"She went under the house," Blair continued slowly, "and right then the – the floor of the structure…it collapsed." He pressed his lips together in a thin line, obviously trying to keep emotion at bay. "She would have been…killed…instantly. I hope it was instantly, anyhow."
"Aw, Blair…" Jim moved to the other end of the couch, next to the loveseat, and laid a comforting hand on his partner's knee. "I'm sorry, that's too bad."
"Yeah," Blair muttered, eyes downcast. He drew in a deep breath, followed by an equally heavy sigh. "It is."
"So what happened to the kittens?" Jim asked, after a moment. "Did someone take them to the Humane Society?"
"No," came the quiet answer. "Three of the firefighters decided they would each take one home. That left just one…" Blair risked a look at his Sentinel, from beneath his eyelashes.
Oh no…oh no, oh no…he didn't! He couldn't…oh hell, of course he could.
"Sandburg, you aren't going to say what I think you are, are you?" Ellison tried his best to keep his voice even, and non-threatening.
"I had to take her, Jim! She – there was no one else who would! She was so tiny and all alone – and if I hadn't, she…she would've died, man!"
"Humane Society," Jim reiterated.
"She was too little to be a Humane Society kitten." Blair looked up in defiance, blue eyes meeting blue. "She needed me."
"Sandburg, do you know what having a cat here means?! Cat hair, cat dander, clawed drapes and furniture, fleas, litter boxes stinking up the place, cat food stinking up the place—"
"Pardon me, Jim, but isn't that a moot point? The kitten isn't up here in your apartment; she's downstairs in mine."
Incensed, Ellison jerked a thumb towards the spiral staircase. "And what's to keep it from coming up here? I don't want a cat around. They're an annoyance. They jump on counters and get into stuff—"
Blair got to his feet, anger suffusing his face. "It will be quite a while before she's big enough to climb the stairs. I'll shut her in the bathroom after that, when I'm not there with her, or get a door put on my spare room, and shut her in, if that's what it takes. I'll put a baby gate across the stairs at the bottom that will slow her down. I'll put her litter box outside on my balcony." He turned to leave – pointedly not by way of the staircase, but toward the front door instead. "Sorry this didn't meet with your approval…but I didn't realize I needed your permission, or rather, that you'd be such a prick about it. The building code allows pets, after all. You used to have a cat as a kid; you told me you did, and you seemed to like that one all right. But I'll keep her out of your way. See you at the station tomorrow; goodnight."
"Sandburg—" Jim was on his feet before Blair got halfway to the door, realizing that Blair was serious about this, and that he was also very angry. Pissing off his best friend and partner wasn't what Jim had intended to do, despite his misgivings about this new addition to their home. "Chief, wait. Okay, maybe I was a little hasty. I'm sorry." He reached for Blair's arm, but missed. "Blair, please, don't leave like this."
Blair paused and turned back, but still looked both angry and skeptical. "Sorry for what? For being a jerk? Or just sorry that I'm mad about it and not giving in to you like I usually do?"
As if you ever give in to me over anything! Jim sighed. "Both, I guess. I'm not happy about this, but then you did spring it on me out of the blue."
Blair chuffed out an exasperated breath. "Jim, I didn't decide ahead of time to bring home a kitten! How could I have warned you in advance – and wouldn't your reaction have been just the same?"
"I dunno…maybe not." Jim thought about it a moment and rolled his eyes. "No, you're right, I'd have probably insisted you take it to the Humane Society. I suppose that's why you were so late, huh – you were buying stuff for a cat."
"I was also stopping by the 24-hour vet clinic to get her checked out, and buying groceries too… Why don't you come down and meet her," Sandburg invited, moving back towards the spiral stairs. "C'mon, give her a chance, huh?"
Unenthusiastic but determined to atone for his churlish earlier behavior, Jim followed the beckoning hand, and the two men descended the stairs in an uneasy silence broken only by the thud of their feet on the steps.
Jim looked around Blair's abode, as always relishing the differences and similarities between their two apartments. Familiar things which had been in their shared space for five years, new furnishings purchased when Blair moved downstairs, things of Jim's which had mysteriously migrated here. The Sentinel's eyes flicked back and forth, searching for signs of the new kitten.
"Over here, Jim." Blair's voice was very soft. He was kneeling beside a corrugated-cardboard box tucked next to the gas fireplace, which was turned on, flickering flames emanating warmth and light. Blair reached into the box and brought out…a very small something. "Come and get acquainted, man."
Jim hung back. "Does it have fleas?"
Blair scowled. "No, 'it' doesn't have fleas. They gave her sort of a bath at the vet clinic. She's too little to get flea drops or wear a flea collar, but she's clean now. Come here, Jim."
Obediently, Jim dropped to his knees as well, instinctively putting out cupped hands as Blair offered him the tiny ball of fluff. He looked down at what rested in his palms…and was lost.
Ah yes, there's nothing quite like the sight of a big, tough guy totally enthralled by a tiny baby kitten.
Soft…so soft. Even to heightened senses the kitten fur was unbelievably soft. He could barely even feel it when it brushed against his skin. The golden-yellow baby was still limply asleep, but as Jim gazed, mesmerized, she stretched a little and opened her tiny mouth to emit an almost soundless mew. Infinitesimal ears barely poked through fluffy fur atop the little round head. Her paws were white, resembling tiny snow boots. Her fur was the color of…of…
"Peach fuzz," Jim said hoarsely.
"What?" Blair blinked at him in bewilderment.
"Peach fuzz," Jim repeated, clearing his throat a little. "Her name. She's the same color as peaches, and she's so fuzzy. Really fuzzy. So…"
"So naturally she ought to be called Peach Fuzz." Confusion abated, Blair smiled tenderly at his partner. "I hadn't thought about what to name her yet. But I like that. So she can be Peaches, or Fuzzy, or Peachy-keen, or Fuzzy-Wuzzy, or Here-Kitty-Kitty…or Peach Fuzz when we're being formal or she's in trouble for being naughty." He watched as Jim stroked one fingertip over the kitten's head; Peaches responded with another squeak and cracked her eyes open. One little white paw stretched out, tiny white claws extended.
"Blue eyes," Jim murmured, still stroking. He had the sensation that his insides were melting into gloppy goo. He touched one of those miniscule ears, and snorted with laughter at the resultant flick. He did it again with the same result, still chuckling.
"They won't stay blue. They might be green or gold when she grows up."
"She's white underneath, too." As Peaches woke further, she elongated across Jim's hands, exposing her white stomach. Obedient to the mute request, he obliged with a tummy-rub, and was rewarded with a surprisingly loud purr. "That's some engine you have there, little one. She doesn't weigh anything," he added quietly. "She's just tiny little bones and…fluff. It's like holding fuzzy air."
"You understand now?" Blair asked, reaching to pet their new acquisition as well.
"Understand?"
"Why I couldn't leave her to die."
"You couldn't leave her," Jim agreed. He tickled Peach Fuzz gently beneath her little chin. "He couldn't leave you, could he, Peaches?" he crooned. "No, no way."
"And I'm forgiven for invading the sanctity of your home with this furry pest, O Mighty Sentinel of the Great City?" Blair's eyes were twinkling now, but there was a small shadow of doubt still lurking in the depths.
Jim turned his ice-blue gaze toward his partner, his attention finally fully on Blair. "Okay, rub it in," he growled amiably. "I was being a jerk, just like you said, and I'm sorry. You're right, there's no way she could have gone to the Humane Society. She's too young. And she's really sw— she's cute." Big tough cops don't call things 'sweet,' even baby kittens. "She'll be nice company for you."
For me, huh? Blair's smile widened, but he didn't voice his thoughts. I'll be lucky if I get to see her on alternate weekends, the way you're going!
"Is this where she's going to sleep?" Jim indicated the box, which was padded with a towel and at least one of Blair's old checked-flannel shirts.
"Until she's big enough to climb out, at least." Blair levered himself to his feet. "I put her litter box in the bathroom. I got some toys and a feeding dish too, but she's too small yet to play much. Actually, the dish is too big as well."
"Isn't she too small to eat cat food, too?" Jim fretted. He reluctantly handed Peaches to Blair to hold while he rose, then took her back as if it was his inalienable right. "And how will she get to her litter box?"
"I'll carry her there every time after she eats, and hope that if she pees in her bed-box that I notice it right away and can put clean cloths in. And yeah, technically she's too little to eat cat food, but I think she can learn to lap milk pretty fast. I'm going to try it right away. They gave me some samples of kitten formula at the vet clinic, and I bought some more, and some soft kitten food, plus some dry stuff for when she gets a little older." Blair led the way toward the kitchen and opened a cupboard, displaying a shelf full of small cans and a pasteboard box of Kitten Chow.
"Heck, did you buy any groceries for yourself, Chief, or just stuff for the cat?"
Blair blushed. "I have to go out and do a little more grocery shopping tomorrow, I guess. I did pick up some things, but I was running kind of short on time by then."
Jim chuckled, shaking his head. "Why am I not surprised?"
"You ever taught a kitten to drink from a dish, Jim?"
"No, don't think so."
Blair grinned. "It's funny." Reaching into the refrigerator, he took out a bottle of something that resembled baby formula, and poured a small amount into a little bowl. "Let's try it now and see how she does." He set the bowl in the microwave and carefully programmed it for only a few seconds. "If it gets too hot I'll put in a little cold water."
Tested with Sentinel precision, the formula was deemed to be the proper temperature. Jim watched as Blair put the bowl on the floor, atop a paper towel, and then reached for Peach Fuzz.
"C'mere, Peaches, you hungry?" Sandburg set the tiny kitten down beside the bowl on her wobbly little legs…and then, to Jim's appalled astonishment, promptly pushed her nose into the contents!
"Hey! What're you doing to her!?" Jim protested, as Peaches snorted milk into her nose, sneezed, and hastily backed away, shaking her head. "She doesn't like that!"
"Chill, Jim. She's fine. This is how they learn." Blair firmly pushed his partner back and guided the kitten to the bowl again, dunking her nose as before. Again Peaches sneezed, nearly knocking herself over, but instead of backing up this time, she began licking her nose to get the drops of formula off. "Attagirl, Peaches, you've got the idea!" This time Blair dipped his finger into the liquid and offered it to the kitten to lick. It took two more tries for Peaches to get the hang of it, but when she did, she eagerly followed Blair's coaxing fingers into the bowl and finally began lapping delicately at the contents.
"Well, I'll be damned." Jim hunkered down on his heels, watching their baby discovering the joys of milk-in-a-bowl. "She's smart, Sandburg."
"Of course she is." Blair was having so much difficulty holding in his laughter at the sudden about-face in his partner's attitude that he had to retreat to the living room and fuss with Peach Fuzz's bedding to hide it. "When she's done we'll introduce her to the litter box."
Ellison balked a little at that particular task, but Blair didn't mind. He'd been starting to think Jim was going to monopolize the kitten completely. Peach Fuzz didn't seem to be interested in it, however, even after Blair scraped her little white boots through the litter, and eventually they returned to the living room. As if it were a matter of course, Jim settled into a chair and held out his hands. Cuddled gently in the Sentinel's lap, tummy full and surrounded by love, little Peaches purred herself to sleep.
###
The partners did what they normally did on Friday nights; watched sports and news on television, talked over the past day, the past week, made plans for the weekend. Every so often Peach Fuzz stirred and squeaked, but settled back down to doze again when Jim stroked her fuzzy little head. He was fascinated by how her ears would automatically flick whenever he touched one, no matter how deeply asleep she seemed to be. After two or three touches, however, she would shake her head violently and blink sleepily up at her tormenter.
"Jim, don't tease her."
"But she's funny."
Blair had to chuckle. "I know, but it's not nice to tease helpless babies, man."
"She's not helpless; she's already put a dozen pin-holes in my skin."
"Serves you right for tickling her ears."
Jim lightly touched another infinitesimal ear just to watch Peaches flick it. "She looks like she's going to be long-haired, doesn't she?" he sighed. "Cat hair everywhere…"
"I guess she'll take a lot of combing and brushing," Blair allowed. "If we start doing it when she's a baby she'll probably learn to enjoy it."
The object of their conversation squeaked again, stirred, and began butting her head against Jim's shirtfront, mewing plaintively and kneading with her front paws. Blair rose to his feet, hands extended.
"She's hungry again. I'll take her."
"You go ahead and warm up her milk," Jim countered, keeping Peaches in his lap, "and I'll bring her out to the kitchen when it's ready."
Watching the kitten sloppily lap at the warm liquid a few moments later, Jim inquired, "Is she going to need to eat this often 24/7?"
"Probably for awhile," Blair conceded. "I'll have to set an alarm so I wake up every three hours. Her stomach isn't big enough to hold very much at a time yet."
Ellison frowned. "How are you going to manage on that little sleep when we're working? Or feed her when we're at work?"
Blair shrugged. "I've gone without much sleep before; guess I can do it again. I haven't figured out about during the workday – or if we have to go on stakeout or something." He smiled down at little Peaches, happily slurping her milk. "And this is for a good cause." He looked at his watch and sighed. "In fact, I suppose I'd better go to bed as soon as she's done eating, so I can catch some zees before she gets hungry again." Blair frowned thoughtfully. "I'm afraid she'll wake up and I won't hear her from my bedroom, though, and she might cry and wake you up – turn on the white noise generator, man," he added. "I don't want to take her box up to the bedroom, because then I'd have to carry her down the stairs to feed her, and what if I stumbled or dropped her or something!?"
"Would you entertain a suggestion?" Jim asked diffidently. Despite his immediate adoration of the baby kitten, he was forced to admit Peaches was Blair's pet…although Blair seemed willing to share.
"Sure, what?"
"Sleep on the bed in your spare room. You'll be closer to Peaches, so you'll hear her – and you won't risk your neck stumbling down the stairs in the middle of the night."
"Oh man, why didn't I think of that? Thank you, that's just what I'll do." Blair heaved a sigh of relief. "I'll set the timer on my phone, since there's no clock in that room." Looking down, he noticed that Peach Fuzz had nearly finished off her latest meal. "Guess I'd better do a bathroom run for her, and then put her in her box. Maybe this time she'll figure it out. And then I'll go right to bed."
"Is that a gentle hint you'd like me to leave?" Ellison teased.
"Sorry…" Blair began, but was cut off by Jim's upraised hand.
"I'm kidding, Chief. I agree that you ought to get some sleep while you can. At least it's the weekend; you can sleep in, and catch some naps during the day. See you tomorrow morning." With a last gentle stroke of Peach's downy head, Jim took himself off up the stairs to #307. He kept an ear on the activity downstairs, however, and heard an enthusiastic "Good girl!" from Blair – evidently Peach Fuzz was catching on to what a litter box was for.
A few minutes later Blair's voice drifted up the stairwell. "Jim? Could I ask a favor?"
Jim ambled over to lean on the stair railing. He looked down into his best friend's anxious face. "Seems to me you're already on the receiving end of quite a few right now…but what is it?"
"Could I borrow the shirt you're wearing to put in Peaches' box, for her to sleep with?"
"What?" All right, this was going way, way too far. "You want me to donate one of my good shirts for a cat bed? What's wrong with what she's got?"
"Nothing's wrong with it, exactly…it's just that, I thought, well, you've been holding her all evening, and so she'd be familiar with the way you smell, and she associates that with comfort – and security, ya know? I thought if we put your shirt in her bed, if she wakes up and is scared because she's all alone, at least that would smell familiar to her. After all, she's used to having Mama Cat and siblings there all the time, and now she'll be by herself." Blair stared upwards, blue eyes pleading. "I'm going to put mine in too, but she'd like yours better, and it's not like you weren't going to put it in the laundry anyhow. It's not going to get hurt just being in her bed!"
"And what's to stop her from using it as a convenient port-a-potty?" Jim demanded crossly…but he was already unbuttoning the article of clothing in question.
"I don't know," Blair admitted, "but I hope that she manages to confine it to mine, if the situation arises. She did just use her litter box!" His face brightened as Jim came down the stairs holding out the shirt. "Oh man, thanks!"
"You owe me big time, Junior, if anything happens to that shirt."
"Maybe you could wear one of your old ratty flannel ones tomorrow, since it's Saturday, and we can change it out for that," Sandburg suggested.
"Wait, wait – I have a flannel in the clothes hamper; I had it on last night. Would that do instead?" Jim snatched back his cotton shirt hopefully.
"Sure, that would be great!"
Jim trudged back upstairs and retrieved his flannel shirt, then handed it over to Blair. "You still owe me if she does a number on this, Sandburg, old shirt or not."
"I know, I know. Peaches, you have to behave with Jim's shirt, okay?" Blair's voice trailed off as he went to re-arrange Peach Fuzz's bed.
Jim shook his head as he turned away from the stairs. "Get to sleep, Chief; you'll be up again before you know it."
#####
Jim became slowly aware that morning had arrived. Despite the white noise generator earplugs and a sleep mask, something subliminal told him that night was over, and it was time to wake up. Knowing that it was Saturday and he didn't have to get up and go to work, the Sentinel had essentially 'turned off' his internal clock, allowing himself to catch some extra sleep time. Often on these occasions the warmth of sunlight pouring down through the skylight was what woke him; this morning that wasn't the case.
Jim drowsily pushed up a corner of the sleep mask and stared upward at the skylight where silvery splats and lowering gray clouds informed him that it was raining, and raining hard. There went his tentative plan for taking a run this morning. He briefly considered rolling over and going back to sleep, but decided he was slept out. He carefully removed the earplugs, steeling himself against the barrage of noises they had blocked. He didn't often need to use the white noise generators any more, so was out of the habit of dialing down his hearing when he took them out.
Now that he was more awake he recalled last evening's events, and wondered how Blair had survived the night tending to little Peach Fuzz's needs. Yawning and stretching, Ellison levered himself out of bed and made his way down to the main floor. He listened carefully, but heard no signs of life – aside from the usual breathing-and-heartbeats – from Blair's apartment below. By concentrating the Sentinel discovered he could single out Peach Fuzz's soft, rapid heartbeat. He smiled involuntarily, thinking: Sandburg will be tickled to know that. He stopped off in the kitchen to start a pot of coffee before heading to the bathroom.
By the time Jim was showered, shaved and dressed, the coffee was ready, spreading its fragrance throughout the loft. He poured himself a cup and balancing it carefully, made his way down the spiral staircase to Blair's abode, to find out just what was up with The Cop and The Kitten.
There was no sign of Blair, but Jim could hear soft, rhythmic breathing coming from the spare room and assumed his partner was deeply asleep. He quietly approached the box tucked snugly beside the fireplace, and leaned over to survey the contents.
Curled into a tiny furry ball, Peach Fuzz slept peacefully on Jim's shirt. The big detective felt his insides melt again as he watched her. Checking his watch, he mentally counted three-hour segments from when Blair had fed the kitten the night before, and decided that kitty-breakfast was going to be due soon. He took another look at the sparkly bead curtain that served as a door to Blair's guest room, wondering whether he should wake his partner or…
Or simply feed Peach Fuzz himself. Moving stealthily as an Indian scout, he slipped into the guest room and confiscated Sandburg's cell phone, noting that the alarm was due to go off in less than ten minutes. He turned off the timer and pocketed the phone, then went to the kitchen and got out the kitten formula and put some in the little bowl.
Blair slept through the beeps of the microwave oven, but to Jim's surprise, Peach Fuzz woke immediately and began mewling.
"Shh, shh, you'll wake Blair," Jim hissed remonstrance as he scooped the kitten up and carried her to the kitchen. "Here you go – do you need reminding how to do this?"
Evidently she didn't, for she toddled straight for the bowl when he set her down, and began lapping as soon as she reached it.
"Hungry, weren't you? Well, you just eat your fill, sweetheart, you just go right ahead." Jim squatted down beside Peaches to watch her enthusiastic appreciation of breakfast. When the bowl was empty he carried her into the bathroom and set her in the litter box without any great anticipation of success. To his utter surprise, she promptly scratched at the litter and then proceeded to prove she'd learned her lessons well the night before.
"You really are a smart kitty, aren't you? Good girl, Peaches, good girl." Jim picked her up and carried her back to the living room. Rather than putting her in her box, he settled on Blair's sofa with Peaches on his lap. "You keep eating like this and you're going to be big in no time," he told her, stifling laughter as she began climbing up his shirtfront to his shoulder. He carefully peeled her claws loose from the fabric and re-settled her in his lap, petting her to keep her there. "We have to be quiet," he warned the kitten, "because Sandburg's asleep." He tickled her ears. "He's tired. All because of you." Speaking of Blair made him look towards the beaded curtain again, and a speculative gleam came to the ice-blue eyes. "You're going to go berserk with those beads when you're a little older, Peaches…Blair may have to spring for a wooden door sooner than he thought."
The kitten rolled onto her back in Jim's lap, clutching at his hand with all four paws, but not really digging in with her claws. Jim chuckled softly, again tickling her tiny ears and running a finger down her little nose.
Peach Fuzz grew tired after only about 15 minutes of playtime, and curled on Jim's knee to have a nap. He carefully set her in her box without waking her, and retreated up the stairs to his own apartment, moving as silently as a former Army Ranger could. He still had Blair's phone in his pocket.
###
"Oh no! I slept through – oh hell and damnation, poor Peaches!" The frantic voice floated up through the stairwell, half an hour later, clear to Sentinel hearing, accompanied by the thump of feet hitting the floor. "Why didn't the timer go off? Where's my phone? Poor Peaches…"
"Calm down, Chief; the cat is just fine," Jim leaned over the railing and called, adding "Hush up, you're going to wake her up with all your yelling."
"Huh? Jim? Whaddya mean, she's fine? She needs to be fed…"
"She's been fed. And…littered."
Blair appeared at the foot of the stairs, hair a tousled mass and sleepy eyes wide in alarm. "You fed her?"
"What, you don't think I could do a good enough job?" Ellison bristled slightly.
"No, of course you'd do a good job – I just didn't want you bothered with it." Blair winced a little. "Did the alarm wake you up or something? I don't know where my phone went. Or did she wake up and cry and I slept through it? Uh…how mad are you?" he went on miserably. "You aren't…you aren't going to make me get rid of her…are you?" His lips tightened. "I won't do it."
The older man sighed. Once you get the reputation of being an ogre, you're stuck with it, no matter what. "Hang on a sec; I'll be right down," he said, and retreated. Pouring another cup of coffee, he carried it carefully down the spiral stairs and handed it to his flummoxed partner. "Drink that," he commanded, and gently steered Sandburg toward the kitchen. "Sit down," he added, "and shut up for a minute, and listen."
Blair frowned but obeyed, sparing a quick glance into Peach Fuzz's box as he passed it.
Jim seated himself across the table from Blair and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Point one: no, I am not going to demand you get rid of Peaches. She's ours. I may regret it when she's a 15-pound cat with a bad temper, shredding the furniture and the drapes and my clothes, but… Point two: no, the alarm didn't wake me; I was already awake, and I came down to visit her and make sure you were okay, after being up off and on all night. She woke up while I was here, so I just went ahead and fed her. I didn't mind, and she was just fine using her box. Point three: I took your phone and turned off the alarm so you could get some more shut-eye. Point four…well, maybe there isn't a point four. Unless it's that I'm wondering if you don't like me messing with the kitten because she's yours." He pulled Blair's cell phone from his pocket and handed it across the table. "There's your phone."
Blair had listened to Jim's discourse with his mouth dropped open a little in amazement. He picked up the cell phone and stared at it blankly, then raised his eyes to his partner. A small grin emerged. "Point four: I love you 'messing' with Peaches, and please feel free to do it whenever you want. Point three: thank you for being so kind about the phone and letting me sleep. Point two: I appreciate you coming down to check on me and the kitty. Point one…of course she's ours, not just mine." The grin widened. "Thanks, Jim; I mean it."
"Now that we've settled all that, how about I go up and make some breakfast while you get dressed?" Jim got to his feet and walked towards the spiral staircase, briefly clasping Blair's shoulder as he passed.
Blair smiled joyously. "I'll be up in twenty minutes."
#####
"Why isn't she more…wild?" Jim inquired over their breakfast of fried eggs, bacon and toast. "She hasn't been socialized, as far as we know, but she seems perfectly happy with us, not afraid or anything."
"I wondered that too," Blair admitted. "She did plenty of hissing and spitting at the vet's, when they were bathing her, but she never did with me, before, and she certainly isn't doing it now. To tell the truth, I have no idea why she seems so tame. Unless she senses that we mean her no harm – and of course, we're feeding her. Nothing like cupboard love, man!" He grinned teasingly.
"And we pet her and cuddle her all the time…we're all she has," Jim nodded thoughtfully. "No more mama cat, no more kitten sibs."
"Whom she had to fight for room at the milk bar…here she's getting it all herself. Hey, maybe she likes you because you have a big cat for a spirit guide, what do you think?"
"If that was true she wouldn't like you at all, because of your wolf," Jim pointed out reasonably.
"She likes me because I rescued her," Blair said loftily. "That outweighs the wolf." Looking over the ravaged table, he got to his feet and started stacking empty dishes. "Do you mind keeping an eye on her while I finish my grocery shopping? I promise I'll make it fast." He began running water in the sink."
"Have at it." Ellison waved a dismissive hand as he got out a dishtowel to dry the clean dishes. "Take your time; Peaches and I will be fine."
Weekends usually being cleaning days for the detective partners, Jim set to work after Blair departed for the grocery store. He took a load of dirty clothes down to the basement laundry room, then tackled the bathroom – which was a much less arduous task now that Blair and his abundant hair lived downstairs. As he finished one task and began another, Jim occasionally leaned over the stair railing and listened to make sure Peaches wasn't crying.
He had just returned from the basement, having taken down another load of laundry and put the first into the dryer, when he heard plaintive little mews coming from Blair's apartment. Hastening down the stairs, Jim found Peaches standing on her hind legs in her box, wailing forlornly.
"What's wrong, little girl? You hungry again?"
When he picked the kitten up, she immediately made a scramble for his shoulder, sinking her claws into his t-shirt and the skin beneath like miniature pitons. Stifling exclamations of pain, Jim peeled her free and cupped her little body in his hands. "Hey, mind your manners," he chided. "I'm not a climbing post. I'll get you something to eat if you just hang on a minute."
Peaches, however, only lapped a few mouthfuls of milk, as if she was merely being polite. Jim took her to visit her litter box, with commendable results, but when he placed her back in her bed-box the kitten immediately stood up on her back legs and began mewling once again.
"Well, for Pete's sake what's wrong…are you lonely?" Jim scooped her up again and she began purring. "Look, Fuzz-face, I can't just sit around and hold you all morning – I have things to do!" She mewed softly in response, effectively stifling his protests and excuses.
Stumped, he stood irresolute, petting Peaches and thinking. He couldn't stuff her into his pants pocket…his flowered kitchen apron had a pocket, but he wasn't about to put a cat into that – he cooked in that apron, after all! Suddenly the icy-blue eyes lit up as Ellison was hit with an inspiration. Cuddling the kitten, he ascended the spiral stairs and rummaged in one of the storage cupboards in his own apartment – the one that held his toolbox.
Two minutes later, leather tool-belt/apron buckled securely around his waist and Peach Fuzz contentedly snuggled into one of its capacious pockets, Jim went about his Saturday household chores.
###
When Blair arrived home, this time lugging numerous reusable cloth grocery bags, he set his burdens down and then went immediately to check on Peach Fuzz. To his shock, there was no tiny ball of fluff in the box! He hurried to the base of the spiral staircase. "Jim? Where's Peaches? She's not in her box!"
Footsteps on the floor above were followed by Jim's voice calling down: "Relax, she's up here with me. She wanted some company. I'll bring her down in a bit."
Blair blinked. "She wanted company?" Hesitantly he moved towards his kitchen. "Well…okay. I'll put stuff away, then. I got stuff for dinner, and I'll make lunch – you've been having to do all the cooking lately." He began unloading and storing his purchases, quietly amazed that Jim had taken little Peach Fuzz up to his own apartment. What happened to 'I don't want it up here. I don't like cats'? Before he'd finished completely, Jim's tread on the stairs interrupted his ruminations.
"I'm going to run the vacuum cleaner," Ellison explained, depositing Peach Fuzz in her box, "and I didn't want her to be scared."
Blair grinned at the sight of the leather tool belt. "Very innovative cat-carrier, there, buddy!" He joined Jim beside Peaches' box and leaned over to coo at the occupant. "Hey, Peaches, did you go visiting?"
"I fed her about an hour ago, but she didn't seem very hungry then. She just wanted to be held, that's why I thought she was lonesome. She'll probably want a nap now – cleaning's hard work for a little cat." With a grin and a wave of his hand, Jim departed up the stairs, and a minute later the muted roar of the canister vacuum was heard.
Blair shook his head in amusement. If I'd realized Jim was going to be so nuts over a kitten I'd've brought one home years ago. After petting Peaches and telling her quietly that she was a miracle worker and therefore a very special kitty, he went back to putting away groceries and prepping their lunch.
#####
The rest of the weekend went by in a pleasant combination of necessary household chores, relaxation in front of the television together and a lot of kitten-tending. Blair faithfully got up to feed Peaches during the nighttime hours, but Jim made a point of taking the first early-morning stint. To their surprise, Peaches began lengthening the times between her 'meals' on her own, although Blair swore up and down that the veterinarian had said that their baby might need to be on three-hour feedings for at least a week.
"Maybe it's because she's getting more – no competition. And that kitten formula might be a little richer than real cat's milk," Jim hazarded a guess, when Blair commented on it on Sunday evening.
"I don't know – but I'm glad, because it gives me hope maybe she'll manage tomorrow, when we're at work. I'm kinda worried about it," the younger man admitted. "Even coming home at lunchtime to feed her, she'll have to go five-plus hours – and what if we get called out on a case and can't get home at lunch?" His worried gaze softened a little as he looked down at the kitten in his lap. Peaches was lying on her back, batting ferociously at the feather attached to a short stick that Blair was waving over her head.
Ellison sighed. "We knew this was coming," he reminded his partner. "We're just lucky that we weren't called out over the weekend, and you know it."
"Yeah…"
"Maybe you ought to have gotten one of those cage things, so that you could have put a dish of milk in with her, and a little litter box, but she couldn't get out and wander around."
"I considered it on Friday, but…" Blair trailed off indecisively. He sighed. "And it's too late now for that. It's already almost ten o'clock. Even if I found a place open that carried them at this hour, she'd have no time to get used to it, and she might panic if we stuffed her in it tomorrow morning and then just left."
Jim conceded the point with a nod. "Well," he said finally, "we'll just have to feed her well before we leave and hope for the best. Probably should take separate cars to work – maybe we can take turns getting away more than once, during the day."
"I guess so." Blair tickled Peaches' ears with the feather, laughing at her frenzied response. "You'll be a good little girl while we're gone, won't you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy?" he crooned. "You'll just curl up and sleep all morning, until someone comes home and feeds you…"
"Speaking of sleeping," Jim announced, getting to his feet, "I'm heading upstairs, Chief. And you'd better hit the sack pretty soon too. I'll figure on doing the early-morning Peaches detail again if you handle the middle-of-the-night ones, okay?" He bent over his partner's lap and stroked Peach Fuzz. She responded by grabbing his thumb with both little front paws, and chewing on it enthusiastically. He tapped her nose reprovingly. "No biting people." She licked his hand, and he chose to see it as an apology. "That's better. Night, Chief. Night, Fuzz-Face."
"Good night, Jim." Blair watched his partner's departure with a smile.
#####
"Rhonda, can I see you a minute?" Captain Banks' voice came through the intercom, pitched low.
Responsive to the summons, Rhonda got up and entered the captain's office, closing the door behind her at Banks' gesture. "Yes, Captain?"
Banks got right to the point. "Have you noticed anything odd about Ellison and Sandburg this week?"
The pretty blonde's lips twitched. "They're always just a little odd, sir."
He waved an impatient hand. "I don't mean their usual brand of oddity. They're acting weird, even for them. They're coming to work separately. They aren't lunching together; they go at different times. They leave at different times. They've done it all week. That's not just odd, that's usually a prelude to something catastrophic!"
Rhonda's brow creased in thought. "They don't seem to be having difficulty – I mean, they're getting along fine, aren't they? I thought since they remodeled the apartments things were going smoothly…"
"They are, so far as I can tell!" the captain grumbled. "There haven't been any temper tantrums from Ellison, no sniping remarks…Sandburg looks happy – actually they both look happy. They were laughing together and talking, before they went out… They seem just fine, but anything out of the ordinary with those two is enough to make me twitchy."
"Well…" Rhonda shrugged a little. "I'll keep an eye out, but right now I can't help you."
"Thanks." The captain smiled briefly and waved her out. When the door closed behind her, however, the smile faded and morphed into a thoughtful scowl. Banks leaned back in his chair and pondered the situation. He didn't like potential minefields threatening his division, and this unknown was exactly that.
#####
The subjects of Captain Banks' uneasy thoughts were currently out conducting interviews – completely unaware that their recent behavior was causing the captain of Major Crimes to develop a tension headache. Blair kept an eye on his watch, knowing that one or the other of them needed to make a 'kitten run' by noon.
"Let's get back to the office, Chief; I can tell you're antsy to get home and see Peaches," Ellison said as they left their latest interview and got into Jim's pickup truck. "You can have first lunch – unless you want me to come too." Even as he spoke, though, Jim's eyes strayed involuntarily to the notebook in his partner's hand. The last couple of interviews had shown promise and he longed to start going over their notes in detail.
"Very noble of you," Blair said dryly, "but I know you're itching to follow up on some of the things we got from Hawkins and Lipscomb just now. Just drop me by my car and go on up; I'll run home and feed Peachy and be back in an hour. In fact, I'll pick you up lunch on the way back so you don't lose any time, how's that?"
Ellison grinned. "I knew I picked you to be my partner for a reason. You're a pretty good kid, know that?" He reached a teasing hand to ruffle Sandburg's hair; Blair automatically dodged away.
"Pay attention to your driving, man, and leave the hair alone. You wanna pet something, save it for Peaches."
###
Unlocking the door to his apartment twenty minutes later, Blair was surprised to hear Peaches making plaintive noises – and not from the vicinity of her bed. To his astonishment he found the kitten wandering forlornly around in the kitchen!
"Peaches! How did you get out here?" Sandburg scooped the little feline up and cuddled her against his chest. "Did you climb out of your box and then couldn't get back in? Poor baby," he crooned, hastening to get the kitten formula from the fridge, "it's all right. What a big girl you are, to climb out all by yourself." And that causes a whole lot of new problems, he thought to himself ruefully. What if she'd tried to go up the stairs and tumbled off!?
Fed, 'littered' and petted to purring complacency, Peaches was ready to settle on the nearest lap and spend the afternoon napping in luxury, but Blair regretfully foiled her plans. Instead of returning her to the bed-box, he moved it and her into the bathroom, so that if she climbed out again, at least she could get to the litter box, but would be contained in one room. "Something tells me, kitten-pie, that you're going to be spending more time in here now!"
She meowed reproachfully as he closed the door. She was still protesting when he exited the apartment. Blair decided it was a good thing he was the one who had come home to feed her – poor Jim, with his enhanced hearing, would have been subjected to indignant kitten-cries all the way down to the street!
###
"She did what?" Jim demanded – the inquiry no less forceful for being uttered in a hissing whisper – when informed of their baby's latest accomplishment. "I thought she was too little to climb out of there!"
"So did I," Blair agreed. "I guess she's very advanced for her age," he added with a little smirk.
"Just our luck to have a precocious kitten," Jim grumbled…although he didn't really look very annoyed about it. "Well, I guess the bathroom's her new home away from home, huh? While we're away from home, that is."
Blair nodded, already half-immersed in reading through the notes Jim had written up and expanded on while Blair was at home. "Oh—" he roused himself to add, "your lunch is in that white bag."
With a muttered 'thanks, Chief,' Jim investigated the white bag's contents and then happily took his lunch off to the break room. Blair settled down to work…but by the time Ellison returned to their shared desks, he was evincing signs of disquiet.
"Jim," he whispered, shortly after the older detective sat down, "why is Rhonda staring at us? At me? She's been giving me funny looks all the time you were gone. And Simon looked at me…real strangely…sorta suspicious…when he went into his office a little while ago."
Ellison slowly raised his head and casually glanced around the bullpen, letting his gaze skim over Rhonda along with everyone else. "I noticed her watching me while you were at lunch," he replied, very low. "I don't have a clue why, but yeah, she's definitely keeping an eye on us, Chief." A small grin quirked up one corner of his mouth. "You done anything outrageous I don't know about?"
"I haven't had time to do anything outrageous lately, and you know it."
"Well, neither have I." Jim leaned towards his computer monitor as if concentrating on what was revealed on the screen, while in fact he was surveying the blonde administrative assistant around the edge. "Well, let it go for now," he advised softly. "If we're in trouble for something I guess we'll find out soon enough."
They remained quietly busy all afternoon – both of them acutely aware of Rhonda's scrutiny; once or twice a twitch of the Venetian blinds on Banks' office window caught Jim's attention. Rafe kept eyeing them curiously, and Joel seemed especially attentive. They were definitely under surveillance, and neither Sandburg nor Ellison knew why!
When five-thirty arrived Blair was the first person in the room to bounce to his feet and make a grab for his jacket. "Gotta go – important date!" he announced to the room at large. "See ya later, Jim!" He hurried for the elevator without a backward glance, leaving Ellison to finish up with the file he was currently studying, tidy up both their desks and put things away.
Jim had counted on escaping shortly after Blair's departure, but luck was against him. Just as he rose to put on his coat, Simon Banks' voice sounded.
"Ellison – my office."
Frowning slightly, Jim walked into the captain's office. Maybe now he'd find out what was going on and why Rhonda and the others had been watching him and Blair? "Yes, sir?"
Banks pointed to a chair. "Sit."
Still frowning, Jim complied.
"Okay, what's up with you and Sandburg this week, and the weird way you're behaving?" Banks asked bluntly.
Ellison stiffened. His jaw tightened and he immediately went on the offensive. "Excuse me? Is something unsatisfactory in our work, Captain?"
"No, no." Banks waved an impatient hand. "It's not about your work…it's you and Sandburg." Suddenly realizing just how this was sounding, the captain's dark face heated with an uncomfortable flush. "Sorry – I don't mean to be intrusive—"
"You don't, eh?" Ellison's features might have been carved from granite. "I beg to differ. If Blair and I are doing our jobs satisfactorily, what are you basing this on?" He stood up, shoving back the chair with considerable force. "If you'd excuse me, sir…"
"Sit down, Detective!" With a visible effort, Banks moderated his tone, as Jim reluctantly obeyed the command. "Look, I apologize; I came at this all wrong. I had just noticed that things weren't quite…as usual…with you two, and I was…concerned."
"Concerned enough to have people watching our every move?" Jim snapped. "You think we wouldn't notice Rhonda staring at us all afternoon? And you? And Rafe?" he added.
"Now look here, I've learned – to my vast regret – that usually bad things result when you and Sandburg are on the outs. I'm just trying to prevent—"
"We aren't on the outs!" Jim roared. Embarrassed, he hastily lowered his voice. "We're just fine! Why don't you believe me?"
"You aren't lunching together. You come to work in separate cars. You leave at different times…" Simon faltered, realizing just how thin all this so-called evidence was when laid out for examination. "Okay, I know, that wouldn't mean anything for any other partners. But you and Sandburg… I was worried, Jim."
An invisible imp of mischief perched on Jim's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. If Captain Banks hadn't been so embarrassed and flustered he might have noticed Ellison's cold blue gaze suddenly a-glint with deviltry.
"Oh. Well…thank you for your concern, sir. To be honest…" Jim leaned forward with a calculated air of confidentiality. This is gonna be goo-o-o-o-d! "There's a new female in Sandburg's life that's keeping him busy," he murmured.
"Is that all?" Banks rolled his eyes. "He's always got some new woman on his string."
"Not like this one." Jim smirked. "She's a stunner. Little bitty thing. Blonde hair and big blue eyes."
"Where'd he meet her?"
Ellison's lips twitched. "Picked her up on the street, I believe. Her name's Peaches."
"WHAT?" Banks nearly erupted from his chair. "Picked her up on the street? Sandburg's dating a hooker?!"
"Did I say she was a hooker?" Jim looked up, all innocence. "That's why he's been leaving early – to get home to her."
"She's living with him already?" Banks was honestly taken aback.
"She's a nice little thing…I enjoy her company myself. And she seems to like me as well as Blair. May I?" Jim casually got to his feet and went to the sideboard to pour himself a cup of coffee to hide his dancing eyes. "Would you like a fresh cup, sir?" he offered blandly.
Banks was close to choking. "She's…dating…both of you? At the same time? And you don't think this is a problem?!"
"Well, she hasn't spent the night at my place yet." Expression under control, Jim turned back to his superior. "But I have hopes." He took a few sips of coffee. "Would you care to drop by and meet her this evening, Captain?"
"Meet her?"
"Sure. I'll give Blair a call and warn him that you're going to be by." Quick to take advantage of the situation, Jim set down his coffee mug and edged out the door with a jaunty wave before the flabbergasted Banks could form a suitable reply. "See you later, Captain. Thanks for the coffee." Moving swiftly, Ellison grabbed his jacket and was out the main doors and into the stairwell before anyone could stop him.
Once safely in his truck, Jim pulled out his cell phone. To his relief, Blair answered; he'd feared that the younger man might not have yet reached home. "Chief? We're going to have company." Jim didn't try to hide the laughter spilling out. "Simon is under the impression we're co-dating a blonde hooker named Peaches that you picked up on the street and is currently living with you. I invited him home to meet our 'girl'."
Blair's spluttered response was unintelligible even to Sentinel hearing. It didn't sound like he was sharing Jim's amusement.
"I know, I know," Ellison tried to soothe his partner, still chuckling, "But I just couldn't help it. Simon called me into his office after you left, and started interrogating me about what was wrong with us, how we weren't eating lunch together and weren't coming to work together, and every time we had a disagreement it caused problems in the division—"
"Oh, for…" Blair swore under his breath. "Sometimes, Jim, I wish we'd move to the Gobi Desert or someplace like that, where we weren't under a microscope!"
"I'm sorry, Chief." Ellison sobered, chastened, but Blair was already apologizing.
"No, no, it's okay, it's okay, it's fine. I know why you did it. I guess we would have had to share Peach Fuzz with everyone sooner or later." He sighed a little, then brightened. "She was really glad to see me when I got here – she was out of her box again, and was hungry. And she'd managed to get into her litter box and use it."
Jim smiled. "Smart kitty. I'll be home in about 20 minutes. No, wait a minute, it was my turn to cook tonight; I'll stop and pick up something on the way home, since I don't know what time Simon might arrive."
"He might not come," Blair said hopefully. "Maybe you shocked him so much he'll stay away."
"Nah, curiosity if nothing else will drag him there." Jim laughed again. "You should've seen his face."
"I can imagine," Blair said glumly, and ended the call.
###
Blair still didn't look very happy when Jim arrived home, but cheered up as they unpacked the boxes of take-out Italian. To Jim's surprise, Peach Fuzz was toddling about Blair's living room, sniffing and exploring everything. Thinking about it and looking at her carefully, he could see that the tiny kitten had grown a lot in just a week.
"Hey, look at that, this is the first time you've let her out on her own!" he said in delight, watching the kitten bat curiously at the beaded strings covering the doorway to the guest room.
"There didn't seem to be any point in locking her in the bathroom when we're both here," Sandburg replied. "She's got to be introduced to the place, after all." He winced, watching Peaches attack the beads.
"Those beads are going to have a short, hard life," Jim observed, grinning, and crouched down. "Here, Peaches, c'mere, kitty. Here, kitty-kitty." Peach Fuzz turned around and wandered over. Jim picked her up and cuddled her, and she purred loudly, starting her usual climb to the highest point on his shoulder. "Hey, stay put!" He detached her claws from his shirt and sat down to pet her and tickle her ears.
"When do we expect Simon?" Blair poured glasses of water for them both and seated himself at the table.
Jim reluctantly set Peaches on the floor and went to wash his hands before eating. "I don't know," he called from the bathroom, "but I'd bet his curiosity will outweigh his manners, and he'll be here within an hour or two!"
Blair groaned. "He's going to be so mad…and he'll blame me for it. Not you, of course. It'll be all 'oh, ha-ha' with you, all 'oh, good joke, Jim,' and he'll probably suspend me or something, since I'm the one who brought Peaches home in the first place."
"Hey." Jim stopped beside his partner's chair and laid both hands firmly on his shoulders. "He tries anything like that and I'll…well, he won't succeed. I mean it, Chief." He squeezed Blair's shoulders tightly. "You didn't do anything – and I can't help what he believes – and I didn't lie to him!" Releasing Blair, Jim took his seat and served himself from the take-out cartons.
"What did you tell him?" Still morose but curious, Blair buttered a piece of bread, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow in Jim's direction.
Ellison smirked. "I said there was a new female – please note, Chief, I did not say 'a new woman' – in your life, and she had blonde hair. When Simon asked where you met her, I told him you picked her up on the street and brought her home. I did not say that she was a hooker – he inferred that when I said her name was Peaches."
Sandburg was laughing helplessly now, concerns momentarily forgotten.
"The capper was when I said I liked her too, and I thought she liked me," Jim continued wickedly, "but that she hadn't stayed overnight with me yet. Then I asked if he'd like to meet her, and invited him over – and made my escape," he concluded. "I know I'll never forget his face – wish you could've seen it too. But I didn't lie. Not once."
"Oh, man…" Blair leaned back in his chair, continuing to laugh. His gaze fell on little Peaches, still batting at the bead curtain. "Peachy, you're worth it, no matter what Simon does to me."
"To us," Jim corrected. "We're in this together. Now, let's get dinner over and done with; we've got a visitor coming."
###
Simon Banks was so long delayed in arriving that Jim had actually gone back upstairs to his own apartment to watch a ball game. Blair had settled down with Peach Fuzz in his lap and a spy novel in hand, trying not to be nervous. He actually hoped that Captain Banks didn't come at all. It was Jim's joke, not his; he wanted no part of it. He stroked the kitten, wondering what it would be like to be on traffic duty rather than a part of Major Crimes.
When the Sentinel finally heard the elevator chime and smelled the distinctive aroma of Banks' cigars, he realized with some surprise that the captain was coming to #307. Somehow Jim had thought Simon would show up at Blair's door. He muted the television and got to his feet – and timed opening his door, so that he caught Banks with his hand raised to knock.
The captain glared. "I hate it when you do that!"
"It keeps me in practice," Jim shrugged. "Come on in, Captain."
Banks entered, glancing around a bit nervously. "It still looks odd to have half of Sandburg's stuff gone," he muttered. "Isn't he ever going to move the rest of his junk downstairs?"
"I asked him to leave those things," Jim said mildly, but there was a certain frostiness in his eyes. "I like them where they are."
Banks just grunted. "I take it Sandburg and his new…friend…are home?" Simon was still looking about as if he expected to see Blair necking on the couch with the mysterious 'Peaches'.
"Oh yeah, they're downstairs." Jim was struggling to keep a straight face; he went over to the spiral stairs and leaned over the railing to conceal the smirk that threatened to show. "Chief? Why don't you bring Peaches up so Simon can meet her?" he called loudly.
"Sure, be right up," Blair called back – and Jim hoped he was the only one who noticed the shakiness in his voice. A moment later Blair appeared alone, wearing a sweat suit with a zip-front warm-up jacket. "Hello, Captain," he greeted Simon.
"Sandburg," Banks acknowledged gruffly. He stared at the young detective, then looked about, craning his neck to peer down the spiral stairs. "So where's this new woman Jim said you have living with you?"
Blair took a deep breath and raised one hand to the zipper pull, reassured when Jim stepped behind him and rested one hand on his shoulder. He tugged down the zipper and reached into the jacket's blousy folds. "She's right here. Peach Fuzz, meet Captain Simon Banks. Simon, this is Peaches – the new girl in our lives."
Banks stared – and blinked a few times – and stared again. He looked from the kitten to Blair to Jim and back to Peach Fuzz. His mouth twisted into an unwilling grin…and then he threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "P-p-peaches!" he gasped, "This is the hooker you picked up on the street?!" He tried to glare at Jim, but was laughing too hard. "Ellison, you…you slime devil!" Trying to stifle his mirth, the big man moved closer and held out one large hand to the kitten. She sniffed cautiously, then backed up a little, shrinking back into Blair's arms.
"I don't think she likes cigars," Jim commented with a grin.
"She's…beautiful," Banks said softly. This time when he extended a finger to stroke, Peaches allowed the caress.
(Another big tough guy completely overwhelmed by a tiny kitten, you notice.)
"But why did you give me all that cock-and-bull story about Sandburg and you taking up with a hooker?"
"Captain, with all due respect, you set people to watching us like we were stakeout subjects, you haul me into your office and demand to know why we aren't eating lunch together – and there could be all sorts of reasons, none of which are anyone's business – well, sir, you asked for it."
"All right, all right, you got me," Banks conceded, and went to sit on the couch. Blair sat down on the floor with Peach Fuzz in his lap; Jim took the yellow chair. "But why have you two been acting so weird this week? You had the whole division worried!"
"If you mean why were we coming to work separately and taking separate lunch breaks, it's because Peaches was too little to be left alone longer. She had to be fed every three hours," Blair explained.
"That includes during the night," Jim added. "Sandburg's been getting up in the middle of the night to feed her all week, so he wasn't getting much sleep."
Banks frowned. "How long is that going to be going on?"
"Not much longer. She's able to get out of her box now when she wants to eat. As soon as she's able to eat solid food instead of formula that I warm up, I can just put her in the bathroom with her food and her bed and her litter box, at night," Blair said.
Banks extended his hand. "Would she let me hold her?"
"Probably. She's very friendly." Blair lifted Peach Fuzz and deposited her in the captain's lap. She accepted the move, but didn't settle down immediately; instead she stamped her little white boots up and down, shifting her weight back and forth and extending her claws.
"Watch it; she's hell on your pants," Jim, the voice of experience, warned.
Banks barely acknowledged the warning; he was petting the fluffy little animal in his lap with great concentration, fascinated by her antics. "How did you happen to get such a tiny baby, Sandburg?" he asked at last, when Peaches finally condescended to curl up on his lap.
Blair launched into the story of the fire, the mother cat and the orphaned kittens. "And so I brought her home," he concluded, "and we've been learning how to care for a really young kitten ever since."
"He's leaving out the part about me saying I didn't want a cat," Jim generously added. "Until I saw her, that is." He smiled ruefully. "After that I knew why he'd brought her home and why we had to keep her."
"She's beautiful," Simon repeated. Then he looked at Blair with a resigned expression. "You do know that now Daryl is going to want a kitten, once he hears you and Jim have one, don't you?" Blair just grinned unrepentantly. "Why didn't you tell me about this in the first place and ask for a few days off?"
"Captain, do you really think you'd have given us time off because of a kitten?"
"Well, no, probably not," Banks admitted. "Now, though…"
"Now," Blair said good-naturedly, "it's not necessary. As I said before, she doesn't need the constant monitoring and special feeding – or she won't for much longer. We're going to try her on solid food over the weekend."
Simon sighed and reluctantly handed Peaches back to Blair, then rose to his feet. "Well, gentlemen, I have to go. Thank you for introducing me to your new woman," he grinned. "I deserved the joke, and I think you're pretty lucky. Don't bother getting up; I'll see myself out. Let's hope we don't have any occasion to see each other until Monday morning."
"Good night, sir."
"Night, Simon!"
Left alone with their baby, the partners sat in comfortable silence for a time, then Blair yawned widely. "I know I've become a real drag, but man, I'm falling asleep here!" he confessed. "I'd better take Peaches downstairs and then go to bed before I pass out on your floor."
"Go on down and go to bed," Jim suggested, "and I'll keep Peaches up here for a little while. When it's time for her to eat I'll bring her down and feed her, then put her in your bathroom for the night. You're still trying to function on not much sleep, Chief, so catch some while you can."
"Well…okay; you've twisted my arm. Thanks, Jim…I'll feed her in the middle of the night, though. See you later, little Cuddle-kins." Yawning again, Blair handed off the kitten, stroked her a couple times and then disappeared down the spiral stairs.
Jim settled back in his chair once more, petting little Peach Fuzz rhythmically as she composed herself on his knees to take yet another nap. He felt supremely happy and content, a rare feeling for the stressed Sentinel. "Blair's right, little girl," he whispered to the sleepy kitten, "You are a miracle worker."
The End